idiotpruf

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

Archive for the category “inspirational”

It’ll Be Refreshing, He Said

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 was fueled less by the tenacity of the water and 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 the 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 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 it was time to stop asking questions. This was the man whom I would depend upon to pull my semiconscious body from the water should the need arise.

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

I made it 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.

Barrel Shopping

barrel for going over falls

A barrel like this would be great…but I prefer something in color.

Now that I’ve decided to go over Niagara Falls in a barrel, a few slight logistical wrinkles need to be ironed out.

First and foremost: I need a barrel. I have several vital requirements for the barrel I choose for my journey over the falls:

  1. It must be watertight enough to endure the 681,750 gallons of water that travel over the falls per second without it filling with water and killing me horribly.
  2. It has to be sturdy enough to endure the 2,509 tons of force created by the 681,750 gallons of water that travel over the falls without losing structural integrity and killing me horribly.
  3. It must withstand the 167-foot drop without bursting on impact and killing me horribly.
  4. It must be spacious enough for me to comfortably fit into. (I don’t like to be cramped almost as much as I don’t like to be killed horribly.)
  5. It must fit onto the top of a Mercury Marquis. (I have bungee cords.)

My search for a suitable barrel has been less than fruitful.

It’s startling just how unhelpful the employees of Lowes are when it comes to barrel shopping.

You wouldn’t believe the slack-jawed looks I get when I ask them where they keep their barrels for going over waterfalls–they gape at me like I’m a moron.

The people at Ace Hardware are even less helpful. Their little jingle: “Ace is the place with the helpful hardware folks,” is a blatant and disgusting lie. It should be: “Ace is the place where smug, judgmental pricks named Todd question your mental stability.”

I went to a website of the deceivingly named Crate & Barrel–utterly useless unless you plan to go over Niagara Falls on an overpriced chaise lounge.

(I did, however, find a delightful celosia black hand-knotted area rug.)

It appears in order to find a suitable barrel for going over Niagara Falls, I’m required to have one custom-made.

Going over Niagara Falls in a barrel is turning out to be more difficult than I had imagined, but I will soldier on.

liquuor barrel

What a great barrel; I just have to empty it of the Jack Daniels inside–it’s a plan!

Love Hurts, but Not as Much as a Stab Wound

love hurts

I felt it was time to re-post these beautiful and poignant words.

I wrote this during a period of deep personal healing…but mostly, I was drunk.

Thank You Crazy Lady for Giving Us a Classic

christmas story

It was a chance encounter with a woman wearing a button that read: DISARM THE TOY INDUSTRY, in angry block red letters.

It’s all a Government plot to prepare the Innocent for evil, Godless War!  I know what they’re up to! Our committee is on to them, and we intend to expose this decadent Capitalistic evil!

She told him as she handed him a smudged pamphlet denouncing the U.S. as a citadel of warmongers, profit-greedy despoilers of the young and promoters of worldwide Capitalistic decadence, all through plastic popguns and Sears Roebuck fatigue suits for tots.

It was this encounter that led Jean Shepperd to recount his youthful almost maniacal desire for a Red-Ryder carbine-action range-model BB gun, and the lengths he went one Christmas in efforts to obtain one.

He then wrote the autobiographical essay, Duel in the Snow, or Red Ryder Nails the Cleveland Street Kid, which became the basis for A Christmas Story.

So thank you crazy lady for helping give us a classic.

Have a Merry Christmas, I triple-dog-dare you.triple dog dare

This Christmas Give the Gift of the Rutabaga

rutabaga

It’s Christmastime again: the perfect opportunity to brighten the spirits of a loved one with the gift of the rutabaga.

What’s so special about the rutabaga you may ponder–what isn’t so special about the rutabaga is my response.

  • They can be roasted.
  • They can be baked.
  • They can be boiled as a flavor enhancer in soups.
  • They can be boiled as a flavour enhancer in soups in Great Britain. (You wouldn’t believe how much tastier the soup is with that extra U in the word flavour.)
  • They can be thinly julienned as a side dish, in a salad, or as a garnish.
  • They can be thinly julienned and used to clean up oil spills in the driveway.
  • They can be mashed into a paste and used to degrease engines.
  • They can be mashed into a paste and used as a beautifying face cream. (It won’t make you more attractive, but it will cover your face–which if you’re being honest, is the problem.)
  • You can make rutabaga ice cream.
  • You can make a rudimentary boiled rutabaga stew that was a staple of famine-ridden Europe during the war and pretend you’re living in famine-ridden Europe during the war…because pretending is fun.
  • You can chuck them at the heads of people you don’t like.
  • You can chuck them at the heads of people you’re ambivalent about.
  • You can chuck them at the heads of people you do like. (The thunk of a rutabaga bouncing off a human skull is surprisingly satisfying regardless of the target.)
  • You can fill your child’s stocking with them. (But ensure they’re fresh; they can attract flies.)
  • You can use them to attract flies.
  • You can carve them into lanterns as was the old Irish tradition.
  • You can carve them into lanterns and chuck them at people’s heads. (Hopefully the beginnings of a new tradition.)
  • And finally, you can make the traditional Finnish Christmas dish Lanttulaatikko.
rutabaga dish

Lanttulaatikko is a delicious Finnish Christmas dish–you can also chuck it at people’s heads.

Addendum: Don’t make rutabaga ice cream–it sucks.

Virginia Zoo Misplaces Weird Looking Panda

red-panda-2The Virginia Zoo has announced that it has lost Sunny, its prized red panda. A frantic search was launched Tuesday morning when it was discovered Sunny wasn’t in her enclosure.

Upon investigation it was discovered a dimwitted caretaker named Ron was responsible for the escape. It seems Ron believing that Sunny was some weird raccoon that had gotten into the panda enclosure, opened the gate and shooed it away by manically waving a feces encrusted pitchfork and screaming, “git you weird raccoon, git.”

It seems the zoo has endured several odd mishaps at the hands of Ron; some of them involving misplaced animals, many of them involving feces, all of them disturbing.

“The biggest problem we have with Ron is that he is almost completely stupid,” one zoo official said. “He was kicked repeatedly in the head by a bongo antelope, and he was remarkably stupid before he got repeatedly kicked in the head by a bongo antelope. You should never try to collect animals’ feces by standing behind it with a bucket.”

bongo antelope

Bongo antelopes prefer to do their business in private.

After days of searching, Sunny still has not been located. Zoo officials fear the red panda has escaped the boundaries of the Zoo.

“Ron has a way of driving things away,” the zoo official said. “Usually it’s women, but I guess this time it was a red panda.”

While the zoo officials remain hopeful, they do concede that when Ron drives something away, it generally flees the state and changes its name.

Addendum

While recalling one incident involving Ron, a wombat, and a bag of feces, one colleague began to laugh so hysterically he lost consciousness.

wombat poop

Wombat feces: they do look like brownies, especially if you’re an idiot.

Experts


expert
Ours is a nation whose shores are teeming with experts. They are vital to our existence. We could barely function on a daily basis if not for these titans of knowledge, and purveyors of wisdom.

We know these things because it’s what they tell us.

We expect our experts to tell us much, and much they tell us:

  • They tell us what to do.
  • They tell us what not to do.
  • They tell us what to think.
  • They tell us what not to think.
  • They tell us where we should go.
  • They tell us where we shouldn’t go.
  • They tell us not to be long-winded.
  • But they use a lot of words to tell us.
  • They tell us not to be abrupt.
  • But they say it very abruptly.
  • They tell us not to make things too complicated.
  • They tell us not to make things too simple.
  • They tell us how simple it is to not make things complicated.
  • But they tell us in way that’s really complicated.
  • They tell us what to say.
  • They tell us what not to say.
  • They tell us not to pronounce the T in the word often.
  • But when they tell us, they pronounce the T in the word often.
  • And they do it often.
  • They tell us not to interrupt people.
  • But they interrupt to tell us.
  • They tell us what to write.
  • They tell us what not to write.
  • They tell us not to end a sentence with a preposition.
  • But you can end a sentence with the word preposition.
  • You can do it twice in a row.
  • They tell us what to eat.
  • They tell us what not to eat.
  • They tell us how long to boil an egg.
  • They tell us how long not boil an egg.
  • Don’t boil eggs–poach them!
  • Stop! Eggs are bad for you.
  • Now they’re not.
  • Now they are again.
  • Now they’re not again, as long as you don’t put salt on them; salt is very bad for you.
  • Now salt isn’t bad for you.
  • Now it is again.
  • They tell us not be contradictory.
  • They tell us not to be smug.
  • But they’re really smug about it.
  • They tell us what to read.
  • They tell us what not to read.
  • Starting with seemingly endless and annoying lists.
  • They tell us how to feel.
  • They tell us how not to feel.
  • When we feel miserable, they tell us why we feel miserable.
  • When we don’t feel miserable, they tell us why we should feel miserable.
  • When we feel happy, they knock some sense into us, so we can get back to the business of feeling miserable.
  • They tell us what to do to avoid death.
  • When we do what they say and die anyway, they tell our relatives why it wasn’t their fault.
  • And they demonstrate to us the importance of employing high-powered lawyers, in the event that some people actually follow their advice.

If not for the tireless work of experts, how many of us would still be living under the dark veil of happiness.

It must be exhausting being an expert.

If you should happen to see an expert on the street today, be sure to stop and give them a heartfelt thank you.

If you don’t know how to properly give a heartful thank you: ask the expert, they’ll know.Dilbert. point haired boss

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.

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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