idiotprufs

Illegal in 38 states–frowned upon in the rest.

Archive for the category “Humor”

Is There a Klingon Word for Non Sequitur?

klingon

As promised in the previous post, the following is a conversation with Klingon speaking Ed.

His real name isn’t Ed. I’ve changed the name to protect the innocent. The innocent being myself; Ed’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

Me: So, what’s up with this whole speaking Klingon thing?

Ed: Isn’t it obvious why I speak Klingon?

Me: I dunno–have all the normal ways in which you repel women begun to fail?

Ed: MOK TUK BAH.

Me: Nope, (wiping the spit from my face) you’re as repellent as ever.

Ed: Klingon is the language of a noble warrior race.

Me: Of course it is. It just seems to me that it would be more useful to learn a language you may encounter on this planet, such as French.

Ed: French is hardly the language of a noble warrior race.

Me: Point taken. What about Spanish, a lot of people speak that language?

Ed: No. Mexican food gives me gas.

Me: Does it? I’m curious, is there a Klingon word for non sequitur?

Ed: I don’t know what that is.

Me: It’s a Latin word that means: it does not follow.

Ed: Why didn’t you just say it does not follow?

Me: So you think it’s more useful to use an English word than a word in a language very few people speak?

Ed: People don’t screw you when you speak Klingon.

Me: Really, you speak Klingon and people screw with you constantly.

Ed: That’s not true.

Me: Well, I’m pretty much screwing with you right now.

Ed: I don’t think so.

Me: It feels like I am.

Ed: Klingons are hyper-aware of their surroundings.

Me: You do realize you’re not a Klingon?

Ed: Of course I do; I’m not an idiot.

Me: Well…

Ed: MOK TUK BAH.

I wiped the spit from my face as I watched him storm away in a huff. Real Klingons never storm away in a huff.

pope

The Pope knows what a non sequitur is.

Has This Ever Happened to You?

klingon driver

How many times has this happened to you?

You approach a stoplight as it’s about to turn red. Being a responsible driver, you slowly apply the breaks and come to a complete stop.

Suddenly you hear the screeching of tires behind you. You hear the sound of crunching metal as you feel the shock of your vehicle being struck from behind.

You stumble from your vehicle, slightly shaken, trying to rub the pain from back of your neck. As you survey the damage, you see the driver of the other vehicle stomping toward you from the corner of your eye. “Are you okay?” you ask as you turn to face him.

“Rah arg bah,” he bellows into your face. A blast of hot putrid breath startles you and sends you reeling. You try to steady yourself as you wipe the spit from you face. A sinking feeling comes over you with the realization that you’ve just been rear-ended by a Klingon.

“Do you have insurance?” you ask apprehensively, aware of the fact that Klingons are notoriously irresponsible drivers.

“Mok tuk bah,” he says as he jabs his crooked Klingon finger in the direction of the stoplight.

“Listen mister, that light was clearly about to turn red.” You call him mister hoping that he’s male; it’s so hard to tell with their weird wrinkled faces.

“MOK TUK BAH,” he screams at you with even more force.

“So that’s how it’s going to be,” you calmly reply, again wiping the spit from your face. This time his spit seems to contain chunks of something that was recently alive. You vomit in your mouth a little.

A lengthy argument ensues. Tensions flare. In the heat of the moment you say something unfortunate about the virtue of his Klingon mother being defiled by Captain Kirk. You soon discover–at ridiculous odds– this is the one phrase that translates directly from English to Klingon.

You find yourself staring at the end of a menacing Klingon weapon of war.

You swiftly make an attempt to apologize. You now discover the phrase “I’m sorry” in Klingon roughly translates to: stab me repeatedly and viciously.

As you lie on the pavement bleeding to death, you wonder if a better grasp of the Klingon language could have helped you avoid this grisly end.

So, how many times has this happened to you?

Allow me to answer for you: it hasn’t and it never will. Klingons are a fictitious race from a fictitious planet invented in the mind of Gene Roddenberry.

However, there is a Klingon language; a language that people endeavor to learn and speak.

Why would a person endeavor to learn and speak a language spoken by a nonexistent race?

I decided to ask a person who makes a habit of publicly speaking Klingon.

Next Post: My Conversation With Klingon Speaking Ed.

worf

Starfleet officer and notoriously irresponsible driver.

 

Don’t Swing a Dead Weasel if You’re Not Going to Use It

weasel as weapon

Weasel / Weapon

It is not a coincidence that the English language has not popularized the phrase ‘as useful as a dead weasel.’

In fact, if you’re on your way to do something and you think to yourself, I could really use a dead weasel for this, you’re probably about to do something that falls somewhere between foolish and felony. How many times on Cops has the arresting officer commented, “this would have merely been foolish, but you were swinging a dead weasel.”

If you’re on your way to do anything and you spot a dead weasel and think, I can use that, you’re headed down a dangerous path.

Which brings me to the point of this post.

A man in Hoquiam, Washington confronted the current boyfriend of an ex-girlfriend.

Generally a bad idea.

He confronted him swinging a dead weasel.

Always a bad idea.

“Why do you have a dead weasel?” the boyfriend asked him.

“It’s not a weasel, it’s a marten,” he replied.

(It’s a small distinction but an important one. Ex-boyfriends who display the proclivity to swing dead animals, tend to be very pedantic.)

He then punched the boyfriend in the nose and ran off. Begging the question: why in the world would you bother carrying a dead weasel to a confrontation if you’re not going to use it?

He was later tracked down and charged with assault and public stupidity.

When asked why he was carrying a dead weasel, he matter-of-factly replied, “what are you stupid, live weasels bite.”

In a weird twist, the authorities reported that it wasn’t a weasel or a marten, but a mink.

I don’t know if fur is murder, but it’s definitely felony assault.

The man was eventually acquitted. Evidently the prosecutors “failed to prove a link to the mink.” The prosecutors reportedly failed to do several other things that rhyme in a Seussian manner.

When asked if he had learned any valuable lessons, the man replied, “yeah, if you see something dead on the side of the road, leave it be.”

Perhaps if he had brought his girlfriend a mink when they were together, she wouldn’t have broken-up with him.

The mink had no comment.

weasle jail

I swear, I just wanted to make her a stoll.

 

Bieber Doll Beat Down

justin bieberLast year an off duty police officer in Denver was arrested for allegedly assaulting his girlfriend.

He claimed he was acting in self-defense.

He claimed it was because he was fending off a vicious attack.

He claimed his girlfriend was wielding a weapon.

What type of weapon would pose a threat so great to an off duty police officer, that it would necessitate assault against a woman?

  • A gun?
  • A knife?
  • A big stick?
  • A small stick with a sharp point?
  • A rolling-pin? (This applies mainly to Andy Capp’s wife.)
  • Mace, the medieval weapon?
  • Mace, the chemical irritant?
  • MACE, the Middleware Architecture Committee for Education? Sure, they seem like geeks, but they will rip you up.
  • A big rock?
  • A little rock if you chuck it really hard?
  • An arrow poked into your eye?
  • An arrow shot from a bow?
  • A bow tie? (Wasn’t there a Bond villain named Bowtie who used bow ties as a weapon? Well, there should have been.)
  • A Ukulele? (You wouldn’t be smirking right now if you’d ever been hit with a ukulele.)
  • A Justin Bieber doll?

That’s right, he claimed she was wielding a Justin Bieber doll.

I imagine the interview between the arresting officer and his off duty colleague, went something like this:

Cop: she attacked you with a what now?

Suspect: you heard me.

Cop: I really don’t think I did.

Suspect: she attacked me with a Justin Bieber doll.

Cop: is “Justin Bieber doll” her pet name for a machete?

Suspect: no. She attacked with an actual Justin Bieber doll.

Cop: is it possible she hit you with a lead pipe, and in a concussed state, you imagined it was a Justin Bieber doll?

Suspect: it wasn’t a lead pipe; it was a Justin Bieber doll.

Cop: was she was wearing brass knuckles at the time?

Suspect: no.

Cop: could it have been a brick with Justin Bieber’s face painted on it?

Suspect:  look, I have little Bieber face imprints all over my body. It’s horrifying–they’re just so smug.

Cop: was the Justin Bieber doll constructed of steel?

Suspect:  no. It was just a regular Justin Bieber doll.

Cop: I don’t want to write that down.

I don’t know whether he was lying or not, but in the entire universe of possible lies, is that the one you would tell? Here’s a short list of things you could be attacked with, that bear less of a threat to your manhood:

  • He-man doll.
  • G.I. Joe doll.
  • Any Star Wars action figure (Including Ewoks).
  • Raggedy Andy doll.
  • Raggedy Ann doll.
  • Ken doll.
  • Barbie doll.
  • Career Day Barbie.
  • Beach-wear Barbie.
  • My Little Pony.
  • Mr. Potato Head.
  • Mrs. Potato Head.
  • Cabbage Patch Kids.
  • Cabbage.
  • Small children throwing cabbage.
  • Tickle Me Elmo.
  • Justin Bieber himself.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to downplay how terrifying it must be to have Justin Bieber’s tiny face, repeating crashing into you. That’s an experience that haunts you forever… just ask Selena Gomez.

bieber doll

Not to be used as a weapon.

Running Man

sweaty runner

I just want to share a conversation I had with a exuberant runner.

Runner: Do you want to know what I think.

Me: I sincerely doubt it.

Runner: You should start running.

Me: I would need a good reason to start running.

Runner: The cardiovascular benefits.

Me: That’s not a good enough reason to start running.

Runner: What’s a good enough for you to start running?

Me: If I were on safari in Africa and a pack of elephants stampeded toward me, I would run.

Runner: That’s ridiculous.

Me: No it’s not. If you were on safari in Africa and a pack of elephants stampeded toward you, you would definitely want to run.

Runner: I mean a good reason.

Me: Not being trampled to death by elephants is pretty good reason.

Runner: Don’t you want to have better stamina as you get older?

Me: Better stamina? I can climb at least two or three flights of stairs before the searing pain in my side renders me unconscious.

Runner: Is that how you want to live?

Me: Listen, I’m fine. I walk at least two miles every day–I get plenty of exercise.

Runner: But walking doesn’t give you the same high you get from running.

Me: I smoke crack while I walk, so getting a high isn’t really a problem.

Runner: Now you’re just trying to be stupid.

Me: I’m not trying–it’s really no effort at all.

Runner: Tell me what it would take to get you to run.

Me: Well, if I was in Tokyo and Godzilla attacked…hey, where are you going.

Evidently getting away from me is also a good reason to run.

elephants

You’d better run!

 

 

 

A Temper Tantrum and a Mostly Jet Black Truck

black truck

The guy who drives this vehicle must be awesome.

Have you ever met a person so full of braggadocio, arrogance, and testosterone, a person so self-absorbed, that fitting his ego in any room smaller than a gymnasium would present more difficulty than stuffing a hippo into an airplane restroom?

Well I have.

(Met a guy like that I mean–I’ve never tried to stuff a hippo into an airplane restroom. You probably couldn’t even get a hippo past TSA–those guys are pretty handsy.)

It happened while I was working as a quality control inspector at a steel coating plant. I was in my office dutifully doing paperwork when a man burst through the front door and announced in a booming voice, (I may be paraphrasing a bit here) “I am the greatest man alive.”

He began telling the plant manager about his jet black truck. His jet black truck was awesome. Everybody loved his jet black truck. Women especially loved his jet black truck–almost as much as they loved him.

In the span of ten minutes he said the phrase, jet black truck, 4,167 times (give or take.)

“You have to come see my jet black truck,” he told the plant manager. “I parked it behind the building. I don’t any other vehicles driving past it and kicking up dust; I don’t like the way dust looks on my jet black truck.”

As Mr. Awesome and the plant manager went to view the jet black truck, I went out onto the shop floor to do some spot checking.

As I was talking to a coworker, I noticed Mr. Awesome and his big bulbous face, steaming toward us at about 1000 miles an hour (again, give or take.)

“You have to get the paint off my truck,” he said with a sense of urgency.

“But if I take the paint off your truck, it won’t be jet black anymore,” I said.

He cursed at me, called me an idiot, and told me to follow him.

As my coworker and I watched him storm away, my coworker turned to me and said, “he seems like a dick.”

I nodded in agreement and began to follow him. I was almost certain whatever the problem was, it would amuse me.

As I turned the corner and saw his truck I knew immediately what had happened.

I laughed–he cursed at me again.

It was warm breezy summer day and the bay doors were open. One of the painters was coating some safety rails near the open doors. As he was doing so, a fine mist of paint was wafting out the door and a breeze (as if it consciously knew what it was doing) was depositing the mist on Mr. Awesome’s jet black truck.

The side of his jet black truck was speckled with safety yellow coating.

A little scientific fact: the two colors that contrast the most to the human eye are black and yellow; it’s why warning signs on the highway are black and yellow. This was jet black and safety yellow–it was stunning.

He pointed at the truck and yelled, “what do you see?”

“A mostly jet black truck,” I answered.

“How am I going to get that yellow paint off,” he demanded.

I offered him the wad of sandpaper that I had in my back pocket.

He cursed at me–a lot.

“Without damaging the finish!”

“That ship has sailed,” I told him.

Mr. Awesome then threw a yelling, screaming, kicking, cursing, spitting, hissy fit. I’d never seen anybody above the age of eight throw a tantrum like that–I think he may have peed himself a little. It was basically a five minute torrent of pure obscenity with a few words like idiot, incompetent, and moron mixed in.

The painter, the plant manager and I just stood and watched–I really enjoyed it.

Mr. Awesome punctuated the tirade by looking at the painter and screaming, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

“You’re the idiot that parked behind the building,” he said calmly. “You’re supposed to park in the parking area. That’s why it’s there–to park in.” Then he walked away.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” I assured him.

“Why not,” he asked.

“This is Pittsburgh,” I said, “everything here is black and gold.”

It didn’t make him feel better–but I felt great.

warning sign

Warning: don’t park your jet black truck here, idiot.

Race Results Overturned by a Hare

turtle wins

The result in dispute.

LAS VEGAS, NV–In a shocking turn of events, the Nevada Gaming Commission has vacated the results of the infamous Tortoise vs. Hare race. The gaming commission, following an extensive investigation, has determined the results to have been unduly influenced by outside manipulation.

“Our suspicions were first piqued by the fact that hares tend to be very quick animals, while tortoises tend to be extremely slow animals, almost painfully so. Have you ever found yourself stuck in line at the supermarket behind a tortoise? It’s just a nightmare,” the gaming commissioner said.

The commissioner also reported suspicious activity in wagering surrounding the race. “Basically just the idea that anyone would bet heavily on a tortoise to defeat a hare in any kind of race is highly suspicious.”

Adding to the questions swirling around the race was the Hare’s sudden rise from a hole in the ground in a field, to a lush garden in a penthouse.

“I’ve invested wisely,” the Hare told us, “if you think one rabbit’s foot is lucky, I’ve got four of them.”

When pressed about alleged connections to a notorious Las Vegas bookmaker, the Hare refused comment, only pausing to mutter, “I’ve no plans to become hasenpfeffer.”

The Tortoise maintains his victory to be hard fought and legitimate. “Slow and steady wins the race,” the Tortoise reminded us.

“We have heard the ‘slow and steady’ argument before,” the commissioner replied, “but our research indicates, being slow is not a desired trait when you’re trying to win a race of virtually any kind. In fact, it tends to be quite a detriment.”

The Tortoise has filed an appeal and plans to appear before gaming commission. They’re still waiting for him to arrive; he is very slow.

gambler

The Hare’s associate claims to be on the up and up.

 

Just the Eggs Ma’am

broken egg shellPurchasing two dozen eggs at the supermarket is something that ought to be quick and simple.

Unfortunately I had forgotten who I am–nothing can be quick and simple.

Cashier: Did you check the eggs to make sure they’re not broken?

Me: Yes I did.

Cashier: You have to check them individually.

Me: I already…(I look up from my wallet to find her individually checking every egg.)…did that.

Cashier: Men never check the eggs.

Me: I don’t necessarily think that’s true.

Cashier: Yes it is. (She moves on to the second dozen.) What are you going to do with these eggs?

Me: Well, I saw police car in front of the store and thought it would be cool to get my name in the paper.

Cashier: (stops checking the eggs and stares at me with suspicion.) I can’t sell these eggs to you if you’re going to throw them at a police car.

Me: That was just a joke.

Cashier: So what are going to do with them?

Me: Just normal egg things.

Cashier: Such as?

Me (irritated): I thought I’d put them all in a big glass and drink them raw like Rocky.

Cashier: Who’s Rocky.

Me: Rocky Balboa.

Cashier: I don’t know him.

Me: From the movie Rocky.

Cashier: Never saw it.

Me: Really, because it’s a pretty famous movie.

Cashier: Let me talk to my manager. (She disappears into the office.)

Me (Under my breath): I’ll bet your manager’s seen Rocky.

I now notice the growing line behind me and realize that I am  “that idiot” who screwed up the express lane.

Small child behind me in line: Guess what?

Me: What?

Small child: Eggs come from a chicken’s pooper.

Me: You have an amazing grasp of chicken physiology.

Small child: I know.

Me: It’s your turn to guess what.

Small Child: What?

Me: Chicken butt.

Small Child: (Laughs hysterically and starts repeating chicken butt over and over.)

Child’s Mother: (Glares at me.)

Me: What? You prefer pooper to chicken butt?

Several moments of awkward silence ensued (apart from the small child joyfully repeating the phrase chicken butt) followed by the manager emerging from the office to look me over. The manager studied me for a moment and returned to the office for several more awkward silent moments before the cashier returned.

Cashier: The manager says I can sell you the eggs.

Me: Fantastic.

I paid for the eggs, left the store, and egged the cashier’s car.

I didn’t really do that…don’t tell the police.

 

rocky drinking eggs

Just normal egg things.

 

Tooth Fairy Jailed

in jailNorth East, Pennsylvania–A man was jailed in the town of North East, Pennsylvania after being arrested for suspicious behavior and what the responding officer referred to as, prowling around like weirdo.

The man who has been identified as a Mr. T. Fairy was allegedly trying to gain entry to the residence of the Smith family. “He claims to have had business there,” the arresting officer said.

The man was discovered carrying a satchel of silver dollars and what appeared to be a bag filled with children’s teeth. “A bag of children’s teeth,” said the officer. “How sinister is that?”

The man claims to be the famed Tooth Fairy, but the police have their doubts. “I imagined the Tooth Fairy to be less muscular than this guy, and definitely less tattooed,” one officer commented.

“Everybody just assumes the Tooth Fairy is some petite little woman,” Mr. Fairy said, “but that’s just sexist.”

Investigation has uncovered that little Ronnie Smith had lost a tooth earlier that day when on a dare he tried to eat a brick. “Ronnie is pretty stupid,” his father confirmed.

Adding intrigue to the situation and weight to the man’s story, he was discovered to have wings. “We were fingerprinting him when all of a sudden these wings go fluttering up behind him,” the processing officer said, “that doesn’t normally happen.”

Mr. Fairy is being charged with trespassing and with a little used statute involving activity deemed to be more than a little icky.

“Well, the tooth will come out in the end,” Mr. Fairy said with a chuckle.

Little Ronnie’s lost tooth remains under his pillow, waiting for the Tooth Fairy to make bail.

tooth fairy

 

French Fries and Lab Rats

lab rat idiotprufs cancerI was recently informed that French fries cause cancer in lab rats. I found this to be quite distressing; I don’t know how many times I’ve sat around all night with all of my lab rat friends and devoured buckets of French fries.

I was informed of this by a snarky little man. Unfortunately before I could glean any further information, our conversation was cut short by an unavoidable accident involving the side of his head and a plastic fork.

Note: in an unrelated matter, I have always felt there should be occasions when it’s legal to stab a person in the side of the head with a plastic fork. Unfortunately the law is far less progressive in its thinking than I am. Let’s get on this, Congress.

I decided to check this out for myself.

It turns out the weird little man was right…a weird little bit. A substance called acrylamide, which is found in fried foods, has been used to induce cancer in lab rats. Here’s the twist: to ingest the same amount of acrylamide that was injected into these lab rats, you would have to eat 346 large orders of McDonald’s fries everyday.

If you eat 346 large orders of large McDonald’s fries everyday, the list of medical and mental health professionals you deal with will be lengthy. You’re likely to hit coroner before you get to oncologist.

It also seems that these lab rats are bred to be susceptible to cancer. Something as slight as a simple change of diet can induce cancer in lab rats.

Note: In a similar study, scientists have discovered that lab rats that are whomped over the head with a brick, are more susceptible to concussions than lab rats that aren’t whomped over the head with a brick.

It has also been discovered every time a potato farmer in Idaho named Earl utters the word crap-shack, lab rats in Sweden immediately develop cancerous growths. The day he fell off his tractor and broke his tailbone, every lab rat in Sweden ballooned to the size of a cantaloupe.

After doing an extensive amount of research–making things up– I’ve come up with a list of things that cause cancer in lab rats.

  • sugar
  • caffeine
  • salt
  • nicotine
  • alcohol
  • radon
  • plutonium
  • radium
  • yellow cake uranium
  • yellow cake with frosting
  • strawberry shortcake
  • Strawberry Shortcake the doll
  • Guys and Dolls the musical
  • Cats the musical
  • cats
  • dogs
  • pink flamingos
  • pink the color
  • Pink the singer
  • Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon
  • Floyd the barber
  • barber shop quartets
  • Justin Bieber’s smug little face
  • face paint
  • clowns
  • mimes
  • any subset of clowns
  • Jersey Shore reruns
  • Pauly Shore reruns
  • Pauly Shore movies
  • Bob Costas’ hair
  • the word okie-dokie
  • potato farmers named Earl
  • everything

So the next time you think about telling me that French fries cause cancer in lab rats–pending action from Congress–you might just get stabbed in the side of the head with a plastic fork.

Correction: Justin Bieber’s smug little face does not cause cancer in lab rats; it kills them outright.

idiotprufs

“Hey, you can’t pin cancer on me. High cholesterol: maybe. Obesity: yes. But not cancer.”

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