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Wednesday, Dec 07, 2016
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Quite Interesting
Dumbledork

We had a question about Q.I. this week, which made my geeky heart slightly less black for a second there. It’s not well known here in the States, but it’s a fantastic show. Take a well-learned host, add some celebrity guests, and throw in Alan Davies as the ever-present but lovable punching bag, and you’ve got a solid half hour of television. The fun of it is that most of the time people are just bullshitting. The topics are so obscure that it’s rare that someone knows what’s going on. It’s amusing to not only hear the witty (and not-so-witty) banter that results, but to also see the guests work towards the correct answer with gentle (and
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My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize. He would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...pretty standard, really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum; it's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.


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The Capitol Garage
1500 K Street
Sacramento, CA
95814
Wednesday, Nov 30, 2016
[Wednesdays @ 8:30 pm]
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"Militant Buddhists" Seems Like an Oxymoron
Dumbledork

This week’s quiz mentioned the good old-fashioned ethnic cleansing going on in Burma. It appears the Buddhist government doesn’t care for the Muslims in the country, hence the killing and maiming. Most religions at least sorta have an excuse for this kind of thing. They’ve got stuff about being the Chosen People, or converting infidels, or crap like that. Awful and/or stupid people are bound to use that kind of thing as justification for all manner of misdeeds. It’s inevitable. But if there are similar tenets in Buddhism, I sure haven’t come across them. Seems like a relatively difficult religion to cock up, all things considered. Yet somehow it
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My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize. He would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...pretty standard, really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum; it's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.


  • Quiz Image
The Capitol Garage
1500 K Street
Sacramento, CA
95814
Wednesday, Nov 23, 2016
[Wednesdays @ 8:30 pm]
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Oy, With the Blogging Already!
Dumbledork

As noted in this week’s quiz, Gilmore Girls has new episodes coming out on Friday after a nine and a half year layoff. Normally this news would be essentially meaningless to me, but I’m the theme quiz editor, and let’s just say that it seems pretty relevant right now. As such, I’m binge-watching the show, since editing things is easier when you’re familiar with the subject. Surprisingly, I don’t dislike the show. It’s not something I’d have gone out of my way to watch, but it’s a relatively standard female-oriented drama with above-average dialogue. It could be much worse: it could be Sex and the City. Best
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My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize. He would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...pretty standard, really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum; it's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.


  • Quiz Image
The Capitol Garage
1500 K Street
Sacramento, CA
95814
Wednesday, Nov 16, 2016
[Wednesdays @ 8:30 pm]
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Same Diff, Right?
Dumbledork

I’ve always loved stand up comedy, so I was excited about this week’s Round 7 on comedians. The round included Kumail Nanjiani, who you may recognize from Silicon Valley. But just in case you don’t know him—or happen to be a writer for Salon—it’s worth noting that he is not, in fact, Kunal Nayyar, who plays Raj on The Big Bang Theory. It’s totally cool if you thought he was, though. Both guys have the same initials, and they both have two-syllable first names. And c’mon; Kunal and Kumail are essentially the same name.
[ ...more... ]

My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize. He would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...pretty standard, really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum; it's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.


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The Capitol Garage
1500 K Street
Sacramento, CA
95814
Wednesday, Nov 09, 2016
[Wednesdays @ 8:30 pm]
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Blahg
Dumbledork

Don’t have much to say (nothing nice, anyway), but there are still plenty of stats and track listings for you to peruse. See you guys next week.   Track List: Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats – S.O.B. John Cougar Mellencamp – Hurts So Good Rancid – Maxwell Murder Big Boi vs. LCD Soundsystem – Shutterbug Yrslf The Buggles – Video Killed the Radio Star The B-52s – Rock Lobster Nirvana – Rape Me New Order – Crystal Boyz II Men – Motownphilly Cake – Sheep Go To Heaven The Jackson 5 –
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My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize. He would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...pretty standard, really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum; it's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.


  • Quiz Image
The Capitol Garage
1500 K Street
Sacramento, CA
95814
Wednesday, Nov 02, 2016
[Wednesdays @ 8:30 pm]
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Don't Say I Didn't Warn You
Dumbledork

So Budweiser delivered a bunch of beer with a self-driving truck. To that I say, “Who gives a crap?” I’m not sure what the fascination with self-driving vehicles is all about. In fact, I think it’s an awful idea for two primary reasons. 1. I like to drive. I’ll admit, pretty much everyone else drives like a batch of inbred morons, and that’s exceptionally aggravating. I’ve often wondered how people manage to see where they’re going with their heads so far up their asses. But assuming traffic’s light, the speed limit’s high, and the highway patrol isn’t overzealous, I find driving quite enjoyable. I certainly
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My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize. He would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...pretty standard, really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum; it's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.


  • Quiz Image
The Capitol Garage
1500 K Street
Sacramento, CA
95814
Wednesday, Oct 26, 2016
[Wednesdays @ 8:30 pm]
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Does That Make Lando an ATLien?
Dumbledork

It was recently announced that Donald Glover (not to be confused with Danny Glover—no relation) is going to play Lando in the upcoming Han Solo movie. I’m pretty darn excited about this, assuming they don’t have him rap. (There’s a time and a place, Disney. We neither need nor want another “Jedi Rocks.”) I’ve got no idea what the movie’s going to be about—nor do I want to know—but here’s hoping we get to see that sabacc game where Lando loses the Millennium Falcon. In the meantime, I’ll have to get my fix watching old episodes of Community, not
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My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize. He would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...pretty standard, really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum; it's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.


  • Quiz Image
The Capitol Garage
1500 K Street
Sacramento, CA
95814
Wednesday, Oct 19, 2016
[Wednesdays @ 8:30 pm]
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I'll Just Get My Iron From Meat, Thanks
Dumbledork

Can someone explain to me why kale is a thing? Sure, it’s nutritious; I get that. I also understand that I am one of the world’s pickiest eaters. I’m so picky it annoys me, let alone my wife. But c’mon…Kale? From a distance, the actual plant looks hard and aggressive, like some green coral got confused and ended up on land and wants to make you pay for its mistake. Then you get up close and it looks like mutant spinach with a jheri curl. And then, if I’m unlucky enough to put it in my mouth, it’s all crunchy and frondy and weird, and I can literally feel my taste buds committing suicide en masse. Ok, not literally.
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My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize. He would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...pretty standard, really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum; it's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.


  • Quiz Image
The Capitol Garage
1500 K Street
Sacramento, CA
95814
Wednesday, Oct 12, 2016
[Wednesdays @ 8:30 pm]
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Still Less Shameful Than Watching Reality TV
Dumbledork

It started off innocently enough. My wife would watch “Pretty Little Liars” while she was on the treadmill, and I’d “watch” while I worked, ogling the attractive main cast members (who were clearly and amusingly older than the high schoolers they were playing) and scoffing at the ridiculousness of the plot. But ever so slowly, my consumption increased. Pretty soon I was watching the show with my wife and actually paying full attention. Sure, I was still ogling the pretty little ladies and groaning at the plot holes big enough to drive a semi truck through, but I was invested. The show was just ridiculous enough to be entertaining. Then came the
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My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize. He would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...pretty standard, really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum; it's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.


  • Quiz Image
The Capitol Garage
1500 K Street
Sacramento, CA
95814
Wednesday, Oct 05, 2016
[Wednesdays @ 8:30 pm]
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Does Being a Fan Make Me a Scream King?
Dumbledork

Like, OMG, this week’s quiz totally had an audio round clip from “Scream Queens.” If you missed last season, you missed out on a gem of a horror comedy series. It was created by Ryan Murphy of “American Horror Story” fame, and star Emma Roberts hit the nail on the head when describing the series as “‘Mean Girls’ meets ‘Friday the 13th.’” I won’t spoil plot points, just in case you haven’t seen it, but the cast is spectacular. Jamie Lee Curtis knocks it out of the park as the morally ambiguous Dean Munsch. The aforementioned Roberts plays Chanel, essentially her AHS character but less witchy
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My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize. He would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...pretty standard, really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum; it's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.


  • Quiz Image
The Capitol Garage
1500 K Street
Sacramento, CA
95814
Wednesday, Sep 28, 2016
[Wednesdays @ 8:30 pm]
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No Baby Geese Were Juggled During the Making of This Blog
Dumbledork

Last night was the Firefly theme quiz, and boy was it shiny. From a host’s perspective, you’re never quite sure what caliber of fan’s going to show up (unless it’s a Potter quiz; then you know to expect the hardest of hard core geeks). But for any other theme quiz, you always wonder if the quizzers are going to be the type that watched each episode a time or two, or the ones who can recite Serenity’s registry number like River having one of her special moments. Judging by last night’s scores, you guys are far closer to the latter than the former. I was duly impressed. Looking at the round averages, that finish-the-quote round gave you the
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My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize. He would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...pretty standard, really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum; it's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.


  • Quiz Image
The Capitol Garage
1500 K Street
Sacramento, CA
95814
Wednesday, Sep 21, 2016
[Wednesdays @ 8:30 pm]
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Coca Tea Is Actually Pretty Good Too
Dumbledork

This week’s quiz pointed out that Coke used to advertise itself as “the great national temperance beverage.” This amuses me for two reasons: 1. Coke used to contain coke, as I’m sure you know. The amount of cocaine in Coke at the time this slogan was used was certainly diminished from the high point of the drink’s early days, but Coke wasn’t completely coke-free until 1929. It’s exceptionally unrealistic, but I like to imagine stuffy turn-of-the-century teetotalers drinking Coke and getting a mild coke buzz. 2. Coke is such a great mixer! Rum and Coke, whiskey and Coke, liquid cocaine (wink wink)…there are approximately eleventy-billion
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My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize. He would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...pretty standard, really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum; it's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.


  • Quiz Image
The Capitol Garage
1500 K Street
Sacramento, CA
95814
Wednesday, Sep 14, 2016
[Wednesdays @ 8:30 pm]
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Taking That Older Man Thing To the Extreme
Dumbledork

Buffy the Vampire Slayer got a couple of mentions this week, and why not? It’s a Joss Whedon thing, and we all love Joss Whedon things, don’t we? I watched Buffy religiously during its original run, and loved the crap out of it; a couple of friends and I would get together every week and watch it. Good times. But a year or two ago I re-watched most of the series, and you know what? I didn’t like it quite as much as I did the first time around. Don’t get me wrong; it’s still great. But I was in my late teens/early 20s when it originally aired. Apparently my threshold for teen angst was significantly higher back then, because I found it a little heavy-handed
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My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize. He would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...pretty standard, really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum; it's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.


  • Quiz Image
The Capitol Garage
1500 K Street
Sacramento, CA
95814
Wednesday, Sep 07, 2016
[Wednesdays @ 8:30 pm]
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This Blog Is Brought To You By Cialis
Dumbledork

Hurricane Hermine is raging up the East Coast, and when I see that name I immediately think of Hermione from Harry Potter. That got me thinking of the synergistic opportunities being passed up by the World Meteorological Organization. If companies can pay to name stadiums, why not storms?! Sure, the obvious critique of this idea is that Target doesn’t want to be associated with a hurricane that potentially kills people and destroys their homes. But you know what they say: there’s no such thing as bad publicity. But let’s say the heavy hitters are more interested in traditional forms of advertising. No Hurricane Coke Zero or Tropical Storm McDonald’s.
[ ...more... ]

My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize. He would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...pretty standard, really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum; it's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.


  • Quiz Image
The Capitol Garage
1500 K Street
Sacramento, CA
95814
Wednesday, Aug 31, 2016
[Wednesdays @ 8:30 pm]
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What Death?
Dumbledork

By sheer coincidence, tonight’s round 6 featured a question on “Willy Wonka,” reminding us all that Gene Wilder is dead and the world is a mean buttface. Looking at his filmography, it could be argued that he hasn’t really done much since the ‘80s. He’s been relatively reclusive, so while this loss is as painful as any celebrity’s can be, it’s not really robbing us of any art in the way, say, Prince’s or Bowie’s deaths have. Nevertheless, the man was one hell of a funny guy. There’s no debating the fact that his Willy Wonka was iconic (not to mention far superior to Burton and Depp’s stab at the character),
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My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize. He would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...pretty standard, really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum; it's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.


  • Quiz Image
The Capitol Garage
1500 K Street
Sacramento, CA
95814
Wednesday, Aug 24, 2016
[Wednesdays @ 8:30 pm]
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Behind the Bear: The Smokey Bear Story
Dumbledork

It was 1944, and World War II raged across Europe and the Pacific. While the American mainland enjoyed relative safety, the war’s presence was still felt. Supplies were rationed, womenfolk worked tirelessly in the factories, and the US Forest Service was doing their utmost to keep people un-burninated with a newly minted fire safety campaign. For reasons that remain a mystery (surely it wasn’t the super racist posters, ‘cause that kind of thing was cool back then), their awareness campaign wasn’t getting any traction. All that changed when, on August 9, 1944—barely two months
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My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize. He would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...pretty standard, really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum; it's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.