idiotprufs

Illegal in 38 states–frowned upon in the rest.

Archive for the tag “idiocy”

The Absolutely Indispensable Gift Guide–2016 Edition

bad gift

“You said you liked me au natural.”

All you want is to give the perfect gift for Christmas. The gift that will brighten a child’s face. The gift that shows thoughtfulness and caring. The type of gift that will result in moments to be cherished forever.

What a load of crap that is!

You are an insensitive oaf, but social convention dictates you must give gifts at Christmastime. What you really want, is to give gifts that won’t result in icy glares from your significant other, and more crucially, gifts that won’t result in a face-stabbing.

Granted, most of your big family get-togethers result in a face-stabbing, but there is no need to exacerbate an already tense atmosphere.

Note: that knife-wielding aunt of yours is stunningly spry for a lady with such chunky thighs.

Note to the note:  do not get that knife-wielding aunt of yours with the chunky thighs, a Thighmaster for Christmas–it will not be taken in the spirit with which it is intended.

Since I’m practically an expert at screwing things up badly (I mean, I am shockingly good at it) I am going to aid you in what gifts not to give.

Don’t give your goth cousin a bottle of skin bronzer. Her pale, nearly translucent skin, is her choice. It is not a result of her inability to tan naturally. Her flesh will not burst into flames if it’s exposed to real sunlight. It’s Holy water that makes her flesh burst into flames.

Don’t give your still single aunt a copy of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, because the only way she’ll find a man is if she constructs one herself. She will not find it as amusing as you do.

Don’t give your girlfriend, and I cannot stress this too strongly, a self-help book of any kind with the phrase “for dummies” in the title. Just don’t.

Don’t give the guy your cousin is dating this book, when what he really needs is a book about better decision making.

bitches

Don’t give your aunt a jar of anti-wrinkle cream and bottle of wart remover. She will not appreciate them…regardless of how desperately they’re needed.

Don’t give your uncle, who likes to hunt, that bottle of scent-masking spray he’s been asking for. The first thing he’ll do is try it out, and nobody wants to sip eggnog while they sit next to someone who wreaks of deer urine.

Note: Sure, your uncle generally wreaks of urine, but he splashes on that deer stuff like it’s cologne.

Don’t give that same uncle a book of vegetarian recipes; he’s just going to use its pages to start the fire he’s going to use to roast the woodchuck he hit with his pickup truck on the way to the Christmas party.

Don’t get your vegan cousin that Chia Pet. It looks entirely too much like bean sprouts growing out of tofu, eventually, he’s going to try to eat it. He’ll be rushed to the hospital, and your entire family will blame you.

Don’t get your aunt and uncle that home drug testing kit. While it may be applicable, your cousin carries a blade, and she will cut you.

Don’t get your wife a rat trap.

Note: Not a joke. One year my uncle bought my aunt a rat trap for Christmas. True story.

Don’t give anybody anything that has Justin Bieber on it. Why: because it has Justin Bieber on it. Enough said.

Don’t give any of your aunts or uncles this book:

problem child

Don’t avoid this gift because you fear recrimination. Avoid this gift because it’s just too late.

Don’t get your boss this mug; he may not have a sense of humor about it.

boss coffee cup

“Why does everybody laugh at me when I drink coffee?”

And finally, don’t give your grandmother that DVD of Deliverance; home movies can be so tedious.

You are now prepared for gift giving this Christmas season.

Addendum

If John Wayne Bobbitt had listened to me when I told him kitchen knives were a terrible Christmas gift for his wife Lorena, perhaps their marriage wouldn’t have become so severed. (Ha! I used the word severed.)

knife

A set of kitchen knives from Bed Bath and Beyond. It was the beyond that got John Wayne Bobbitt in trouble…she cut his penis off.

 

Reefer Madness and a Bit of Math

pot shop

Albert Einstein almost never hung out here.

Dutch researchers have done it again.

From the people who have already given us windmills, Holstein cows, gouda cheese, Heineken, orange carrots (seriously, orange carrots-look it up), and crucially: the idea that my date will pay for her own meal, comes another breakthrough.

Dutch researchers have determined that students who were banned from smoking marijuana in Dutch coffee shops were found to be more likely to pass exams, specifically math based ones.

The effect is “five times larger” for courses requiring quantitative thinking and maths-based tasks, the researchers wrote. They then crossed out that figure and changed it to “four times larger” before crossing out that figure and changing it to “ten times larger.” They then admitted that they were quite confused and unsure of the figures–they had been smoking a lot of pot that day. They then put on some Steely Dan records and sent out for munchies.

Note: in an unrelated study, Dutch researchers have discovered that people who repeatedly whomp themselves in the face with a wooden shoe, are more likely to suffer from headaches than people who don’t. Additionally, people who drink a case of Heineken every day are even more likely to whomp themselves in the face with a wooden shoe, but less likely to feel the effects. The Dutch are freakin’ awesome.

The Dutch, known for their thoroughness and incredible dyke building skills, have compiled a list of activities hindered by the use of marijuana:

  • Basic math skills.
  • Advanced math skills.
  • Common core math (actually, heavy drug use helps with this).
  • Operating heavy machinery.
  • Operating heavy machinery while trying to remember the lyrics of your favorite Grateful Dead song.
  • Operating heavy machinery while remembering that your favorite Grateful Dead song has no lyrics; it’s just 25 minutes of twangy guitar music.
  • Taking deep breaths without hacking up a lung.
  • Finding Lake Titicaca on a map.
  • Saying the name Lake Titicaca without giggling uncontrollably.
  • Not giggling uncontrollably.
  • The ability to have a conversation with a person without referring to him as “man” repeatedly.
  • The ability to enter a grocery store without purchasing a case of Twinkies.

Additionally, the Dutch have discovered in manufacturing companies where marijuana use is prevalent among its workers, production levels have seen a substantial drop. However, this doesn’t apply to companies that produce tie-dye clothing; drug use in those companies seems to cause an explosion of production…at least until everyone forgets what they’re supposed to be doing and they wander off.

Note: it is a little known fact that tie-dye was invented in 1928, when after eating a tainted breakfast burrito, Walt Disney vomited on a co-workers shirt, and really liked the way it looked. He then drew something about a mouse on a steamboat. The Dutch don’t invent everything.

Meanwhile in North Korea:

Thanksgiving with the Family 2016: Oh the Humanity

thankgiving hindenburg

The big family Thanksgiving almost went this well.

You’re back at the big family Thanksgiving for another year of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, yams, a giant heaping of accusation and guilt, and copious amounts of liquor to numb the senses.

They’re all there: grandma, grandpa, aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, Cousin It, fat hobbits, in-laws, out-laws, felons, those still awaiting trial, significant others, insignificant others, and the cast of that creepy movie The Others.

Your family is a bit like the Manson Family, but your leader isn’t in prison.

You’re in for a treat this year because your uncle (the volunteer firefighter) is going to cook the turkey in a deep fryer.

You question the wisdom of allowing your uncle (the volunteer firefighter) to operate a deep fryer as his presence seems to frequently precede catastrophe.

You decide to check on your uncle (the volunteer firefighter) to see how he is doing. Not out of concern, but out of the sheer the enjoyment you derive when bad things happen to him (your uncle–the volunteer firefighter).

Note: you may think I’m bringing up the point that your uncle (the volunteer firefighter) is a volunteer firefighter a little too often. But it’s not as often as he brings it up.

“How are things going with the turkey,” you ask.

“Things are going great–I’m volunteer firefighter you know,” he boasts.

“I’ve heard that once or twice,” you tell him. “It’s just that…when you leave a place, things tend to be on fire that weren’t on fire before you got there. You’re really more like a fireman from Fahrenheit 451 than a genuine firefighter.”

“If I understood that reference, would I be pissed off?” he asks you.

You explain that Fahrenheit 451 is a Ray Bradbury novel set in a dystopian future where firemen start fires rather than putting them out.

“If I knew what dystopian means, would I be pissed off?” he follows.

“I think you’d be fine with it,” you reply.

You decide you don’t actually want to be within the blast radius when events unfold as they inevitably will, so you go back inside.

You discover one of your cousins sitting on the couch moping because her boyfriend couldn’t be there. It seems coming within one-hundred feet of your family is a parole violation…for him and 12 different members of your family.

One of your uncles enters the house in full blood-stained camouflage hunting gear. You ask him if he had any luck in the woods today.

“What makes you think I’ve been hunting today,” he replies.

You walk away quickly.

One of your aunts comments on how well things seem to be going this year. “There hasn’t been one stabbing yet,” she exclaims. Then she shows everyone how well the bayonet wound in her face is healing.

One of your cousins is reminiscing about the year her father was carving the turkey and inadvertently cut his thumb off.

Note: he drinks.

Clarification: he drinks an enormous amount.

Luckily your uncle (the volunteer firefighter) was there to administer first-aid.

“The doctor said they could have reattached the thumb if it hadn’t caught on fire,” your cousin comments. “The doctor said he had never seen something packed in a bag of ice catch on fire before.”

You spend some time talking to the guy with the eye-patch and the hook for a hand. You have no idea how you’re related to him, but he’s the only one you actually get along with.

hook hand

You have no idea who this guy is, but you like him.

Your aunt arrives with a bunch of homemade pies, creating a horrible dilemma: you love sweet potato pie, but your aunt is a twisted wreck of hatred and soul-devouring evil…but you love sweet potato pie.

Your uncle (the one you refer to as Two-Faced Rat-Bastard) starts to make an announcement.

“I’ve discovered something disturbing about my wife,” he says.

“We’ve all heard about her vestigial penis,” you tell him.

“It’s not the penis thing,” he says, “it’s something much worse.”

But before he can make his announcement, another cousin bursts through the door to tell everyone your uncle (the volunteer firefighter) has accidentally set his face on fire.

“How did that happen?” your aunt yells.

“I don’t know,” your cousin responds. “It just burst into flames like the Hindenburg. One minute he was just standing there telling us about how he’s a volunteer firefighter, the next minute he’s burning like he’s full of hydrogen.”

“Did anyone put the fire out?” your aunt demands.

“We tried. He just yelled,don’t worry, I’ve got this, I’m a volunteer firefighter.’” Then he ran into the barn and shoved his face into a big pile of hay.

“And that put the fire out?”

“No,” your cousin answers. “Also, the barn’s on fire now.”

As luck would have it, as your uncle (the volunteer firefighter) was running from the barn after setting it on fire, he tripped and fell face first into a pile of cow manure, extinguishing the fire on his face.

“Amazing,” you comment, “normally the bullshit is coming out of his face, not going into it.”

Your family stares at you with a level of hatred that’s more intense than normal.

“Relax,” you tell them. “At least it wasn’t a stabbing.”

fire

Your uncle (the volunteer firefighter) was here.

 

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.

Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants

nerd idiotprufs ants

The Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ant. How would like to get a package of these?

In a recent post, But Seriously, I described my use of Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants when dealing with critics. When I receive criticism I feel is unwarranted, I drop a package in the mail to the criticizer. The package contains a colony of the ants in question. The label on the package reads: shake roughly before opening. (The only thing Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants hate more than critics is to be shaken roughly.)

Note: For criticism to reach the Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ant level, it has to really hurt my feelings; if I exhale a feeble whimper followed by a pained, why, upon receiving the criticism, you’re getting ants in the mail.

It would seem there some people out there who don’t believe that Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants are real. People who all suddenly seem to be experts on Amazonian wildlife and entomology. People who say they’ve done their own research and can’t find any evidence of the existence of such an insect.

Hey people, Google doesn’t know everything.

These people claim that no self-respecting taxonomist would give an ant such a silly name.

Things are often given weird or inappropriate names. Have you ever seen a person and immediately thought to yourself: that person’s parents misnamed him; his name should be Rat-Bastard Morgan instead of Piers.

Note: my deepest apologies to Piers Morgan and his family, that was entirely uncalled for, but I really like that joke.

They also say that ants don’t sting: they bite.

Nature provides us with many oddities and exceptions: mammals don’t lay eggs, but the duck-billed platypus does. Birds don’t swim under water, but penguins do. Humans don’t shed their skin like snakes, but Hugh Hefner does. The list goes on and on.

Note: no apologies for Hef–he’s a reptile.

Let’s say for the sake of argument, the name Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants, is in fact, a product of my fertile if not slightly warped mind.

Who’s to say such an insect doesn’t already exist. There have been over 400 hundred new species of plants and animals discovered in the Amazonian rain forest in recent years, including a monkey that purrs like a kitten and a vegetarian piranha.

Note: the vegetarian piranha was classified as Piersus Morganus, the monkey they called Ted.

Perhaps one of those 400 hundred discoveries is an insect whose sheer nature and attributes demand it be classified as a Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ant.

Just the other day I read an article about a researcher on the Amazon River who discovered a previously unknown water fowl. The water fowl was infested with a previously unknown type of tick. The tick bit the researcher and infected him a previously unknown and highly infectious disease.

The disease would have incubated within his body over a period of months and the researcher would have unwittingly unleashed a devastating epidemic upon the populace.

Half the population would have suffered from the following symptoms:

  • Nausea.
  • Dizziness.
  • A rash on their butts in the shape Mickey Rooney’s face.
  • A rash on their faces in the shape of Mickey Rooney’s butt.
  • Dry mouth.
  • Itchy scalp.
  • Dry itchy mouth and or scalp.
  • All cheese will taste like wire.
  • All other food will taste like cheese, but the nasty kind like Limburger.
  • Migraines.
  • Chipmunks will throw pine cones at their heads.
  • Migraines from being hit in the head with pine cones.
  • They would have become obsessed with Kayne West and Kim Kardashian, droning on endlessly about their babies and how beautiful and perfect their lives are.

The other half of the population would have become depressed and suicidal, mostly due to the fact that the first half of the population were droning on endlessly about Kanye West and Kim Kardashian, their babies and how beautiful and perfect their lives are.

Luckily the researcher was then bitten by a common poisonous snake and died straight away.

The point being: for all you critics out there doubtful of the existence of Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants, you might just receive a package in the mail containing a hive of Raging Bolivian Biting Wasps. Remember to shake it roughly.

Addendum:

I know there are some of you out there who are doubtful of the monkey that purrs like a kitten and the vegetarian piranha. Do you think I just make this stuff up?

nerd monkey idiotprufs

Ted, the monkey that purrs like a kitten.

 

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 a 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 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.

 

 

 

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.

The Experiment

image source: wpclipart.com

This is short screenplay written by Ian Wallace, based on Frankenstein’s Omelet.

 

Opening Credits: Dream Sequence.

Characters: Main Character. Male. Mid-twenties to mid-thirties. Dressed in old-fashioned, but not period clothing.

Editing: The opening sequence will consist of a dream sequence that foreshadows the goings on in the body of the film. It would be made up of several different shots  (as described below) spliced together in an abstracted narrative format. The order in which they are presented do not necessarily dictate their sequence.

  1. The main character running through the woods as if being chased. He stumbles but doesn’t fall, and periodically looks back over his shoulder.
  2. Shot of the man’s feet running through the forest debris.
  3. Mob: Rather than bringing more cast members into the film, we could abstract farm implements and torches progressing through the woods. This would maintain the universal monster feel of this opening.
  4. Lightning Streaking across the sky.
  5. Design a makeshift lab. This doesn’t have to be anything overly elaborate, but should at least have the quintessential bubbling beakers. Easy as food coloring and dry ice. There would need to be a workbench, and dissection tools.
  6. Man presses his back against a wooden door, with the classic mob push going on behind it. He looks panicked and winded.
  7. On the workbench is a tray about the size of a dinner plate, or just a dinner plate with a cloth over it. Upon closer inspection, it appears to rising and falling as if breathing. Or more like a pulse depending on the aesthetic.
  8. Slow dolly up to the kitchen refrigerator. Three shots from medium angle light for night. Use green tape around the edge of the door so the glow can be composited in and motion tracked.
  9. As he watches the covered item on the workbench, a shot of blood soaking through the cloth. Lightning flash.
  10. These scenes will be inter-cut with the man sleeping fitfully, as if having a nightmare.  Not over the top, but enough to get the point across. Camera angle and shot variety will create the tension leading up to the point where the man wakes up and it’s morning.

Scene two: Morning

Setting:

A bedroom with a big enough bed for two. He is alone, but the blankets on both sides are disheveled, implying that someone has been there. It’s morning and the room is relatively bright.

Action:

The man jerks awake from the nightmare he was having. He’s disoriented at first, but recovers and rubs his face.

Cut to the man walking into a brightly lit kitchen. He’s awake, but still a bit tired. A woman is busy at the stove. She’s wearing morning clothes and by her mannerisms, you can tell she’s been awake for awhile. At the middle of the space is a breakfast table setting. Burnt toast, coffee, and a large plate with a cloth over it.

He strolls over to the woman:

Man: “Good Morning” he says, still groggy: kisses her on the cheek.

Woman: “It’s about time you got up, sleepy head,” she says lightly.

Man: “Yeah. I was having the weirdest…” stops abruptly as he catches sight of the refrigerator from the dream. Just a normal fridge now. “…dream.” He finishes.

Woman: “You Okay?”

Man: Shakes his head as if to clear the image. “Yeah. I guess I’m just tired.”

Woman: “Awww… I’m sorry. But I have just what you need to feel better: some good old fashioned home cooking.”

Man: Sits down in front of the plate while rubbing his eyes, so that he hasn’t caught sight of the plate covered by the cloth. “Thanks babe,” he mumbles, “what are we having?”

Woman: “Well, it’s sitting right in front of you, silly. Take a look.”

Man: He opens his eyes, looks down and freezes. It looks just like the plate with the soaking blood from the dream. (cut to shot of cloth soaking through) He looks over his shoulder, obviously slightly rattled, then back at his plate.

Woman: “Well go on before it gets cold,” she says in a motherly way, standing by the table.

Man: Gingerly he pinches the cloth and pulls it away. A plume of steam rises up and he winces as if the smell was unpleasant. Before him sits the omelet in all its glory. A pool of liquid surrounds it on the plate. Strange marks, textures and folds in pale yellow and off white. What may be a mushroom slides down it. The man stares down at it. “It looks delicious (he feigns honesty) what is it?”

Woman: “What do you mean what is it?” (sounding slightly annoyed) “It’s a home style omelet.”

Man: (Hiding his bewilderment) “Well, of course it’s an omelet. It just doesn’t seem to be a conventional omelet, that’s all.”

Woman: “Well that’s the stoves fault isn’t it? It’s not level.” (sounding more frustrated)

Man: “Not level?” he replies. “Well yeah, that’ll do it.” (trying to sound confident) Cut to the man investigating the omelet. He lifts a fold of the body and more cloudy fluid trickles out. Under the fold is an 0ff-blue, bruise like patch. Maybe the look of coagulated blood underneath a membrane.

Woman: (Now looming behind the seated man) “Well? Are you going to try it, or just look at it all day?” (covering up aggravation with forced sweetness.)

Man: Looks up at her, makes a smile and laughs nervously. He turns back towards the plate. He cuts a portion from the side with his fork and holds it up, speared. More strange fluid leaks away from the limp morsel. The man grimaces, closes his eyes and shoves it in. At first it’s fine. A look of momentary relief crosses his face. He chews it like a rubber band. Then it hits him.

Scene three: Gastrological disaster.

This scene is a hallucinatory nightmare as the man struggles with the morsel.

  1. Footage of hydrogen peroxide being poured on red meat.
  2. Beads of sweat on his forehead.
  3. Eggs and omelet makings being smashed and mutilated.
  4. Close-up of man chewing. He looks up, red in the face, toward the woman with a facial expression of “why would you do this to me?” Some of the milky liquid runs out of the corner of his mouth.
  5. The omelet on the plate is starting to pump a foul black liquid that begins to fill the bottom of the plate.
  6. Unused shots of the mob scene. (pitch forks and torches.)
  7. Close-up of the man sweating and looking panicked.
  8. Woman dressed like lady Frankenstein or in some other nightmarish costume (think of the Ms. Shields/mother scene from A Christmas Story, where the two are dressed as a jester and a witch mocking Ralphie with, “You’ll shoot your eye out.” ) laughing maniacally

Man: He finally manages to swallow it. (close-up on his throat swallowing.)

  1. Egg falling on glass, seen from underneath, and bleeding black and green. (inject egg with food coloring and drop it from high enough that it spatters.)
  2. Fluid mixing and congealing. (jello and vegetable oil.)
  3. Stock footage of church burning or volcano erupting.
  4. Woman dressed as a devil with dramatic lighting. Perhaps several people dancing around the table dressed similarly.

The man finally gets it down. Tries to keep from vomiting. Horrible stomach noises can be heard. He looks sick. Back to reality.

Woman: “Well, what do you think?”

Man: (Still looking a little ill) “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever had anything like it before. Ever.”

Woman: “Great!” she says happily, totally oblivious. She turns to go about her day. “Eat up while I get dressed.”

Man: Looks around desperately for a way to dispose of the contents of the plate.  Looks down. The woman’s dog is staring up with hopeful, hungry eyes. The man pauses, looks over his shoulder, and puts the plate on the floor. The dog gobbles the omelet down, licking up the fluid drippings from the omelet, and walks off into the other room. With trembling hands, the man grips his coffee cup and drinks.

Woman: The bathroom door opens and the woman walks out dressed. She pauses. From the other room the man hears the woman scream.

Man: Looks up with wide open, panicked eyes.  “What’s wrong?”

Woman: “The (dog’s name) has vomited everywhere. It’s on my carpet. My freaking couch. It’s everywhere–I just stepped in it.”

Man: Still frozen until he hears the dog growling from underneath the table. The dog bites his leg. The shot is from above the table as you see the man gasping from the bite.

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