idiotpruf

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

Archive for the tag “humour”

Even More Taglines, Just to Piss You Off

drunken monkey

An avid reader of idiotrufs, and quite possibly the author.

Are you sick of taglines? Too bad.

Some more taglines for your consideration, amusement or scorn.

idiotprufs: the blog that’s had the hiccups since 1987.

idiotprufs: what happens when everything goes horribly wrong.

idiotprufs: the blog that taught Michael Jackson how to moonwalk, but had nothing to do with all that other weird stuff.

idiotprufs: the blog that was really freaked out by the flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz.

idiotprufs: whatever stupidity happens to tumble from my brain.

idiotprufs: illegal in 38 states–frowned upon in the rest.

idiotprufs: the blog that doesn’t check to see if the milk has gone bad before it chugs it straight from the container.

idiotprufs: the blog that vomits far more often than it ought to.

idiotprufs: the real reason the dodo bird is now extinct.

idiotprufs: the blog that would have been burned at the stake in the Middle Ages.

idiotprufs: the blog that is often referred to as the juggernaut of the blogging world by people who are prone to hyperbole, and frequently imaginary.

idiotprufs: the blog that lost its virginity, but then immediately found it again. (It was right where it had left it.)

idiotprufs: the blog that giggles uncontrollably every time it meets someone from Intercourse, Pennsylvania.

idiotprufs: where brain cells go to die.

idiotprufs: the blog that has unsettling fantasies about Wolf Blitzer dressed in nothing but bicycle shorts and a monocle.

idiotprufs: the blog that can’t find Ecuador on a map…of Ecuador.

idiotprufs: the blog that thinks North Iowa is a state.

idiotprufs: the blog that plans to name its firstborn after a Muppet.

gonzo muppet

Gonzo: the probable name of idiotprufs’ first born (boy or girl).

idiotprufs: the blog that can do anything it wants because no one is paying attention anyway.

idiotprufs: the blog that wore alligator skin boots to its job interview with Peta, and got thrown out of the building.

idiotprufs: the blog that has been accused of smashing its neighbors garden gnomes with a shovel.

idiotprufs: the blog that thinks its neighbor shouldn’t make accusations that he can’t prove.

idiotprufs: the blog that doesn’t wait 60 minutes after eating before it goes swimming.

idiotprufs: the blog that tore the labels off its mattress with an arrogant disregard for the law.

idiotprufs: the blog that once brazenly robbed a group of mimes at gunpoint, but got away with it because nobody talked.

idiotprufs: the blog that is way too proud of the previous mime joke.

idiotprufs: the blog that took two years of Spanish in high school, but still can only count to ten.

idiotprufs: a clear sign that the end is near.

idiotprufs: the blog that is used as currency in prison.

idiotprufs: the blog that was once rejected as a cast member of Big Brother, because it just wasn’t slutty enough.

tidiotprufs: the blog that is badgered nightly by Mickey Mantle’s ghost, spitting sunflower seeds on it.

idiotprufs: the blog that still can’t find Waldo, regardless of how persistently it tries.

idiotprufs: the blog that wept like a baby when it saw Brian’s Song.

idiotprufs: the blog that it’s creator refers to as “the babe magnet.”

idiotprufs: the blog that believes Bigfoot is real, but has serious doubts about Donald Trump’s hair.

idiotprufs: also predicted by the Mayans, but John Cusack has no plans to make a crappy movie about it.

idiotprufs: what Sir Isaac Newton was actually thinking about right before that apple fell on his head.

idiotprufs: the tenth level of Hell in Dante Alighieri’s Inferno before the editing.

idiotprufs: the only one of Aesop’s fables that didn’t have a moral.

idiotprufs: oh the humanity.

idiotprufs is stilled freaked out by flying monkeys.

idiotprufs is still freaked out by flying monkeys.

Taglines and More Taglines

taglines

Because they haunt your dreams.

“Striving every day to do the least idiotic thing possible, generally failing.”

The above statement had been the tagline of this blog since its inception–sadly, it’s also been the guiding principle of my life–but it felt as if it was time for a change. (For the tagline, my life’s an irreparable heap.)

So I decided to change it this:

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

Well, it’s time for a change again. So I’m trying out a few possibilities.

idiotprufs: what happens when you don’t listen to that nagging little voice in your head.

idiotprufs: the blog that is wanted by the authorities for questioning.

idiotprufs: just do it. (Evidently, the people at Nike think they own everything.)

idiotprufs: the blog that got so drunk last night, it can’t remember where it left its pants.

idiotprufs: the last blog you will ever read…after you’ve stabbed your eyes out with a shrimp fork.

idiotprufs: the blog that makes my friends deny they know me.

idiotprufs: the reason most of my aunts no longer speaks to me. (I wish I had started it sooner.)

idiotprufs: the reason I’ve been burned in effigy by Bolivian pudding makers.

idiotprufs: reading it will make your breath perpetually minty fresh.

idiotprufs: the blog labeled a bitter disappointment by its parents.

idiotprufs: the blog that was a banana slug in a previous life.

idiotprufs: the blog that is…um…interesting.

Note: The above tagline is an actual quote from someone after reading this blog; I think she thought it was more polite than saying, “it made me vomit uncontrollably.”

idiotprufs: the blog that was abandoned in the wilderness, but found its way home.

idiotprufs: the new black–black is now forest green.

idiotprufs: it’s addictive like heroin, but without the needles.

idiotprufs: the subject of dozens of lawsuits.

idiotprufs: it’s only libel if isn’t true.

idiotprufs: it’s better than chugging a bowl full of Sea Monkeys.

idiotprufs: the blog that requires you to have all your shots.

idiotprufs: the crayon drawing of the literary world.

idiotprufs: not everybody that reads it suffers from a debilitating brain aneurysm…but it helps.

idiotprufs: it’s like something Mark Twain would write, but without all that annoying humor and wit.

idiotprufs: five minutes of your life that you will never get back.

idiotprufs: it’s like that rash that just won’t go away.

idiotprufs: reading it prevents scurvy.

idiotprufs: the blog that has resulted in almost zero cases of rabies.

idiotprufs: it’s practically a cure for not being an ax-wielding maniac.

idiotprufs: the blog that has never caused cancer in lab rats. (However, it is a death sentence for yaks.)

idiotprufs: Bigfoot’s favorite blog next to Outdoor Life.

idiotprufs: overlooked by the Pulitzer committee for purely political reasons.

idiotprufs: the blog that ran into Piers Morgan’s blog in a crowded bar, and beat the crap out of it.

idiotprufs: the real reason Edward Snowden fled the country.

idiotprufs: the only blog read aloud in Buckingham Palace.

idiotprufs: the blog that openly wonders if men from Nantucket ever get sick of being facetiously asked if they’re “the guy” from the limericks.

idiotprufs: the blog that caused Justin Bieber to snap.

idiotprufs: only stupid, repugnant, ugly people don’t like it.

idiotprufs: the blog that is being carefully monitored by the NSA.

idiotprufs: the greatest thing on the internet since that piano playing cat.

idiotprufs: the real father of Snooki’s baby.

idiotprufs: the blog that makes your eyes do this:

kimberly goodman

What did I just read?

idiotprufs: it’s considered a vile profanity in Portuguese.

idiotprufs: virtually none of the death threats were credible.

idiotprufs: developed in a secret underground laboratory below Martha Stewart’s house, by a race of super-smart ferrets.

Note: Mr. Squeakers, a ferret that escaped from Martha Stewart’s compound, described her home as wreaking of buttermilk pancakes and fear, but he also described it as being very tastefully decorated.

idiotprufs: the blog that’s destined to rule the world with an iron fist!

I kind of like the last one.

But Seriously

the critic

“You’re just not serious enough.”

My blog has recently received a criticism that I feel necessitates a response.

Note: when I write that my blog has received a criticism, what I mean is I’m choosing to focus on one criticism from the myriad of criticisms I have been inundated with. Criticisms of a variety and amount they compel the use of the words myriad and inundate.

I have meticulously constructed an eight-step process for dealing with criticism.

  1. Dismiss it initially with a forced chuckle.
  2. Allow it to slowly creep back into my thoughts.
  3. Push it to the dark recesses of my brain, where it will exist as a tiny glowing ember.
  4. Consciously ignore the fact that the glowing ember is growing into a substantial blaze.
  5. Remain in a state of denial as the blaze turns into an inferno.
  6. Enter a state of white-hot seething rage.
  7. The sudden realization that I’m just being silly and I need to relax.
  8. The next day I drop a package in the mail to the criticizer. The package contains a colony of Crazy, Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants. The label on the package reads: shake roughly before opening.

Note: Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants hate to be shaken; they especially hate to be shaken roughly.

What was the criticism that triggered this post?

This blog isn’t serious enough.

Ridiculous. Here are some of the serious topics this blog has tackled:

  • The growing garden gnome menace.
  • How to deal with unruly neighbors without leaving evidence.
  • How to destroy evidence.
  • The plight of our nation: the great mime scourge.
  • How to remove white face paint from your hand.

Note: I am by no means advocating that anyone slap a mime in the face. Violence is wrong.

  • The horror of being attacked with a dead weasel.
  • The horror of being attacked with a Justin Bieber doll.
  • The less horrific nature of being attacked by Justin Bieber himself.
  • The ongoing feud between Justin Bieber and Beaker the Muppet.
  • The embarrassment of being beaten up by a piece of felt.
  • How French fries cause cancer in lab rats.
  • How everything causes cancer in lab rats.
  • Why it sucks to be a lab rat.
  • Why bulls have names like Destroyer, The Mauler, and Widow-maker.
  • Why bull-riders have names like Bucky, Earl, and that guy who used to have testicles.
  • Why rodeo clowns smell like hay, manure, and quiet desperation.
  • Boy bands and why badgers hate them.
  • The ongoing search for the existence of Bigfoot.
  • Lady Bigfoot, her breasts, and the ongoing search for their existence.
  • What to do if someone accuses you of being a leprechaun.
  • Why crack cocaine is bad, and prompts others to accuse you of being a leprechaun.
  • Why crack cocaine causes others to brandish a weapon as they make wild accusations.
  • How crack cocaine can lead to your arrest.
  • Why people hate raccoons and their creepy little people hands.
  • The end of the world on December 12, 2012.
  • Other crap the Mayans got wrong.
  • Why Tom Cruise thinks we have aliens inside of us.
  • Other possible titles for Katie Holmes’s autobiography.
  • The discovery of a unicorn lair in North Korea
  • Other things weird little dictators believe in.
  • The correlation between great literature and monkeys throwing feces.

A veritable cornucopia of pure seriousness.

I think I’ve made my point.

Addendum

Another critic accused this blog of being almost funny. This person’s opinion almost matters.

His opinion walks right up to the edge of mattering but just doesn’t quite get there.

His opinion sticks its toes in the ocean of mattering but decides the water is too cold and probably filled with parasites and medical waste.

Instead of taking a nice swim, his opinion decides to go cliff diving.

The cliff diving almost goes well, but not quite.

His opinion ends its existence impaled on a jagged rock.

It’s a pity…almost.

idiotprufs, wile e coyote,

Opinions and gravity just don’t mix.

Irate Beaver ‘Takes Man Hostage’

mad beaver

Irate Beaver ‘Takes Man Hostage’

When I saw the headline above in my news feed, I felt an irrational giddiness, and a myriad of questions sprung to mind. (My giddiness faded slightly when I realized it didn’t read: Irate Bieber ‘Takes Man Hostage.’)

  • Did the beaver have a list of demands?
  • What was on the beaver’s list of demands?
  • Did he want a million dollars and a helicopter, or was he just after some good dam building thrush?
  • What was he so upset about?
  • Was he tired of the way his wife sarcastically says, “yeah, he’s as busy as a you-know-what,” when he hangs out with his buddies the muskrats, most of whom she does not approve?
  • Did he stumble upon a mirror and shockingly discover how ridiculous his teeth look?
  • Was he fed up with all the new EPA regulations that are making dam building a nightmare of red tape?
  • Was he just sick of hauling around stones and mud in the muck?
  • Who was the guy he’d taken hostage?
  • Was it some jerk throwing rocks at his dam?
  • Was it a smart alec who made one too many derisive comments about his big floppy tail?
  • Or was it one of those jackasses from the EPA who are always up in his business?

I decided to read the article to find out.

A rogue beaver struck terror into the heart of a man making his way home late at night in the Latvian city of Daugavpils, according to a local newspaper report picked up by Latvian Public Broadcasting.

The man, identified only as Sergei, says the beaver ran out of some bushes and suddenly bit him. He fell over as he tried to fight the rodent off and was bitten again as he tried to get up.

In what USA Today describes as a “Kafkian nightmare,” Sergei phoned police as the beaver “held him hostage” and refused to let him get up, only to have his plea for help allegedly dismissed as a prank call.

I can’t be certain, but I think USA Today may be confusing the works of Franz Kafka with Mad Magazine.

Sergei managed to persuade an initially disbelieving friend to come to his rescue, but the friend was pulled over by police for speeding. Cops—after breathalyzing the friend—accompanied him to the scene and discovered he had been telling the truth about the hostile beaver.

It is literally impossible to read the preceding paragraph and not feel happy.

And I would be remiss if I didn’t point something out: every time I’ve been pulled over for speeding because I was on my way to help a friend who was being held hostage by a beaver, the police here in the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania have been nothing but helpful. Sure, they beat me tree branches and taser me a bit, but that’s to be expected.

Animal welfare officers were called and the man’s ordeal ended with him receiving 15 stitches, though the beaver is still at large. Latvia’s TV.Net reports that authorities in Daugavpils are taking the incident seriously, though it is “quite difficult to choose the measures which should be taken” to prevent similar attacks by beavers, which can become increasingly aggressive when they seek out new homes in spring.

The beaver is still at large? So the beaver outsmarted Latvian police and animal welfare officers–good for you beaver…good for you.

And it is quite difficult to choose the measures which should be taken. So let’s do nothing, because the more stories that pop up like this one, the better. (Except for Sergei, my apologies to Sergei.)

beaver

Latvian police sketch artist rendering of alleged perpetrator–be on the lookout.

Toothless and Full Figured in Pennsylvania: How I Would Tell the Story

Goodbye, dear friend.

UNSPECIFIED SMALL TOWN, PA.–A local dentist is facing a medical malpractice inquiry and possible assault charges after removing all of her ex-boyfriend’s teeth.

The aptly named Anita Payback told authorities that she had every intention of maintaining professionalism until she pulled that first tooth.

“I yanked out that first tooth and it felt so good. So I yanked out another one. After that, I pulled another one. Then I thought, this is horrible, I can’t do this. So I downed half a bottle of vodka and yanked them all out.”

“I knew something was wrong as soon as I woke up,” the victim, John Q. Stoogely told authorities, “I couldn’t feel my teeth, my face was heavily bandaged and just felt weird all over. I looked over at Anita and she was just sitting there, laughing hysterically and clutching an empty bottle of Vodka. Sitting on the counter next to her was a jar full of bloody teeth. The jar was labeled: Rat Bastard’s teeth.”

When asked if he didn’t think it was a bad idea to go to a recently jilted girlfriend for dental work, he replied, “Why would I? I made it very clear to Anita that the break up had nothing to do with her: my new girlfriend Brenda is just younger, prettier, and she just looks better in daylight.”

But the story gets even weirder. “As I was waking up, I realized that my chest was really sore. I went to rub my chest and there they were; not only had she pulled all my teeth, she had also given me breast implants.”

According to Anita, the trouble with their relationship had started a few months earlier on her birthday. “I opened my birthday present and I couldn’t believe my eyes. He had gotten me a pair of breast implants. He offered to pay for the surgery like it was an act of great generosity. Well he wanted breast implants, now he’s got them…the case of anti-aging cream pissed me off too.”

“I can’t believe she did this,” John commented. “I trusted her. I even told her right before she put me under, that I knew she would do a good job because what women of her age lose in looks, they gain in maturity.”

To punctuate an already odd story, John’s new girlfriend Brenda has broken up with him.

“He’s got no teeth,” Brenda told us, “and it turns out he’s kind of an idiot. And quite frankly, I just can’t date a man who has bigger breasts than I do.”

“Seriously, I’m gonna do it.”

Stupid and Toothless in Poland (or Not)

“Off to the dentist, what could go wrong?”

Several months ago I wrote a post about a news story involving a man in Poland and his girlfriend.

It seemed that Marek Olszewski broke off his relationship with his girlfriend Anna Mackowiak. A few days later he showed up at the dentist complaining of a toothache. The twist: Ms. Mackowiak was the dentist.

She allegedly gave him a heavy dose of anesthesia and proceeded to pull every one of his teeth.

When he woke up he knew something wasn’t right because he couldn’t feel his teeth and his head was heavily bandaged.

Mackowiak faced an investigation for medical malpractice and three years in prison.

Olszewski’s current girlfriend broke up with him, who wants to date a guy who has no teeth?

There was only one problem with the story: it was a hoax.

I was deeply disappointed. But what was I disappointed about? I wasn’t certain.

Was I disappointed that a man wasn’t the victim of assault?

I don’t think so.

Was I disappointed that an obviously distraught woman, wasn’t facing possible prison time and the ruination of her career?

No.

Am I just a bad person who enjoys the perils of others?

Maybe, but that’s not why I was disappointed.

Was I disappointed that the worst decision that any man has made since John Bobbitt bought his wife Lorena that set of kitchen knives for her birthday, hadn’t really happened?

A bit.

Was I disappointed that a story, unburdened by the limitations of the truth, wasn’t a little more fantastic?

Yes!!!

Think of the possibilities.

  • She could have pulled every tooth, except the one with the cavity; leaving a painful mocking reminder.
  • She could have pulled his teeth in a pattern that made him look like a jack-o-lantern.
  • She could have pulled all of his teeth and given him two huge veneers in front so that he looked like Bugs Bunny. Then Super Glued a carrot to his hand.
  • She could have bleached his face and given him veneers that made him look like a vampire. (And not one of those trendy vampires from True Blood, but one of those old-timey Bela Lugosi vampires.)
  • She could have given him tooth tattoos that read, I’m a douche, every time he smiled.
  • She could have given him a face tattoo, Mike Tyson style.
  • She could have pulled all of his teeth, turned them into a necklace, and then worn it to court.
  • She could have replaced all of his teeth with Chiclets, just to see how long it would take him to notice.
  • She could have promised him that he would never have another toothache again, then laughed maniacally as she put him under the anesthesia.
  • She could have charged him for every tooth she pulled, then offered him a 10% discount on dentures.
  • She could have fled the country and disappeared forever. The only evidence of her existence: an envelope that her former boyfriend receives every year on the anniversary of the break-up. The envelope always contains one tooth and a mocking note counting down the years until he finally has all his teeth again.

The possibilities were limitless.

My Next Post: How the story would have gone if I had written it.

One remaining tooth, as a mocking reminder.

Top Ten Ways Tom Brady has Passed the Time During his Suspension

tom brady family

Tom’s been spending a lot of time with the family lately…and with a big creepy firetruck.

As many of you are probably aware, New England Patriots’ quarterback, Tom Brady, is entering the final week of a four week suspension from the team.

The NFL imposed the suspension in an official statement that read:

As the all-powerful and omnipresent National Football League, we hereby declare that Tom Brady is a liar-liar-pants-on-fire cheater. We believe he oversaw the purposeful deflating of official game balls so they would more readily fit in his tiny little-girl hands. We also believe he occasionally taunts squirrels and steals their nuts, just for the fun of it. While squirrel taunting isn’t expressly against any NFL rules, we just think it’s creepy.

As a part of the suspension, Tom can have no contact with the team or his teammates. So he had to find ways to pass the time.

#10

Needlepoint: Tom has mastered the craft of counted thread embroidery. His home is now decorated with dozens of embroideries that bear the same quaint saying: Roger Goodell Sucks.

#9

Ancestry.com: upon studying his ancestry, Tom discovered he is descended from a famous 19th century hot-air balloonist. Tragically his ancestor perished when he attempted to make a flight with his balloon badly under-inflated.

#8

Football Accident: Tom has been dealing with the fallout after inadvertently hitting his sister, Marcia Brady, in the face with a football on the day of her big date with Doug Simpson the local football star.

football brady

Tom Brady’s sister: Marcia Brady.

#7

Giselle: he’s been spending a great deal of time hanging out with his wife, Giselle, and her friends.

Victoria's Secret

In case you were starting to feel sorry for Tom…don’t.

#6

Scrapbooking: after taking a scrapbooking course at the local learning annex, Tom compiled a complete history of the entire deflategate saga. He entitled it: Roger Goodell Sucks.

#5

Some Light Reading: Tom read The Truth about Inflation by Paul Donovan. It had absolutely nothing to do with footballs.

Tom Brady

A horribly misleading title.

#4

Some more light reading: after the bitter disappointment of The Truth about Inflation, Tom joined a book club. They were reading The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants by Ann Brashares. He found it to be heartwarming, and lamented that he and Rob Gronkowski can never find a pair a jeans that perfectly fits them both.

Note: Tom also read a biography of Roger Goodell–it sucked.

#3

Part-Time Job: Tom took a part-time job at a local service station checking tire pressure. He was let go for obvious reasons.

#2

Frivolous Lawsuit: Tom has filed a ridiculous and petty lawsuit against a small-time blogger who may have or may not have implied that Tom occasionally taunts squirrels and steals their nuts.

#1

Viagra Spokesman:

brady

“When that special moment starts to happen, is your “game ball” under-inflated?”

What’s Wrong With Me?

feeling ill I’m not feeling right.

Something is a bit off.

I seem to be suffering from some mysterious medical condition.

The symptoms are myriad:

  • Nausea.
  • Runny nose.
  • Headaches in my stomach.
  • Stomach aches in my head.
  • Squirrels steal my mail and replace it with half eaten nuts.
  • Everything smells like fear.
  • Everything tastes like pine cones.
  • Pine cones taste like pickled beets (but they smell like fear).
  • The sound of Justin Bieber’s voice makes me weep uncontrollably.
  • I have a rash on my butt in the shape of Piers Morgan’s face.
  • I have a rash on my face in the shape of Piers Morgan’s butt.
  • My left eyeball pops out of its socket at really inconvenient times.
  • Itchy scalp.
  • Dizziness.
  • Chills.
  • Tremors.
  • Tremors 2.
  • Any movie involving giant mutant worms.
  • Sleeplessness.
  • Sleeplessness from incontinence.
  • Sleeplessness from continents, especially Europe.
  • Sleeplessness because Elvis’ ghost visits me nightly and gripes endlessly about how Mary Tyler Moore Hogged all the screen time in Change of Habit.
  • The compulsion to make ridiculous lists.
  • Paranoia.

In my quest for answers I’ve read several books authored by a world renown doctor.

Unfortunately, upon reading these books, I’ve discovered them to be no help at all. Not only did these books not reveal any insights regarding my condition, I now have an incredible craving for green eggs and ham, and an intense desire to write in poetic meter.

This is bad.

It’s very bad–So very bad, you see.

“Egad it’s so very bad,” I said to me.

It’s sad when things are bad,

would you not agree?

I would be so glad to not be sad.

I’d be a happy lad, so full of glee,

and live so happily.

Do you see how infuriating that is?

After doing some follow-up research, I’ve found the author of these books, Theodore Seuss Geisel, to be a complete fraud, and not a medical professional of any kind.

Note: in another shocking turn of events, I’ve discovered the renowned author and child care expert, Dr. Spock, wasn’t really a Vulcan. When will the misinformation and subterfuge end?

doctor spock vulcan

Dr. Spock was born in New Haven, Connecticut. Frankly, that’s not even close to Vulcan.


But this spurred an epiphany: my condition has been caused by stress and anxiety; the stress and anxiety that results from living a lie.

A horrible lie.

A horrible horrible lie.

Horrible!

I have written in the past about a certain tattoo. A tattoo on my left butt cheek. A tattoo of Winnie the Pooh with his head stuck in a honey pot. I’ve referenced it often.

It’s a lie.

I haven’t any tattoos of lovable cartoons charters on or around my buttocks.

I apologize to anyone my lies may have hurt.

I apologize to A. A. Milne.

I feel so ashamed.

Hopefully now that the truth is out, the healing can begin.

Thank you for your patience.

ADDENDUM:

Sometimes when Elvis’ ghost visits me, he brings me peanut butter and banana sandwiches. They taste like pine cones and they smell like fear.

horton hears a who

Horton can hear a Who, but he can’t help you diagnose the cause of your explosive diarrhea.

Errant Cannon Fire from Niagara Deflates World’s Largest Rubber Duck

I am overjoyed at how many people thought this really happened.

Staff Reporter's avatargooferie

frdTragedy struck at Erie’s Tall Ships Festival this morning when a cannon from the Niagara misfired and shot a cannonball into the world’s largest rubber duck, deflating it within minutes.

Witnesses say the giant duck was floating about 30 yards from the Niagara when the shot was fired. “It’s a shame,” said festival patron Ernie, no last name given. “I’m awfully fond of that rubber ducky.”

Repairs are already underway as workers have gathered over 100 rolls of duck tape to patch up the hole.

The owners of the duck, Big Duck LLC, plan on sending the bill to the Niagara League. They will also submit an invoice for damages.

View original post

The Great Mushroom Fiasco

 

Seemingly innocent fungus.

Seemingly innocent fungus.

There are those rare events in human history so extraordinary, they must be recorded for future generations.

Stories that must be told and retold.

Sometimes exaggerated, but mostly not.

The Great Mushroom Fiasco was such an event.

Brenda: Would you like to try some of the pasta sauce I just made?

Dan (with uncertainty): I don’t know.

Kirby (with certainty): Absolutely not.

Brenda (taken aback): Why not?

Kirby: Really?

Dan: Sometimes your culinary creations (pausing to select his words judicially) don’t turn out quite right.

Kirby: The phrase “catastrophic failures” springs to mind.

Brenda: Maybe I’ve had a few minor set-backs.

Kirby: You’ve had minor set-backs, the way the maiden voyage of the Titanic was a minor set-back.

Brenda: Yes, I’ve had a few little accidents.

Kirby: You’ve had a few little accidents, the way Chernobyl was a little accident.

Brenda: Not all the things I make turn out badly.

Kirby: Not all of the Hindenburg’s flights turned out badly, but when things do go wrong–oh the humanity.

Brenda: Now you’re just being ridiculous.

Kirby: Remember the time you boiled eggs and forgot to put the water in?

Brenda: (Silence)

Kirby: The eggs exploded all over the kitchen, and set off all the smoke alarms.

Brenda (grudgingly): I remember.

Kirby: You can’t boil things without the water; it’s the water that actually does the boiling.

Brenda: I understand how things boil.

Kirby: The evidence would suggest otherwise.

Dan (remembering): There were bits of egg on the ceiling.

Kirby: Do you recall the time you made the lasagna and forgot the noodles?

Brenda (defensively): It happens to people.

Kirby: But it doesn’t happen to people. The process of making a lasagna, requires that you construct it in layers, several of which are noodles.

Brenda: I know how to make a lasagna.

Kirby: Again, the evidence would suggest otherwise.

Dan (sighing): It was just a big pan of meat sauce and cheese.

Brenda: (glaring at Dan with disapproval.)

Kirby: Or the time you made potato salad and it made everyone’s tongue itch. I didn’t even know that was a thing that could happen.

Dan: The potato salad was weird.

Brenda: I don’t know why that happened.

Dan: What about the brownies? (Dan excitedly jumps into the fun.)

Kirby: That’s right. You made brownies and they fused to the pan. You broke a spatula and bent several forks before you finally threw the entire thing into the backyard.

Dan: Don’t forget, she also beat on it with a meat tenderizer.

Kirby (laughing): Yes she did. Even the raccoons wouldn’t touch those brownies.

Dan: Those brownies were like carbon steel; you could’ve patched asphalt…

Brenda (interrupting Dan): Enough! Are you going to try some or not?

Kirby: No.

Brenda: And what about you? (looking at Dan in a manner that indicated that he didn’t have a choice.)

Dan: Yes please.

Kirby: And that’s why I don’t have a girlfriend.

Brenda: I’m sure the reasons you don’t have a girlfriend are numerous.

Kirby: That hurts a little.

Brenda (turning to Dan): I promise you’re going to like this.

(Brenda serves up the pasta with a healthy helping of sauce. Dan spears some with his fork and carefully studies it.)

Kirby: It’s like taking off a bandage: you have to just go for it.

(Dan pokes the morsel into his mouth, chewing cautiously at first. A look of surprise spreads over his face as his chewing gains momentum.)

Dan: This is really good.

Brenda (addressing Kirby): See. Would you like to try some now?

Kirby: No thanks. I’ll just stand here and wait for the other shoe.

Brenda: What other shoe?

Kirby: The one that’s certain to drop.

Dan (innocently): What kind of mushrooms are these?

Brenda: They’re wild mushrooms. I know how much you like wild mushrooms; when I saw them, I immediately thought of you.

Dan (slight concern): I didn’t know you knew anything about wild mushrooms.

Brenda: Oh, I don’t know anything about wild mushrooms.

Dan (more than slight concern): Then…how did you know that these mushrooms weren’t poisonous?

Brenda: Because they were growing in a field.

Dan (very concerned): So?

Brenda: Mushrooms that grow in a field are never poisonous…right?

Dan (sarcastically): Absolutely you’re right. And if you find mushrooms in a field, and a crow flies overhead at noon and caws three times, the mushrooms aren’t poisonous either.

Brenda: Really?

Dan: No you idiot! There are a lot of poisonous mushrooms that grow in fields.

Kirby: And there it is.

Brenda: There’s what?!

Kirby: The other shoe clunking to the floor.

Dan (ignoring Kirby): Where exactly did you find them growing.

Brenda: In a pasture on a…

Dan: On a what?

Brenda: On a big pile of cow poop.

Kirby: That is fantastic.

Dan: That is not fantastic. In fact, it’s not good at all. What did they look like?

Brenda: I don’t know, I’m not a mushroom expert.

Dan: And that is why you don’t go around all willy-nilly, picking wild mushrooms and dumping them into pasta sauce.

Brenda: But you use wild mushrooms all the time.

Dan: I AM AN EXPERT! Now what did they look like?

Brenda (flustered): I don’t know, Dan. I guess they looked like tiny penises.

Kirby: May I point out something very important?

Dan (impatiently): What?

Kirby: The alarming frequency with which your name seem to crop up in the midst of the words tiny and penis.

Dan: No it doesn’t.

Kirby: It just did twice. In fact, Brenda said she immediately thought of you when she saw the tiny penis-shaped mushrooms?

Brenda: Because he likes wild mushrooms.

Dan: Yeah. Because I like wild mushrooms.

Kirby: I’m just saying it’s a little peculiar.

Brenda: You’re not being helpful.

Kirby: It wasn’t my intention to be helpful. It seldom ever is.

Brenda: Then try to be helpful.

Kirby: Okay. Dan, have you given any thought to what you’d like on your gravestone?

Brenda: Really? That’s you being helpful?

Kirby: How is that not being helpful?

Brenda (turning back to Dan): You could have your stomach pumped.

Kirby: Ooh. Having your stomach pumped is really unpleasant.

Brenda: And how do you know That?

Kirby: It has to be.

Brenda: Have you ever had your stomach pumped?

Kirby: No.

Brenda: How can you say that something is unpleasant, if it’s never happened to you?

Kirby: I’ve never been hit in the face with a brick, but I can say with a relative degree of certainty, that the experience would not be pleasant.

Dan (agitated): Is having your stomach pumped more unpleasant than dying? Is it? Is it more unpleasant that dying?

Kirby: Calm down, you don’t need to have your stomach pumped. All you have to do is make yourself throw-up.

Dan: That’s a good idea.

Kirby (turning to Brenda): See. Helpful.

Brenda: You think you know everything.

Kirby: I know not to eat penis shaped poop mushrooms. (Quickly changing gears.) You know, you could wind-up in the Weird Stories section of the Sunday paper: Person Poisoned By Penis Shaped Poop Mushrooms. It has built-in alliteration.

Brenda: That isn’t funny.

Kirby: Not for you.

Brenda (dialing her phone): I’m going to call my friend Linda, she’s a nurse, she’ll know what to do. (Talking into her phone.) Linda. It’s Brenda. I think I just poisoned Dan. (Indistinct chatter from the phone.) No. Not on purpose. (More indistinct chatter.) I made pasta sauce with wild mushrooms (More chatter.) No. I didn’t forget the pasta again. (A lot of chatter.) It does happen to people. (Even more chatter.) They looked liked tiny penises. (laughter followed by indistinct chatter) His name does not crop up around the words tiny and penis all the time. (Chatter.) Well, after he ate it, he went to the bathroom to throw-up. (More laughter followed by more chatter.) What do mean, more than usual? (Final chatter.) Okay. Bye.

(Sounds of vomiting emanating from the bathroom.)

Brenda: She said if he throws-up he’ll be fine.

Kirby: Physically maybe, but the psychological scars: they’re going to linger.

(Dan emerges from the bathroom, covered in sweat, eyes bloodshot, and face ashen.)

Dan (hoarsely): It’s done. I need a drink to get this taste out of my mouth.

(Dan walks to the refrigerator, opens the door, pulls something out, and stares at it in silence for a moment.)

Dan (puzzled): What’s this?

Kirby: Wow. That appears to be to be a bowl full of tiny penis shaped mushrooms.

(Dan and Kirby look at Brenda for an explanation.)

Brenda (confused): I guess I didn’t use those after-all. I must have used regular mushrooms. That’s good news right?

Dan (agitated): It’s just freaking fantastic.

Kirby: This is like the gift that just keeps on giving.

Brenda: This better not wind-up in some blog post that makes me look like an idiot.

Kirby: Don’t worry–that would never happen.

A must for Brenda's kitchen.

A must for Brenda’s kitchen.

Post Navigation