idiotpruf

The blog that prevents scurvy…as long as you eat orange slices while you read it.

Archive for the category “Humor”

Builder of Straw Houses Furious

“It’s given the whole straw house industry a bad name,” Cyril Tottering the proprietor of Tottering Straw Homes Inc. complained.

It seems Mr. Tottering’s business has taken quite a financial hit since the story of the Three Little Pigs has gotten out.

“Those pigs are blatant liars,” Mr. Tottering asserted, “you can’t just huff and puff and blow down one of my straw houses.”

“He came around trying to sell me one of those crappy straw houses,” the third little pig told us. “I wouldn’t keep my dung pile in one of those things. My brother, the first little pig, kept bragging about how cheap his house was…look where that got him.”

“My straw houses pass rigorous testing,” Mr. Tottering asserted.

“I guess none of that ‘rigorous testing’ involved a lit match,” the third little pig responded.

“We could ask the wolf what really happened, but evidently the pigs boiled him in oil,” Mr. Tottering stated. “That hardly seems like trustworthy behavior.” 

“If you come down someone’s chimney uninvited, boiled in oil is what you’re gonna get,” the third little pig said. “We’re not just going to allow ourselves to be eaten–not by the hairs on our chinny chin chins.”

“What does that even mean: the hairs on our chinny chin chins? It pisses me off every time they say that.”

Mr. Tottering went on to tell us how he and a Mr. Dennis Flimsy owner of Flimsy Stick Homes Inc. are combining to launch a defamation lawsuit against the three little pigs.

“I wouldn’t keep my dung pile in one of those stick houses either,” the third little pig chuckled. “Tottering and Flimsy: pretty aptly described if you ask me.”

“Those are our names!” Mr. Tottering yelled in exasperation.

“It seemed like a really good deal at the time,” the first little pig explained.

“Who would think wolves have such lung capacity,” the second little pig added.

“Our brother said that thing about his dung pile again, didn’t he?” the first little pig asked disgustedly.

“Yeah,” the second little pig said in conclusion, “he’s kind of a dick about that big brick house of his.”

Monkeys, Shakespeare, and Me

monkey

The authors of this blog?

I’m sure you’ve heard of the Infinite Monkey Theorem. It states the following:

If you’re having a child’s birthday party, don’t hire a clown, or a pony, or a big sweaty guy in a SpongeBob SquarePants costume. Get a monkey in a cowboy hat on a unicycle; your children will have infinitely more fun.

I’m joking, that’s not really the Infinite Monkey Theorem. (But seriously, go with the monkey in the cowboy hat.)

Wikipedia describes the Infinite Monkey Theorem this way:

The infinite monkey theorem states that a monkey hitting keys at random on a typewriter keyboard for an infinite amount of time will almost surely type any given text, such as the complete works of William Shakespeare. In fact, the monkey would almost surely type every possible finite text an infinite number of times. However, the probability that monkeys filling the observable universe would type a complete work such as Shakespeare’s Hamlet is so tiny that the chance of it occurring during a period of time hundreds of thousands of orders of magnitude longer than the age of the universe is extremely low (but technically not zero).

So, I acquired a couple of monkeys, (don’t ask how, it involved unsavory behavior and a yak) I gave them a couple of typewriters and let them go nuts. I wanted to see if there was anything to this Infinite Monkey Theorem. Plus, monkeys are fun.

We got off to a rocky start: there was some feces hurling and some disturbingly lengthy (and quite frankly, hurtful) obscene gesturing, but eventually they got to work.

While they didn’t reproduce any of the works of Shakespeare, they did type the phrase: Hamlet smells of cheese and Denmark multiple times.

Then something bizarre happened: the monkeys began to reproduce most of the contents of this blog and in shockingly less time than it took me to produce it. They even corrected some of my grammar errors.

And these weren’t the smart type of monkeys that do sign language; these were the type of monkeys eat their own poop and smoke cigarettes and one of them was really drunk at the time.

They rewrote several Curious George books, except every book ended with George violently attacking The Man with the Yellow Hat.

Then they started writing limericks about me that were really filthy.

After that they peed on the typewriters and mocked me with their superior verb tense usage.

It was all very disheartening.

I think I’m going to read Hamlet and pretend it was written by a drunken monkey.

Better yet, I’m going to read Curious George books and pretend they were written by a drunken Shakespeare.

Addendum: the monkeys rewrote this post too and it was better than this crappy version.

hamlet

Don’t hire a guy dressed up like Hamlet for a child’s birthday party either–they smell like cheese and Denmark.

Sick and Tired

glaring look

“What’s wrong with you?”

I am sick and tired of people who think they are better than me.

People who think they are better than me just because they don’t eat crayons–there’s no law against eating crayons.

Do you know what all serial killers have in common: they don’t eat crayons. They occasionally eat people, but never crayons. Would you prefer I went around murdering people and eating them? I’ll bet you would, because you’re all judgmental that way.

I’m sick and tired of people who think they are better than me just because they’ve never slapped a mime in the face–there’s no law against slapping mimes in the face.

Okay, there is a law against slapping mimes in the face–but there shouldn’t be! When did this country become the type of fascist police state where you can’t slap a mime in the face?

I’m fed up with those of you who think you’re so superior just because you’ve never licked a toad then urinated on a police car. Police cars are inanimate objects: they don’t care if you urinate on them.

The police officer gets a little angry when you urinate on him.

It makes the toad furious.

And so what if I like to spend my evenings skulking in a dimly lit room, chugging bottles of Orange Jubilee Mad Dog 20/20, eating from a 64 pack of Crayola Crayons, with the B-52’s greatest hits blaring at full volume on the stereo as I fingerpaint pictures of giraffes and other even toed ungulates on the walls.

Sometimes I do it dressed up like a rodeo clown.

There’s nothing weird about any of that…except for listening to the B-52’s–I shouldn’t do that.

Think about this: if I didn’t do weird and unspeakable things this blog wouldn’t even exist.

I should probably stop.

mad dog 20/20

Perfectly paired with Crayola brand dandelion crayons.

Something is a Bit Off

feeling ill I’m not feeling right.

Something is a bit off.

I seem to be suffering from some mysterious medical condition.

The symptoms are myriad:

  • Nausea.
  • Runny nose.
  • Headaches in my stomach.
  • Stomach aches in my head.
  • Squirrels steal my mail and replace it with half eaten nuts.
  • Everything smells like fear.
  • Everything tastes like pinecones.
  • Pinecones taste like pickled beets (but they smell like fear).
  • Old Magilla Gorilla cartoons make me weep uncontrollably.
  • I have a rash on my butt in the shape of Wolf Blitzer’s face.
  • I have a rash on my face in the shape of Wolf Blitzer’s butt.
  • My left eyeball pops out of its socket at really inconvenient times.
  • Itchy scalp.
  • Dizziness.
  • Chills.
  • Tremors.
  • Tremors 2.
  • Any movie involving giant mutant worms.
  • Sleeplessness.
  • Sleeplessness from incontinence.
  • Sleeplessness from continents, especially Europe.
  • Sleeplessness because Elvis’ ghost visits me nightly and gripes endlessly about how Mary Tyler Moore Hogged all the screen time in Change of Habit.
  • The compulsion to make ridiculous lists.
  • Paranoia.

In my quest for answers, I’ve read several books authored by a world renown doctor.

Unfortunately, upon reading these books, I’ve discovered them to be no help at all. Not only did these books not reveal any insights regarding my condition, but I also now have an incredible craving for green eggs and ham, and an intense desire to write in poetic meter.

This is bad.

It’s very bad–So very bad, you see.

“Egad it’s so very bad,” I said to me.

It’s sad when things are bad,

would you not agree?

I would be so glad to not be sad.

I’d be a happy lad, so full of glee,

and live so happily.

Do you see how infuriating that is?

After doing some follow-up research, I’ve found the author of these books, Theodore Seuss Geisel, to be a complete fraud, and not a medical professional of any kind.

Note: in another shocking turn of events, I’ve discovered the renowned author and childcare expert, Dr. Spock, wasn’t really a Vulcan. When will the misinformation and subterfuge end?

doctor spock vulcan

Dr. Spock was born in New Haven, Connecticut. Frankly, that’s not even close to Vulcan.

 

But this spurred an epiphany: my condition has been caused by stress and anxiety; the stress and anxiety that results from living a lie.

A horrible lie.

A horrible horrible lie.

Horrible!

I have written in the past about a certain tattoo. A tattoo on my left butt cheek. A tattoo of Winnie the Pooh with his head stuck in a honey pot. I’ve referenced it often.

It’s a lie.

I haven’t any tattoos of lovable cartoons charters on or around my buttocks.

I apologize to anyone my lies may have hurt.

I apologize to A. A. Milne.

I feel so ashamed.

Hopefully now that the truth is out, the healing can begin.

Thank you for your patience.

ADDENDUM:

Sometimes when Elvis’ ghost visits me, he brings me peanut butter and banana sandwiches. They taste like pinecones and they smell like fear.

horton hears a who

Horton can hear a Who, but he can’t help you diagnose the cause of your explosive diarrhea.

The World’s Most Dangerous Animal?

I recently saw the following statement in a meme:

The Most Dangerous Animal in the World…

Is a Smiling Woman Sitting in Silence.

Wrong!

It’s this freaking thing:

scary fish

“Come in the water, it’s nice.”

Amanda the Lizard: Another Fable

Fable

It was a pleasant summer day and Ned the tree frog was hopping across the forest floor on his way to the creek.

What a perfect day to spend at the creek, he thought to himself, but I hope there’s no lizards at the creek; I don’t care for lizards.

He happened upon Tobias the toad.

“How are things today,” Ned the tree frog asked of Tobias the toad.

“Things are well on this pleasant summer day,” Tobias the toad replied. “I’m on my to creek for this is a perfect day to spend at the creek.”

“That is just what I was thinking,” Ned the tree frog agreed.

“I just hope there’s no lizards there,” Tobias the toad added, “I don’t care for lizards.”

“You and I think so much alike,” Ned the tree frog exclaimed.

“It’s probably because we’re both amphibians,” Tobias the toad said.

And so they hopped together toward the creek.

As they reached the creek, they were horrified to find Amanda the lizard, basking in the sun in the disgusting way that lizards do.

“Please don’t eat us,” Tobias the toad said to Amanda the lizard.

“Why would I do that,” Amanda the lizard responded quizzically.

“Lizards eat amphibians–that’s what lizards do,” Tobias the toad responded matter-of-factly.

“Don’t worry about that,” Amanda the Lizard told them, “I’ve had a change of lifestyle; I now self-identify as an amphibian…and besides, toads are disgusting.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Tobias the toad replied indignantly.

“Your skin is all leathery and covered with warts: it’s disgusting.”

“That’s a hurtful thing to say,” Tobias the toad said feeling very triggered.

“And you’re really sour–it’s quite off-putting.”

“It’s a defense mechanism,” Tobias the toad told her.

“Well, it works because I threw-up in my mouth a little bit just thinking about eating you,” Amanda the lizard continued.

“Okay we get it!” Tobias the toad yelled.

“Tree frogs on the other hand are tasty little morsels, but don’t worry I won’t eat you.” she assured Ned the tree frog.

Ned the tree frog, Tobias the toad tried to settle down to enjoy a pleasant summer day at the creek, but it was difficult.

Ned the tree frog was feeling uneasy about potentially being eaten and Tobias the toad was feeling insecure about his warty toad skin.

After a bit of time, Ron the tree frog came down from one of the trees. Ron the tree frog was widely known about the forest as a major ass-hat.

“Well, if it isn’t Ned the “supposed” tree frog,” Ron the tree frog said snidely.

“There’s nothing wrong with hanging out with toads,” Ned the tree frog said, “they’re amphibians too.”

“Yeah, there’s nothing wrong with it, if you want to get covered in warts and that weird toad smell.”

“It’s a defense mechanism!” Tobias the toad yelled.

“More like an offense mechanism because the smell is offensive,” Ron the tree frog said as he laughed.

“Why don’t you just leave us alone?” Ned the tree frog said dejectedly.

“Because I hate you,” Ron the tree frog said. “And another thing…”

With a lightning quick flick of her tongue and a few muted chomping sounds, Ron the tree frog had disappeared down Amanda the lizard’s throat.

“Holy crap!” Tobias the toad exclaimed to Amanda the lizard, “you just ate Ron the tree frog!”

“He was being an ass-hat,” Amanda the lizard said in defense.

So, the three of them settled down and enjoyed the rest of that pleasant summer day in peace, only interrupted once by Amanda the lizard regurgitating Ron the tree frogs undigested bones.

Moral

If you’re a tasty little morsel–don’t be an ass-hat.

“Don’t be an ass-hat.”

Ned the Tree Frog: A Fable


tree frog

The Fable

Ned was a tree frog who lived in a bush.

All the other tree frogs lived in big trees in the forest, but Ned had a fear of heights.

One day Ned was hopping around the forest floor when he bumped into Patty the tree frog and her boyfriend, Dirk the tree frog.

Ned had long fancied Patty the tree frog; she had big bulbous orange eyes and her skin was especially slimy and green.

“We’re having a party up in our tree tonight,” Patty told Ned, “why don’t you come?”

“He won’t come to a party in the tree,” Dirk said snidely, “Ned doesn’t like to be in the trees and our tree is the tallest tree in the forest.”

“It’s called acrophobia,” Ned defended himself, “and it’s an officially recognized fear by American Psychiatric Association, Dirk.”

“You really need to grow a pair,” Patty told Ned.

“I’m a tree frog,” Ned told Patty, “that means my genitalia consists of two interior testicles and spermatic canal. I have a pair; you just can’t see them because they’re inside my body.”

“We all have a spermatic canal, Ned,” Dirk snarked.

You’re a spermatic canal, Ned thought but could bring himself to say.

“Ned would rather stay down here on the ground like a common toad.,” Dirk told Patty in the snide way a tree frog who was a spermatic canal might.

“Some of my best friends are toads,” Ned told them.

At that Dirk and Patty laughed at Ned and hopped away to have their party.

Suddenly Ned felt very sad and very alone.

That night Ned sat in his bush with some of his toad friends and listened to the laughter and frivolity happening in the tree above.

Then one of Ned’s toad friends suggested they some gasoline and burn that tree to the ground.

And that’s what they did.

The other tree frogs never made fun of Ned again.

Moral

Don’t be a spermatic canal or your tree might get burned to the ground.

Also, don’t mess with toads.

tree on fire

What happens when you’re a spermatic canal.

Village Faces Lawsuit Following Unfortunate Tumble

falling down

Artist rendition of the incident.

North East, Pa.–The township of North East, Pennsylvania is facing a slip and fall lawsuit following an accident that occurred on township property. It seems a local resident known as Jack suffered a head injury after falling down a hill.

“The village does an absolutely dreadful job of maintaining the path on that hill,” his sister Jill said disgustedly. “We had simply gone up the hill to fetch a pail of water when Jack lost his footing on some loose gravel and tumbled down. I tried to grab him, but then I went tumbling after.”

“You have to be careful when you’re on a hill,” an unsympathetic town official stated. “Besides, that kid is a walking disaster; just last year Jack set himself on fire trying to jump over a candlestick. He thinks he’s nimble. He thinks he’s quick. But he is decidedly neither.”

“He did set himself on fire once,” Jill admitted, “I had to go up the hill by myself to fetch a pail of water just to put him out…what kind of idiot puts a well on a hill anyway?”

“I fell and broke my crown,” was Jack’s only response before adding, “I could see my own brains.”

body cast

Jack after his first attempt at skydiving.

Frog Upset by Unwelcome Kiss

disney princess

Princess and alleged frog groper.

Trouble is brewing in the Kingdom as allegations of unwanted advances have been leveled against the princess by a local frog.

“I was sitting here in the swamp next to husband when out of nowhere this giant blond tart grabs him and practically sticks her tongue down his throat,” the lady frog complained. “It was repulsive. And to make matters worse, after she gets done groping my husband, he turns into a prince. He used to be green, slimy, and lovely. Now he’s just huge, pink, and disgusting.”

“When the Wicked Witch turned me into a frog, it was the best thing that could have happened to me,” the Prince said, “People think being a prince is all wine and roses. Well, there are a lot of wine and roses, but there’s also a lot of headaches: the threat of assassination, diplomacy with other kingdoms is a nightmare, moat maintenance is a constant struggle, and there’s always the worry that at some point the peasants will realize how oppressed they are and revolt–when you’re a frog you don’t have to worry about angry mobs with pitchforks.” The Prince then leaned in and said in a hushed voice, “And that Princess is no picnic either.”

“Do you know how many frogs I had to kiss before I found the right one?” The Princess said in disgust. “Do you see this ugly sore on my upper lip, I’m pretty sure it’s some kind of frog herpes.”

“Look at this worthless ineffectual tongue,” the Prince continued, “how am I supposed to catch flies with this thing? What I wouldn’t give for one blood filled mosquito right now.” 

“Excuse me while I go vomit,” the Princess said as she left in disgust.

When contacted to see if she could turn the Prince back into a frog, the Wicked Witch replied, “I’m not freaking Oprah–I don’t just give things away. I do things to make people miserable and unhappy; it’s in the job title.”

“I tried to go back to the swamp, but it’s not the same,” the Prince lamented. “I’d known my wife since she was a tadpole, but now she wants nothing to do with me. I guess I’m stuck with the Princess. Did you see that gross sore on her upper lip? Yuck!”

frog

Green, slimy, and lovely.

 

 

A World Record by a Nose


miller nose
In August of 1976, Tom Miller of the United States, spent 4 days, 23 hours, 47 minutes, and 3 seconds, pushing a peanut to the summit of Pike’s Peak, with his nose.

He set a new world record for pushing a peanut to the summit of Pike’s Peak with your nose and forever became known as a world record holder.

He also became known as, “that weirdo who pushed a peanut to the top of Pike’s Peak with his nose.”

The Guinness Book of World Records took notice and recorded his feat not once, but twice.

Once, for pushing a peanut to the top of Pike’s Peak with his nose.

A second time, for the biggest waste of 4 days, 23 hours, 47 minutes, and 3 seconds, in recorded history.

Tom Miller’s parents wept tears of joy…well, they wept a lot.

Tom Miller’s life would never be the same.

But few remember the other participant in this record-setting  journey and how he was left forever broken.

mr peanut

“Tom Miller can bite me.”

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