idiotprufs

Read by four out of five drunken monkeys, written by the fifth.

Archive for the category “idiotprufs”

Three Bears Respond to Allegations

The Forest–That infamous flaxen haired denizen of the forest, Goldilocks, who rose to fame after an episode of trespassing, has again become the cause of turmoil for a family of bears.

“Our lives have been miserable since the story of ‘Goldilocks and the Three Bears’ has gotten out,” said an angry Mama Bear. “All of that girl’s wild claims have spread through the forest like an infestation of deer ticks.”

According to Mama Bear, her homemaking skills have come under great scrutiny since the event.

“I can’t go anywhere in the woods without some simpleton creature poking fun at my culinary skills,” Mama Bear said disgustedly. “‘Ooh, your porridge is too hot, ooh, your porridge is too cold’ it never ends. Do you know what it’s like to be mocked by squirrels…all squirrels do is collect freaking nuts!”

Papa bear was reluctant to comment about Mama Bear’s porridge. “If Goldilocks thought that porridge was hot, she should see Mama Bear’s temper when you criticize her cooking.”

“But seriously,” Goldilocks responded, “how do you make some of your porridge too hot and some of your porridge too cold? I mean, how do you do that?”

“Baby Bear was horribly traumatized by the whole incident,” Mama Bear said angrily. “Not only did that vixen eat all of his porridge and sleep in his bed, she broke his favorite chair.”

“It was a shame about Baby Bear’s chair,” Papa Bear conceded, “but not having to eat any of that porridge probably wasn’t the worst thing in the world for him.” 

“It hasn’t been all one sided,” Goldilocks responded. “When it got out that I broke a chair made for a bear just by sitting in it, let’s just say the term fat ass has been thrown out there a lot. And I’m fairly certain I got chiggers from Mama Bear’s bed.”

“What kind of maniac just busts into someone’s home, eats their food, and sleeps in their beds?” Mama Bear growled.

“If they didn’t want anybody in their house, they should have hidden the key to their front door better,” Goldilocks said defiantly. “The key was right there under the welcome mat–that’s practically an invitation to come in.”

“We just want to put all of this behind us.” Papa Bear said before adding one final thought. “Sometimes Mama Bear’s porridge isn’t that great…don’t tell her I said that.”

broken chair idiotprufs
Just some of Goldilocks’ handiwork.

Murder and Cheese Dip

Party table
What a lovely looking party…it’d be a shame if somebody ruined it.

What if murder wasn’t illegal?

What if murder was just a thing considered rude–something you wouldn’t do at a friend’s party?

Imagine you were invited to a party at a friends house? While at this party you have a bit too much drink.

During the festivities you question the host’s taste in decor. You toss out phrases like: garish, glitteringly obnoxious, tasteless, and the truly unfortunate phrase: just plain butt-ugly.

During this party, you cause a perfectly nice couple to storm out after you ask them if they named their daughter Liz because she bears an uncanny resemblance to a lizard.

At some point during the night, you murder a guy named Mitch with a waffle iron.

And through an unfortunate accident, you ruin the cheese dip.

Now imagine the thing your friend is the most upset about is the cheese dip. In fact, everyone is mad at you because the cheese dip was really good.

“Did you have to hit Mitch in the back of the head with a waffle iron?” your friend yells at you. “You made him fall face first into the cheese dip…now no one will eat the cheese dip.”

The next morning you apologize profusely as you make your friend some pancakes. (You’d make waffles but the back of Mitch’s head ruined the waffle iron.)

You apologize for the remarks you made about the decor. The decor is perfectly lovely if you’re colorblind, or just plain blind.

You phone that nice couple and apologize for implying their daughter looks like a lizard. (Just because it’s true doesn’t mean it needs to be said.)

You apologize for insinuating that your friend’s wife dresses a tad slutty. Then you remember that you never actually said that out loud, so you apologize for that.

But most emphatically, you apologize for the cheese dip, because the cheese dip was truly delicious.

What you don’t apologize for is Mitch, because Mitch was a dick. Besides, it’s not like murder is illegal.

cheese dip
The cheese dip, prior to Mitch’s dead face.

Ballot Initiative: 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.”

 

 

City To Address Increase In Lawn Mattresses — gooferie

Concerned residents Erie’s lower west side are expressing frustration at the growing number of discarded mattresses outside of neighborhood homes. “It’s disgusting.” said local resident Richard Colburn. “Some houses have up to 4 or 5 mattresses stacked up like thick, fetid pancakes on their front lawns. I also blame those Schultz guys with their constant […]

City To Address Increase In Lawn Mattresses — gooferie

I’m a Horrible Person

futurama

I know.

I’ve recently discovered I’m a soulless monster. My children are doomed to be soulless monsters. My children’s children are doomed to be soulless monsters. In fact, all of my descendants have a bleak soulless future.

It sucks.

All of this was pointed out to me by a woman who was quite certain I was pure evil.

What did I do to incur such condemnation–such wrath?

Did I murder someone?

No.

Did I steal from anyone?

No.

Did I punch a mime in the face at a child’s birthday party?

No–and he was really asking for it.

Did I harm any person in any manner?

No.

Did I club a baby seal?

Of course not.

Did I club Seal the singer?

Never. His music brings such joy to the world.

Did I smash a neighbor’s garden gnome with a shovel then pee on its remains?

Not that he can prove.

Did I get in the 12 items or less line with more than 12 items?

No.

Did I use the word less when the word fewer applied?

Apparently.

Did I keep a library book overdue for an extended period of time?

No.

Was the library book I kept overdue for an extended period of time, a self-help book titled: How to be Prompt, responsible, and Stop Compulsively Lying About not Keeping Library Books Overdue for Extended Periods of Time?

No???

Did I casually comment that I didn’t care for the movie Dances with Wolves?

Yes!

Evidently this is the worst thing a human can do. Not only does it reveal a horribly flawed taste in cinema, but it is also a mark of disrespect for the Native American culture.

Ridiculous! Did you realize the director’s cut of the movie is four hours long? If it were an erection, I would have had to call a doctor. And I can have a lot more fun with an erection than I can with a DVD of Dances with Wolves.

I quite enjoyed Braveheart, does that mean I hate the English?

Of course not. I love the English and their delicious muffins that perfectly hold in the buttery goodness.

I liked King Kong, does that mean I don’t like giant apes, and want to drop them from skyscrapers?

I love giant apes in every incarnation, from Mighty Joe Young to Grape Ape.

grape ape

He’s a giant ape and he’s grape–what’s not to like?

I really enjoyed Mississippi Burning, does that mean don’t like the KKK?

Okay…that was a bad example.

I thought The Children of the Corn was creepy and disturbing, does that mean I think children and corn are creepy and disturbing?

Well…I don’t think corn is creepy and disturbing.

I liked Roadhouse, does that mean I have a flawed taste in cinema?

Probably, but what are you gonna do?

I didn’t like Out of Africa, does that mean I don’t like…

I have no idea what that movie is about; it was so dreadfully boring, I quit paying attention early on.

I think Lawrence of Arabia is one of the greatest movies ever made, does that mean I don’t like the Turks?

To be honest, I spend precious little time contemplating the Turks.

I liked The Road Warrior, does that mean I want cataclysmic events to wipe out the majority of the world’s population?

I’ll get back to you on this one.

The point is, I didn’t like Dances with Wolves because I didn’t like it. It’s just an opinion and I’m allowed to have it.

If you’ve read this blog to any extent, (and if you have–I apologize) you understand my personal preferences are a little off in many regards.

I’ve had many people express their distaste for this blog, and I’m perfectly fine with it. (They’re all stupid-heads anyway.)

dances with wolves

If the movie had been about this dancing dog, I would have loved it.

Welcome to the Neighborhood

There are just some things you just don’t want to hear come out of your new neighbor’s mouth.

  • Once we get the lab up and running, we can give you a great deal on crystal meth.
  • You’ll have to excuse my wife, she has a form of voluntary Tourette’s syndrome. Your home is lovely, and your wife doesn’t at all have the appearance of a fat slutty whore.
  • This seems like a nice quiet neighborhood where we can await the return of the mothership.
  • I love this big spacious backyard, it’s perfect for burying evidence.
  • I don’t see any cinder blocks in your front yard; where do you keep all of your old appliances?
  • I’m going to paint my entire house hot pink, with giant flaming skulls on the side; your property value is going to soar.
  • We really needed to find a bigger home; swamp rats really multiply fast.
  • We had to move leave our last neighborhood; all our neighbor’s homes kept inexplicably burning down. Billy, put down those matches and come meet the new neighbors.
  • We’re the Mitchells and this is our son Dennis. Sorry about that welt on your forehead; Dennis is a crack shot with that slingshot of his.
  • It’s okay, you can shake my hand, leprosy isn’t nearly as contagious as most people think.
  • This is our son Damien, some people think he’s the antichrist, but really, he’s just mischievous. But seriously, if you see him on a tricycle, back away.
  • The witness protection people put me here because I whacked like fifty people, and then I ratted out the family to stay off death row…I mean, my name is Ed and I’m an accountant.
  • Hi, my name’s Joe Exotic.
  • We’re members of the Society of Obese Sweaty Nudists, we’ll be holding our weekly meetings in the backyard.
  • Would you like to meet Yancey and Theodore, our pet howler monkeys.
  • Do you like garden gnomes as much as I like garden gnomes? I hope you do, because I have hundreds of them.
  • I’m Hannibal Lecter, I’d love to have you over for dinner.
  • We’re not actual neo-Nazis, they weren’t radical enough for us.
  • I hope your family loves to yodel as much as our family loves to yodel.
  • No. We didn’t shave off all of our body hair because the cult makes us, we just like the way it feels. Although, the testicle piercing was mandatory.
  • Pay no mind to the roosters, they only crow at sunrise.
  • Our pet pythons only escape once in a while…you don’t have small children do you?
  • You won’t have to worry about noisy lawnmowers with us, all the goats and sheep take care of our lawn.
  • We’re here to do a television show: The Desperate Housewives of Erie, Pennsylvania.

bad neighbor

“I’m really into topiary.”

Beware the Ides of March…and Salad With Anchovies

ides of march

On March 15, 44 BC. Julius Caesar was stabbed to death in the Theatre of Pompey at a meeting of the senate by as many as 60 conspirators.

Note: The Theatre of Pompey was showing the remake of Footloose at the time. It was the second most disappointing part of Caesar’s day.

Upon realizing one the conspirators was his friend Brutus, he uttered the now infamous phrase, “Et tu Bluto.”

It was at that point Brutus became enraged and screamed, “Bluto is the character from the Popeye cartoons you imbecile; my name is Brutus. How many times do I have to tell you that?” Brutus then stabbed Caesar repeatedly.

Bluto Popeye

Bluto and Brutus are not the same person. Just ask that smug tenth grade English teacher of yours.

Historians will tell you Julius Caesar’s assassination was politically motivated and the result of rising tensions between Caesar and the Senate. Historians will also tell you several Senators feared Caesar would overthrow the Senate in favor of tyranny. Historians are always blathering on about something in the past.

Well, historians are full of it.

I know the real story: everyone was just sick of Caesar forcing them to put anchovies on their salads.–anchovies are gross.

Final Note: the word assassination has the word ass in it twice. That amuses me more than it should.

Caesar salad

A delicious plate of Caesar Salad. Because there is nothing more appetizing than dead rotting fish.

Just a Few idiotprufs

Wile E. Coyote

Wile E. Coyote, idiotprufs legend.

Idiot: a dolt, a dullard, a mentally deficient person, the guy who drives down the road with his seatbelt hanging from the door making sparks on the road.

idiotpruf: Any lesson learned as the direct result of an overt act of idiocy, or the observation of an overt act of idiocy. An act that proves that you are in fact an idiot.

Example: If you don’t want to be mocked by other motorist; don’t drive down the road with your seatbelt hanging from the door making sparks on the road.

I’ve been compiling a list of idiotprufs based on my own acts of idiocy, from observing the acts of idiocy of others, and from stories I’ve been told.

Just a Few idiotprufs

  • Regardless of how far your garden hose sprays; you’re still too close to the bees nest.
  • Being asked,”and what did we learn today,” as bee stingers are being pulled from your face, is the epitome of adding insult to injury.
  • Don’t try to remove a hornet’s nest from your garage by burning it out; you will wind up with half a garage, and a hornet’s nest.
  • You never want to find out the quantifying measure for the phrase, mad as a hornet.
  • Firemen like to say snide things as they hose down the side of your garage.
  • Regardless of how sturdy an umbrella seems, it is not an adequate substitute for a parachute.
  • You can be lying in a crumpled mass in the dirt, broken bones (some of them relatively important) jutting through your skin, and the first thing an adult will think to say is “what in the world did you think would happen if you jumped off the roof?”
  • Never try to pound a nail into something above your head using the dull side of a hatchet; misusing a hatchet in this way might cause its head to pop off.
  • A hatchet head only has to fall a foot or two to cause a considerable amount of damage to a human skull.
  • Head wounds bleed a lot.
  • If you don’t want to be bitten by the big brown snake; don’t poke at it with a stick.
  • Snake bites bleed a lot.
  • The average household vacuum cleaner is not designed to pick up paperclips; attempting to do so may cause the average household vacuum cleaner to explode and catch on fire.
  • A burning vacuum cleaner may also ignite the carpet.
  • A burning carpet will set off every smoke alarm in the house.
  • Smoke alarms are loud.
  • Melting Play-Doh in a frying pan seems like a brilliant scientific experiment to a child.
  • That child’s mother: not so much.
  • Burning Play-Doh will set off a smoke alarm.
  • Smoke alarms are loud.
  • One errant sock in the laundry can turn an entire load of whites into a load of pinks.
  • “Hey, you know that pink sweatshirt you love so much?” is not a good way to tell your roommate that you’ve turned the laundry pink.
  • A healthy dose of bleach will turn anything white.
  • A healthy dose of bleach will also give you a pile of really white rags.
  • “Hey, you know that really white sweatshirt full of holes you love so much?” is not a good way to tell your roommate that you’ve used too much bleach on the laundry.
  • A car that has been run out of motor oil, is less of automobile, and more of giant metal traffic clogger.
  • Asking your girlfriend, whose car has been run out of motor oil, if she knows why it’s called a dipstick, is a really bad idea.
  • When your girlfriend asks, “how stupid do you think I am?” she is not looking for a quantifying answer.
  • The phrase “some day we’ll look back at this and laugh” doesn’t always apply.

Seriously, I literally have hundreds of these.

I’m finding that everybody has some, do you?

Addendum

The actual word idiot-proof is a misnomer; there is nothing a true idiot can’t screw-up when given the chance.

idiotpruf

Exactly.

Seriously, I Don’t Want to Dance

the office dancing

Do you really want David Brent as a role model?

It would seem not everyone got the message the first time this post was published. So here it is again–soak it in.

Why is this world polluted with people who are determined to make me dance? Loud, pushy, abrasive, overbearing, manipulative, overlords of what is or is not judged to be enjoyable. People who won’t take no for an answer. People who believe they have a better grasp of what’s in my brain than I do.

What I say: I don’t want to dance.

What they hear: I pretend I don’t want to dance, but secretly, it’s my deepest yearning. If it weren’t for debilitating fear and self-loathing, I’d be out on the dance floor right now, living the dream.

What I say: seriously, I don’t want to dance.

What they hear: if only there were some loud, pushy, abrasive, overbearing, manipulative, overlord of what is or is not judged to be enjoyable, to goad and badger me into doing what I’ve secretly always wanted to do anyway.

What I say: get away from me you drooling half-wit.

What they hear: grab my arm like a slack-jawed oaf, and physically drag me onto the dance floor.

I am not responsible for anything that happens from that moment forward. I am certain the person who coined the phrase, “justifiable homicide” was just some poor fellow who earnestly didn’t want to dance.

Note: I’m sure when his jaw is no longer wired shut, the person described in the scenario above, will apologize to me.

Let’s make one thing clear: just because you like a certain thing, it doesn’t follow that every other human should also like that thing. Loads of different people like loads of different things.

Jeffrey Dahmer quite enjoyed killing people, hacking them up, eating them, and stowing the leftovers in his freezer. I can write with a relative degree of certainty, most human beings wouldn’t much care for that.

I have never once thought to myself: killing people, hacking them up, eating them, and stowing the leftovers in my freezer, seems like a horrific and frankly evil thing to do…but Jeffrey Dahmer thought it was a lovely thing to do. Perhaps I’m looking at this all backwards. I’ve got plenty of room in my freezer, and there are several acquaintances in my sphere of influence I could readily live without (mostly the few who try to make me dance).

If only the local learning annex offered some course on beginner cannibalism. It’s all scrapbooking this and scrapbooking that, down at that place.

And I don’t need to be the center of attention to enjoy myself–in fact, it’s preferable not to be.

Just because I’m not standing on a chair, singing Love Shack at the top of my lungs, juggling shot-glasses, while I wildly thrust my hips into the air in a suggestive manner, doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying myself.

I don’t see life through the same self-absorbed prism as you.

You imagine I’m thinking: if only I could summon the courage, that would be me on that chair.

When I’m really thinking: if only I could summon the courage, I would kick that chair from under that jackasses feet. That would make me smile.

Also, don’t tell me to smile.

I smile plenty.

I smile when it’s appropriate.

I smile when I’m happy, when I’m with my friends, when something good happens.

I smile when a jackass falls from his chair and shot-glasses cascade across his face.

Note: sometimes I summon the courage.

People who go around smiling for no apparent reason are mental. I am not mental (fingers crossed).

crazy smile

This is how you appear to the rest of the world.

Being a naturally quiet person or an introvert is not a problem that needs to be fixed–just leave me be.

A Quick PSA for Loud-mouthed Pricks

loud mouth

“Act just like me–I’m cool.”

I have a quick message for all the fun loving people loud-mouthed idiots out there who think I should behave the way they do.

Stop It!

Just because you want dance on a table, juggling shot glasses, butchering the lyrics to Love Shack at the top of your lungs, as your testicles dangle from your pants, doesn’t mean that I also want to do that.

I don’t want to see that happening.

I don’t want to be within the proximity of that happening.

I don’t even want the knowledge of that ever occurring.

I assume as a male of the species you have testicles–I don’t need proof.

And I know what’s in my own mind.

If I say I don’t want to pound shots of tequila–I don’t want to pound shots of tequila. I know you think it’s not a party until you’ve vomited on someone’s shoes, but not everyone appreciates having to clean chunks out of their shoelaces.

And for the love of all that is good and merciful, stop trying to make me sing karaoke. We defeated Japan in World War II and they gave us karaoke–let’s just call it even.

Also, why do we excuse boorish behavior based on the fact that it’s habitual.

If a person acts like a jerk once or twice, he’s being a jerk. However, if a person has a pattern of acting like a jerk it’s simply sloughed off as a personality trait.

If Timothy acts like a giant prick today–then Timothy is being a giant prick.

But if Timothy acts like a giant prick on a daily basis, multiple times a day with a seemingly limitless reservoir of giant prickness–then that’s just Tim being Tim.

Wrong!

Timothy is a giant prick! Period!

It’s like saying: sure Theodore Bundy was kidnapper, rapist, necrophile who confessed to torturing and murdering over thirty young women, but that was just Ted being Ted.

And stop describing your giant prick behavior as: “just keeping it real.”

You’re really a giant loud-mouthed prick.

Thank you for allowing me to get that off me chest. I feel much better now.hush now

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