I felt it was time to re-post these beautiful and poignant words.
I wrote this during a period of deep personal healing…but mostly, I was drunk.
Bemidji, Minnesota–The authorities had to intervene when a dispute between two local residents radically escalated.
“Would you look at this,” exclaimed Philbert J. Weedly of Bemidji, Minnesota, as he motioned toward the Toyota Prius parked in his driveway, “it’s completely buried.”
At some point during the night, Mr. Weedly’s vehicle had become covered in a mountain of blue feces.
“I don’t see why he’s blaming me,” fellow Bemidji native Paul Bunyan replied, “if you ask me, that giant pile of blue crap could have come from any number of places–a lot of people don’t care for Weedly.”
“Are you kidding me?” Mr. Weedly said in exasperation.
Mr. Bunyan continued defending himself, “I really don’t think it’s fair to blame me every time someone’s car, their house, or their mouthy know-it-all wife, who deserved it, gets covered in a giant pile of blue crap.”
“Are you kidding me?” Mr. Weedly said again.
The dispute began when Mr. Bunyan challenged Mr. Weedly for the presidency of the local chapter of the Minnesota Sierra Club and defeated him in the chapter’s election.
“I just felt it was time for a new chapter in my life,” Mr. Bunyan explained.
“We all know what happened,” Mr. Weedly said. “He’s a legend of American folklore. He’s Minnesota’s favorite son. His footsteps created the 10,000 lakes. It’s all just a big popularity contest.”
“I know Paul Bunyan seems like a strange choice for the presidency of a Sierra Club chapter,” Milton Shipley, a member of the Sierra Club chapter, admitted, “I mean, he is literally known for chopping down trees. He’s just so freaking huge; how do you say no to him?”
“My wife was extremely vocal in her opposition of his candidacy,” another member, who wanted to remain anonymous, told us, “but then she was involved in a rather unfortunate incident involving Babe, Mr. Bunyan’s big blue ox. I don’t want to go into too much detail,” he said pausing for a moment, “Let’s just say she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I don’t know what he feeds that thing, but the stench was foul. It’s been six months, and my wife’s hair still attracts flies.”
“It s— on me,” his wife said tersely.
The authorities have issued warnings to both Mr. Weedly and Mr. Bunyan. They also asked Mr. Bunyan to try and control where his blue ox relieves itself, but they told him from a distance.
“Do you call this justice?” Mr. Weedly said in a final statement of resignation. “Are you kidding me?”
North East, Pennsylvania–The residents of the small village of North East, Pennsylvania received a dose of bad news upon discovering their sister city wasn’t what they believed it to be.
The village was ecstatic when it received a sister city request from Sydney, Australia. “We couldn’t believe our good fortune,” the mayor of North East said.
Upon traveling to Australia to accept the sister city request, officials from North East (the mayor and his life partner Bruce) discovered the request came not from the city of Sydney but from a guy named Sydney who lives in a shack at the bottom of a pit in the desert.
“The disappointment is bitter,” Bruce said of the development, “Sydney, Australia is a metropolis with renown architecture and a thriving art world; Sydney from Australia is a filthy foul-mouthed little man who lives in a pit and scratches his testicles far more than should be necessary.”
“I have genital chiggers,” Sydney explained, “they bite.”
The mayor and Bruce gave Sydney a case of the world-famous Welch’s grape jelly, produced right in North East from local concord grapes.
Sydney reciprocated with a half-full can of Foster’s beer that he poured back into the can from the dog bowl.
“Everything in Sydney’s shack is sticky,” the mayor commented, “absolutely everything.”
While Bruce has returned home from the disastrous trip, the mayor remains in Australia recovering from bites from a highly poisonous eastern brown snake and three types of poisonous spiders.
Sydney keeps poisonous spiders as pets; the snake was just bad luck.
“A kangaroo kicked me in the nuts,” Bruce said upon his return, “it was the best part of the trip.”
Erie, Pennsylvania–Officials from PennDOT have confirmed the explosions heard emanating from the Route 5 area of North East, Pennsylvania was, in fact, a road crew working on a stretch of the road between the towns of North East and Harborcreek.
The road crew was employing dynamite to blow a gaping hole in the road, remedying the fact that there wasn’t already a gaping hole in the road.
A PennDOT official had been traveling along Route 5 when he realized there was a stretch of road nearly 50 yards long without any potholes. “I was driving along when I realized the familiar rumbling and shaking from traversing Pennsylvania roadways had stopped for several seconds…it was very disconcerting.”
The stretch of roadway fell far below PennDOT standards, requiring at least 39% of any 100-foot stretch of Pennsylvania roadway to contain potholes, debris, drunken hobos, or strategically placed orange cones that guide motorists into a pond.
Upon discovering the problem, PennDOT moved with the efficiency and swiftness for which it is renowned and dispatched a road crew within a year and a half.
“Sure, we could have put small holes throughout that stretch of road, but that’s a lot of work,” the foreman of the road crew said. “We decided to go with one big hole in the middle.”
“Blowing **** up is fun,” one of the crew members, Ron, “eight fingers,” Smith commented.
The section of Route 5 in question is now almost entirely impassable, bringing it into accordance with PennDOT standards.
PennDOT suggests if you find yourself traveling along this stretch of road, take care to follow the detour signs and orange cones–they lead you into a pond.
I’ve decided to start the new year out on a positive note. I want to set the tone for the next twelve months as we begin this fresh trip around the sun. (Sorry flat Earthers.)
I believe I’ve come up with the perfect way to christen the year 2023: a plan to destroy my worst enemy.
You may think that’s not starting the year out on a positive note–it’s positive for me!
My plan is nearly perfect; all I need are four honey badgers, a bucket of semi-rotted boysenberries, five sheets of 60-grain sandpaper, an ostrich egg, one pack of double-sided tape, a small number of dung balls gathered by Egyptian dung beetles, yak vomit–copious amounts, a calligraphy pen with parchment, a bongo antelope, and two double cheeseburgers with bacon.
You may think this list is long and ridiculous, but the two double cheeseburgers with bacon have nothing to do with the plan to destroy my worst enemy–formulating a plan to destroy your worst enemy really works up an appetite.
I have run into one small hitch with my plan: it seems bongo antelopes are hard to come by; some nonsense about them being endangered.
I tried the Buffalo zoo, but they don’t even have a bongo antelope…why even have a zoo!
The Bronx zoo does have a bongo antelope, but they were very noncommittal about letting me rent it.
When Trish at the Bronx zoo answers the phone and says: how may I help you–those are just empty words; she doesn’t really want to help you.
It was suggested to me that I substitute the bongo antelope with a deer, which are everywhere where I live in Jamestown, New York. There was one literally taking a crap in my backyard the other day.
I want you to read the following sentences and decide for yourself which one is better.
See what I mean?
A major factor in any plan to destroy your worst enemy is the ability to tell and retell the story in the most humorous and humiliating way possible.
I’m going to keep working on this problem because I am a responsible and mentally stable person, regardless of what Trish at the Bronx zoo thinks.
I will keep you posted on my progress.
In what is being hailed as the technological breakthrough of the century, a group of Finnish scientists have created a new breed of radioactive reindeer.
The Finnish are often referred to as the technological juggernauts of the world.
“We are the technological juggernauts of the world,” one of the leading Finnish researchers, Johannes Korhonen, brashly stated at a recent press conference.
It seems the Finnish have developed a new breed of radioactive reindeer they claim will revolutionize the world.
The following is an interview with Dr. Korhonen.
Interviewer: Tell us, why radioactive reindeer?
Dr. Korhonen: Frankly, we just got sick of inducing cancer in lab rats, I mean, we’ve absolutely done that to death. So, we decided to move on to something bigger.
Interviewer: That’s a pretty big jump from lab rats to reindeer.
Dr. Korhonen: It is. At first, we tried it with badgers, but those things are freaking crazy. A bunch of them got loose, knocked over one of the researchers, chewed his ears off, and ran away with them.
Dr. Korhonen: Then they came back and taunted him.
Interviewer: That’s horrible.
Dr. Korhonen: Indeed. They’d already taken his ears–there was no need to say those horrible things about his mother.
Interviewer: The badgers can talk?
Dr. Korhonen: Of course not.
Interviewer: Then how did you know they were saying things about his mother?
Dr. Korhonen: It was in their smug body language.
Interviewer: Okay? I’m just curious, why do you consider this to be an advancement that will revolutionize the world?
Dr. Korhonen: Are you serious? We have practically developed a cure for not being radioactive.
Interviewer: Is not being radioactive a big problem?
Dr. Korhonen: Not anymore. Did you know that due to their glowing antlers, the incidents of reindeer being struck by motorists, have greatly decreased over the past year?
Interviewer: But what about the increase in incidents of Finnish motorists screaming, “what the hell is that?” and careening off the road?
Dr. Korhonen: One problem at a time. You know, it was the Finnish that invented Angry Birds.
Interviewer: I know, it was a very popular game.
Dr. Korhonen: Not the game. We have genetically altered flocks of ordinary birds and made them very aggressive and angry; they’ll crap on you just for the fun of it and then they’ll peck your eyes out.
Interviewer: And how could that possibly be useful?
Dr. Korhonen: Did I mention their crap is radioactive?
Interviewer: I‘m starting to think you’re just nuts.
Dr. Korhonen: When you’re the technological juggernauts of the world you don’t have to explain yourselves to dullard interviewers such as yourself.
The interview then ended abruptly when a pack of frenzied badgers poured into the room and attacked Dr. Korhonen. After several moments of wild chittering and gnashing of teeth, the badgers swarmed out of the room, leaving Dr. Korhonen in a bloody earless heap.
Moments later, they returned to room and mocked him. At least it seemed that way from their smug body language.
Your children are loud, sticky, and gross.
So don’t vilify me just because I don’t want to hear your children, see them, smell them, or be in their general vicinity. And I certainly don’t want to touch them–unnecessary and unwanted touching is precisely how the Black Plague proliferated. Flea-infested diseased riddled rats have taken the blame for far too long–it was filthy little children like yours.
And don’t try to tell me I should treasure your children’s presence because all children are precious. So is uranium and I don’t want to be around that.
Let’s Compare: it causes weakness, fatigue, fainting, and confusion. Bleeding from the nose, mouth, gums, and rectum. Bruising, skin burns, open sores on the skin, and sloughing of skin. Dehydration. Diarrhea and bloody stool. Fever. Hair loss. Nausea and vomiting. Organ failure and even death.
Uranium causes many of those same things.
Uranium, however, doesn’t scream like a psychotic brat at the top of its lungs because you didn’t give it an extra piece of fudge–uranium knows it’s already had enough and so should its mother.
So you and your precious children: just leave me be.
Addendum: If you believe there is the tiniest shred of a chance this post is referring to you and your children–it is!
We know these things because it’s what they tell us.
We expect our experts to tell us much, and much they tell us:
If not for the tireless work of experts, how many of us would still be living under the dark veil of happiness.
It must be exhausting being an expert.
If you should happen to see an expert on the street today, be sure to stop and give them a heartfelt thank you.
Millcreek, Pennsylvania–The Millcreek School District made national news last week when it armed its 500 teachers with 16 inch novelty baseball bats as a defense against school shooters.
“It was largely meant to be symbolic,” Millcreek School District Superintendent William Hall said, “of course you’re going to die in a hail of bullets if you try to stop an armed gunman with a toy bat…but symbolism is important in any life or death situation.”
But now the Millcreek School District has upped the ante: they have replaced the 16 inch black novelty bats with giant black Transylvanian vampire bats.
“I don’t know if it will keep potential gunmen out the school,” one teacher said, “but I’m not going back in there.”
“It’s the perfect solution,” Superintendent Hall said, “People are afraid of bats and people are afraid of vampires–I’m just stunned no one has thought of it before…I’m thinking about putting a bat on every school bus.”
Several students have been bitten and have described the simple act of attending school as terrifying.
“Welcome to Erie County,” Superintendent Hall said in response.
When asked if he would be arming his own office with a vampire bat the Superintendent replied, “are you crazy–those things are #!@$ing freaky.”
Addendum: in a note of clarification, Superintendent Hall informed us when he said people were afraid of vampires, he wasn’t referring to those sissy Twilight vampires that wax their chests and use too much hair product; he was referring to a proper Bela Lugosi vampire.
There is one salient fact about Limburger cheese: it is just awful. The only time I would need Limburger cheese, would be if I needed something that smelled like death and the smell from my giant pile of opossum crap just wasn’t enough.
Did you know the bacterium used to ferment Limburger cheese is the same bacterium that is responsible for body odor, and in particular, foot odor?
If you’ve ever smelled Limberger cheese, you had your suspicions.
Limburger cheese was first created in the Duchy of Limburg in the 19th century by a man who had just come home from a hard day of cheese making. He had unbuckled and removed his boots and was attempting to enjoy a meal with his wife when he and his wife got into an argument that changed the history of cheese making forever.
Wife: What is that horrendous smell?
Cheesemaker: Ooh, we’re having stoofvlees, I love stoofvlees.
Wife: It’s the most putrid smell I have ever encountered.
Cheesemaker: I don’t smell anything. Pass the ale.
Wife: I think it’s your feet.
Cheesemaker: Seriously. Pass the ale.
Wife: It’s rancorous.
Cheesemaker: It’s not that bad.
Wife: It is that bad. There are people retching on the other side of the Demer River.
Cheesemaker: Do you know what this conversation isn’t doing? It isn’t remedying the fact that I have no ale.
Wife: Your feet smell worse than that giant pile of opossum crap you have behind the house.
Cheesemaker: I’ll get my own ale.
Wife: Why do you even have a giant pile of opossum crap?
Cheesemaker: I’ll tell you why, (he pauses to take a slug of ale) because someday you’ll be in desperate need of copious amounts of opossum crap, and you’ll be glad it’s there.
Wife: I’ve thought the same thing about you, but it still hasn’t happened. Besides, it’s the worst smell in the world.
Cheesemaker: Nonsense. It’s not the worst smell in the world. In fact, I’ll bet that I could make a cheese that smells worse.
Wife: I doubt it.
Cheesemaker: You’ll see; it will become my mission.
Wife: Shut up and drink your ale.
And drink his ale he did.
And succeed he did–beyond his wildest ale-fueled dreams.
Of course, his wife left him and his giant pile of opossum crap.
The Duchy of Limburg is now divided by modern-day Germany, the Netherlands, and Belgium. None of the three countries wanted it: it reeked of Limburger cheese and developed a huge opossum problem.
Addendum: there are historians who will tell you certain items in this story aren’t factual–historians suck.