idiotprufs

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

Archive for the tag “idiocy”

How to Appreciate Poetry in a Right and Proper Way

 

bullwinkle

Bullwinkle, appreciating the hell out some poetry.

Every now and again, when I’m feeling intellectually illiterate or a bit lowbrow, (anyone who has read this blog to any extent can understand how frequently that may be) I will resolve the feeling by appreciating poetry.

I just head to my closet, yank out my poetry sack, pull out a big wad of poetry, and appreciate the hell out of it.

Note: my poetry sack also serves as a repository for random unmatched socks.

When appreciating poetry in a right and proper way, there are a few things that are key:

Comprehension

If you can even remotely understand the meaning of a poem, it isn’t a proper poem. Poems tend to be vague or nebulous. Poets like to throw around a dizzying menagerie of random imagery, designed to confuse and disorient. If you’ve just finished reading a poem and you haven’t vomited in your mouth a bit, it isn’t proper poetry.

Symbolism

When a poet writes a poem about a leaf being blown from a tree, falling to the ground, and being trampled underfoot, he’s not actually writing about a leaf being blown from a tree, falling to the ground, and being trampled underfoot.

The leaf represents hopelessness, and the futility of a life marred by series of tragic events. The leaf being blown from the tree represents a life spiralling into an alcohol fueled abyss of despair. The leaf being trampled underfoot represents the crushing weight of an uncaring world and inevitable grip of death.

A morbid bunch–poets.

Emotional Response

Poems are written to evoke an emotional response from its readers. Once after reading a collection of poems by Sylvia Plath, I spent hours curled-up on the floor in the fetal position as I sobbed uncontrollably.

An excerpt from Daddy, one of Sylvia Plath’s best known poems:

If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two——
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.
There’s a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.

Holy Crap! Right?

Note: I don’t want to paint the picture that all poets are emotionally distressed alcoholics with father issues– but the really good ones are.

But Limericks Are Fun
Limericks are short humorous poems with a strict meter and A-A-B-B-A rhyme scheme. They tend to revolve around a man with an odd ability, from a small island off the coast of Massachusetts.
Sonnets
Sonnets are fourteen line poems that rose to popularity in the 13th century. They tend to be written by William Shakespeare and lovelorn teenage boys who are trying to impress teenage girls who are way out of their league.
Haiku
Haiku is not proper poetry, let’s all just stop pretending that it is.
Epic Poems
These are lengthy poems that generally involve deeds of heroism. A few examples of epic poems: Divine Comedy by Dante, Paul Revere’s Ride by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Horton Hears a Who by Theodor Seuss Geisel.
Dr. Seuss
Don’t be fooled by this charlatan, while he may be the brilliant author of dozens of classic children’s books, he is not and has never been a medical professional.
Emily Dickinson vs. Angie Dickinson

Be sure that you know the difference. You don’t want to be chatting up a girl who is gushing over her love of Emily Dickinson when you say, “I know, she was smoking hot in Big Bad Mama.” Seriously– it ends badly.

angie Dickinson

This is not Emily Dickinson.

Interesting Fact
The Baltimore Ravens, the NFL franchise in Baltimore, is named after Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven.
Note: if I had named the NFL franchise in Baltimore after an Edgar Allan Poe poem, I would have called them the Baltimore Conquering Worms. How much cooler would that have been?
A Moment of Braggadocio
I once wrote an essay in college, explicating The Tyger by William Blake, on which I received a grade of 99%. Take that doubters.
You Are Now Ready
You are now ready to pull out your own poetry sack, and start appreciating the hell out of poetry.
Final Note
I don’t want any whiny comments from people who love Haiku, write Haiku, read Haiku, or though the certifying of some bizarre clerical error at the hospital, have been named Haiku. It was just a joke…mostly.
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Just a Bit of Advice


bat crazy

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

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

So stop it!

Thank You

newhart

Clowns and Penises: A Message to Overbearing Parents

brat kid

What a precious child.

Please stop showing me pictures of your baby.

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

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

We do not.

What people say: what a beautiful baby you have.

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

sleestack

Daddy?

 

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

And stop acting like everything your child does is precious.

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

Your child shaved the dog: not precious.

Your child peed on the cat: not precious

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

gollum

Mommy?

 

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

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

fire

The future?

Deliverance: Not the Only River Tale to End Badly

rafting

“Paddle faster you idiots.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you certain that’s safe?”

“Absolutely, these are very deep rapids.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

river raft

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

Smoking: What are You Waiting For?

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

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

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

smoking face

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

The plight of tobacco executives in our country.

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

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

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

The word emphysema is really fun to say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You need to know what they’re talking about.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Justin Bieber’s Shrunken Face: More Weird Search Terms

justin bieber

It’s just so little.

As always, these are all real search terms from my stats page, rewritten exactly the way I found them, followed by a quick comment from myself.

why does it look like my penis has bug bites on the bottom of it  You put your penis somewhere you shouldn’t have.

how to get wifes feet to stink like cheese   I found 36 different combinations with the words: wife, feet, stink and cheese. Thank you Freshly Pressed for making my blog a foot fetish destination.

sexy man riding a unicorn images  The poster on my bedroom wall, right next to my poster of Shaun Cassidy.

construction worker thumbs up thumbs up  One fifth of The Village People, really happy really happy.

mooning kilt  Aren’t all kilts for mooning?

my children’s story keep getting rejected  Your story, Little Billy’s First Kite and the High Voltage Power Lines, was a little disturbing.

childrens story limburger cheese  This one sucked too.

tom cruise is an idiot  I am very honored that Nicole Kidman visited my blog.

how many idiot are in the church of scientology  One less since Nicole left Tom.

cukes  Exactly.

katie holmes open mouth  Katie, stunned that I didn’t use her name for those jokes.

cartoon vomit on guy  The disastrous result of my prom date with Olive Oyl.

dental phobia funny jokes  There is nothing funny about dental phobias.

“pulled all his teeth”  See!

pi alamode  3.14 pieces of pie with ice cream on top.

bug eyed black guy  Dynomite! (If you get that reference, you’re old.)

bad guidance counselor of the year  The guidance counselor who advised this guy.

idiotprufs honey bee

His pay is all the honey he can eat.

Bug mac  More gross than a Big Mac, but slightly more nutritious.

Why you should start smoking  Because emphysema is fun to say.

a monkey was once tried and convicted for smoking a cigarette in south bend, indiana   Man, those priests at Notre Dame are strict.

best reasons for kids to start smoking  If a monkey can do it, it’s got to be fun.

tinkerbell playing football  The reason Disneyland’s football team sucks.

mcdonalds fries and rats  All I want is the rat, but they push the fries on me anyway.

snooki rhyme satire  Much better that Snooki Haiku.

limerick about idiots  But not as good as the limericks about Snooki.

cartoon boxers  Much more comfortable than cartoon briefs.

bee angry angry bee happy redd bee  One of Dr. Seuss’ lesser known works.

a vicious cartoon bear  Boo Boo finally got sick of Yogi’s crap.

instrument for digging holes  Really?

bigfoot smokes pot  So do you if you don’t know what a shovel is called.

job interview stoned  Not a good idea unless you’re applying to be Justin Bieber’s pilot.

justin biebers shrunken face  I’m more than a little proud this search term brought someone to this blog.

boy band with clown  Aren’t they all?

list of things that gets bulls angry  Bull-riders, rodeo clowns, matadors, and boy bands. (It should be noted, the entire animal kingdom hates boy bands, especially badgers.)

permanent cure for athletes foot  A hacksaw, a tourniquet, and a peg leg.

self-medication criteria in ungulates  Just don’t put their medication in child proof bottles; they have a horrible time opening them with their hoofed feet.

self medicating before family gatherings  Before…during…after.

stuff you never want to hear from a new neighbor  Hi, you probably recognize me from the Jersey Shore.

facts about bigfoot  They love Jack Links beef jerky, but they hate Jack Links Messin’ With Sasquatch commercials.

Sasquatch in the woods  That too.

facts about mermaids  They all have crabs. (As pets. What did you think I meant?)

can an idiot ride a unicorn  Only if he’s a mythological idiot.

my summer story pictures  Even the search term sounds boring.

girl tooth fairy girl green disney channel  ??????

squat comedy  I should be able to think of something funny for this, I just can’t.

lady gaga costume designer  Also her butcher.idiotprufs lady gaga

pee electricity words wisdom  The first and last time you will ever see those words together.

cartoon cows behind an electric fence  Are you sure that fence is electrified.

my penis hit an electric fence  The worst possible way to check if a fence is electrified.

funny surprised face  Your face two seconds after your penis touched that fence.

hysterical laughter cartoon  Your friends two seconds after your penis touched that fence.

looking detective search term idiotprufs

“Whoa, his face really has shrunken.”

They Must Be Stopped: the Garden Gnome Menace

We're here for you.

There are more of them everyday.

It is a well known and widely accepted fact that garden gnomes are evil creatures of the night.

They spend their days in an inanimate state, surrounding the homes of the naïve, who have become witless servants to their evil machinations.

They often assume silly poses and sport whimsical names such as Boddywinkle or Fudwick.

This whimsy is a lie.

This whimsy is a lie.

Do not be fooled by this subterfuge, they are maniacal creatures with evil plans.

This is far more typical behavior.

This is far more typical behavior.

There are some in the so-called “scientific community” who will try to tell you this is hokum, mere nonsense.

Some are those who are secretly working in concert with the gnomes, helping to propagate their plans for world domination.

Some of these men of science are just quacks; they don’t believe gardens gnomes come to life at night. They don’t believe in ghosts or bigfoot or that the Earth is flat. Quacks!

image source: wpclipart.com

“Garden gnomes are harmless decorations, and not at all sinister…I’m not a quack.”

Here is a short list of some of nighttime activities in which garden gnomes engage:

  • They pee on your vegetable garden. (This might also be the Gerald the neighbor kid.)
  • They taunt your neighbor’s dog so that it barks all freaking night. (Also possibly Gerald.)
  • They let the air out of your tires, but different amounts in every tire, so that your ride to work is really bumpy.
  • They sneak into your garage and replace all your English standard unit tools with metric tools, so that when you try to fix something, nothing quite fits.
  • In Canada, they do they opposite.
  • They put signs on your front door that read: Jehovah’s Witnesses Welcome.
  • They take one bite out of the apple, then put it back in the bowl.
  • They drive really slow in the fast lane.
  • They paint the phrase, Justin Bieber Rules, in bright pink letters on the side of your car. But they paint it on the passenger side, so you don’t see it right away, and drive all the way to work with people inexplicably pointing at you and laughing.
  • They fill your mailbox with pinecones. Really sticky ones.
  • They sneak into your home and replace all your Yuengling Traditional Lager with Natural Light.

See what I mean–pure evil.

There is a singular weapon that is particularly effective in the battle against garden gnomes: a silver plated shovel. (You can also kill them with a regular shovel, but it’s not nearly as cool.)

Gruesome but necessary.

Gruesome but necessary.

This menace must be dispatched.

Their plans to foment anarchy must be stopped.

Get your shovel today and join me in this call to arms.

Warning: You might have crybaby neighbors who have a proclivity for calling the police, acquiring court orders, or posting videos of you smashing their garden gnomes in your footy pajamas. So be careful.

Grab your weapon today.

An instrument of garden gnome death, or if you just need to dig hole, it’s good for that too.

A Bad Job Interview and Ungulates.

He likes to size up new employees with a long hard stare.
(image source: theitcrowd.wikia.com)

He stares at you with an unwavering gaze as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. The seconds grow into minutes. The minutes grow into slightly more minutes. His unwavering gaze intensifies into a penetrating glare.

Beads of sweat well on your forehead.

The faint buzz of the flourescent lighting above you is the only sound in the room.

He picks up the phone and begins to dial, never averting his steely eyes from yours. He suddenly stops dialing and slams the receiver back into the cradle.

You flinch, beads of sweat break and run down the side of your face.

He sits back and crosses his hands, he seems to relax. You relax a little.

He then suddenly lurches forward and yells at you in a booming voice, “ungulates.”

Your brain frantically searches for the proper response. “What?” Is the best that your brain can do.

“Ungulate, it roughly means hoofed animals or being hoofed,” he explains.

“I know what an ungulate is,” you respond defensively.

“Then why did you seem so perplexed by the word?” He demands.

“I guess I was just startled,” you answer.

“Do many words startle you?”

“Words don’t startle me,” you say with incredulity.

“So you claim. Yet the word ungulate seemed to make you wet yourself. What other words give you a start?”

“I’m not afraid of any words,” you maintain.

“So it’s just ungulates that you hate. That’s a problem.”

“I don’t hate ungulates,” you reply, feeling a sense of desperation although you’re not certain why.

“I love ungulates,” he tells you with conviction. “My father loved ungulates. My father’s father loved ungulates…His father didn’t care for them, something about being kicked in the side of the head.” He then pauses for several moments, staring into the distance in a reflective manner, before continuing with renewed vigor. “But his father really loved ungulates. I don’t think that I could work with a person who didn’t love ungulates.”

“I love ungulates too,” you tell him latching on to his enthusiasm.

“Very well,” he says as he eyes you with suspicion, “what is the best type of ungulate?”

It’s at this point, you realize that you have never once in your life stopped to consider the qualities of ungulates. “The zebra,” you answer apprehensively.

“Are you currently high on crystal-meth?” The interviewer demands.

“Why. Is that the wrong answer?”

“No. Zebra is the proper answer, but you’re very skittish and sweaty.”

“I just didn’t think there’d be so many questions about ungulates for this type of job?” You tell him.

“You are absolutely correct. Let’s get on with a proper interview shall we.” You nod in agreement, glad to be getting on with it. “So, why do want to be a proctologist; do you enjoy sticking your finger up other men’s butts?”

“What? No. I don’t want to be a proctologist.”

“Well then why are you here?” He asks you accusingly.

“Isn’t this an accounting firm,” you ask confusedly.

He shuffles through some of the papers on his desk, reads through a few of them thoroughly, shuffles through a few more, then looks up at you. “You’re right, this is an accounting firm. How silly of me. We almost never have cause to stick our fingers up other men’s butts. Except on Thursdays, there’s quite a lot of it on Thursdays, but other than that, almost never.”

“Okay?” you say with a total lack of conviction.

“I suppose you’re well equipped at adding and subtracting numbers, because that’s the type of thing we’re looking for in a proctol…I mean accountant.”

“Yes. I’m very good at math,” you assure him.

“Quickly. What does 6+5-2 equal?” He snaps at you.

“That would of course be nine,” you reply confidently.

He stares at you for a moment. He then pulls a small calculator from his desk drawer and punches several buttons. “Amazing. That is absolutely correct, and you didn’t need an adding machine, an abacus, or even your fingers. You just did it right in your head.”

“It was really just a child’s question,” you tell him modestly.

“Nonsense. You are brilliant. When can you start?”

“I can start immediately.”

“There’s just one little thing: what is your opinion on diseased chimpanzees?” The interviewer asks.

“I don’t think I have an opinion on diseased chimpanzees,” you tell him with uncertainty.

“Don’t be silly, everyone has an opinion on diseased chimpanzees.”

“Really?” You seem doubtful. “What’s your opinion on diseased chimpanzees?”

“I think they’re smug,” he tells you with a tinge of contempt in his voice.

“Why is it relevant?”

“All of our employees share a desk with a diseased chimpanzee.”

“Why in the world is that?”

“It seems we were doing a job for a research lab and misplaced a few million dollars of theirs. Now we have to house some of their less than successful projects.”

“You misplaced a few million dollars,” you ask in total disbelief.

“Look,” he replies angrily, “not everyone is as brilliant at math as you are. Listen, getting along with a diseased chimpanzee as a desk-mate is really very simple: don’t make eye contact, don’t make any sudden movements, don’t ever use his stapler, don’t let him use his stapler to staple documents to your forehead; they will do that, and if he hurls his feces at you, don’t hurl yours back.”

“Do you honestly think, I need to be told not to hurl my feces in the workplace?”

“There have been incidents.”

“This is crazy. I don’t want to work here. I don’t want to work for you, and certainly don’t want to work with a diseased chimpanzee. I’m out of here.” You storm out in a huff.

“And he wanted to be a proctologist; he doesn’t possess the temperament,” the interviewer mumbles to himself, “and I would never allow him near my ungulates.”

zebra ungulate

“You got a problem with me?”

A Few Helpful Hints For Your Job Interview

Things you should not wear to a job interview:

  • A belt buckle that reads: The Boss Sucks.
  • Your “I’m too drunk to care” t-shirt.
  • That shirt you own that has a mustard stain shaped like Jiminy Cricket.
  • That shirt you own that has a siracha stain shaped like Donald Duck.
  • Any shirt, with any stain, shaped like any Disney character.
  • That sombrero you’re so proud of.
  • Your alligator boots. (Especially if you’re interviewing for a job with Peta.)
  • Your lucky pair of pants. They may be lucky, but the hole in the crotch isn’t doing you any favors.
  • Your eye patch. Yes, it makes you look dangerous and cool, but don’t.
  • Your Omar Moreno wig. Yes, it’s hysterical, but don’t.
omar moreno hair

It’s hysterical, but don’t.

Things not to do on a job interview:

  • Turn every innocuous statement into a double entendre by responding with the phrase: that’s what she said.
  • Bring in Leonard, your pet lizard, because you think the interviewer might enjoy seeing how a lizard can devour an entire rat.
  • Bring in Wilbur, your pet wombat, because you think the interviewer might be fascinated by how much a wombat can crap.
  • Go on a tirade about your previous boss, using phrases such as, weasel-faced penis, rat-fink, or tiny brained flea.
  • Punctuate the tirade by saying, “of course, I was stealing from the company to finance my crystal meth habit.”
  • Nod toward a picture of your interviewer’s wife, give him a knowing wink and say, “sweet.”
  • Don’t lean into your interviewer, carefully study his face, and then say, “a good plastic surgeon could fix that.”
  • Don’t try to show your interviewer how clever you are by guessing her age and weight.
  • Don’t ask your interviewer if he’s prematurely gray, or just dirt-old.
  • Don’t recommend a good wrinkle cream.
  • Under no circumstance should you ask your interviewer to “smell this.”
  • Don’t do anything the voices in your head tell you to do; they don’t have your best interest in mind.
  • Don’t introduce your interviewer to Phineas, your imaginary friend.
  • Don’t tell your interviewer that Phineas thinks he smells good.
  • Don’t demonstrate your conscientiousness by pointing out that you’re waiting until after the interview to get stoned.

 

Things not to put on your resume:

Under other interests:

  • Your plot to overthrow the government and replace it with a puppet regime. Definitely don’t mention the puppets are Bert and Ernie.
  • Discussing your alien abduction, and various alien probing methods.
  • Your collection of shrunken heads.
  • Scrapbooking.
  • Hunting the world’s most dangerous prey: humans.
  • Miming.

Note: hunting mimes and shrinking their heads is acceptable, and if you should happen to scrapbook about it…whatever.

Under accomplishments:

  • Your swift rise to power as president of the Justin Bieber fan club.
  • Finishing at the top of your taxidermy class. (Again, this mostly applies if your interviewing for a job with Peta.)
  • Your fluency in Klingon.
  • Having been a cast member of any television show with the words “the housewives of” in the title.

Final and key piece of advice:

  • Just don’t be yourself.
bad interview

Don’t do this.

Punch an Idiot in the Face Day

jack elam you sure ask a lot of questions
happy face idiot
wifes feet dont smell enough
cartoon scientists pictures
punch an idiot in the face day
bug eyed cartoon characters
job interview with gator boots
school counselors dumb
my idiot neighbor

Several random thoughts immediately leapt into my brain after this cluster of search terms appeared on my stats page.

Note: there’s a lot of room in my brain for random thoughts to leap, stretch out, or do an entire gymnastic floor routine; it’s pretty vacant up there.

Thoughts such as:

  • What kind of questions does Jack Elam ask, and why are there so many of them?
  • How badly do your wife’s feet have to smell for it to be enough?
  • How do you know my neighbor, and how do you know he has a happy face?
  • Would I look good in gator boots?
  • Wow, this blog certainly attracts some weirdos (but not you).
  • Punch and idiot in the face day? Is that a real thing?

After doing an extensive amount of research (Google) I discovered “punch an idiot in the face day” isn’t a real thing.

Bitter disappointment.

Then I had another thought: just because something isn’t a real thing, doesn’t mean it can’t be.

So after once again doing an extensive amount of research (Wikipedia) into the process of initiating a ballot measure in the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, I came to a conclusion: it’s a lot more work than I am willing to do.

Just a few of the things required:

  • A petition containing signatures equal to 10% of the last local general election vote for governor. (Governor? I thought Pennsylvania had a potentate.)
  • These signatures must be real people and not characters from Warner Brothers cartoons.
  • If your real name happens to be Elmer Fudd, there is an enormous amount of extra paperwork involved.
  • If your real name happens to be Elmer Fudd, your parents are dicks.
  • None of the signatures can be from dead people; this is not Illinois.
  • Petitions must be submitted by the 13th Tuesday before the election. Petitions may be circulated for (at most) 7 weeks, and circulation may not begin before the 20th Tuesday prior to the election. Initiated measures may be submitted at primary, municipal, or general elections…and must be written in yaks blood.
  • You must understand the previous requirement and be able to cite it verbatim while juggling running chain saws.
  • Election officials must submit successful initiatives to voters at the next primary, general, or municipal election occurring not sooner than the 13th Tuesday after the initiative was filed.
  • The successful initiatives mentioned in the previous requirement, must be submitted in triplicate with the third set written entirely in Egyptian hieroglyphics.
  • Every fifth word of every document must be written in a silly font.
  • Pointing out to any official, that the previous two requirements contradict each other, will result in the immediate disqualification of your ballot initiative. You will also be slapped in the face and poked in the eyes Three Stooges style.
  • The Pennsylvania election code requires you to obtain the following items: holy water, a cross, a wooden stake and a clove of  garlic. (Sorry, that’s the Transylvania election code.)
  • You must be able to find Harrisburg on a map of Pennsylvania.
  • You must be able to find Pennsylvania on a map of the United States.
  • You must be able to find Pennsylvania Avenue on a Monopoly Board.
  • If you roll doubles three times in a row, you have to go to jail.
  • You must purchase a lot of maps and board games.
  • Petition circulators must attest to the validity of petition signatures in a notarized affidavit.
  • You have to know what an affidavit is.
  • In some instances, you may have to sacrifice a small animal under a full moon.
  • You must be able to say name of, Intercourse Pennsylvania, without giggling.
  • You absolutely must be able to deal with bureaucrats without flipping out and stabbing someone in the face with a bayonet.

See what I mean, and this is just the first page.

Then I had another thought (I’ve been on fire with thoughts lately) I need to think like a politician: I just need to convince a bunch of willing dupes to pursue my vision, let them do all the work, then take all the credit when the initiative passes.

Brilliant.

I will keep you updated.

jack elam at idiotprufs

“Hello, I’m Jack Elam, and every day is punch an idiot in the face day for me, idiot.”

 

 

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