"Ooh, beer. And some society that drinks it."

It's late. We're racking our brains for a new post; searching in vain for something to kick-start the discussion. In what appears to be a growing trend, we find nothing. But just as we're about to shut down for the night, a familiar friend sticks his head through our monitor. Literally.

It's none other than Homer J. Simpson, the man, myth and legend who captures the essence of the BDS for 30 minutes a week on FOX. After making a quick mental note to avoid drinking Guinness this late at night in the future because it obviously blends perception and reality into one bad blog, we decide to talk with our modern day hero.

Homer: Whoa. That was weird.

BDS: So, uh, what are you doing?

Homer: I'm looking for some guys who drink beer. (Looks around and puts hands on hips.)

BDS: That would be us.

Homer: So you're the BDS?

BDS: Are you a cop?

Homer: No.

BDS: Then yes.

Homer: Huh. I thought you'd be...thinner.

BDS: Now that's the pony keg calling the party ball fat.

Homer: Easy there, Flanders. I'm here to help.

BDS: Help?

Homer: That's right. I'm here to help save the BDS.

BDS: I'm not sure we need saving.

Homer: But you do. See, I saw this movie once about a bus that had to SPEED around a city, keeping its SPEED over fifty, and if it's SPEED dropped, it would explode. I think it was called "The Bus That Couldn't Slow Down."

BDS: And what does that have to do with us?

Homer: Everything! If the bus slows down, caboom! No Matrix trilolgy. If the BDS bus slows down, caboom! Beer everywhere! Oh, the humanity!

BDS: Okay Yoda, you're confusing us.

Homer: Yoda was a muppet. I'm a 2D cartoon visiting your 3D world.

BDS: What the hell is a muppet, anyway?

Homer: Well, it's not quite a mop, and not quite a puppet, but man...(laughs hysterically). So to answer your question, I don't know.

BDS: Right.

Homer: Anyway, my point is this: you're running out of time. Just like The Bus That Couldn't Slow Down, you're running out of time.

BDS: Time for what?

Homer: Time to remember why the BDS was once great.

BDS: "Once" great? What do you mean "once"?

Homer: As in "used to be".

BDS: Once great? You mean like your show?

Homer: We're still great.

BDS: Yeah, we know. It just sounded like a good zinger in the heat of battle. But we are too, you know.

Homer: Come on! Look around you. This lame-O blog is filled with old memories of distant hangovers. There's nothing new. Nothing fresh. It hasn't been up for two months and you're already running out of things to talk about; you're already reaching for topics to post. Take this crappy one, for example.

BDS: But...

Homer: Talk about jumping the shark a tad early.

BDS: But there's other stuff...

Homerr: "Oh, look! It's Fonzy on skis! And look at that! He's wearing his leather jacket and flying hell-bent towards the shark pen!"

BDS:...other stuff that's not necessarily BDS-related.

Homer: "I hope he makes it, like the time he jumped 20 barrels out in front of Arnold's."

BDS: We talk about other stuff.

Homer: That was Arnold's owned by Mr. Miagey. Not the Arnold's owned by Al Dalvechio. That Arnold's came later.

BDS: You aren't even listening.

Homer: Oh yes I am. You mean that random crap about NASA-this and "ooh, look at the pretty pictures of space"-that? You want to know about the constellations? Well, that one over there is Jerry the Cowboy. And that big dipper-looking thing is Alan...the Cowboy.

BDS: We're just trying to broaden the typical BDS horizon. You know. Talk about stuff we'd typically talk about around the Cheney beerfire. Like whether it's too dangerous to send civilians into outer space.

Homer: The only danger in space is if we land on the terrible Planet of the Apes..wait a minute. Statue of Liberty...THAT WAS OUR PLANET! YOU MANIACS! YOU BLEW IT UP! DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL! (starts sobbing uncontrollably)

BDS: So what do you do? What do you do when you wonder if the last song may have been sung and the party's over?

Homer: Isn't that a Journey song?

BDS: We were thinking more along the lines of Tesla.

Homer: But the party isn't over yet. Sure, wives and kids and jobs take a lot out of you, but I still find a way to squeeze eight hours of TV in a day. You can, too.

BDS: Takes too much effort. We all have too many responsibilities now.

Homer: Weaseling out of things is important to learn. It's what separates us from the animals...except the weasel.

BDS: Becky McFaddin had a weasel once.

Homer: Really?

BDS: No, that was a ferret. Sorry.

Homer: Listen, it all comes down to the source.

BDS: The source?

Homer: The reason why the BDS is what it is.

BDS: And what is that?

Homer: It's a bunch of immature drunks who are no longer immature, a bunch or drunk. You've each gone out on your own vision quests; down your own paths seeking fame, fortune and truth. But every once in a while, you must return to the circle and find renewed strength.

BDS: Is that a Native American flute we hear in the background?

Homer: Yeah. Apu thinks it adds a nice touch when I give that speech, but he sometimes forgets what type of Indian he is.

BDS: So what you're telling us between donuts is...

Homer: Want a bite? It's got fruit hidden inside.

BDS: That's not fruit. It's purple filling.

Homer: Purple's a fruit.

BDS: So you're telling us that, because the bus can't slow down under fifty miles an hour or it will explode, we need to throw a party.

Homer: Exactly.

BDS: You know how freakin' hard that is? You know how hard it is to clear calendars, make travel plans, bribe wives, sweet-talk the boss and actually pull something like that off?

Homer: Yup.

BDS: You're talking guys in three different states.

Homer: Uh huh.

BDS: Can't be done.

Homer: Oh, not a poker party. A real party.

BDS: A real party?

Homer: A real party with beer and wives and strippers and...

BDS: Wives and strippers?

Homer:...and disco balls and beenie weenies...

BDS: Disco balls? What is this? A sixth-grade roller skating party?

Homer: ...and those little notes you folded nine different ways in junior high...

BDS: You're drunk.

Homer: Better than being mature and boring.

BDS: Ouch.

Homer: Okay, then throw a wake.

BDS: A wake? Who died?

Homer: The BDS.

BDS: Damn it! Shut up with that crap!

Homer: Everyone show up dressed in black and bring some sort of potluck dish for the grieving family...

BDS: Look, you jaundice-colored son of a...

Homer: Did you have a poker party last year?

BDS: Uh, no.

Homerr: Did you all sip drinks with the little umbrellas together on Comeoniwannaleieya Beach earlier this month?

BDS: No, not all of us could swing that one...

Homerr: Oh, so you all went hunting together on Opening Weekend.

BDS: No, damn it. Not all of us do that.

Homer: Sounds like you need to polish up the black shoes for that final farewell.

BDS: Keep talking out your ass about things you know nothing about, Mr. Simpson, and we'll...

Homer: You'll what? Release the dogs on me? Or the bees? Or the dogs with bees in their mouth and when they bark, they shoot bees at me?

BDS: That's it. We're done here. Good night.

Homer: Okay. But think about it. Dwell on what we've talked about, so that future generations don't make the same mistakes you did.

BDS: There's that flute again...

Homer: Before you turn me off, any idea where I can find someone named Blasi?

BDS: Got us. Haven't heard from him in months. As far as we know, he hasn't been around here at all. Why?

Homer: 'Cause I've got a package for some guy named Perez, and someone told me his new name is Blasi.