idiotprufs

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

Archive for the category “idiotprufs”

How to Appreciate Poetry in a Right and Proper Way

 

bullwinkle

Bullwinkle, appreciating the hell out some poetry.

Every now and again, when I’m feeling intellectually illiterate or a bit lowbrow, (anyone who has read this blog to any extent can understand how frequently that may be) I will resolve the feeling by appreciating poetry.

I just head to my closet, yank out my poetry sack, pull out a big wad of poetry, and appreciate the hell out of it.

Note: my poetry sack also serves as a repository for random unmatched socks.

When appreciating poetry in a right and proper way, there are a few things that are key:

Comprehension

If you can even remotely understand the meaning of a poem, it isn’t a proper poem. Poems tend to be vague or nebulous. Poets like to throw around a dizzying menagerie of random imagery, designed to confuse and disorient. If you’ve just finished reading a poem and you haven’t vomited in your mouth a bit, it isn’t proper poetry.

Symbolism

When a poet writes a poem about a leaf being blown from a tree, falling to the ground, and being trampled underfoot, he’s not actually writing about a leaf being blown from a tree, falling to the ground, and being trampled underfoot.

The leaf represents hopelessness, and the futility of a life marred by series of tragic events. The leaf being blown from the tree represents a life spiralling into an alcohol fueled abyss of despair. The leaf being trampled underfoot represents the crushing weight of an uncaring world and inevitable grip of death.

A morbid bunch–poets.

Emotional Response

Poems are written to evoke an emotional response from its readers. Once after reading a collection of poems by Sylvia Plath, I spent hours curled-up on the floor in the fetal position as I sobbed uncontrollably.

An excerpt from Daddy, one of Sylvia Plath’s best known poems:

If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two——
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.
There’s a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.

Holy Crap! Right?

Note: I don’t want to paint the picture that all poets are emotionally distressed alcoholics with father issues– but the really good ones are.

But Limericks Are Fun
Limericks are short humorous poems with a strict meter and A-A-B-B-A rhyme scheme. They tend to revolve around a man with an odd ability, from a small island off the coast of Massachusetts.
Sonnets
Sonnets are fourteen line poems that rose to popularity in the 13th century. They tend to be written by William Shakespeare and lovelorn teenage boys who are trying to impress teenage girls who are way out of their league.
Haiku
Haiku is not proper poetry, let’s all just stop pretending that it is.
Epic Poems
These are lengthy poems that generally involve deeds of heroism. A few examples of epic poems: Divine Comedy by Dante, Paul Revere’s Ride by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Horton Hears a Who by Theodor Seuss Geisel.
Dr. Seuss
Don’t be fooled by this charlatan, while he may be the brilliant author of dozens of classic children’s books, he is not and has never been a medical professional.
Emily Dickinson vs. Angie Dickinson

Be sure that you know the difference. You don’t want to be chatting up a girl who is gushing over her love of Emily Dickinson when you say, “I know, she was smoking hot in Big Bad Mama.” Seriously– it ends badly.

angie Dickinson

This is not Emily Dickinson.

Interesting Fact
The Baltimore Ravens, the NFL franchise in Baltimore, is named after Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven.
Note: if I had named the NFL franchise in Baltimore after an Edgar Allan Poe poem, I would have called them the Baltimore Conquering Worms. How much cooler would that have been?
A Moment of Braggadocio
I once wrote an essay in college, explicating The Tyger by William Blake, on which I received a grade of 99%. Take that doubters.
You Are Now Ready
You are now ready to pull out your own poetry sack, and start appreciating the hell out of poetry.
Final Note
I don’t want any whiny comments from people who love Haiku, write Haiku, read Haiku, or though the certifying of some bizarre clerical error at the hospital, have been named Haiku. It was just a joke…mostly.
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Just a Bit of Advice


bat crazy

If you’re a person who is deeply offended by being told you’re acting bat-shit crazy–stop acting bat-shit crazy.

I know this seems like a profundity that is so pure, so simple, and so obvious, that it hardly warrants mentioning…but evidently it does.

So stop it!

Thank You

newhart

Deliverance: Not the Only River Tale to End Badly

rafting

“Paddle faster you idiots.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be refreshing,” my friend assured me. I had strong doubts as I stood on the shore and watched the river’s water heave and surge past. My trepidation fueled less by the tenacity of the water, more by the fact that what I did in the water could be described less as swimming and more as a labored attempt to avoid drowning. In pit of my stomach, I could feel that this rafting trip was about to turn ugly.

Rivers that are used for rafting are separated into five classifications. Class one rivers are basically flat, smooth waters that can be easily navigated. Class five rivers are rapidly descending, treacherous waters that require considerable experience to navigate.

Class one rivers are for tiny little girls and wimps. Class five rivers are for studly men who like to the laugh in the face of the Grim Reaper. We chose a class three river, we were average men who like the laugh in the face of the Grim Reaper but only when the Grim Reaper is at a distance and busy with somebody else at the time.

The trip was going well, we had successfully navigated our way through several sets of rapids without major incident. It was then that the guide told us to bring our rafts to shore where he informed us that this was the part of the trip where we could walk back upstream and go back through the last set of rapids.

“What,” I asked casually, attempting to mask the alarm in my voice, “do you mean without the raft?”

“That’s right, you’re just going to jump in the water and go,” the guide said with an annoying amount of confidence.

“Are you certain that’s safe?”

“Absolutely, these are very deep rapids.”

“It’s safe because deep water is harder to drown in?”

“Yes…I mean, no. When it comes to rapids, deeper is safer.” I could detect a timbre of irritation creeping into his voice.

“Okay, I understand…I’m curious, what are your thoughts concerning skydiving without the parachute?”

I could tell by the dagger filled stare that was shooting my way, that is was time to stop asking questions. This was the man whom I would depend upon to pull semiconscious body from the water should the need arise.

One by one, like lemmings, we climbed onto the top of a small boulder and leapt into the river.

I made through the first two mini-rapids without a problem. It was the third set of rapids where a sudden surge of water lifted my body for a moment then pulled me under the surface. Murky river water shot up my nose at approximately 2000 mph, ricocheted off the bottom of my brain, then poured into my lungs.

Not wanting to be filled with murky river water, my lungs immediately expelled the water back through my mouth and nose with considerable force. My eyes, feeling left out, began to water profusely. I was now spinning out of control and my arms were flailing around like a crazed marionette.

This was the moment I chose to invent a new game. I call the game “Whack your face against the rock.” I invented this game approximately two seconds after the guide yelled, “Hey, don’t whack your face against the rock.”

“Are you okay?” the guide chortled, unable to mask his amusement. I signaled to him with a thumbs up…well, it was a single digit.

As I slowly spun out of the rapids and crawled to shore, gasping for air and coughing simultaneously (something that I had previously thought to be physically impossible) my friend asked, “Are you going to go again?”

“No,” I replied. “I think that I’m refreshed enough.”

river raft

The IOC is considering whack-your-face-against-the-rock for the 2020 Olympics.

Justin Bieber’s Shrunken Face: More Weird Search Terms

justin bieber

It’s just so little.

As always, these are all real search terms from my stats page, rewritten exactly the way I found them, followed by a quick comment from myself.

why does it look like my penis has bug bites on the bottom of it  You put your penis somewhere you shouldn’t have.

how to get wifes feet to stink like cheese   I found 36 different combinations with the words: wife, feet, stink and cheese. Thank you Freshly Pressed for making my blog a foot fetish destination.

sexy man riding a unicorn images  The poster on my bedroom wall, right next to my poster of Shaun Cassidy.

construction worker thumbs up thumbs up  One fifth of The Village People, really happy really happy.

mooning kilt  Aren’t all kilts for mooning?

my children’s story keep getting rejected  Your story, Little Billy’s First Kite and the High Voltage Power Lines, was a little disturbing.

childrens story limburger cheese  This one sucked too.

tom cruise is an idiot  I am very honored that Nicole Kidman visited my blog.

how many idiot are in the church of scientology  One less since Nicole left Tom.

cukes  Exactly.

katie holmes open mouth  Katie, stunned that I didn’t use her name for those jokes.

cartoon vomit on guy  The disastrous result of my prom date with Olive Oyl.

dental phobia funny jokes  There is nothing funny about dental phobias.

“pulled all his teeth”  See!

pi alamode  3.14 pieces of pie with ice cream on top.

bug eyed black guy  Dynomite! (If you get that reference, you’re old.)

bad guidance counselor of the year  The guidance counselor who advised this guy.

idiotprufs honey bee

His pay is all the honey he can eat.

Bug mac  More gross than a Big Mac, but slightly more nutritious.

Why you should start smoking  Because emphysema is fun to say.

a monkey was once tried and convicted for smoking a cigarette in south bend, indiana   Man, those priests at Notre Dame are strict.

best reasons for kids to start smoking  If a monkey can do it, it’s got to be fun.

tinkerbell playing football  The reason Disneyland’s football team sucks.

mcdonalds fries and rats  All I want is the rat, but they push the fries on me anyway.

snooki rhyme satire  Much better that Snooki Haiku.

limerick about idiots  But not as good as the limericks about Snooki.

cartoon boxers  Much more comfortable than cartoon briefs.

bee angry angry bee happy redd bee  One of Dr. Seuss’ lesser known works.

a vicious cartoon bear  Boo Boo finally got sick of Yogi’s crap.

instrument for digging holes  Really?

bigfoot smokes pot  So do you if you don’t know what a shovel is called.

job interview stoned  Not a good idea unless you’re applying to be Justin Bieber’s pilot.

justin biebers shrunken face  I’m more than a little proud this search term brought someone to this blog.

boy band with clown  Aren’t they all?

list of things that gets bulls angry  Bull-riders, rodeo clowns, matadors, and boy bands. (It should be noted, the entire animal kingdom hates boy bands, especially badgers.)

permanent cure for athletes foot  A hacksaw, a tourniquet, and a peg leg.

self-medication criteria in ungulates  Just don’t put their medication in child proof bottles; they have a horrible time opening them with their hoofed feet.

self medicating before family gatherings  Before…during…after.

stuff you never want to hear from a new neighbor  Hi, you probably recognize me from the Jersey Shore.

facts about bigfoot  They love Jack Links beef jerky, but they hate Jack Links Messin’ With Sasquatch commercials.

Sasquatch in the woods  That too.

facts about mermaids  They all have crabs. (As pets. What did you think I meant?)

can an idiot ride a unicorn  Only if he’s a mythological idiot.

my summer story pictures  Even the search term sounds boring.

girl tooth fairy girl green disney channel  ??????

squat comedy  I should be able to think of something funny for this, I just can’t.

lady gaga costume designer  Also her butcher.idiotprufs lady gaga

pee electricity words wisdom  The first and last time you will ever see those words together.

cartoon cows behind an electric fence  Are you sure that fence is electrified.

my penis hit an electric fence  The worst possible way to check if a fence is electrified.

funny surprised face  Your face two seconds after your penis touched that fence.

hysterical laughter cartoon  Your friends two seconds after your penis touched that fence.

looking detective search term idiotprufs

“Whoa, his face really has shrunken.”

It’s Just a Fact

Every parent believes their child is an adorable, angelic, bundle of perfection.

brat

You are horribly mistaken!

(You know who you are.)

They Must Be Stopped: the Garden Gnome Menace

We're here for you.

There are more of them everyday.

It is a well known and widely accepted fact that garden gnomes are evil creatures of the night.

They spend their days in an inanimate state, surrounding the homes of the naïve, who have become witless servants to their evil machinations.

They often assume silly poses and sport whimsical names such as Boddywinkle or Fudwick.

This whimsy is a lie.

This whimsy is a lie.

Do not be fooled by this subterfuge, they are maniacal creatures with evil plans.

This is far more typical behavior.

This is far more typical behavior.

There are some in the so-called “scientific community” who will try to tell you this is hokum, mere nonsense.

Some are those who are secretly working in concert with the gnomes, helping to propagate their plans for world domination.

Some of these men of science are just quacks; they don’t believe gardens gnomes come to life at night. They don’t believe in ghosts or bigfoot or that the Earth is flat. Quacks!

image source: wpclipart.com

“Garden gnomes are harmless decorations, and not at all sinister…I’m not a quack.”

Here is a short list of some of nighttime activities in which garden gnomes engage:

  • They pee on your vegetable garden. (This might also be the Gerald the neighbor kid.)
  • They taunt your neighbor’s dog so that it barks all freaking night. (Also possibly Gerald.)
  • They let the air out of your tires, but different amounts in every tire, so that your ride to work is really bumpy.
  • They sneak into your garage and replace all your English standard unit tools with metric tools, so that when you try to fix something, nothing quite fits.
  • In Canada, they do they opposite.
  • They put signs on your front door that read: Jehovah’s Witnesses Welcome.
  • They take one bite out of the apple, then put it back in the bowl.
  • They drive really slow in the fast lane.
  • They paint the phrase, Justin Bieber Rules, in bright pink letters on the side of your car. But they paint it on the passenger side, so you don’t see it right away, and drive all the way to work with people inexplicably pointing at you and laughing.
  • They fill your mailbox with pinecones. Really sticky ones.
  • They sneak into your home and replace all your Yuengling Traditional Lager with Natural Light.

See what I mean–pure evil.

There is a singular weapon that is particularly effective in the battle against garden gnomes: a silver plated shovel. (You can also kill them with a regular shovel, but it’s not nearly as cool.)

Gruesome but necessary.

Gruesome but necessary.

This menace must be dispatched.

Their plans to foment anarchy must be stopped.

Get your shovel today and join me in this call to arms.

Warning: You might have crybaby neighbors who have a proclivity for calling the police, acquiring court orders, or posting videos of you smashing their garden gnomes in your footy pajamas. So be careful.

Grab your weapon today.

An instrument of garden gnome death, or if you just need to dig hole, it’s good for that too.

Punch an Idiot in the Face Day

jack elam you sure ask a lot of questions
happy face idiot
wifes feet dont smell enough
cartoon scientists pictures
punch an idiot in the face day
bug eyed cartoon characters
job interview with gator boots
school counselors dumb
my idiot neighbor

Several random thoughts immediately leapt into my brain after this cluster of search terms appeared on my stats page.

Note: there’s a lot of room in my brain for random thoughts to leap, stretch out, or do an entire gymnastic floor routine; it’s pretty vacant up there.

Thoughts such as:

  • What kind of questions does Jack Elam ask, and why are there so many of them?
  • How badly do your wife’s feet have to smell for it to be enough?
  • How do you know my neighbor, and how do you know he has a happy face?
  • Would I look good in gator boots?
  • Wow, this blog certainly attracts some weirdos (but not you).
  • Punch and idiot in the face day? Is that a real thing?

After doing an extensive amount of research (Google) I discovered “punch an idiot in the face day” isn’t a real thing.

Bitter disappointment.

Then I had another thought: just because something isn’t a real thing, doesn’t mean it can’t be.

So after once again doing an extensive amount of research (Wikipedia) into the process of initiating a ballot measure in the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, I came to a conclusion: it’s a lot more work than I am willing to do.

Just a few of the things required:

  • A petition containing signatures equal to 10% of the last local general election vote for governor. (Governor? I thought Pennsylvania had a potentate.)
  • These signatures must be real people and not characters from Warner Brothers cartoons.
  • If your real name happens to be Elmer Fudd, there is an enormous amount of extra paperwork involved.
  • If your real name happens to be Elmer Fudd, your parents are dicks.
  • None of the signatures can be from dead people; this is not Illinois.
  • Petitions must be submitted by the 13th Tuesday before the election. Petitions may be circulated for (at most) 7 weeks, and circulation may not begin before the 20th Tuesday prior to the election. Initiated measures may be submitted at primary, municipal, or general elections…and must be written in yaks blood.
  • You must understand the previous requirement and be able to cite it verbatim while juggling running chain saws.
  • Election officials must submit successful initiatives to voters at the next primary, general, or municipal election occurring not sooner than the 13th Tuesday after the initiative was filed.
  • The successful initiatives mentioned in the previous requirement, must be submitted in triplicate with the third set written entirely in Egyptian hieroglyphics.
  • Every fifth word of every document must be written in a silly font.
  • Pointing out to any official, that the previous two requirements contradict each other, will result in the immediate disqualification of your ballot initiative. You will also be slapped in the face and poked in the eyes Three Stooges style.
  • The Pennsylvania election code requires you to obtain the following items: holy water, a cross, a wooden stake and a clove of  garlic. (Sorry, that’s the Transylvania election code.)
  • You must be able to find Harrisburg on a map of Pennsylvania.
  • You must be able to find Pennsylvania on a map of the United States.
  • You must be able to find Pennsylvania Avenue on a Monopoly Board.
  • If you roll doubles three times in a row, you have to go to jail.
  • You must purchase a lot of maps and board games.
  • Petition circulators must attest to the validity of petition signatures in a notarized affidavit.
  • You have to know what an affidavit is.
  • In some instances, you may have to sacrifice a small animal under a full moon.
  • You must be able to say name of, Intercourse Pennsylvania, without giggling.
  • You absolutely must be able to deal with bureaucrats without flipping out and stabbing someone in the face with a bayonet.

See what I mean, and this is just the first page.

Then I had another thought (I’ve been on fire with thoughts lately) I need to think like a politician: I just need to convince a bunch of willing dupes to pursue my vision, let them do all the work, then take all the credit when the initiative passes.

Brilliant.

I will keep you updated.

jack elam at idiotprufs

“Hello, I’m Jack Elam, and every day is punch an idiot in the face day for me, idiot.”

 

 

Use Your Good Eye…Idiot

(image source: wpcliparts.com)

People in this country will forgive a lot of things, maybe even most things, but there is one thing people find unforgivable.

One thing that is so contemptuous, so vile, that it will send normally docile people over the edge.

It causes the young and healthy to have debilitating brain aneurysms, and reduces white-haired grandmothers to obscene gestures and obscenity laced tirades.

It even caused Pope Francis to punch a mime in the face.

What is this one thing: people who screw-up traffic.

Note: I was just kidding about people who screw-up traffic causing Pope Francis to punch a mime in the face; mimes are the reason Pope Francis punched a mime in the face. 

Other motorists don’t care why you’re screwing up traffic, just that you are screwing up traffic. You could be slumped over your steering wheel with an arrow protruding from one of your eyes sockets and most compassionate thing you’re gonna hear from another motorist is: “Hey idiot–use your good eye.”

The incident causing traffic to be screwed-up could be completely beyond your control.

Note: In an unrelated matter, did you know that without transmission fluid, a car is less of an automobile and more of a giant metal traffic clogger? It is.

Here are just some of the ways you can screw-up traffic:

  • By driving.
  • By driving too slowly in the fast-lane; it’s called the fast-lane, people are trying to get somewhere.
  • By driving too fast; are you trying to kill someone, maniac?
  • By never using your turn signal; let people know what you’re doing. You’re obviously stupid, we just don’t know how stupid.
  • By driving for miles and miles with your turn signal blinking for no apparent reason.
  • By consuming 15 to 20 cans of Coors Light before driving your kids to Sunday School. (You know who you are.)
  • By sitting at a 4-way stop and gaping numbly at the other drivers when it’s clearly your turn to go.
  • By making an obscene gesture to another motorist who is gaping at you at a 4-way stop, even though it’s clearly his turn to go.
  • By taking your eyes off the road to text your friend; nothing you have to say is important.
  • By taking your eyes off the road to pick-up the cell phone you just dropped while texting your friend. (You will however need to find it to dial 911 after you hit that tree.)
  • By driving down the road with your seat-belt dangling from the door, making sparks on the road; it’s dangerous when you cause other motorists to laugh hysterically.
  • By having your automobile come to an abrupt stop in the middle of a busy street because your transmission fluid has suddenly drained from your car. (This is your not fault; you can tell all those idiots honking their horns to shove it.)

“Shove it!”
(image source: wpclipart.com)

Remember: it doesn’t matter why you’ve screwed-up traffic, just that you have.

Do you think that people hate O.J. Simpson because he got away with double-homicide? No. It’s because when the police came to get him, he got in that Ford Bronco, got on the California highway on a Friday afternoon and screwed-up traffic.

Names and Other Temporary Things


wrong tattoo

A mother’s effort to honor her young children went terribly wrong when the tattoo she got of her son’s name was spelled incorrectly — so she took what some might call an unusual approach. Fortunately her friends and family convinced her not to have her armed amputated, but to rename her son after the tattoo.

“Kevin,” the two-year-old son of Johanna Sandstrom, of Sweden, was renamed “Kelvin” after a tattoo artist inked the wrong name on her arm.

Sandstrom’s tattoo read: Nova & Kelvin which was clearly a mistake.

“I had never heard the name ‘Kelvin’ before,” she said. “There isn’t anyone who names their kid Kelvin; lots of people name their kids Fahrenheit or Celsius, but never Kelvin. So when I thought more about it, I realized that no one else has this name. It became unique. Now we think it is better than Kevin.”

It also seemed a lucky stroke for Sandstrom’s daughter, whose name was changed from Ass-faced Hag to Nova, following the erroneous tattoo.

When asked to explain the mistake, the Swedish tattoo artist simply said, “in my previous job I wrote the assembly instructions for Ikea products; I was bound to screw this up incomprehensibly.”

Sandstrom told the newspaper she’ll make sure to check “10,000 times” before she gets the name of her third child, Freja, tattooed.

“Or maybe I’ll just get a skull with a snake slithering through it’s eye socket,” she added, “it’s 50/50 right now.”

skull tattoo

This was supposed to read, Freja.

Cukes, Smug Neighbors, and Other Signs of Summer

 

vegetable garden

Your smug neighbor’s robustly growing garden–you needed a place to pee at night.

Your smug neighbor has planted his annual garden. In the coming months, he will regale you with baskets of fresh vegetables and tales of his horticultural prowess. He will explain to you that his garden has produced so overwhelmingly, that his own family couldn’t possibly consume all the bounty themselves. He will bring jars of homemade pickles and relish. “Everyone in the world loves homemade pickles and relish, especially the way my wife makes them,” he will tell you.

Stupid neighbor.

You decide to plant own garden in the corner of your yard. You want fresh tomatoes, zucchini, squash, maybe a few cukes. You have no idea what cukes are, but it’s fun to say so want them. You can imagine the results that will cover your dinner table. You can imagine the praise you are certain to receive from guests, satiated by the efforts of your labor and toiling. You have high hopes.

Unfortunately you run face first into one tiny problem: you are complete shit at growing things. (Except for ear hair–you grow ear hair like a wookie.)

You purchase a progression books as your efforts continuously fail:

  • The Beginner’s Guide To Growing A Garden.
  • The Idiot’s Guide To Growing A Garden
  • The Beginner-Idiot’s Guide To Growing a Garden.
  • Grow A Garden Even If You’re A Chimp, (And Not One of Those Clever Chimps That Can Do Sign Language, but One of Those Dopey Chimps That Eats It’s Own Poop).
  • The Guide To Growing A Garden if You’re Presence Destroys Life.
  • The Giant Catalog Of Plastic Plants.

Those books are now deposited in a bin labeled: things to be shred, burned, and buried in a deep hole.

Note: you purchased a few plastic plants, they inexplicably turn brown and fell apart. You choose to ignore the metaphysical ramifications that you are able to kill plastic.

Undaunted, you redouble your efforts.

After being told Native Americans placed a dead fish with the kernel when they planted corn, you consider raiding the family fish tank, but you don’t want to go through that drama again. Seriously, who gets that attached to fish?

Modifying slightly, you put a fish stick in the ground with every seed you plant. It doesn’t seem to help. You write a nasty letter to Mrs. Paul’s frozen seafood company, making wild accusations about artificial ingredients.

Mrs. Paul, who lives down the street from you accidentally receives the letter. Icy stares ensue.

Stupid Post Office.

Your snarky neighbor comments on how sickly your cukes look, but how your weeds are growing robustly.

You try come up with a clever retort, but you’re not clever.

“You’re a cuke,” you finally yell…five minutes after he’s left.

At last you have some success, only to discover that fresh vegetables are enjoyed by several of nature’s pests: bugs, worms, mice, gophers, and Gerald the neighbor kid.

You also discover that Gerald likes to pee on things. You purchase a taser, but you won’t use it on Gerald–the local authorities have confiscated it.

Stupid local authorities.

Finally, you discover the answer to all your problems; it’s called the farmers market.

Your dinner table now abounds with natures bounty, the fruits of hard labor and toiling, just not yours.

These are cukes. I've always had trouble with homonyms.

These are cukes? It looks like the Jolly Green Giant took a dump.

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