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idiotprufs

the blog that made the pope laugh so hard he peed himself.

Archive for the month “November, 2017”

Black Friday: You’re not Doing it Right

black friday

If you haven’t been bitten in the face, you’re not doing it right.

Black Friday: the day even genteel old ladies become MMA cage fighters.

Remember: if you have to commit a few misdemeanors and a stray felony or two in the act of acquiring Christmas gifts, it’s perfectly justifiable.

If you’re not engaging in activities that are at the very least, ethically and morally dubious, you’re heart just isn’t into it.

It’s called Black Friday for a reason. It’s not called Rosy Red Cheery Friday, you pansies.

If you’re not out there causing pain, you’re not doing right.

I have a few helpful tips for Black Friday:

  • The first item in your shopping cart should be a meat tenderizer–you need quick access to a weapon that you can later claim to the authorities, was just an item on your shopping list.
  • Beware of air flow before pepper-spraying a fellow shopper/combatant, you don’t want any of that stuff drifting into your own eyes–it really stings.
  • When grappling with an elderly person over an item, don’t hold back just because they appear to be having a heart attack, in my experience they are faking it at least 38% of the time.
  • Don’t be influenced just because a mother is with her child. That child is either a prop meant to endear sympathy, a diversion to distract you, or it’s an attack dog that she will sic on you the moment you get to close to an item she is after. (Little kids are vicious and they have really sharp teeth.)
  • Bite wounds from small children should be attended to immediately–you have no idea what kind of diseases those filthy little potato-faced brats have.
  • Finally, before wrapping a gift intended for a loved one, be sure to remove the price tag or any blood spatter that may be on the item. It’s just rude to give a gift with the price tag and or incriminating DNA still on it.

Remember: the important thing about the season is that you get what you want at the expense of your fellow man.

Final Note: make sure you keep the receipts; that gift you stabbed another human being in the face to get, will likely be returned.

weapon

And you’ve cleaned the blood from it, it makes a great gift.

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Purple Pilgrims and the Death of Artistic Choice

pilgrims

The way Pilgrims are supposed to look…if you have no creativity.

As a child you learn many lessons:

  • Regardless of how far your garden hose sprays, you’re still too close to the hornet’s nest.
  • You never want to discover the quantitative value for the phrase “mad as a hornet.”
  • Regardless of how sturdy it seems, an umbrella is not an adequate substitute for a parachute.
  • Your cousins lie.
  • You can be lying in a crumpled heap, several bones broken, some of them relatively important, and the first thing any adult will think to say is: “look at what you did to my umbrella.”
  • Even though most varieties of snakes are not venomous, you still don’t want them to bite you.
  • Convincing your cousin to let a snake bite him so that you find out whether or not it’s venomous, seems like a good idea, but it will really piss-off your aunt.
  • Did I mention cousins lie.
  • Never utter the phrase “sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never harm me,” to someone who is in possession of sticks or stones. In the savage jungle of playground justice, you will be pelted with a barrage of sticks and stones.
  • When adults say cheaters never prosper, they’re full of it. Cheaters prosper all of the time, mostly because they’re cheating.
  • Don’t melt Play-Doh on the stove. What seems like a voyage of scientific discovery to you, is just wanton destruction to some people.
  • Burning Play-Doh emits a noxious smoke.
  • Smoke alarms are startlingly loud.
  • Melting crayons on the radiator is fun, until your mom finds them.
  • And finally: artistic creativity is not always welcomed.

It happened when I was a first-grader at R.R. Rogers Elementary School in Jamestown, NY.

Our class was making a Thanksgiving Day mural from construction paper. We were broken into groups, my group was tasked with making the Pilgrims.

We immediately found there to be a dearth of orange construction paper, the color used to make the Pilgrims’ faces and hands.

I made a command decision: we’ll use purple construction paper for the Pilgrims faces and hands. “It’ll be avant-garde,” I said.

Note: I’ll bet you don’t think a six-year old would use the word avant-garde. It’s my story, and I’ll tell it the way I want.

Tracy the tattletale strongly objected and ran to inform the teacher, (Tracy was such a conformist) but as a renown tattletale, the teacher simply told her to hush, and just work with the others.

Note: not only was our group saddled with Tracy the tattletale, we also had Keith the paste-eater. It was a nightmare.

We completed our project and handed it in with a great sense of pride and accomplishment.

Our teacher was displeased. It’s difficult to overemphasize just how displeased she was.

“They’re purple,” she shrieked, as if we were a bunch of colorblind idiots.

“We know they’re purple,” we told her, “we’re not kindergarteners.”

As it happened, the mural was going up on the wall for a big parent/teacher thing that night. She’d left that bit of information out of the instructions.

Note: on the heels of Halloween, and our pumpkin making spree, she should have known we’d be low on orange construction paper, which brings me to another important lesson learned: when at all possible, deflect blame.

It was the end of the day, and there was no time to do anything about it, so up they went.

In the end the parents were simply amused by the purple Pilgrims; it seems adults really don’t expect a lot from six-year old children.

Addendum:

I wonder if Salvador Dali’s teacher criticized him for drawing everything all floppy.

floppy watches

At least he didn’t have the gall to make Pilgrims purple.

The Prodigiously Powerful Potentate of Pennsylvania

flagElection day has come and gone and my ballot initiative to become King of Pennsylvania has failed miserably. If I am to be honest, it probably had little chance of passing.

Exit polling revealed some the reasons for the initiative’s poor showing. Respondents said the following:

  • Who?
  • Is that the idiot who’s digging the moat around his house?
  • Seriously, who?
  • I think I pepper-sprayed that guy once.
  • I thought that was a joke–I voted yes. What the hell have I done.
  • Man these genital warts really itch…sorry, what was your question again? Are you sure you don’t want your pencil back?
  • Of course I voted yes; I think it’s a brilliant idea. Besides, the voices in my head told me to vote yes. The voices usually just tell me to kill.

Upon receiving only .0001 percent of the vote, (myself and couple of drunk guys) I’ve decided to change my tactics: I will take the state by force.

Once I have seized control of the state I will implement the following changes:

  • I shall be referred to as: The Prodigiously Powerful Potentate of Pennsylvania.
  • Anyone who doesn’t refer to me as The Prodigiously Powerful Potentate of Pennsylvania, will be incarcerated in Erie Penitentiary.
  • The city of Erie will transformed into a maximum security penitentiary that will hold the most vile of criminals: murderers, violent felons, cannibals, mimes, thieves, and people who drive slowly in the passing lane. (Seriously, can’t you see that you’re screwing up traffic?)
  • I will make Bigfoot the official bird of Pennsylvania. (Of course it makes no sense!)
  • I will open a tattoo parlor and I will tattoo people with dreadful incompetence and when they complain, I’ll just say, “I’m not really a tattoo artist am I?”
  • I’ll put wifi in every building in the state, but only I will know the password.
  • Every hour of the day will be happy hour.
  • Every first born child will be named Finster–boy or girl.
  • My daughter, Finster, shall be referred to as The Prodigiously Powerful Princess of Pennsylvania. (Her close friends will call her Sally.)
  • I shall deal with any person who says “lol” out loud in lieu of actual laughter, with an iron fist.
  • I will have an iron fist constructed.
  • I will seize control of the Amish Mafia. (And they can’t stop me–I’ll have an iron fist.)
  • Every road leading into Intercourse, Pennsylvania will be renamed Foreplay Avenue.
  • Every road leading from Intercourse, Pennsylvania will be renamed Faked Orgasm Avenue.
  • And most crucially: Ground Hog Day will be replaced with Red Panda Day. (Red Pandas aren’t afraid of their shadows, they pee on them.)

If all goes well, I may annex West Virginia.

cardinal

West Virginia’s state bird…for now.

Poop Flinging Monkeys and Origami Condoms

monkey throwing poop

He’s right-handed–make a note of that.

A while back I wrote a post entitled, What the Hell is Going on, detailing the National Institute of Health’s spending of $3.8 million to make monkeys alcoholic. (The amount spent on monkey rehab is still unreported.)

The Daily Mail has now reported another list of bizarre NIH spending:

$2.4 million dollars to develop an ‘origami’ condom.

I’ve always felt the biggest problem with condoms is that they’re not in the shape of a swan. They’re just too easy to use; stopping to remove the condom from its package, and apply it without losing the ‘moment’ is just too simple; why not also have to fold it into shape of dragon.

$939,000 dollars to determine that male fruit flies prefer younger female fruit flies.

Researchers have determined that this is caused by drop in hormone levels as female fruit flies age, but we know that’s a load of crap.

When you have a 24 hour lifespan, that midlife crisis hits you fast and hits you hard. It’s about noon, you’re flying around a waste basket containing discarded apple cores, when it hits you: my life is half over and I haven’t even had lunch yet.

You buy an unpractical sports car, start dressing inappropriately for your age, you get a couple of piercings and a tattoo that reads: forever young.

You dump your twelve-hour old wife for a nubile six-hour old.

You’re balding, you have a paunch, your behavior is embarrassing, and tomorrow you’ll be dead.

I believe my assessment to be more accurate, and it cost $939,000 less.

$592,000 dollars to determine that chimpanzees with the best poop flinging skills are also the best communicators.

I think I can write without fear of contradiction: if you address someone by slapping a fistful of your feces in their face, you will have effectively gained their undivided attention.

However, be prepared for that person to subsequently communicate their feelings…violently.

$117,000 to learn that most chimps are right-handed.

Couldn’t the researchers from the previous study have just made of note of which hand the chimps were throwing their feces with; if you’re going to do something as important as throwing your feces, you’re not going to do it off-handed.

$325,000 to learn that marriages are happier when wives calm down more quickly during arguments with their husbands.

This is like doing a study to determine that fire is hot.

The real question is why do wives in some marriages calm down more quickly during arguments. I’m willing to bet it’s because husbands in those marriages, during arguments, don’t say things like:

  • I don’t know why you’re acting so crazy.
  • I think you’re overreacting to that remark about your acting crazy.
  • Can’t this wait until the game’s over.
  • Who cares what your friends think; it’s my opinion that matters.
  • Sure those jeans make you look fat. Bit if I wanted a skinny wife, I would have married your sister.

This study also showed that marriages were completely unaffected when the husbands were the ones who became calm more quickly. This just proves two things that everybody already knew:

  1. Women just want men to understand why they’re upset and empathize with them.
  2. Men don’t care; we just want to drink beer and watch football without all the noise.

$832,000 went to learn if it was possible to get uncircumcised South African tribesmen into the habit of washing their genitals after having sex.

Note: is this what the couples in the previous study were arguing about? Because that would make sense to me.

Let’s be clear about this.

This wasn’t an attempt to get uncircumcised South African tribesmen into the habit of washing their genitals after having sex.

This was a study to learn if it was ‘possible’ to get uncircumcised South African tribesmen into the habit of washing their genitals after having sex.

Let me save you $832,000: yes it’s possible.

Anything is possible. It’s possible to be struck by lightning. It’s possible or win the lottery. It’s possible that I’ll grow to like mimes.

Note: You’re thinking that last one isn’t possible. If you gave me $832,000 to like mimes; I would like me some mimes.

And how do they know uncircumcised South African tribesmen don’t wash their genitals after sex? It feels like something creepy has been going on there.

Note: perhaps uncircumcised South African tribesman would be more conscientious of genital hygiene if they didn’t have to fold their condoms into the shape of a chrysanthemum. Chrysanthemums are freaking hard. Read more…

Look How Far We’ve Come (?)

A post from Mitigating Chaos.

Mitigating Chaos

Look how far we’ve come.

You don’t have to look far on the inter-tunnel to find generational comparisons.  Here are just three.

IMG_2510

On Weather delays/closings:

IMG_E2412IMG_E2195

This is my favorite, as it reminds me of a pacifier I used to keep on my office desk.  Whenever a staff member came in to complain about something silly, I’d pull it out and hand it to them saying, “Here, suck on this, you’ll feel better”  That was just one of many “management tricks” that lead to my getting that award a few years back.

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Elizabeth Gomez: Inappropriate Sentiments for Greeting Cards

I find all of these to be completely appropriate.

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…

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Granada Apartments to be Duct Taped Back Together — gooferie

Repair work will begin soon on the dilapidated Granada Apartments as a truckload of duct tape was delivered on Thursday. Project Manager Robert Harrison says “We figure 5,000 rolls of duct tape ought to do it. We’ll use regular strength on the walls, roofs, and floors, and heavy-duty strength on the balconies.” The property was […]

via Granada Apartments to be Duct Taped Back Together — gooferie

King of Pennsylvania

kings crownToday is election day across the country. Excitingly, if my ballot initiative passes today I will become king of the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.

I must admit, there has been some opposition to the prospect of my becoming king of Pennsylvania. You could even categorize some of the opposition as extremely heavy.

I would be a kind and benevolent king. Sure, I’d have some people put to death, but nobody that would be missed; mostly bureaucrats and slack-jawed neighbors who live across the street.

Opponents of my initiative have put forth a myriad of ridiculous reasons why they think I shouldn’t be king of Pennsylvania. They carelessly throw around phrases like maniacally unhinged and dangerously unbalanced.

They offer proof such as:

  • We don’t have kings here in America–we’re not Canada.
  • My plans for a castle with a moat and turrets for canons would violate all kinds of zoning laws.
  • My plans to imprison every member of the zoning commission are unconstitutional.
  • They oppose my plans to create a new constitution for the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania that would allow me to imprison every member of the zoning commission and put canons wherever the hell I want.
  • They claim I really can’t be trusted with canons. (This one is fair–I would lay waste to things.)
  • They oppose my plans to declare war against New York State. (King Cuomo and I haven’t seen eye to eye for some time now.)
  • They oppose my plan to change Ground Hog Day to Red Panda Day.
  • They say my plans to turn the entire city of Erie into a maximum security prison, while understandable, are unrealistic.
  • They claim that I am a whack job who simply can’t be trusted with power of any kind.

While some or most of these point are valid, who cares, I want to be king.

So get out there vote.

Note: My previous ballot initiative (slap-an-idiot-in-the-face-day) was a failure. Hopefully, this one fairs better.

I still don’t understand why my slap-an-idiot-in-the-face-day initiative failed. Everybody who voted against it is an idiot who should be slapped in the face–and there should be a day for it. 

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