Good morning assholes, dongs, perverts, sluts, prudes, nuns, bankers, wife, mom, dad, Ryan, Toby, and all the rest of you various friends, family and pathetic turds that just sit there in front of your dumb laptop or iphone, waiting for your balls to refill, refreshing this page between trips to sixdicksatonce.com, welcome to the BSC year end list for 2009. It’s been a hellish year, people. Make no mistake. There’s no prize in Valhalla or beyond that could possibly make me ever want to re-experience the fiery ass-juice storm that was 2009. But, to be fair, in the words of the great William Murderface, “I’d rather die than live forever,” so fuck it. Let’s roll. First category:
Best casual pastime: Now, this wasn’t easy. There were lots of fun ways to while away the hours that really came into their own in this last year of the aughts, but none so succinctly embodied the feeling of 2009 like scrapbooking the disembodied vaginas that you remove from the hookers you kill. When I saw Sean Hannity and his mom doing this at his boyhood home in Franklin Square on his Christmas special, I said to myself, “wow, now THAT’S a trend that really took off in 2009.” I mean, who’d a thought it? Hannity? Pretty hip for a neo con, gotta say.
What? Look, in my public speaking class they told me you have to have an opener that’s gonna get the audience’s attention. Sheesh. Relax a little. Go have a drink, put some partitioned vulvas under some cellophane like the rest of us and come back when you’re mature enough to handle the subject at hand.
Up next, best infant Car Seat:
I’m gonna have to go with the Ricarro, simply because it’s got a uh…ease of, um, adjusting, and the range is, uh…and don’t forget the standards of excellence and safety set up by the…ah, fuck it. This is the only car seat that I’ve seen this year. My kid’s not dead, so it must be pretty sweet. New parents, take note.
Okay, best place to hide a cigar:
For the third year in a row ‘your ass’ wins again. Not only is it a highly pneumatic spot for a cigar to chill, but also, it’ll keep you from smoking cigars if you just scramble that ass cigar around with all the rest of your cigars, and hey, smoking kills. So there’s that. Funny story, my friend Eric and I once smoked a pair of Romeo y Julietta’s that his step mom had smuggled from cuba in her pussy. No joke.
I’ve got celiac disease! My mom died! I’ve got ADD! I’m chronically fat! My parents locked me in the basement for weeks at a time! Sure, there were lots of total bullshit excuses making their rounds in 2009, but in my world, none seemed to pop up more than the old tried and true “I’m pregnant.” Sheesh, who do you have to blow to get a blowjob and someone else to carry the new TV up the stairs around here? I mean, am I right?
Biggest personal regret:
This year I wrote and directed and starred in a movie. Now, I don’t regret that at all. I’m stoked to get it all done and up and running. However, why did I cast myself as the guy with the mustache? I’ve had this fucking mustache for almost six months now. No wonder my wife won’t look at me. First, a planned pregnancy and now a mustache? I’m more animal than man. Also, I’m kind of Italian, and I’m super sick of looking like the youngest Mario brother. Here’s to twenty ten, where my upper lip’s gonna be as hairless as toby Jeg’s dimpled chest all year long.
Best TV show:
Man vs Food. Finally, Americans have a nice, affable, clean cut guy to get behind in the great quest to completely perpetuate the stereotype that we’re wasteful, thoughtless pig-men who like nothing more than to ideologically shit onto the faces and souls of the millions of starving people in this world by sending some tubby choad around the world to try and stuff six pounds of pizza dough in his face for a free tee shirt. Also, Adam’s a funny dude and I really like watching the show, but hey, man. Competitive eating is like gay Christianity. Ideologically fucked, no matter how many rules you want to pretend aren’t there.
Best new snack:
Salmon in the can. I mix the shit with horseradish mustard and an onion and eat it and it’s healthy and delicious and if you eat that shit right after hitting the gym you’ll feel like you just got a shot of B12 into your nuts. Also, it’s revolting and you’d better make sure no one’s around or they’ll be disgusted by your stinky, stinky onion-fish can, but man, shit’s tasty and cheap. Hey, don’t you guys think it’s just so crazy that my old lady isn’t absolutely jumping all over my salmon/onion breath, mustache and filthy demeanor (I recently scratched my balls in my sleep, then, later, scratched my face. The smell of my hand caused me to wake up screaming in the night and had to go wash my face, balls and hand in abject terror, to the chagrin of my sleeping and now quite pregnant wife. I blame my friends Eric and Noelle, who we were staying with in Denver. They’re hippies and they use all that fake hippy soap that…you know what? New award:
Who the fuck came up with the idea that hippies had any authority at all to make products to clean things? Hippies are, by definition, stinky, filthy and dedicated to products and ideals that are slipshod and half assed at best (see peace, Ritchie havens, Volkswagen busses) and completely fucking terrible most of the time (Jefferson airplane, dream catchers, moveon.org) So, thanks Burt’s Bees, and Tom of Maine and Sally with her handsoap and all the rest of you, but after a week of using your products, I SMELL LIKE SHIT!!!!! So do all the people who use your products. Know why? Because the war’s over and the bums lost. Know why? Cuz you people can’t competently make anything but ice cream. That’s why.
Best Juggalo Based Event:
The tenth annual gathering of the Juggalos. Now, I wasn’t there, but I heard shit was absolutely POPPIN OFF, yo! There were titties, faygo, wrestling, hot dogs, campsites, titties, blowjobs, tons of rapes, fat people, face paint, pies, barbed wire, bad tattoos, titties, and even more fat guys. Congratulations Tenth annual Gathering of the Juggalos! You’re the definitive juggalo based event of 2009. Thank god.
Best completely meaningless phrase:
“There are two kinds of people in this world”
It seems like, with the rise of this manufactured outrage that has become so terribly popular in America this year, ever since every dumb dick taster got a blog or a tv show and decided to ‘tell it like it is’ and ‘not take it anymore’, these great, divisive statements have been all the rage. Well, let me let you all in on a little secret: This is what smart idiots say to impress dumber idiots. You can ALWAYS draw a line and notice that everyone falls on one side or the other. Want some examples? Here you go:
There are two kinds of people in this world, those who rape and murder little boys and then bury them in satanic patterns in their crawlspace and those who don’t.
There are two kinds of people in this world, those who suck the dicks of seven random strangers just for the thrill of it, and those who don’t.
The funny thing is that you can use this with preferences too, like: there are two kinds of people, those who are pro cutting vaginas out of dead hookers and scrapbooking those selfsame vaginas, and those who are against it. This is effective because it DARES you to not be actively opposed, even though, come on, who’s opposed to 2009’s greatest pastime, am I right? Anyway, there’s even another way that this tricky little piece of oratorical magic works. It’s when it’s used with hot button issues: There are two types of people in this world, those who are for gay marriage, and those against it.
Well, there are ALSO all the people who don’t give a shit one way or the other, but guess what? They don’t give a shit, so they’re not gonna speak up and demand to be heard. It’s really a speaking and persuasion tool that epitomizes the level of intelligent discourse we’re having in this country. Now, there’s two kinds of people out there. Those who think that last statement is offensive, those who think it’s sadly true, and those who think it’s patriotic, AND those who are ready for the next category.
Best fecal matter disposal tool-
For the fifth straight year, the toilet wins again. Sorry Big Mac wrapper, couch cushions, and hole dug in the back yard, it was a valiant effort, but in the end, Thomas crapper’s little baby just managed to squeeze past ya.
Best spirit: Man, this year, I’ve been into vodka, and I got turned on to Tito’s when they got a free bottle delivered to my bar. This is far and away the best vodka I’ve ever tried. I drink vodka with club soda, and let me tell you, after one titos, I switched to Ketel just to have a little perspective, and Ketel tasted like fucking gas in comparison. Listen, the bottle design? Yeah, it’s shitty. It looks like something that you get in that old man/ rape bar over by the motel six, but trust me. that shit is GOOD. It’s clean, it’s even good neat. That’s traditionally IMPOSSIBLE for a vodka. Titos is distilled like six times or something. They’re taking real care in the creation of this product. I don’t have any affiliation with them, but man, they’re the last of the last, people doing something great because they know how to do it great without cutting corners or fucking around. AND, it’s not outrageously expensive. That’s cool. Uh, felching, Uh…barf. Uh…hardy har har. Okay, moving on.
Best Drug: Ritalin
Last year, this category went to adderal, but man, that shit’s too strong and clean. Want a viper? Want some money? Then suit up with some Ritalin. Just a couple of those little green pills in the beginning of the evening will make you a smooth talking limp dicked superman for the rest of your time at the bar. Added bonus: This shit’s prescribed to high school kids, who are super easy to beat the shit out of/coax with views of tits.
Most horrifying miscarriage of justice:
The death of sparks.
Man, oh man. What a tragedy. They took the mojo out of sparks. Yo, they didn’t fuck with Joose, did they? They didn’t fuck with Camo, they didn’t fuck with AM, they didn’t fuck with ANYTHING but sparks. Well, guess what? I’ve got a secret for you fuckers. You want a classic sparks but you don’t know what to do? Here’s the solution. Get a new, totally pussified sparks, and take a big swig, then dump a five hour energy in there. It’s sparks, baby. Yeah, sure. It’s not as easy, but hey, we need to get our Quaaludes from India now and you can’t even get a decent back alley abortion without heading down to mexico. All the best stuff is getting harder to come by, but it’s just making us smarter, folks. Let em try to break us. Am I right? Anyone? Bueller? Sheesh.
Sean “puffy” combs- nobody is so utterly disgusting to me as this alien faced, revolting perfume doused foul breathed, open mouth, tongue out repulsazoid. Oh, what was the category? Oh. Never mind.
Have you seen the dick and abs on this guy? You could root out your toilet and grate cheese respectively! Oh what’s that you say? He’s not actually famous? Well, uh…I dunno…benji madden? Um, Mateo? Fuck you guys. I like my answer. Who cares if he’s not famous. He’s a goddamn dreamsickle wrapped in a hot dicked dream and a forcefield of hyper-bonability and such.
Once again, Bad Sandwich Chronicles narrowly beats out ishootporn.com for best blog. Never before has wit met the sloppy wetness of ballsacks slapping together idly with such timely and timeless zeal, such chutzpa, such a complete disregard for fact checking. Congratulations BSC! You’re the best, once again.
That’s all for now. Join us in the next couple of days for the BSC best of the decade!