OurSundyBest Presidential Endorsements

OurSundyBest Presidential Endorsements

Drew here, Lord what a week we’re having. Trae been gettin so much love his head swole up ALMOST as big as Corey’s. We do appreciate all the outreach and suport y’all. Now, maybe we’re gettin a little high on the horse, but since yuns seem to like what we say, we figured we’d offer up some real opinions this week.
      Because endorsement season is here, that time of year where our fearless and dedicated political leaders line themselves up and make bold  pronouncements about how big of a whore they are – “I believe Trump is a strong leader!” Word? You didn’t seem to feel that way when you were certain he had no chance. “Hillary Clinton is the best person… wait I’m sorry I can’t read what you told me to say Madam President please don’t destroy me.”

America’s crow.

      It is political theatre of the absurd – buncha rich bastards pretending to be engaged in a national conversation about a buncha richer bastards who are pretending to give a damn (and in Ted Cruz’s case, pretending to be human).
      The slowly dying corpse of our nation’s press is also in on the action. Their endorsements used to genuinely carry some weight, but one needs to look no further than how many are endorsing John Kasich to realize their opinions matter less these days than my opinion on “Lemonade” (Beyonce’ is sincerely a transcendent talent, but I’m sorry, Jay-Z got paid millions through Tidal for cheating on his wife – that is some next level shit).
      That aside, we here at OurSundyBest, are, technically speaking, the press. Kinda. Look we write words, ok? So, we offer up our endorsements for President.




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.


Bowls are for lovers.

      Most importantly, we endorse Jimmy Dean for Breakfast President because he’s not afraid to speak the TRUTH. Unlike the other candidates, he tells you exactly how he feels about things. He speaks the truth about fruit and yogurt whether it’s  politically correct or not. He’s the only candidate willin to say what we’re ALL thinkin about hash browns: the darker ones are dangerous and can’t be trusted. Any honest hash brown will admit this and are also voting for Mr. Dean.
Let’s make breakfast great again.

      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!”


Your dad.

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!



      Hoo wee OSB may have to recuse ourselves from this un. I fear that I may care too much (it’s hard caring all the time guys). My endorsement may do more harm than good, because I doubt my passion will allow me to remain respectful enough to get my point across without making the other side appear sympathetic by coming off as some kind of self-righteous bully. But I will try. Verily I will try. Deep breath. OK…
     I want Florida-Georgia Line to die in a fire. God dammit! I just can’t help it. I can’t be level-headed when I talk about this shit. It upsets me on such a deep and personal level, it gets my Red just so very Up, that I just can’t help it. But seriously, do y’all know how much it upsets me that this bro-country bullshit is what the rest of America thinks “Country music” is? Because it isn’t. At all. That shit is pop music in pearl-button plaid and overpriced cowboy boots (all of which was picked out by a highly-paid record label stylist). It is NOT country music, and doesn’t represent my people.
      But I get why you think that, Rest of America. It makes sense. You hear it and think “Yep, that’s about right.” It’s the kind of macho, superficial bullshit you expect to hear rednecks hollerin about. Which is why it works. Florida-Georgia Line, Jason Aldean, Luke Bryan, and that goddamn motherfucking piece of shit Sam Hunt, all the worst of the worst, they know exactly what they’re doing.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

      They’re pandering. Singin bout being an “outlaw” and takin a “purdy girl with the jeans on” down a “dirt road” to drink some “cold cold beer” and “buttfuck” (this last part is implied). And the crowds eat it up. These guys get it! This is what it’s all about! The good life! Then the concert ends and they go back to their shitty lives and their shitty marriages and their shitty jobs, while the Dirt Road Boys head to Manhattan on their private jet, probably laughing their asses off at just how easy that was.
      But the South ain’t all like that, America. We wish you knew that. There are Arbiters of Truth out there like Hayes CarllChris StapletonAmerican Aquarium,Kacey Musgraves, and of course, the absolutely indomitable Jason Isbell. But there is one man, one man with the right combination of integrity, talent, and mass appeal, to shepherd us into a New Era. Which is why Our Sundy Best is officially endorsing Sturgill Simpson for President of Country Music.
     There are a million reasons I could give, pages I could write, on why he’s the man for the job. But instead, just buy and listen to his new album. It will convince you better than I ever could. Do the right thing. Vote Sturgill.
     You can’t have country music without booze. Hell it’s tough to have anything fun without booze.
      That being said, POB is not an office we take lightly here at OSB. The position is one of utmost importance and there are many, many qualified candidates. Sam Adams, with his patriot credentials and distinction as the founder of the microbrew movement in the US (not to mention his new Nitro series I’m partial to), would make a fine leader. Jack Daniel, of the the greatest state Tennessee (smile when you say it boy), is as solid as one can be. Captain Morgan’s military background is unmatched and unquestioned.  We shouldn’t underestimate how good the Silver Bullet can be when the mountains are blue. I also love what Chelsea Handler’s been doing for vodka and blonde alcoholics who can now get away with being terrible people by saying “I’ma hot mess” and smiling. The list is extensive.

Oh Captain, My Captain!

      All these great options reveal one of the great paradoxes of democracy: all that freedom of choice can end up being a crushing burden. You get so bogged down and afraid of messin up you end up settling for a “safe bet” candidate. Here at OSB we ain’t about to let that shit happen. You think we just gonna “get a case of whatever” because we are afraid of a little self-reflection and honest assessment? HELL NO. We make our choices loud and with conviction, by God. SKEW.
      For Presidents of Booze we pick Anthony Bourdain. This really isn’t even close when you look at his policies: drink with every dinner, have great conversation, see the world. Got damn. Yuh!
      Cut from the same cloth as Hemingway, Sinatra, or my late great Aunt Charla, he can hold his liquor and your attention. He will drink a frat boy under the table, discuss the richness of the color of a batch with one of Kentucky’s best distillers, and then match the perfect wine with your evening meal – whether it is beef burgundy or Totino’s pizza rolls. Anthony Bourdain is last great American drunk.
     Raise hell to the chief!
      Corey was gonna write this endorsement, but when he told me he couldn’t decide which of Tom Brady’s many presidential qualities to lead off with, I pulled out my knife, screamed “Peyton Manning for life” and blacked out. I don’t remember the next ten minutes but Corey’s recovering fine. Besides, he could stand to lose the weight. Fuck .Tom. Brady.
      Trae suggested we just endorse Junior in honor of his daddy, but the last time we let someone be President for that reason it didn’t turn out well.

“My Daddy says 8 years of this and I can retire!”

      We would just go with Earnhardt, Sr., but we ain’t sure a dead person can be President, plus it seemed like an insult to make a man who is obviously a King hold a lesser office. After that, we had to have a moment of silence. Then we cursed Roger Goodell for the coward he is and got drunk.
      Now we realize sports are just too personal and too important a topic to include in a comedy blog. Politics and religion are fine to discuss, but sports just make everyone too upset. Everyone endorse your own Sports President and please respect each other’s views.
      Alright so after the comments and messages I have received on social media over the past couple weeks I consider myself one of the world’s foremost leading experts on Stupidity. I could write a dissertation on dumbasses, and my supporting material would be longer than the damn paper.

Fan mail’s the best. 

      But look this is a hard ass category. How do you choose who to endorse for President of Stupidity in Today’s America? There are just so many choices. Just. So. Many. So I’m going to be totally honest here and tell you guys straight up that I am going to make an endorsement that best serves my own self-interests. A homer pick, if you will. Which is why I am officially endorsing Tennessee Governor Bill Haslam for President of Stupidity.

Look at his dumbfuck face. What a dumb fuck.

      This dude wants to bring back the electric chair, and his brother drafted Johnny Manziel because a hobo told him to (his family bought the Cleveland Browns with money they stole from truck drivers). So yeah, fuck Bill Haslam. But he’s the perfect candidate for President of Stupidity. Because in my opinion you got to be a pretty big dumbass to look out at the sea of terriblePR states like North Carolina and Mississippi are getting for their draconian anti-LGBT laws, weigh that against the support of mouthbreathing fucksticks like this, and think to yourself “Yeah. Yeah I wanna get me some of that.” Which is apparently what Haslam did before he signed a new bill into law allowing therapists to turn away gay people based on their religious beliefs. Haslam is the perfect candidate for President of Stupidity, because he is demonstrably interested in representing the dumbest, shittiest, most backward ass people in this entire country, at any cost. And he’s doing a good job of it so far.
      I got more to say about Haslam, but I’ma be a dick about it and ask that you subscribe to my YouTube channel and watch for my next video, on this very subject, coming this week. Thank y’all. Fuck Bill Haslam.
       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.


Orange you glad I’ll be politically irrelevant soon?

 Ladies and Gentleman, OSB is proud to give our endorsement: literally ANYONE BUT GD DONALD TRUMP. Please. 
What Will Your Aunt Tammy Miss the Most About Target?

What Will Your Aunt Tammy Miss the Most About Target?

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.

That video has led to a lot of damn ripple effects on my life, one of which was that it has increased traffic to our blog here literally tenfold. I know I speak on behalf of the other two idiots when I say how much we appreciate you all reading and sharing and commenting on the two previous entries. Corey, the bald un, is the moderator of the blog and thus has seen every single comment posted, and just for the record, he hasn’t removed any of them. So the comments you see are the ones we’ve gotten and people have been 99% positive. We’re all three extremely overwhelmed with the support so far and just know…we fuckin love y’all, seriously. Thank you for reading/commenting/sharing this silly ass thing.


If you’re new here, the concept of the blog is that three southern comedians answer silly questions related to serious subjects. Last week we covered What replacement concert North Carolina deserved after Springsteen backed out due to their state government being made out of buttholes. This week we turn our attention to yet ANOTHER response to all the hubbub surrounding transgender bathrooms, this time from the other side: people are boycotting Target for supporting the transgender community. Because never underestimate the ability of people to be the worst. Now…the three of us are white, and every white person knows or is related to at least one just awful even whiter woman who is all about some Target.

This they queen

Now we’re not saying that all white women who be about some Target are awful. We’re saying that all white women, awful or not, be about some god damn Target. And a lot of them are horrible. For the purposes of this post, we’re gonna call this hypothetical shitty white Target shopper “Aunt Tammy”. And we got to thinking about how hard this must be on Aunt Tammy, having to choose between her two favorite things: 1) shopping at Target, and 2) being a hateful bitch. So we got to thinking:
What is Aunt Tammy Gonna Miss the Most About Shopping at Target

DREW (@averagedrew):

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.”


How the other half lives, apparently.

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.”

“Yes sir.”


“They think we care about them!”

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.

COREY (@coreyfcomedy):

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?”


Having trouble catching the eye of that serial killer across the hall? Have we got a product for you!

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.


He just went out for cigarettes! Any day now!

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!

TRAE (@traecrowder):
Alright I’m about to contradict something I said in the intro, just immediately….I ain’t got no Aunt Tammy. My aunts don’t shop at Target; are you shittin me? Can you use a food stamp card for Oxys at Target? Naw? Then yeah, my aunts ain’t hollerin at it.
Alright so that ain’t entirely fair, most of my aunts are really sweet and awesome (some of em, however, trade food stamps for Oxys. Just for the record.), but they still don’t shop at Target. Y’all my hometown ain’t even got a damn Wal-Mart, let alone a Target. It was literally front page news when we got a Subway sandwich shop in town. If we got a Wal-Mart there would be a god damn parade. Hell they prolly wouldn’t even want a Target…that’s uppity Yankee shit there. Fuckin Target thankin they bettern us; THEY AIN’T BETTERN US!

I digress. My point is: guys honestly I don’t know much about Target. BUT I did marry a just exquisitely white woman:


It’s probably Cinco De Mayo here. She’s white, guys.

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: So did you hear about Target? They’re just going to let men use whatever bathrooms they want now, just because they feel like it.
Brandi: Outrageous. I can’t believe they expect me to let my nanny take my child into the bathroom with a man.
Sandra: I know! It’s a public restroom! Ya know, those…people…if they want to use the bathroom they should just the family restroom, where no one else will have to be in there with them!
Brandi: I know! I mean it’s not like we can go into the family restroom with our kids, there’s no stalls in there!
Sandra: Ridiculous!
Brandi: Ya know people are calling for a boycott!
Sandra: Well I mean…let’s not get rash Brandi. They did just get a new Starbucks in there.
Brandi: Right. But still….disgusting.
Sandra: Completely. (Finishes 6th glass of wine/continues to ignore the ever-deepening call of the abyss)

Yeah this all checks out.

Look, what I’m saying is…I’ll be stunned if any significant number of people who actually shop at Target really do stop shopping at Target over this. Oh, they’ll pretend to; they’ll post a picture of them with their “little one” outside of Target, with a long-winded rant beginning with “As a mother…” about how they just don’t feel safe with their child in this world anymore (which by the way, as a father: shut the fuck up).  But they won’t be able to stay away from that Dollar Spot for long buddy (I hope that makes sense; my wife told me it’s a thing.)


But, if Hypothetical Aunt Tammy actually DOES boycott Target, what do I think she’ll miss the most? Ultimately…nothing. Because once that bitch realizes how judgmental and superior she can feel around the people inside of Wal-Mart, she won’t miss it a bit. In all seriousness though, for people like this, there’s always another casserole dish on sale somewhere, always another baby registry at a Bed, Bath and Beyond for yet another baby Tristan, and there’s certainly always another thing that doesn’t effect them in any tangible way whatsoever for them to be “outraged” about. So unfortunately I think Tammy will be just fine.


For now.




What Springsteen-Replacement Concert Does North Carolina Deserve?

What Springsteen-Replacement Concert Does North Carolina Deserve?


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.

Anyway, this week we turn to one of the least sense-makin places in this country, North Carolina. This state is a leader in technology, education and innovation thanks to the Research Triangle, and also is home to Asheville, which is like if Portland got drunk on moonshine. And yet, recently their governor signed a controversial bill which restricts the use of restrooms according to a person’s genitalia as opposed to their gender identity. Not particularly cool North Carolina. One of the many responses to this law being passed came from none other than The Boss himself, Bruce Motherfucking Springsteen, who made news by cancelling a show in Greensboro as a sign of protest. Boss doin Boss Things.

Just look at that freedom-hatin Commie.

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.


The Arrogance of Man

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



Alright I’ma be honest and say off top I feel for some of them fellers what was gonna go to that show. I mean I still live in the South and I love the Boss and also people of all colors and wiener-situations, so I’d hate to be punished for the dumbshit notions of my dumbshit government (and my state knows a thing or two about dumbshit government).


Having said that, I still commend Springsteen for what he done, and I’d like to think I’d be cool with it if I had a ticket. Also a side note: Springsteen made national headlines and sent a profound message literally by cancelling plans. You know how awesome that would be?! I’d love to be big enough to be able to make a statement by NOT doing something.  Y’all have any idea how much I love not doin shit? “Not doin shit” is right up there with “disappointin the ol lady” and “takin it too far with cheese” on my list of Things What Doth Hit For Me. I wish that the Klan or Westboro Baptist held marathons so I could take a serious moral stand by NOT jogging forever, or somethin like that. But it always works the opposite. Sending a message takes just, just SO much effort. That sucks. Why can’t we have a Sloth Together For Bone Cancer Awareness Day? I mean I bet it would work: “Where the hell is everybody?” “Oh everyone stayed home watching Netflix today to raise awareness for bone cancer.” “That’s a thing?” “Yup.”…..Bam, that person’s aware now. Aware as shit. I’m just sayin: somebody should look into that. Not me though, obviously.

I’m busy.

So anyway, now that the Boss is out, I’m sure there’s plenty of acts that would still be down to play for these backerds baccer folk (“backerds” is Redass for “backward” and “baccer” is Redass for “tobacco”, if yuns ain’t know), so surely we can think of something. Also “Backerds Baccer Folk” ain’t a bad band name for a NC string outfit, now that I think of it.


So in thinking about this I’m focusing on those North Carolinians that support this law; as the ones who oppose it are people after me own heart and butt. But the Boss is universal, as evidenced by the the number of horrible assholes who have used his music. That’s just how great he is: even people that hate literally everything he stands for still love him cause the sumbitch simply rocks just that hard. So it stands to reason there were plenty of people with tickets to that show who were hateful dicks who hate dicks, especially if said dicks are on chicks. This replacement show is for them.


Part of me (the idealistic, dumb part) wants to hook these guys up. Schedule a show of some of North Carolina’s finest musicians, in the hope that the music would be so good it would change their simple lives, open their math-hatin minds, and warm their blackened, butter-lined hearts.  But then I remember that Hope is a Lie and Only the Darkness is Real (TM), so this plan won’t work. I mean the type of people we’re talking about here would probably not come to a show featuring acts like Ryan Adams, Old Crow Medicine Show, and American Aquarium, on account of “‘at sounds queer and sides they’s a Swamp People marathon on tonight”.


So we need a better plan. And it’ll be more fun anyway. This is what we do. We book the Bro Country Show to end all Bro Country Shows. I’m talkin Aldean. I’m talkin Florida Georgia Line. Sam Hunt. The bloated carcass of Toby Keith, probably. We’ll call it the Dirt Road Truckfuck Tour. First show: Greensboro, NC. Tickets will sell out like THAT, son. Packed house. Bud Light ballcaps as far as the eye can see. If this hypothetical crowd was a tattoo it’d be Calvin pissin on the concept of a mutually respectful marriage. Yeah, these are our targets.



God dammit.

Even though drunk-and-annoyed the default state of the breed, we’ll make the show start a little late, to give everybody a shot to get drunker and annoyeder. Then the lights go down and the volleyball scene from Top Gun plays with absolutely zero context or explanation. Then there is an announcement over the PA system that the scheduled festival opener, Eric Church, is running late because his stylist got hit by a bus and he refuses to go on without someone perfecting his look first (a stance any outlaw can understand obviously). At this point the mood in the crowd is just the right amount of confused and wary, and we make an announcement that a very special guest, Outlaw Country Up-and-Comer Wheeler Walker, Jr., will be filling in for Mr. Church. Wheeler comes out and gives an absolutely virtuosic rendition of his landmark shitkicker “Which One O’ You Queers Gonna Suck My Dick”, all while The Singing Asshole from Pink Flamingos  (if you don’t know what that is, Google it. Or not. But just know it’s exactly what it sounds like) lays on the stage by Wheeler, expanding and contracting his anus in time to the music. The anus is shown on the jumbotron.


And that’s it. That’s the whole show. You’re welcome, North Carolina.




This isn’t an easy one.

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.


Trannies are the problem, tho.

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?


We feel the need to remind everyone that this motherfucker is a Yankee.

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.


Which Presidential Candidate Would Win In a Knife Fight?

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.

I mean it’s not like the competition is particularly stout. Bernie Sanders, Jew God love him, is a god damn muppet. Muppets don’t stab. He’s probably never held a knife in all his days; including kitchen knives, cause I’m pretty sure that sumbitch only eats soup.
Tell me that ain’t a soup-eatin motherfucker
Plus I’m sure Bernie is very anti-violence, considering he has PTSD from witnessing the murder of the American middle class. 
Then there’s Trump. Zero chance. None. Less than none. I mean given that he can’t hire someone to do it for him, which is one of our rules. I’m sure Orange Hitler has tremendous knives, all the best knives. I’m sure he probably sold his own shitty knives to go with his shitty steaks that no one bought. But that doesn’t change the fact that I am 100% certain that Donald Trump couldn’t win any kind of physical fight. He’s the type to talk mad shit to you but then act like you’re somecaveman when you ask him to take it outside. Plus I mean how’s he even going to hold a knife with those stupid tiny baby hands?
To me the only competition here would be Hillary, and only because getting stabbed to death would probably cost her the White House (though I’d vote for her corpse over Donald Carny-Hands) and I feel like she’s made it pretty clear that FUCKING NOTHING will keep her from that house.  I think she’d probably strap a bomb to BB-8 and send his ass rolling into St. Judes if it would clinch the race for her. That damn woman is GETTIN HERS, is what I’m saying.
But as any Buffalo Bills fan can tell you, “wanting it more” don’t mean SHIT when Tom Brady is on the other side of the field, and Ted Cruz is the Tom Brady of “Buffalo Bill”s (i.e. knife-murderers). As far as I’m concerned anyway. Actually I don’t know, I guess you could argue that OJ Simpson is the Tom Brady of both “Buffalo Bill”s and THE Buffalo Bills. But I digress. Ted Cruz murders, is my point. I mean think about it: he thinks he was sent here by God to rule us,his family is terrified of him, he is powered entirely by hatred, and guys again, I really cannot stress this enough, his face. Good lord his face. I mean what’s the over/under on how many bags of cats this guy has drowned? Gotta be double digits.
So yeah. Drew makes an admirable case, and I would gladly take one of the other candidates in many other types of contests. But we’re not talking about who could garble the most sanctimony (Sanders), misuse the most “hip” slang words (Hillary), or inspire the most Hateful Boners (tossup between Hillary and Trump), we’re talkin about knife murderin, and when it comes to knife-murderin, give me Ted Cruz every damn time.
Knife fights are like political caucuses – no one knows exactly how they work and Bernie Sanders wins them every time. Every damn time. There is no other possible outcome. Bernie will win.
First of all let’s state the obvious: Bernie is an old ass Jew and Jews avoid death the way Beck avoids talking about Scientology. Jews eat all types of different breads, make good comedy movies, and they fucking won’t die. They’ve been alive longer than the mold in my Mammaw’s basement.
For proof, just take a look at the Bible. It’s an old ass book with a lot of different peoples in it. Only one of those peoples is still alive and kickin. And it ain’t the Corinthians. Are any Hittites still around, telling you you look tired and should rest more at a work function? No. Is anyone walking around Brooklyn in robes asking people if they are Philistines? Nope. Only Jews are doing these things. The Canaanites – dead. The Galatians – dead as the Dead Sea. The Thesolonians – ThesoDEADians. Hell even the Romans had to change their name.
Then of course there’s that whole Holocaust thing. And look, I don’t wanna be flip about one of the largest and most recent attempted genocides known to man. But you can’t ignore that word “attempted.” The Holocaust was terrible and sad and infuriating, but it also stands as a testament to the fact that Jews, as a people, like fucking being alive more than Donald Trump likes himself. And he likes himself a lot.
Bernie is gonna win this fight. His people been surviving knife fights since forever ago – Gypsy knife fights, Roman sword fights, German atrocities- get at them bro. Bernie is ready. He is prepared. He is kosher.
Now, let’s explore his opponents. Have you ever seen a sadder group of white people who weren’t related to each other? Yes I know Cruz is Latino, and I don’t want to sully any connection he feels to any brown community, but Ted Cruz’s name is fucking Ted. He’s white. And he’s awful.
They’re all awful. These three look like a three heads of the apocalypse cover band. They know all the hits, but lack soul. The end is nigh, but no one gives a damn. Bernie will dispatch each of them, with prejudice.
Hillary Clinton couldn’t beat Bernie in a drag contest, much less a knife fight. First of all, she looks like a teletubby. Just look at her big stupid huge head. She a teletubby.
Now, Teletubbies hit. My niece loves them. Might make a decent president.  But they can’t fight with knives. Naw. She’s too round and her face too big a target. Bernie will have her eyes cut out faster than she can delete an email.
If Hillary could knife fight she wouldn’t even be in this race. She’d be in prison for murderin Monica Lewinski. Now before you say “she’s too classy” or “she didn’t care about that,” remember, she’s from Arkansas. When you take a ride on an Arkansas woman’s man, she gonna cut you if she can. That’s a actually country song I think.  Hillary either can’t work a knife, or don’t have fight in her. Them’s just facts. Bernie cuts her up uglier than when whoever cut up her hair.
With his loose dress shirt billowing in the wind, Bernie absorbs Hillary’s  blows into the Oxford shirt from the 1986 Sear’s catalogue. Try as she may Hillary never catches meat (Let us pause  here and celebrate that sentence). Bernie’s counters land deftly.
As Hil retreats, her shoes tangle in her pantsuit legs. This particular ensemble was cut to hang just above the ground with a 3 inch heel, but Hillary opted for a much more practical 1 inch knife fight appropriate shoe. Unfortunately, she didn’t retailor the suit and she trips on the extra inches.
Bernie stands over her as she bleeds and struggles. His knife to her neck, he stops short of ending her. She begs for mercy, and to be vice president. “You may live,” he says, “but you shall never lead.” In the distance a bell begins to toll. A black crow lands on a dead tree’s branch and stares into the fray. “Cawwwwww.”
Hillary screams wildly and with one swift move, uses her knife to take her own life.
“She died as she lived,” the people will say. “Like a man.”
Donald Trump is next to be dispatched. Trump likes to brag about what he’s good at (everything), and what all he’s done (all there is to do). But if we break down his actual accomplishments and contributions to the world, he’s really only ever done one thing well: negotiate. From money to buildings to swaths of Russian pussy, the man has talked a lot of things that shouldn’t have happened into happening. It’s truly and genuinely impressive.
But. You can’t negotiate a knife wound.
The Donald: I hear what you’re saying Mr. Knife but have you considered…
Knife: *cuts his stupid face
The Donald: I seem to be bleeding. Julie get my Rolodex. Let me see if I know anyone who knows this blood. Maybe I can talk it out of leaving my…
Knife: * keeps cutting him. Blood keeps flowing
The Donald: you drive a hard bargain Mr. Knife. Tell you what. Why don’t we…
Knife: *literally cuts his tongue out
The Donald: *murmuring
Knife: *stabs throat until Donald’s lifeless corpse is drained of all blood. It lies listless in the pale sunlight, his skin is orange and serene. His hair piece stands up, looks around, and slinks off into the ether. Did it even exist?
Bernie burns the Donald’s clothes and feeds his body to the poor. They rejoice and tear the orange flesh from the frail bones, singing church hymns while a marching band plays “Flight of the Bumble Bee.”
Now that Big Bad Bernie has dispatched those shitty, weak, front running foes, there is only one enemy remaining: Ted Cruz.
Ted Cruz actually scares me. Both in terms of potentially winning this fictional knife fight, and also just generally in that he exists in reality and probably has access to knives: he is a terrifying man.
You know he knows how to use a knife – he clearly used one years ago when he killed the real Ted Cruz, cut his skin off so he could wear it as suit over his demon body, and carried on as if nothing happened.
Real quick I need to take a moment to say that I’m not kidding. Ted Cruz is literally a demon.  His real name is Glorathicka. He is an ancient hell demon from the unholy eternal realm of Balthazord, banished to Earth in the 1750s for inventing cigarettes. His King, Gerlock, who loved cigarettes, took pity on him and opted not to destroy him when his bride the Queen Slytheria died of lung cancer. Gerlock banished Glorathicka to earth as a compromise.
Glorathicka Ted Cruz is a formidable opponent for Bernie. First of all he knows a lot about knives. In the 80s he dated two circus performers at the same time who taught him a lot about switchblades. One of them died of hepatitis C, the other, a broken heart. Secondly, demons are eternal. It’s an uphill battle.
He will injure Bernie. Oh, there will be blood. But Bernie won’t have a problem getting his licks in either, though. The problem is, in order to return demon Ted Cruz Glorathicka to whence he came, you have to land a blow directly into his heart. But no one has ever known where it is.
That is, until now.
Battle III
Bernie starts by striking demon Glorathicka Terd Cruz multiple times in the torso. Green blood and the screams of Virgins leak from the wounds. But the beast seems unfazed. He almost thrives on the pain.
He counters our hero. Catching him with various slashes right to left, left to right with his crucifix knife. The demon cares nothing for the knife’s symbolism, but his fans – hordes of fat mouth breathing piles of flesh in business suits – seem to love it. Their cheers ring out like a war cry, rallying the demon onward.
Bernie is injured badly. His blade and his fear hang heavy. How do you destroy that which thrives on your attacks? How can he expel the demon by piercing his heart when Ted Cruz Glorathicka clearly doesn’t have one?
Enter one Micheal. Aka big mike. Aka killer Mike aka one half of the jewelses. See, killer Mike has Bernies back- it is written.
He also knows a bit about demonology. Just when it looks like Bernie is really falling back in the fight and bloodied up, Mike appears in the corner and busts an encouraging rhyme with the secret weakness hidden in the lyrics:
Pushed up on a demon fightin
Bernie trying Bernie knifing
I ain’t scared bitch
Ain’t got no time for crying
Get to cuttin or get to dyin
You Gotta find the heart of a man
Gotta get to a heart if you can
The way to slay any demon man
Is to crush this fool like he’s the last known last foe
Plant dagger with swagger into that assholes big toe
Boom. At this signal, Bernie will jam his righteous blade of Joshua into the right big toe of Glorathicka, with accuracy and cunning.
The demons heart is pierced  and the demon is destroyed. His body will disintegrate as he faded into nothingness.
Bernie, sweating swearing and bleeding falls to his knees and curses a God he doesn’t believe in.
The Sun sinks in the west. An eagle cries victory in the distance and the Untold hordes of the masses join and sing in unison Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run,” because “Born In the USA” was too easy and Ted Cruz was born in fucking Canada.
Honorary knife fight referee Antonin Scalia’s corpse lifts Bernie’s bloodied right hand into the air and declares the jaded Jew the victor. We are all saved.


Welcome to SundyBest


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!

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