The BSD Approves: Installment 10

The BSD is ornery!

It's Thirsty Thursday and the BSD is quenching his as he writes, sipping champagne elegantly from his crystal flute, denizens of his perverse macrocosm splayed louchely across his shag rugs, coolly hearing (but not listening to) Saint Tropez Cote Plage as it echoes through the cavernous corridors of his insolent abode.

"Sure," he says confidently to his closest courtesan, a succubus of Homeric proportions, "I can accept that we're going nowhere, but one last time just go there, lay down beside me...."

And the mutting begins.

Prepare to have your dome pieces mutted, rigidly and benevolently, in the Tenth Installment of The BSD Approves (which Time Magazine calls "extremely disturbing and earth-shatteringly insipid")*.

Philip Crangi- jewelry maker, scenester, antagonist, and Bearded Wonder. It's frightening how through sheer willpower the BSD is slowly but surely transforming into a Philip Crangi doppelganger. Approved.

Dividing by zero. Like hearing that tree in the forest or trying to explain to a libidinous young DIQG-look-alike model why Hugh Everett's Many Worlds Interpretation differs so succinctly from the Copenhagen Theory. It can, but shouldn't be done.

Approved (on account of the effort. The BSD has already divided by zero. The answer is yes).

When the BSD was roundly derided and critically repudiated for his paper entitled The Loud Wooing and Supple Conquest of Ms. X, his emotionally-abiotic tome chronicling the prodigious effort and mathematical unravelling of DIQG's soft, black Agent Provocateur panties, he escaped criticism and opprobrium here, at his lighthouse off the coast of Ireland. He left years later, well-toned, defined, and masterfully gorgeous, his radiance permeating the dense obscurity of dark matter, emitting what he himself would one day call his "Ardent Conflagration".

Approved.

This is a bag similar to the one in which the BSD stowed his collection of rare Medieval adult reading, ample gin, bags of pure Bolivian nose candy, and considerable paperwork on his sojourn to Turkey, where he published a missive under an assumed name to mass critical acceptance.

Approved. The bag, that is, it's a really gnarly bag.

Rod Stewart, in his sexual prime. Approved.

(This post was made on account of the BSD's inability to get the song Maggie out of his head. Also, If You Think I'm Sexy is up for BSD Theme Song [though ideally to be the theme song of the BSD, we would have to remove "If" from the title and the song], to be voted on by this blog's very own audience. Send suggestions in the comments section. That's right bitch ass! THE BSD has gone interactive! Suck it!)

Right? Not Approved.

Rooftop parties, especially in NYC. Approved.

Perhaps the Greatest Moment in Beard, all-time, no question, no debate.

Later that night, Bernardus did his devious best to dazzle this young harlot with his decades of experimentation and innovative maneuvering. He succeeded, though not without the loss of movement in his lower extremities and a severely broken hip.

Approved.

Yes. The BSD's hair is coming along, it's going to look like this, and the ladies are going to love it.

Approved.

Recycling. This is a great idea and the BSD is going to use this aboard the houseboat.

Approved.

* Time Magazine did not say those things, though, if they were to become aware of the BSD Approves, they probably would.