idiotprufs

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

Archive for the tag “idiocy”

A New Hope

As the college football season progresses, I am filled with a new sense of hope and anticipation. I find that I can barely contain the my excitement.

This is my year; I can feel it.

For so many years my dream has alluded me. So many times, it has remained just beyond my grasp.

How many times can they deny me?

How long will injustice be allowed to prevail?

At what point will the Downtown Athletic Club acknowledge my achievements?

When will the Heisman trophy be mine?

As depicted by the trophy, I am still receiving the stiff arm.

In previous posts I have delved into great detail about my desire to win the Heisman Trophy.

Granted, I may not strictly meet the qualifications to win a Heisman Trophy: The Heisman Trophy is awarded to the outstanding college football player whose performance best exhibits the pursuit of excellence with integrity.

I don’t meet the definition of a student athlete in its purest form.

I don’t play college football at any level. I have never played college football at any level. I’ve never even played Madden.

Nor am I currently enrolled at any university, college or trade school. (I do constantly receive emails from Triangle Tech.)

And I will admit, I misspelled the word Heisman the first several times I typed it. 

But this begs the question: when did the universities of our nation become so rigid?

I am brimming with excellence and integrity.

I’ve never been accused of double homicide. 1968 Heisman Trophy winner O. J. Simpson, I’m looking at you. Do you think the Heisman committee is proud to have that name on they’re list?

They gave Reggie Bush a Heisman Trophy (2005) and then snatched it away a few years later. Where’s that Heisman Trophy now? I’ll take that one. Evidently enticing a student athlete to your school by giving his mother a brand new home with a giant pile of cash in the living room, is frowned upon.

Tom Harmon was awarded the Heisman Trophy in 1940. He is considered to be one of the greatest football players in the University of Michigan’s history. He was also a war hero, having been awarded the Silver Star and Purple Heart, after his fighter plane was shot down over Japanese occupied China. He went on to have a long and successful career as an actor and broadcaster. He is also the father of collegiate football star and popular actor Mark Harmon. Tom Harmon was a great man who lived an extraordinary life.

However, his grandchildren went on to form the musical group Nelson, that has to count against him.

In 1984 Doug Flutie was given the Heisman Trophy. I’m sure he deserved the award; it’s just that he’s freakin’ tiny.

But this year is different. There something in the air this year: Covid 19. Trevor Lawrence was the front runner this year until Covid sidelined him for a couple of weeks. 

It seems a pandemic was all I needed. As this thing spreads my chances just get better and better.

I’d ask you to wish me luck, but this year, I don’t think I’ll be needing it.

Update: in regards to my letter writing campaign to persuade the NHL to put my name on Lord Stanley’s Cup: they still won’t do it.

Lord Stanley
Look at all the names on that thing, what’s one more?

Ballot Initiative: 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.”

 

 

Lost and Found?

 

On a recent trip to the supermarket a remarkable, odds defying thing occurred. A thing so against the odds of probability, I would not hesitate to use the term incalculable to describe it.

What was this thing? Was I abducted by aliens? Did I encounter Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster? Did I win the lottery as I was being struck by lightning?

Nothing that likely happened.

I was able to select my groceries without impediment. I was able to find a checkout lane astoundingly vacant of other shoppers. And most crucially, I was able to complete a successful transaction without incident.

None of the following things happened:

  • The cash register malfunctioned.
  • The cash register malfunctioned then burst into flames.
  • The cashier burst into flames.
  • A price check for an item that mysteriously seems to have never had a price.
  • A price check for an item the store claims they don’t even sell. (That really happened!)
  • A twenty minute argument between the customer ahead of me and the cashier over the validity of a ten cent coupon for instant vanilla pudding.
  • Further complications when it’s discovered the coupon is from the nation of Sikkim.
  • A twenty minute argument over what year the nation of Sikkim ceased to exist and to what extent that might have an effect upon the validity of the coupon in question.

But none of those things happened. Upon returning home, I was putting away my groceries and reflecting upon the ease of my trip to the supermarket. I contemplated the possibility of this day marking a turning point for me and my endeavors in commerce. Then I had a stark realization: I’m missing something; the cashier didn’t give me one of my bags.

Of course.

I returned to the store. I returned to check out lane where I had been cashed out. I returned to the cashier who had cashed me out.

I explained to the cashier that I had not received one of my bags. She looked at me and loudly exclaimed: “I have never seen you before in my life!”

Of course.

The level of certitude with which she made this claim was astounding. If I had asked her if she had met the ghost of Elvis on the surface of Mars, she couldn’t have been more certain of a thing not happening.

I pulled the receipt from my pocket.

“Is your name Veronica?” I asked her.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Is this cash register number six?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said again with slight unease.

“Then I would say you saw me not more than fifteen minutes ago,” I told her.

“Oh yeah,” she shouted as if in a moment of great discovery. It was a reaction comparable to Archimedes famous bath when he hit upon the principle of buoyancy and ran through the streets naked and shouting “eureka”.

Note: In Greek, eureka means: hey everybody, check out my penis.

She directed me to customer service (I sneer derisively at the term “customer service”) where my missing bag was said to be.

At customer service I was told, “the bag sat here so long, we put it back on the shelf.”

“It’s only been fifteen ####ing minutes,” I said, in complete control of me faculties. Then I burned the store to the ground.

I eventually got my groceries back and I didn’t burn the store to the ground…yet.

“I shouldn’t have made that crack about what bears do in the woods.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Postitive Take on Social Distancing

masked killer

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

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

Of course you are correct.

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

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

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

I’m just trying to keep it positive.

stalinist Russia

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

 

Nutella or Montague: What’s in a Name?

nutella

A delicious snack, but a terrible name for a French child.

According to Ole Bill Shakespeare what you call a thing doesn’t alter its nature; “that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” and all that.

Note: not to give anything away, but regardless of the lovely sentiment, things didn’t end well for Juliet.

It seems a court in Northern France disagrees with the Bard of Avon, and has taken a tough stance toward families who give their children odd names.

When one couple in Valenciennes tried to call their child Nutella, the shocked registrar immediately informed the local prosecutor, who took the case to court in the northern city. (But not before first making himself a quick snack, Nutella really is delicious.)

The judge argued that giving the child the name of a chocolate spread was against the girl’s interests as it might lead to mockery and unpleasant remarks. “Children can be horribly cruel to other children who happen to have odd names,” the Honorable Peanut Butter N. Jelly told the court as he wiped a tear of remembrance from his eye. “Besides, Nutella is clearly a boys name.”

The parents did not turn up at the hearing in November, and in their absence the judge ruled that the girl’s name should be shortened from Nutella to Ella. Her full name is now a much more respectable Ella Phant Butt. “Let’s see school children just try to make fun of that,” the court said.

The same court in Valenciennes made similar arguments in January this year before overturning the decision of another couple to name their child Fraise, the French word for strawberry.

The judge said that in particular the girl might face derision from people using the uncouth expression “ramène ta fraise” – a slang saying that translates as “get your ass over here.”

The parents opted instead for Fraisine, an elegant name popular in the 19th century which roughly translates as “get your non-strawberry ass over here.”

“French parents can choose whatever name they want for their offspring,” a registrar said, “but we will occasionally seek to ban or change a moniker that might be deemed against the child’s interests, or if we’re bored, or if someone’s just kind of being prick.”

“I don’t think it’s very funny,” said known prick Jacques Faucheux, father of court renamed Son-Of-Flaccid-Penis Faucheux.

A family was told in 2009 that they could not name their child after the French cartoon character Titeuf.

titeuf

French cartoon character Titeuf–forget the name, I want my children to have that hairstyle.

Note: I’ve never been more glad to live in the United States; I fully plan to name my first child Magilla Gorilla, and I don’t want the courts messing around with my daughter’s name.

Magilla

The name Magilla Gorilla just oozes class.

But the French courts don’t reserve this right for just human names. A dog owner in eastern France has been forced to change the names of his dogs, Itler and Iva, because they clearly “make people think of Adolf Hitler and Eva Braun.”

The unnamed owner argued that the names, Itler and Iva, had nothing to do with Adolph Hitler and Eva Braun. He grudgingly changed his dogs’ names to Iliso and Isio 4, but admitted he probably shouldn’t have shaved the swastikas into their fur.

And finally, in France you cannot call a pig Napoleon, due to a law aimed at preserving the image of the Emperor which remains on the statute books.

For shame, George Orwell. For shame.

Animal Farm

Napoleon from George Orwell’s Animal Farm. For shame, George Orwell.

 Addendum:

Jacques Faucheux has petitioned the court to have his son’s name (Son-Of-Flaccid-Penis Faucheux) changed. And he was a real prick about it.

The court granted his petition, and changed his son’s name to My-Fathers-A-Prick Faucheux.

Another petition is pending.

Welcome to the Neighborhood

There are just some things you just don’t want to hear come out of your new neighbor’s mouth.

  • Once we get the lab up and running, we can give you a great deal on crystal meth.
  • You’ll have to excuse my wife, she has a form of voluntary Tourette’s syndrome. Your home is lovely, and your wife doesn’t at all have the appearance of a fat slutty whore.
  • This seems like a nice quiet neighborhood where we can await the return of the mothership.
  • I love this big spacious backyard, it’s perfect for burying evidence.
  • I don’t see any cinder blocks in your front yard; where do you keep all of your old appliances?
  • I’m going to paint my entire house hot pink, with giant flaming skulls on the side; your property value is going to soar.
  • We really needed to find a bigger home; swamp rats really multiply fast.
  • We had to move leave our last neighborhood; all our neighbor’s homes kept inexplicably burning down. Billy, put down those matches and come meet the new neighbors.
  • We’re the Mitchells and this is our son Dennis. Sorry about that welt on your forehead; Dennis is a crack shot with that slingshot of his.
  • It’s okay, you can shake my hand, leprosy isn’t nearly as contagious as most people think.
  • This is our son Damien, some people think he’s the antichrist, but really, he’s just mischievous. But seriously, if you see him on a tricycle, back away.
  • The witness protection people put me here because I whacked like fifty people, and then I ratted out the family to stay off death row…I mean, my name is Ed and I’m an accountant.
  • Hi, my name’s Joe Exotic.
  • We’re members of the Society of Obese Sweaty Nudists, we’ll be holding our weekly meetings in the backyard.
  • Would you like to meet Yancey and Theodore, our pet howler monkeys.
  • Do you like garden gnomes as much as I like garden gnomes? I hope you do, because I have hundreds of them.
  • I’m Hannibal Lecter, I’d love to have you over for dinner.
  • We’re not actual neo-Nazis, they weren’t radical enough for us.
  • I hope your family loves to yodel as much as our family loves to yodel.
  • No. We didn’t shave off all of our body hair because the cult makes us, we just like the way it feels. Although, the testicle piercing was mandatory.
  • Pay no mind to the roosters, they only crow at sunrise.
  • Our pet pythons only escape once in a while…you don’t have small children do you?
  • You won’t have to worry about noisy lawnmowers with us, all the goats and sheep take care of our lawn.
  • We’re here to do a television show: The Desperate Housewives of Erie, Pennsylvania.

bad neighbor

“I’m really into topiary.”

Just a Few idiotprufs

Wile E. Coyote

Wile E. Coyote, idiotprufs legend.

Idiot: a dolt, a dullard, a mentally deficient person, the guy who drives down the road with his seatbelt hanging from the door making sparks on the road.

idiotpruf: Any lesson learned as the direct result of an overt act of idiocy, or the observation of an overt act of idiocy. An act that proves that you are in fact an idiot.

Example: If you don’t want to be mocked by other motorist; don’t drive down the road with your seatbelt hanging from the door making sparks on the road.

I’ve been compiling a list of idiotprufs based on my own acts of idiocy, from observing the acts of idiocy of others, and from stories I’ve been told.

Just a Few idiotprufs

  • Regardless of how far your garden hose sprays; you’re still too close to the bees nest.
  • Being asked,”and what did we learn today,” as bee stingers are being pulled from your face, is the epitome of adding insult to injury.
  • Don’t try to remove a hornet’s nest from your garage by burning it out; you will wind up with half a garage, and a hornet’s nest.
  • You never want to find out the quantifying measure for the phrase, mad as a hornet.
  • Firemen like to say snide things as they hose down the side of your garage.
  • Regardless of how sturdy an umbrella seems, it is not an adequate substitute for a parachute.
  • You can be lying in a crumpled mass in the dirt, broken bones (some of them relatively important) jutting through your skin, and the first thing an adult will think to say is “what in the world did you think would happen if you jumped off the roof?”
  • Never try to pound a nail into something above your head using the dull side of a hatchet; misusing a hatchet in this way might cause its head to pop off.
  • A hatchet head only has to fall a foot or two to cause a considerable amount of damage to a human skull.
  • Head wounds bleed a lot.
  • If you don’t want to be bitten by the big brown snake; don’t poke at it with a stick.
  • Snake bites bleed a lot.
  • The average household vacuum cleaner is not designed to pick up paperclips; attempting to do so may cause the average household vacuum cleaner to explode and catch on fire.
  • A burning vacuum cleaner may also ignite the carpet.
  • A burning carpet will set off every smoke alarm in the house.
  • Smoke alarms are loud.
  • Melting Play-Doh in a frying pan seems like a brilliant scientific experiment to a child.
  • That child’s mother: not so much.
  • Burning Play-Doh will set off a smoke alarm.
  • Smoke alarms are loud.
  • One errant sock in the laundry can turn an entire load of whites into a load of pinks.
  • “Hey, you know that pink sweatshirt you love so much?” is not a good way to tell your roommate that you’ve turned the laundry pink.
  • A healthy dose of bleach will turn anything white.
  • A healthy dose of bleach will also give you a pile of really white rags.
  • “Hey, you know that really white sweatshirt full of holes you love so much?” is not a good way to tell your roommate that you’ve used too much bleach on the laundry.
  • A car that has been run out of motor oil, is less of automobile, and more of giant metal traffic clogger.
  • Asking your girlfriend, whose car has been run out of motor oil, if she knows why it’s called a dipstick, is a really bad idea.
  • When your girlfriend asks, “how stupid do you think I am?” she is not looking for a quantifying answer.
  • The phrase “some day we’ll look back at this and laugh” doesn’t always apply.

Seriously, I literally have hundreds of these.

I’m finding that everybody has some, do you?

Addendum

The actual word idiot-proof is a misnomer; there is nothing a true idiot can’t screw-up when given the chance.

idiotpruf

Exactly.

Seriously, I Don’t Want to Dance

the office dancing

Do you really want David Brent as a role model?

It would seem not everyone got the message the first time this post was published. So here it is again–soak it in.

Why is this world polluted with people who are determined to make me dance? Loud, pushy, abrasive, overbearing, manipulative, overlords of what is or is not judged to be enjoyable. People who won’t take no for an answer. People who believe they have a better grasp of what’s in my brain than I do.

What I say: I don’t want to dance.

What they hear: I pretend I don’t want to dance, but secretly, it’s my deepest yearning. If it weren’t for debilitating fear and self-loathing, I’d be out on the dance floor right now, living the dream.

What I say: seriously, I don’t want to dance.

What they hear: if only there were some loud, pushy, abrasive, overbearing, manipulative, overlord of what is or is not judged to be enjoyable, to goad and badger me into doing what I’ve secretly always wanted to do anyway.

What I say: get away from me you drooling half-wit.

What they hear: grab my arm like a slack-jawed oaf, and physically drag me onto the dance floor.

I am not responsible for anything that happens from that moment forward. I am certain the person who coined the phrase, “justifiable homicide” was just some poor fellow who earnestly didn’t want to dance.

Note: I’m sure when his jaw is no longer wired shut, the person described in the scenario above, will apologize to me.

Let’s make one thing clear: just because you like a certain thing, it doesn’t follow that every other human should also like that thing. Loads of different people like loads of different things.

Jeffrey Dahmer quite enjoyed killing people, hacking them up, eating them, and stowing the leftovers in his freezer. I can write with a relative degree of certainty, most human beings wouldn’t much care for that.

I have never once thought to myself: killing people, hacking them up, eating them, and stowing the leftovers in my freezer, seems like a horrific and frankly evil thing to do…but Jeffrey Dahmer thought it was a lovely thing to do. Perhaps I’m looking at this all backwards. I’ve got plenty of room in my freezer, and there are several acquaintances in my sphere of influence I could readily live without (mostly the few who try to make me dance).

If only the local learning annex offered some course on beginner cannibalism. It’s all scrapbooking this and scrapbooking that, down at that place.

And I don’t need to be the center of attention to enjoy myself–in fact, it’s preferable not to be.

Just because I’m not standing on a chair, singing Love Shack at the top of my lungs, juggling shot-glasses, while I wildly thrust my hips into the air in a suggestive manner, doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying myself.

I don’t see life through the same self-absorbed prism as you.

You imagine I’m thinking: if only I could summon the courage, that would be me on that chair.

When I’m really thinking: if only I could summon the courage, I would kick that chair from under that jackasses feet. That would make me smile.

Also, don’t tell me to smile.

I smile plenty.

I smile when it’s appropriate.

I smile when I’m happy, when I’m with my friends, when something good happens.

I smile when a jackass falls from his chair and shot-glasses cascade across his face.

Note: sometimes I summon the courage.

People who go around smiling for no apparent reason are mental. I am not mental (fingers crossed).

crazy smile

This is how you appear to the rest of the world.

Being a naturally quiet person or an introvert is not a problem that needs to be fixed–just leave me be.

A Quick PSA for Loud-mouthed Pricks

loud mouth

“Act just like me–I’m cool.”

I have a quick message for all the fun loving people loud-mouthed idiots out there who think I should behave the way they do.

Stop It!

Just because you want dance on a table, juggling shot glasses, butchering the lyrics to Love Shack at the top of your lungs, as your testicles dangle from your pants, doesn’t mean that I also want to do that.

I don’t want to see that happening.

I don’t want to be within the proximity of that happening.

I don’t even want the knowledge of that ever occurring.

I assume as a male of the species you have testicles–I don’t need proof.

And I know what’s in my own mind.

If I say I don’t want to pound shots of tequila–I don’t want to pound shots of tequila. I know you think it’s not a party until you’ve vomited on someone’s shoes, but not everyone appreciates having to clean chunks out of their shoelaces.

And for the love of all that is good and merciful, stop trying to make me sing karaoke. We defeated Japan in World War II and they gave us karaoke–let’s just call it even.

Also, why do we excuse boorish behavior based on the fact that it’s habitual.

If a person acts like a jerk once or twice, he’s being a jerk. However, if a person has a pattern of acting like a jerk it’s simply sloughed off as a personality trait.

If Timothy acts like a giant prick today–then Timothy is being a giant prick.

But if Timothy acts like a giant prick on a daily basis, multiple times a day with a seemingly limitless reservoir of giant prickness–then that’s just Tim being Tim.

Wrong!

Timothy is a giant prick! Period!

It’s like saying: sure Theodore Bundy was kidnapper, rapist, necrophile who confessed to torturing and murdering over thirty young women, but that was just Ted being Ted.

And stop describing your giant prick behavior as: “just keeping it real.”

You’re really a giant loud-mouthed prick.

Thank you for allowing me to get that off me chest. I feel much better now.hush now

Physically Fit to be Tied–And a Bit Older

image credit: TMZ

(image credit: TMZ)

“Are you physically fit?” bellowed the man on the television screen as he jabbed a muscular finger in my direction.

“I don’t know,” I exclaimed, a bit startled by the suddenness of the question.

“Are you physically fit?” he persisted. This man was loud, muscle bound, and so deeply tanned that where ever he was, he must have been near the surface of the sun.

“You’re getting older,” he continued.

I am getting older, I thought, nearly every day.

“Do you even know what it means to be physically fit?”

I had to admit that I really didn’t.

“Of course you don’t know what it means, you’re a tiny pathetic weed of a man.”

I still didn’t know what it meant, was a little insulted, but wished that someone would tell me.

“Well I’m going to tell you.” He seemed to be reading my mind. “Physical fitness is the ability of the body to function with vigor and alertness, and with ample energy to engage in leisure activities. Endurance and cardio respiratory integrity are the overt signs of physical fitness.

Well this was absolutely no help at all.

My body functions with vigor and alertness, in as much as I seldom fall asleep when I don’t want to. I have endurance; I can run over one-hundred feet before the searing pain in my side renders me unconscious. As far as cardio respiratory integrity goes, my heart’s been beating for my entire life and hasn’t stopped yet, how much more integrity do you need?

Ample energy for leisure activities? Any activity that requires an amount of energy that can be characterized as ample, isn’t leisurely at all.

Here are a few activities that I don’t consider leisurely: running, jogging, speed walking, walking normally over long distances, walking slowly up an incline, lifting heavy objects, carrying heavy objects, lifting then subsequently carrying heavy objects, rock climbing. Rocks should never be climbed, if you’re trying to get somewhere and there is a rock in the way, go around it or blow it up. Why do think Alfred Nobel invented dynamite? They didn’t name that award after him because he wasted his time scrabbling up and down rocks.

It was at this point that the man on the screen began doing squat-thrusts. There has never been a time in the history of mankind that it was necessary to do a squat-thrust.

I decided to change the channel. Eventually I found a man reclined in a hammock, sipping a drink through a straw as waves washed a sun soaked beach in the background.

Now that’s a leisurely activity; one for which I have ample energy.

idiotpruf

Goofy has the idea.
(image source: wondersofdisney.com)

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