idiotpruf

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

Archive for the tag “comedy”

Nutella or Montague: What’s in a Name?

nutella

A delicious snack, but a terrible name for a French child.

According to Ole Bill Shakespeare what you call a thing doesn’t alter its nature; “that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” and all that.

Note: not to give anything away, but regardless of the lovely sentiment, things didn’t end well for Juliet.

It seems a court in Northern France disagrees with the Bard of Avon, and has taken a tough stance toward families who give their children odd names.

When one couple in Valenciennes tried to call their child Nutella, the shocked registrar immediately informed the local prosecutor, who took the case to court in the northern city. (But not before first making himself a quick snack, Nutella really is delicious.)

The judge argued that giving the child the name of a chocolate spread was against the girl’s interests as it might lead to mockery and unpleasant remarks. “Children can be horribly cruel to other children who happen to have odd names,” the Honorable Peanut Butter N. Jelly told the court as he wiped a tear of remembrance from his eye. “Besides, Nutella is clearly a boy’s name.”

The parents did not turn up at the hearing in November, and in their absence, the judge ruled that the girl’s name should be shortened from Nutella to Ella. Her full name is now a much more respectable Ella Phant Butt. “Let’s see school children just try to make fun of that,” the court said.

The same court in Valenciennes made similar arguments in January this year before overturning the decision of another couple to name their child Fraise, the French word for strawberry.

The judge said that in particular, the girl might face derision from people using the uncouth expression “ramène ta fraise” – a slang saying that translates as “get your ass over here.”

The parents opted instead for Fraisine, an elegant name popular in the 19th century that roughly translates as the much more couth saying, “get your non-strawberry ass over here.”

“French parents can choose whatever name they want for their offspring,” a registrar said, “but we will occasionally seek to ban or change a moniker that might be deemed against the child’s interests, or if we’re bored, or if someone’s just kind of being a jerkface.”

“I don’t think it’s very funny,” said known jerkface Jacques Faucheux, father of recently court renamed Son-Of-Flaccid-Penis Faucheux.

A family was told in 2009 that they could not name their child after the French cartoon character Titeuf.

titeuf

French cartoon character Titeuf–forget the name, I want my children to have that hairstyle.

Note: I’ve never been more glad to live in the United States; I fully plan to name my first child Magilla Gorilla, and I don’t want the courts messing around with my daughter’s name.

Magilla

The name Magilla Gorilla just oozes class.

But the French courts don’t reserve this right for just human names. A dog owner in eastern France has been forced to change the names of his dogs, Itler and Iva, because they clearly “make people think of Adolf Hitler and Eva Braun.”

The unnamed owner argued that the names, Itler and Iva, had nothing to do with Adolph Hitler and Eva Braun. He grudgingly changed his dogs’ names to Iliso and Isio 4, but admitted he probably shouldn’t have shaved the swastikas into their fur.

And finally, in France, you cannot call a pig Napoleon, due to a law aimed at preserving the image of the Emperor which remains on the statute books.

For shame, George Orwell. For shame.

Animal Farm

Napoleon from George Orwell’s Animal Farm. For shame, George Orwell.

 Addendum:

Jacques Faucheux has petitioned the court to have his son’s name (Son-Of-Flaccid-Penis Faucheux) changed. And he was a real prick about it.

The court granted his petition, and changed his son’s name to My-Fathers-A-Prick Faucheux.

Another petition is pending.

Welcome to the Neighborhood

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

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

“I’m really into topiary.”

Just a Few idiotprufs

Wile E. Coyote

Wile E. Coyote, idiotprufs legend.

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

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

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

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

Just a Few idiotprufs

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

Seriously, I literally have hundreds of these.

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

Addendum

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

idiotpruf

Exactly.

Seriously, I Don’t Want to Dance

the office dancing

Do you really want David Brent as a role model?

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

What I say: I don’t want to dance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Also, don’t tell me to smile.

I smile plenty.

I smile when it’s appropriate.

I smile when I’m happy or when something good happens.

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

Note: sometimes, I summon the courage.

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

crazy smile

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

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

For Shame Christmas Haters

I’ve recently encountered some individuals who said they hate Christmas or they can’t wait for the Christmas season to be over.

What is the matter with you people, don’t you know it’s the most wonderful time of the year? Andy Williams told us so in song form. Are you going to contradict Andy Williams? Andy Williams was a national treasure you heartless goons.

I had a friend (not the one with genital chiggers) tell me he couldn’t wait for Christmas to be over: the obligations, the expense, the forced family get-togethers with people he really didn’t care for.

It’s a crying shame.

But I had another friend (the one with the genital chiggers) tell me how much he loved Christmas: the decorations, the songs, the eggnog (the best of all nogs), the gifts, and the general spirit of giving.

I would have shook his hand, but he had been doing a crazy amount of groin itching due to the chiggers. I told him there was a powder he could get, but he said he had used the powder and the chiggers thought it was Christmas, formed a big circle, and sang Christmas carols like the Whos in Whoville.

Speaking of the Whos in Whoville: don’t you Christmas haters remember when the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes when he finally understood the true meaning of Christmas?

Note: if your heart grows three sizes, you have a pretty severe medical condition–you’re probably going to die. You should definitely seek medical help as quickly as possible.

But that’s not the point.

Don’t you Christmas haters remember when Scrooge McDuck awoke on Christmas morning to discover the spirits had done it all in one night and he hadn’t missed Christmas. He took a bag of toys and a turkey to the Cratchit’s home.

It does seem strange: a duck eating a turkey. Some kind of weird fowl cannibalism going on there. Still, Scrooge kept Christmas from that point forward and he kept it well.

Note: if you’re a young couple about to have twins, I implore you to name them Ignorance and Wont. They’ll hate you for it, but it’ll be a great conversation starter every Christmas.

Don’t you Christmas haters remember when Jimmy Stewart’s character thought he had killed Lee Marvin’s character, but it was in fact, John Wayne’s character who had killed Lee Marvin’s character and…

Sorry, that’s the wrong Jimmy Stewart movie. That’s from The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, a great movie, but not very Christmassy.

Don’t you Christmas haters remember when George Bailey realized he was the richest man in Bedford Falls because he had friends and family and had made a difference in so many lives? Do you not remember that! It was so freaking heartwarming!

Look at how happy Jimmy Stewart is. It’s as if he’s just shot Lee Marvin.

And don’t all you Christmas haters remember when Charlie Brown asks, “Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about.”

Linus replies, “Sure, Charlie Brown, I can tell you what Christmas is all about.”

Linus then moves to center stage and says this:

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding
in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them,
and the glory of the Lord shone round about them:
and they were sore afraid.

And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold,
I bring you good tidings of great joy,
which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour,
which is Christ the Lord.

It’s only one of the most iconic moments in television history.

I hope all you Christmas haters shoot your eyes out.

Seriously, get this checked out.

PennDot Defends Sinkhole

sinkhole in Pittsburgh

Just a typical day of commuting on Pennsylvania roadways.

National news was made earlier this week when a Port Authority bus fell into a sinkhole in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

While the incident has been the butt of many jokes and has been turned into the subject of countless memes, it hasn’t been a laughing matter to PennDOT officials. “I don’t see what the big deal is,” said Ron Smith, a longtime PennDOT official who has nearly all of his fingers, “technically this sinkhole is only the fifth largest pothole in the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.”

When the veracity of that claim was challenged, Ron Smith the longtime PennDOT official who still has at least eight of his toes, pulled out photographic proof. “See this picture: it’s of a pothole in Lancaster County that swallowed up five Amish buggies, horses and all,” he declared defiantly. “Do you see the small Amish boy standing by the hole weeping–he’s fatherless now.”

Surely that’s the biggest pothole in the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, you’re probably thinking: not even close.

“There’s a pothole near Altoona,” continued Ron Smith the longtime PennDOT official who’s blind in one eye, but you can’t really tell, “that’s so big, they’ve turned it into a skate park.”

When queried as to why the potholes aren’t just fixed, Ron Smith the longtime PennDOT official who lost most of his body hair in a freak hot tar accident, replied derisively. “Don’t you think we’ve tried? We lost five good men trying to fill a pothole out near Scranton. Those were five quality PennDOT workers who put in two to three solid days of work a month.” He paused for a moment of reflection. “They had to bury empty caskets.”

“Doesn’t that screw up traffic?” He was asked.

“Of course it does,” Ron Smith, the longtime PennDOT official cackled with laughter as two of the final three teeth fell from his mouth, “but that’s not PennDOT’s problem.”

When asked how long the incompetent bureaucrats had been running PennDOT, he became very quiet and replied solemnly, “a very long time.”

Addendum

It was later learned from Ron Smith, the longtime PennDOT official who has a freakish amount of thick and robust nose hair despite the hot tar incident, that there was a pothole in Erie County so large, it was filled in with water and made an honorary Great Lake–people waterski there.

lake erie

Waterskiing in a pothole near Erie, Pennsylvania.

Pet Rhinoceroses

pet rhino

Sure it’s adorable, but it’s a handful.

So your pet rhinoceros has turned out to be more of a handful than you had anticipated.

You’ve horribly underestimated how large rhinoceroses tend to get.

A full grown rhinoceros can knock over a Honda Civic with relative ease. Even when the owner of the Honda Civic and his loudmouthed wife are in the Honda Civic. A rhinoceros can flip over a Honda Civic with just the flick of its horn.

Your neighbor owns a Honda Civic.

Full grown rhinoceroses will eat a lot. And even though it seems illogical, they crap more than they eat.

Rhinoceroses like to crap on rose bushes.

Your neighbor has rose bushes.

Rhinoceroses are angry creatures and they hate garden gnomes; if they see a garden gnome they will stomp on it until it is pulverized.

Your neighbor has garden gnomes.

Did I mention a rhinoceros can puncture the side of a Honda Civic with its horn? It can–and it’s hilarious.

“It’s tipping the car over. It’s tipping the car over,” your neighbor’s loudmouthed wife will scream in horror.

Insurance companies seem reluctant to respond to alleged rhinoceros damage.

You know when you laugh so hard your side hurts and you pee a little: that’s what happens.

Despite all of the positive things I’ve just detailed, you should probably avoid getting a pet rhinoceros.

Get something smaller and more manageable, like a gorilla.

Gorillas just throw their crap at your neighbor and his loudmouthed wife–it’s hilarious.

Just a little rhinoceros damage–it’ll buff right out.

Driving Tips and Justified Vehicular Homicide

idiotprufs

You seem frustrated.

Let’s say you’re driving down one way street. You’re alert to your surrounding and obeying all the traffic laws, like the conscientious motorist that you are.

You begin to slow down because in front of you is a pair of pedestrians walking toward you down the middle of the street.

Surely they’ll move out of your way; you’re the motorist and they’re pedestrians in the middle of the street.

But they don’t move out of the way. You have to come to a complete stop.

As they get closer you can see that it’s a teenage couple. The girl has a look of complete oblivion on her face and the boy (or Smug Little Bastard as you refer to him) is just staring at you with a cocky look on his smug little bastard face.

You have to sit stationary for an interminable amount of time as you wait for them to slowly make their way past you and out of your way.

Now I’m not suggesting it should be legal to run over people like that with your vehicle…but it should be legal to run over people like that with your vehicle.

I’m not saying it wouldn’t be frowned upon. I’m not saying you wouldn’t receive stern looks of disapproval, but it should be legal.

You should at least be able to nudge them out your way with your bumper.

You’re also driving a company vehicle and you’re not sure how your employers would feel about their vehicle being used in such a manner.

Although, you are certain if they saw the look on Smug Little Bastard’s face, they’d give you the green light.

And if you are this young lady, what the hell are you thinking? Smug Little Bastard just lead you hand in hand into oncoming traffic. Get as far away from this dude as fast as you can. Your future with Smug Little Bastard is bleak.

Bleak is not a word I bandy about lightly.

Bleak!

You’re going to wind up in some ramshackle hut with Smug Little Bastard, a bunch of screaming brats, and a family of rabid opossums. And the opossums will be tolerable ones.

Also, at some point it may become legal to run somebody over who walks smugly down the middle of the street. If my ballot initiative passes in the next election, it will be legal to run somebody over who walks smugly down the middle of street.

So watch yourself.

falling down house

At least the opossums are happy. (Relatively happy.)

A Quick PSA for Loud-mouthed Pricks

loud mouth

“Act just like me–I’m cool.”

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

Stop It!

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

I don’t want to see that happening.

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

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

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

And I know what’s in my own mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wrong!

Timothy is a giant prick! Period!

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

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

You’re really a giant loud-mouthed prick.

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

Things Couldn’t Possibly Get Worse

couldn't get worse

There has never been a phrase so inviting of its own contradiction than the phrase “things couldn’t possibly get worse.”

The mere utterance of the phrase is a virtual guarantee that things are about to go horribly wrong.

Example:

You’re hiking through the woods with a friend. You’re beginning to think you’ve lost your bearings and are uncertain about where you are. You have increasing suspicions that your friend’s cartography skills were exaggerated.

You transition from being uncertain of where you are to complete certainty you are lost. Nighttime is approaching, a thunderhead is gathering overhead, you’re friend has just stepped in a giant pile of bear crap (which, as much as it amuses you, is a tad alarming), and you’ve come to the conclusion that your friend’s cartography skills were wildly exaggerated.

As the first streak of lightning burns across the sky, your friend turns to you and says, “well, things couldn’t possibly get worse.”

Without saying a word, you retrieve a stick from the forest floor. You study the stick for a moment, then pull out a jackknife and whittle the stick into a fine point.

You turn to your friend and pause for a moment as he anticipates what you’re going to do, then you jab your friend in the eye with the stick.

“Things are worse now, aren’t they,” you say triumphantly.

Your friend is angry, but you were trying to prove a point…plus, it really irritated you when “Mr. Map Expert” referred to the contour lines on his topographical map as squigglies.

You crash through the forest in the darkness and pouring rain for an interminable amount of time, hopelessly lost and almost sure you’re being stalked by either a bear or bigfoot.

Luck finally smiles upon you as you come across a country road, and there’s a vehicle approaching. Your friend jumps into the road, waving his hands to gain the driver’s attention.

Your friend mistimes his leap into the road and is struck by the car. As it turns out, being poked in one eye with a sharp stick seriously reduces your depth perception.

“I guess things couldn’t get worse,” you finally concede to your friend as he lies on the road in a whimpering mass.

The words barely leave your lips when a bear lurches from the trees and mauls your friend. Bigfoot just watches.

After a lengthy recovery period and extensive physical and mental therapy, your friend is fine.

On the plus side, with all the scars on his face and the eyepatch, he looks like a real badass.

You would tell him that if you were still on speaking terms.

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