idiotprufs

Illegal in 38 states–frowned upon in the rest.

Archive for the tag “satire”

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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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.

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.

 

Bieber Doll Beat Down

justin bieberLast year an off duty police officer in Denver was arrested for allegedly assaulting his girlfriend.

He claimed he was acting in self-defense.

He claimed it was because he was fending off a vicious attack.

He claimed his girlfriend was wielding a weapon.

What type of weapon would pose a threat so great to an off duty police officer, that it would necessitate assault against a woman?

  • A gun?
  • A knife?
  • A big stick?
  • A small stick with a sharp point?
  • A rolling-pin? (This applies mainly to Andy Capp’s wife.)
  • Mace, the medieval weapon?
  • Mace, the chemical irritant?
  • MACE, the Middleware Architecture Committee for Education? Sure, they seem like geeks, but they will rip you up.
  • A big rock?
  • A little rock if you chuck it really hard?
  • An arrow poked into your eye?
  • An arrow shot from a bow?
  • A bow tie? (Wasn’t there a Bond villain named Bowtie who used bow ties as a weapon? Well, there should have been.)
  • A Ukulele? (You wouldn’t be smirking right now if you’d ever been hit with a ukulele.)
  • A Justin Bieber doll?

That’s right, he claimed she was wielding a Justin Bieber doll.

I imagine the interview between the arresting officer and his off duty colleague, went something like this:

Cop: she attacked you with a what now?

Suspect: you heard me.

Cop: I really don’t think I did.

Suspect: she attacked me with a Justin Bieber doll.

Cop: is “Justin Bieber doll” her pet name for a machete?

Suspect: no. She attacked with an actual Justin Bieber doll.

Cop: is it possible she hit you with a lead pipe, and in a concussed state, you imagined it was a Justin Bieber doll?

Suspect: it wasn’t a lead pipe; it was a Justin Bieber doll.

Cop: was she was wearing brass knuckles at the time?

Suspect: no.

Cop: could it have been a brick with Justin Bieber’s face painted on it?

Suspect:  look, I have little Bieber face imprints all over my body. It’s horrifying–they’re just so smug.

Cop: was the Justin Bieber doll constructed of steel?

Suspect:  no. It was just a regular Justin Bieber doll.

Cop: I don’t want to write that down.

I don’t know whether he was lying or not, but in the entire universe of possible lies, is that the one you would tell? Here’s a short list of things you could be attacked with, that bear less of a threat to your manhood:

  • He-man doll.
  • G.I. Joe doll.
  • Any Star Wars action figure (Including Ewoks).
  • Raggedy Andy doll.
  • Raggedy Ann doll.
  • Ken doll.
  • Barbie doll.
  • Career Day Barbie.
  • Beach-wear Barbie.
  • My Little Pony.
  • Mr. Potato Head.
  • Mrs. Potato Head.
  • Cabbage Patch Kids.
  • Cabbage.
  • Small children throwing cabbage.
  • Tickle Me Elmo.
  • Justin Bieber himself.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to downplay how terrifying it must be to have Justin Bieber’s tiny face, repeating crashing into you. That’s an experience that haunts you forever… just ask Selena Gomez.

bieber doll

Not to be used as a weapon.

Race Results Overturned by a Hare

turtle wins

The result in dispute.

LAS VEGAS, NV–In a shocking turn of events, the Nevada Gaming Commission has vacated the results of the infamous Tortoise vs. Hare race. The gaming commission, following an extensive investigation, has determined the results to have been unduly influenced by outside manipulation.

“Our suspicions were first piqued by the fact that hares tend to be very quick animals, while tortoises tend to be extremely slow animals, almost painfully so. Have you ever found yourself stuck in line at the supermarket behind a tortoise? It’s just a nightmare,” the gaming commissioner said.

The commissioner also reported suspicious activity in wagering surrounding the race. “Basically just the idea that anyone would bet heavily on a tortoise to defeat a hare in any kind of race is highly suspicious.”

Adding to the questions swirling around the race was the Hare’s sudden rise from a hole in the ground in a field, to a lush garden in a penthouse.

“I’ve invested wisely,” the Hare told us, “if you think one rabbit’s foot is lucky, I’ve got four of them.”

When pressed about alleged connections to a notorious Las Vegas bookmaker, the Hare refused comment, only pausing to mutter, “I’ve no plans to become hasenpfeffer.”

The Tortoise maintains his victory to be hard fought and legitimate. “Slow and steady wins the race,” the Tortoise reminded us.

“We have heard the ‘slow and steady’ argument before,” the commissioner replied, “but our research indicates, being slow is not a desired trait when you’re trying to win a race of virtually any kind. In fact, it tends to be quite a detriment.”

The Tortoise has filed an appeal and plans to appear before gaming commission. They’re still waiting for him to arrive; he is very slow.

gambler

The Hare’s associate claims to be on the up and up.

 

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.”

There’s No Crying in Baseball–Just Obscene Gestures

Mr. met fired

Earlier this week, Mr. Met, the beloved mascot of the New York Mets found himself in hot water when he was caught on camera giving a fan the middle finger. A particularly amazing feat considering he has only four fingers on either hand.

It’s still unclear what provoked the outburst, but some insight was provided by Mr. Met’s long time friend, Otto the Orange.

“People think that because his head is a giant baseball with no discernable ears, they say anything they want without consequence,” Otto said, “but he’s a very sensitive soul and he really takes things to heart…plus he drinks heavily and he hates children.”

otto the orange

Otto the Orange, fellow mascot and bulbous headed freak.

The famous San Diego Chicken was contacted for comment. He said he wasn’t certain what had happened exactly, but he thought Mr. Met had really laid an egg with his actions. He then clucked hysterically, clutched his chest and fell over dead. He will be laid to rest later this week in an orange sauce with a side of green beans with miso and almonds.

the chicken

An Icon in the world of mascots…and so delicious.

“It’s difficult when you have a giant bulbous head that’s disproportionate to your body,” Charlie Brown of the Peanuts comic commented. “You tip over if the slightest breeze hits you, people laugh at you, but just wait for a rainstorm and they’re all gathering under your head for shelter.” Then he just sighed and said, “good grief.”

After being fired by the Mets organization Mr. Met’s future is uncertain.

“Well, I’m from New York City, I’m weird looking, and I’ve been publicly disgraced–I’ll probably just run for Congress.”

Mr. Met

Mr. Mets campaign poster–he’ll do well in NYC.

 

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