idiotprufs

Read by four out five drunken monkeys–written by the fifth.

I Apologize for this Post in Advance

Crabman

The Crabman would never serve this.

A Tokyo-based eatery opened last month with the house specialty of “poo-flavored curry.”

Not poo-flavored as in Winnie the Pooh, because that would just be weird. They’re serving feces-flavored curry.

What the hell is going on?

To be fair, the dish doesn’t contain any actual feces, just natural ingredients like green tea, bitter gourd and cocoa powder that, when combined, looks and tastes similar to human defecation.

When asked how they know the curry tastes similar to human defecation, one of the waitstaff just hung his head and muttered that he was bitterly underpaid.

To enhance the illusion, the crap-flavored curry is served in a porcelain bowl meant to resemble a bedpan — yeah that’s it.

japanese curry

What the hell is going on?

Evidently the poo-flavored curry is the brainchild of executive chef Ken Shimizu, who designed the dish to remind people of his other line of work: as a male porn actor who has…wait for it…eaten feces in some of his films.

Seriously, what the hell is going on?

ken shimuzu

This is the man I want preparing my food. (Also, the least disturbing picture of him I could find.)

Note: I for one am astounded that no one has previously tried to combine fine dining with fetish-porn. The two go together like…

Note to the note: every joke I came up with for the previous line was unusable…horrifyingly unusable.

Unfortunately for Ken (How many different ways could this sentence end?) his restaurant’s own market research has determined 85 percent of people would never order the dish based on the description of the meal.

A quick question to the other 15 percent: What The Hell Is Going On?

Reportedly one customer couldn’t stomach the meal and vomited into his bowl, immediately giving Ken an idea for a new dish.

Final note: I made-up that last part, but you believed it didn’t you? Again: my apologies.

Pooh

Reportedly not on the menu.

Wouldn’t it be Easier?

names

Wouldn’t the world be a better, more navigable place, if people’s names reflected their personality traits and true characters?

Imagine if the highway patrolman could read the name on the driver’s license of that attractive young woman who’s trying to flirt her way out the ticket, and say, “I’d like to let you go without a citation Miss…Manipulative Little Tramp, but I don’t think I can do that today.”

If Phil, that wonderful guy you just met, who you are convinced will be the perfect husband, had the full name of Philandering Piece Of Crap, wouldn’t heartache be avoided?

If that cute girl who moved into your apartment building had been named Crazy Potential Stalker, none of those restraining orders would have been necessary, and that deadbolt wouldn’t have had to be replaced. (She was 110 pounds of muscle and crazy.)

If Jeffrey Dahmer had been named more appropriately, perhaps fewer young men would’ve fallen prey to his wiles. People tend to not let their guard down around you when your name is Homicidal Flesh Eating Weirdo.

If some of my aunts bore names like Insidious Hag, Conniving Bridge Troll, or anything with the words wicked or odiferous in them, perhaps I would have made fewer snarky comments about their chunky thighs or their dull-witted offspring…probably not, but perhaps.

Note: it has been brought to my attention that my uncle, Two-Faced Lying Rat-Bastard, is furious with some of the things I have written in this blog. In particular he is unhappy with my implications that some of my aunts are witches or monsters. As an olive branch, from this point forward, I will no longer imply that some of my aunts are witches or monsters; I will use only declarative statements. I’m happy we could work this out.

If Adolph Hitler had been called Genocidal Maniac, the world may have been slightly more wary during his ascent to power.

Ditto Mao Tse-tung.

Ditto Joseph Stalin.

Ditto Milton Obote.

Ditto Idi Amin.

It’s reported Idi Amin liked to be called:

His Excellency, President For Life Field Marshall Al HADJ Doctor Idi Amin DADA, VC, DSO, MC. Lord Of All The Beasts Of The Earth And Fishes Of The Sea And Conqueror Of The British Empire In Africa In General, And Uganda In Particular.

He should have been called Gigantic Arrogant Penis, or under my naming system: Piers Morgan.

A few examples of people renamed under my system:

  • Justin Bieber: Annoying Little Prick.
  • Taylor Swift: Annoying Chick.
  • Miley Cyrus: Annoying Chick Who’s Frequently Naked.
  • Kim Kardashian: Undeservedly Famous Chick Who’s Frequently Naked.
  • Kayne West: Mr. Undeservedly Famous Chick Who’s Frequently Naked.
  • North West: Little Girl Routinely Picked On In School Because Her Parents Are Idiots. (Mine is only slightly less ridiculous.)
  • Charles Manson: Homicidal Nutbar.
  • Ted Bundy: Charming Homicidal Nutbar.
  • Piers Morgan: Piers Morgan.
  • My aunt: Wart-Faced Witch. (See, declarative.)
miley cyrus

Annoying Chick Who’s Frequently Naked in concert.

The list could go on and on, and it may in a future post.

Until next time,

Guy Who Gets Pepper-Sprayed Far Too Frequently For It To Be Reasonable.

 

10 More Reasons People Unfollow This Blog

top ten

Number 10

I lost virtually all my Neo-Nazi followers after a post entitled: Adolph Hitler: He Was Kind of a Dick.

Note: the few remaining Neo-Nazi followers were driven off by my series of posts about Kosher foods and why they’re awesome.

Number 9

The vicious attacks by members of the Justin Bieber fan club have begun to take their toll. (12-year-old girls are just plain mean.)

Number 8

The entire Piers Morgan fan club, promised vengeance after overreacting to a few innocuous things I wrote about the condescending pompous twit. (Seriously. Both his fans were really pissed.)

Number 7

While Kim Kardashian’s oiled-up nude buttocks didn’t break the internet; it broke something inside me.

Note: The Kardashians as a whole, broke Bruce Jenner.

Number 6

Transgender followers of this blog, offended by my characterization of Bruce Jenner as broken, just hit the unfollow button.

Kardashian

After exhaustively searching the internet, I found a picture of Kim Kardashian fully clothed.

Number 5

Despite its fall in 1991, the influence of the Politburo of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union has lingered.

Note: it’s unclear what effect the highest policy-making government authority in the formerly communist Soviet Union, has had on this blog, but I am certain it’s not good.

Number 4

My undying devotion to Donald Trump has alienated a few followers: Democrats, Republicans, illegal immigrants, former cast members of The Apprentice, and Hair Club for Men members.

Number 3

After my ugly break with the Church of Scientology, Tom Cruise’s army of thugs have been relentless in their opposition of this blog.

Number 2

Although they’re no longer on the air, the Amish Mafia never forgets.

Note: Conversely, the former cast of The Jersey Shore can’t remember what they had for breakfast. (They had scrambled eggs, tequila, and steroids.)

Number 1

After the alcohol induced haze passes, people realize this blog is crap.

Honorable Mention

This post.

Addendum

It is odd the WordPress spell check function doesn’t recognize the word unfollow, but the WordPress site uses the word unfollow? Just asking.

Levi

Get your act together WordPress.

The Top Ten Reasons People Unfollow This Blog

goodbye

Number 10

The medication has finally begun to work.

Number 9

The mimes are beginning to win their battle against me.

Number 8

The overwhelming shame, and the constant hassle of having to delete their browser history has become too much.

Number 7

This blog causes cancer in lab rats. (It kills honey badgers outright.)

Number 6

This blog was hacked by the North Korean government following an unfortunate comment concerning Kim Jong Un’s potato-faced head. (He has a potato-faced head.)

kim jong Un

Mrs. Potato Head is sold separately.

Number 5

Internet privileges have been revoked in the violent offenders wing of Attica. (Evidently this blog is considered currency in maximum security prisons.)

Number 4

An unexpected backlash after the post entitled: Charles Manson: not such a bad guy.

Number 3

As a result of my repeatedly implying in this blog that my aunts are witches, they gathered to vehemently deny those charges…then they put a hex on this blog.

Number 2

People seem to be really pissed off that I shot that lion in Africa.

Note: honestly, I’m a little bit worried this joke will piss people off.

Number 1

The sudden and jarring realization people have as they’re reading this blog: I’m worth more.

mr. potato head

The mustache looks good on you, Kim Jong.

An Idiot’s Bucket List

bucket

Evidently playing in the sand is on my bucket list.

I was recently asked what’s on my bucket list.

I told him I didn’t have any buckets, and if I did, I certainly wouldn’t make a list of them. What am I, some kind of idiot?

I was informed that I am an idiot, and I clearly didn’t know what a bucket list was.

Note: it seems I was also confused about what a bucket is. Evidently chamber pots don’t count.

An idiot’s Bucket List

  • Have a conversation with an attractive woman that doesn’t end with me rinsing the pepper spray from my eyes.
  • Go on a date with an attractive woman.
  • Go on a date with any woman.
  • Overcome my crippling fear of dates (not the dried fruit).
  • Overcome my crippling fear of dates (the dried fruit).
  • Purchase a Ronco food dehydrator, enabling me to reduce a watermelon to the size of a pea without sacrificing an ounce of flavor or nutritional value.
  • I want to invent a machine that enlarges a pea to the size of a watermelon without adding an iota of flavor or nutritional value.
  • Obtain a level of maturity that allows me to not giggle uncontrollably every time I hear the name Lake Titicaca.
  • Obtain a level of maturity that allows me to not giggle uncontrollably every time I hear the word peninsula, because it reminds me of the word penis.

Note: etymologists claim the word peninsula has no derivation from the word penis. I am skeptical. Why are most peninsulas shaped like penis’s?

Entomologists also claim the word peninsula has no derivation from the word penis. But first they enlighten us with some fascinating facts about the Egyptian dung beetle. (Egypt: not a peninsula-not shaped like a penis. Just saying.)

  • I want to punch Justin Bieber in his smug little face.
  • I want to meet Justin Bieber, and subsequently punch him in his smug little face.
  • I want to be dining in a restaurant where Justin Bieber chokes on his meal, and I step in and heroicly save his life…so I can punch him in his smug little face.
  • I’d like to dine in a restaurant where they know me, and there’s only a moderate chance my food will be spat in.
  • I want to go back to the days when I didn’t know what human saliva tastes like.
  • I want to ride a dolphin, but a porpoise will do.
  • I want to know the difference between a dolphin and a porpoise.
  • I want to operate a boat without every other passenger on the boat fearing for their lives.
  • I want to stand on the Great Wall of China, turn to person next to me, and declare, “let’s see the neighbor’s dog crap on my lawn now.”
  • I want to finish the Eiffel Tower, but do a really crappy job.
  • I want to make a mime talk…and if at all possible, cry.
  • I want to write an opera in Italian.
  • I want to learn how to write in Italian.
  • I want to make the fat lady sing, or at least choose a more sensible diet.
  • I want to discover indisputable evidence that Bigfoot exists, then destroy it, so I’m the only one who really knows.
  • I want to come up with an idea that leads to world peace.
  • I want to amend the previous item on this list.
  • I want to come up with an idea that makes me filthy rich, and if the whole world peace thing also happens, that’s fine too…I guess.
  • I just want a bucket. (But not to pee in, that’s a chamber pot.)

    chamber pot

    A chamber pot: the perfect place to put this list.

Where is the Toad-Licker Justice?

toad licker

A close friend of Richard Mullins.

The Story

An Indiana man who was licking a toad while dancing by himself on an Indiana sidewalk is locked up after ignoring a trespass warning issued by cops, according to police.

Note: if he had a toad, surely he wasn’t dancing by himself.

La Porte Police Department officers were called to a bar when Richard Mullins, 41, refused to leave the property after being escorted outside by security. The barefoot Mullins was not allowed entry into JJ’s Side Out Bar and Grill, when he would not provide bouncers with ID…also, he was licking a toad.

toad licker

Richard Mullins: dance enthusiast, toad-licker, and Tchaikovsky fan.

When questioned by cops, Mullins had a “blank look on his face but no pupil dilation to suggest he was under the influence of any drugs.”

The toad had a look of simple resignation on his face.

Officers warned Mullins that if he returned to the bar’s property he would be arrested. Mullins seemed to understand the warning. “As he was dancing he would walk right up to the property line that we pointed out and then he would retreat, often by executing a perfect Grande Jete,” an officer stated. “He also had a wonderful arabesque…it was simply breathtaking.” The officer then wiped a tear from his eye.

But a few minutes after receiving the trespass warning, Mullins returned to the bar’s parking lot. When police subsequently approached Mullins, he was holding another toad. He also seemed to be performing the part of Odette from Swan Lake. Possibly a scene from act 4 where Odette has resigned herself to death. Responding officers couldn’t be certain of this, as he seemed to be performing the Mariinsky Ballet version, in which everybody knows: Odette lives happily.

Charged with misdemeanor trespassing, amphibian assault, and just acting like a weirdo, Mullins was booked into the La Porte County jail, where he is being held in advance of a June 30 court appearance.

The toads opted for separate legal council.

Since the police report does not identify what kind of toad Mullins was licking, it is impossible to determine the amphibian’s potential psychoactive properties or its toxicity.

The toads however were completely stoned as a result of contact with Mullins’ tongue.

The Point

When will the blatant discrimination against toad-lickers stop?

For far too long toad-lickers have been the targets of police brutality.

If you’re denied entrance into an establishment because of your race: discrimination!

If you’re denied entrance into an establishment because of your sexual orientaion: discrimination!

If you’re denied entrance into an establishment because you’re licking a toad, barefoot, and slightly odd looking: perfectly well and fine in our backwards society.

How is it anybody’s business what a grown man and his toad do together?

Where’s the Supreme Court on this issue?

Isn’t it time as a people, we give toad-lickers the respect they deserve?

Thank you.

Addendum

If you’re denied entrance into an establishment because you’re Justin Bieber: well that’s pretty much just common sense.

bieber toad licker

“When I lick a toad…I forgot what I was going to say.”

So I’ve Ruffled Some Feathers

 

mad baby

“My feathers have been sufficiently ruffled.”

It seems I’ve ruffled some feathers.

Some big, fat, whiny, bitchy, crybaby feathers.

It’s not that this blog hasn’t generated negative reactions in the past. It has, and that disapproval has been manifest in many forms:

  • Through the WordPress comments function.
  • By email.
  • Unfriending me on Facebook.
  • Friending me on Facebook for the sole purpose of unfriending me.
  • Tweeting about me with the hashtag: jackass.
  • Sniper fire.
  • I’ve been accosted by mimes. (They don’t say much, but their gesticulated scorn is withering.)
  • Women flee at the sight of me. (To be frank, this was happening long before I started this blog.)
  • Small children bite me with their sharp little adolescent teeth.
  • A vicious diatribe was nailed to my front door, written in blood. (This one surprised me; Grandma needs all the blood she has.)
  • Random baboon attacks.
  • Skywriting.
  • Strategically placed billboards with shockingly filthy messages.
  • The song “You Suck” is constantly being dedicated to me on the radio.
  • Vitriolic letters to the editor of The Bolivian Free Press. (The Bolivian Free Press is an odd name for a newspaper in a country where the primary language isn’t English. It’s almost as though I made it up.)
  • Llamas spit at me, then act like it was an accident.
  • I get junk mail addressed to: That Ass Who Writes The Blog.
  • The letters in my alphabet soup randomly form death threats.
  • I am frequently presented with that time honored and always effective middle finger.

But it was the following passage from a recent post, Home is Where the Heart is…and a Bit of Predator, in which I detailed reasons my hometown is awesome, that has caused the cheese to slide off the crackers of a few people:

Reason #4: my aunts and uncles

If modern cinema and television have taught us anything through mega-hits such as Harry Potter, Twilight, and The Walking Dead, it’s that witches, vampires, werewolves, and various incarnations of the undead, are quite popular in current culture.

The town of Westfield, NY is polluted with my aunts and uncles.

Note: you get what I’m implying.

It has been suggested that this passage is defamatory, and this blog is guilty of slander.

That is ridiculous–defamation in written form is clearly libel.

Note: seriously, if you don’t know the difference between slander and libel, you shouldn’t run around all willy-nilly accusing anyone of either.

Nevertheless, a few points of clarification.

None of my aunts or uncles are werewolves. Sure their behavior is a tad monstrous when the moon is full, but it’s monstrous during all phases of the moon. They’re not any better when the sun is up…I guess my point is it’s pretty much a perpetual state.

None of my aunts or uncles are vampires; they’re bloodsuckers of an entirely different ilk.

None of my aunts or uncles are members of the undead. The stench of rotting flesh that follows when they arrive, and their seeming inability to communicate in even monosyllabic fashion, are probably just coincidences.

Witches? Granted, I’m not referring to the type of stereotypical green-skinned, broom-traversing witches such the wicked witches from the Wizard of Oz.  However…

Note: if only I could dispatch them with a bucket of water.

Remember this one important thing: it isn’t libel if it’s true.

Addendum

Wouldn’t it be awesome to have a troop of flying monkeys to do your bidding?

flying monkey

A flying monkey toting Toto. (Not the rock group, he’d need a bigger basket.)

Rodeo Clowns, Boy Bands, and a Pissed Off Bull

“Is that N’ Sync I hear?”

Bulls are huge, powerfully built animals with menacing horns, devastating hooves, and an unflinching desire to be left alone.

Bull-riders, by comparison, are sweaty little cowboys who feel it’s heroic to climb onto the backs of bulls, regardless of how irritating it is to the bull.

Bulls have names like Destroyer, The Widow-Maker, and The Mauler.

Bull-riders have names like Bucky, Earl, and that guy who used have testicles.

Bulls are simple animals, content to stand around and chew their cud, occasionally pausing to pee on the dirt.

Bull-riders are simple people, content to stand around and chew tobacco, occasionally pausing to pee on the dirt.

The only thing in which bulls truly revel is inflicting life threatening injuries upon things that annoy them.

Bull-riders annoy them.

The only things that bulls hate more than bull-riders are rodeo clowns, the Kardashians, and boy bands.

Note: it should be mentioned–the entire animal kingdom hates boy bands…especially badgers.

angry badgers

We’re coming for you Timberlake.

The sanctioned amount of time a bull-rider must stay on the bull is eight seconds. It was found to be the amount of time it takes the average person to look up, do a double take, gape momentarily, then utter the phrase: “would you look at what that idiot over there is doing.”

The bull-rider sneaks up behind the bull while it’s minding its own business, peeing in the dirt, enjoying a moment of quiet reflection, and he scrabbles onto the bull’s back.

The bull is then released into the arena where storms around in a state of agitation as it attempts to repel the annoyance that has so rudely interrupted his peeing.

Note: a bull in a state of agitation, closely resembles any other creature in a blind rage…or Charlie Sheen on a good day.

Meanwhile the bull-rider is being thrashed about like a rag doll.

The bull swiftly dislodges the annoyance, launching him through the air. The annoyance crashes to the ground, tumbles several feet and skids to a halt.

He displaces an impressive amount of manure filled dirt with his face.

His teeth continue on for several more feet.

As the bull-rider staggers to his feet, dazed and unsure of what’s happening, the bull finishes peeing then turns to face him.

The bull lowers its horns and beats its hooves at the dirt; a malevolent glint appears in its dark animal eyes.

As in any time of great crisis, men wearing make-up are called upon to save the day: the rodeo clowns are deployed.

They dance around the bull, taunting and mocking it (evidently the bull is not pissed-off enough yet) until they can lure the bull’s attention away from the bull-rider.

Sensing that their efforts are falling short, they form a line and belt out an N’sync medley.

The bull becomes so confused with rage that it charges into the stands and heads straight for Kim Kardashian and Kayne West, who just happen to be in attendance.

The bull gruesomely gores Kim Kardashian’s butt, which for some unexplained reason, was fully nude and oiled-up.

The crowd cheers wildly.

The bull-rider is saved; the rodeo clowns are showered with cheers and adulation. It seems that all is well, until a pack of frenzied badgers pour into the arena and savagely attack the rodeo clowns.

After several moments of shrill screams and wild chittering, the badgers flee as quickly as they appeared.

The rodeo clowns lie in the dirt, bloody and defeated, their painted on smiles betraying them.

bull

“You’re dressing oddly these days Kayne.”

Somewhere in the deep recesses of it’s mind, the bull feels a deep sense of satisfaction.

Home is Where the Heart is…and a Bit of Predator

Westfield ny

Home is where the heart is…in fact, that’s where I keep most of my shit.  –Pliny the Elder (slightly paraphrased)

This post is about my hometown, and five reasons why it is awesome. (This post is not about modesty.)

Reason #1: the best chicken wings on the planet

Western New York is really good at two things: lake effect snow and chicken wings. Lake effect snow sucks, but chicken wings are great. And the best chicken wings on the planet can be found in Westfield, NY at Larry’s Cantina.

How do I know the chicken wings at Larry’s Cantina are the best on the planet? Because I am a chicken wing expert. (Did I mention this post is not about modesty?)

Note: I can’t vouch for the chicken wings on other planets; I’m sure the chicken wings on that planet Predator is from are badass.

Predator

“Our chicken wings are badass.”

Reason #2: Mad Dog 20/20

mad dog

That’s right, Mad Dog 20/20 is produced in my hometown by Mogen David. Mad Dog 20/20 is classified as a flavored fortified wine. Flavored fortified wines are sometimes referred to as “bum wines” by cynics. Cynics can bite me. (This post is not about tact.)

The Urban Dictionary claims it’s the drink high school kids sneak off to the rock quarry to drink. That’s ridiculous…it was a gorge.

Mad Dog 20/20 has numerous virtues:

  • It’s practically a cure for not having liver disease.
  • It relieves you of that pesky problem of having too many brain cells.
  • It would survive a nuclear holocaust.
  • It comes in several delicious artificial flavors and colors that glow in the dark.
  • If you’ve ever wondered what the sweetest thing in the world is: there’s your answer.
  • Predator loves it.
Predator

“Mad Dog 20/20 is badass.”

Reason #3: Grace Bedell

Bedell

Grace Bedell statue in Westfield, NY.

On October 15, 1860, a few weeks before Lincoln was elected President of the United States, Grace Bedell sent him a letter from Westfield, New York, urging him to grow a beard to improve his appearance. Lincoln responded in a letter on October 19, 1860, making no promises. However, within a month, he grew a full beard.

His inaugural trip from Illinios to Washington D.C. took him through Westfield, NY where he stopped to meet Grace.

Grace later recounted the events:

“He climbed down and sat down with me on the edge of the station platform,” she recalled. “‘Gracie,’ he said, ‘look at my whiskers. I have been growing them for you.’ Then he kissed me. I never saw him again.”

I know what you’re thinking: that’s a sweet story, but it would have been more impressive if she had written something like:

Dear Mr. Lincoln, if you should become president, this slavery thing really has to go.

P.S.  Avoid the theater.

Hey, it’s our thing–leave it alone!

Predator

“Grace Bedell is badass.”

Reason #4: my aunts and uncles

If modern cinema and television have taught us anything through mega-hits such as Harry Potter, Twilight, and The Walking Dead, it’s that witches, vampires, werewolves, and various incarnations of the undead, are quite popular in current culture.

The town of Westfield, NY is polluted with my aunts and uncles.

Note: you get what I’m implying.

Reason #5: simply put: it’s my hometown and that makes it awesome (this post is not about modesty or tact)

This blog is read by thousands of intelligent and influential people (a few of which aren’t imaginary).

And since this is my blog: I make the rules. And according to those rules, that makes my hometown awesome.

Note: I’ve heard this blog is wildly successful on Predator’s planet.

Predator

“idiotprufs is badass.”

Addendum

Westfield, NY is also awesome because there are absolutely no mimes there.

There was one once, but we took care of that.

Westfield, NY

Westfield, NY: notice the dearth of mimes.

Elizabeth Gomez: Inappropriate Sentiments for Greeting Cards

idiotprufs:

I find all of these to be completely appropriate.

Originally posted on Drinkers with Writing Problems:

  1. Birthday: It’s Your Birthday…I slept with your grandmother. We’re getting married.

  2. I’m Sorry: For sleeping with your grandmother, marrying her, and stealing away your inheritance. Love from Cabo!

  3. Anniversary: Happy Anniversary to the Man I Love…I hope my husband never finds out. LOL!

  4. Happy Easter: Praise be to the Lord, He has Risen…ALL LAMBS SHOULD DIE! Then sprinkle with rosemary and thyme for a delicious dinner celebrating Christ.

  5. Congratulations: You’ve graduated high school!…Now, try to get through college without a cocaine addiction.

  6. Thank You: Thank You…for giving me something that will be in next month’s yard sale.

  7. New Baby: God has blessed you with a baby…Let’s hope your wife doesn’t drown it.

  8. Get Well Soon: May God bless you with a speedy recovery…but then I hope you get hit by a car when you leave the hospital because I love watching you suffer.

  9. Thinking of You: I’ve been thinking of…

View original 101 more words

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