PRESIDENT OF BREAKFAST (Drew)
What? Yuns thought we were gonna endorse actual politicians? Pfft. Guys we are here to talk about the issues. And if bacon ain’t an issue, then I don’t wanna be a citizen.
First of all I gotta tell y’all, I nominated my mammaw for this and she declined. Her biscuits and gravy are all the campaignin’ she’d have to do, but she told me she “don’t have time for that mess” and also asked “what’s the internet?” Then she made me pie. It hit.
So, Jimmy Dean it is. Now I hear what you’re saying – you’re asking “what’s a former country singer know bout leading us into breakfast?!” But the thing is, deep down we all know he’s what this country needs. All those lifelong breakfast candidates have failed us. Denny’s Grand Slam?! More like Grand Scam! The Waffle House used to be a place of value. But in this economy, it is a ripoff! They say Jimmy Dean don’t have good sausage?! He’s got the best sausage. His sausage is incredible. He also has BREAKFAST BOWLS. Have you seen his breakfast bowls? His breakfast bowls are great. There is nothing like his breakfast bowls. China is afraid of his breakfast bowls.
Let’s stick with food for a moment.
OSB is happy to give our full endorsement to Chicken for President of Supper. I know that a lot of you are #SteakOrBust, and yeah, that’s fine when you are 22 and living in your parent’s basement working that part time job at the coffee house between protests – but this is the real world baby. Just ask your dad. “Ain’t nothin’ free round here, boy.. Someone’s gotta pay fer it!”
That’s why Chicken is the more logical choice of the two. And look, I know the Chicken is a dirty animal, and I know the chicken just LIES around all day clucking in her own filth and ruffling her feathers over something she didn’t even give a shit about 4 years ago.. I get that. But to me that makes the Chicken versatile, “Bake me, fry me, boil me, put me in a god damn soup! I’ll be whatever the fuck you want me to be just pick me for the love of Christ!”
All these Brisket Bros have their heads so far up the butchers ass they can’t see their flawed logic! WE CAN’T AFFORD STEAK EVERYDAY! I mean, unless we cut out our unnecessary expenses such as cigarettes, booze, lottery tickets, 5 dollar shitty ass coffees, skirts for poodles, Artisanal waters, and maybe redistribute that money into things we actually need, such as food, then we could actually afford to eat Steak every day. But shit man, I like cigarettes and booze and it’s my right as an American for my hard earned money to go to something that kills thousands of people instead of it going towards ensuring that every American has a juicy Steak every day.
Perfectly marbled, seared on both sides locking in the robust flavor. A cool red center covered in a compound truffle butter that tastes both velvety and earthy at the same time with not even the slightest bit of gristle. The fat hasn’t been trimmed, but it has been charred to a perfection to obtain that salty taste and creamy texture. Each bite an ocean of flavor cascading through your mouth screaming “YES… This is what my mouth needs! The top 1% of Chickens have salmonella and can’t be trusted!”
Fuck my head let’s vote with our hearts! I’ve been putting all my eggs in the wrong basket. The Cow is what we need baby! Not only do we get that Juicy Steak, but everyone gets there fair share of butter!
#FeelTheChurn! Steak for President!
PRESIDENT OF COUNTRY MUSIC (Trae)
Giving the Official OSB endorsement for President is an extremely difficult task and not something that we take lightly. The President of The United States should be someone with strong moral character; someone with not only the ability to make tough decisions, but someone with the patience to see things through to the end and the backbone to stand in the face of great adversity. The POTUS should be kind, classy, intelligent, non-divisive, and probably most importantly – The President of The United States should not be a lizard who inhabited the orange skin of a silver spoon fed, egotistical shit spewing know it all who, despite being rich literally his entire life still has his steaks prepared the same way that my papaw who has brain injuries from the war does.
Hey y’all. This Trae on the intro. Welcome back to Our Sundy Best. So uh…a funny thing happened to me on the way to the blog this week. That video of me shirtless on my back porch just hollerin into the damn void has somehow reached ~19 million views (and counting). That is….I mean……hot damn, y’all.
I figured all these years of literally every cheer mom and cool dad I know pronouncing it ” Tar-zshay” would, if anything, turn Target into some kinda scared French bread shop, but I stand corrected. I guess it made it a classy establishment – with balls. Well done!
But your Aunt Tammy sure is gonna miss the big red box store. And why wouldn’t she? What a magical place it is.
First of all she is gonna miss buying a latte and a hot dog on the way in at the Pizza Hut/Starbucks/minor league baseball concession stand restaurant. Has there ever been a more “one of these things is not like the others” situation? What IS that?
“Here are two international and well known establishments you know and love and also this place that sells carnie food.”
Aunt Tammy always gets her grande no-fat soy latte one sugar and “please spell my name correctly” before she starts shopping. The caffeine makes her feel alive and she won’t apologize for that. The carnie food hot dog is just her special little treat. She’s had a weak spot for them since she was a little girl because she’s always thought talking to carnies counts as having minority friends. Plus it’s is the only thing she’ll eat today until she allows herself half a salad to go with a whole bottle of white zinfandel she will have while watching the Good Wife and being ignored by your Uncle Jim.
I’d like to point out that I do carry some sympathy for the folks who are boycotting Target. It must be hard to be that angry all the damn time. And the real tragedy is they’re likely gonna die that way – mad. Imagine walking around your last day on Earth just FURIOUS about where “sissy boys are peeing” instead of loving your family. Your heart skips two beats on account of all the fried food you’ve said “yes” to throughout the years and bam, heart attack. Your last thought was “damnit all to hell why can’t they just be normal?!”
Aunt Tammy is also gonna miss the little dollar kids section near the front of the stores. Walking by it wistfully, she always thinks about how she wishes her kids would get married and give her grand kids, so she’d have someone in her life who isn’t too cynical to love her. It probably wont happen. Judith, her daughter, is a career woman living in Atlanta and let’s be honest, kind of a slut. At least that’s what the ladies at church say when they think Tammy can’t hear ’em. But a slut on birth control.
Now her son, Billy, well, no one is trying real hard to marry a grown man whose greatest ambition is to “own a sweet speed boat” and wear a Fox Racing T-shirt every day. Tammy figures if he did have kids it would be with some Waffle House waitress who would just try and get all of her money anyway. I mean it’s Jim’s money on account of she don’t work, but they share everything, except loving embraces.
Sigh. She sure will miss that section.
Personally, I just can’t fathom what the endgame is for boycotting Target. They’re so successful they could adopt a “pee on whatever you want in front of everyone” policy and sales might dip a dollar or two. I can hear corporate now:
“Boss, some folks are saying they won’t shop with us anymore because of the bathroom thing.”
– “Is it affecting sales?”
“Well sales of Nicholas Sparks books have frozen, but we literally can’t keep glitter, high heels, or cheap lipstick on the shelves.”
– “It’s the drag queens, Johnson. I knew they’d save us. That’s why I’m the Boss. Now bring me a steak.”
More than anything, what Aunt Tammy will miss is the Target culture. That’s right the CULTURE by God. Target wasn’t for just anyone, it was for HER and her ilk. Meandering through the aisles a slow clip, checking for sweet deals, Target is where she and her kind came to fellowship.
“Is that Sally,” she’d think to herself trying to focus her eyes across the Boys section to the edge of the Electronics. “She looks like she has gained weight. I’m gonna go talk to her.”
Talking to Sally, laughing with Gail from the women’s prayer group about Karen from the women’s prayer group, and just feeling at home – that’s what Target was to her. The poorer women would hurry right to the clearance rack. And good for them. It isn’t their fault their husbands aren’t as successful as Jim is, with his construction business. Sure he’s out of town a lot, and there was that time she broke into his phone that she’s blocked out of her mind forever, but at least they have security.
Of course, the biggest irony of this whole thing, and why Aunt Tammy KNOWS the Devil is involved is that, she sure is gonna miss the bathrooms. The stalls were spacious, the antibacterial floors were clean, and lighting made her look skinnier. How is she supposed to feel calm and relaxed in there now knowing some freak is next to her probably rubbing his genitals to a Broadway musical? To be fair, she loves her gay friend Danny, who is a bartender at the marina where Jim keeps the boat. He always tells her she’s pretty and one time she went to his drag show and that was fun. Those men were skinnier than her; but hell that’s half the problem.
There don’t need to be any freaks or pervs in that bathroom! It just isn’t fair. There was no better place in the whole world to vomit up that hot dog and also usually have to deal with what the coffee had done to her guts. She used to emerge from that bathroom lighter, brighter, and knowing she’d saved so much money on cleaning supplies she would have enough left over to buy a Xanax from Danny. Now, she’s just gonna be stressed and upset!
“I’ll just have to pray for America,” she thinks. “And shop at Wal-Mart, I guess.”
She shudders. “Now THAT is an abomination against God.”
On that, Aunt Tammy, we agree.
OSB editor note: apparently Corey has a real Aunt Tammy. He assumed we all did (which makes sense because who doesn’t?) and that the assignment was to just ask her how she felt about all this. Enjoy.
This whole Target mess has thrown my Aunt Tammy for a complete loop. “What’s this world coming to?” “This is the devil’s work!” “Why can’t I wear sweatpants to a funeral? Sumbitch is dead, he ain’t gonna know!” are things she has screamed at me this week between drags of Pall malls and cracking walnuts between her toes to show off her Beauty Pageant talent.
Target isn’t just a store for my Aunt Tammy, it’s a sign of class. It is a symbol for those who are proud to be past their Wal-Mart roots.. Because Target is for people who used to go to Wal-Mart but have since had their husband Terry win a settlement when the conveyer belt at work took his ring finger. Target is as much a social club as it is a hub for Stepford Wife Commerce. Target is the equivalent of a men’s locker room for women. That’s why all Targets put the electronic section in the back of the store – it draws the men away from what’s really going on. While we are in the back drooling over the fact that the new Expendables dropped on DVD, the women are up front having a Bottled-Blonde Illuminati meeting covering such pressing topics like “How can we get him to put the seat back down?” or “How many body wraps do I need to sell before I can leave Corey and bang all his friends?”
I could go on and on, but hell, I’ll just let Aunt Tammy take over:
“I just don’t know whats wrong with this country. Aint like it was when I was a kid. Back in the good ole days, ya know? The world was such a wholesome place. You’d never have to worry about a man with some titties taking a wee-wee next to your baby girl. I mean, yeah, we was spraying black folks with water hoses but I mean shit, they knew they weren’t supposed to go in that restaurant and knowing them they probably needed a bath too. I just don’t understand it ya know? Now look, I aint a racist or a bigamist or whatever the shit it’s called, I just think there are some things that you should keep to yourself. I think it’s fine if you wanna tuck your ding dong in and squeeze into a halter top.. That’s fine, but keep it at home. Now given, I weigh 300 lbs and think it’s completely fine to wear bicycle shorts to a coffee shop while you’re trying not to puke up your biscotti, but I don’t really see what that has to do with the price of eggs in china.
Back in my day there wasn’t even such a thing as gay people.. And before you say anything, everyone knows Elton John didn’t start sucking weiner until the 80’s and save for his serenade of that British whore, his best work was behind him. It just wasn’t around, we had Jesus.. Something I know i’ll probably GET ARRESTED FOR SAYING.
Used to you could walk safely down the street without seeing two women holding hands, a bearded man in a dress or a Puerto Rican – but in the current state of Political correctness we live in it seems like we have traded our backbone in for a strap-on! Political correctness is what this all boils down to. I can’t go to my beloved Target anymore because a group of queer loving, participation trophy getting, complicated coffee ordering millennial fucks have decided to bend over backwards to make sure they don’t offend anyone.. It’s disgusting! Back in my day we were too busy making America great to give a shit about the rights of people who, let’s face it, hold us back in the pursuit of capitalism. Like people with polio… hell, if their parents had not conceived them at at a fondue/key party, maybe the lord wouldn’t have stricken their legs with the cripple.
I guess what I’m saying is that I’m going to miss having a place that I could gather amongst fellow like minded folk. People who understand that Jimmy Carter belongs in hell and that gluten free pasta was planted here by satan to convert our teenagers into faggots. I miss my Target. I miss my America.”
Ok yall, In my Aunt Tammy’s defense, Target used to be a lot different. If you had grown up going to the Target she went to you may feel a little bit differently about things, you don’t know. It’s a generational thing.
(^^^And that’s the same logic we use to defend our grandparents calling Obama the N- Word^^^)
Have a good Sundy, Yall!
I digress. My point is: guys honestly I don’t know much about Target. BUT I did marry a just exquisitely white woman:
Seriously y’all, I cannot express to you how white she is. I’m not making this up: far and away the biggest fight I have ever seen her and her sister have was over Kroger Fuel Points. That is the most White Woman thing that ever White Womaned. And I know that she does love Target; so…that’s about all I got.
But I also do know more than a few Aunt Tammies (read: shitty white women), and I know they have got to be just devastated right now. I can imagine them at their weekly Shitty White Woman meeting, where they gather to drink boxed wine and talk about whatever Nancy Grace is ruining at the moment (I assume). Then this comes up.
Sandra: Well I mean…let’s not get rash Brandi. They did just get a new Starbucks in there.
Hey y’all. Welcome back to Sundy Best, where three idiot southern comedians answer silly questions about serious subjects. Hopefully you read and enjoyed last week’s post about the way elections SHOULD be decided. How good was that, are we right? So good. So unnecessary. So dumb.
But hell, everybody needs some live entertainment right? So we put our fat stupid heads together (not really we just all thought about it individually), to try and decide:
What Springsteen-Replacement Concert Does North Carolina Deserve?
Telling a dude with titties which bathroom to use is a pretty bold command coming from a state who’s residents primarily piss in Mountain Dew bottles while driving drunk to the feed store. This is also a state where a marriage can technically be voided if either of the two persons is physically impotent – so I’d say some of these fat shit senators with blood pressure issues better tread lightly on trying to uphold insane laws.
Some other notable laws from the state of North Carolina:
- If a man and a woman who aren’t married go to a hotel/motel and register themselves as married then, according to state law, they are legally married.
- All couples staying overnight in a hotel must have a room with double beds that are at least two feet apart.
- Bingo games may not last over 5 hours unless it is held at a fair.
- While having sex, you must stay in the missionary position and have the shades pulled.
- Elephants may not be used to plow cotton fields
- It is illegal to have sex in a churchyard.
- Women must have their bodies covered by at least 16 yards of cloth at all times.
- Oral sex is considered a crime against nature.
So enforce the “Bathroom Law” if you must, but please remember that if you do so, don’t get a blow job while riding an elephant in the churchyard – because you’re a hypocrite if you do.
This state, along with many (read: all) states in the south seem to be doing everything they can to make sure that their children grow up in the same type of atmosphere that they themselves grew up in. They herald the 1950’s as the golden age of Americana. Back when there was hope – when anything was possible and the American dream was alive and well.. You know, so long as you you were straight, white, and a man.
Look I get it – these people are scared. They are scared of anything that is different than them: Gays, transgenders, blacks, people with the capacity for abstract thought. I get it – different is scary. Remember the first time you had Vegetable soup that someone other than your meemaw made? I do. It was scary. “How do you know you don’t like it until you’ve tried it?” I just do.. It aint meemaws. It’s gross. “Canned Tomatoes are just as good!” No the hell they ain’t.. That’s not natural.
Here’s the deal though… just cause you don’t understand something, that doesn’t make it wrong – which is a good thing because I’m pretty sure North Carolina needs Math and Science.
Considering this state is doing everything it can to remain firmly rooted in 1950’s culture, the concert they most assuredly deserve is Buddy Holly. But not like, Buddy Holly in his prime (because he hits way too hard and they don’t deserve that) – I mean a modern day dug up Buddy Holly skeleton on strings being paraded on a gooseneck trailer stage by a puppeteer in black face. “Wap bap a loo bop a wop bam boo” The people will exclaim while eating their funnel cakes and screaming about how black folks have it fine because slavery isnt a thing any more.
Listen, white folks… I get it – it sucks to have your dominance compromised.. I know – I’m one of you, but youre gonna have to understand that every now and then, some dude is gonna come along with some titties and want to take a piss next to your wife… and heres the thing… if Bubba Beth wanted to fuck your wife, she wouldnt have had to sneak into the womens room to do it… she could just listen to her like you never do
On the one hand, many of the good people of NC deserve to see Bruce Springsteen. Of course I support his decision as an artist and cog in this capitalistic death machine we call a society to cancel, but we also gotta recognize that ironically, some of the very folk who are hurt by this law are now also being deprived of seeing a kick ass show. Imagine, worrying about not only how you’re gonna execute your bathroom break during a concert with literally no bad songs (I would go during “I’m on fire.” It is always awkward to make eye contact with anyone during that song because of the creepy opening line, so hearing it alone in a stall is probably for the best), but also about having to deal with a law that makes it impossible to go with any dignity. That is tough enough, but then learning you can’t even go in the first place because the Boss fired your state? Not a good day.
Plus, if you’ve ever been to a concert, you know there is no such thing as bathroom laws. Women are gonna burst into the men’s room, scream “I can’t hold it” and take the next available stall anyway. Ugly girls NEVER pull this move, and when the hot girl does it every single dude who is for this BS law grins like something is about to happen other than a loud drunk woman peeing behind a door. But I, like our society, digress.
So a part of me wants to say NC deserves to keep the Boss. However, the lawmakers of NC need to be taught a lesson. The voters apparently in favor of this law do not have to accept reality, but Bruce Springsteen has the right to tell them he does not accept them.
Maybe they deserve bad music as a punishment. This makes sense, right? The Boss tells you you’re wrong, and to punctuate the error we send Florida/Georgia Line to sonically rape you? Their music is the soundtrack to the Apocalypse – something many of this bill’s supporters keep clamoring for – sure seems like justice to me. The obvious problem is that these people actually like FL/GA line. I know. It is a fact somehow dumber than this bill, so that won’t work at all.
Then how could we teach them a lesson? I got it! Force NC senators to watch a band I KNOW they’d hate on principle. Something like a Muslim Punk band (a real thing) might work, or what about Vampire Weekend? If they hate all things that are gay, they’d have to hate Vampire Weekend – the gayest band of all time. Damnit! This won’t work, either. No one would learn anything. These types of people are pretty averse to learning actually (see: evolution, foreign policy, sexuality science, all things they do/say). In fact, we would just be punishing the band. Who would want to play a show for these NC politicians, other than the Nuge?
North Carolina doesn’t deserve the Boss, the people who are for this law actually enjoy shitty music, and most “lessons” wouldn’t be learned. In this moment then, North Carolina deserves NO music to replace Bruce Springsteen. I say we replace Bruce with the sound of silence. Not the Simon and Garfunkel sadness masterpiece, but literally nothing.
Now, I am not saying this ultimatum should last forever. I am simply advocating a 2 hour gap in place of the concert. A moment of silence to honor the death of bigotry. Then, at the end of the 2 hour hope vacuum, in the spirit of this question and in order to still call the event “a concert,” a man in his mid-forties will take the stage with a single guitar. He will have on a dress shirt from Marshall’s, a pair of cargo shorts, and crocs. His guitar, emblazoned with a Dave Mathews Band sticker, will be slightly out of tune as he hits a G chord and announces himself simply as “Dwayne from Durham.”
A cover song specialist from the local Applebee’s, Dwayne has been playing his guitar on nights and weekends for years. Dwayne has a knack for oldies and the distinction of being the only two-time winner of the Grand Vista Mexican Restaurant Semi-Annual Talent show. Dwayne will remind everyone that there is a tip jar and out of habit mention that Happy Hour goes all night on Tuesdays. He will then play exactly one song.
North Carolina will be treated to the most mediocre cover of “American Pie” ever rendered. Dwayne will hit most of the notes and only flub the lines once. He might even skip one verse and have to come back to it, but the performance won’t suffer overall. When he gets to “If the Bible tells you so” a chorus of clapping and hollering will rise up and fill the stadium, because these people do not understand irony. Not even a little. The cheers will rouse emotions Dwayne hasn’t felt in years. Inspired, he will absolutely nail the ending. The crescendo. The triumphant rise of breath after the dramatic whisper of the word “died.” As it eeks out of Dwayne’s barely open mouth and he raises one fist in the air, the crowd will collectively break the last little moment of silence and sing the chorus one last time.
“Singin, this’ll be the day that I…”
One last pause for democracy and decency.
This is issue one of SundyBest, where Trae and Drew answer silly questions about serious issues. Today we ask the question burning a deficit-sized hole in all voter’s minds: which candidate would win in an old fashioned knife fight.
Let’s get to it.
I hope these questions get harder because this ain’t even a debate for me. It’s Ted Cruz. Ted Cruz all day. A knife fight? And one of the options is a man who I’m reasonably certain has knife-murdered before? I mean look at the guy. Look at his eyes.
Them’s the eyes of a feller that’s skint one or two. Now I mean, granted, presumably the donors to Ted’s collection of face-lamps PROBABLY didn’t have a chance to fight back. I mean you gotta assume he went the chloroform-and-a-windowless-van route. So since we are specifically talking about a knife FIGHT here, there might be a little more room for debate, but I still feel comfortable with my choice.
Sund(a)y is the Lord’s Day. It is a day of rest. It is a day for fried chicken. And it is a day to put on your Sundy Best.
Hello and welcome to our new blog. Here you will find weekly posts from your fearless heroes Corey Drew and Trae (pictured, duh). At SundyBest, we set out to answer silly questions about serious isshas. SundyBest – our dumb takes on smart things.
Each week we will take a topic in the news, in the cultural lexicon, or just kicking around in our messed up and hate-addled minds, and speak on it. However, rather than give you our nuanced dissertations on the inherent problems associated with, say, religion and politics in the Middle East (trust us they’re GREAT opinions), we will instead simply answer a ridiculous question on such a topic, like “which Israeli lake would be the best for water skiing naked.”
So check back next Sunday, for example, and you will get our individual takes not on who will win the Presidential election, but who among the candidates will win in a knife fight! Tune in, follow us, and get ready for our Sundy Best!