Brown and Wooden


by bernquist

It’s Eldon Blaxdell, professional hockey puck and sneer baron. Many decades ago there wasn’t a high demand for the services of a piece of puck meat like Eldon but the times they have changed.

Eldon lives in Snake, New Mexico. The Municipality of Snake is known for very little other than being the birthplace of Woodrow Wilson and four stroke engines. Legend has it young Woodrow also discovered fire here as a lad in the 19th century with the help of a rusty thermometer and a diabetic mule deer.

Eldon the hockey puck sneerman had always been fond of old Woodrow and enjoyed the folklore, the mystery, and wonder surrounding Woodrow’s youth and the nonexistent history and heritage of his hometown.

It was late in the off-season one year sometime and Woodrow had spent a great many months laying in the desert waiting to be shipped to somewhere with ice and hit with sticks. But it was during this time that he had discovered and read in its entirety “The Wealth of Bacons” by laureate pig man and author Adam Swinith.

Wealth of Bacons was a tragic tale of two pieces of crispy hog meat (brothers if you will) whom after sharing a common upbringing were separated from each other not only by diverging interests but also by the slaughter of their host pig.

One of the bacons ended up in a Kroger in Shreveport, while another was branded “potentially free range” and shipped to a Whole Foods in Diamgelo, California. It was from this Whole Foods that bacon number two was able to craft an empire in telemarketing for used vacuum cleaners. He also became exceedingly socialist.

The other bacon kept to himself and was eventually eaten by a fat guy.

Eldon thought this was a good book.

Because he was a hockey puck with a proclivity for a stage 7 sneer.

He would come to ponder the bacons in tremendous depth during the upcoming hockey campaign and these musings would alter his existence permanently in seasons to come.

The Psychology of Investing

by bernquist

Feldin Hordis here for Hordis Investments Ltd.! Do you have sadness? Have you ever experienced joy, extreme pain, depression, general melancholy, elation, nothingness, or mild discomfort?

If the answer is yes then you will undoubtedly understand the proposition that I am now to propose!

Hordis Investments specializes in funding human sensations! This month for example, there’s a bull market for undeniable anguish and we are throwing big money down on hopelessness remaining on the rise! Despair futures were up 15 percent as of two seconds ago so we’re hoping that everyone keeps on being depressed so we can pile on that wealth!

We dabble in international markets as well! In Germany, the absence of emotion has been trending for decades and we have taken advantage, riding a twenty year streak of 10 percent blandedness all the way to the bank!

Rage? They’ve got that in Palestine! And we’re buying it! Every last ounce!! Yes, as long as there’s predictable indignation we swoop in and pay for it to continue and reap the profits with a reaping cape!

Angst is a good one and lots of people have that, so we sponsor it!!

Do you hate everything? Well then by gum here’s a $100k subscription!!! But don’t start liking stuff because of your newfound riches because any fluctuation in your morosery could destroy our returns!!

I started this company in 196nickel fresh out of the Harbton Colby School of Business and Warthog and Pterodactyl Husbandry. After trying my hand at prehistoric bird breeding, I decided to move toward the business side of my schooling background. Turns out dead animals are difficult to encourage to do much and warthogs hate everyone.

I had a friend who suffered from general sadness.

So one day I said to myself, why don’t I just pay for this! And so I did! And as his sadness continued, the profits started pouring in, ultimately culminating in a 25 percent dividend cash-out when David eventually lit himself on fire with a rabid iguana!

After seeing the vast sums to be made in this sector, I started paying for other sadness ventures and eventually branched out into malaise and exuberance. I rake it in. And if you give me money you can too!!

Initial buy ins for most of our funds start at 2 million yen, but today and today only you can give us one cent!! Watch in amazement as that one cent becomes a titanic brass fortune by financing the habits of a hopelessly deranged raw sewage enthusiast!

If you don’t want to bother with a time consuming and confusing money transfer, just send us your bank account info and we’ll take all your money for you!!! Trust me! You will become wealth by giving your wealth to us!!

Make haste and give forth that coinage today!!!!


by bernquist

Good morning friends! It’s me! Your all time favorite sedentary rat collector and espionage expert Rod Bucksnare!!

I have brought you thousands of scintillating products and without question you love and use each and every one of them most of the days of the week and you hate them all very very much!!

Would you like something new? Well you are in a flaming sapele sack of luck! Introducing the 58 megaton OAK CUBE with eraser and flashlight!!!

Dare I say the OAK CUBE is the finest product Bucksnare International has ever tossed into the insatiable marketplace of the wealthy and fat? Perhaps!

Here’s how the system works. Each OAK CUBE is non customized for individual buyers! That’s right! With the exception of variances in grain and hues of brownedness your OAK CUBE will be identical to the next!!

All OAK CUBES weigh 58 million megatons so our number one priority is to figure out methodologies to get you, the consumer, the nondescript OAK CUBE of your choice with relative speed and efficiency. Our latest idea is flying the cube to your door strapped to another planet!

Because of the OAK CUBE’S size, planets are the optimal method for quick and easy transport to your meager wooden house!

The transport process is truly extraordinary so pay attention! After an OAK CUBE is freshly minted in our Bucksnare International factories in Coeur d’Alene, we sit in a waiting area with chips and cheeses of all different varieties and humongous wooden couches and lounge chairs while sipping forth the world’s finest whiskey and awaiting your call!!

Once the phones eventually start ringing, a violently intoxicated representative will ask you which planet you would like your OAK CUBE delivered by. Most of our customers choose Jupiter!

And now the fun part!! The drunken idiot in our call center listens to your requests to the degree that he is capable and then stumbles out into the warehouse, grabs a couple lengths of cord, and gets to work strapping your impossibly ridiculous OAK CUBE to Jupiter with a series of poorly tied trucker’s hitches and wooden magnets!

Making Jupiter ambulate in a controlled direction is exceptionally difficult, but where there’s a bevy of nuclear warheads, there’s a way!! That’s right! Once your OAK CUBE is strapped down, we detonate 34,000 hydrogen bombs on the side of the planet opposite the side that faces your home, sending it on an apocalyptic path of destruction ultimately terminating in your back yard, and terminating all life as we know it!

Sound too good to be true?! Call now and see for yourself!! Order your OAK CUBE today so you can erase things and  look at stuff with a flashlight!!! And kill literally everyone!!! Don’t waste any more precious time!!! Order today!!!

Kayak Meat

by bernquist

This is the best part about eating a kayak. The paint. The wood. The paddle. The steak meats. Nothing really compares to a nice roasted kayak soufflé.

When I first started eating boats it was 19845 tin scrum and cream corn was on the rise. I naturally developed considerable contempt for cream corn. So boats it was.

I started with small personal watercraft. And that’s where I stayed as I continue to eat kayaks. Kayak meat is the best.

Many folks get their kayak meat at Sam’s Club. But I like to capture mine in the wild. I burry myself in sludge on the edges of bodies of water. Usually lakes or rivers or an ocean or a pond. Once I see a nice kayak I feast.

Sometimes I catch of them with a rope. Sometimes with a sword. Often I’ll dig a nice hole in the water out in front of it’s path where the blithering kayaker can’t see it. I’ll watch and behold as he paddles right into the hole.

I’ve sacrificed a lot to eat all these kayaks, including my job as an all pro cardboard file box. Filing was fun and it had its place in my life. But after I was filled with back taxes in 1983 I gave it up so I could store pants in an attic. That got old relatively quickly. So I began eating boats.

Sometimes I miss being a cardboard box. But usually not. If I hadn’t stopped I never would have learned how to dig holes in liquid. Which is a rare and profitable skill that I picked up from a Tibetan cargo yak on a trip to some place with mountains.

Cargo yaks are good at cargo stuff but as it turns out they’re even better at forging holes in water. But they’re terrible at everything else like driving and having thoughts.

One day I might stop eating kayaks. But I’ll probably never stop eating kayaks. The kayak meats fulfill me. They know me. They become me and by necessity I become them. I am the kayak. The kayak is me. And the guy who paddled into the hole knows the sum of human sadness.

Everyone is Mask

by bernquist

Jerondo Phontabin here for Hatred Network News and my lucky snake feathers do we have an exclusive tonight! I’m here in Belhaven, Montanank just outside of a town-hall meeting where the immense, brown, and undeniably obtuse city residents are discussing an astonishingly urgent and valueless issue!

All of the young people are becoming mask!! And they are becoming so with ardent fervor and inexorable apathy! Mask has been becoming something in small hot pockets across the nation over the past hot rolled steel 36 (see How to Tell Time).

Mask comes on quick and it comes on strong and fast and like a tornado and huge, usually taking the victim by surprise. A typical onset of mask will occur upon ingesting CRAFT brew, specifically IPA. The subject will take of the brew freely and without a care in the world except for an exceptionally lofty and ever lingering presence of depression and abject dejection.

Anyway as the CRAFT enters the system, the miserable wretch transforms. He becomes mask. And mask him. One can transform into mask at any time, and mask in turn can transform and become anything and everything always and at once. CRAFT does not have to be the instigator but it is the gateway mask drug.

One can very easily become mask with no choice in the matter. Mask knows and is. It takes and becomes at its inanimate will. People of Belhaven are alarmed as a mask epidemic has taken over the local high school, including the staff! Jerry Nolandoff, a nuclear physics and physical education instructor by day and diseased potato farmer by night became mask some time ago and has not been able to return to his prior state. We sat down with Jerry for copper22 last night:

“Didn’t take long for mask to envelop me. I had just finished teaching some idiot kids about how to make a warhead out of a bag of rubber bands. I drove home in my flaming tunic cart and decided I’d have just one CRAFT before I rustled out into the fields to tend to the potato harvest. All the potatoes are dead. Anyway, couple sips of the CRAFT and I was mask alright. I felt it wash over me like the regret I experience when I ponder my first marriage to an extinct northern white rhino. It became my soul. I knew that it was me. I meandered out into the darkness as mask to stomp on the dead potatoes with my poop tromping boots. Stomping on potatoes posthumously is never that fun but as mask it’s quite a thing. The more you stomp, the more the potatoes transform. And eventually they too become mask.”

Jerry cleared up very little about any of this for us and several times became incapacitated due to uncontrollable groveling. However, he was able to tell us that mask is gaining a sort of cult-like following amongst America’s youth.

The young people see mask as something to be cultivated and even revered. While those who are old and without dreams recognize mask for what it is, and what it is…is mask. I’m Jerondo Phontabin for Hatred Network News! Tune in tomorrow for our discussion of sedentary obese aardvarks! Useless animal or Bam Margera impersonator?! You be the judge!

The Best Food Product Ever

by bernquist

Greetings friends! It’s me Rod Bucksnare!! Who’s ready for another life altering product from Bucksnare International Limited?!

Everyone of course!! Bucksnare International Limited has brought you all of the most insanely useful and innovative innovations of the 21st century, including but by no means limited to: MinkMilk, the FIRE ELK, Bison Compactor Pro 4,000, the Wolverhouse, a dead camel, a box of toads, wolverine pajamas, some Valentine’s Day mantises, the Malt Liquor Cactus, and metal units of time!!

Of course there are thousands of others but who cares?!!

I don’t remember what this is about…Oh yeah! Sword Chips!

If you’re like most people a sack full of potato chips always leaves something to be desired upon completion. The chip user is often left feeling tired and hopeless as well as sick in addition to being depressed and having feelings of limited or zero value!

But now you can buy Sword Chips and your chips world will change for the…better?!

By all means, let me explain!

Sword Chips was invented by me in late April 2017 after countless minutes of research into what really makes a chip a chip.

After pouring through pages and pages of chip complaints on Reddit I reached an epiphany: What if a bag of chips could be combined with swords?!

I knew it was brilliant.

After 45 seconds of conversation with our many high profile investors, Bucksnare International Limited was able to procure 11 dollars in seed funding, and thus, the first bag of Sword Chips was born!

How do Sword Chips work?? It’s undeniably simple.

Buy the chips. Open the chips. Eat the swords!!

Sword chips are made of real metal which has been flavored in our laboratories with all the flavors you would expect from a Bucksnare product, including sriracha, almond praline, musk, sour cream and onion, BBQ, chaps, stained beach towel, cucumber algorithm, crocodile flakes, barbed wire, diesel, ranch, cheeseburger, elephant seal, orchid, tusk stump, molybdenum, nitrate, and falcon cheese.

Eating a metal sword that tastes like barbed wire is invigorating I tell you what!

When I eat Sword Chips I feel refreshed, like I could conquer the Ottomans with a rusty pelican!

I’ve noticed the positive effects of Sword Chips in every arena of my life.

Jamming my fat red face full of Sword Chips before a workout gives me the energy I need to get and stay yoked. Also, I love having the Sword Chips in the morning on my way to Bucksnare Headquarters because the magnesium fills me with boundless energy!

Users have complained about endless blood mouth with this product but that’s something we’re thinking about working on so don’t worry too much!

Some things you can do while eating Sword Chips: run marathons, fight a tiger, run for president, hit a golf ball 400 feet, flash fry a snake, set a manta ray on fire, eat a manta ray as a Sword Chip side, make a manta ray turn yellow, make him weep, capture Chase Blanchette the squirrel arsonist, blow up a Prius, calculate basic math problems, tusk stump, churn the eel butter, make the eel cheese, smoke crab henbane, exercise, throw darts, get exceptionally painful sriracha cuts to the mouth and face, and of course lay on the floor!

Now that you know how awesome Sword Chips are there’s no use in waiting! Get the Sword Chips today! Each bag is one and a half cents and can be purchased exclusively at the Pottery Barn! Go to the Pottery Barn immediately and get Sword Chips! It’s the cheapest thing they have!

Go now!!

Everything That Happened Today Was Bad As Well As Not Good And There Was Trash

by bernquist


Behold! Filth!

Today was an exceptionally brown day, and I mean that in the most negative of connotations.

This morning I thought to myself, “You are without purpose, so why not do something productive today and pretend that you’re not worthless for awhile!” Great idea!

So I took my car to have the oil changed. Because that’s the kind of action that can be positively life altering for someone with limited value and a conspicuous void of marketable skill. Turns out however that all that little jaunt down to Jiffy Lube caused was elevated despondence, immense hatred, and category 5 self loathing.

Oil pan gasket leak. Transmission pan gasket leak. Power steering fluid leak. Fifteen year old car syndrome. Automotive AIDS. Blood piston. Swiss cheese valves. Horse motor. Michael Moore wipers. Chainsaw face. Albacore exhaust. All the things you strive to attain in your primary mode of getting to and from your lucrative career in expense escalation and management.

As I pondered the many fortunes I would soon be forking out to fix my cadaver of a Honda, I decided that if I hurried home and constructed a huge heaping pot of coffee, everything would seem better for 8 to 10 seconds. I tried to make the coffee but it didn’t work.

I poured out the grounds from the morning and to my cataclysmic dismay, the plastic cup mechanism that the grounds live in exploded during the dumping phase. Naturally all the microscopic parts of said cup thing fell into the trashcan, which for some reason was absolutely stuffed with a generous allotment of rotted pork, egg shells, coffee remnants, horse feathers, and tarantula milk.

I scanned the surface of the rubble feverishly with the flashlight on my phone to see if the parts in question were sitting there just waiting to be plucked. But no. They had sunk into the depths. So I dove in. Bare hands. Sifting through the detritus with all the skill and real estate acumen of a feral hog.

Eventually, after fondling every last morsel of puke flavored rubbish, I was able to locate the crucial elements of my Mr. Coffee spaceship between a paper towel soaked in meat juice and a dead octopus.

So then I decided to do my taxes. And that was really fun. I got a refund of 11 cents. Then I lay around for awhile and watched Netflix like a fat guy who only wears pants for a change of scenery. Now I’m staring at the wall thinking about buying CRAFT.


This has been a day in the theoretical life of Aaron Bernquist. While not factual, everything that has been discussed in the preceding manuscript is something that may have happened. While there is no cure for destroyed Honda, it is recommended that all monetary measures be utterly exhausted before an actual solution is reached. Despair will be ample and joy will be absent. CRAFT should be consumed in moderation except for when it is consumed in excess. No CRABS were harmed in the formulation of this data. 

Surgis Plonton: Poster Boy of Modern Mediocrity

by bernquist

Surgis Plonton drove his 1999 Cadillac Seville down the commuter and horse-ridden freeway, not really paying attention to anything, but generally staring at the floor in disgust. It had been seven months since the car (which he had nicknamed Chevre) was cleaned, and Starbucks coffee cups and general squalor were the prominent flavors.

It wasn’t that Surgis particularly enjoyed coffee, but ever since he quit eating cigarettes it seemed like as fine an alternative as any. When he discovered that cigarette consumption had been tenuously linked to hamburger throat, cheese lung, and octopus mullet, he knew it was time to kick the habit.

Driving 20 miles to work every day was fun. Especially when Surgis knew the entire day would be spent packaging iguanas for international shipping. Iguanas aren’t born, but manufactured just outside of Hoboken, New Jersey which is near to where Surgis grew up and regrettably lived.

He hated iguanas.

But ever since graduating with a Bachelors Degree in Management in 2010, iguana packaging was the only job he had been able to procure.

The iguanas were poorly behaved. It was rare that Surgis was able to bubble wrap an iguana without receiving a series of mortal wounds. He had wanted to get in on the building phase at the iguana plant and had been promised a shot to do so when he started with Iguanas R Us. Six plus years later though, he was still packaging, and unfathomable apathy had all but eliminated any possibility of upward mobility.

He assumed he had no success because his bosses hated him, but really he was just useless.

Surgis exited the freeway and decided to stop a few blocks from home and rob a gas station. He parked his Seville in the handicapped space at ARCO and sprinted forth and took everything while threatening everyone with death and six foot long iguanas and so forth.

Firmly grasping his can of Pringles and a Maxim Hot 100, he calmly returned to his sleek Cadillac which much to his vehemently brown dismay had already been decorated with a $72 parking citation. It rapidly became apparent that it was time to drive home which is what he then did.

Surgis lived alone with several roommates.

There were six people total in his house, an early century Hoboken seven bedroom Victorian built in 1994. It had an eat in kitchen.

Surgis ran upstairs with his gas station fare and threw himself into his huge, brown, and unmistakably wooden recliner. He turned on ABC and watched some Jeopardy while he wondered why there had been horses on the freeway during his commute.

He had a pet swordfish named Gregory Peck. The swordfish tank was 11,000 gallons and his roommates often complained of being stabbed by young Gregory when they tried to go for a swim. Surgis knew they were just jealous that they didn’t have a giant katana face sea menace.

Surgis fed the beast some chip dust and went to sleep, which is when he had some nightmares about being brutally mauled by a behemoth lizard and then lit on fire by Joan Rivers. He awoke to find that it was time to go to work again. “Hurray,” he exclaimed.

The End




Make All Your Most Outrageous Dreams Into An Actual Reality With What Else? An ELK!

by bernquist

Top of the morning everyone! Rod Bucksnare here for the company I have which is named after my esteemed self, Bucksnakre International Limited!

You know we make something for everything and most of our products are at the very least wildly successful and absurdly costly!

Dare I say we’ve outdone ourselves this time?? Grasp forth a brace and take heed.

Have you ever wanted to set something (someone) on fire but didn’t have the necessary tools of ignition? Or have you ever found yourself on a blissful mid-summer camping trek in the Eastern Sierras or in the Sudan and suddenly exclaimed “Great Apollo’s mink! I’ve forgotten the lighter fluid!”?

Well now you never have to have thoughts or make exclamations again! Introducing FIRE ELK!!!

What is FIRE ELK? FIRE ELK is an ELK who sets everyone on fire at your and only your will!

Tired of endless meetings about how outstandingly your company performed in the prior fiscal quarter? Use the FIRE ELK to light your managing director ablaze! He’ll never talk about past performance again! And you’ll get the satisfaction of watching him heave his flaming wool trousers into the nearest toilet!

Hate thanksgiving dinner? Use FIRE ELK to torch the turkey! Everyone hates turkey anyway and they’ll hate it a lot more when it’s undeniably charred!!

Unless you’re a normal person you’re probably asking yourself currently how in the brown hell the FIRE ELK works.

It’s so unbelievably simple that it tends to confuse everyone to the point of screaming and tears!

Each ElK comes to you in six to eight years priority mail straight from our Bucksnare International Limited packaging facility in Buffalo, New York. Your ELK comes with a fingerprint scanner, an oak bag of exotic fruits and vegetables, and a 2×2 inch tiny instruction booklet.

Working the ELK is easy. Scan your finger so the ELK knows something is about to happen. Then find which fruit or vegetable corresponds in the handbook to the action you want to achieve.

Burn down the Christmas tree? You’ll find on page 16 that all you need to do is throw a rutabaga at your ELK’S rib cage and behold! Skeletor tree!

Want to explode the annoying intern’s chicken sandwich in the refrigerator? Throw a guava at your FIRE ELK’S stupid cloven and that insufferable intern will be eating at Chipotle from now until you stop bringing a 1200 pound flame ungulate to the office!!


Do not hesitate!! Get a FIRE ELK today for 68 trillion yen and discover the joys of the blaze at your fingertips!!

Send us all your wealth!!



by bernquist

Good afternoon CRABS! We don’t write much anymore because we have decided that nothing is worth anything!!

But of particular uselessness is the news that Brown and Wooden recently celebrated its third birthday!! And a celebration was had indeed!! Horse cakes, games, enthusiasm, desperation, utter exhaustion, and outrageous melancholy and apathy were had at the b-day bash, as well as an unbelievable quantity of CRAB henbane!

The CRAB henbane was smoked by all and enjoyed by a few but hated by most!

Blood Tortuga made an appearance at the festival, murdering everyone with his absurdly enormous cadaver!

No one cares about any of this though. Lets talk about the third year that was. The inferno of manure that was huge brown 2016.

TRUMP made an appearance. And then he never went away. Now we get to have TRUMP forever. Which is both exciting as well as horrible! We hope for all the comedy one could ever dream of from a TRUMP presidency, and we hope everyone doesn’t die! But everyone is probably going to die!

Buy some canned food. Buy a generator. Buy a horse. Ride the horse. Prepare for the CRABpocalypse!!

Kim Kardashian got things stolen from her which was interesting.

A snake went to Reno.

Taylor Swift made no new albums, which we were very pleased to learn.

Janet Reno (no known relation to the snake that went to Reno) died.

People ate a lot of CRAB and even more steer meat! Encouraging, yes?

Dr. Todd Fisk continues to be missing in action, after his dirigible went down somewhere over Nunavut some eighteen months ago on a wolf milking expedition! We’re confident that Dr.Todd Fisk is fine and will come back to us soon, but he is probably a corpse!

Anyhow those are the major occurrences that occurred this year! Don’t hold your breath on any more posts coming soon, because we don’t care about anything and we are extraordinarily depressed and unmotivated!

Warm Regards,

Aaron Bernquist



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