FRIDAY FAIL

Friday Fail Shallow Thoughts of the Week
 
Last week I suffered through the three-hour roast of Tom Brady on Netflix. Some jackass wag had opined how great it was to finally see some cutting-edge, non-woke humour, so, even though it was emceed by Kevin Hart, who’s about as funny as ball cancer, I gave it a go. I don’t think there’s a single adjective that would do justice to how awful the roast was, but imagine gang banging Hillary Clinton, Nancy Pelosi, Maxine Waters, and Rachel Levine, and you’ll get the picture.
 
There were lots of well-worn jokes about fatties, even more about genitals, and even a couple of good-natured jabs on ‘Jewishness,’ none of which was cutting-edge or remotely funny. I’ve laughed more reading obituaries. And the language would make a marine blush. Everyone here knows I don’t shy away from the f-word, but it always has to serve a purpose, such as emphasizing an important point, or describing what I dream of doing with Rachel McAdams. But every last one of the roasters seemed to employ the word to prove how unconventional and audacious they were. “Aren’t I fucking cool, how motherfucking often I fucking say fuck?”
 
I hearken back to the Dean Martin roasts of old in the seventies, where naturally-funny comedians teased the guest of honour with actual humour. No bad language, no bathroom humour, just funny affronts. One can still watch them (on YouTube) and laugh much of the way through.
 
So let us show these current sorry sods how it’s done, shall we? We shall roast Jim, and, following the format of a typical roast, each other. If I get one chuckle out of you, well, that’s one more than you would’ve got out of the three-hour Brady shitfest, and if I get none, at least I only wasted three minutes of your time as opposed to three hours.
 
Jim, please be seated at centre stage. . . I’m your host, Bob P, and I’m here to talk about the man of the hour. This man is smart, handsome, witty, classy, and affable. The dude is a great writer, popular with all the guys, and sought after by all the ladies. But enough about me. My chore now is to insult the bozo who runs this site. It will ever remain a mystery why such a scurrilous character as Jim is being honoured. I guess all the worthy people had something better to do like mucking up horse stables. I’ll try to avoid sordid tales of Jim’s past; he swears he’s reformed. All I’ll say is his former cellmate misses him very much. 
 
It’s standard in roasts to recount highlights from the dishonoured guest’s formative years, but, after researching this for the better part of 15 seconds, I concluded there were none. So I asked his father for a few memorable moments from Jim’s childhood that I could relay, but he couldn’t remember any. So I asked his mom, and she said, “Who’s Jim?” His siblings said they can remember him but didn’t want to. So I ended up asking his cute cousin, but all she told me, “Stop staring at my chest, pervert.”
 
Everyone could tell that Jim as a youngster was destined for awesome mediocrity. He’d say, “Daddy, when I grow up I want to be a garbage man,” and his father would counsel, “Don’t aim too high, son; with your brains it’s a recipe for disappointment.”
 
They say friendship is priceless, but I’m here to tell you the value I put on our friendship, Jim . . . a buck-thirty-seven. As kids, Jim told everyone I was his best friend. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I hated him. I must say, though, if Jim were drowning, I’d be the first to throw him an anchor.
 
Now let us pick on other undistinguished guests in the crowd. Let’s see . . . Who to insult? Such fertile territory here on FF.
 
YourAverageJoe, people have accused you of being mean, short-tempered, and malodorous, but I’m here to tell everyone . . . those are his good points. Just kidding, sir. We love you as much as you love cats.
 
Retirednottired’s still pissed from the time his grandson said his favorite vegetable was him. His grandson then assured him he was just kidding, only to add that he was actually his third favorite vegetable after corn and potatoes.
 
Bauls, I’m guessing your mother had a very tough labour to name you that. Or maybe that’s your last name, in which case I hope she named you Harry.
 
Old Sailor fancies himself a ladies’ man. This was his usual opening line upon meeting a pretty gal in the next seaport: “I really love my parents, but for five minutes with you in the sack I would roast them on a spit.” He received several slaps and no fucks. Old Sailor, turns out there are two types of women in the world; there are women who think you’re repulsive, and then there’s your mother.
 
Texas Khaan is just like Genghis, except the only thing Tex ever conquered was a bottle of rum. You tell me if he has a drinking problem; his favourite appetizer is wine, his favourite meal is rum, his favourite fruit is strawberry daiquiri, and his favourite dessert is Chocolate Martini. He’s an inspiration to all the alcoholics in Mongolia.
 
A9racer doesn’t have much in the way of convictions, unless you count the one his wife doesn’t know about. I promised not to divulge it, and I’ll keep my promise except to say it didn’t involve a struggle against intemperance, and it did involve a misplaced hand on a salient tit.
 
The wonderful thing about Tigger is . . . nothing. I ran into his best friend and asked for ideas about what to say about him. All he told me was he’s looking forward to shoveling dirt onto Tigger’s casket.
 
Colorado Artist, I saw one of your paintings in a local truck stop men’s room, and I’d say that it was a work of preeminent genius rendered with astonishing élan and saturated with recherché elegance, but I’d be full of shit.
 
nkit, I talked to your best friend, and he maintains you’re forever pissed that no one can tell you apart from your ugly identical twin. Apparently, not even you can! His buddy confided his secret to me, “One time, intent on pleasuring himself, nkit jerked off his twin brother by mistake.”
 
Suds, I think you should stomp back to Dr. Frankenstein and give him hell for forgetting your brain and for giving you a face that frightens children.
 
Little Mouse in the Corner thinks she’s chic, but I understand her favorite cheese is that powdery gunk that comes with Kraft noodles.
 
What can I say about Hardscrabble? Nothing good. Even his imaginary friends hate him. His pronouns are ick and yuck.
 
Student of History, I’m sure Norway would be a fine country if it weren’t for all the damn Norwegians cluttering it up. SoH once thought a man can never have too much sex, but he changed his mind after he went to prison.
 
Devil’s Advocate, were you always like this or did something terrible happen to you? Maybe spent your childhood chained to a pole in the basement?
 
It’s ironic and worryingly humourous that Ironically Satirical, who loves children and sheep, is not permitted within a mile of a school or 5 miles of a sheep farm.
 
Quick now: thm is all thorn and no rose. Anthony Aaron’s all calories and no taste. Twat Waffle is a joke without the humour. Texas Red’s a bomb without the explosion. T4C, your skin is so porcelain-like, you could pass for a toilet. USA Cowboy, you make a great contribution to irrelevance by leading a life of supreme inconsequence. Anon y mous, I’d say something nice about you but I’ve foresworn lying. H20, every time you enter a room the average IQ drops 10 points. Crawdadd, you have a lot in common with my schizophrenic neighbor. On the surface ‘I got a name’ is surly and hateful, but when you get to know him you learn deep down he’s much worse. When we think of star power, the last person who springs to mind is GT Void. Acclaimed and awe inspiring—these are just two epithets that don’t describe the Central Scrutinizer. Mr. Liberty, help me insult you by bringing to mind whatever you hate most; you’re ten of that. Muscledawg, if I had to sum up your talents in one word, I’d say . . . none. Brewer55, your success here at FF rivals Stalin’s success with communal farming. You have to admire Gregabob’s tenacity; he’s persevered through an unending string of failures that would’ve long ago spurred any self-respecting man to suicide. Yancey, when I look at you I wish I was blind, and when you speak I envy the deaf. Talk about a chick magnet . . . and hammie’s name never comes up. Aussie dude, the best thing about our relationship is you’re way the hell on the other side of the planet, so we don’t have one. True Nolan, you always say exactly what we never wanted to hear. Eraser, If brains were water, your head is a desert. anon a moos has all the allure of a drag queen with a personality that’s been compared, albeit not favourably, to toxic waste. fujigm, when I think of you, you move something deep within me; my bowels. red bird, I say this from my heart; you bore me.

I hope it goes without saying, I didn’t mean any of these insults, but for anyone determined to take offense, then I change my mind; I did mean it. So there!

I’m sure I missed people, so join in, guys and gals, and roast anyone you want. Give me hell, too, if you please, especially those of you in my haters’ club. C’mon, make us laugh. Here’s a head start: “Hey, Bob, I notice you included some lines here that you’ve used before on Friday Fail. If you’re gonna plagiarize, shouldn’t it be off someone who’s funny?”
 
Enjoy FF.

Could be true…