idiotpruf

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

Archive for the tag “comedy”

People Suck

Hugh Laurie

I know what you’re thinking: that statement is too broad.

Fine, I will amend it.

Human people suck.

Again too broad?

Some human people suck (although it’s only some, it seems I have contact with most of them).

People are lying, cheating, slandering, backstabbing, thieving, manipulative, reprobates. And those are just my aunts and uncles.

 

Anyway, there are myriad reasons why people suck:

  • They are my aunts.
  • They are my uncles.
  • They are murderers.
  • They are racists.
  • They are people who drive slowly in the fast lane.
  • They are racists who drive slowly in the fast lane.
  • They are philanderers.
  • They are philanthropists.
  • Wait, philanthropy is a good thing…unless you’re giving your money to a bad cause, like The Society For Clubbing Baby Seals while driving slowly in the fast lane.
  • They are people who club baby seals, or support the activity through generous donations.
  • They are people who club Seal the singer.
  • They are people who club Seal the singer with baby seals.
  • They are people who get into the 10 items or less line with more than 10 items.
  • They are people who use the word less when the word fewer is correct. (See the previous entry.)
  • They are Kanye West.
  • They are Kanye West getting into the 10 items or less line with more than 10 items, while wildly swinging a club at a baby seal.
  • They are arsonists.
  • They are people who park in front of fire hydrants.
  • They are people who park in front of fire hydrants while their arsonist friends set fires.
  • They are people who have arsonist friends.
  • They are people who take pleasure in seeing bad things happen to other people (unless the bad thing is happening to Kanye West).
  • They are people who become mimes (mimes are so smug).
  • They are people who are extortionists.
  • They are people who are contortionists (it’s super creepy how bendy they are).
  • They are people who say “lol” out loud.
  • They are murderers.
  • They are felons.
  • They are terrorists.
  • But possibly the most heinous people of all: they are double dippers.

Are Sea-Monkeys Better Than Your Family?

Sea-Monkey family

What a lovely family.

It’s the question people have been asking themselves for ages: are Sea-Monkeys better than my family?

Don’t be ridiculous, of course Sea-Monkeys are better than your family.

Sea-Monkeys aren’t constantly shoving pictures of their potato-faced baby in your face, forcing you to lie about how cute their potato-faced baby is.

(Their baby isn’t cute: it has a potato face.)

Sea-Monkeys don’t get angry when you use the phrase “potato-faced” to describe their baby.

Note: turnip-faced doesn’t seem to be any more agreeable than potato-faced. Your family appears to have a bizarre bias against root vegetables that Sea-Monkeys don’t possess.

Sea-Monkeys don’t show up to family picnics all liquored-up on Coors Light, and vomit into your aunt’s potato salad.

Sea-Monkeys don’t get all pissy when you comment that your aunt’s potato salad was destined to be involved with vomit related incident at some point before the day was over.

Unlike your aunt, Sea-Monkeys aren’t overly sensitive about their disgusting potato salad and chunky hippo thighs.

Unlike your family, Sea-Monkeys tend to be very fit. It’s probably all the swimming they do, coupled with their general reluctance to shovel fatty foods into their fat gaping yaps.

Unlike your in-laws, Sea-Monkeys don’t sit around at family functions, guzzling Wild Turkey and openly lamenting their obviously questionable life choices.

Sea-monkeys don’t drink bourbon at all.

Unlike your brat cousin, Sea-Monkeys don’t scream at the top of their lungs until your aunt fills her face full of candy.

Sea-Monkeys understand that shoving sugar into an already intolerably loud and manic child, is the last thing you should do.

As brine shrimp, Sea-Monkeys are bottom feeders.

(Sorry, that last entry is from the list of how Sea-Monkeys are exactly like your family.)

Sea-Monkeys never set fire to their face.

Note: to be fair, it is difficult to start a fire inside a bowl of water. Still, your bone-head uncle could do it, and burn off his eyebrows in the process.

Unlike your aunts, Sea-Monkeys aren’t a gaggle of cackling hags who put curses on their nieces and nephews; Sea-Monkeys rarely dabble in the black arts.

Sea-Monkeys don’t disgust you.

Sea-Monkeys aren’t reading this blog and becoming enraged.

Sea-Monkeys have a far better sense of humor than your family.

And Finally…

When you refer to someone as a “miserable squinty-eyed back stabbing rat-bastard” you’re almost never talking about a Sea-Monkey.

sea monkey

You must admit, this Sea-Monkey is the spitting image of one of your aunts.

Help Me Pick My Next Post Topic

Wile E. Coyote

Wile E. and I are kindred spirits.

Several months ago I was having a dream.

In this dream my uncle was trying to chop my face off with an ax. He was chasing me through the woods and he seemed very determined in his efforts. He seemed to be enjoying himself a great deal. He was reminiscent of Jack Torrance from The Shining, but much more disheveled and maniacal. As ax wielding maniacs go–he was good at it.

Why would my uncle be chasing me through the woods with an ax? He has issues…and an ax.

Note: if my uncle were to chase me through the woods with an ax, it wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s done to me. He’s a miserable backstabbing rat-bastard of a human being, and I’m sugar-coating it.

Jack Nicholson

Here’s Miserable Backstabbing Rat-Bastard.

Anyway, I awoke from the dream and had a brilliant idea for a blog post, it would be the single funniest blog post ever written.

I quickly jotted the idea down, lest I should forget, and went back to sleep.

The next morning I looked at what I had written: Bad Idea Fireman.

I had absolutely no clue what it meant. I had absolutely no clue what I was thinking when I wrote it down. I had nothing.

Was it a bad idea to become a fireman?

Was it a bad idea a fireman had?

Were firemen a bad idea in general? That seems unlikely unless I was alluding to the firemen in Ray Bradbury’s dystopic tale, Fahrenheit 451. A great book, but not really full of laughs.

It’ll come to me I thought.

It didn’t.

It still hasn’t months later, and I had forgotten about it until I stumbled upon it today in my drafts section.

Then I had a thought (it happens): my drafts section has become cluttered with half-written posts and neglected ideas; it’s time to change that.

Here’s a short list of some of the unfinished posts:

Why do Hillbillies Have Weird Faces?

This search term popped up on my stats page. It’s a compelling questioned that deserves an answer.

Why Sea-Monkeys are Better Than Your Cousins.

I’m not certain why this one wasn’t finished, it practically writes itself.

Don’t Say it to Your Boss.

I found a list of things not to say to your boss at a work relations website. The list was woefully inadequate; I could immediately think of a half dozen ill-advised things I’ve said to bosses, that weren’t on the list.

Where is Bigfoot and Why is He so Damned Hard to Find?

Answering this question would wipe out half of the programming on Animal Planet.

Bad Idea Fireman.

Your guess is as good as mine.

Vote for the post you want to see, or leave a comment, or do both.

Fear Loathing and Rejection

fear loathing and sadnessA few weeks ago Becky of Becky Says Things asked her readers for blogging inspiration.

Since I’m constantly inspiring others to do things: sob uncontrollably, flee into the wilderness, punch a mime in the face, file restraining orders, stock up on pepper spray, change their names and disappear into the Bolivian mountains, eat green crayons and evaluate the futility of their lives, just to name a few; I decided to give it a go.

After an enormous amount of deep thought, at least five or six seconds worth, I came up with a topic that I thought to be pure blogging gold: bees and calligraphy.

I sat back and confidently waited for her post about bees and calligraphy and the awards and accolades that were certain to follow.

It never came. I was passed over in favor of music.

Despair.

As the days passed my sorrow deepened. The colors of life that had once been bright and vibrant now seemed dull and gray. I no longer enjoyed plays, movies or books. I especially couldn’t stand plays or movies based on books. (Except for The Shining, Jack Nicholson is an absolute treasure.)

Music was dead to me. (Except for Weird Al Yankovic, he is delightful.)

Food tasted like cardboard. Cardboard tasted like tapioca. Tapioca tasted like green crayons and green crayons tasted like forest green crayons. Tofu was oddly unchanged.

Even the one thing in the world that I loved more than anything, reruns of The Jersey Shore, couldn’t cheer me up. As I watched their fake tans, greased up hair and increasing levels if stupidity, I knew it was hysterical, but I just couldn’t laugh.

I found myself sitting in a darkened room, chugging Mad Dog 20/20 straight from the bottle, and writing really bad poetry about giraffes and other even-toed ungulates.

As I sat stewing in a combination of fear and loathing and other emotions that remind you of Hunter S. Thompson books, I had an epiphany. (Ooh, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is another movie based on a book, Johnny Depp is an absolute treasure and he’s delightful.)

The epiphany? I could write a post about bees and calligraphy.

I know what you’re thinking: there are so many reasons my post about bees and calligraphy wouldn’t be as entertaining as a post about bees and calligraphy written by Becky.

  1. Her blog is more popular than mine.
  2. She’s a better writer.
  3. I don’t have a suave and debonair spokesman like Stickman.
  4. When people tell her that her blog is funny, their voices aren’t dripping with sarcasm.
  5. She probably smells better than I do.
  6. She at least doesn’t smell like burnt toast.
  7. Why do I smell like burnt toast, that’s just weird.
  8. She’s never eaten crayons.
  9. She’s never fought a mime (I’m guessing.).
  10. She’s never been pepper sprayed.
  11. She’s never been pepper sprayed by a mime.
  12. She doesn’t fill her blog posts with tedious lists.

Regardless, the world needs bees and calligraphy, and I will give the world what it needs.

Next post: Bees and Calligraphy.

weird al

He is an absolute delight.

 

What Do These Movies Have in Common?

Bluto from Animal House,

Animal House.

De Niro Idiotprufs

Analyze This.

rodney dangerfield

Back to School.

groundhog caddyshack

Caddyshack.

bill murray stripes

Stripes.

ghostbusters

Ghostbusters

groundhog day

Groundhog Day

One has mobsters.

One has ghosts.

Two are set in universities.

Two have groundhogs.

Four have Bill Murray.

All of them are classic comedies.

Most importantly, they are just some of the movies that owe a writing credit to the great Harold Ramis, who we lost on February 24th eleven years ago.

harold ramis

Rest In Peace, Dr. Egon Spengler.

Some Decisions are Poor

idiotprufs bad tattoo

Does this image even need a snarky caption?

Not since Adolph Hitler’s “Victory In Russia” tattoo has there been a worse decision.

Note: Napoleon had his tattoo removed while he was on Elba.

Ice Station Amarillo

idiotprufs polar bar larry shampoe

Come on in, it’s perfect.

 

I awoke with the sound of Lance punching buttons on the hotel phone. Lance had several conversations with hotel staff that morning, they progressed like this:

First Call: Hello, this is room 222. We don’t have any hot water…you say you’re working on it…okay. Thank you.

Ten Minutes Later

Second Call: Yeah. Room 222 still doesn’t have any hot water…it’s been running for ten minutes now…okay, I’ll give it five more minutes. Bye.

Five Minutes Later Exactly

  Third Call: There’s still no hot water, and if I’m not mistaken it’s actually getting colder…(grudgingly) I’ll give it a few more minutes.

A Few Minutes Later

Fourth Call: What the hell? Is there going to be hot water or not?…Are you serious?…What the hell? Why didn’t you tell me that in first place?

“Guess what,” Lance said as jammed the phone receiver back into its place.

“I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark and go with: there’s no hot water,” I replied.

“The hot water pipes froze and burst, and they’re still waiting on the plumber to get here.”

“What the hell, why didn’t they just tell you that in the first place?”

“I know!”

So Lance, Matt, and myself all took pseudo-showers.

A pseudo-shower consists of standing well out of the stream of water, lathering yourself up and rinsing yourself off with a washcloth that you repeatedly shove into the stream of water.

Note: If water freezes at 32.0 degrees Fahrenheit, this water was 32.1 degrees Fahrenheit.

idiotprufs larry shower record cold

That’s about right.

The process was proceeding with minimal discomfort until I attempted to wash my hair.  My hair lathered up nicely, but when I tried to rinse it out, it just seemed to lather more. I rinsed out the washcloth, wet it down and tried again. It lathered more. What kind of shampoo was this? It’s like those trick birthday candles that you can’t blow out.

Note: You blow them out–they relight. You blow them out–they relight.  You blow them out–they relight. You blow them out–they relight. You smash the cake into a cousin’s face. Small children weep and your grandmother curses you out. How is that fun?

I came to the stark realization that I needed to stick my head directly into the stream. I took a deep breath, shoved my head under the water and began to scrub the shampoo out as quickly as I could.

At first it seemed to lather up even more. Suds were coming out my hair like clowns out of a Volkswagen. A wave of water washed down my back, it was really freaking cold. After about ten seconds of furious rinsing, the lather was completely out of my hair.

I stepped back, gasping for air, my body shuddering from the cold.

“Holy crap,” I exclaimed, “my testicles are completely inside my body.”idiotprufs george seinfeld larry shampoe

Then it was Al’s turn.

He stepped out of the bathroom looking pale and shivering. He looked like a rat that was drowned, revived, beaten and drowned again.

Note: Al always looked that way, but this was even more so.

“That’s worst shower I’ve even taken,” Al said.

“You took an actual shower?”

“Yeah. Didn’t all of you?”

“No. No we did not.”

“But you all said you did.”

“We lied.”

Al was so ticked off, he marched down to the front desk and got the bill reduced by half. He claimed it was because he was persuasive. I think it was because they felt sorry for him.

Top 15 Cameraman Gripes on the Set of Amish Mafia

The Children of the Corn--all grown up.

The Children of the Corn–all grown up.

Number 15

Horse chigger bites itch like crazy.

Number 14

The way Steve is always referring to his beard as “The Babe Magnet.”

I couldn't find a picture of Steve, so here's one of Weird Al Yankovic.

 Weird Al Yankovic doing his best impression of Steve.

Number 13

They can never remember their lines.

Number 12

How they turn everything you say into something risqué by punctuating it with, “’tis what she sayeth.”

Number 11

The way they laugh hysterically after they intentionally lead you through a pile of horse crap.

Number 10

The Amish have no idea how to make a good martini.

Number 9

Sick of hearing Amish guys use the same tired pick-up line: hey baby, doth thee need your butter churned.

Number 8

The way goats smell when they’re wet.

Number 7

The way goats smell when they’re dry.

Number 6

Those smart-ass cameramen from Jersey Shore, sarcastically griping about how hard it was filming babes in bikinis on the beach.

Number 5

The way their body oil gets in all the equipment (sorry, also from Jersey Shore).

Number 4

The way Levi’s always parading around in nothing but his “Home of a Barn-Raising boxer shorts.

What it would look like if Al Capone had been from rural Pennsylvania instead of Chicago...and if he were fictional.

What it would’ve looked like if Al Capone had been from rural Pennsylvania instead of Chicago…and if he’d been fictional.

Number 3

It gets tiresome constantly having to fight off territorial crows every time you break for lunch.

Number 2

They’re constantly rambling on about their favorite movie, Witness.

Number 1

The way they all giggle uncontrollably every time someone says they’re from Intercourse.

I wonder what the school mascot is?

I wonder what the school mascot is?

Where Have I Been?

He's either in a Canadian prison, or he's an ostrich egg.

He’s either in a Canadian prison, or he’s an ostrich egg.

It has recently been brought to my attention that my presence in the blogosphere has been lacking of late.

I have been presented with a list of possible reasons for my absence:

  • After his many failed attempts at winning the Heisman Trophy, he is diligently preparing in hopes of trying out for the Pittsburgh Steelers.
  • He spent hours scouring mock NFL drafts searching for his name, lost all sense of time.
  • He is dealing with restraining orders after sending several more letters to the Heisman Trophy committee, that apparently had a “threatening tone”.
  • He stole the Stanley Cup and scratched his name on it; he was held briefly for questioning by Canadian authorities.
  •  After it was discovered that he also scratched the phrase “Canadian beer sucks” onto the Stanley Cup. He was incarcerated in a maximum security prison somewhere in Nunavut. Once a week Tie Domi shoots slapshots at his head.
I was just kidding. I love Molson Canadian.

I was just kidding, Tie. I love Molson Canadian.

  • He has developed Rip Van Winkle’s Sleepy Hollow Disease, or some such thing named after a Washington Irving story.
  • The sun got in his eyes.
  • The moon got in his eyes.
  • He is convalescing from the effects of a severe moonburn.

Note: If the previous item on the list made no sense to you, that’s because it was an inside joke, but trust me, it was freaking hilarious.

  • He went whitewater rafting again and is presumed dead, or at least very soggy.
  • After commenting that he thought the movie The Godfather sucked, in front of the wrong person, he now rests peacefully with fishes.
  • After his tragic and untimely death, he was reincarnated as a banana slug. He was immediately stepped on, but came back as an ostrich; he is still in egg form.
  • He became a taster for Anheuser-Busch and is lying drunk in a field somewhere.
  • It’s a typical Saturday morning and he is lying drunk in a field somewhere.
  • Kim Jung Un invited him to North Korea to ride unicorns with Dennis Rodman. He was stunned, he had always thought that Dennis Rodman was mythological.
  • He was abducted by aliens.
  • He was abducted by bigfoot.
  • He was abducted by an alien bigfoot. (Several photographs were taken as proof. Unfortunately they were all underdeveloped, out of focus, and from a great distance.)
  • He was abducted by the Manson Family, Charles Manson tattooed a swastika onto his forehead.
  • He was abducted by the Partridge Family, David Cassidy tattooed a swastika onto his forehead. Susan Dey wouldn’t shut-up about LA Law and how hot she looked in the movie Looker. Shirley Jones kept griping about how much it ticked her off when people mistook her for that goody two-shoes, Doris Day. Danny Bonaduce told really bad jokes and bore a striking resemblance to alien bigfoot. Mr. Kincaid’s ashes rested in an urn on the dashboard of the bus. The other two Partridge children weren’t there; nobody could even remember that they had existed. The bus was attacked by Barry Williams and several other cast members from The Brady Bunch. They were fought off with pitchforks.
  • Against his better judgement, he attended another family get together. Enormous amounts of alcohol were consumed. A meal was served that consisted of some form of meat, it might have been opossum. A heated argument erupted concerning whether or not the term inbred, is considered to be pejorative. The argument escalated after somebody looked up the word pejorative. Three of his aunts began to chant and attempted to put a hex on him; he threw holy water on them and they melted. Gunfire erupted and several people threw rocks. There were many casualties; nobody important. It was all very traumatic.

It’s been trying, but now I’m back.

Next post: Where I Really Was.

Credit: This list was written or inspired by a fellow Steelers fan, writer, and someone who knows my family.

Manti Te’o Stunned to Discover Tooth Fairy Isn’t Real

All of the facts in the following post are completely true, except for most of the bits about me, and all the bits about Manti Te’o.

How could I have been such a fool?

How could I have been such a fool?

South Bend, Indiana, February 3 — “I thought we had a connection,” an exasperated Manti Te’o told a me in a recent interview. Evidently Te’o had formed a relationship that he had considered to be “very close” with the person known as the Tooth Fairy.

It began at an early age when Te’o was only two years old and had lost a tooth. His parents told him, if he placed it under his pillow before he went to bed, the Tooth Fairy would come that night. He placed the tooth under his pillow with eager anticipation. The next morning the tooth was gone and in its place he found a shiny silver dollar. His love affair with the Tooth Fairy had begun.

As the years progressed, so did Manti’s obsession with the Tooth Fairy. With the combination of his participation in football and his love of sugary snacks, he continued to lose teeth.

“I admired the gentle way in which she would remove the tooth from beneath my slumbering head,” Te’o told me, “I was one of the few kids who looked forward to going to the dentist to have a tooth pulled.” He then paused for a moment to wipe away a tear and compose himself. “I knew that it meant my beloved would be near that night.”

Te’o glared at me as I chuckled a bit too loudly. I apologized but then chuckled some more.

He explained how his relationship with the Tooth Fairy had intensified during his years at Notre Dame. He began leaving her love letters along with his teeth. She reciprocated by leaving him photos of herself and a phone number.

“We had magical conversations that lasted for hours,” Te’o told me.

“And you never suspected anything?” I asked him.

“Well, I did think it was a little strange that she sounded like an elderly Filipino man, but who’s to say how someone should sound,” he said as he showed me the phone number.

“This is a prefix from western New York,” I told him.

“My friends told me the Tooth Fairy was from Buffalo,” he explained.

I tried to get a statement from Te’o’s friends, but they were laughing to hard respond.

It seems, it was these friends that had played an elaborate joke on Te’o. A joke that brought his world crashing down around him.

It happened one fateful day while strolling through the electronics section in Walmart.

“I was walking through the electronic section of Walmart and I happened to glance over at the televisions. They were showing a movie. When I saw what was on the screen, I just froze in disbelief.”

Apparently the picture that Te’o had lovingly carried around with him in his wallet, and presumed to be the Tooth Fairy, was actually the Disney character Tinkerbell from the animated movie Peter Pan.

"Tooth Fairy" photo, voiced by an elderly Philipino man from Buffalo, may or may not have a hook for a hand.

“Tooth Fairy” photo. Actually an elderly Filipino man from Buffalo, who may or may not have a hook for a hand.

“It didn’t give you pause that there was a pirate with a hook for a hand in some of the pictures?” I asked.

“Not really,” he explained, “it’s common for Filipino immigrants from Buffalo to have hooks for hands…my friends told me.”

Not wanting to ire Te’o with further chuckling, I decided to move on.

“How did it make you feel when you found out that the woman you loved was actually a fictional cartoon character?”

“It was devastating,” he answered, “it’d be like finding out that Mrs. Butterworth isn’t real.”

“Mrs. Butterworth?”

“You know, that lovely woman who makes the delicious maple syrup. I have a photo of her in my wallet too.”

I explained to Te’o that not only was Mrs. Butterworth not a real person, but Mrs. Butterworth’s isn’t even real maple syrup; it’s just corn syrup with brown food coloring and maple flavoring.

Te’o buried his face in his hands and began to sob openly.

The interview was over; it was time for the healing to begin.

She's not real either.

She’s not real either.

Post Navigation