idiotprufs

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

Archive for the tag “comedy”

Erie Redevelopment Authority to use House Facades to Fight Blight

Another post from Gooferie.

gooferie

shutterstock_50363353 (1) The Erie Redevelopment Authority (ERA), facing a shortage of state and federal funds, has announced a new plan to fight urban blight in the city.

The ERA will begin a pilot program of installing facades in front of decrepit houses to mask the homes’ true appearances.

“There are so many vacant houses, and we were getting behind on demolition,” according to ERA spokesperson Maureen Tucker. “So, we are rolling out this façade program – starting on the lower west side.”

The plan calls for facades to be placed directly in front of deteriorating houses, so that people walking or driving by will not notice the true state of the house.

“Were going for what real estate agents call ‘curb appeal’” said Tucker.

Phase two of the plan will begin in the spring, when the ERA will be adding cardboard cutouts of friendly neighbors in the windows of the facades.

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Local Man to Host Drug Drop Off Event

gooferie

AA01People who have unused, unwanted or expired medications can dispose of them Friday by taking them to “Dan”, who will be collecting them free of charge.

“Dan”, no address listed, is collecting unwanted medication from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. on the southeast corner of 10th and Peach. There is no charge for the collection, which is being done in support of National Prescription Drug Take Back Day.

Medications must be in their original containers and personal information on vials should be concealed. People can also take nonprescription and over-the-counter medications.

Officially, no illegal substances, needles or other medical devices will be accepted, but “Dan” says he will work with you on that.

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Just a Bit of Advice


bat crazy

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

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

So stop it!

Thank You

newhart

Clowns and Penises: A Message to Overbearing Parents

brat kid

What a precious child.

Please stop showing me pictures of your baby.

The first fifty pictures of your little bundle of joy were all pretty much the same. If you’re going to inundate me with this barrage of maternal pride, at least mix it up a little. Dress the kid up like a gladiator or a pirate; give me a reason to at least feign interest.

I know you believe every human on the planet desires to see endless streams of photos of your child. You believe we have an innate need to gush over your child, and shower him or her with flowery praise.

We do not.

What people say: what a beautiful baby you have.

What people are actually thinking: holy crap your baby looks like a lizard: his skin is weird and his face is all smushed. Is his father a sleestack?

sleestack

Daddy?

 

The ugly truth: children grow up to be people and people suck. In fact, I know your kid’s father and he’s a jackass. That poor kid’s wading out of a gene pool that’s shallow, stagnant, and filled with parasites.

And stop acting like everything your child does is precious.

Your child dumped mustard in the fish tank: not precious.

Your child shaved the dog: not precious.

Your child peed on the cat: not precious

Your child got into the permanent markers and covered your living room wall with what appeared to be clowns and penises: honestly, this one’s funny.

And keep that notion in your head that it is advantageous to never discipline your child, because who doesn’t love a good “my child did the cutest thing in juvenile court today” story.

Maybe if Jeffrey Dahmer’s parents had made him eat his vegetables, things would have turned out differently.

Let’s all get together and stop praising our children for things that are clearly not praiseworthy.

Your child’s artwork is dreadful. It’s fine to hang it on your fridge with a due amount of parental pride. Just don’t expect me to gush over it like it’s the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Seriously, from what I can tell, it’s a drawing of a clown and a penis on the back of a misshapen unicorn. (And I’m starting to sense a disturbing trend in your child’s art work involving clowns and penises.)

Do you know what happens when you constantly praise your child for things at which she’s bad? She wastes three years at college majoring in art, when what she actually excels at is smoking pot, wearing berets, growing copious amounts of body hair, and doodling clowns and penises.

Then she comes home with a giant face tattoo, and informs you she’s dropped out of college to focus on her poetry. (Dreadful scribblings that mainly focus on clowns, penises, and when she’s ambitious: clown penises.)

Then when she can’t get anyone to publish any of her poems about clowns and penises, she tries to find a real job and the following happens:

Interviewer: Your application seems fine, and we’d like to hire you, but there’s the issue of your face tattoo.

Her: What do mean? This tattoo is an expression of me and who I am.

Interviewer: I’m not saying it’s not a brilliant tattoo of a clown and a penis riding a unicorn, but here at Chuck E. Cheese, I’m not sure it would fit our image.

Her: My mother says this tattoo is precious. She says everything I’ve ever done is precious. She even refers to me as “her precious.”

Interviewer: It also bothers us that your mother appears to be Gollum.

gollum

Mommy?

 

Let me be clear, I don’t think you should squelch the dreams and aspirations of children. You should squelch the delusions of overbearing parents.

And please please please stop pointing to your children and saying, “there’s our future.” There is enough scary shit in the world already.

fire

The future?

Deliverance: Not the Only River Tale to End Badly

rafting

“Paddle faster you idiots.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you certain that’s safe?”

“Absolutely, these are very deep rapids.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

river raft

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

Cinderella’s Sisters Bash Prince For Foot Shaming

Cindereella's sisters

The angry and large footed sisters in question.

A Tiny Kingdom in a Faraway Land–“It’s an outrage,” an agitated Drizella told us as she fumbled with her extra wide orthopedic shoes for bunions. “It’s a clear and undeniable case of foot shaming.”

It seems the trouble started when Prince Charming began scouring the kingdom in search of a singular woman whose foot would fit into a glass slipper left behind at a recent ball.

“Real women have real feet,” Drizella’s sister Anastasia said. “That pompous Prince Charming shows up at our door with this tiny little slipper made of glass and you’re not good enough for him unless your foot fits into this ridiculous little shoe; if you have feet like a normal woman you’re automatically rejected. That’s hardly ‘charming’ behavior.”

“And glass footwear can’t possibly be safe,” Drizella added.

The sisters argue it’s sexist and demeaning to reduce a woman’s worth to her foot size.

“They’re just jealous because the glass slipper fit on the foot of their step-sister, Cinderella,” Prince Charming said.

“She’s nothing but lowly scullery maid,” Drizella shouted, “why should she get the prince just because she has dainty feet.”

“Cinderella does have dainty feet,” the prince conceded. “She also has perfect skin, flaxen hair, and a heart of gold. And unlike her step-sisters, she doesn’t have a blackened soul, a vicious mean streak, a crazily disturbing amount of warts, an infestation of genital chiggers, and breath that could kill a dragon.”

Cinderella

She has perfect skin, flaxen hair, and absolutely no genital chiggers.

“It’s called halitosis and it’s a medical condition,” Drizella said defending herself.

The sisters have hired a barrister and plan to launch a lawsuit against the prince for discriminatory practices.

“I guess they’re forgetting how an oppressive feudal system works,” the prince said as he chuckled to himself, “I’m a prince; I do whatever the hell I want.”

Cinderella couldn’t be reached for comment; she is currently in negotiations to launch her own brand of glass footwear called Cinderella Crossfits.

glass sneakers

For the active scullery maid who also wants to feel like a princess.

The Most Dangerous Animal?

I recently saw the following statement in a meme:

The Most Dangerous Animal in the World…

Is a Smiling Woman Sitting in Silence.

Wrong!

It’s this freaking thing:

scary fish

“Come in the water, it’s nice.”

Come See the Erie Frogs: Not Everbody Gets Eaten

erie frog

Big creepy frog.

If you been through Erie, Pennsylvania, you may have noticed a big creepy frog along the side of the road. You may have noticed several big creepy frogs along the side of the road. In fact, you may have noticed big creepy frogs everywhere.

There are, in fact, about 100 eight feet tall frog sculptures littered about Erie and the surrounding area.

erie frog

The frogs are part of the Lake Erie Art Project.

“Art isn’t meant to be beautiful; it’s meant to drive us and open us up to our fears and vulnerabilities…and if we can make small children wet themselves, so much the better,” one official said of the frogs. “We took that core philosophy and we ran with it; we ran like Forrest Gump.”

erie frog

The small one hasn’t stopped crying.

“You see,” the official went on to explain, “we felt there just wasn’t enough creepy shit in Erie. Don’t get me wrong, Erie is creepy: we have Bigfoot sighting on Presque Isle, haunted cemeteries, and roving bands of inbred cannibals, but we needed something extra.”

rocky frog

Another victim of the Erie frogs.

“And the rumor that the frogs come to life and devour people has been an unexpected bonus. If we can leave visitors of Erie scarred for life–we’ve done our job.”

erie frog

Another poor soul who got a little bit too close.

 

“So come to Erie and see our frogs,” the official said, “not everybody gets eaten.”

erie frog

“Welcome to Erie. You look delicious.”

Smoking: What are You Waiting For?

Recently I jokingly asked someone if they could recommend a brand of cigarettes, because I needed a hobby, and I planned to take up smoking. This was met with a glassy-eyed stare and an earnest lecture against the evils of smoking.

I felt it was time to revisit an old post extolling the many reasons people should start smoking.

Note: so many of my jokes are met with glassy-eyed stares, I could use them to hypnotize people.    

smoking face

See how happy you could be.
(image source: wpclipart.com)

The plight of tobacco executives in our country.

With the combination of class action lawsuits and the implementation of restrictive legislation, the poor tobacco executives in our country have taken a terrible beating over the past several years. It has resulted in a precipitous tumble in their social standing; they have gone from being filthy stinking rich, to being only extremely well off. If we don’t take immediate action, where will it end?

The fate of our tobacco executives if we don't take immediate action.image source: andertoons.com

The fate of our tobacco executives if we don’t take immediate action.
(image source: andertoons.com)

The word emphysema is really fun to say.

It’s a word that just rolls off your tongue.  Em-phy-se-ma: one syllable just flows into the next. Try saying it once. Try saying it several times in a row. Try saying it quickly. Try saying it quickly several times in a row (unless you have emphysema: you might pass out).

The great thing about emphysema is that once you have it, it never goes away. And emphysema will affect nearly every aspect of your life; so you will have no trouble working it into daily conversation:

  • The doctor diagnosed me with emphysema.
  • I’m taking this medicine for my emphysema.
  • I’d love to play with my grandchildren more, but I can’t because of my emphysema.
  • I climbed two flights of stairs and collapsed in a sweaty quivering mass due to my emphysema.
  • I won at scrabble when I played the word emphysema. Thank goodness I can still play board games.

Not only will you have fun with the word emphysema, but so will your friends and family, long after you’re gone:

  • What a nice funeral. I guess the doctor said he would have survived the pneumonia if hadn’t been for the emphysema.
  • He certainly died young, but his quality of life wasn’t very good with the emphysema.
  • Remember that time he coughed up a piece of lung and we all laughed for hours; crazy thing that emphysema.
In a twist of irony, you win a scrabble tournament playing the words healthy alveola.image source: snapdesign.com

In a twist of irony, you won a scrabble tournament playing the words, healthy alveoli.
(image source: snapdesign.com)

You need to know what they’re talking about.

You’ve seen them huddled together, enjoying their cigarettes, with their furtive glances and secretive whispers.

They’re outside of the bar, the restaurant, the bank. They’re outside any and every place of business. They assemble in the wind, the rain, and the snow. They assemble regardless of scorching heat or an F5 tornado. Nothing deters them.

What can they be talking about? It must be of incredible importance. They must be solving the puzzles of the universe.

You’ve tried approaching them, but without a cigarette in your hand, they just regard you with disdain and disgust.

It’s been eating at you; you need to know what they’re talking about.

Note: It’s a little known fact that Albert Einstein developed both special and general relativity, while huddled with a bunch of coworkers outside of a patent office, in a brutal German snowstorm.

Get lost, we're doing something important. We're developing a cure for cancer or emphysema. Hey, emphysema, that's fun to say.image source: sodahead.com

“Get lost, we’re discussing important things. We’re discussing a possible cure for cancer or emphysema. Hey, emphysema, that’s fun to say.”
(image source: sodahead.com)

To stick it to that know-it-all the Surgeon General

You’re a rebel and you don’t appreciate anybody telling you how to live your life. You certainly don’t need some preachy Surgeon General constantly yapping at you about lung cancer, heart disease, or 32 known carcinogens.

There are tons of dangerous activities out there that the Surgeon General has said absolutely nothing about:

  • Poking yourself in the eye with a stick.
  • Dropping a brick on your toes.
  • Insulting the wife of a tattoo laden biker dude.
  • Juggling knives.
  • Attempting to re-attach your fingers with a sewing needle and some thread following some ill-advised knife juggling.
  • Hitting yourself repeatedly in the face with a hammer.

Why don’t hammers come with an explicate warning from the Surgeon General; you don’t have to hit yourself in the face more than five or six times with a hammer, to do some real damage.

If we’re going to make any real changes, it’s up to all of you out there to light up and start puffing away.

I’d start smoking today if my jaw wasn’t wired shut.

I'm launching a law suit; those irresponsible executives at Black & Decker, need to learn.image source: wpclipart.com

I’m launching a lawsuit; those irresponsible executives at Black & Decker, need to learn.
(image source: wpclipart.com)

A Wasp Nest and a Bad Idea


wasp nest in tree

“How do you see this ending?” You ask your Uncle Finster.

“I don’t know what you mean?” Your Uncle Finster says as he wildly swings a garden rake at a wasp nest directly above his head, as he stands perched precariously atop the seat of a riding mower.

You pause a moment to reformulate your words. “How do you see yourself ten minutes from now; do you think you’ll be well or not well?”

“I will be very well once I get rid of this wasp nest,” he says as he takes another swipe, missing the bottom of the nest by an inch. “Wasp nests are very dangerous.”

“They are very dangerous,” you acquiesce, “that’s why I’m standing at a distance and not directly under the wasp nest.”

“You have to break a few eggs to make an omelette.”

“But when you break an egg, wasps don’t sting in the face a thousand times.”

“Omelettes are delicious,” Uncle Finster admonishes you.

“Omelettes are delicious,” you agree. “A face full of wasp venom: slightly less so.”

Uncle Finster takes another wild swipe at the wasp nest, again barely missing it, this time losing his balance and nearly tumbling to the ground. “Are you here to help me or just to mock?”

“I’m definitely here to mock,” you clarify, “and I suspect to eventually call 911.”

Uncle Finster stops what he’s doing to look at you. “You always think the worst is going to happen.”

“This just reminds me of the time you had that hornet nest in your shed and you attempted to remove it with gasoline and a road flare.”

“I got rid of that hornet nest, didn’t I?”

“You got rid of the shed too.”

“I built a new shed.”

“And we all look forward to you burning that one down.”

Undeterred, Uncle Finster takes another swipe at the nest, again barely missing, and again nearly tumbling to the ground.

“That mower seat isn’t the sturdiest thing to stand on,” you warn Uncle Finster.

“This is the sturdiest mower on the market; that’s why I bought it.”

“I thought you bought it because your last mower burned up in the shed.”

Uncle Finster ignores your previous comment. “Maybe if I jump in the air while I swing the rake.”

“Maybe I should just get your ladder,” you offer.

“You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It burned up in the shed too,” Uncle Finster tells you with resignation.

“Of course it did,” you reply.

With that, Uncle Finster leaps in the air, swings the rake with all his might, and catches the bottom of wasp nest. Uncles Finster crashes to the ground, followed by the rake which cracks him in the skull, and then by the wasp nest and all its inhabitants.

It was glorious.

Uncle Finster did destroy the wasp nest. The admitting nurse at the emergency room laughed hysterically at pictures you got on your phone. And the wasps rebuilt their nest in Uncle Finster’s new shed.

So, all’s well that ends well…very well.

emergency

“It says here on your chart that you’re a dumbass.”

 

 

 

 

 

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