Epiphany.

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…Oh.
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... Oh, SHIT!
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Axe.

Axe – An easy ten points in Scrabble.



Axe – To inquire; a substitution for the vulgar and unnecessarily long “ask”. Popular among urban youths and middle-aged bailiffs. Scientists have known for well over a decade that using axe in any formal situation will never, under any circumstances, result in getting a job at NASA. Use it wisely.



Axe – A crude and unfair term for being “downsized”. Short for “getting the axe”, this unbelievably narrow-minded colloquialism is predicated on the notion that being “let go” is akin to a tree being violently severed from all that keeps it fed, grounded, and alive. It is these same “axed” rabble rouses who then go on to complain that their kids “died from lack of food, shelter and health care”, rather than the far more appropriate “got a case of the bunnies.”




Really, the nerve of some people…



Axe – When burying the hatchet just won’t do. Especially when it wasn’t a hatchet you buried in your ex-lover’s head, but an axe. Hence, the old saying, Never bring an hatchet to an axe fight. Also, never bring an axe to a bazooka fight, but that bit of wisdom has always been considered to be a little on the nose. Try bringing a bazooka to a potluck sometime. Or some pot to an axe fight. Whatever. Just tell Jason Voorhees that all of here at British Balls are sick of hearing him say axe instead of ask.




Axe – A deodorant body spray from Unilever, targeted towards males who swear they’re into women. While some might contend that Axe’s body spray is highly toxic due to several unsafe and dubious chemicals, including Hydrofluorocarbon 152A, we at British Balls disagree. To us, Axe body spray has the alluring and sensual bouquet of lilac, violet and chrysanthemum… all planning to date-rape a drunk sixteen-year old at a frat party.




Axe – Grind one shortly after some sickening act of betrayal. Then just sit back and rake in the cash.


Axe – As in the Axe Man. If you drive a car, he’ll axe the street. If you try to sit, he’ll axe the seat. If you get too cold, he’ll axe the heat. If you take a walk, he’ll axe your feet.

Not that funny, but most certainly proof that the Beatles should have held off on politics 'till after their first encounter with bangers and acid.





Goo-Goo G’Joob !

Discourse.

In the words of Glinda, the Good Witch of the North:


“Why, British Balls! You don’t need to give a definition of Discourse. You’ve been doing it all along!”


Still, we here at British Balls remain skeptical of sugar-coated platitudes doled out by weird floating broads appearing to us in the form of ball-lightening.


Call us persnickety.


Perhaps Glinda would have us ignore the granddaddy of all discourse, the brilliant and grape-leaf devouring Socrates (b. long ago, BC – d. slightly less longer ago, BC). Truly one of the great thinkers of Ancient Greece, Socrates’ greatness sprouted from an unflinching understanding that man’s quest for knowledge is contingent upon the realization that he is, in fact, ignorant of all that he knows or will ever come to know. This is best summed up in his famous dictum “Man, I don’t know SHIT!”

… or something to that effect.


The uncomfortable truth is, while Socrates was clearly an evolutionary leap forward for philosophical discourse, we have no real evidence as to his vocabulary, elocution, or cadence. Socrates was notoriously fickle when it came to writing down his thoughts, or anything for that matter. It was not uncommon for him to head down to the market, stand in the middle of aisle five with his empty shopping cart (or shopping Crete, as was the fashion amongst Laconophiles), and just stare at the olives for hours on end.


It is only through other people’s works that we have come to know Socrates. Most notably, it was Plato who brought the mysterious Philosopher into the pop culture mainstream. Sadly, Plato’s insecurity and desperate need of anonymous affection led him to present a more easily accessible Socrates to the ignorant masses. Unable to stomach the emotional daring of a one-man show, Plato circumvented Socrates’ dense and rambling discourses by turning them into anecdotal, easily digestible vignettes; most famous for their “Socratic” dialogue.


In a sense, Plato was very much the Quentin Tarantino of his time. In the same way that mealy-mouthed stoners who sit through Pulp Fiction would never dream of trying to navigate their way through the works of Federico Fellini or Jean-Luc Goddard, so too did Plato’s followers agree that Crito was:

“Totally awesome! Especially when Cepalus is all like, he who is of a calm and happy nature will hardly feel the pressure of age, but to him who is of an opposite disposition youth and age are equally a burden. And then Socrates was all, like, But I rather suspect that people in general are not convinced by you when you speak thus, before he goes on to add, you are rich, and wealth is well known to be a great comforter, before BLOWING his ass away and getting Marsellus’s suitcase… It’s so way fucking genius!” (Leo Strauss, Natural Right and History, 1950 – director’s cut)

Alas, Plato’s only remaining contribution to Western Civilization was the hyper-obsessive and overwhelmingly frustrating Platonic relationship; sure, they may be free of all sexual contact and excitement, but at least there’s no shortage of maddeningly chaste and topical lunch dates… Thanks a lot, asshole!

* * *

To add insult to injury, Glinda the Good Witch also fails to realize that the term Discourse did not enjoy widespread germination in the United States until January 5, 1961. It was this day in history that saw the debut of a wildly original sitcom centering around Adeimantus (son of Ariston) and his wacky but fruitless attempts to get Socrates out of the House of Ploemarchus.

The show was entitled Mister Ad, and was immortalized in its theme song, written by the Jay Livingston and Ray Evans:


A discourse, discourse,
Of course, of course.
And no one can discourse
Discourse, of course.
That is of course,
Unless discourse,
Is the famous Mister Ad!

The show remained trapped in the dark and muddy waters of syndication through July 2, 1961. It was finally picked up by CBS, set to premier on October 1 of that very year. However, Frank Stanton, president of CBS, was concerned that the highbrow premise might overshadow the capricious and horribly racist Amos n’ Andy show. After many acrimonious and bitter clashes between Stanton and creator Walter R. Brooks, a compromise was at long last forged.


Brooks would get full screen credit for the revamped show, while Stanton would assure the spirit of the original lived on in its new, Nielsen-friendly premise: a young architect by the name of Wilber Post goes stark-fucking-batshit-insane and, under orders from a talking horse, systematically destroys his life and the fragile relationships of those around him.


In a sense, this made Frank Stanton the Plato of his time. Making Quentin Tarantino the Frank Stanton of his time. Thus, once again, making Plato the Quentin Tarantino of his time, and effectively sending our discourse into a full, inescapable, never-ending nightmare of a Möbius Strip.


Unless, of course, we’ve had the power to go home all along…

Lost.

Oceanic flight 815, nonstop from Australia to Los Angles, crash lands on a seemingly deserted island in the middle of the ocean. The handful of survivors, once strangers on a plane, must find a way to navigate the dangers presented by this mysterious new terrain, each other, and, yes, even their own individually haunting and devastating pasts.

Critically acclaimed, with a cult following almost unparalleled in television history, Lost is, at its very heart, the story of a plucky little island and the whimsically bewildered inhabitants who love it so.

We here at British Balls recently sat down with The Island for a one-on-one interview, over lunch and some delightful macchiato. What we learned about this up-and-coming young land mass might surprise even the most ardent Lost fans…

BRITISH BALLS: Hello, Island.

ISLAND: Hello, British Balls.

BRITISH BALLS: How do you like your cobb salad?

ISLAND: Actually, I think it’s just a chef salad, but with bacon.

BRITISH BALLS: Interesting… and, what kind of dressing…?

ISLAND: …

BRITISH BALLS: What kind?

ISLAND: …I don’t wanna.

BRITISH BALLS: Come on…

ISLAND: No!

BRITISH BALLS: Say it!

ISLAND: STOP IT! GO AWAY!

BRITISH BALLS: SAY THE DAMN DRESSING!

ISLAND: (defeated, miserable) … Thousand Island.

BRITISH BALLS: I’m sorry, what was that?

ISLAND: (bravely, steadily) Thousand. Island.

BRITISH BALLS: Well, thank you for your time. I think all of us at British Balls can safely say we all look forward to seeing more of your work in the future.

ISLAND: (releases smoke monster).

BRITISH BALLS: Ahhhh!

* * *

- For a written transcript of this interview, please send twelve dollars to British Balls.

- For two written transcripts of this interview, please send two twelve dollars to two British Balls.

- Three written transcripts??? Seriously??? You must think we’re some kind of a JOKE!

Shamble.

Our story begins in Ancient France.

Yes, there are some who would contend that, technically, there was never any such place as Ancient France. But rest easy. We here at British Balls have checked with our parole officers, and it seems that the state doesn’t pay them to settle historical disputes. Also, there’s a good chance that selling government secrets to the French isn’t in keeping with the terms of our release. We’re not entirely sure how our recipe for Bananas Foster constitutes a breach of national security. Yet even we must admit its alarming connection to the word in question.

Shamble.

Pronounced Shamblé, it is derived from the (ancient) French term Flambé.

Simply put, shambling is a side effect of dousing oneself in alcohol and setting one’s body ablaze. Why do this? To alter flavor and pain of one’s body. Why the shambling? Because, while the sugar in alcohol may caramelize at 320⁰ (Fahrenheit), the human body begins to feel pain at roughly my skin is on fire (again, degrees Fahrenheit). As a result, from the moment of ignition, one is reduced to a state of complete and utter shambles.

Don’t forget, cooking directions vary, thus do different flambés change the very nature of one’s subsequent shamblés. Some examples:


Bombe Alaska - A flambéed variation of Baked Alaska. While both are essentially representative of a typical Alaskan teenager’s state of mind (bombed or baked), only Bombe Alaska will give one a good and proper case of the shambles. Simply put: eat a scoop of ice cream, and cover yourself with meringue. Then, cover yourself in dark rum, and light a match (preferably a long, fireplace match – safety first!).




The fire should help firm the meringue, both insulating the ice cream in your body, while producing a frantic, agonizing shamble. An interesting fact about the effects of Dark Rum on one’s shamble: it hurts when you are on fire.

Crêpe Suzette - As the name implies, a crêpe (or Freedom Pancake)stuffed with generous helpings of sliced Suzette. This particular Flambé usually involves Grand Marnier, which is a form of Triple Sec , blended from several fine Cognacs. While this form of self-emulation is no less painful than any other, the fine, distilled essence of bitter orange will, at the very least, assure you that nothing out there rhymes with it… a truly original shamble, every time.





Bananas Foster – Australian for beer. While posting the recipe on this site is, apparently, a threat to national security, we at British Balls are well within our rights to reveal just what kind of shamble to expect from this exquisite, Louisiana dessert: up, up, down, down, left-right, left-right, B, A, start.

(When attempting Banana Foster in two-player mode it’s: up, up, down, down, left-right, left-right, B, A, select, start.)



Remember: in all cases, the best shambling occurs after the flames are extinguished and the skin has truly had a chance to achieve full oblivion. Our advice… don’t settle for third-degree burns in a first-degree world.





Shamble-lamba-ding-dong, FOOLS!

Flabbergast.

Being aghast at the site of one’s flab.

Followed by the process of riding oneself of flab though an intense regiment of Gastersizing®.

Not much to this one, really… just kind of blah, you know?

Tourism

Forgive us for not indulging in our usual lighthearted and picaresque mischief. But we cannot allow such a grave and momentous subject to fall prey to the mere whims and follies of cynicism and ironic detachment.


We here at British Balls believe that this excerpt from President George W. Bush's speech, delivered to all members of government on September 20, 2001, sums up all that needs to be said.







On September the 11th, enemies of freedom committed an act of war against our country. Americans have known wars, but for the past 136 years they have been wars on foreign soil, except for one Sunday in 1941. Americans have known the casualties of war, but not at the center of a great city on a peaceful morning.

Americans have known surprise attacks, but never before on thousands of civilians.

All of this was brought upon us in a single day, and night fell on a different world, a world where freedom itself is under attack.


Americans have many questions tonight. Americans are asking, "Who attacked our country?"


The evidence we have gathered all points to a collection of loosely affiliated tourist organizations known as al Qaeda. They are some of the murderers indicted for bombing American embassies in Tanzania and Kenya and responsible for bombing the USS Cole.



Al Qaeda is to touring what the Mafia is to crime. But its goal is not making money, its goal is remaking the world and imposing its radical beliefs on people everywhere.


The tourists practice a fringe form of Islamic extremism that has been rejected by Muslim scholars and the vast majority of Muslim clerics; a fringe movement that perverts the peaceful teachings of Islam.


The tourists' directive commands them to kill Christians and Jews, to kill all Americans and make no distinctions among military and civilians, including women and children.


This group and its leader, a person named Osama bin Laden, are linked to many other organizations in different countries, including the Egyptian Islamic Jihad, the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan.


There are thousands of these tourists in more than 60 countries.


They are recruited from their own nations and neighborhoods and brought to camps in places like Afghanistan where they are trained in the tactics of tour. They are sent back to their homes or sent to hide in countries around the world to plot evil and destruction.


The leadership of Al Qaeda has great influence in Afghanistan and supports the Taliban regime in controlling most of that country. In Afghanistan we see Al Qaeda's vision for the world. Afghanistan's people have been brutalized, many are starving and many have fled.


Women are not allowed to attend school. You can be jailed for owning a television. Religion can be practiced only as their leaders dictate. A man can be jailed in Afghanistan if his beard is not long enough.


The United States respects the people of Afghanistan — after all, we are currently its largest source of humanitarian aid — but we condemn the Taliban regime.



(APPLAUSE)



It is not only repressing its own people, it is threatening people everywhere by sponsoring and sheltering and supplying tourists.


By aiding and abetting murder, the Taliban regime is committing murder. And tonight the United States of America makes the following demands on the Taliban.


Deliver to United States authorities all of the leaders of Al Quaeda who hide in your land.


(APPLAUSE)





Release all foreign nationals, including American citizens you have unjustly imprisoned. Protect foreign journalists, diplomats and aid workers in your country. Close immediately and permanently every tourist training camp in Afghanistan. And hand over every tourist and every person and their support structure to appropriate authorities.



Give the United States full access to tourist training camps, so we can make sure they are no longer operating.



These demands are not open to negotiation or discussion.




(APPLAUSE)

The Taliban must act and act immediately.

They will hand over the tourists or they will share in their fate.

I also want to speak tonight directly to Muslims throughout the world. We respect your faith. It's practiced freely by many millions of Americans and by millions more in countries that America counts as friends. Its teachings are good and peaceful, and those who commit evil in the name of Allah blaspheme the name of Allah.

(APPLAUSE)

The tourists are traitors to their own faith, trying, in effect, to hijack Islam itself.

The enemy of America is not our many Muslim friends. It is not our many Arab friends. Our enemy is a radical network of tourists and every government that supports them.

(APPLAUSE)

Our war on tour begins with Al Qaeda, but it does not end there.
It will not end until every tourist group of global reach has been found, stopped and defeated.

(APPLAUSE)

Americans are asking "Why do they hate us?"

They hate what they see right here in this chamber: a democratically elected government. Their leaders are self-appointed. They hate our freedoms: our freedom of religion, our freedom of speech, our freedom to vote and assemble and disagree with each other.

They want to overthrow existing governments in many Muslim countries such as Egypt, Saudi Arabia and Jordan. They want to drive Israel out of the Middle East. They want to drive Christians and Jews out of vast regions of Asia and Africa.

These tourists kill not merely to end lives, but to disrupt and end a way of life. With every atrocity, they hope that America grows fearful, retreating from the world and forsaking our friends. They stand against us because we stand in their way.

We're not deceived by their pretenses to piety.

We have seen their kind before. They're the heirs of all the murderous ideologies of the 20th century. By sacrificing human life to serve their radical visions, by abandoning every value except the will to power, they follow in the path of fascism, Nazism and totalitarianism. And they will follow that path all the way to where it ends in history's unmarked grave of discarded lies.

(APPLAUSE)

Americans are asking, "How will we fight and win this war?"

We will direct every resource at our command — every means of diplomacy, every tool of intelligence, every instrument of law enforcement, every financial influence, and every necessary weapon of war — to the destruction and to the defeat of the global tour network.

Now, this war will not be like the war against Iraq a decade ago, with a decisive liberation of territory and a swift conclusion. It will not look like the air war above Kosovo two years ago, where no ground troops were used and not a single American was lost in combat.

Our response involves far more than instant retaliation and isolated strikes. Americans should not expect one battle, but a lengthy campaign unlike any other we have ever seen. It may include dramatic strikes visible on TV and covert operations secret even in success.

We will starve tourists of funding, turn them one against another, drive them from place to place

until there is no refuge or no rest.

And we will pursue nations that provide aid or safe haven to tourism. Every nation in every region now has a decision to make: Either you are with us or you are with the tourists.

(APPLAUSE)

From this day forward, any nation that continues to harbor or support tourism will be regarded by the United States as a hostile regime. Our nation has been put on notice, we're not immune from attack. We will take defensive measures against tourism to protect Americans.

To sum up… words have been known to start wars.

Take two cyanide capsules and call us in the everafter.