idiotprufs

Illegal in 38 states–frowned upon in the rest.

Well–Now You’ve Blown It

sad balloonOne of your key resolutions this New Year was to stop wasting your time reading dreadful blogs devoid of intellectual value of any kind.

The type of blog written by a pasty-faced geek with zero social grace.

The type of blog that burrows into your brain, takes root, and festers until it has transformed you into a drooling half-wit.

Well–you’ve blown it now haven’t you?

You’d might as well crack open that bottle of Jack Daniels, rip open that pack of Camels, and start eating cookie dough straight from the tube, because you’ve just taken the first step into a spiraling abyss.

Better luck next year.

mr creasote

This is what this blog does.

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Love Hurts, but Not as Much as a Stab Wound

love hurts

I felt it was time to re-post these beautiful and poignant words.

I wrote this during a period of deep personal healing…but mostly I was drunk.

 

Pan Changes Instrument of Choice

pan flute

Pan in his pre-banjo days.

Arcadia, Greece–After centuries of regaling the woodland creatures of Arcadia with his famous pan flute, Pan has decided it’s time for a change. He has decided his musical growth has become stagnant and  has decided to dump the flute.

“The flute wasn’t really getting it done with the nymphs anymore,” Pan explained. Pan’s new instrument of choice: the banjo.

Reaction to Pan’s sudden switch in musical instruments has been less than favorable. “Even I can’t get away fast enough when he starts banging on that thing…and I’ve got wings on my feet,” his father Hermes confided.

“He’s my son and I will always support anything he does,” his mother, a woodland nymph, told us. “But seriously, I’m about to smash that thing against a tree.”

Undaunted by the criticism, Pan plans to press forward with the banjo and tour Greece with his own bluegrass band.

hermes

Pan’s father fleeing from his banjo picking.

Eyebrows Count

big eye browsIn my last post I suggested it unwise, on a first date, to spend an inordinate amount of time bragging about how many times you’ve accidentally set yourself on fire.

Allow me to clarify: a first date isn’t the only time it’s unwise to brag about how many times you’ve accidentally set yourself on fire.

I could provide a lengthy list of times and places it’s unwise to brag about how many times you’ve accidentally set yourself on fire. Allow me to condense it to this: don’t at any time or in any setting, brag about how many times you’ve accidentally set yourself on fire.

One example: Don’t brag about how many times you’ve accidentally set yourself on fire during your job interview at the propane store…just don’t.

If you’re reading this and thinking that this is all perfectly obvious and doesn’t need to be said; I have one thought to convey to you: you don’t know the same people I know. (And count yourself lucky.)

And this includes bragging about accidentally setting other people on fire…that’s just rude.

Buildings too–structure fires are very dangerous.

One final point of clarification: bragging about how many times you’ve accidentally burned off your eyebrows counts as bragging about accidentally setting yourself on fire.

I’m tired of hearing you brag that you’ve burned off your facial hair so many times you longer have to shave.

I hope this bit of clarification has been helpful.

Addendum:

If you’re that person who is trying to start a fire and you think to yourself: two or three gallons of gasoline ought to do the trick. Just go ahead and step away.

gasoline can

At least to two or three gallons should do it.

First Impressions

pigpen peanuts charlie brown

You’re ready for that big date.

Have you ever been preparing to go on a first date and had someone give you the following advice: just be yourself?

Did that piece of advice give you the confidence you needed?

Well it shouldn’t–you’re a dreadful person.

That advice is the type of pabulum you’d get from a cheap greeting card written by a half-wit and given to you by someone who pretends to care about you, but who secretly plots your demise. (Grandma is quite devious.)

The facts:

  • You make a bad first impression.
  • You make a bad second impression.
  • You make a third impression that is shockingly worse than the first two.
  • You make a fourth impression that is better than the first three, but still lacking.
  • The fifth time people meet you they attack you with a claw hammer.
  • You smell like beets and goat urine.
  • Unsurprisingly, much of your wardrobe is stained with beet juice, goat urine, and a green goo you’ve yet to identify.
  • You pepper your speech with the phrase, “that’s what she said.”
  • You attempt to impress your date with your mastery of the Klingon language. (Even Klingon women find this unimpressive.)
  • Your ability to belch the theme to Gilligan’s Island is less of an aphrodisiac than you perceive it to be.
  • When you pee it whistles. (This probably won’t be an issue on a first date, but you should seriously have that looked into.)
  • Peppermint schnapps is not a satisfactory alternative to good oral hygiene.
  • Constantly griping about how handicapped people get all the good parking spots isn’t a good look.
  • Nobody cares about your collection of toenail clippings and they certainly don’t need to see pictures of it.
  • You spend far too much time bragging about how many times you’ve accidentally set yourself on fire.
  • Quite frankly–you’re just a dick.

So my advice to you (apart from adopting celibacy) is to be as far from yourself as you can possibly be.

If radical plastic surgery and hypnosis aides you in being as far from yourself as possible: I’m all in on that.

Good luck on that first date…hopefully you won’t get pepper-sprayed.

man pepper spray

Yeah, that’s how I thought it would go.

Lake Effect Snow Dries Up Lake Erie

gooferie

crater3For the first time in recorded history, Lake Erie is empty due to all the water being turned into lake effect snow which has blanketed the city of Erie.

“As we know, when cold air moves over the lake, it picks up water and deposits it as snow, “ said Meteorologist Dr. Patrick Timmells of the National Weather Service in Cleveland. “Since Erie is the shallowest of the Great Lakes, it only took a few heavy snow bands to completely drain it.”

93-year-old John Fay, a lifelong Erie resident, says he’s never seen anything like this. “This is worse than December of 1944. Back then, only half the lake was drained. My buddy and I waded to Canada and back.”

One local fisherman plans to take advantage of the situation. “I won’t even have to take my boat off the trailer, “said Frank “Mooneye” Kapitsky. “There should be a lot…

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Woefully Inadequate Preparation

 

pythagorean theorem

Useless knowledge when you’re about to be cut.

This occurred while I was working as a quality control inspector at a steel coating plant near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I was sitting at my desk filling out paperwork–paperwork that I’m sure was vital to the daily functioning of the plant, and not be interrupted–when the crane operator, Jim, burst into the office.

“We have a problem,” he barked.

Jim tended to have problems more days than not. Urgent problems. Urgent problems of all varieties. (I could tell it was urgent because Jim was using his urgent voice. His urgent voice was similar to his whiny voice, but an octave higher.)

I looked around the office to discover I was the only one there. Crap.

“Houston,” I said to him.

“What?”

“When you burst into a room to exclaim that you have a problem, you’re supposed to say, ‘Houston, we have a problem.'”

“But we’re not in Houston.”

Note: nobody gets me.

“Never mind. What’s the problem?” I asked with genuinely feigned interest.

“Look at this,” he said as he shoved his phone at me. It was a picture of some temp workers standing outside on a smoke break.

“It’s a picture of some temp workers standing outside on a smoke break.” I said.

“You don’t see the problem?” He was incredulous.

“The threat of emphysema?”

“Look closer.” He shoved the phone at me again.

“Okay. They’re all smoking cigarettes, except for that little guy who seems to be holding…a crack pipe.”

“So you understand the problem now?”

“He’s not sharing with the others?”

“This is serious,” he snapped.

“Selfishness is a serious problem, Jim,” I admonished him.

“I can’t be operating a crane out there with people running around all hopped up on drugs.”

“Do people still use the phrase hopped up?”

“Are you going to do something or not?”

“Where’s Rick?” I asked. “He’s loud and obnoxious and loves to yell at people.”

Rick was the foreman, he was loud and obnoxious and loved to yell at people.

“He called off today,” Jim told me.

Note: It’s so rare that you’re in want of a person who is loud and obnoxious and loves to yell at people, but the one time you are, he’s not around. I once asked the owner why he made Rick the foreman. He told me that Rick was too stupid to do anything useful, but he was good at yelling at people, so he made him the foreman. Just another reason the Pittsburgh steel industry is thriving–in Japan.

My immediate boss was also off that day. This was horrible luck for me since I mainly dealt with readings, measurements, recording data and that type of thing. What I didn’t deal with were problems that could lead to me being stabbed in the side of head.

I approached the person in question. He was a little guy with glasses. He looked like Mr. Peabody if Mr. Peabody were a crackhead and not a cartoon dog. He was sweating profusely and his eyes were darting back and forth.

Mr. Peabody (probably not on crack)

“We won’t be needing you for the rest of the day, so you can go home now,” I told him, hoping that he would just acquiesce and leave.

“Why?” He demanded.

“We just don’t need you.”

He leaned into me, and growled in a slow deep voice, “is it because of the leprechauns?”

I gaped like an idiot.

“It’s the leprechauns isn’t it?” He persisted.

“No. It has nothing to do with the leprechauns.” I spoke slowly. “It’s more that you smoked crack on your break.” I felt at that point, honesty wasn’t going to make the situation any worse.

“Is that what the leprechauns told you?” He screamed. “The leprechauns lie!” Then he produced a razor blade from his pocket and held it to my face.

Evidently honesty could make things much worse.

He then gave me a very strange look and asked in a near whisper, “are you a leprechaun?”

You’re never really prepared for the first time someone asks you if you’re leprechaun. The public schools are woefully inadequate in such preparation. Knowing how to diagram a sentence or use the Pythagorean theorem are useless abilities when you’re about to be cut.

So I said the only thing my agile brain could produce: “I’m not even wearing green.”

Luckily for me (almost leprechaun lucky) Mr. Peabody became so fearful of leprechauns, he left on his own without incident.

But the next time someone asks me if I’m a leprechaun–I’ll be prepared.

My true identity.

Christmas and Rutabagas

rutabaga

It’s Christmastime again: the perfect opportunity to brighten the spirits of a loved one with the gift of the rutabaga.

What’s so special about the rutabaga you may ponder–what isn’t so special about the rutabaga is my response.

  • They can be roasted.
  • They can be baked.
  • They can be boiled as a flavor enhancer in soups.
  • They can be boiled as a flavour enhancer in soups in Great Britain. (You wouldn’t believe how much tastier the soup is with that extra U in the word flavour.)
  • They can be thinly julienned as a side dish, in a salad or as a garnish.
  • They can be thinly julienned and used to cleanup oil spills in the driveway.
  • They can be mashed into a paste and used to degrease engines.
  • They can be mashed into a paste and used as a beautifying face cream. (It won’t make you more attractive, but it will cover up your butt-ugly face.)
  • You can make rutabaga ice cream.
  • You can make a rudimentary boiled rutabaga stew that was a staple of famine ridden Europe during the war and pretend you’re living in famine ridden Europe during the war–because pretending is fun.
  • You can chuck them at Kayne West’s head. (It’s such a huge bloated target.)
  • You can chuck them at the heads of people you’re ambivalent about.
  • You can chuck them at the heads of people you like. (The thunk of a rutabaga bouncing off a human skull is surprisingly satisfying.)
  • You can fill your child’s stocking with them. (But ensure they’re fresh; they can attract flies.)
  • You can use them to attract flies.
  • You can carve them into lanterns as was the old Irish tradition.
  • You can carve them into lanterns and chuck them at Kanye West’s head. (Hopefully the beginnings of a new tradition.)
  • And finally, you can make the traditional Finnish Christmas dish Lanttulaatikko.
rutabaga dish

Lanttulaatikko is a delicious Finnish Christmas dish–you can also chuck it at Kayne West’s head.

Addendum: Don’t make rutabaga ice cream…it sucks.

Origami Chrysanthemums are Hard

condom

Just your average boring penis-shaped condom.

A while ago in a post, Poop Flinging Monkeys and Origami Condoms, I detailed some of the bizarre spending habits of the National Institute of Health. Not the least of which was a 2.4 million dollar grant for the development of an origami condom.

The inventor of the origami condom, Daniel Resnic, claimed that his silicone-based condom was designed to increase sensation, and solve the age old problem that most condoms can’t be folded into the shape of a chrysanthemum.

Alas, Daniel Resnic has been accused of fraud, and ordered to repay the funds.

It’s been alleged that Mr. Resnic misspent millions of taxpayer dollars on trips to Costa Rica, lavish parties at the Playboy mansion, full-body plastic surgery, a condo in Provincetown, Mass., and patents for numerous “get-rich-quick” schemes.

Whether or not one of those “get-rich-quick” schemes involved convincing the National Institute of Health to give him a 2.4 million dollar grant to develop a condom that can be folded into the shape of a chrysanthemum remains undetermined.

Regarding the oddities of some of his expenditures, such as full-body plastic surgery, Mr. Resnic replied, “Do you really think you can fold your penis into the shape of a chrysanthemum without massive plastic surgery–origami chrysanthemums are hard.”

It is rumored that it was an employee of Mr. Resnic who turned over hundreds of pages of documents supporting allegations of fraud.

Note: in an unconfirmed and unsubstantiated rumor–and likely a product of my faulty imagination–it’s reported that the initial scrutiny of Mr. Resnic was brought to bear when the director of the NIH, upon using Mr. Resnic’s origami condom, was unable to unfold his penis from the shape of a chrysanthemum–origami chrysanthemums are hard.

However, Mr. Resnic claims the employee who turned over the documents, is himself guilty of misusing grant funds. He has demanded the employee, “Make restitution to my company of the stolen monies ($487,377.32) at one dollar ($1.oo) /week, by personal check, sent by U.S. mail, until the funds are recovered.”

When asked why he would choose a payment method that would take nearly 10,000 years to complete, he simply replied, “Are you kidding? That’s how long it’s going to take to get my penis untangled–origami chrysanthemums are hard.”

origami flower

Origami chrysanthemums are hard.

Lightning Strikes and Good Luck

lightningRoy Sullivan, a Virginian park ranger, had a strange ability: surviving lightning strikes. He survived seven separate lightning strikes.

  • The first lightning strike hit his leg and knocked the toenail off his big toe.
  • The second lightning strike burned off his eyebrows and knocked him unconscious.
  • The third lightning strike seared his shoulder.
  • The fourth lightning strike set his hair on fire.
  • The fifth lightning strike ripped through his hat, set his hair on fire, and knocked him from his truck wearing only one shoe.
  • The sixth lightning strike injured his ankle.
  • The seventh lightning strike left him with chest and stomach burns.

It lead to the phrase “that Roy is one unlucky bastard” to be uttered many times.

It also lead to the phrase “that Roy is one lucky bastard” to also be uttered after surviving all seven lightning strikes.

It caused countless arguments among his friends and family as to whether or not Roy was lucky or unlucky. At family events they would argue for hours, get into fist fights, and eventually dump their aunt’s potato salad over each other’s heads.

Note: and their aunt’s potato salad was delicious, not like your aunt’s potato salad which tastes like a diseased monkey peed into a bowl of death. 

The only thing they could all agree upon was to stay far away from Roy when a storm approached.

 

 

For your enjoyment: a few photos of Roy Sullivan.

Roy Sullivan and his lightning damaged hat.

 

Roy in a building.

 

Roy sitting in a tree.

 

Roy in his car.

 

Roy visiting the Statue of Liberty.

 

Roy in another tree.

 

Roy standing by some cacti.

 

Roy on the USS Truman.

 

Roy swimming in the ocean.

 

Roy and his twin brother swimming in the ocean.

 

Roy gets elected to Congress.

 

Roy at the Eiffel Tower.

 

Roy on his way home from Paris.

 

Roy at home.

 

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