idiotpruf

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

18 Jun 2016
17 Comments

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.”

Addendum:

I’ll bet you thought I was going to mention Justin Bieber somewhere in this post.

Well you were wrong…apart from this bit.

 

Posted in funny, Humor, idiotprufs, lists, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
10 Jun 2016
23 Comments

Does a Bee Sting in the Penis Hurt?

bee sting

“You want me to sting you where now?”

A million-dollar National Science Foundation grant was given to Cornell University so a researcher could force bees to sting him on his penis to find out how much it hurts.

Let that sink in.

The idea was inspired by an unfortunate situation when a honeybee flew up Michael Smith’s shorts and stung him. “I was really surprised that it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would,” he said. The experience got him thinking: where is the most painful place on the body to get stung by a bee?

Oddly, it didn’t get him thinking about his choice of shorts when bike riding or his strange proclivity for rubbing flower pollen on his inner thighs before he goes bike riding.

Note: the bee found the whole experience to be horrifying. “I was just buzzing along, very busy as we’re known to be when suddenly I was all up in this dude’s junk,” the bee said.  

With the financial support from a National Science Foundation’s grant to Cornell University, Smith forced honeybees to sting more than 25 locations on his body from the face to the genitals. He then rated the pain caused by each of the stings on a scale of “Ouch” to “Holy Crap, What Have I Done.“

To compel a bee to sting, it was grabbed by the wings and pressed against the desired sting location.

Note: the million-dollar research grant pales in comparison to the multi-million-dollar lawsuit filed by the bees who were “compelled” to sting Michael Smith in the penis.   

The least painful locations to be stung by a bee for Michael Smith were the skull, middle toe tip, upper arm, and in the face of some guy who happened to walk into the room at the wrong time.

The most painful places to be stung for Michael Smith were the nostril, upper lip, and the genitals.

Note: shockingly, being stung in the genitals does hurt.

Also painful for Michael Smith was the broken nose that resulted when the guy who got stung when he happened to walk into the room at the wrong time punched him in the face.

Michael originally had his eyeball on the list of body parts to be stung but was talked out of it by his advisor, Tom Seeley.

Note: I think it’s safe to say that, despite the advice about the eyeball, as an advisor, Tom Seeley failed Michael Smith miserably.  

Michael concedes this study is limited by its low sample size: one person, himself.

“It is possible that if other people were tested, they would not rank the painfulness of the stings in the same way or perceive pain similarly by location. It is also possible a female researcher may rate being stung in the genitals very differently,” Michael stated.

His attempts to find a female test subject ended after the fifth time he was pepper-sprayed.

In case you’re wondering, these methods do not conflict with the Helsinki Declaration, a set of ethical principles for research involving human subjects developed by the World Medical Association.

In an “unrelated” experiment, researchers from Brown University set out to see if they could convince some moron from Cornell to compel bees to repeatedly sting him in the penis.

Helsinki is looking into it.

Addendum: the assertion that Michael Smith rubs flower pollen on his inner thighs before he goes bike riding is purely speculation on my part…but he probably does.

bee sting penis

I think I see where Michael Smith went wrong.

Posted in funny, Humor, idiotprufs and tagged , , , , , , , , , ,
07 Jun 2016
16 Comments

Me and the Map Idiot

This shouldn't be hard to read.

This shouldn’t be hard to read.

It happened many years ago on the mean streets of Buffalo, NY.

We were on our way to the Federal Building, mired in rush hour traffic, to pick-up my roommate Al. He had enlisted in the Army Reserves, but at the last minute, decided that he didn’t want to go. He came up with a “brilliant plan” to get out of it. The plan must have worked because the day he was scheduled to ship out for basic training, I received a phone call to retrieve him.

I took my friend Joe with me to navigate. Not my best move.

Me: Do you see where we are on the the map?

Joe: Yeah, I’ve got it.

Me: Do you see where the Federal Building is on the map?

Joe: I’ve got my finger on it.

Me: Okay, how do I get here from there?

Joe: I don’t know.

Me: What? Why not?

Joe: Just give me a minute to figure it out.

Me: What is there to figure out? You just follow the little lines from one spot to the other.

Joe: It’s not that easy; it’s like a ninety degree angle.

Me: So?

Joe: Wait, now I can’t find the Federal Building. It disappeared.

Me: Pick your finger up.

Joe: Oh yeah, there it is.

Me: (waiting impatiently) You need to give me some form of instruction.

Joe: Take the next right.

Me: Right here?

Joe: Right here.

Me: Are you sure, this doesn’t look like a proper street.

Joe: Yes. Turn before we miss it!

I turned onto the weird little street per Joe’s instruction. It wasn’t a proper street.

Me: What kind of street is this? It’s barely wide enough for one car.

Joe: I don’t know. It’s just a really narrow street, with big weird curbs and a bunch of wires overhead.

Me: What are those wires for… holy crap, we’re on the Metro Rail line! We have to get off this.

I immediately hit the brakes and threw the car into reverse. As I turned the wheel attempting to back around, the rear wheels bumped up against the curb. Then I pulled forward and the front wheels bumped up against the other curb. I repeated this process several times until I had successfully wedged the car between the curbs on either side of the pathway. We couldn’t go forward. We couldn’t go backward. We were stuck.

Me: You’re gonna have to get out and push.

Joe: I don’t want to do that, there’s a bunch of people watching.

Me: Of course they’re watching; they’re waiting for the Metro Rail to come around the corner and smash the idiots into tiny pieces.

Conveniante mass transit to most. Impending doom to us.

Convenient mass transit to most. Impending doom to us.

Joe grudgingly got out and pushed. People watched.

As we attempted to extricate ourselves from the path of the Metro Rail, that was certain to come barreling around the corner at any moment and annihilate us, people were pointing and laughing at idiocy they were witnessing. After several attempts, we freed ourselves, bounding up over the curb with a thud. I pulled back onto the pathway heading in the opposite direction. Joe got back into the car and sat sheepishly. It was all very humiliating.

Joe: A homeless guy laughed at me.

Me: That’s rough for you.

Joe: He asked me if I was born this stupid.

Me: Perhaps he’s seen you read a map.

Joe: We were at a ninety degree angle.

Me: Okay Pythagoras.

Joe: Are we going to tell Al we got his car stuck on the Metro Rail track?

Me: We are not.

We pulled out of the Metro Rail pathway and back into normal traffic, and all was well…except for Buffalo PD patrol car that happened to be passing by at that moment. The officer did a double-take that would have made James Finlayson* proud, brought his vehicle to a screeching halt and poked his muscle-bound head out the patrol car window. And yes, he had a muscle-bound head.

*What? You don't know James Finklayson. He was an old-timey actor famous for his double takes.

*What? You don’t know James Finlayson. He was an old-timey actor famous for his double-takes.

Police Officer: Pull over.

We pulled over. He stormed up to our car with a scowl, and a definite sense of purpose. I began to explain to him what had happened, but before I could get the first word out, he interrupted me.

Police Officer: Do you even have a driver’s license?

Me: Yes sir, I have all my information right here.

He snatched the information from my hand as he glared at me. I could see myself cowering beneath him in his mirrored sunglasses.

Police Officer: That’s not a street.

Me: I know.

Police Officer: You know? The fact that you were driving on it would suggest otherwise. Why would you be doing that?

Me: (nodding toward Joe) Well, he was reading the map and giving me directions, and he said to turn there.

Police Officer: Did he really? You over there, Map Idiot, did you tell him to drive down the Metro Rail track?

Joe: We’re just trying to get to the Federal Building.

Police Officer (refocusing on me): Do you just go wherever Map Idiot tells you to go? If Map Idiot tells you to drive head-on into the Metro Rail, is that what you do? You’re not going to make it to the Federal Building if you’re dead.

Me: I’m sorry officer, normally I’m an excellent driver, (I had just seen Rain Man) but I’m from a small town, and I’m not used to driving in the big city.

I wish I could tell you that’s not what I said, but it’s exactly what I said. That’s right, I’m a rube. But it worked, the officer chuckled a little and immediately softened. He gave us instructions to the Federal building, told us to be careful, and sent us on our way. We safely reached the Federal Building where we found Al waiting for us.

Me: So you got out of it?

Al: Yes.

Me: What did you tell them?

Al: Something.

Me: Like what?

Al: Just something. I don’t want to talk about it.

Me: Okay.

Al: So, did you have any trouble getting here?

Me: Nope.

Joe: The police officer didn’t even give us a ticket.

Al: Why would you get a ticket?

Me: No reason. I don’t want to talk about it.

It was a quiet ride home.

What the map of Buffalo evidently looked like to the Map Idiot.

What the map of Buffalo evidently looked like to the Map Idiot.

Posted in funny, History, Humor, idiotprufs, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,
03 Jun 2016
15 Comments

Gerald the Neighbor Kid

You're stupid and you don't know anything.

You’re stupid and you don’t know anything.

“Hey Neighbor.” The voice penetrates your eardrum like a knitting needle. “Watcha doin’?”

It’s a voice that sends chills down your spine. Chills that reach the bottom of your spine, make a quick U-turn and travel back up your spine, then back down again, just to ensure that they’ve done the job properly.

“Gerald…you’re here.” You stop what you’re doing and stand motionless. “Are you here to pee on my garden some more?”

“I’ve told you I’m not the one doing that,” he claims.

You turn slowly to find Gerald standing before you, soaking wet, finger in his ear trying to remove some stubborn water.

“I don’t know who you thought that moat was going to keep out,” he says to you.

“I don’t know, Gerald. I had a few thoughts,” you say in exasperation. “So, learned how to swim did you?”

“I’ve been taking lessons.”

“That’s great.”

“And those piranha you put in the moat: they don’t do any good either,” he informs you.

“Obviously not, I don’t see a single tooth mark.”

“All you have to do is throw some steaks into the other side of the moat, it completely distracts them.”

“I should have gone with the electric eels.”

“You see,” Gerald continues, ignoring your electric eel comment as he works the water from his other ear. “piranha are really more scavengers than hunters. I guess that you didn’t know that.”

“I guess I didn’t,” you agree.

“You don’t know lots of things,” he tells you. “Would you like to know something else that you don’t know?”

You feel compelled to hear what Gerald has to say next, even though you know that it will make you want to knock the freckles from his ruddy little cheeks.

Note: under no circumstance would you ever strike or do harm to child in any way–that’s what the piranha were for.  You’re just kidding–mostly.

“Just what is it that I don’t know, Gerald?”

“Well,” he says, wiping his nose on his sleeve, “that cement barrier you built around your house is useless too.”

“Well that’s apparent.”

“All I needed to get past that, was a ladder and a blanket to throw over the razor-wire.”

“It was that easy for you was it?”

“Yeah. I don’t know where you’re getting your ideas on how to keep people out, but you’re not being very smart about it,” he admonishes you.

“What would you suggest I do, Gerald.”

“An electrified fence would be far more effective, I suppose.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” A tiny flame of hope flickers in your mind.

“But there are ways around that too,” he tells you, quickly dousing your tiny flame. “And that Beware of Bigfoot sign that you put up, wasn’t fooling anyone.”

“Do you mean, apart from the twenty or so Bigfoot hunters that camped out on your fathers front lawn, convinced that they had found irrefutable proof that Bigfoot exists?” You challenge Gerald’s assessment.

“That really ticked off my dad.”

You chuckle to yourself. “I know it did.”

“He says you’re a bad neighbor,” Gerald informs you.

“Does he?”

“And he uses bad words when he says it.”

“Does he really?” You feel a weird sense of satisfaction.

“Did you know that one of those Bigfoot hunters smashed my dad’s mooning garden gnome with a shovel?”

“Yes.” Your spine stiffens slightly. “It was definitely the Bigfoot hunters that did that.”

“Anyway, do have anything to eat; all of that swimming and climbing made me hungry.” Gerald was hungry most of the time.

“I could make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” you offer.

“How many times do I have to tell you this: I’m allergic to peanuts?”

“I can’t image how I could have forgotten that.”

“You can’t remember anything,” he scolds, “you’re always offering things that have peanuts in them.”

“Forgetfulness is my curse…among other things.”

“You should write this down so you don’t forget.” Gerald instructs. “I’m allergic to peanuts, shellfish, cats, pomegranites, bees…”

“Gerald!” Gerald’s list is interrupted by the sound of his father screaming over your barriers. “What did you do with my steaks?!”

“Uh oh. I think I have to go now. I’ll be back later to tell you some more things that you don’t know,” he assures you as he turns to leave.

“I’ll be eagerly waiting,” you tell him as he leaves.

You stand there for a moment in silent contemplation.

“Allergic to bees are you?” You say to yourself in what could be described as an ominous and sinister tone.

You should be ashamed of yourself.

Not nearly as effective as one might hope.

Not nearly as effective as you might hope.

Posted in funny, Humor, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , ,
24 May 2016
17 Comments

Hey Idiot–Use Your Good Eye

(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 will make the most even-tempered among us see red and spit blood.

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

It will even cause Pope Francis to punch mimes 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 mimes in the face; mimes are the reason Pope Francis punches mimes 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.”

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 consuming 15 to 20 cans of Coors Light before driving your kids to Sunday School.
  • By driving for miles and miles with your turn signal blinking for no apparent reason.
  • By sitting at a 4-way stop and gaping numbly at the other drivers when it’s clearly your turn to go.
  • By taking your eyes off the road to make an obscene gesture to another motorist.
  • 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 out 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.

Posted in Humor, idiotprufs, inspirational, lists and tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,
23 May 2016
11 Comments

Ungulate Whore and Few Other Search Terms

looking detective search term idiotprufsAs I was perusing my search terms page, I decided that it was time to do another post on some of the more bizarre search terms.

These are exactly the way I found them, with a few comments or observations from myself.

Hall & Oates beef jerky  A genius marketing plan–nothing says Philadelphia soul music like dried meat products.

drive nails through Scrotum  It is my sincerest hope that this person wasn’t looking for a how-to site.

testicle nails  You can find these in your local hardware store, right next to the wood screws.

testicles sister  I’ve never met her, but do know testicle’s brother.

Note: A disturbing number of search terms contained the word testicle.

Scientology and Body Hair  The title of John Travolta’s unauthorized biography.

carton of mad  I purchase my mad by the case; it’s cheaper that way.

playdough science experiments fire.  Bill Nye’s best episode ever.

proof gremlins don’t exist  Gremlins do exist, a troll told me.

do gremlins poop or pee  Constantly, according to the troll.

Cure for hiccups the government won’t tell  First the grassy knoll, and now this.

does our government lie about mermaids?  No. But just try asking those weasels about hiccups.

girl traffic diarrhea  A girl with a problem.

holding in diaphram erectile dysfunction  A guy with a problem.

“most disturbing part” sexual  The same guy.

Can your guidance counselor call you stuiped?  Only if you misspell the word stupid.

is your guidence counselor supposed to be nice  Of course. What a stuiped question.

poop finger paint  The cause of my lifetime ban from the Louvre.

who hates raccoons  Anyone who knows the pain of being stood up on prom night…by a raccoon.

toothless idiot pictures  A bad fetish site.

ungulate whore  A worse fetish site. (But an amazing name for a racehorse.)

obese garden gnome image   A really disturbing fetish site.

paris hilton tourette syndrome  A new and terrifying form of Tourette Syndrome. Sufferers will seek out attention of any kind. They will accost anyone holding a camera while screaming, “everybody look at me. I have a tiny dog that fits in my purse.”

Cartoon stick girl  Another search result involving Paris Hilton.

do new justin beiber dolls come out 2012  Only if my prayers come true.

How do I meet the new neighbors?  See search term below.

i don’t want to meet the new neighbours  Please, let these two people be neighbors.

lab rats French  Similar to normal lab rats, but they wear tiny berets.

mad scientist who made Frankenstein  Good question. Here’s another: what was the name of that famous baseball player who died from Lou Gehrig’s disease?

is walking and lifting heavy objects exercise  I consider just thinking about walking and lifting heavy objects to be exercise.

how to clean and stretch a raccoon  Finally, somebody is addressing this problem.

how to make wooden knickers for bigfoot hunting.  We have wooden knickers for everything else.

ways of saying you are a peon  See search term below.

can you get a concussion from walking into a glass door?  Peon.

is it illegal to stab somebody in the face with plastic forks  It won’t be if my ballot initiative goes well. Vote early. Vote often.

“You Make My Dreams”
with Hall and Oates beef jerky.

Posted in funny, Humor, idiotprufs, lists and tagged , , , , , , , , , ,
21 Apr 2016
9 Comments

Oh the Injustice

no-justice3Oh I am just so mad.

I haven’t been this upset since those heartless bastards at “The Learning Channel” canceled Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.

(How am I supposed to learn about exploitative child beauty pageants, chalk miners, or dating registered sex offenders, now?)

I’m so rankled I could punch a mime in the face.

What is it that has me in such a state?

Injustice, that’s what has me going all Bruce Banner.

(I almost went all Bruce Forsyth, but I don’t think I could have pulled that off.)

bruce forsyth britain

Sir Bruce Forsyth. You don’t want to make him mad. You wouldn’t like him when he’s mad.

It seems the will of the people is going to be disregarded.

The Natural Environment Research Council launched a drive to find public suggestions for the name of their soon-to-be-built £200m research vessel.

They asked the people to speak, and the people spoke loudly. So rabid were the voters, the NERC website crashed under the weight of pure ship-nomenclature enthusiasm.

And what name was it that had the public so energized?

The RSS Boaty McBoatface

I know! Isn’t that awesome?

injustice

A research vessel tragically not named Boaty McBoatface.

Boaty McBoatface received 10 times more votes than the more serious second favorite, Henry Worsley, named for the British explorer who died in January near the end of his attempt to become the first person to cross the Antarctic unaided.

(Sometimes it’s okay to ask for help.)

But wait. It seems the powers that be aren’t thrilled by the choice. They feel the choice is silly and not at all suitable for something as serious as a research vessel. So, they’re going to ignore the will of the people and go with a name of their choosing. A name they feel is less ridiculous, more suitable.

I want the people of Britain to understand that here in the United States, we feel your pain. You may be losing Boaty McBoatface, but we’ve lost Honey Boo Boo.

Heartless bastards.

Addendum

The RSS Honey Boo Boo…I like it.

Posted in funny, Humor and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,
09 Apr 2016
70 Comments

How to Make Your Wife’s Feet Stink Like Cheese

Are your wife's feet repulsively minty fresh? Don't worry, it can be fixed.

Are your wife’s feet repulsively minty fresh? Don’t worry, it can be fixed.

It’s happened again: yet another poor soul has come to this blog in search of answers to questions that I don’t readily have.

Questions that are disturbing.

Questions that aren’t the type asked in polite company.

Questions reserved for the darkened corners of dimly lit rooms in seedy establishments on the fringes of society, and sometimes on the Joy Behar Show.

It started when this search engine term led some poor wretch to my blog:

why does myI did my best to answer that question with the post: You Found What on Your What?

Note: Again, I am just a little unsettled that the search term “sexy man riding a unicorn images” leads people to this blog, and very unsettled by who those people might be.

So now this crops up on the list of search engine terms on my stats page.

wife's feetNote: I am irrationally proud of the fact the search term “monkey stink” leads people to this blog. 

I’m going to do my best to aide this person, I am nothing if not filled with compassion.

First, I have a few questions of my own:

  1. Why?
  2. Seriously, why?
  3. Is this some bizarre fetish of which I am unaware? If it is, I choose to remain unaware.
  4. What type of cheese are you looking for? A soft cheese like Brie, or hard cheese like Asiago?
  5. Does your wife even want her feet to stink like cheese?
  6. Do your feet stink like cheese?
  7. Are you just trying to cover-up the fact that your feet stink like cheese by making your wife’s feet stink like cheese?
  8. Are you really that selfish?
  9. Are you the type of person who constantly puts himself ahead of others?
  10. Are you the type of person who gets in the express lane at the supermarket with a cart full of groceries, and then tries to claim that you have less than 12 items.
  11. Do you then try to pay for your cart full of groceries with a check, even though you haven’t any I.D. with you.
  12. Do you then fumble around dumbly for cash–now that you’ve ground the express lane to a torturous halt–to find that you have only a two-dollar bill and some Canadian half-pennies?
  13. Where the hell did you get Canadian half-pennies?
  14. Are you that moron who drives down the road with your seat-belt hanging out the door, making sparks on the road?
  15. Maybe the real problem with your wife is that you don’t satisfy her sexually. Did you ever consider that?
  16. Maybe what your wife needs is a good divorce lawyer.
  17. I’ll bet you like mimes don’t you?
  18. How can you like mimes, they are so irritating?
  19. When they do that fake crying thing, I just want to punch them in the face.
  20. What kind of total jackass likes mimes, and wants his wife’s feet to stink like cheese, as he screws up the express lane and drives like an idiot?
  21. Moron.

Anyway, try rubbing your wife’s feet with Limburger cheese. The bacterium used in the fermentation process of Limburger cheese (Brevibacterium linens) is the same bacterium that causes foot odor.

I hope this was helpful…jerk.

I hope this turns you on...weirdo. (image source: wpclipart.com.)

I hope this does it for you…weirdo.
(image source: wpclipart.com.)

Posted in funny, health, Humor, inspirational and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,
15 Nov 2015
9 Comments

Ray-Ray is a Pretty Boy

news

You may have noticed I enjoy writing posts based on bizarre news stories.

For example:

  • The guy who attacked his ex-girlfriend’s current boyfriend with a dead weasel. (In the guy’s defense: it’s hard to attack someone with a live weasel.)
  • The off duty cop who allegedly assaulted his girlfriend because she attacked him with a Justin Bieber doll. (In the cop’s defense: it must have been horrifying to have that smug little face flying at him.)
  • The Bigfoot hunter who filed a police report claiming Bigfoot pelted his RV with rocks. (In Bigfoot’s defense: the man was obviously an obsessed stalker.)
  • The man who was arrested for trespassing while behaving bizarrely and licking a toad. (In the man’s defense: it’s difficult to lick a toad and not behave bizarrely.)
  • The Japanese restaurant that serves a curry that is designed to taste and smell like human feces. (In the restaurant’s defense: there is no defense, it’s just horrifying.)
japanese curry

I wasn’t joking about the curry.

And in recent news.

Oakland Raiders linebacker, Ray-Ray Armstrong, is facing third-degree felony charges for–you’re gonna love this–taunting a K-9 service dog on the field prior to their game with the Pittsburgh Steelers.

The Raiders player barked at the dog, lifted his shirt and pounded his chest as he taunted the dog according to Chief Deputy Kevin Kraus.

Isn’t that just fantastic?

Kraus said the player also told the deputy holding the K-9 to “send the dog.”

“The dog was going crazy,” Kraus said. “The deputy was trying to control the dog the best she could.”

k9

The K-9 involved offered no comment, but simply got in his vehicle and drove away.

The sheriff’s office notified the Steelers, the NFL, and the Raiders of the investigation.

They also notified Ray-Ray’s mom, and were assured he would receive a whoopin’.

The Raiders signed Armstrong in October 2014 after the St. Louis Rams cut him for committing an excessive number of penalties…and for his propensity to lift his shirt, pound on his chest, and taunt random animals.

The Ram’s organization cited one particularly disturbing incident involving Ray-Ray, a parrot named Petey, and a chest pounding, obscenity laced tirade aimed at the parrot.

Ray-Ray claimed that it was the parrot who started it.

“Ray-Ray is a pretty-boy,” was the parrot’s only comment.

Armstrong could face serious charges as “taunting a police animal” is a third-degree felony in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.

Note: as a current resident of Western Pennsylvania I feel qualified to address this: we couldn’t care less if you want to taunt a police dog. As long as you don’t care if a police dog chomps you in the man bits.

german shepeard

See what happens?

A few other things that are third-degree felonies in Pennsylvania.

  • Carrying a gun without a permit
  • Terroristic threats.
  • Taunting a police animal.
  • Taunting a German Shepherd.
  • Taunting a German.
  • Taunting a shepherd.
  • Taunting sheep.
  • Pretending you like a police animal, then acting all aloof the next time you see it.
  • Attacking someone with a Justin Bieber doll.
  • Attacking someone with Justin Bieber.
  • Attacking Justin Bieber with a dead weasel.
  • Taunting Justin Bieber. (I’m just kidding, this is encouraged.)
  • Taunting Bigfoot.
  • Licking a toad. (But only if toad hasn’t given its consent.)
  • Licking Bigfoot and taunting a toad. (Bigfoot never objects to being licked…make of that what you will.)
  • Reckless burning or exploding. (I’m not making this one up.)
  • Reckless burning, exploding optional.
  • Making long and pointless lists.

The Allegheny County Sheriff’s department is currently investigating the incident.

The unfortunate thing for Ray-Ray (apart from his name) is there were about 50,000 witnesses.

If only he had taunted Justin Bieber instead.

oakland raiders

Alleged dog taunter, and recipient of an imminent whoopin’.

Posted in funny, Humor, idiotprufs, polls and tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,
23 Jun 2015
40 Comments

So I’ve Ruffled Some Feathers

 

mad baby

“My feathers have been sufficiently ruffled.”

It seems I’ve ruffled some feathers.

Some big, fat, whiny, bitchy, crybaby feathers.

It’s not that this blog hasn’t generated negative reactions in the past. It has and that disapproval has been manifest in many forms:

  • Through the WordPress comments function.
  • By email.
  • Unfriending me on Facebook.
  • Friending me on Facebook for the sole purpose of unfriending me.
  • Tweeting about me with the hashtag: jackass.
  • Sniper fire.
  • I’ve been accosted by mimes. (They don’t say much, but their gesticulated scorn is withering.)
  • Women flee at the sight of me. (To be frank, this was happening long before I started this blog.)
  • Small children bite me with their sharp little adolescent teeth.
  • A vicious diatribe was nailed to my front door, written in blood. (This one surprised me; Grandma needs all the blood she has.)
  • Random baboon attacks.
  • Skywriting.
  • Strategically placed billboards with shockingly filthy messages.
  • The song “You Suck” is constantly being dedicated to me on the radio.
  • Vitriolic letters to the editor of The Bolivian Free Press. (The Bolivian Free Press is an odd name for a newspaper in a country where the primary language isn’t English. It’s almost as though I made it up.)
  • Llamas spit on me, then act like it was an accident.
  • Lorenzo Lamas spits on me, then acts like it was an accident.
  • I get junk mail addressed to: That Ass Who Writes The Blog.
  • The letters in my alphabet soup randomly form death threats.
  • I am frequently presented with that time honored and always effective middle finger.

But it was the following passage from a recent post, Home is Where the Heart is…and a Bit of Predator, in which I detailed reasons my hometown is awesome, that has caused the cheese to slide off the crackers of a few people:

Reason #4: my aunts and uncles

If modern cinema and television have taught us anything through mega-hits such as Harry Potter, Twilight, and The Walking Dead, it’s that witches, vampires, werewolves, and various incarnations of the undead, are quite popular in current culture.

The town of Westfield, NY is polluted with my aunts and uncles.

Note: you get what I’m implying.

It has been suggested that this passage is defamatory, and this blog is guilty of slander.

That is ridiculous–defamation in written form is clearly libel.

Note: seriously, if you don’t know the difference between slander and libel, you shouldn’t run around all willy-nilly accusing anyone of either.

Nevertheless, a few points of clarification.

None of my aunts or uncles are werewolves. Sure their behavior is a tad monstrous when the moon is full, but it’s monstrous during all phases of the moon. They’re not any better when the sun is up…I guess my point is it’s pretty much a perpetual state.

None of my aunts or uncles are vampires; they’re bloodsuckers of an entirely different ilk.

None of my aunts or uncles are members of the undead. The stench of rotting flesh that follows when they arrive, and their seeming inability to communicate in even monosyllabic fashion, are probably just coincidences.

Witches? Granted, I’m not referring to the type of stereotypical green-skinned, broom-traversing witches such the wicked witches from the Wizard of Oz.  However…

Note: if only I could dispatch them with a bucket of water.

Remember this one important thing: it isn’t libel if it’s true.

Addendum

Wouldn’t it be awesome to have a troop of flying monkeys to do your bidding?

flying monkey

A flying monkey toting Toto. (Not the rock group, he’d need a bigger basket.)

Posted in funny, Humor, idiotprufs, lists and tagged , , , , , , , , ,

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