The Tenth Circle of Hell
I firmly believe that if Dante Alighieri were alive today and writing the Divine Comedy, he would add a tenth circle of Hell, and it would be The Home Depot service desk.
idiotpruf
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Medusa Banned from Hair Salon
Island of Sarpedon–Athena, the proprietor of Athena’s Temple of Hair, Nails, and Greek Yogurt, has caused a stir by refusing to serve one of her most loyal customers.
“I’ve been going to Athena’s Temple for years,” a distraught Medusa commented. “Suddenly, it seems that my presence in her salon is a problem.”
“When Medusa and her sisters Stheno and Euryale would stop by, it was delightful,” Athena said. “They were all so easy to deal with, especially Medusa; she had flowing locks of golden hair with nary a split end–unfortunately, things are a little different now.”
“I got involved with Poseidon, became pregnant, and my body went through a few changes,” Medusa demanded, “is that so horrible? Quite frankly, it smacks of body shaming.”
“A few changes?” Athena responded indignantly. “Her hair was transformed into a writhing mass of hissing venomous snakes…and some of them are really mean. And that’s not the worst of it: her face is so hideous, merely gazing upon it turns a person to stone.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say about a person,” Medusa replied when informed of Athena’s statement.
“Do you know what’s even more terrible?” Athena retorted. “Being turned to stone. Did you notice all those statues I have in front of the Temple? They’re all former employees; do you have any idea what that does to your insurance?”
“I don’t deserve this treatment,” Medusa lamented.
“My best haircutter, Janice, sneezed just as she was turned to stone. Now her face is stuck in stone in that ridiculous position forever. Did Janice deserve that?” Athena asked.
“I don’t know what I’ll do now that I can’t go to Athena’s,” Medusa lamented.
“There’s a reptile farm down the street,” Athena replied tersely.
“That’s so very hurtful,” Medusa said as she wiped a tear from one of the serpent’s eyes.
Builder to Sue Three Little Pigs
“It’s given the whole straw house industry a bad name,” Cyril Tottering, the proprietor of Tottering Straw Homes Inc., complained.
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 blow down one of my straw houses.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” the First Little Pig said, “The Big Bad Wolf huffed and puffed and coughed a bit; he was a smoker, but then he blew the house down.”
“My straw houses pass rigorous testing,” Mr. Tottering asserted.
“I guess none of that ‘rigorous testing’ involves a lit match,” the Third Little Pig responded snidely. “Tottering came around trying to sell me one of those crappy straw houses; 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.”
“We could ask Mr. Wolf what really happened, but evidently, the pigs boiled him in oil,” Mr. Tottering explained. “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 stated. “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 scowled.
Mr. Tottering informed us that he and Mr. Dennis Flimsy, owner of Flimsy Stick Homes Inc., are teaming up 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 an excellent deal at the time,” the First Little Pig explained.
“Who would think wolves have such lung capacity?” the Second Little Pig added.
Luckily for the Three Little Pigs, the Third Little Pig’s brick house was impervious to the wolf’s blowing.
“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 jerk about that big brick house of his.”
Resolve Yourself
As the new year arrives, the annual acts of introspection, personal assessment, and deep soul-searching are effervescing across the nation, spurring aspirations for self-improvement.
The New Year’s resolutions abound.
Some resolutions are to purge undesirable habits: smoking, picking your nose, being Joy Behar, punching people in the face who press you on what your New Year’s resolutions are.
Some resolutions are to adopt desirable habits: a healthy diet, good hygiene, not being Joy Behar, apologizing profusely after punching the person in the face who pressed you on what your New Year’s resolutions are.
Some people simply resolve to approach life with a more positive attitude toward their fellow man; they feel they can make the world a brighter place.
To all of this, I have one response: Wake Up Fools! Your fellow man sucks.
You’re awesome; it’s everybody else that needs to change.
To that end, here is my 2025 list of resolutions for others:
- Don’t walk around on December 31st and say, “See you next year” to everyone you meet and chortle as if you’ve just invented it.
- Don’t respond to the “See you next year” guy by sharpening a stick to a fine point and poking him in the eye with it as you say, “Now you won’t,” regardless of how appropriate it may seem.
- If somebody says something you find funny, just laugh like a normal human being; don’t say lol out loud.
- Don’t ride your skateboard in the middle of the street as if you own it; I will run you over, you smug little bastard.
- Don’t run around showing people pictures of a footprint that you think is indisputable proof of Bigfoot. Your wife has hobbit feet and she walks around barefoot entirely too much.
- Don’t place your new mooning garden gnome, Willard, facing your neighbor’s kitchen window.
- Don’t act all surprised when your new mooning garden gnome, Willard, is mysteriously smashed to bits in the middle of the night.
- Don’t accuse your neighbor of things you can’t prove.
- Don’t inadvertently set your garage on fire while attempting to rid it of a hornet’s nest with a road flare. As funny as it was, you’re a menace to the neighborhood.
- If you’re a mime, don’t be.
- Don’t bring the express lane at the supermarket to a screeching halt by getting into a protracted conversation about your nephew Josh with the cashier. We’re all upset that he’s back in jail, but if you’re on probation, you shouldn’t be smoking crack.
- If you’re on probation, don’t smoke crack.
- If you are on probation and you are smoking crack, don’t do it in your car.
- If you are on probation and you are smoking crack in your car, don’t do it while driving over the speed limit…or on the sidewalk.
- Don’t post proof of your probationary violations on Facebook with the description: look what I did.
- Don’t tweet about your incriminating Facebook post just to ensure everyone sees it.
- Don’t assure someone that you have beer in your fridge and then hand them a Natural Light.
- Put all the baby pictures away; your first three children were ugly, and I’m sure this one will be, too.
- Everything your child does is not precious unless, by precious, you mean annoying beyond the ability to be described with words.
- It’s never good to start a story with the phrase: my child did the most precious thing in juvenile court today.
- Don’t get all pissy when you see something on a list that you think may pertain to you; it absolutely does pertain to you. Learn from it.
- Finally and simply: don’t pretend you’re not a moron if you are a moron (you know who you are).
Addendum: I saw the picture of your baby; he looks like a potato.
We barely knew you.
Scorpion Stings Man in the Nuts
A man is suing the Venetian Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada, after an unfortunate incident that occurred during his stay.
Michael Farchi says he awoke in the middle of the night to discover he was being stung in the testicles by a scorpion.
(I’m not making this up.)
According to Michael, he was stung multiple times in the naughty bits, which was later confirmed by doctors at a local hospital after they were done laughing.
Michael claims he is still suffering health issues from the attack that occurred on Dec. 26th.
Perhaps Las Vegas should change its motto to “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas…unless you’re stung in the nuggets a bunch of times by a scorpion.”
“Nobody staying in Vegas needs to [be] exposed to deadly scorpions while they’re sleeping, let alone on their private parts, their testicles,” said his attorney, Brian Virag.
I would argue the Vegas part is irrelevant; nobody needs to be stung in the testicles by a scorpion at anytime, anywhere, ever.
Michael claims that even though his family cut the vacation short, he still had to pay the Venetian Hotel for the stay.
I have to say, the Venetians may good at canals, glass-blowing, and masks (and I love all the work they’ve done with blinds), but they suck at running hotels.
But there is a forgotten part of this story: what about the poor scorpion.
“It was horrifying,” the scorpion said, “I woke up, and there were two big hairy nuts in my face. I stung them as many times as I could; I barely got away with my life.”
Stanley (the scorpion’s name is Stanley) went on to describe how he would probably be traumatized for life. “Every time I see a picture of a canal, I break down and sob uncontrollably,” he stated.
There is no word yet on whether, or not Stanley will take legal action against the Venetian Hotel.
Here’s hoping for a speedy recovery for both Michael and Stanley.
Testicles or Lack Thereof
His name was Bill, and I had just met him five minutes previously. It was my first day on the job, and I was helping him.
We worked silently for a few minutes before he turned to me and said with stunning nonchalance, “Yeah. I’ve only got one testicle.”
I tried not to gape stupidly. I failed.
I prefer to know someone for at least one full day before I work my testicles into a conversation. Bill was obviously of a different mind.
He looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to say, “great, tell me more about your testicles, or lack thereof. I’m keen to hear.”
But I continued to gape stupidly, searching my mind for an appropriate response.
My mind failed me spectacularly; I replied by saying, “I have two of them?”
And yes, I said it as a question. I’m still trying to understand why I felt confused.
Perhaps I simply didn’t want to appear as though I was bragging. If I had confidently said, “I have two testicles–the proper amount,” that would have seemed grandiose.
He looked at me like I was an idiot.
I felt like an idiot.
There was that inevitable awkward silence that occurs when two men discuss their testicles for the first time.
Undeterred by my idiocy, he launched into the story, “I was out in my garage having a few beers when I thought to myself: this would be a good time to try out my new nail gun.”
The next several minutes were horrifying. I will spare you details because they involve a man piercing his testicle with a nail.
I did learn some things from Bill:
- Shockingly, alcohol and power tools don’t mix.
- Nail guns are designed to drive a nail through wood or plaster. The fact that a nail gun will readily penetrate a layer of denim and your scrotum just goes without saying.
- A nail in your testicle really hurts.
- A nail in your testicle will bleed a lot.
- It’s challenging to drive yourself to the hospital with a nail in your testicle.
- It’s difficult to walk with a nail in your testicle.
- It’s even hard to breathe with a nail in your testicle.
- Basically, it’s a struggle to do anything with a nail in your testicle except whimpering; whimpering is practically a requirement when you have a nail in your testicle.
- Did I mention that it hurts?
- There was never a more appropriate use of the phrase: unfortunate ricochet.
I can write one thing with relative certitude: it was not a good time for Bill to try out his new nail gun.
I spent the remainder of the day with one overriding thought: please don’t offer to show me a scar.
In Honor of Dr. Seuss Day: Horton Hears a Chigger
You found this on your what?
So, the other day, these search terms popped up consecutively on the stats page of my blog:
feeling ill images
chiggers on testicles
Which comes first?
Are you feeling ill, and then you discover it’s because you have chiggers on your testicles?
Or, do you discover that you have chiggers on your testicles, and that makes you feel ill?
Not only was Kevin left home alone, but he’s also discovered chiggers on his testicles.
As I was pondering this, the progression of search terms changed to this:
feeling ill images
horton hears a who
chiggers on testicles
How different would Theodor Geisel’s story be if Horton hadn’t heard a Who on a speck of dust but had discovered chiggers on his testicles?
Would he have been as protective of them?
Would he have been equally harassed and ridiculed by kangaroos and monkeys?
What if Vladikoff the Vulture had tried to fly away with them?
And what if the monkeys and kangaroos had tried to boil them in Beezle-Nut oil?
Just something to think about.
Think about testicles.
I think I can hear something, and it’s making me itch in an unspeakable place.
Lard Emporium to Open In Erie Promising Extended Hours, Waistlines
Millcreek Mall management has announced the grand opening of a new store just in time for holiday shopping. Lard Emporium has opened in the space that housed the former Sears, which closed last year.
Gooferie spoke to Murray Benklinsky, CEO of Lard Emporium, Inc. “We did our market research, and it shows that Erie, Pennsylvania is definitely a lard eating town!”
As to what sort of items will be sold at the new shop, Benklinsky was effusive in describing the products that will be available. “You want lard? We got lard!” he told us. “The entire store is filled to the brim with lard! We got top shelf imported lard, the kind you used to have to drive to Buffalo to get. We also got budget lard by the bucketful! Not to mention candied lard for the kiddos, which would make a great stocking stuffer. Deep fried lard, flavored lard…
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Hamot Ramps Up Ad Campaign
Despite criticism of some recent advertisements UPMC Hamot vows to continue their aggressive local advertising campaign. “I realize some folks were upset with our new giant billboard in the airport’s baggage claim.” says UPMC Hamot spokesman Morris “Mo” Munney. “But we really just want to welcome visitors to Erie – and slip a little money to the airport of course.” As for their Hamot Stroke Center ad which encourages stroke victims to call 911 and insist on being taken directly to Hamot, Munney says “We need them to choose our first class facility while they can still speak.”
When asked what’s next in Hamot’s plan for billboard placement Munney revealed a new partnership with local funeral homes. “We have some very tasteful placards that will be placed above caskets.” he told us. Gooferie has obtained a first look at the proposed billboard which will be rolled out in local funeral…
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