Categories
TEAMWORKING DAY

Teamworking Day: The Thrilling World of Men Showdown 🌭

Are you prepared for the ultimate game for men!? A game too erotic, too violent, and too nude for women!? Seanbaby has designed the Thrilling World of Men Showdown and it will be fought by our two thrilling men!

Seanbaby: As always, the rules are simple. Brockway and I draft story titles from the lewd and sensational ’60s magazine, World of Men! These story titles will form Men Squads which face off in the single-elimination World Tournament of Men.

Much like the tournament rules, the combat rules are simple: our state-of-the-art Wiener 2600 Meatnalysis Console will fire a scalding hot 7-sided die to determine the aspect of 🌭 under which the Men Squads will compete. Whose evocative titles will evoke their way to victory in a test of Learning? Punching!? Nerding!?! Fucking!?!? Upsetting!?!? Oh, and if the W2600MC rolls Teamworking, all five aspects are considered, and a roll of Reflecting causes Brockway and I to swap teams and reroll.

Like the combat and tournament rules, the stakes are simple: the winner is declared 1900HOTDOG’s World’s Man 2021 and the loser is not!

Brockway: As with all of Seanbaby’s games, I am intrigued by it, I don’t understand it at all, and I’m probably going to do so badly at it that I might die. MEN!

Seanbaby: I select BLASTED ALIVE BY THE DEVIL’S FIREWORKS. It sounds extremely violent and probably sexual, so it covers Punching and Fucking, but I’m also very confused and troubled– two strong indicators of Learning and Upsetting. BLASTED ALIVE BY THE DEVIL’S FIREWORKS has the potential to win this whole thing for me.

Brockway: I gotta pick TONIGHT WE HIT THE KRAUT’S PIG BOAT OF PASSION. That is also clearly Punching and Fucking, but in a way that is both more confusing and more vile than Seanbaby’s choice. That’s how I’m going to win: More confusing and more vile. I also choose NICE GIRLS FINISH DEAD, both for this game and for my new confusing and vile belly tattoo. I think that one’s pure Upsetting, and choose to forgo all other attributes to min/max my misogyny build.

Seanbaby: That leaves me with WHAT YOUR SEX DREAMS TELL ABOUT YOU, which is fine because I could use the Nerding coverage. “I make love to scorpions every night in my subconscious! What could it meeeaaaaan!?” It means you’re fucking up this conversation about hitting the Kraut’s Pig Boat of Passion, nerd.

Brockway: I choose – fuck! I can only pick one! This was a mistake. I just gave Seanbaby the most powerful arsenal this side of any anime fan experiencing rejection. Jesus, I guess I have to go with Sgt. TULLY’S INCREDIBLE LUST PATROL. I would read that comic book, watch the film adaptation, and loudly complain about how they ruined the character arc of Blackbox Betty by ignoring her torrid affair with The Handgrenade Hussy.

Seanbaby: You just left THE DESPERATE RAID OF WILSON’S LACE PANTY GUERILLAS on the table? And YOUR LOVE CONQUESTS MAKE YOU A WEAKLING!? Oh my god, I’m not even sure if I chose correctly. Every single article in this issue is amazing. It’s like having a stroke was an Olympic event and someone wrote down the final words of the all-time greatest team.

Brockway: Oh thank god I get SOFT NUDES FOR SATAN’S DEN OF TORTURE. Satan’s Den of Torture? Totally scans. He’d have one of those. He’d have two of those just so he can always use one when the other’s being cleaned. The surprising part is that he prefers softcore pornography to decorate its walls. Just nipples and buttcracks tastefully obscured by conveniently placed shadows and cascading hair. The devil is all, ā€œI just think it’s hotter when there’s something left to the imagination, you know?ā€ as he egg-beats his pitchfork in your anus.

Seanbaby: I draft NO WHISKEY BOTTLE FOR TEEN BABIES. I have no strategy, I just love it. What’s a teen baby? Who’s making this rule? What happened that they are only now making it?

Brockway: That’s my favorite Johnny Cash song. I choose THE UNDERGROUND WAR OF REYNOLDS’ LOVING MAIDENS OF MAYHEM. It sounds like the promise made by a Monster Truck Rally commercial that sold me 8 tickets and a 3XL T-shirt. It is once again Punching and Fucking, and I am starting to sense a weakness in my strategy. So I’m going wide next and choosing SEX IMPULSES THAT SPELL YOUR DOOM – these magazines can’t decide if fucking is awesome or terrifying. I keep picking ā€˜awesomely terrifying,’ because I choose to be the thing I fear, but I think I need some Nerding energy in my roster. For the other picks to beat up on.

Seanbaby: That’s good. I actually wanted “CAN’T ANY MAN MASTER ME?” THE CRY OF A LOVE STARVED WOMAN anyway. I can’t say it works out well 100% of the time, but I raise my hand every time I hear those words.

Brockway: I choose SELF TEST: ARE YOU A SUICIDAL DRIVER? Because it is a model of efficiency. That test is one question long, that question is in the title, and nobody will take it because the only people it’s for already answered it with their Edsel.

Seanbaby: I really like BRING BACK THE BOUND DARLINGS OF THE NAZI SLAUGHTER FLOTILLA because I can’t tell if it’s the rallying cry of some kind of bound darling rescue squad or a music nerd calling for a return to his favorite era of punk. And I could use an economics expert on my team so I also take I PAY OFF IN LUST – CONFESSIONS OF AN ORGY GIRL.

Brockway: EASY SEX – THE TRAGEDY OF AMERICAN TEENS. They don’t even have to work for it like we did, these god damn kids. They’re just ā€œnice to each otherā€ and ā€œfeel a connection.ā€ In my day we exploded a Sin Fortress just to get to second base. I once blew up the Sadomasochist Sheik’s Mountain Of Titties just for a handjob. These kids — these kids today. Probably couldn’t murder their way onto a Slaughter Flotilla if you gave them two Bowie knives and a self-hating erection, and back in my day we didn’t even need the knives! 

Seanbaby: I choose FLY YOUR EGGS RIGHT DOWN THEIR STACKS. Because it could mean anything. It’s arguably all things. My god, this power. Name a single stack I couldn’t fly an egg down! Open your fucking stack and tell it to get ready for egg! The game has yet to begin and I am already drunk with the limitless potential of my flying eggs! Right! Down! Their! Goddamn! Stacks!!!

Brockway: Found your next mobile game. I choose INITIATION IN HELL FOR THE MAIDENS OF AGONY, which is so Gwar I can smell the sweaty foam-rubber just reading it. I also pick SELF TEST: WHAT KIND OF PASSION MATE IS BEST FOR YOU? I love the idea that World of Men maybe also started the Cosmo Quiz, and enjoy how hard they would panic if you traveled back in time to tell them about it.

Seanbaby: I guess I’ll take THE SEX DEATH WISH THAT’S SLAUGHTERING OUR YOUNG because I love the vibe of a moralizing “think of the children” anti-sex article being obscured by the Nazi pervert whip on the same cover.

Brockway: I Choose BRING BACK THE BITCH OF BINGH KAN because that is a wonderful sentence. Purely phonetically. I can hear funk guitars in my head everytime I read it. Also look at that kickin’ little ascot on Machine Gun Guy. I know who the self-proclaimed Bitch of Bingh Kan is.

Seanbaby: I have to pick 10 WAYS TO SPARK A WOMAN’S PASSION DRIVE because imagine how bad World of Men‘s sex advice would have to be. Can you imagine a pair of panties dryer than the ones worn by a woman who finds the softcore Nazi kidnapping fetish section of your porn magazine collection? It’s probably just ten choke holds approved by O.S.S. O’ROURKE’S INCREDIBLE ALL-HARLOT UNDERGROUND, which is my other pick.

Brockway: Grasp and Grind is #7 on that list. Loose Hands, Tight Pants is #10. I choose THE MAD WORLD OF COEDS WHO TURN ON – it sounds like it’s probably just about awkward make-outs on the quad, but I’m gambling on it being a kind of Event Horizon situation, where coeds who go too far in a grope party accidentally slip through into the hell dimension, maybe wind up fondling the Space Devil’s ballsack and come back to our world all into nefarious delights. Probably just about over-the-shirt stuff, though.

With teams selected and fates sealed, the World of Men Tournament of Titles begins! Sean’s game pieces are in red. Robert’s are in blue. Get your men ready!

The first round titles are locked in! The die has been caaaaaaaaast:

Seanbaby: I’m about to say something I’ve only said once before in an Old Country Buffet bathroom: “Oh, damn it. Fucking!?” It’s a tough category for me this round since my favorite title, BLASTED ALIVE BY THE DEVIL’S FIREWORKS, is almost specifically written backwards from the worst time to be fucking. In order for me to even have a chance at this, I have to convince someone it’s a good idea to point their most tender parts and holes toward the Devil’s fireworks during lovemaking. Impossible, wait. I don’t need to convince someone. I need to convince Brockway. I’m, hold on a second… yeah, I can’t picture him fucking any other way. I’m still in this.

I think my 10 WAYS TO SPARK A WOMAN’S PASSION DRIVE and Brockway’s THE MAD WORLD OF COEDS WHO TURN ON almost cancel each other out with him getting a slight edge due to insanity. As for my BRING BACK THE BOUND DARLINGS OF THE NAZI SLAUGHTER FLOTILLA facing off against his SOFT NUDES FOR SATAN’S DEN OF TORTURE? In a fuck off? I have no prayer. Naked ladies in a Satanic sex dungeon is at least twice as erotic as Nazis throwing dead prisoners off a flotilla. Especially since we know all of Satan’s fireworks are safely over here, just obliterating the flesh from Brockway’s junk.

Brockway: Not gonna lie, I was pretty worried about BRING BACK THE BOUND DARLINGS OF THE NAZI SLAUGHTER FOTILLA. There is certainly a Fucking Day implication there that I don’t want to contemplate or explore, and it would have annihilated on Upsetting Day, but if you can’t win a World Tournament of Menā„¢ Fuck-Off with SOFT NUDES FOR SATAN’S DEN OF TORTURE, you need to stay out of the big leagues. Get your feet wet with some Regional Contest of Boysā„¢ Grope-Offs first and work your way up to- what’s that? I’m under arrest? Just for typing that? That tracks, sure.

Well, at least I fucked apart BLASTED ALIVE BY THE DEVIL’S FIREWORKS! What’s that? That’s on the record? That’s exactly what you mean by ā€œcan and will be used against you?ā€ Yeah, good call.

Seanbaby: I’ll never forget you, BLASTED ALIVE BY THE DEVIL’S FIREWORKS Game Piece.

Computer, lock in the second quarter finals matchup titles, beep boop:

Computer, access dice protocol and cyber-roll the Men Die to see how these titles will fight, borp boop bloooop:

Seanbaby: Nerding is a scampering, dying concept that means less every day. We live in a world where Barack Obama has probably said the name Thanos out loud. But until our dead planet falls into the sun, no one “cool” will ever utter the words “YOUR LOVE CONQUESTS MAKE YOU A WEAKLING.” That’s what you whisper while you’re catching a Pokemon outside a married couple’s window. It’s something you’d tell a reporter doing a story on your record-breaking nunchuck collection. It’s your dying words to the scientists watching your DNA give up and turn your unused penis into a Lego playset.

So yeah, despite the dork-pounding, ass-crushing manliness of my other titles, “CAN’T ANY MAN MASTER ME?” THE CRY OF A LOVE STARVED WOMAN and FLY YOUR EGGS RIGHT DOWN THEIR STACKS, I don’t see how I lose this one. As crazy as it is, I’m saying FLY YOUR EGGS RIGHT DOWN THEIR STACKS and I still think I’m the nerdiest man here. My win! My magnificent, nerdy win!

Brockway: Fine, you win. But at least acknowledge that in this bizarre modern world the Internet built for us when we weren’t looking — this inverse culture where a woman has to keep her tone polite when a man in an ahegao hoodie asks for feet pics lest she find herself part of an active shooter alert — NICE GIRLS FINISH DEAD is a deeply nerdy thing to say.

Seanbaby: You’re right. Any other day it would be a champion. But today is a day for the mighty and unfuckable! Today belongs to YOUR LOVE CONQUESTS MAKE YOU A WEAKLING! So okay, we’re tied with one win each, and we go into our third quarterfinal matchup! The titles are, bloop blop:

The roll is, blorp bachoooop:

Seanbaby: Punching! The perfect time for it! “NO WHISKY BOTTLE FOR TEEN BABIES” can only be said with a punch, and if you’re telling me there were no punches thrown during THE DESPERATE RAID OF WILSON’S LACE PANTY GUERILLAS, I’m telling you fucking this: PUNCH. Once again, all my problems are solved with punc– oh shit, hold on. I just looked over at Brockway’s game pieces.

Brockway: BRING BACK THE BITCH OF BINGH KAN! Say it out loud: Each of those words punch your mouth on the way out. That’s something a freshly blinded ogre shouts as you make off with the queen of his harem. You idiot, your poor fist-dented dolt. You brought BABIES and PANTIES to challenge BRING BACK THE BITCH OF BINGH KHAN? You’re lucky BRING BACK THE BITCH OF BINGH KAN thought that was funny or you’d be mingling with its breakfast and whatever’s left of the last poor bastard who brought lacy panties to a Bingh Kan bitch-fight. 

Seanbaby: God help me, the Bitch of Bingh Kan may be unbeatable. The Bitch of Bingh Kan is a deadlier enemy than I could have ever conceived of when I designed this game. Is a being such as this conceptually safe? I keep checking behind me for the portal my future self will leap out of to kill me before I can click “Publish.” My game pieces are shattered in a heap of inadequate panties and unfulfilled sex death wishes.

With Brockway leading 2-1, these titles enter the last quarterfinal matchup! Computer, blorp!

Hot Dog Computer, roll these men’s fates with a manly die, bloop bop:

Seanbaby: Of course I roll Upsetting when I’m completely out of Nazis. Still, I have WHAT YOUR SEX DREAMS TELL ABOUT YOU, and there aren’t many things more upsetting than a ’60s men’s magazine writer trying to interpret his own sex dreams. That article is probably just the word “mommy” accidentally typed into ten sentences about soft dicks and milk.

To make matters worse, I’m stuck with PAY OFF IN LUST- CONFESSIONS OF AN ORGY GIRL, which now that I’m looking at it again is way too confusing to be upsetting. Is she in debt to so many couples she has to bounce around an orgy trying to square things with her lust? It’s nonsense written by someone who has no idea how the exchange of goods or group sex works. And I challenge anyone to get upset by O.S.S. O’ROURKE’S INCREDIBLE ALL-HARLOT UNDERGROUND. That organization plainly rules. Captain O’Rourke’s terrific loose women have given me uplifting when I needed distressing.

Brockway: I’m good at something! I finally found something I’m good at – it’s not a thing I fully understand and certainly not a thing I can explain to anybody when they ask what the fuck I’m bragging about, but I am good at this. O.S.S. O’ROURKE’S INCREDIBLE ALL-HARLOT UNDERGROUND is my favorite wrestling league, but it is not Upsetting. It’s the best room at the Your Grandparents Fucked theme party, but there’s nothing unsettling about it. Motherfucker, we landed on Upsetting Day when I had INITIATION IN HELL FOR THE MAIDENS OF AGONY on the field. I didn’t need another piece. I had, and did not need TONIGHT WE HIT THE KRAUTS’ PIG BOAT OF PASSION in a competition of Upsetting titles. I could have annihilated you with something monstrous but you were already destroyed by the time I got to it. This must’ve been what it felt like to be the last eight inches of Andre the Giant’s dick. 

Seanbaby: It’s not over! You… y-your upsetting conquests m-make you a weakling! I still have one team in the tournament! One last chance at man!

The semi finals begin with proven winners! Titles for men!

And the Wiener 2600 Meatnalysis Console’s white hot die reveals they will compete in:

Seanbaby: This round encompasses all concepts? All aspects of man? Then it has never been a better time to be FLY YOUR EGGS RIGHT DOWN THEIR STACKS, a phrase that means so much nothing it circles around to mean too much everything. It punches, it fucks, it gives you an uneasy feeling… in fact, Brockway, I’m so confident in my flying eggs, you can have YOUR LOVE CONQUESTS MAKE YOU A WEAKLING. I hear that every time Hulk Hogan and I have a testicle weighing contest anyway.

Brockway: I can’t take this from you. I’ve taken so much from you, and you love this so much. It’s the last flea-ridden teddy bear at the orphanage and it is all yours. 

Seanbaby: Take this from me? My eggs have destroyed you! They are not yours to take! Fly. Them. Right down! My stacks!!

What a battle! What a tournament of titles! The last semifinal matchup is:

And the roll!

Seanbaby: Oh fuck, I didn’t write rules for what happens when you’re forced to swap teams and one player doesn’t have any. Let me think.

Okay, in the case of a Reflecting roll when there are no opponents to swap with, your game pieces are given to the player on that side. So I’m taking INITIATION IN HELL FOR THE MAIDENS OF AGONY, EASY SEX – THE TRAGEDY OF AMERICAN TEENS, and even your precious TONIGHT WE HIT THE KRAUTS’ PIG BOAT OF PASSION.

Brockway: I’m so mad you took TONIGHT WE HIT THE KRAUTS’ PIG BOAT OF PASSION. That was my baby! I raised it from a pup, from a wee TODAY WE CALL AHEAD TO THE BELGIANS’ SWAN BOAT OF SNUGGLES into the monster you see today. My only consolation is that you’re so fucking bad at this you didn’t take BRING BACK THE BITCH OF BINGH KAN and now you’re going to pay for it.

Seanbaby: Thank you for your feedback. We love to hear from our passionate players and your comments will be passed along to the development team. The game board now looks like this:

Man roll! Man roll! BA-DOOOP!

Seanbaby: OH NO. I’m facing off against the Bitch of Bingh Kan on the battlefield of Fucking. Or maybe OH YES? Even with Brockway’s sweet baby, his Kraut Pig Boat of Passion, I don’t know if I can win. But I have known for quite some time this is how I would die.

Brockway: 

Seanbaby: Dear sweet Jesus, may you all live forever and never see an enemy as ferocious as the Bitch of Bingh Kan. And oh damn it, my team in the finals is missing a game piece. Because of my hubris, my manly showmanship, I’m facing off against my greatest rival, that bitch, short-handed.

Brockway: I will make the final roll. Every cell in my body says this story has to end one way – with me humbled and defeated. It’s not funny to watch somebody dominate a field from start to finish. It’s why nobody laughed when Andre the Giant showed up to those college wrestling tryouts. It’s not a good story arc to watch an unstoppable monster destroy with no champion to challenge him — it’s why nobody laughed when Andre the Giant also showed up to the cheerleader tryouts. I should be defeated unexpectedly at the last moment. My gut as a storyteller and comedian says I should rig this roll to lose, but chaos has been so kind to me today. I will not spit in the face of my new god. Whatever happens next, this is an honest roll:

HAHAHA!

What do I choose? Is it SEX IMPULSES THAT SPELL YOUR DOOM — the end of a low testosterone bomb threat whispered from a one-occupant tunnel of love car? Hmm, do I go with WHAT KIND OF PASSION MATE IS BEST FOR YOU — the title to a Turkish Facebook Quiz whose every result is a request for your social security number? It’s tough! This is a tough call.

Oh, I know!

Seanbaby: aAAAAARRGGGGHH!!!! AiieeeeEEEEEeeeEEE what have I done!? What have I fucking dooooooone! Computer, abort! Computer!! Verbal override Traxx Alpha Seven! Shut off all gameplay funct– TOO LATE! YOU BITCH! YOU BIIIIIIIIII–

1900HOTDOG in association with The Bingh Kan Bitch Restoration Society and Seanbaby Remembrance Foundation congratulates 2021’s World of Men Man, Robert Brockway.

Categories
LEARNING DAY

Learning Day: Mormon Bigfoots 🌭

Yes it is my pleasure to take another turn driving this Hot Dog boat for a bit. I have been thinking on what I might share with all of you what is interesting and enlightening. I thought I might share more about the culture and folklore of my current dwelling place which: I don’t want to get too specific but let’s just say I have lots of neighbors of the mormon persuasion. Turns out they’re mostly about as nice or as not nice as anybody else depending on the day and did you return their ladder in the same condition you borrowed it. Now I ain’t terribly godly or ungodly myself but I been learning more about their history and there I think is some pretty interestin things which i will now share with you all from me to you.

Researchin Methodologies

Well after Charmaigne McNabb died and there wasn’t anybody else would work the library on a volunteer basis they just closed the local library down. They said the school has one but I can’t exactly access that as a non-child, so I am mostly depending on the county BookMobile which comes to the park once a week in the summer and then kinda just depends on if the roads are clear for the rest of the year. I guess they don’t have much money either cause I’m not seeing a lot of new books and I been asking every week do they have the new Tom Clancy (Netforce: Kill Chain: A Novella) but no, it looks like its mostly used books what have been donated and theirs LOTS of Mormon-type books and videos and such in there, like the church did some cleaning recently.

The Findins

So i checked one out entitled The Miracle of Forgiveness, it didn’t have much of a cover to speak of if i’m honest i mostly picked it cause it was wrote in 1969 and I thought LaRene might get a chuckle out of that.

I thought Spencer looked a little familiar but here is a nice young woman explaining that no, Yoda wasn’t about him.

Well reading it was mostly what you’d expect from an older time mormon book like don’t touch yourself that might end up in… well here’s what he said:

Which even i know is a outdated attitude and i showed LaRene and we both shook our heads and said that is just ignernt and disappointing. If Spencer had met Kenzie and Rose down the road I bet he’d never say that, but I kept reading and this part when i saw it i just about got a chill down my whole body:

Now i don’t know if you know this about me but I been a aficionado of Sasquatch (what you civilians might call Bigfoot) lores ever since I was a young feller back in Tumwater and my older cousin Jeff said he saw a bigfoot making a wickerman once out on the sound. We went out there alot tryin’ to see it again and never did but there was some pretty scary times (like once when Jeff made kinda a grunt noise when I was peeing and i just went running before i finished or did up my fly or anything) and I studied on the creature in books as well as ā€œin the field.ā€ So when i saw what Spencer said Brother Wilson there wrote about Smoot recollectin on Elder Patten I knew aright away:  we had what Jeff woulda termed ā€˜a sightin’ and guess what i looked it up and I ain’t the only one what thinks so:

So this was a upsetting revelation to me cause in my head I always pretty much thought Bigfoots would be more like a part of nature: you know, don’t go poking at em or you’ll get what’s coming but if you leave em alone and maybe just watch in wonder from afar they’ll leave you be. But now we got this one saying his mission is to destroy the souls of men so it might sound silly to you but this kinda kept me up at nights even with my CPAP and you might think: it’s fine, it said you can just command a evil Bigfoot to leave, but I have tried that Jesus Name thing i have had mixed sucess (sometimes it works on spiders, but that bird that came down the chimney and one time when that Hawkins kid at the Maverik followed me out to the truck saying ā€˜you can’t take that many ketchups’, it don’t seem to effect them). So after a few nights of no sleep and going to look in on Trayton sleeping underneath his bed and kinda quaking about what if a Cain should find him in a moment of helpless like this in his genshin impact jammies, i decided i’d keep reading on Mormon Folk lore and see if there was something that might lend me some comfort. I ventually found one that ain’t a book exactly, more like somebodys school project like when I did one on are ghosts real in sixth grade, but this one was like a whole big thing:

All writ up by one Mr. Hector Lee in 1947 and I guess it was so good that some fellow named Dean went ahead and gave him a upgrade on his degree:

And if you don’t know what are the three Nephites well here is a explanation:

So now we have a whole NOTHER group of fellows what are walking the earth and are gonna live forever. Well well that sorta sounds like that other thing isn’t that interestin…

So yep this Lee fellow came up to my neck of the woods and interviewed a bunch a folks about their three Nephite stories like this one:

And that part about they had beautiful long white and gray hair and beards was in just about every story (also that part about the food comes back after they eat it, which I just wish that happened with my breakfast nachos i get at the BonFire Grill). And sometimes there dressed ā€˜neet’ (I found that some of these olden pioneer folks did not have the Language Arts skills and knowledge like what we have modernly (although i was entrigued by their how and what they pucntuate and, Im trying that out myself now in my academia papers i don’t know if you noticed))  and sometimes it doesn’t say nothing about clothes, and so that made me think and i read and read thru the night and as I read a pattern sorta revolved itself before my minds’ eye:

And Trayton helped me to do a  dark web image search but that didn’t seem right did the artist even read the descriptions?:

But yet i persissted and you might laugh but I felt alot like that movie where Highlander is a detective and struggles mightily to put together the clues. 

and then it CLICKED almost just like in that movie:

And of a sudden I KNEW what these descriptors minded me of, it was a specific image from that amazon documentary from a few years ago about a fellow Squatch Seeker:

So here is A Theory: what if God knew there was a bad bigfoot what lives forever out tryin to destroy souls? Wouldn’t it be just like Him Everlasting to set up a sort of counter-force of good amortal bigfoots or perhaps Yetis? The kind what enjoy your food but you still can eat it? And so here is my belief: I am convinced The Three Nephites are honorable sasquatches sent from Him on High here is more suportin evidence courtesy Master Doctor Lee:

Get Up Rite Now and Dress Your Self

Well i couldn’t make nothing out of that but gratefully Doctor Lee P.HD has typed it up for us:

Now this to me is a miracle I would really like: if when i was sick (in my case not cause i had 15 kids but more like it just all feels pretty heavy today) a Holy Bigfoot came and said ā€˜Na Na I don’t care what your Nabers have to say you can be healthy and live as long as you want and also most importantly: but not to go to work.’ And I guess that went pretty well for Sister Bullard:

Flour ā€œRepaidā€

Holy cow I also am satisfied, this is powerful Squatch Sign right here ain’t no regular man could carry a hunnerd pounds of flour wasn’t even his own it seems.

Shapeshifter

Well this one I know shapeshiftin’ is generally considered to be more the wheelhouse of the Wendigo. But I figure if Heavenly Father is gonna make a StrikeForce of Righteous Forest Walkers, he might throw ina few extra kindsa wood apes.

No. 22

This one got me excited maybe I would find my own sasquatch adventure reflected in history!

Oh never mind.

His Mother’s Pie

This is like the time that one April there was a sheep up-rising (on account of the Basque’s left early that year) so I took the old highway instead of the interstate and found a whole unopened thing of Swedish Fish in the barrow pit, but in my ignorance I never thought to maybe thank a Kindly Hairy One for the delicious bounty.

When You Count Topaz That Almost Makes It Come True

Well I don’t know if historically it is worse to count or not count Topaz but could be this is a miraculous prophecy indeed.

Sister Biddlecome and the Caked Breasts

Well this one i didn’t fully understand the issue. I asked LaRene have your breasts ever caked and she said What? And I said did your BREASTS ever CAKE and she just looked at me for a long bit and then said are you saying CAKE? But we both agreed that watching a Chosen Skunk Ape rub larded tobacco on that woman’s suffersome teats must  have been a faith-promoting sight indeed.

So some of you Hot Dog Folks reading this you might say: this is old timey nonsense those were a superstitious people and so stupid. And fair enough okay yes these are from long ago, But like that man that Died said what if I showed you One More Thing I researched, this is a Modern Day accounting from another one from the BookMobile called The Big Book of Angels:

Well. Sacred Hallowed Shape-shifting Pie-Teleporting Delta-Prophecying Female-Breast-Tobacco-Rubbing Bigfoot Dudes With Swords.  Arrest my case. It is my solem testimony that knowing these things are true has made me sleep just a little bit better at night and I hope the same is true now for you also. But if you still have a worry or so about what if Cain the Bigfoot grows in Power, well don’t fret too much the sun and moon people Brigham Young taught us about will probably help us out if we need them to In the name of jesus christ amen.

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Hot Dog Appreciation Day

Hot Dog Appreciation Day: Collateral Voodoo Damage

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TEAMWORKING DAY

Teamworking Day: WorldWatch, Issue #3

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Hot Dog Appreciation Day

Hot Dog Appreciation Day: The Problem With Slopdong

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TEAMWORKING DAY

Teamworking Day: Dirty Tennis 🌭

Last month we looked at Couch Potato Workout, an aerobics instructional spoof for the home video market. It was one joke, the obvious one, immediately driven into the ground with a touch of Nazi. If there was any system in place to keep man from destroying itself, this was a mistake we should have only been allowed to make once, but at the end of that tape was an advertisement for something very similar called Dirty Tennis starring Dick Van Patten. There is nothing, No One watching over us, and 1989’s Dirty Tennis proves it.

Seanbaby: Dirty Tennis is a VHS guide to cheating at tennis written by Dick Van Patten’s son. It’s not exactly a spoof of anything and takes place in a universe without consequence or reason featuring Knots Landing’s Nicolette Sheridan. To think this is in any way describable is madness, though. These are the final imaginings of a tennis player’s brain as a wild animal bites through their skull. Nightmarish, unfinished ideas of senseless tennis, but hornier than I’m making it sound. I guess picture a tennis enthusiast’s head getting chewed off by a really hot bear.

Brockway: I’ve seen that bear. That bear can get it. And that bear takes it

But to the point: The fact that one ā€˜mock instructional fitness video disguising a mean-spirited comedy vanity project’ to exist is lunacy. For pitching it, you should be laughed out of the room. For writing it, you should be lashed to a donkey and sent into the desert. For actually producing and distributing it to the market, you should be killed. No jokes. Just put down humanely with a boltgun because something is wrong in your brain that can’t be made right. But for two of these videos to exist? This is treason against reality. 

Brockway: The tape opens with a brief biography of Dick Van Patten, but they figure you already know him from four seasons of Eight is Enough a decade earlier (you don’t). He looks like a sasquatch failing puberty and he has the personality of a wish-granting hobgoblin trying to trick you out of your children. The segment ends by saying he’s a nice family man (he’s not), but “beneath this warm exterior beats a heart of stone. A cold-blooded reptile loyal to no one! A man who plays… Dirty Tennis.”

So Wish Goblin. We’ve got confirmation of Wish Goblin.

Seanbaby: Dick gives a humorless, angry rant about how tennis players with skill and finesse can fuck themselves because tennis is about winning. If there’s some context that makes any of this funny, it was not included on the video. If this was called Carroll O’Connor’s Guide to Kicking Dogs (For “Whites” Only), it would have the same tone.

Brockway: Dick Van Patten, who looks like frame #12 in a no-budget werewolf transformation, opens his video with an insane assumption. You, who have purchased this tennis VHS for an exorbitant amount of money, hate tennis. But you are being forced to play it, perhaps in some kind of winner-take-all underground tennis tournament for the deed to a contested rec center, featuring a colorful cast of motley teens against an evil tycoon. Also, you’re the evil tycoon.

Seanbaby: Dick screams for a while about the piece-of-shit hotshots who are good at tennis. I think he did his own wardrobe and makeup because he is wearing a pink tank top and twelve pounds of gray shoulder hair. He looks like something Jim Henson would design if you asked him for a puppet who loves butchering prostitutes and outdoor concerts. They had to give an acting credit to the colony of termites feeding on his arm lice. He looks like a quilt in a home where twenty cats starved to death.

Brockway: I know we’re harping on this but it’s impossible to overstate how much Dick Van Patten looks like a bathmat with cancer.

Seanbaby: He’s like an ugly doll you would give a yeti baby.

Seanbaby: In Part I: THE DIRTY SET UP, Dick shows us how to get started on our day of deceit and unsportsmanlike behavior. He welcomes Olympic legend Caitlyn Jenner, who was of course Bruce in 1989, to his house for a friendly tennis match. It’s Caitlyn’s first time here and they have not met before, which means this world class athlete is showing up to a strange old man’s home who plans to pointlessly cheat in a private activity with no stakes. It’s already so annoying. The best case scenario is that Caitlyn Jenner leaves without kicking his ass.

Brockway: This is such an obvious man-trap. This was the 1980s, it was a decade full of man-traps. For you to be a successful young athlete — an absolute prime candidate for jaded debutantes to hunt — and willingly show up to this obvious murder is unheard of naivete. You stroll up to this blatant man-trap, this advertised man-trap, this absolute dare of a man-trap — ā€œnobody will fall for this one, Dick, I shall bet my prize mount Sparklesham on it!ā€ — and have the nerve to bring nothing but a tennis racket and brownface? That’s called moxie and I like it. Ten thousand Kruggerands on the fox this round, Van Patten!  

Seanbaby: Dick’s advice is immediately dumb, yet mirthless and sincere. He tells you to dress like an asshole to annoy your opponent, so maybe displaying the white mold fruiting from his back and arms was a deliberate choice?

Brockway: He is without question waiting for a strong breeze to spread his Van Patten seeds on the wind like a musky dandelion.

Seanbaby: His next advice is to do a round of tequila shots and hope they don’t join you (because it’s secretly tea). This gives them the illusion you’re playing “just for fun,” a thing no one had any reason to doubt. Please believe me when I say this segment includes no jokes or attempts at comedy. The video is genuinely advising us to sacrifice our dignity and personal relationships for even the tiniest psychological advantage in an unranked tennis match. And he is so proud of himself for giving Caitlyn Jenner, gold medal-winning decathlete, a “false sense of security” against a furry Love Boat regular twice her age. Right out of the gate it is so stupidly psychotic, and I am terrified of how this may escalate.

Brockway: Why would you not join him for a drink? He’s established this is just a fun weekend game. It’s an insane gamble predicated on the idea that wealthy elites would never drink at an inopportune time, and I used to be a server at several private clubs: I have seen millionaires drink trash mimosas out of the bus tub at a child’s birthday party.

Seanbaby: Right? This either disappoints a confused person or does nothing. And dear God, there’s no possibility of this bit being funny to anyone, so maybe this is James Van Patten’s way of asking the cast and crew for help with his father’s drinking problem?

Seanbaby: Dick’s next tip is to ruin your opponent’s warm up by making them run for the ball while you stay in one place. Which requires you to both not know what “warm up” means and also be playing against someone who returns the ball precisely to you every time. It’s nothing. It’s not comedy; it’s not advice. It’s like saying the key to winning at poker is getting four aces and asking the other players if you can milk their ugly wives.

Brockway: Okay, but that is exactly how you win at poker. 

Seanbaby: That’s a good point. Also, it’s worth noting Dick Van Patten fucking sucks at this sport. Caitlyn is cranking the ball from both sides of the court and Dick is dinking lobs over the net like a six-year-old who hates his first tennis lesson. Some of the other Dick tips include lying about the opening coin toss and pretending you can’t throw a ball so your opponent never gets a chance to practice their serves. Just humiliate yourself! Like a winner would! Look at this piece of shit:

Brockway: He throws like a billionaire’s child who just discovered somebody accidentally smothered his funnest slave and he absolutely will not be consoled until he’s allowed to crash a Ferrari into the pool.

And what is this supposed to accomplish? Look at Caitlyn’s reaction: stationary befuddlement. Even in the video this doesn’t wear her down or psych her out. She just kind of looks to either side and thinks for a moment. You could achieve the same result by asking her whether she uses her right or left hand to smother fun-slaves.

Seanbaby: In Part III: THE DIRTY GAME PLAN, Dick tells you to play the first few games normally, but badly, so your opponent does not suspect you of cheating. They’ll only think you’re terrible at tennis, a drunk liar, a bad dresser, and medically unfit to play outside. Dick mocks Caitlyn’s ability and confidence while he loses point after point. Caitlyn is being lured right into a trap, this unknowing fool who was more recently “the greatest athlete on the planet” than Dick Van Patten was a “celebrity.” Again, I want to emphasize this is not presented like anything you or I would know as comedy. It’s wholehearted cheating instructions for beginner and under players looking to make sports less fun for others.

Brockway: But we’re doing all of this to win! To win at any cost! To win nothing but bragging rights! This isn’t even about gambling, that’s reserved for woodland manhunts and saucy thoroughbreds. The whole premise of this tape is that you’ll cheat your way to an extremely minor victory: How does losing several games in an embarrassing way equate to victory unless-

Nope. Got it. 

Dick Van Patten’s a tennis sub and he’s tricking Caitlyn into sport-domming him. 

I now understand the demographic for this tape. Shit, they even called it ā€œDirty Tennis.ā€

Seanbaby: For a weirdly long time, Dick does little dances and frolics which he claims are “distracting,” which he thinks is “funny.” It’s worse than bad. If a military prisoner screamed this script under torture, it would be the greatest case ever made against enhanced interrogation. He has been intentionally bad at tennis for ten minutes to win at tennis! And there hasn’t been a joke yet!

Brockway: It’s been a while since we pointed out that Dick Van Patten looks like a withered 7-11 wiener fumbled at a dog groomer. So I thought maybe we could take a second and do that.

Seanbaby: You bring up a good point about how Dick Van Patten looks like something a worried Jimmy Carter would show his urologist.

Seanbaby: Part I was pretending to be a drunk invalid, Part II was being a dick, and Part III was intentionally losing three straight games. So now you’re ready for Part IV: BASIC DIRTY TENNIS. Dick starts with a trick he calls “IN OR OUT” where you ask your opponent if they breathe in or out on a serve. Just fuck their whole mind with a simple question they’ll probably be able to answer. I’ll show you how it works: do you read with your mouth open or closed? Now I’m in your head, and there’s a good chance you’ll asphyxiate by the end of Brockway’s next paragraph. It’s called Dirty Typing. And do you read with your mouth around a lover’s asshole? Because that’s also called Dirty Typing, naughty girl.

Brockway: Out. 

You breathe in leading up to a serve and out on the serve itself. It’s the reason tennis players famously grunt or yell as they hit the ball. I don’t play tennis and I know this. From just basic observation and also because that’s how all sports work. You exhale at the moment of effort. It’s why karates yell ā€œhi-ya!ā€ when they strike, or why soccer players yell ā€œhola!ā€ everytime they kick the ball.

Seanbaby: Caitlyn is starting to get pissed which means it’s time for Trick #7: “HE’S THINKING I’M THINKING HE’S DINKING.” It’s where Dick crowds the net, baiting Caitlyn into being macho and serving it deep “thus increasing his chances of making a mistake.” It’s a desperate gambit– hoping your opponent’s toxic masculinity short circuits their ability to play sports. It’s not impossible, but if they have the tiniest bit of self control or maybe some other reason for not adhering to strict gender identities, you’re fucked.

I should remind you I’m not leaving out any gags. The video long ago left behind the conceit of “comedy sketch.” It is now “unlikely tennis schemes for sociopaths.” And they’re not even clear. The “MONKEY SEE MONKEY DO” trick is to just hit the ball hard after the last trick “tricked” your opponent into serving it gently and right to you. Which means this was written by someone who can’t do comedy or tennis.

Brockway: We’re no longer trying to lose? This adds yet another wrinkle – if this isn’t for tennis masochists to cum to, and it is — then who is it for? It’s for people who love terrible jokes, baseless cruelty, and telling people how to do sports wrong? How is that a target aud-

Oh, it’s for gym teachers. 

Seanbaby: Dick Van Patten finally gives us advice we can use. He suggests installing a sunning spot near your tennis court and “have your sons invite their most beautiful girlfriends over” to distract your opponent with their hot bikini bodies. This line made the writer, one of Dick’s sons, remember women exist, so he added the caveat, “Of course, if you’re playing a woman, you must adjust accordingly. Perhaps have one of your sons mow the lawn in a Speedo bathing suit.” The point is, whatever gender you identify as, nothing pleasant is going to happen to you at the Van Patten estate.

Brockway: It’s an equal opportunity nightmare. Every visitor leaves the Van Patten estate looking like they wrestled an alpaca, and smelling like they wrestled an alpaca, and quietly sobbing like they lost a wrestling match to an alpaca with very high stakes.

Seanbaby: Caitlyn watches the sunbathing woman get undressed and whimpers, and I quote, “I’D LIKE TO TELL YOU SOMETHING. I LOVE THE MOVIE THE SURE THING. I MEAN WITH YOU LYING THERE ON THAT BEACH WITH THAT… DARK TAN…” The pitch of her voice rises higher and higher, “… AND THAT GOLDEN HAIR BLOWING IN THE WIND.” Her words are coming out like a baby bird’s death rattle by the time she gets to, “…AND THAT SKIMPY BIKINI! *hhhsssssss* Ah, boy. And then slowly rubbing that hot oil into that luscious skin.” I swear this isn’t a trans joke, but Caitlyn Jenner spends all of Dirty Tennis looking and hissing at Nicolette Sheridan like she wants to carve her up for parts.

Seanbaby: So through sheer dumb luck, the first straight comedy bit in Dirty Tennis, “horny dude distracted by bikini babe,” is undercut by the already strange choice to cast Caitlyn Jenner as the tennis bro. Which means this video is bad in an almost supernatural way. It’s like if a character in an early John Landis movie screamed, “The Dean can’t kick us out of school for killing a couple kids with a helicopter! It’s not like we’re out here raising sexual abusers as sons!”

Brockway: Because John Landis would go on to direct the controversial horror flick Bad Touch Helicopter. I get this reference.

Senbaby: Oh, good. I’m glad the reference landed. I didn’t want everyone to leave our article about the cruel, unfunny cheating instructional starring a trans woman as a leering pervert to google “John Landis sex criminal son” and be like, “aww, now I’m bummed out.”

Seanbaby: The next trick is to not answer your outside tennis court phone– let it ring! That’s it! Caitlyn Jenner can’t play tennis near phones, and maybe your opponent can’t either! The next, “SHOE BUSINESS,” is to tie your shoe. I’ve left out zero details, and out of respect for these hilarious gags I’m not going to add anything to them. We’re going to simply sit here together and enjoy the zaniness of ringing phones and shoe tying. Wait, ha ha, I should let you know it takes Dick two or three seconds longer than you’d expect to tie a shoe. Ha ha ha ha

Brockway: It’s important to note that while the director artfully frames these shots and cutaways so that you never see them, everyone on set spent so long watching Dick Van Patten’s lax, fuzzy old-man balls dip out of his short shorts that they’ve got retina burn. They close their eyes and just see them swaying there, like rotten kiwifruit on a frosty morning. 

Seanbaby: His balls must look exactly like smaller versions of himself in this outfit. I bet it all on this. Everything I have.

Brockway: Ten thousand Krugerrands on the testicles being mini-Dicks!

Seanbaby: There are quite a few variations on this idea of holding up the game and wasting everyone’s time. It’s the empty cruelty of a grade school bully applied to adult friendships. Dick could have saved everyone thirty minutes if he said, “Spit on your house guest the moment they get out of their car and tell them they’re not welcome in your home. This should affect their tennis game.” To be clear, Dick Van Patten would smear diarrhea on every chair in his home to get an edge in a game of Yahtzee. He would 1000% deliver you the exhumed remains of your parents in a burlap bag to get a mental edge on you in a sack race.

Brockway: Dick Van Patten is the kind of guy who would kidnap the prey’s kids just to give him a one-up in a manhunt — it’s not about winning, it’s supposed to be a test of man’s will to survive. Assholes like you are ruining the purity of the sport, Dick. You’re why we can’t manhunt in national parks anymore, and have to settle for hobo and drifter game only.

Seanbaby: I need everyone to understand: fuck this video. One of Dick’s tips, “OLDIE BUT GOODIES,” is to play music. This is apparently another one of your tennis opponent’s many, many weaknesses. Caitlyn asks him to turn it off, but Dick says, and I quote, “It’s my favorite new song,” and then “it’s the song that was playing on the night that I was married, also the night that my first son was born!” The fact any human could have this idea much less write it down should make us all embarrassed. If I was beamed before an alien council and asked to defend this clip, I’d tell them, “You’ve seen what we men have done; what we’re capable of. If you space monsters are here to judge us, let me skip to the verdict: throw the fucking switch. And may the rest of the galaxy witness what Dirty Tennis will cost them.”

Brockway: Yeah, I’m okay with us actually trying to get this going. Like maybe one of our stretch goals is to rent a radio telescope and beam Dirty Tennis to the stars in the hopes that we get the justice we need, but that God is too much of a coward to dispense. 

Seanbaby: Look at what Earth has created, stars! This is what we’ve done with the cosmic miracle of life! Fuck you, stars! Fuck you!

Seanbaby: In Part V: ADVANCED DIRTY TENNIS, the gags go from “sort of annoying” to “criminal conspiracy.” Dick’s son, Vincent, who they introduce as a world-ranked tennis pro, uses his professional tennis skills to climb a nearby tree and shoot Caitlyn in the eyes with reflected light. It fucking wrecks her. She gets knocked off her feet squealing. She is losing her mind. Dick Van Patten has destroyed her, and I’m not even sure he’s dug his way out of the three game hole he intentionally put himself in. He did all this, all of this, to lose.

Brockway: Look, I realize I keep going back to this ā€˜hunt man for sport’ well, but I have seen that exact son fire a crossbow at Van Damme. There’s no way they’re not practicing these tactics for use in the palatial woodlands behind the Van Patten estate. The one with the hobo signs for ā€˜Most Dangerous Game scenario’ (running stick figure, tennis racket) scratched into the trees. If this video doesn’t end with them opening fire on Caitlyn, I’ll lick Dan Van Patten’s sick chihuahua of a neck.

Seanbaby: Dick’s other sons are dressed up like a racist with a leaf blower and a murderer with a shotgun. Because at this point they might as well start shooting at Caitlyn, which they do

Brockway: I don’t even feel good about calling this. One look at the production quality told any idiot that this was a snuff film right from the very start.

Seanbaby: Yeah, this was at least nine Get Outs worth of warning signs. Caitlyn should have seen this coming by “SHOE BUSINESS.” Yet here she is getting blinded by one son and deafened by another, while Dick Van Patten’s third son blasts her serve out of the sky with a shotgun. With the strength and passion of an Olympian, she knocks herself out with her own bad acting. And after the white light… the first thing she sees is the Devil:

Outer Space, Future Civilizations, God… you’re all cowards if you don’t destroy us for Dirty Tennis. If the world exists tomorrow and we’re not opening our eyes to an expanse of only Dick Van Patten, you’re sending an unequivocal message that there is no answer, no justice for our evil deeds. You’re saying we, all of life and meaning, was beaten by Dirty Tennis.


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