idiotprufs

Read by four out of five drunken monkeys, written by the fifth.

Archive for the tag “humor”

Let’s Get Squatchy

bigfoot

Alleged photo of Bigfoot near Bradford, Pennsylvania. The clearest photo yet.

I am brimming with excitement and anticipation.

I am going to venture intrepidly into the wilderness in the search for answers.

Bigfoot: does he exist? Is he out there? If he is out there, can I find him? If I do find him, will I just pee myself and runaway? I probably will.

After exhaustive research (the Discovery Channel) of Bigfoot sightings, individuals who have made those sightings, and those who hunt for Bigfoot, I have prepared a list of things I will need to start my search:

  • I will need a large wooded area. Luckily for me, I live in rural Pennsylvania. I also live in an area where there have been actual Bigfoot sightings over the years. Rural Pennsylvania is also good for UFO sightings, alien abductions, haunted graveyards, and roving bands of cannibals. (I’m joking about the roving bands of cannibals–the vast majority of our cannibals tend to be quite sedentary. Probably from all the people they eat.)
  • It is also important for the area where you’re searching to have plenty of thick brush, large outcroppings of rock, and thick walls of impenetrable fog and mist. The type of things that Bigfoot can quickly duck behind before you can get a clear picture of him.
  • A camera that takes pictures that are out of focus, out of frame, and generally blurry.
  • A FLIR thermal imaging camera. They’re great for picking up clear images of indistinct blobs that could be a Bigfoot, or possibly a squirrel.
  • A motion activated camera. When motion enters the field of view of the camera, it triggers a sensor, which promptly causes the camera to malfunction and burst into flames.
  • I will need an abnormally large percentage of my clothing to be camouflage, including my underwear and wallet.
  • A gun rack for the back of my pickup truck.
  • A pickup truck. (Preferably painted in camouflage.)
  • Bullet hole decals for my pickup truck…bigfoot hunters are badass.
  • The ability to pepper my vocabulary with the word squatchy regardless of context: I love what you’re done to your hair sweetheart–it’s squatchy.
  • A skeptic.

It’s always important for any self-respecting Bigfoot hunter to be accompanied by a skeptic. The skeptic’s job is to provide a counter-balance for the over-exuberant bigfoot hunter and to insure a measure of scientific process. It also vital for the skeptic to be unnecessarily and relentlessly condescending and snarky.

Skeptics are required to possess a whiny nasal voice and for some unknown reason, skeptics usually have the physical attributes of a rat. Any good skeptic will have sharp beady eyes and a wispy, ill-conceived mustache. (Man or woman.)

Skeptics like to say things to bigfoot hunters such as:

  • It’s highly unlikely any type of simian would reside in these woods since they lack the requisite body fat for survival in a colder climate. We’re the only ones stupid enough to be stomping around the forest at night in this freaking cold.
  • Hey, don’t drop that camouflage wallet out here in the woods, or you’ll really be doing some serious hunting.
  • A shower. Just once every day or two–think about it.
  • Why do you keep asking me if I want some cheese and then laugh hysterically?
  • No. I don’t think those truck noises out by the highway have anything to do with bigfoot.
  • While a putrid sulfur smell is associated with bigfoot sightings, I don’t think that’s what this smell is from. Seriously…take a shower.

Once I have compiled all the necessary equipment from the list above and found myself a suitable skeptic, I will venture into the wilderness and I will find the truth.

I may also get lost. If you don’t hear from me, send help.

bigfoot hunters

He gets it.

A Little Advice for Living in the Age of the Coronavirus

coronaIf the Coronavirus has taught us anything, it’s to live each moment like it’s your last.

I keep seeing this phrase in meme form–what a complete load of crap.

What if your last moment is because you’ve been shot in the face with an arrow. Do you really want to walk around living each moment like you’ve been shot in the face with an arrow? I’ve never been shot in the face with an arrow, but I would hazard a guess that it blows.

It has to be hard to do even simple things with an arrow stuck in your face. I would envision a lot of writhing around, bleeding profusely, and shouting things like, “where the hell did an arrow come from?”

For example: it would be difficult to enjoy a day of antiquing with an arrow stuck in your face. It’s difficult to enjoy a day of antiquing under normal circumstances. Antiquing sucks.

Where I live, I would get very little sympathy if I were shot in the face with an arrow. If I were lying on the sidewalk with an arrow in my face, I would get the following response:

Passerby #1: It looks like someone’s finally gone and done it.

Passerby #2: Yep. It was only a matter of time before somebody snapped. Although, I thought it’d be with an axe.

Passerby #1: He just bought those sunglasses.

Passerby #2: I know. Good luck wearing those with an arrow in your eye socket.

Passerby #1: Should we help him?

Passerby #2: No. He’s all gross and bloody. Let’s go antiquing.

That’s right: they’re a coldhearted bunch where I live. A coldhearted bunch of antiquing jackasses.

If the Facebook pages of the people who post the advice: “if the Coronavirus has taught us anything, it’s to live each moment like it’s your last,” are to be believed, they would spend their last moments, sitting in the backyard, getting hammered on cheap vodka, stuffing their round faces with potato salad, and playing cornhole, as they discuss whether or not it’s legal to date your second cousin in the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. Jason Aldean music is playing in the background.

(I’m just guessing about the Jason Aldean part.)

I am beginning to realize why a person might be compelled to shoot me in face with an arrow.

If you were to actually live each moment like it’s your last, shooting someone in the face with an arrow is exactly the type of thing you would do.

Admit it: if these were your last moments on Earth and there were no consequences, you’d be camped out outside of some jerks house that you hate, with a bow and arrow in your hand and Phil Collins’ I Don’t Care Anymore, playing in the background as you wait for your moment.

I’d better be careful the next time I step out of the house.

jason aldean in camo

Jason Aldean outside my house…just waiting.

Mad Dog 20/20: The Greatest Invention Ever


invention symbol

When you’re having a reflective moment and you’re pondering the greatest invention in human history, what springs to mind?

Is it fire? The wheel? The combustion engine? That little plastic thing that keeps the top of your pizza from being smeared on the box? All very important.

Perhaps it’s the written word. (Although that’s certainly not reflected here.)

You probably think it’s an advancement in medicine or technology.

Wrong! The answer is Mad Dog 20/20.

I know what you’re thinking: why am I wasting precious moments of a finite lifetime reading a bunch of drivel written by a person who is clearly unstable and who probably spent far too much of his youth eating paste and crayons.

Wrong Again! I still eat paste and crayons.

I’m going to provide five specific reasons for my assertion that Mad Dog 20/20 is the greatest invention of all time.

Reason #1

It’s not just wine–it’s a flavored fortified wine.

It’s fortified!

Fortified wines have a higher alcohol content than regular sissy wines.

Anything with the word fort in it is inherently superior to anything without the word fort in it.

Example:

Fort Worth, Texas: thriving metropolis populated with the highest caliber of people.

Worth, Illinois: total shithole filled with mimes.

Enough said.

Reason #2

If you’re anything like me, (my sympathies if you are) you are dazzled by things that are bright and shiny. Mad Dog 20/20 is available in a myriad of brightly colored flavors. There’s so many brilliant colors it’s dizzying. And if you’re into to dizziness: consuming Mad Dog 20/20 can help you with that too.

md 20/20

It’s dizzying.

Reason #3

The medical applications of Mad Dog 20/20 are practically endless.

  • It kills the Coronavirus. (It kills most living things; I assume that includes the Coronavirus.)
  • It’s essentially a cure for not having liver disease.
  • Too many pesky brain cells:? Mad Dog 20/20 is the solution.
  • It makes your vomit glow in the dark–how cool is that?
  • It makes you vomit: vomiting cleanses the body and entertains your friends.
  • It also makes your urine glow in the dark. You’d be surprised how often that comes in handy.
  • It’s a memory suppressor: if you drink a bunch of Mad Dog 20/20, and you do something crazy and stupid, you won’t remember it. (However, the authorities may remind you of what you’ve done.)

Reason #4

Applications apart from drinking it.

  • Self defense: it can be used to blind an attacker.
  • As an adhesive: it’s one of the stickiest substances known to man.
  • Entomology: it can be used to attract bees, ants, or hobos.
  • As a repellent: it repels wombats, musk oxen, and The French.
  • Monetarily: it’s used as currency in the best federal prisons.
  • Status: if you keep Mad Dog 20/20 on display in your home, people will know you’re classy.

Reason #5

Mad Dog 20/20 is produced in my hometown of Westfield, NY. It’s a wonderful small village in western New York that has produced many brilliant people…and me.

It’s surprising the word fort isn’t in the name of the village. Strictly speaking, somebody dropped the ball on that.

I think at this point you probably agree with me that Mad Dog 20/20 is the greatest invention of all time.

So drink up.

Westfield ny

Many brilliant people.

Addendum: my apologies to the citizens of Worth, Illinois, I’m sure you’re fine people.

A Postitive Take on Social Distancing

masked killer

Jason Vorhees may have brutally killed people, but he was diligent about mask wearing in public.

Some of you out there may think our country has spiraled into an Orwellian nightmare of oppressive governmental control where citizens inform upon each other to the State over the slightest infraction, resulting in the jackbooted stomping our of civil liberties into the mud like we’re the kulaks of Stalinist Russia.

Of course you are correct.

But let’s look at the bright side: with everyone wearing masks, you don’t have to look at ugly people anymore. Let’s be honest: most of the people you know are not comely. Plus, bad breath is no longer an issue with the masks and social distancing. All those people in the Gulag labor camps never had that luxury.

When your neighbor, beedy-eyed Betty, reports you to the authorities because she knows for a fact you don’t wear a mask when you’re in the shower, you can take solace in the fact that you can’t see beedy-eyed Betty’s gargoyle-like face. (That is of course, after the waves of terror and revulsion stop pulsing through your body.)

Remember: it’s a better world when most of the people you know are more than six feet away from you.

I’m just trying to keep it positive.

stalinist Russia

Not only did the kulaks suffer immeasurably, they had to do it without masks and in black and white.

 

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 boys 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 which roughly translates as “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 prick.”

“I don’t think it’s very funny,” said known prick Jacques Faucheux, father of 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.

Barrel Shopping for Niagara Falls

barrel for going over falls

A barrel like this would be great…but I prefer something in color.

 

Now that I’ve made the decision to go over Niagara Falls in a barrel, there are few slight logistical wrinkles that need to be ironed out.

First and foremost: I need a barrel. I have several vital requirements for the barrel I choose for my journey over the falls:

  1. It must be watertight enough to endure the 681,750 gallons of water that travel over the falls per second, without filling with water and killing me horribly.
  2. It has to be sturdy enough to endure the 2,509 tons of force created by the 681,750 gallons of water that travel over the falls without losing structural integrity and killing me horribly.
  3. It must be able to withstand the 167 foot drop without bursting on impact and killing me horribly.
  4. It must be spacious enough for me to comfortably fit into. (I don’t like to be cramped almost as much as I don’t like to be killed horribly.)
  5. It must fit onto the top of a Mercury Marquis. (I have bungee cords.)

My search for a suitable barrel has been less than fruitful.

It’s startling just how unhelpful the employees of Home Depot are when comes to barrel shopping.

You wouldn’t believe the slack-jawed looks I get when I ask them where they keep their barrels for going over waterfalls–they gape at me like I’m a moron.

The people at Ace Hardware are even less helpful. Their little jingle: “Ace is the place with the helpful hardware folks” is a blatant and disgusting lie. It should be: “Ace is the place where smug judgmental pricks named Rob question your mental stability.”

I went to a web site of the deceivingly named Crate & Barrel–completely useless unless you plan to go over Niagara Falls on an overpriced chaise lounge.

(I did however find a delightful celosia black hand-knotted area rug.)

It appears in order to find a suitable barrel for going over Niagara Falls, I’m required to have one custom made.

Going over Niagara Falls in a barrel is turning out to be more difficult than I had imagined, but I will soldier on.

 

liquuor barrel

What a great barrel; I just have to empty it of the Jack Daniels inside–it’s a plan!

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.”

I Wouldn’t Wish That On My Worst Enemy

Imagine you’re listening to the following story:

So Ron was just standing there, and suddenly this llama comes bursting out of the brush, runs right past the whole group of us and bites Ron on the testicles. It was like the llama singled him out. I mean, Ron is a giant prick, but how would the llama know that?

Now the llama is just shaking Ron by his crotch and Ron is screeching in agony; that llama had some nasty jagged teeth. So then the llama lets go of Ron’s crotch and it turns around really quickly, so we’re all thinking it’s over and the llama’s just going to run away, but instead it kicks Ron in the face. Ron has nasty jagged teeth now too.

At this point Ron’s just lying there on the ground in a crumpled whimpering mass and the llama stands over him and pees on him. Then the llama just gallops away and back into the brush like it’s proud of itself.

Then someone exclaims, “holy shit, why is there even a llama running around in western Pennsylvania?”

The person then punctuates the story by saying, “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

But you’re thinking to yourself: I would definitely wish that on my worst enemy; I’m kind of glad it happened to Ron. Then you giggle a bit as you imagine it happening to your worst enemy.

Then you start thinking: I wonder if I could find that llama and make it happen to my worst enemy. It can’t be that hard to find: a stray llama in western Pennsylvania. Then you start wondering why the word llama is spelled with two l’s at the beginning, but you quickly revert back to wishing a llama attack upon your worst enemy.

You could record it and put it on YouTube; that would be awesome! Now you’re starting to get a little exited at the prospect of your worst enemy being the victim of vicious llama attack.

You realize there’s almost nothing you wouldn’t wish upon your worst enemy.

You’d wish bad things on people who mildly annoy you. Like that time you got stuck on an elevator with that mime; no invisible wall is going to stop a kick to the face from a llama, you stupid mime. You giggle a little imaging it.

You start wondering if the whole llama thing with Ron wasn’t set-up in the first place; Ron really is a prick.

Now you’re wondering if you’re a bad person.

Then you stop wondering things, because you’ve got a llama to find.

elephants

You couldn’t find the llama, but this will do.

 

 

Beware the Ides of March…and Salad With Anchovies

ides of march

On March 15, 44 BC. Julius Caesar was stabbed to death in the Theatre of Pompey at a meeting of the senate by as many as 60 conspirators.

Note: The Theatre of Pompey was showing the remake of Footloose at the time. It was the second most disappointing part of Caesar’s day.

Upon realizing one the conspirators was his friend Brutus, he uttered the now infamous phrase, “Et tu Bluto.”

It was at that point Brutus became enraged and screamed, “Bluto is the character from the Popeye cartoons you imbecile; my name is Brutus. How many times do I have to tell you that?” Brutus then stabbed Caesar repeatedly.

Bluto Popeye

Bluto and Brutus are not the same person. Just ask that smug tenth grade English teacher of yours.

Historians will tell you Julius Caesar’s assassination was politically motivated and the result of rising tensions between Caesar and the Senate. Historians will also tell you several Senators feared Caesar would overthrow the Senate in favor of tyranny. Historians are always blathering on about something in the past.

Well, historians are full of it.

I know the real story: everyone was just sick of Caesar forcing them to put anchovies on their salads.–anchovies are gross.

Final Note: the word assassination has the word ass in it twice. That amuses me more than it should.

Caesar salad

A delicious plate of Caesar Salad. Because there is nothing more appetizing than dead rotting fish.

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.

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