In a joint statement, Erie’s four sister cities have announced that they are ending their familial relationship with Erie, at least for the time being. The four sister cities: Zibo, China; Lublin, Poland; Merida, Mexico; and Dungarvan, Ireland made the announcement after seeing recent stories coming out of Erie about job losses, drug overdoses, and […]
via Erie’s Sister Cities to Rescind Sibling Status — gooferie
“I hope no one saw me.”
A resident of the great commonwealth of Pennsylvania has reported to police that his 1973 Winnebago motor home was vandalized by a Bigfoot. The windows and tail lights were broken out with what he described as a fusillade of rocks.
Note: isn’t fusillade a fun word to use?
In the police report the suspect was described as, “very large, brown in color, and walks somewhat hunched over.” The victim was unable to describe whether or not the attacker “was hairy” investigators added.
Evidently in an attempt to avoid discovery the ape-like creature began to hurl rocks at the Winnebago.
Note: avoiding discovery is only 8th or 9th on my list of reasons to hurl rocks at things.
In an odd coincidence, it seems the victim happens to be a Bigfoot hunter and has a Facebook group devoted to such. His Facebook page offers some advice if you come face-to-face with a Sasquatch. Here are couple of gems, copied exactly as he wrote them:
Bigfoot tip #1: when being chased by a sasquatch run up hill if its a male .. they have an extended forehead so they have to stop offten to look up.
Note: I don’t know if the victim pronounces the T in often, but he obviously adds an extra F.
Bigfoot tip #2: if its a female run down hill they have no bras so they got big ole lady boobs and when running downhill they flop about and they have to stop to plop them over their shoulders…..
Note: I hope that image is now seared into your brain.
Here in the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania we are simply bursting with pride.
The preferred weapon of Bigfoot.
One test subject; look how freaking happy he is.
(image source: wpclipart.com)
I’ve finally done it.
I’ve developed a permanent and foolproof cure for athlete’s foot.
It’s brilliant in its concept, and elegant in its simplicity.
For the small cost of just $99.99, (with an unreasonably exorbitant shipping and handling cost, which I will inform of after you’ve made the purchase) I will send you my product.
The kit includes the following items:
Note: For a small additional cost, I will send you the jumbo sized bottle of aspirin, you’re probably going to need it. If you should happen to have any morphine lying around the house, that would be good too.
Imagine all the ways that using my product can make your life better:
Note: your aunt’s presence has already ruined Thanksgiving; she’s an ogre.
There are a few slight drawbacks in the use of my product; all of which, I will inform you of in tiny unreadable print that scrolls across the bottom of screen at light speed.
Some of these slight problems are:
All I need now is approval from the FDA. Unfortunately this has been far more difficult than I had anticipated. The people at the FDA are really uptight and condescending, and they tend to throw around words like irresponsible and unthinkable, a great deal more than is necessary.
It’s been a long process, but according to one source from the FDA, all I’m waiting on now is a cold day in Hell.
My product would result in another happy customer, and a tasty appetizer.
(image source: wpclipart.com)
I have also been working on a permanent cure for jock itch. Those results haven’t been quite as promising.
(image source: wpclipart.com)
A lovely family having a picnic–this is not your family.
The big family picnic has hit your community like a tsunami and is now slowly receding back into the ocean.
Your local emergency room has been taken off high alert and much of their staff has been given a well deserved vacation.
Once again your family has overtaxed their staff, frayed their nerves, and extinguished their stock of gauze, sutures and eye patches.
They’ve treated various members of your family for the following injuries, ailments, and assorted issues:
The source of many of the problems was your uncle and his trunk full of games/weapons:
Once again your aunt has brought a cauldron of potato salad with way too much eye-of-newt in it. It results in stomach cramps, vomiting, and explosive diarrhea. Also, your cousin grows a tail.
Your aunt claims she had nothing to do with the locust swarm, but it seems like a bit of a coincidence that it happens every year.
Another aunt accosts you because you told her daughter that if she ate a dragonfly she would turn into a dragon.
Note: Have you ever eaten a dragonfly? You don’t know this isn’t true.
Your uncle–the volunteer firefighter–has inadvertently set fire to himself, a pavilion, and an old-growth forest. Unfortunately your uncle was only one still standing at the end of the day.
As the big family picnic passes and dissolves into repressed memories and a series of panic filled nightmares, your only hope is that all the injuries–apart from some of the more radical skin grafts–heal before the next big family picnic.
Your family seems horrible.
I’m just saying.
Doesn’t every family’s picnics involve a swarm of locusts?
This blog is veritable cornucopia of useful information.
In a previous post entitled: Just a Few Idiotprufs, the following passage appeared.
Don’t try to remove a hornet’s nest from your garage by burning it out; you will wind up with half a garage and a hornet’s nest.
If Mike Tingley of Grand Blanc Township, Michigan, had read that blog post maybe this wouldn’t have happened:
“That’ll take care of those bees.”
“The homeowner was doing something with a smoke bomb trying to get a bees nest out of the garage,” said Grand Blanc Fire Chief, Bob Burdette.
Mr. Tingley, while upset his garage has burned to the ground, is happy the bees are gone.
Mr. Tingley’s neighbor, whose garage is now the home for the bees in question and whose own house suffered a great deal of smoke damage, had the following to say about the incident: Mike’s always been a #$@$%@# idiot.
“We’ll be staying on high alert,” Fire Chief Burdette commented. “Evidently Mr. Tingley has 20 gallons of gasoline, a blowtorch, and a plan for getting rid of the carpenter ants infesting his front porch.”
The Fire Chief then paused for a moment before adding, “I certainly hope none of his children ever contract head lice.”
(I was actually miming a carrot, but they thought it was a knife–stupid mimes.)
I was recently asked if I ever get writer’s block.
Of course I don’t; it’s what’s great about having a blog as stupid as this one: I can write whatever nonsensical gibberish pops into my head.
Take for example, the following passage from a post about phobias:
Walloonphobia: the fear of Walloons. Walloons can burst at any moment making a loud popping sound and startling you.
(My apologies, I thought this was the fear of balloons. Walloons are the French-speaking population of Belgium; it’s perfectly normal to be startled when Walloons burst and make a loud popping noise.)
What kind of stupid scattered brain comes up with that?
I’ve worked very hard to set a low a standard as possible for this blog while still forming semi-coherent sentences.
But it hasn’t been just my hard work and dedication responsible for the ridiculously substandard tangle of words before you. I’ve been genetically blessed with an extended family of what could be described generously as complete imbeciles.
Aunts, uncles, and cousins so completely and impenetrably stupid, there was really no way for it to not to filter to me. Even as I’m typing this, I’m drooling uncontrollably and I have peed myself because can’t remember how to use the bathroom.
Have you ever seen a tree with most of its branches rotting and riddled with an infectious disease. A disease so heinous the tree needs to be cut down, chopped into bits, burned, and its ashes buried in a deep hole under three feet of reinforced concrete, just to preserve the rest of forest.
That tree is healthy compared to our family tree–we wish we were that tree. Sometimes we’ll get together, drool on ourselves, pee ourselves, and scrapbook about how much we wish we were that diseased tree.
I will give you this assurance: I long as I am authoring this blog it will remain awful. And if you should happen to run into any of my aunts or uncles, give them a hardy thank you.
But don’t touch them–they tend to be sticky.
We wish we were this tree.
Don’t let the happy face fool you; this is a vicious monster.
Do you remember as a child, adults would bandy about that old saw that a bee would only sting if you provoked? Do you also remember the dissemination of that bit of information generally came moments after being stung by a bee?
I recall an instance in my childhood, sitting in my backyard, quietly playing in a manner that could be readily described as angelic, when a bee decided it had become sufficiently provoked. My youthful playtime came to an abrupt halt with the introduction of searing pain to the side of head.
I went in search of sympathy, only to find an accusatory tone. Unfortunately two of my aunts were visiting.
“What did you do to it?” The first asked in her typically snide voice.
“What did I do to it?” She was obviously confused by the sequence of events.
“You must have provoked it,” the other chimed in, with her less snide, but decidedly more mannish voice.
Note: my aunts’ inability to recognize a child playing in a manner that could be readily described as angelic, likely stems from their own entirely unangelic nature…they’re really bitchy.
Informed by this experience, I watched in amusement as a tour guide on a travel show condescendingly told Vinny from Yonkers, “don’t be alarmed by that stingray brushing against your leg, they only attack when they’re angry or provoked.”
Vinny from Yonkers response was to act alarmed. He then gave the tour guide a look that generally precedes a punch in the face.
Any animal in which the word “sting” is prominent in its name, is probably an animal of which to be wary. It is generally wise to approach anything with the ability to sting, with caution.
Things that sting:
Also, how would you go about determining the mental state of a stingray? I’ve never seen one that appeared happy-go-lucky.
It’s probably hard being a big flat fish living on the bottom of the ocean, always afraid that some fat tourist named Vinny will step on your back.
Stingrays have their mouths and nostrils situated on their underbellies; that cannot be a pleasant way to exist.
And have you seen what stingrays look like? They’re all crazy ugly; stingray sex must be just awful.
A stingray’s sting can result in extreme pain, illness, the amputation of affected limbs, and in extreme cases, death.
Note: if you’re a condescending tour guide, they can also cause you to get punched in the face by a guy from Yonkers named Vinny.
Any animal that on a whim can cause my life to end, is by my way of thinking, a source of alarm.
Or is it possible that you could run into a stingray with a sense of humor; a stingray that finds it amusing to sting a condescending tour guide.
Either way, you should be careful before you smugly tell someone not to be alarmed. You could be dealing with a stingray with a sense of humor, or guy named Vinny without one.
My sex life is just atrocious.
Millcreek Community Hospital has announced the grand opening of their new Leeching and Bloodletting Department. This new wing will be located within the current facility on Peach Street. Hospital spokesman Ross Sewitch says “We here at Millcreek Community realized the need to expand patient care in order to become more competitive with Erie’s two legitimate hospitals.” Sewitch went on to say that the leeches will be locally sourced directly from Mill Creek which runs just outside the facility and that the bloodletting equipment will be sterilized “every so often.” When asked what conditions will be treated by the new department, Sewitch answered “Oh you name it; cholera, consumption, rickets, dropsy.” Sewitch went to say that, “No other healthcare facility in this area has this kind of service. Does Hamot have the right equipment to cure scurvy? Can St. Vincent’s stop bubonic plague in its tracks? I don’t think so.”
Experts will tell you that hiccups are a myoclonus of the diaphragm, that results in an abrupt rush of air into the lungs. You get them when the vagus nerve, which runs from the brain to the abdomen, is irritated. They are most commonly the result of digestive disturbances.
Well that’s just crazy talk–everyone knows hiccups are caused by gremlins.
There are some who will tell you that gremlins don’t exist; people who think they’re so much smarter than you.
They think they’re smarter because they have years of medical training, or they’ve read books, or they’ve never been described as “bat crap crazy” by a certified mental health professional.
Some think they’re smarter because they’ve never been arrested for slapping a mime in the face, or for urinating on a police car.
But does that make them smarter than you?
It Probably does, but you still shouldn’t listen to them: can you really trust a person who’s never slapped a mime in the face?
But now you have hiccups–how do you get rid of them?
After doing an extensive amount of research I’ve unearthed several potential hiccup remedies.
This is the point: hiccups cannot be cured, they are caused by gremlins. You simply have to wait for the gremlins to tire, or get bored–it’s science.
Not this type of Gremlin.
This type of gremlin.
