A lot of youse been wondering where I’ve been. Well, it’s simple. I’ve been spending a lot of time in exotic foreign places that people like you can’t afford to go to, and spending my evenings wining and dining women who wouldn’t give losers like youse the time of day. Finally the funds ran a little low, so I agreed to write a little piece for this pathetic website that about two of youse read for anything other than the question of the week. Here goes:

Hey hipsters. I’ve had just about enough of you greasy annoying whiners who buy $10 ugly ass shirts at a second hand boutique for $20 so you can say that it’s used and listen to bands that suck on the offchance that the band gets a record deal someday so that then you can say that you saw them at the Khyber back in the day and “To be honest, you weren’t really that impressed.” Hey hipsters, here’s a few tips: pants legs rolled up look stupid, bed head looks stupid, you are ugly, you are an idiot. I hope Vladimir Putin finds you and slips polonium 210 into your Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Continue reading “Bobby Badtimes is Back! Beware his Wrath!” →

Philadelphia is the city that should be most ashamed of the way it treated Barry Bonds, because they were the most hypocritical about it. This is a city that prides itself on loving athletes who do whatever it takes to win, and yet when an athlete comes in here that has done everything possible, within the rules of the sport, to make himself better, he gets roundly booed. Bonds would have been given a standing ovation by the fans of Philadelphia if their actions backed up their words. As it is, they are all just boorish jerks looking for an excuse to boo.

Barry Bonds did steroids. So what? So did Phillies pitcher Ryan Franklin, but you don’t see Phillies fans booing him. At least, not until he starts pitching. And let’s face it; was it not brutally obvious that Mark McGuire and Sammy Sosa were on the juice during that great chase of ’98 that gave us all the fuzzies? So why does Barry not get treated like the star athlete that he is when he comes to Philly? Because he doesn’t operate under a facade of niceness, b/c his p.r. people don’t tell him to offer up a bunch of b.s. about “taking it one day at a time” and giving “110 percent”? You people always complain about how boring athletes are, then you get a guy who speaks his mind and you decide to hate him. Pathetic.

But what this really comes down to is the rules. Should Cy Young be villified b/c he was allowed to throw the spitball, which is now against the rules? No, so why should Bonds be villified for using steroids at a time when they were not only legal in baseball, but encouraged? It’s obvious that McGuire woulda never hit all those homers and gotten all those endorsement deals without the help of steroids, so why should Bonds be treated any differently than McGuire? The fact that baseball encouraged steroid use is baseball’s fault, not Bonds’s fault. He saw an opportunity to improve his game, and make himself better and his team better. And he did so in a way that he knew could potentially hurt his own health. He did what all the great ones do: He put it all on the line to improve his game within the framework of the rules. And you people, who call yourselves baseball fans, booed him. You just don’t know baseball.

My name is Bobby Badtimes. Beware my wrath!

I will be hosting quizzo this week, and I’m going in with only one goal. I want, at the end of each of the six contests I host this week, to see at least one person in tears. Don’t come to quizzo if you are expecting “good times”, b/c there will none. I will be drinking too much, saying inappropriate things at precisely the wrong time, and throwing long, awkward, uncomfortable stares at you women. I will be cussing like a sailor. I implore you to not bring children to the bar. If all goes according to plan, I will punch at least two of you in the face by the end of the week.
Related: Don’t Join Bobby on Myspace. He doesn’t want you to.

Bobby Badtimes here. Well, spring is in the air, and you know what that means…that pedestrians start getting real cocky. Somehow the warm weather makes them feel like a 2,500 lb. piece of steel moving at 25-30 mph can’t inflict major damage on their internal organs. So they just saunter out in front of you in your car, sometimes even looking you in the eyes as if to say, “I’m a pedestrian, and I alllllllways have the right away, no matter what the light says.” But I’ve come up witha neat little approach to deal with this problem: I’m going to start hitting two of you a week with my car until this bull**** stops. Not hard, I’m not trying to kill anybody here. Just a gentle little tap to take out your knees and send you sprawling to the pavement. Just hard enough to send a message that you’re on my road, and I’m the one with the deadly piece of steel.

Continue reading “Beware My Wrath!!!” →

Aw, isn’t it just the cutest holiday of the year? The day where every man in America, if only for a second, thinks about taking a flamethrower to the house of their ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend. And where every female thinks, “S***, I guess I gotta give it up tonight just because he bought me a $2 card and took me out to eat at Applebees” (15th and Locust, now hiring!) Yep, I do love Valentine’s. Nothing like socially forced sentimentality to say, “I love you.”

I was at a dinner party a few weeks ago where I was quoted as saying, “I won’t stop hating Dick Cheney until the day he shoots a Republican lawyer in the face.” I’m at the Dollar General now, purchasing incense for my new shrine.

Hey Philadelphia Metro (We’re just like the USA Today, only s****ier), nice job posting Philly’s best quizzoes. I was surprised you didn’t include Gervase’s.

Hey Gervase. Seriously dude, it’s over. Just…I’m sorry, I really liked you in Survivor, but it’s over, dawg. Let it go.

Hey Muslims. Seriously, just calm the f*** down. You’re behaving like “Dwayne” in the 700 level when Ronde Barber returned that INT for a touchdown in the 2002 NFC championship game. Don’t you understand the concept of freedom of…wait, what? They burned down a McDonald’s? Carry on, then. Carry on.

Hey guys with girlfriends. You think you’re all hot s***, walking around town, holding hands and kissing and all. Well hey, you remember last week when your girlfriend ran out to “get some milk?” She wasn’t getting milk, brother. No, she was running her hands through the ol’ Bobby Badtimes permanent ($35 at the unisex salon in Upper Darby). To be the man, you gotta beat the man. Wooooooooo!

Hey figure skating. Look me in the eyes when I tell you this. YOU…F******…SUCK. The only thing that could make me watch figure skating is if they started releasing live bulls onto the ice during the programs. Angry, deadly, hungry bulls.

My name is Bobby Badtimes. Beware my holiday wrath!!!

No time for pleasantries. Hey Geno’s, why don’t you take your Mississippi white trash act somewhere else? “This is America, Please speak English when ordering”. Quick question: Were your ancestors speaking the King’s English when they got off the boat? I’m pretty sure mine weren’t. In fact, I think they were moving to America to get away from the kind of pretentious ignorance you so proudly display. Then again, I might be more willing to let this transgression slide if you weren’t the Ride the Ducks of cheesesteaks: loved by tourists, but you don’t see any locals waiting in line.

Hey Philadelphia Weekly: Enjoyed the irony of your latest cover story. On the one hand, hipsters do kind of suck. On the other hand, aren’t they precisely the demographic your mag targets? That’s like Johnny doing a story called, “Why I Hate Nerds”. As for me, I don’t care about hipsters. The guys don’t like sports and the girls look like angry circus clowns, so I don’t have much use for ’em.

Continue reading “The Return of Bobby Badtimes” →

Sorry to disappoint. I’m sure all you hosebags thought that with all this press that this week was just gonna be one big Johnny Goodtimes Lovefest. Well bad news, suckers. Badtimes is here to rain on the old parade. First of all, Johnny, the scavenger hunt was a great idea. Everybody in this city just loves running around on 103 degree days trying to get pressed pennies from the Seaport Museum. You blockhead. And gee whiz, why not schedule it on a busier vacation week? Nevermind. THAT WOULD BE IMPOSSIBLE!

Continue reading “No, Not Bobby Badtimes! Not today!” →

Johnny Goodtimes went blow for blow for Philly Style magazine this week, and came out, as usual, a loser. Philly Style announced it’s winners for Philly’s best personalities of 2005, and ol’ Johnny didn’t make the cut.

Continue reading “Goodtimes Snubbed by Philly Style, Whines Like A little b****” →