idiotprufs

Illegal in 38 states–frowned upon in the rest.

Archive for the tag “idiocy”

Bursting With Pride in the Great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania

idiotprufs bigfoot

“I hope no one saw me.”

A resident of the great commonwealth of Pennsylvania has reported to police that his 1973 Winnebago motor home was vandalized by a Bigfoot. The windows and tail lights were broken out with what he described as a fusillade of rocks.

Note: isn’t fusillade a fun word to use?

In the police report the suspect was described as, “very large, brown in color, and walks somewhat hunched over.” The victim was unable to describe whether or not the attacker “was hairy” investigators added.

Evidently in an attempt to avoid discovery the ape-like creature began to hurl rocks at the Winnebago.

Note: avoiding discovery is only 8th or 9th on my list of reasons to hurl rocks at things.

In an odd coincidence, it seems the victim happens to be a Bigfoot hunter and has a Facebook group devoted to such.  His Facebook page offers some advice if you come face-to-face with a Sasquatch. Here are couple of gems, copied exactly as he wrote them:

Bigfoot tip #1: when being chased by a sasquatch run up hill if its a male .. they have an extended forehead so they have to stop offten to look up.

Note: I don’t know if the victim pronounces the T in often, but he obviously adds an extra F.

Bigfoot tip #2:  if its a female run down hill they have no bras so they got big ole lady boobs and when running downhill they flop about and they have to stop to plop them over their shoulders…..

Note: I hope that image is now seared into your brain.

Here in the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania we are simply bursting with pride.

rock as weapon

The preferred weapon of Bigfoot.

 

 

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A Permanent Cure For Athlete’s Foot (With a Few Slight Side Effects)

One test subject; look how freaking happy he is.
(image source: wpclipart.com)

I’ve finally done it.

I’ve developed a permanent and foolproof cure for athlete’s foot.

It’s brilliant in its concept, and elegant in its simplicity.

For the small cost of just $99.99, (with an unreasonably exorbitant shipping and handling cost, which I will inform of after you’ve made the purchase) I will send you my product.

The kit includes the following items:

  • A high quality hacksaw.
  • A tourniquet guaranteed to stop spurting blood.
  • A bottle of aspirin.
  • A finely crafted peg leg.

Note: For a small additional cost, I will send you the jumbo sized bottle of aspirin, you’re probably going to need it. If you should happen to have any morphine lying around the house, that would be good too.

Imagine all the ways that using my product can make your life better:

  • You’ll never again have to deal with the burning scourge of athlete’s foot.
  • You’ll never again slip on the ice and sprain your ankle. You might slip on the ice and break your neck, but you won’t sprain your ankle.
  • You’ll never again stub your toe on a piece of furniture as you stumble toward the bathroom in the middle of the night.
  • You’ll never again spend the night on the couch after yelling at your spouse/girlfriend/lodger for moving a piece of furniture.
  • You can’t “ruin” Thanksgiving by dropping a frozen turkey on your aunt’s foot (if she’s used my product).

Note: your aunt’s presence has already ruined Thanksgiving; she’s an ogre.

  • You can dress up as a pirate on Halloween.
  • Mahogany peg legs are super classy.

There are a few slight drawbacks in the use of my product; all of which, I will inform you of in tiny unreadable print that scrolls across the bottom of screen at light speed.

Some of these slight problems are:

  • Massive loss of blood can make you woozy.
  • Carpenter ants are tenacious.
  • So are termites.
  • Dry rot.
  • Anal sores. (I have no idea why this happens-it just does.)
  • Beavers might steal your leg and incorporate it in the construction of a dam. (It happens more than you would think.)
  • Woodpeckers.
  • Mole holes in the backyard become especially hazardous.
  • You can’t drop a frozen turkey on your aunt’s foot. Secretly, you really did enjoy that; she’s an ogre.
  • It cuts the exorbitant cost of sock purchases in half.
  • Christian Bale will come to your home and hurl insults at you; he’s kind of a dick.
  • Your golf game may suffer a bit. And groundskeepers tend to get really pissy about the imprints that a peg leg leaves on the putting green.
  • Splinters.
  • The snide, hey Yellowbeard where’s your parrot, remarks from your coworkers.
  • Truthfully: I have very little concern for the efficacy of this product or your actual well-being.

All I need now is approval from the FDA. Unfortunately this has been far more difficult than I had anticipated. The people at the FDA are really uptight and condescending, and they tend to throw around words like irresponsible and unthinkable, a great deal more than is necessary.

It’s been a long process, but according to one source from the FDA, all I’m waiting on now is a cold day in Hell.

My product would result in another happy customer, and a tasty appetizer.
(image source: wpclipart.com)

I have also been working on a permanent cure for jock itch. Those results haven’t been quite as promising.

(image source: wpclipart.com)

The Big Family Picnic: The Aftermath

idiotprufs nerds

A lovely family having a picnic–this is not your family.

The big family picnic has hit your community like a tsunami and is now slowly receding back into the ocean.

Your local emergency room has been taken off high alert and much of their staff has been given a well deserved vacation.

Once again your family has overtaxed their staff, frayed their nerves, and extinguished their stock of gauze, sutures and eye patches.

They’ve treated various members of your family for the following injuries, ailments, and assorted issues:

  • Contusions.
  • Abrasions.
  • Cuts.
  • Lacerations.
  • Puncture wounds.
  • Broken bones.
  • Bone bruises.
  • Minor burns.
  • Severe burns.
  • Indian burns–you have an uncle who’s a jackass. (Actually you have several.)
  • Food poisoning.
  • Alcohol poisoning.
  • Lead poisoning.
  • Radiation poisoning.
  • Smoke inhalation.
  • Bite wounds–some animal, some human, some unidentifiable, and one that appears to be from a Bigfoot.
  • Stab wounds.
  • Gunshot wounds.
  • Crossbow wounds.
  • Ax wounds.
  • One particularly gruesome wound seemingly caused by medieval mace.
  • Asphyxiation in one individual who appears to have been strangled with a garter snake.
  • One garter snake bite.
  • Several cases of acute mental distress.
  • One case of a crippling fear of barbecue implements.
  • One barbeque implement lodged in a bodily orifice it has no business being anywhere near.
  • Dysentery.
  • Scurvy.
  • The plague.
  • Acute jock itch. (Don’t ask.)

The source of many of the problems was your uncle and his trunk full of games/weapons:

  • Horse shoes.
  • Horse whips.
  • Croquet mallets.
  • Croquet balls.
  • The little hoops you knock the croquet ball through that can be used to puncture human skin.
  • Lawn darts–your family is the reason lawn darts were made illegal in the State of New York and why a similar measure concerning bocce balls is currently making it’s way through state legislation.
  • Bocce balls.
  • Softballs.
  • Softball bats.
  • Vampire bats.
  • Dueling pistols.
  • Unexploded ordinance.
  • A board with a nail through it–this has the dual purpose of breaking open pinatas and killing barn rats.
  • A big stick with a jagged point that your uncle refers to as his eye-poking stick.

Once again your aunt has brought a cauldron of potato salad with way too much eye-of-newt in it. It results in stomach cramps, vomiting, and explosive diarrhea. Also, your cousin grows a tail.

Your aunt claims she had nothing to do with the locust swarm, but it seems like a bit of a coincidence that it happens every year.

Another aunt accosts you because you told her daughter that if she ate a dragonfly she would turn into a dragon.

Note: Have you ever eaten a dragonfly? You don’t know this isn’t true.

Your uncle–the volunteer firefighter–has inadvertently set fire to himself, a pavilion, and an old-growth forest. Unfortunately your uncle was only one still standing at the end of the day.

As the big family picnic passes and dissolves into repressed memories and a series of panic filled nightmares, your only hope is that all the injuries–apart from some of the more radical skin grafts–heal before the next big family picnic.

Your family seems horrible.

I’m just saying.

locust

Doesn’t every family’s picnics involve a swarm of locusts?

Stingrays and Vinny from Yonkers

Don’t let the happy face fool you; this is a vicious monster.

Do you remember as a child, adults would bandy about that old saw that a bee would only sting if you provoked? Do you also remember the dissemination of that bit of information generally came moments after being stung by a bee?

I recall an instance in my childhood, sitting in my backyard, quietly playing in a manner that could be readily described as angelic, when a bee decided it had become sufficiently provoked. My youthful playtime came to an abrupt halt with the introduction of searing pain to the side of head.

I went in search of sympathy, only to find an accusatory tone. Unfortunately two of my aunts were visiting.

“What did you do to it?” The first asked in her typically snide voice.

“What did I do to it?” She was obviously confused by the sequence of events.

“You must have provoked it,” the other chimed in, with her less snide, but decidedly more mannish voice.

Note: my aunts’ inability to recognize a child playing in a manner that could be readily described as angelic, likely stems from their own entirely unangelic nature…they’re really bitchy.

Informed by this experience, I watched in amusement as a tour guide on a travel show condescendingly told Vinny from Yonkers, “don’t be alarmed by that stingray brushing against your leg, they only attack when they’re angry or provoked.”

Vinny from Yonkers response was to act alarmed. He then gave the tour guide a look that generally precedes a punch in the face.

Any animal in which the word “sting” is prominent in its name, is probably an animal of which to be wary. It is generally wise to approach anything with the ability to sting, with caution.

Things that sting:

  • Bees.
  • Wasps.
  • Hornets.
  • Platypuses (yes they sting; watch the Discovery Channel sometime).
  • Stinging nettles.
  • Graig Nettles, former gold glove third basemen of the New York Yankees, and his rapier wit.
  • Scorpions.
  • That vicious rejection from the cute girl you asked out. Seriously, she didn’t have to say that thing about your face.
  • Jellyfish.
  • Yellow jackets the type of insect.
  • Buzz the yellow jacket mascot of Georgia Tech. He didn’t have to say that thing about your face either.
  • That slap you received after making an ill-advised comment about your aunt’s mannish voice.
  • Gordon Sumner (Sorry, this is from the “things called sting” list).
  • Stingrays.

Also, how would you go about determining the mental state of a stingray? I’ve never seen one that appeared happy-go-lucky.

It’s probably hard being a big flat fish living on the bottom of the ocean, always afraid that some fat tourist named Vinny will step on your back.

Stingrays have their mouths and nostrils situated on their underbellies; that cannot be a pleasant way to exist.

And have you seen what stingrays look like? They’re all crazy ugly; stingray sex must be just awful.

A stingray’s sting can result in extreme pain, illness, the amputation of affected limbs, and in extreme cases, death.

Note: if you’re a condescending tour guide, they can also cause you to get punched in the face by a guy from Yonkers named Vinny.

Any animal that on a whim can cause my life to end, is by my way of thinking, a source of alarm.

Or is it possible that you could run into a stingray with a sense of humor; a stingray that finds it amusing to sting a condescending tour guide.

Either way, you should be careful before you smugly tell someone not to be alarmed. You could be dealing with a stingray with a sense of humor, or guy named Vinny without one.

stingray

My sex life is just atrocious.

Hiccup Gremlins and a Punch in the Face

man with hiccups idiotprufsExperts will tell you that hiccups are a myoclonus of the diaphragm, that results in an abrupt rush of air into the lungs. You get them when the vagus nerve, which runs from the brain to the abdomen, is irritated. They are most commonly the result of digestive disturbances.

Well that’s just crazy talk–everyone knows hiccups are caused by gremlins.

There are some who will tell you that gremlins don’t exist; people who think they’re so much smarter than you.

They think they’re smarter because they have years of medical training, or they’ve read books, or they’ve never been described as “bat crap crazy” by a certified mental health professional.

Some think they’re smarter because they’ve never been arrested for slapping a mime in the face, or for urinating on a police car.

But does that make them smarter than you?

It Probably does, but you still shouldn’t listen to them: can you really trust a person who’s never slapped a mime in the face?

But now you have hiccups–how do you get rid of them?

After doing an extensive amount of research I’ve unearthed several potential hiccup remedies.

  • Scaring someone: this will only result in a punch in the face.
  • Tickling: this will also lead to a punch in the face.
  • Punching someone in the face: while there are several perfectly sound reasons for punching someone in the face, curing hiccups is not one of them.
  • A spoonful of sugar: Mary Poppins is a liar–never take medical advice from a person who randomly breaks into song.
  • A spoonful of peanut butter: this will actually give you hiccups if you don’t have them. If you already have hiccups, and you eat a spoonful of peanut butter, your esophagus will explode.
  • Drinking a glass of water while standing on your head: this is something made up by your friends so they can take your picture and post it on Instagram.
  • Inhaling paprika: your friends are cruel liars.
  • Holding your breath: this will cause you to lose consciousness. You will wake up with a bump on your head, still burdened with the hiccups, and with a blurry view of your friends posting another picture on Instagram.
  • Putting your hand in warm water while your sleeping. (Sorry. This comes from an entirely different list. Your friends will definitely post the results of this on Instagram and a punch in the face will be forthcoming.)
  • Fifty small drinks of water without taking a breath: at sip 42–yes, at exactly sip 42–you will involuntarily take a breath and inhale the water, coughing and expelling the water from your nose.
  • Fifty small drinks of vodka without taking a breath: the same as above, but with the added aspect of vomiting.
  • Putting your fingers in your ears: you still have the hiccups, but at least you can’t hear your friends laughing.
  • Holding your tongue with your fingers: if you can’t trust Wikipedia, who can you trust?

This is the point: hiccups cannot be cured, they are caused by gremlins. You simply have to wait for the gremlins to tire, or get bored–it’s science.

 

Not this type of Gremlin.

This type of gremlin.

Is There a Klingon Word for Non Sequitur?

klingon

As promised in the previous post, the following is a conversation with Klingon speaking Ed.

His real name isn’t Ed. I’ve changed the name to protect the innocent. The innocent being myself; Ed’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

Me: So, what’s up with this whole speaking Klingon thing?

Ed: Isn’t it obvious why I speak Klingon?

Me: I dunno–have all the normal ways in which you repel women begun to fail?

Ed: MOK TUK BAH.

Me: Nope, (wiping the spit from my face) you’re as repellent as ever.

Ed: Klingon is the language of a noble warrior race.

Me: Of course it is. It just seems to me that it would be more useful to learn a language you may encounter on this planet, such as French.

Ed: French is hardly the language of a noble warrior race.

Me: Point taken. What about Spanish, a lot of people speak that language?

Ed: No. Mexican food gives me gas.

Me: Does it? I’m curious, is there a Klingon word for non sequitur?

Ed: I don’t know what that is.

Me: It’s a Latin word that means: it does not follow.

Ed: Why didn’t you just say it does not follow?

Me: So you think it’s more useful to use an English word than a word in a language very few people speak?

Ed: People don’t screw you when you speak Klingon.

Me: Really, you speak Klingon and people screw with you constantly.

Ed: That’s not true.

Me: Well, I’m pretty much screwing with you right now.

Ed: I don’t think so.

Me: It feels like I am.

Ed: Klingons are hyper-aware of their surroundings.

Me: You do realize you’re not a Klingon?

Ed: Of course I do; I’m not an idiot.

Me: Well…

Ed: MOK TUK BAH.

I wiped the spit from my face as I watched him storm away in a huff. Real Klingons never storm away in a huff.

pope

The Pope knows what a non sequitur is.

Has This Ever Happened to You?

klingon driver

How many times has this happened to you?

You approach a stoplight as it’s about to turn red. Being a responsible driver, you slowly apply the breaks and come to a complete stop.

Suddenly you hear the screeching of tires behind you. You hear the sound of crunching metal as you feel the shock of your vehicle being struck from behind.

You stumble from your vehicle, slightly shaken, trying to rub the pain from back of your neck. As you survey the damage, you see the driver of the other vehicle stomping toward you from the corner of your eye. “Are you okay?” you ask as you turn to face him.

“Rah arg bah,” he bellows into your face. A blast of hot putrid breath startles you and sends you reeling. You try to steady yourself as you wipe the spit from you face. A sinking feeling comes over you with the realization that you’ve just been rear-ended by a Klingon.

“Do you have insurance?” you ask apprehensively, aware of the fact that Klingons are notoriously irresponsible drivers.

“Mok tuk bah,” he says as he jabs his crooked Klingon finger in the direction of the stoplight.

“Listen mister, that light was clearly about to turn red.” You call him mister hoping that he’s male; it’s so hard to tell with their weird wrinkled faces.

“MOK TUK BAH,” he screams at you with even more force.

“So that’s how it’s going to be,” you calmly reply, again wiping the spit from your face. This time his spit seems to contain chunks of something that was recently alive. You vomit in your mouth a little.

A lengthy argument ensues. Tensions flare. In the heat of the moment you say something unfortunate about the virtue of his Klingon mother being defiled by Captain Kirk. You soon discover–at ridiculous odds– this is the one phrase that translates directly from English to Klingon.

You find yourself staring at the end of a menacing Klingon weapon of war.

You swiftly make an attempt to apologize. You now discover the phrase “I’m sorry” in Klingon roughly translates to: stab me repeatedly and viciously.

As you lie on the pavement bleeding to death, you wonder if a better grasp of the Klingon language could have helped you avoid this grisly end.

So, how many times has this happened to you?

Allow me to answer for you: it hasn’t and it never will. Klingons are a fictitious race from a fictitious planet invented in the mind of Gene Roddenberry.

However, there is a Klingon language; a language that people endeavor to learn and speak.

Why would a person endeavor to learn and speak a language spoken by a nonexistent race?

I decided to ask a person who makes a habit of publicly speaking Klingon.

Next Post: My Conversation With Klingon Speaking Ed.

worf

Starfleet officer and notoriously irresponsible driver.

 

Don’t Swing a Dead Weasel if You’re Not Going to Use It

weasel as weapon

Weasel / Weapon

It is not a coincidence that the English language has not popularized the phrase ‘as useful as a dead weasel.’

In fact, if you’re on your way to do something and you think to yourself, I could really use a dead weasel for this, you’re probably about to do something that falls somewhere between foolish and felony. How many times on Cops has the arresting officer commented, “this would have merely been foolish, but you were swinging a dead weasel.”

If you’re on your way to do anything and you spot a dead weasel and think, I can use that, you’re headed down a dangerous path.

Which brings me to the point of this post.

A man in Hoquiam, Washington confronted the current boyfriend of an ex-girlfriend.

Generally a bad idea.

He confronted him swinging a dead weasel.

Always a bad idea.

“Why do you have a dead weasel?” the boyfriend asked him.

“It’s not a weasel, it’s a marten,” he replied.

(It’s a small distinction but an important one. Ex-boyfriends who display the proclivity to swing dead animals, tend to be very pedantic.)

He then punched the boyfriend in the nose and ran off. Begging the question: why in the world would you bother carrying a dead weasel to a confrontation if you’re not going to use it?

He was later tracked down and charged with assault and public stupidity.

When asked why he was carrying a dead weasel, he matter-of-factly replied, “what are you stupid, live weasels bite.”

In a weird twist, the authorities reported that it wasn’t a weasel or a marten, but a mink.

I don’t know if fur is murder, but it’s definitely felony assault.

The man was eventually acquitted. Evidently the prosecutors “failed to prove a link to the mink.” The prosecutors reportedly failed to do several other things that rhyme in a Seussian manner.

When asked if he had learned any valuable lessons, the man replied, “yeah, if you see something dead on the side of the road, leave it be.”

Perhaps if he had brought his girlfriend a mink when they were together, she wouldn’t have broken-up with him.

The mink had no comment.

weasle jail

I swear, I just wanted to make her a stoll.

 

Just the Eggs Ma’am

broken egg shellPurchasing two dozen eggs at the supermarket is something that ought to be quick and simple.

Unfortunately I had forgotten who I am–nothing can be quick and simple.

Cashier: Did you check the eggs to make sure they’re not broken?

Me: Yes I did.

Cashier: You have to check them individually.

Me: I already…(I look up from my wallet to find her individually checking every egg.)…did that.

Cashier: Men never check the eggs.

Me: I don’t necessarily think that’s true.

Cashier: Yes it is. (She moves on to the second dozen.) What are you going to do with these eggs?

Me: Well, I saw police car in front of the store and thought it would be cool to get my name in the paper.

Cashier: (stops checking the eggs and stares at me with suspicion.) I can’t sell these eggs to you if you’re going to throw them at a police car.

Me: That was just a joke.

Cashier: So what are going to do with them?

Me: Just normal egg things.

Cashier: Such as?

Me (irritated): I thought I’d put them all in a big glass and drink them raw like Rocky.

Cashier: Who’s Rocky.

Me: Rocky Balboa.

Cashier: I don’t know him.

Me: From the movie Rocky.

Cashier: Never saw it.

Me: Really, because it’s a pretty famous movie.

Cashier: Let me talk to my manager. (She disappears into the office.)

Me (Under my breath): I’ll bet your manager’s seen Rocky.

I now notice the growing line behind me and realize that I am  “that idiot” who screwed up the express lane.

Small child behind me in line: Guess what?

Me: What?

Small child: Eggs come from a chicken’s pooper.

Me: You have an amazing grasp of chicken physiology.

Small child: I know.

Me: It’s your turn to guess what.

Small Child: What?

Me: Chicken butt.

Small Child: (Laughs hysterically and starts repeating chicken butt over and over.)

Child’s Mother: (Glares at me.)

Me: What? You prefer pooper to chicken butt?

Several moments of awkward silence ensued (apart from the small child joyfully repeating the phrase chicken butt) followed by the manager emerging from the office to look me over. The manager studied me for a moment and returned to the office for several more awkward silent moments before the cashier returned.

Cashier: The manager says I can sell you the eggs.

Me: Fantastic.

I paid for the eggs, left the store, and egged the cashier’s car.

I didn’t really do that…don’t tell the police.

 

rocky drinking eggs

Just normal egg things.

 

French Fries and Lab Rats

lab rat idiotprufs cancerI was recently informed that French fries cause cancer in lab rats. I found this to be quite distressing; I don’t know how many times I’ve sat around all night with all of my lab rat friends and devoured buckets of French fries.

I was informed of this by a snarky little man. Unfortunately before I could glean any further information, our conversation was cut short by an unavoidable accident involving the side of his head and a plastic fork.

Note: in an unrelated matter, I have always felt there should be occasions when it’s legal to stab a person in the side of the head with a plastic fork. Unfortunately the law is far less progressive in its thinking than I am. Let’s get on this, Congress.

I decided to check this out for myself.

It turns out the weird little man was right…a weird little bit. A substance called acrylamide, which is found in fried foods, has been used to induce cancer in lab rats. Here’s the twist: to ingest the same amount of acrylamide that was injected into these lab rats, you would have to eat 346 large orders of McDonald’s fries everyday.

If you eat 346 large orders of large McDonald’s fries everyday, the list of medical and mental health professionals you deal with will be lengthy. You’re likely to hit coroner before you get to oncologist.

It also seems that these lab rats are bred to be susceptible to cancer. Something as slight as a simple change of diet can induce cancer in lab rats.

Note: In a similar study, scientists have discovered that lab rats that are whomped over the head with a brick, are more susceptible to concussions than lab rats that aren’t whomped over the head with a brick.

It has also been discovered every time a potato farmer in Idaho named Earl utters the word crap-shack, lab rats in Sweden immediately develop cancerous growths. The day he fell off his tractor and broke his tailbone, every lab rat in Sweden ballooned to the size of a cantaloupe.

After doing an extensive amount of research–making things up– I’ve come up with a list of things that cause cancer in lab rats.

  • sugar
  • caffeine
  • salt
  • nicotine
  • alcohol
  • radon
  • plutonium
  • radium
  • yellow cake uranium
  • yellow cake with frosting
  • strawberry shortcake
  • Strawberry Shortcake the doll
  • Guys and Dolls the musical
  • Cats the musical
  • cats
  • dogs
  • pink flamingos
  • pink the color
  • Pink the singer
  • Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon
  • Floyd the barber
  • barber shop quartets
  • Justin Bieber’s smug little face
  • face paint
  • clowns
  • mimes
  • any subset of clowns
  • Jersey Shore reruns
  • Pauly Shore reruns
  • Pauly Shore movies
  • Bob Costas’ hair
  • the word okie-dokie
  • potato farmers named Earl
  • everything

So the next time you think about telling me that French fries cause cancer in lab rats–pending action from Congress–you might just get stabbed in the side of the head with a plastic fork.

Correction: Justin Bieber’s smug little face does not cause cancer in lab rats; it kills them outright.

idiotprufs

“Hey, you can’t pin cancer on me. High cholesterol: maybe. Obesity: yes. But not cancer.”

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