Brown and Wooden

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

by bernquist

50673157127__1c3f26a5-6ce8-4d21-8916-c669b8297f15

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!!

We have lots of other stuff that sets stuff on fire if you hate the ELK, including INFERNO PIG, ARSON ARMADILLO, MASS MURDER MINK, BRUSH FIRE BUFFALO, MATCHES MARMOT, LIGHTER LEMUR, PYRO PORPOISE, BACON SALAMANDER, BURNING BUSH BADGER, ASH TRAY SNAKE, TUSK STUMP, MICHAEL MOORE, BLOOD TORTUGA, SANDWICH HORSE, BLACK MARKET ORGAN TARANTULA, REINCE PRIEBUS SHARK THIEF, and many thousands more!!!

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!!

 

New Year, Same Despair! TRUMP? TRUMP! TTTTRRRRUUMMMPPP!!!!

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

 

 

Blood Tortuga

by bernquist

The Blood Tortuga is strong and resoundingly fierce. Not only does he eat everyone but he also kills everyone.

Blood Tortuga is 40 miles long. He is devastating.

Sometimes because he is 40 miles in length, he destroys multiple metropolises at the same time. Everyone fears Blood Tortuga. He weighs 70 million pounds.

Blood Tortuga was not always huge or hostile. He used to be a normal sized blood tortoise. But one day, when he was a young tortoise at Millard Fillmore School for the Amphibial Talented, he decided to eat some of Millard’s corn. Corn fresh from the wooden cob.

Now he is huge. And now he eats everyone. He is nine miles tall.

Blood Tortuga can be seen from outer space.

Time Magazine called him “The Hugest Tortoise Ever.” And because he does not wear pants, he is considered a danger to society. Also because he makes everyone die.

If you look at him he will walk on your face. And his resolve will be crushing.

Take pictures of him if you dare. Or set him on fire with a scalding hot flame pig.

Blood Tortuga thought about running for president but he decided not too because he’s not an utter imbecile.

He washes mountains with Windex. Mainly the Himalayas.

The End.

TRUMP and stuff

by bernquist

Alright CRABS, it’s the moment you’ve all been drooling over your dead horse collection for!! Some real and actual political commentary from Brown and Wooden!

Contrary to popular belief (because our popularity is truly staggering) my brother Todd and I are not dead, but have been so engrossed in the quagmire of the race for the White House over the past few months that we have been unable to focus our efforts on any other enterprise than to sit on the couch and watch TV. Also both of us are hopelessly addicted to crab henbane so we can’t do anything except wallow and puke anyway.

How has the huge, brown, and obviously elliptical United States found itself in this scenario?! A presidential race, dominated on one side by a ruined hag with a “whole truth” problem, and on the other by the world’s most gigantic continuous spam-capsule outfitted with radiant orange hog hair and a flair for insultiary (cuz that’s a word) rhetoric unseen since Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr tried to murder each other with actual firearms when rhetoric just wasn’t enough.

It should be noted that Burr actually did murder Hamilton, good and dead. But does anybody even know who these people are anymore? Doubtful considering we like Hillary and TRUMP.

Seriously? TRUMP?? I mean Hillary we sort of understand at Brown and Wooden, because we know people think “Oh yeah, Hillary. She’s done some things and some stuff. And she was married (is married? maybe still??) to that one guy we liked in the 90s. She’d probly be ok.” Never mind emailgate or whatever the hell they refer to it as now. The only gate anyone understands in America today is picturegate or cloudgate or whatever the gate was when Jennifer Lawrence had no pants. Clearly I’ve digressed.

TRUMP. A known troll baster and pork enthusiast. Ask a typical voter why they like TRUMP and a typical response is “because he’s tough and he’s not an insider.” Well let’s see now… Floyd Mayweather is tough. And he is certainly no Washington insider. So sweet mother of ox milk, we’ve got ourselves a new candidate, America!!

Vote Floyd 2016! It doesn’t matter if he can’t read more than 13 words of English (or any other language) or that he cavorts around with Bieber (enough said), He’s got 93 billion dollars! He’s a fantastic businessman!! And if he runs America anything like he runs Money Mayweather Promotions, we’ll be beating China into the bronze age in no time! And making Mexico pay…for everything!!!

TRUMP supports killing families of terrorists and ordering the U.S. military to break U.S. and international law (by his own admission), but that’s all fine and good and neat. He’s gonna make America great again! And he’s gonna do it with that TRUMP style we know and love!! So who cares about the law…or anything!

It is befuddling that a man who resembles the rare and nearly extinct morbidly obese fake tanning albino wildebeest constantly attacks members of the media and fellow candidates on their appearance. Yet he throws a bona fide conniption over a veiled reference to the size of his tiny hands. The strength and resolve just cascades out of every statement and action!!!

Anyhow, if you’re fed up with TRUMP or Hillary or Cruz or Bernie for that matter, don’t waste anymore time! Show your support for Harlan Scottsdale today! And for the love of Zeus, don’t be a troll baster!!

 

 

 

Put The MinkMilk In Your Mouth

by bernquist

What’s up crab people it’s your favorite billionaire spork marketer and elk tamer Rod Bucksnare! It has been a tremendous amount of time since Bucksnare International Ltd. has brought you any new, exciting, or otherwise incredibly useful products.

We’ve been busy looking for dead camels. But now we have a thing!

Introducing MinkMilk! What is MinkMilk?? It is milk. From a mink. And it is a mink. Who is milk. MinkMilk!

MinkMilk is an incredibly complex serum. Each vial (carton) is composed of one mink, an expertly crafted mink who is both mink and dairy!!

But Rod! How can a mink be milk?? That’s probably the question that stupid people might be asking right now. The answer is so obvious that I won’t even go into the explanation of how this is a thing! But there’s a lot of science involved! And engineering! And ingenuity! As well as genius! And hubris!

You can buy our MinkMilk at a lot of stores and stuff all over Western Australia and of course in Northern Canada! And tons of buffoons are in fact doing just that! Buying the MinkMilk. Drinking the mink. And suffering unimaginable consequences!!

Veruptous Ganberg of Nunavut had the following insights regarding his recent purchase of MinkMilk from the the Curco Talverones Pork Depot in Iqaluit:

“Yeah I bought some MinkMilk yeah I sure did. Thought it seemed like a fun and exciting milk innovation so I bought a gallon of MinkMilk and brought the little fella home. He was real agitated after I left him in the refrigerator for 79 hours. Opened up the fridge and poured him into my cereal and then he tried to eat my face! Stabbed his shockingly brown weasely milk talons right into my throat! I eventually succeeded in eating some of my MinkMilk Bran, and after dressing my neck, face, and internal injuries (which proved surprisingly difficult to dress), I gingerly placed the remainder of the mink back in the refrigerator and drove my mind-blowingly agile six cylinder octopus to my job! Which I hate!”

Veruptous Ganberg! What an ambassador for change! Let’s vote for him!

Anyway, get some MinkMilk because it’s great and it’ll tear your lips off, metaphorically of course! And actually!

MinkMilk! Put it in your face today!

 

No actual minks were harmed in the postulation of this product. However, many humans were harmed in its distribution and eventual imaginary attempted consumption. MinkMilk has been known to cause incredible pain as well as deep and unsightly lacerations. Drink at your own risk. Don’t worry about drinking responsibly. There is no known alcohol in MinkMilk. 

 

 

 

It’s Brown And Wooden’s Birthday So Send Us All Your Money!

by bernquist

Photo Courtesy of Todd Fisk Wooden iphone Photography and Taxidermy Consulting Services.

Huge brown buffalo in his natural habitat. If you observe him closely you can tell that he is obviously exceedingly hostile and without purpose! Photo Courtesy of Todd Fisk Wooden iphone Photography and Taxidermy Consulting Services.

Hello CRABS! It is hard to comprehend that we have put two years of our time into making this blog a fixture in everyone’s wooden lives! Nevertheless today is the 30th of December, which means that Brown And Wooden, the home of all the world’s most vital and pertinent data to all categories of everything is celebrating another year in the books…the big brown books!

In keeping with the theme of our very first titanic wooden post ever, 10 Signs It’s Time To Quit Your Job, we now offer you yet another list of 10 things, 10 Unequivocal Indications That You Are In Fact A Buffalo! Have it below and thank you all for another year of whatever this is!

10 Indications That You Are In Fact A Buffalo

10. You are huge.

9. You are brown as well as huge as well as plains dwelling.

8.  When people try to approach you, you trample them to death.

7. The best part of your day is bowlfullofdeadgrass:30.

6. People try to kill you with arrows periodically.

5. No pants.

4. Your worst nightmare is a wolf who also does not wear pants.

3. You have no thoughts.

2. People eat you as a substitute for cattle meat.

1. You Directed Fahrenheit 9/11

The Best and Worst Beers of 2015: Bernquist’s Picks

by bernquist

Beer Bottle
Do you like to stuff beer in your wooden face!? Boy I sure do! And I’ve been siphoning the beer down my throat with rigorous fervor this holiday season to bring you all the absurdly unnecessary data you could possibly want about your favorite addictive and self destructive beverage!

And without further worthless prattle, here are the best and worst picks of 2015:

10. Elysian Space Dust IPA

This wooden nectar comes directly from Seattle and like most beer it is brownish in color. At around 8% alcohol you can drink just two or three pints of it and feel relatively terrible the next morning, which obviously is the desired effect! Hops and yeast and grain and what not combine to bestow this India Pale with its decidedly brilliant and delightfully delightful ipaesque taste, ensuring that you the drinker will be drooling for more! Or hoping for death! I give Space Dust 7 stars out of 8.5 stars!

9. Coors Light

For those of you who appreciate a tall, cool, and refreshing thermos full of camel urine, this is the beer for you! Unlike the Space Dust, this remarkably disgusting juice is yellowish in color and carries overwhelming notes of troll mucus! Also unlike the Space Dust, I drank 14 of these mini trash sacks before I felt anything, and that feeling was sick, full, tired, and devastated! I give this beer a score of two out of two morsels of wildebeest stool!

8. Horace Barbosa’s Coffee Milk Stout

Horace has created yet another masterpiece, delivering a robust grog both stout and milky with a hint of brown coffee! This liquid death is good, and it is also neat! And I give it four thumbs up!

7. Miller Genuine Draft

See Coors Light.

6. Sergeant Oglesmith’s Roadkill Stout

The Sergeant has really outdone himself with this carrier of cloudy despair, bringing a strong dark brew that is both delectable and potentially fatal when consumed! Most of the batch that I had was made from the cadaver of an inaugural dead porcupine. Once the porcupine was pickled and steeped, a combination of hops and arsenic were added to his corpse juice and boiled to give the resulting concoction it’s remarkably unique, one of a kind, and unparalleled flavors and it’s reasonably healthy 65% alcohol content! 2 crabs to the wind for this one!

5. Huge Brown Frog Christmas Pale

An exquisite blend of pond scum and horse broth give this bitter depressant textures of ox milk with notes of Bohemian oatmeal and corn. While not the most exciting brew on the list, it is…good. And it is also drinkable. And seems to have been brewed in a fairly conventional manner with yeast and stuff. One thumb up.

4. Big Brown Crab Double Ipa

Not only will this beer kill you good and dead, but it will leave you pleading for a huge wooden case full! Made from crushed and ruined crab meat from Big Brown Crab’s destroyed legs, it deserves to be had…by no one! With a taste comparable to the liver of a three days dead walrus, we recommend drinking with caution. And a hazmat suit! 5 stars!!!

3. Snake Shackleton Lager

Snake Shackleton isn’t really known for being a brewer, or for being anything since he is nothing, but this newly released lager should put him on some kind of a map! Both tasty and lager colored, it carries an interesting alcohol content of snake% and tastes like most lagers, bland and terrible! 3.5 out of 12 loaves of bread!

2. Morton El Cajon’s Binary Brew

Hoppy and made of ones and zeros, this confusing ale may or may not be wheat-based! It has no distinguishable taste and an alleged alcohol content of 10%. Great with a 64 ounce steak or with a bowl full of cream cheese, this one deserves to be known about! 6 ticks of the staff!

1. Donald Trump Ale

If you like Arrogant Bastard you’ll probably be up in arms for this one! Decidedly reddish in color and packaged in a 22 ounce cylinder laden with thin orange hair, this masterpiece brew tastes strongly of upper class with twinges of aloofness and mind numbing prickery! Make sure you have a rabid wolverine nearby when you drink this one as onlookers may want to set you on fire! I give it 12 billion dollars!

Now that you know all about everything, go try these interesting beverages for yourself! Get to the store, buy a sack full of steel wool and the brews of your choice, drink forth, eat the steel wool to cleanse the palate, and then drink some more! Have fun and good luck!

 

Meat Theft On The Rise: And the Culprit Is?

by bernquist

Old Harry Skorbel was in a real brown pickle. Additionally, nothing about his circumstances was in any way pickle-like. Or brown. He’d been watching the Melrose Community Steakhouse for nigh on 54 consecutive hours now from the comfort (or lack thereof) of his destroyed as well as ruined 1998 four door Honda Civic.

It hadn’t always been this way. In the late eighties Harry was the proud owner of an astonishingly well kept 1970 Ford Pinto, but I digress.

The steakhouse in question had been occupied by real meat eating plebeians, socialites of considerable wealth, Norwegian ox immigration specialists, mailmen, archers, school teachers, and all other people that do stuff for a living for days on end, leaving Harry scant opportunity to pounce.

Harry was once a Real Estate agent in Shreevsomethingorother, New Hampshire, but lost his wooden job status after the housing market exploded in 2008, and after several homes were destroyed by suicidal and morbidly obese koalas lunging to their deaths from the huge trees above.

It was then that he turned to crime, principally robbing steak houses of all their elk, eagle, antelope and other meats to be sold in the huge and largely non existent Underground Weird Meats Exchange.

Harry knew from extensive research that the Melrose Community Steakhouse was stuffed to the big brown rafters with the finest albino alligator meat in the nation, and he knew that the meat emporium would be closed on Monday due to the owner’s raucous hatred of Monday Night Football.

It was 12 a.m. The last useless server was exiting the building and locking the huge brown walnut front door with a magnificent wooden key crafted exclusively from cheap, low quality prefinished maple veneer.

“This is my one shot” thought Harry as he fired up his meat vacuum. He charged full bore toward the entrance, screaming…

 

%d bloggers like this: