idiotpruf

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

Archive for the tag “poetry”

05 Feb 2025

What the Hell, Google?

The other day, I went to Google in search of a bit of information, as I am an inquisitive individual, and I began my request with the word what.

A perfectly normal word with which to begin a search for knowledge.

If I had typed in the question, what is a perfectly normal word to begin a search for knowledge, the word what could have readily been the answer.

However, as I typed in the word what and hit the space bar, Google, without hesitation, auto-filled the remainder of my question with: what mushrooms shouldn’t you eat out of cow poop?

What the hell, Google?

That’s not even remotely the question I was going to ask, and I’m a little offended that you presumed that was the direction I was heading.

In fact, Google, you popped that out so quickly it was as if you were just waiting for me to type the word what so you could shove that remark about the mushrooms in cow poop in my face.

If I had typed in the word who, would you have responded with: who likes to eat mushrooms out of cow poop, you maybe?

Maybe I was about to inquire about the unified field theory and how it allows all fundamental forces and elementary particles to be written in terms of a single type of field or about the influence of French Baroque architecture on the 17th century.

I wasn’t going to ask either of those things; I was going to ask if Dandelion Yellow crayons actually taste like dandelions, but you didn’t know that.

I was curious because the Banana Mania-colored crayons tasted absolutely nothing like bananas — I mean, they weren’t even close.

I wrote a strongly worded letter to the Crayola company regarding their false advertising.

It’s not even a question I need answered; you should almost never eat mushrooms out of cow poop. When I say almost never, I mean only do it when nobody is watching.

If Crayola had a color named Mushrooms in Cow Poop, I certainly wouldn’t eat that; I’ve had enough disappointment in my life.

What if someone had been trying to ask an important question such as, what shall I do? My husband is being attacked by a pack of vicious mink?

But you respond with your nonsense about mushrooms in cow poop. By the time that poor person has the answers they need, those mink will have chewed that man’s ears off and run away with them.

It’s what mink do; that’s why they used to make coats out of them.

So, from this point forward, you can keep your opinions to yourself. Let me ask the questions.

Questions like: what is the best way to get crayon out of your teeth? That’s a question that needs to be answered.

Posted in funny, Humor and tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment
18 Jan 2025
2 Comments

Dante’s Inferno Vacation

Jamestown, NY–When Virgil and Beatrice, an unassuming couple from a small city in Western New York, booked a vacation package through Dante’s Travel Agency, they were anticipating a needed injection of excitement into their life, a break from the humdrum.

“We purchased the Inferno package,” Beatrice explained, “it seemed like it would be fiery and exhilarating.”

The vacation they got was not what they anticipated.

“Our vacation started at a spot the brochure referred to as The First Circle of Hell; that’s a colorful name, I thought to myself; this ought to be fun.” Beatrice solemnly shook her head before adding, “I was mistaken.”

To the couple’s dismay, they discovered their vacation consisted of nine days of going from one circle of Hell to progressively worse circles of Hell.

“Tomorrow will be better, we kept telling ourselves, but it never was,” Beatrice told us. “The brochure promised interaction with famous people,” she continued with a scowl on her face, “but Judas, Hitler, and Ted Bundy are not the best dinner companions.”

“Hitler slurps his soup,” Virgil added.

Beatrice went on to describe how the ninth and final day of the vacation was the most distressing: “We had this big meet and greet with Satan himself,” she said. “He was loud and obnoxious, and he wreaked of burning flesh and sulfur…and he just wouldn’t shut up about how telemarketing was all his idea.”

“We were looking for tropical drinks with umbrellas and seaside barbeques,” Virgil added as he trembled, “not for lost human souls writhing in torment and agony by a lake of fire.” 

“This has all been very hard on Virgil,” Beatrice explained. “He’s very sensitive; he has the heart of a poet.” 

When asked what they planned to do now, Beatrice replied, “We’re just going to go home and get some sleep; it was impossible to get even a wink with all three of Cerberus’ heads barking incessantly every night.”

Posted in Humor, Jamestown, NY and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
26 Jul 2024
2 Comments

One Shovel a Myriad of Uses

Have you ever noticed how an object can have more than one use?
Take, for instance, a standard shovel. You could use a shovel to dig a hole; you could also use it to smash an ugly porcelain frog into a thousand tiny pieces.
Two completely different uses.
You could then use your shovel to bury the thousand tiny pieces of the porcelain frog in the hole that you have already dug, preferably before your neighbor discovers what you’ve done to his porcelain frog.
Let’s be honest: if your neighbor didn’t want his frog smashed into a thousand tiny pieces, he shouldn’t have bought a frog that was so ridiculously ugly and made of fragile material like porcelain; he might as well have put a sign next to it that read: please smash me, I’m ugly and fragile, and I don’t deserve to exist.
On second thought, there could be confusion if your neighbor happened to be standing next to the sign; that sign could be readily misinterpreted; your neighbor is also ugly and fragile.
Also, your neighbor’s personality is such that it wouldn’t take much of a nudge to push a person from the mere impulse of violence to a case of full-blown assault.You, of course, limited your aggression to the porcelain frog–for now.
As luck would have it when you dug the hole earlier in the day, you had no plans for it; you just dug the hole out of the sheer enjoyment of digging a hole. Then you saw the porcelain frog, and the whole thing just came together.
When your neighbor accuses you of smashing his porcelain frog and burying it in your backyard, you can tell him to go ahead and see for himself because you have the perfect hole-digging implement for such a task. Of course, you had the foresight to bury an active landmine next to the dispatched porcelain frog; you were on a hole-digging spree.
“Go dig it up,” you’ll urge him. “You have a 50/50 chance of not being blown to hell.” Then, you will laugh manically as he angrily trudges back into his house in an act of total defeat. Unless he’s going inside to call the authorities, the second of those two possibilities is probably more likely. Ugly, fragile people have the tendency to tattle.
You could use the shovel to bolt your door before the ATF arrives in preparation for the inevitable stand-off; you are getting a ton of positive use out of your shovel today. 

Do you see all the different uses there are for a common shovel?

Posted in funny, Humor and tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,
01 May 2024
2 Comments

Critical Thinking?

I recently heard you say that you are your own worst critic.

You clearly have no idea what people are saying behind your back. 

You seem not to grasp what people are saying to your face.

In fact, you are far more pleased with yourself than the facts or the opinions of others justify.

It may be that you don’t understand what the word repugnant means; when a person uses the word repugnant to describe you, it is not positive.

Nor is the term maximum-repugnaciousness.

Maximum-repugnaciousness is a made-up word. 

People are coining new derogatory phrases to describe you.

It’s not good when the breadth of the English language doesn’t contain enough pejorative terms to adequately describe your horribleness.

Let’s look at the definition of the word repugnant:

Adjective

distasteful, objectionable, or offensive:

a repugnant smell.

making opposition; averse.

opposed or contrary, as in nature or character.

When your name crops up in the same sentence as words like repugnant, distasteful, objectional, offensive, malodorous, repulsive, vomit-inducing, or crap-for-brains, you shouldn’t take it as an affirmation.

Regardless of how often you’ve been referred to as crap-for-brains, you never seem to take it as an insult.

Why do you think most people don’t describe Albert Einstein as that crap-for-brains patent clerk who eventually did something smart?

It would take a person with crap-for-brains to say something like that about Albert Einstein. 

Do you remember the time you said that about Albert Einstein?

It’s difficult to determine who your worst critic genuinely is, as your critics are widespread and vociferous in their criticism of you.

I know a person who met you once and claims it was the worst day of his life. He was a 100-year-old man who survived the Hindenburg.

A giant ball of burning hydrogen is more palatable than making your acquaintance.

I guess my point is that your critics are voluminous and well-deserved.

You’re probably reading this right now, chuckling to yourself, and thinking: I wonder who this is about.

You repugnant crap-for-brains.

Posted in funny, Humor and tagged , , , , , , ,
07 Oct 2018
28 Comments

How to Appreciate Poetry in a Right and Proper Way

bullwinkle
Bullwinkle, appreciating the hell out some poetry.

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

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

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

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

Comprehension

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

Symbolism

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

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

A morbid bunch–poets.

Emotional Response

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

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

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

Holy Crap! Right?

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

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

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

angie Dickinson
This is not Emily Dickinson.

Interesting Fact
The Baltimore Ravens, the NFL franchise in Baltimore, is named after Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven.
Note: if I had named the NFL franchise in Baltimore after an Edgar Allan Poe poem, I would have called them the Baltimore Conquering Worms. How much cooler would that have been?
A Moment of Braggadocio
I once wrote an essay in college, explicating The Tyger by William Blake, on which I received a grade of 99%. Take that doubters.
You Are Now Ready
You are now ready to pull out your own poetry sack, and start appreciating the hell out of poetry.
Final Note
I don’t want any whiny comments from people who love Haiku, write Haiku, read Haiku, or though the certifying of some bizarre clerical error at the hospital, have been named Haiku. It was just a joke…mostly.
Posted in funny, Humor, idiotprufs, inspirational and tagged , , , , , , , ,
25 May 2018
6 Comments

Vogon Poetry, Now Fourth Worst in the Universe

hitchhiker's guide

Do not let this Vogon read you his poetry.

Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is quite clear on the point that Vogon poetry is the third worst in the universe:

“Vogon poetry is of course, the third worst in the universe. The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their poet master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem “Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in My Armpit One Midsummer Morning” four of his audience died of internal haemorrhaging and the president of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off. Grunthos was reported to have been “disappointed” by the poem’s reception, and was about to embark on a reading of his 12-book epic entitled “My Favourite Bathtime Gurgles” when his own major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save humanity, leapt straight up through his neck and throttled his brain. The very worst poetry of all perished along with its creator, Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings (Paul Neil Milne Johnstone) of Redbridge, in the destruction of the planet Earth. Vogon poetry is mild by comparison.”

It is my endeavor to make it the fourth worst poetry in the universe:

There happened a witch who lived on a hill,

of diminutive size, but enormously shrill.

Unpleasing her countenance: all icky and warts,

when wickedly she cackles, how it twists and contorts. 

Her stench so loathsome like eggs and arm pit,

one whiff and you vomit in your mouth just a bit.

Small animals would flee, never again to be seen.

At least they weren’t trampled, as they well could have been.

Her sisters she’d gather, all cellulite and hate.

They would cackle and hiss and brag of the children they ate.

And eat they did much in their murky morass,

they had thick chunky thighs, like a hippo’s fat ass.

“We will taunt, we will curse, as well we see fit,

with toil and trouble and all that Shakespearean shit.”

Their husbands did cower in a deep and dank well,

for their wives weren’t just ugly, they’re mean as hell.

But for these poor ladies, all their efforts did fail.

In the end it’s the hero who will always prevail.

Now the creatures just hide in a dark and dank place,

chugging Coors Light and stuffing their face.

Does this tale have a moral, I don’t know it just might,

but probably not: I’m not very bright.

And now Vogon poetry is the fourth worst in the universe. Thank you.

Have a happy Towel Day and please:towwel day

Posted in funny, Humor, inspirational and tagged , , , , , , , , , ,
03 May 2018
25 Comments

Denouement–it’s Fun to Say

poe

Edgar Allan Poe: novelist, short story writer, and poet…something is missing.

In a previous post I stressed the importance of reading.

But it’s not just that you read; what you read is of equal importance.

The novel: Novels are essentially piles and piles of words endlessly strung together. Novelists are concerned with things like setting, theme, plot resolution, and character growth. Do friends become enemies? Do enemies become friends? Are obstacles overcome?

Important questions need to be answered in novels.

  • Does Captain Ahab’s obsession with the white whale drag him under?
  • Does Edmund Dantes’ quest for revenge ruin his chance for happiness?
  • Does Jay Gatsby reunite with his long-lost love?
  • Does Sydney Carton seek redemption by going to the gallows for another?
  • Does Lucy ever let Charlie Brown kick the football?

Seriously, novels are just exhausting–I would avoid them.

Note: The word denouement is fun to say–it’s all Frenchy.

hallucination

Reading novels makes young children have disturbing hallucinations…it’s a fact.

The short story: Short stories are just novels for people with short attention spans. They are primarily written by lazy novelists who probably had a little too much to drink the night before, and couldn’t be bothered to write a proper novel.

Don’t waste your time with short stories.

Poetry: The key element of poetry you need to recognize is that if can even remotely understand it, it’s not proper poetry. When a poet writes a poem about a leaf being blown from a tree, falling to the ground, and being trampled underfoot. He’s not actually writing about a leaf being blown from a tree, falling to the ground, and being trampled underfoot.

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

It’s all so confusing and depressing. I once spent the better part of an afternoon curled up in the fetal position, sobbing uncontrollably after reading a collection Sylvia Plath poems. (Sylvia Plath was one depressing chick.)

For the sake of your mental health stay away from poetry.

Note: This does not apply to limericks. Limericks are short humorous poems with a strict meter and rhyme scheme. They tend to revolve around an odd man from a small island off the coast of Massachusetts.

Nantucket

Nantucket: evidently there was once a man from there.

The humor blog: Humor blogs are unsurpassed in pure entertainment value. They are practically happiness in written form.

Many humor bloggers are attractive people; the rest are stunningly attractive people. Humor bloggers are the best sort of people; the sort of people you want to praise continuously and occasionally bask in their reflected glow.

They have breath that is perpetually minty fresh, and they seldom sweat.

Humor blogs are read by highly intelligent people. They are read by people who are witty and charming. They are wholly unlike those dullards who read books of poetry.

Humor blogs enrich your life, and they give meaning to your otherwise drab existence.

Whenever a humor blog is read, somewhere a small child laughs.

Humor blogs are to be read, read again, memorized, and repeated aloud in public.

You have your mission–so get to it.

laughing kid

Congratulations, you just made a small child laugh.

 

Posted in funny, Humor, lists and tagged , , , , , , , , , ,
12 May 2017
11 Comments

Happy National Limerick Day

limerick

Nantucket: I hear there was once a man from there.

Today is the day we celebrate the limerick, that popular form of poetry with five lines, a predominantly anapestic meter, and a strict (AABBA) rhyme scheme.

Note: I had no idea that ABBA also did limericks! Man, they were some talented Swedes!

The limerick is a fun and whimsical form of poetry that tends to revolve around an odd man with an unusual ability who is from a small island off the coast of Massachusetts.

Within the family of poetry, the limerick is that fun uncle who tends to drink too much at family get-togethers, but whom everybody loves to be around. (Unlike his dull-witted and boring brother the Haiku–Haiku is just so full of himself.)

Note: in my family that uncle gets drunk, crashes his car into a bus full of orphans then pees on the responding police car. Everybody hates him.

Since today is also International Nurse Day and Nutty Fudge Day, I thought I’d write a limerick about Nurses and Nutty Fudge, but every attempt came out so filthy.

So instead I wrote this:

This blog attempts humor without rhyme,

and at that it fails most all of the time.

So I ran and I hid

for offend some I did,

punched in the face I was by an mime.

And now you know why this blog doesn’t do poetry.

Final note: for all those people who live in Limerick, Pennsylvania: this day is not about you.

limerick pa

Limerick, Pennsylvania: there was once man from there also, but nobody cares.

Posted in funny, Humor and tagged , , , , , , ,

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