So I found this site today. It’s like a certain feature on this blog, only the opposite. Any schmuck can post pictures of scantily clad women and call it a blog, but does he know how much effort and creativity it takes to make fun of a random, defenseless MySpace user who had the misfortune of showing up in my browser every single week?*

It’s been a really long time since BC had a legit blog feud, but maybe it’s time to start another one. We might be fairly mainstream with our own domain now, but like they always say, you can take the boy out the streets, but you can’t take the streets out the boy.

Just so you know what we’re dealing with, here’s some sample text from Hottest Girls of MySpace. For now, I’ll withhold further criticism:

For the record, I have respect for all people, especially women (mostly because they have breasts and a vagina). But in all seriousness this is a blog to entertain and amuse both myself and my readers. If you take it seriously, that is up to you. I do not know any of the people I post about and all of the commentary is based on my impressions of the pictures I publish. Therefore, any comments taken as offensive or rude? Too fucking bad. The pictures tell the story.

Let me tell you what I like best about this picture It’s not the tongues on the tits. It’s not the beer in hand. It’s not the fact that they’re drunk or that this picture just totally kicks some serious baby tushy. You know what I love? That slight belly bulge on the girl getting licked. You can tell she’s just a little chubby and I just love that. Why? She’s real. And she has the tits to compensate for that cute little kitten trapped inside her tummy. What a perfect one night stand candidate. Wow.

Plain, simple, yet devious. For all we know that’s really one of those stars in the middle of a circle symbolizing the devil. For me? I just think it’s a signal pointing to her ass crack. That kind of tattoo is a road map to look down. Are we really going to look UP after seeing it? No.

What is it that makes a pornstar? Seriously I don’t get it. I mean she could easily enter the business. I suppose it’s just showing your vagina on film and letting a penis come into the frame. All of sudden that instantly make men want to have sex with you.

* I don’t mean “week” in the literal sense. And it’s not that much work, really.

I’m not sure we should let this person continue to give language warriors a bad name without a bit of a fight.

Oh, Grammar Vandal. This is difficult for me to say. I know you think you are doing God’s work, but I think you’d be a happier person if you left the sanctimonious, prescriptivist fervor to the religious right and got a job as an editor, which job would allow you to use your powers for good.

In other words: Settle down, grasshopper. You have much to learn. Relax, have an iced tea, and consider these important facts:

1) Botched “sentences” are entertaining. RUN EASY BOSTON? That’s hilarious! Why are you trying to deprive me of that sign?

2) Some rules of grammar are stupid. Tell me, do you honestly give half a shit whether I split an infinitive with an adverb? If you answered, “Yes,” you revealed your allegiance to a pointless, archaic rule artificially imposed on English by Latin-worshipping dead guys who thought it would make them sound smarter. They’re dead now. Do you see where I’m going with this?

3) By harping on strict adherence to the rules, you hurt the cause. It’s nice when people use apostrophes well and funny when they don’t, but honey, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.

4) Nobody likes a smartass.

It is with great pleasure today that we announce that the still undefeated Barber College has been declared winner of the Barber College - Memoirs of Sophie T. Mishap Blog Feud of 2006. After putting up with Ms. Mishap’s numerous lies and several instances of fraud, Barber College called upon its legal team, pictured above, to enforce the contract signed by the members of Barber College and Ms. Mishap prior to the commencement of the feud. Faced with overwhelming evidence of Ms. Mishap’s misdeeds, the United States Supreme Court ruled unanimously that Barber College should be declared the victors. The following portions of the BC-Mishap contract were violated on multiple occasions by Ms. Mishap:

• § 001.045 - Fabrications and misrepresentations of the truth are strictly forbidden.
• § 237.225 - All photographs and graphics are to be presented in their original and unedited forms.
• § 339.011 (c) - Posts pertaining to a feud participant’s sexuality are to be limited to three (3) per day.
• § 753.111 - No party who is not directly involved with the feud shall at any time attempt to intervene in any matters pertaining to the feud. Feud participants are to be held responsible for controlling such parties.
• § 908.315 (h) - Poorly written fake news articles are strictly forbidden.

con·tract n. An agreement between two or more parties, especially one that is written and enforceable by law.

Thank you all for your support throughout this ordeal, and we hope that with your help we can return to business as usual.

A victory party is planned for Saturday, May 13, 2006, on the roof of Barber College Headquarters in downtown Detroit, Mich. Free PBR, hot dogs, and Doritos will be provided. No creepy stalkers allowed.

He’s the one with the spiky hair.

BC-NY agents informed us this morning that Stephanie T. Mishap was spotted licking and pressing her breasts against professional clown David Blaine’s aquarium overnight. Apparently she was also holding a sign that said, “David you take my breath away!!! MARRY ME!!!” David appeared nonplussed, and while it was difficult to make out what he was saying underwater, we’re pretty sure it was something along the lines of “I have no penis, for I am larger than life. I transcend gender and do not require sexual gratification like you lowly humans. You may stay and gaze upon my magnificence, but you must not ask me to marry you.”

Not enough can be said about how inspiring and heartening the Immigration Marches were yesterday. Imagine: People caring enough about their rights, their families and the country to take to the streets and be unified behind a cause instead of behind their own vanity and self-righteousness (like, I don’t know, say the rest of the American left). Maybe there could be a new labor movement or at least a shift away from the sense of impending doom we currently call reality. Sorry, don’t mean to get all Daily Kos-y on your asses, but the March went right by my office here in Chicago and it must have flipped on my pontification switch.

Actually, there was only one thing that bothered me about the day. I was out at lunch, watching everybody going by and counting Che t-shirts (11 in under 20 minutes) when this big black town car came skidding up to the sidewalk. And out hops this woman in huge sunglasses and a full-length fur. It took me a second, but suddenly I realize it’s Sophanie Mishap. We never actually met, (thanks internerd!) but I recognize her from the headshot her publicist sent out when the feud began. Her manservants jump out of the front seat and out of the trunk they start immediately assembling a huge chair, like lifeguards or tennis judges sit in.

As soon as it’s together, SM is up in it and her goons pass her one of those giant ’20s cheerleader megaphones. She starts screaming at the Marchers, demanding to know where Julio, her gardener, is. She’s absolutely indignant, claiming she knows people at the INS and yelling if everybody doesn’t get back to “their owners” right away she’ll report them. For some reason, she urges every white person who walks by to “Remember the Maine.” It put a real damper on the whole day.

Joel and I wanted to take a time out from the feud to say something to all the witless bystanders who keep wandering into the blog firefight. Kids, stay out of it.

Now when you’ve been brought up in the game, like me and J-Ho, you know to mind your own goddamn business and not hop into a battle that ain’t yours to fight. This ain’t pretend; these are the lifes we’re living and if we expected to die old we never would have started blogging to begin with. We certainly don’t appreciate you trying to step to this. Not in the slightest. Go try to make your rep somewhere else cause this is about blood here.

Now we understand some of you are (dumbly) trying to jump on our satirical grenades to protect Mistress Svenia T. Mishap. Your devotion, while mildly cute, is also extremely creepy. Have you ever seen the SNL sketch about the Mr. Belvedere fan club? Where they say they love him so much they want to put him in a giant glass jar, but worry that his breath will fog up the jar and they won’t be able to see him and they kill his pets? That’s you, loony freaks. Get out of here and into some direct sunlight.

The feud will resume as soon as I make a sandwich.

Apparently Stephanie cares as much for her dog as she cared for Mrs. Amberton’s. Oh well… Gotta do what you gotta do. I would have just shot him in the face like I did with the last dog, but our buddy Mike Tyson was in town. BC and Iron Mike go way back. Anyway, we know Mike’s propensity for biting things, so we let him have at Maxwell Smart. Wow! We knew Mike had quite an appetite, but we didn’t expect this! Mike completely devoured Maxwell, flesh, organs, everything. Everything but the fur and bones, which he crafted into a stylish hat and necklace.

Then we drank some Earl Grey and played Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out!! After I burned through the game undefeated, it was Mike’s turn. It turns out that he’s really bad! He couldn’t even get past King Hippo!

Well, Steph… That makes two dogs you could have saved, but you chose not to. But we’re not going to feel as sorry for you as we felt for Mrs. Amberton. No puppies this time. Just more war.

A few days ago, we shot what we thought was Stephanie T. Mishap’s dog, Maxwell Smart, in the face with an automatic weapon. Turns out we made a little mistake, and boy are our faces red! Nevertheless, since we’re men of integrity, we’re willing to admit our mistake and do whatever it takes to rectify the situation. You see, the dog we killed wasn’t Stephanie’s at all! It actually belonged to her kindly old neighbor, Irma Amberton. We’ve already sent her our apologies and condolences, and we’re paying for the funeral costs in their entirety. On top of that, we’ve given her these little fellas:

Not only is she getting seven dogs to replace the one we shot, but these puppies are also 100 times cuter than her old dog, which results in an increase of 700 cuteness points! Plus we’re letting her keep the little red wagon. That’s how Barber College operates. When we make a mistake, we don’t just admit it; we also pay for it 700 times over… and we throw in a free wagon.