idiotprufs

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

Archive for the tag “satire”

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)

Lucky the Leprechaun Busted

idiotprufs, luck the leprechaun

The troubled leprechaun.

Golden Valley, Minnesota–In a shocking turn of events, longtime mascot of Lucky Charms cereal, Lucky the Leprechaun, was charged with driving while under the influence, resisting arrest and attempted bribery, according to Minnesota state police.

Upon pulling him over, he was found with several empty bottles of Irish whiskey, and a half-eaten box of Lucky Charms cereal. “I guess Lucky Charms cereal is like crack to leprechauns,” the arresting officer said, “no wonder they’re ‘magically delicious.”

“Don’t you know who I am?” The leprechaun kept yelling according to the arresting officer. Then he offered the officer three wishes and ‘all the Lucky Charms he Could snort’ if he would let him go.

It would seem that it was Lucky’s trouble had started with his pot of gold and an ill-advised wager. Apparently he had bet his entire pot of gold on the Carolina Panthers to win the Superbowl.

Police said it was a colleague who had prodded Lucky into the wager.

“That idiot Cap’N Crunch,” Lucky would rant. “It’s all about Cam Newton, It’s all about Cam Newton, he kept telling me.”

“He was a lot of trouble,” one of the booking officers reported. “Every time we tried to take his mug shot, he would disappear right before the camera flashed, then he would reappear and laugh hysterically…it was really annoying.”

At the bail hearing Lucky plead his case before the judge. “There’s so much pressure being an internationally known cereal mascot. Everyone expects you to keep up a certain image: clean cut and wholesome. But have you read the literature? That’s not how leprechauns are. We’re tricksters who like to smoke and drink and tell stories. Honestly, I hate kids: they’re loud and annoying and for some reason, they’re always sticky. Why the hell are they always so damn sticky?

He paused for a moment to compose himself.

“And the other cereal mascots really get on my nerves. That wimp the Trix Rabbit is always popping in unannounced, griping that he never gets any Trix because Trix are for kids. Just take some you pathetic fur ball, they’re just kids, what are they gonna do? That giant nosed freak Toucan Sam, flying around and crapping all over my carpet…you shouldn’t have to lay down newspaper when friend comes around. And don’t get me started on Tony The Tiger; he’s obnoxious, he smells and I’m pretty sure he has chiggers…does any of this sound “lucky” to you?” He then began to weep uncontrollably. His tears were green.

The judge released Lucky into the custody of General Mills pending trial.

A spokesman for General Mills said, “We certainly hope Lucky can straighten out his personal life. If not, were looking into gnomes.”

Note: Authorities are still unclear as to how a naked Justin Bieber wound up in the trunk of Lucky’s car; they both claim to have no memory of what happened the night before.

idiotprufs, leprechaun

I’m a Horrible Person

futurama

I know.

I’ve recently discovered I’m a soulless monster. My children are doomed to be soulless monsters. My children’s children are doomed to be soulless monsters. In fact, all of my descendants have a bleak soulless future.

It sucks.

All of this was pointed out to me by a woman who was quite certain I was pure evil.

What did I do to incur such condemnation–such wrath?

Did I murder someone?

No.

Did I steal from anyone?

No.

Did I punch a mime in the face at a child’s birthday party?

No–and he really had it coming.

Did I harm any person in any manner?

No.

Did I club a baby seal?

Of course not.

Did I club Seal the singer?

Never. His music brings such joy to the world.

Did I smash a neighbor’s garden gnome with a shovel then pee on its remains?

Not that the authorities can prove.

Did I get in the 12 items or less line with more than 12 items?

No.

Did I use the word less when the word fewer applied?

Apparently.

Did I keep a library book overdue for an extended period of time?

No.

Was the library book I kept overdue for an extended period of time, a self-help book titled: How to be Prompt, responsible, and Stop Compulsively Lying About not Keeping Library Books Overdue for Extended Periods of Time?

No???

Did I casually comment that I didn’t care for the movie Dances with Wolves?

Yes!

Evidently this is the worst thing a human can do. Not only does it reveal a horribly flawed taste in cinema, but it is also a mark of disrespect for the Native American culture.

Ridiculous! Did you realize the director’s cut of the movie is four hours long? If it were an erection, I would have had to call a doctor. And I can have a lot more fun with an erection than I can with a DVD of Dance with Wolves.

I quite enjoyed Braveheart, does that mean I don’t like the English?

Of course not. I love the English and their delicious muffins that perfectly hold in the buttery goodness.

I liked King Kong, does that mean I don’t like giant apes, and want to drop them from skyscrapers?

I love giant apes in every incarnation, from Mighty Joe Young to Grape Ape.

grape ape

He’s a giant ape and he’s grape–what’s not to like?

I really enjoyed Mississippi Burning, does that mean don’t like the KKK?

Okay…that was a bad example.

I thought The Children of the Corn was creepy and disturbing, does that mean I think children and corn are creepy and disturbing?

Corn isn’t creepy and disturbing.

I liked Roadhouse, does that mean I have a flawed taste in cinema?

Probably, but what are you gonna do?

I didn’t like Out of Africa, does that mean I don’t like…

I have no idea what that movie is about; it was so dreadfully boring, I quit paying attention early on.

I think Lawrence of Arabia is one of the greatest movies ever made, does that mean I don’t like the Turks?

To be honest, I spend precious little time contemplating the Turks.

I liked The Road Warrior, does that mean I want cataclysmic events to wipe out the majority of the world’s population?

I’ll get back to you on this one.

The point is, I didn’t like Dances with Wolves because I didn’t like it. It’s just an opinion, and I’m allowed to have it.

If you’ve read this blog to any extent, (and if you have–I apologize) you understand my personal preferences are a little off in many regards.

I’ve had many people express their distaste for this blog, and I’m perfectly fine with it. (They’re all stupid-heads anyway.)

dances with wolves

If the movie had been about this dog, I would have loved it.

My Rejection Letter From Happy Fun Time Children’s Stories.

This was one of my first posts, and it’s still one of the most popular. Go figure.

Dear Mr. Idiotprufs,

Here at Happy Fun Time Children’s Stories, we gain no greater satisfaction than when we create new and fresh children’s literature. So believe me when I express to you, we empathize with and appreciate your desire to write children’s stories. That being said, please stop it.

We believe that your talents lie in a genre away from children’s literature, very far away from children’s literature.

Take for example the first story you sent us, Little Timmy’s First Kite and the High Voltage Power Lines. A little boy’s first kite is a good idea for a children’s story. A little boy’s first experience with radical skin grafting: not so much.

Similarly, your story, The Poorly Constructed and Precariously High Treehouse, starts out with a treehouse–a good subject for a children’s story. It ends with a full body cast, and an addiction to painkillers–a bad subject for a children’s story.

And for the love of all that is good and merciful, please stop sending us stories that involve diseased chimpanzees.

For your reference, here is list of topics unsuitable for children’s stories:

  • A diseased chimp that has escaped from the zoo.
  • A diseased chimp that has escaped from the circus.
  • A diseased chimp that has escaped from a research lab.
  • A diseased chimp that has escaped from a secret underground facility run by evil albino Nazis.
  • A diseased chimp that has escaped from a secret underground facility under Bill Gates home.
  • A diseased chimp that has escaped from a secret underground facility run by evil albino Nazis, under Bill Gates home.
  • A diseased chimp that has escaped from Martha Stewart’s house. (If Miss Stewart were to ever have a chimp, we are certain it would not be diseased.)
  • A diseased chimp that has escaped from a one-eyed organ grinder.
  • A one-eyed organ grinder.
  • A diseased chimp with intestinal parasites.
  • Intestinal parasites.
  • Parasites. (Tapeworms are not lovable, and are seldom named Henry.)
  • Virtually any idea that has ever popped into your head.

In regards to your proposal for a series of books based on the ghost of mischievous monkey that haunts children who won’t eat their vegetables: it’s not a good idea. That doesn’t even take into consideration the certain legal difficulties that would arise from your main character: Mysterious George.

We hope that you will heed our advice and take to heart the following suggestions:

  1. Seek professional help.
  2. Whatever medications that are certain to be prescribed, take them.
  3. Stay as far away from children’s literature as you possibly can.

Sincerely,

Happy Fun Time Children’s Stories

P.S. In retrospect, stay as far away from actual children as possible.

treehouse

How could a story about this not be great?

  

“Experts”

expertOurs is a nation whose shores are teeming with experts. They are vital to our existence. We could barely function on daily basis if not for these titans of knowledge, and purveyors of wisdom. We know these things because it’s what they tell us.

We expect much of our experts, and they tell us much:

  • They tell us what to do.
  • They tell us what not to do.
  • They tell us what to think.
  • They tell us what not to think.
  • They tell us where we should go.
  • They tell us where we shouldn’t go.
  • They tell us what we should or shouldn’t be thinking, while doing what we should or shouldn’t be doing, on way to somewhere we should or shouldn’t be going.
  • They tell us not to be long winded.
  • The tell us not to be abrupt.
  • They tell us not to make things too complicated.
  • They tell us not to make things too simple.
  • They tell us what to say.
  • They tell us what not to say.
  • They tell us not to pronounce the T in the word often.
  • But when they tell us, they pronounce the T in the word often.
  • And they do it often.
  • They tell us not to interrupt people.
  • But they interrupt us to tell us.
  • They tell us what to write.
  • They tell us what not to write.
  • They tell us not to end a sentence with a preposition.
  • But you can end a sentence with the word preposition.
  • You can do it twice in a row.
  • They tell us what to eat.
  • What not to eat.
  • How long to boil an egg.
  • How long not boil an egg.
  • Don’t boil eggs–poach them.
  • Stop! Eggs are bad for you.
  • Now they’re not.
  • Now they are again.
  • Now they’re not again, as long as you don’t put salt on them; salt is very bad for you.
  • Now it’s not.
  • They complain constantly about office politics and their pointy-haired boss.  (Sorry, that’s not what experts do–that’s what Dilbert does.)
  • They don’t bother to tell us not to wash our hair with flea and tick shampoo.
  • They assume some people wouldn’t be stupid enough to wash their hair with flea and tick shampoo.
  • They tell us to read labels carefully, so you don’t accidentally cover your head with liquid pesticide.
  • They can bite me.
  • They tell us what to read.
  • They tell us what not to read.
  • Starting with seemingly endless and annoying lists.
  • When we feel miserable, they tell us why we feel miserable.
  • When we don’t feel miserable, they tell us why we should feel miserable.
  • When we feel happy, they knock some sense into us, so we can get back to the business of feeling miserable.
  • They tell us what to do to avoid death.
  • When we do what they say and die anyway, they tell our relatives why it’s not their fault.
  • And they show the importance of employing high powered lawyers, in the event that some people actually follow their advice.

If not for the tireless work of experts, how many of us would still be living under the dark veil of happiness.

Our experts must be totally exhausted.

If should happen to see an expert on the street today, stop and be sure to give him a heartfelt thank you. If you don’t know how to do that: ask him, I’m sure he’ll tell you how it should be done.Dilbert. point haired boss

 

Where Have the Clowns Gone?

scary clown idiotprufs

“Stop crying, Timmy, and cut your birthday cake.”

Prepare yourself for a shock–there is an impending clown shortage.

It is not possible for me to over-exaggerate the gravity of this situation.

Note: I’m sorry, if you’ve read this blog in the past, you know that over-exaggerating the gravity of the situation is exactly what I’m about to do, and I going to do it wildly.

Evidently, the desire to dress-up in outlandish clothing, slather on huge amounts of make-up, and go out into public and behave in a ridiculous and childish manner, has fallen out of vogue since Jersey Shore went off the air.

“What’s happening is attrition,” said Glen Kohlberger, Clowns of America International President. He then honked his nose like a bicycle horn and hit the reporter in the face with a pie. “The older clowns are passing away and today’s youth just doesn’t want to smell like elephant crap,” he lamented.

The problems that will arise from the clown shortage are many:

  • Unable to acquire a clown for your child’s tenth birthday party, you will be forced to hire a sweaty guy in a SpongeBob SquarePants costume. Bitter that he can’t find a better job, he will go on a alcohol fueled rampage. The lasting memory of your child’s tenth birthday party will be of a beloved cartoon character being brought down with a taser and dragged away in handcuffs, reeking of urine.
  • Ronald McDonald will be portrayed by a small Latvian woman with broken English.
  • Without proper rodeo clowns, bull-riders, once thrown from the rampaging bulls, will be at the bull’s mercy. Instead of being heroic figures, bull-riders will simply be known as: those guys who used to have testicles.
  • The art of making balloon animals will vanish from the face of the Earth. (Except for balloon snakes; we’ll still have those.)
  • Mimes will rise to a position of unprecedented power. In a silent coup (See what I did there?) they will seize control of the world and rule it with an iron fist. The population will be forced to wear white face make-up and dress like Frenchmen. People will flee into the wilderness and children will weep bitterly. When opposition to their authoritarian rule surfaces, they will do that thing where they wipe away fake tears, and it will really piss you off. Society will decay beyond repair, and centuries from now, Charlton Heston will find a ruined Statue of Liberty on the shoreline. He will fall to his knees and wail: You maniacs! You blew it up! Oh,damn you! Damn you all to hell!
  • It will be bad.

Note: If you’re going to a birthday party for your child, get a monkey in a cowboy hat; you can never go wrong with a monkey in a cowboy hat.

monkey in a cowboy hat

Seriously, you can’t go wrong.

Addendum

Mimes refuse to break character until you hit one with a bongo drum, then they’re “Chatty Cathy” when police arrive.

Smoking: What are You Waiting For?

Recently I jokingly asked someone if they could recommend a brand of cigarettes, because I needed a hobby, and I planned to take up smoking. This was met with a glassy-eyed stare, and an earnest lecture against the evils of smoking.

I felt it was time to revisit an old post extolling the many reasons people should start smoking.

Note: so many of my jokes are met with glassy-eyed stares, I could use them to hypnotize people.    

smoking face

See how happy you could be.
(image source: wpclipart.com)

The plight of tobacco executives in our country.

With the combination of class action lawsuits and the implementation of restrictive legislation, the poor tobacco executives in our country have taken a terrible beating over the past several years. It has resulted in a precipitous tumble in their social standing; they have gone from being filthy stinking rich, to being only extremely well off. If we don’t take immediate action, where will it end?

The fate of our tobacco executives if we don't take immediate action.image source: andertoons.com

The fate of our tobacco executives if we don’t take immediate action.
(image source: andertoons.com)

The word emphysema is really fun to say.

It’s a word that just rolls off your tongue.  Em-phy-se-ma: one syllable just flows into the next. Try saying it once. Try saying it several times in a row. Try saying it quickly. Try saying it quickly several times in a row (unless you have emphysema: you might pass out).

The great thing about emphysema is that once you have it, it never goes away. And emphysema will affect nearly every aspect of your life; so you will have no trouble working it into daily conversation:

  • The doctor diagnosed me with emphysema.
  • I’m taking this medicine for my emphysema.
  • I’d love to play with my grandchildren more, but I can’t because of my emphysema.
  • I climbed two flights of stairs and collapsed in a sweaty quivering mass due to my emphysema.
  • I won at scrabble when I played the word emphysema. Thank goodness I can still play board games.

Not only will you have fun with the word emphysema, but so will your friends and family, long after you’re gone:

  • What a nice funeral. I guess the doctor said he would have survived the pneumonia if hadn’t been for the emphysema.
  • He certainly died young, but his quality of life wasn’t very good with the emphysema.
  • Remember that time he coughed up a piece of lung and we all laughed for hours; crazy thing that emphysema.
In a twist of irony, you win a scrabble tournament playing the words healthy alveola.image source: snapdesign.com

In a twist of irony, you won a scrabble tournament playing the words, healthy alveoli.
(image source: snapdesign.com)

You need to know what they’re talking about.

You’ve seen them huddled together, enjoying their cigarettes, with their furtive glances and secretive whispers.

They’re outside of the bar, the restaurant, the bank. They’re outside any and every place of business. They assemble in the wind, the rain, and the snow. They assemble regardless of scorching heat or an F5 tornado. Nothing deters them.

What can they be talking about? It must be of incredible importance. They must be solving the puzzles of the universe.

You’ve tried approaching them, but without a cigarette in your hand, they just regard you with disdain and disgust.

It’s been eating at you; you need to know what they’re talking about.

Note: It’s a little known fact that Albert Einstein developed both special and general relativity, while huddled with a bunch of coworkers outside of a patent office, in a brutal German snowstorm.

Get lost, we're doing something important. We're developing a cure for cancer or emphysema. Hey, emphysema, that's fun to say.image source: sodahead.com

“Get lost, we’re discussing important things. We’re discussing a possible cure for cancer or emphysema. Hey, emphysema, that’s fun to say.”
(image source: sodahead.com)

To stick it to that know-it-all the Surgeon General

You’re a rebel and you don’t appreciate anybody telling you how to live your life. You certainly don’t need some preachy Surgeon General constantly yapping at you about lung cancer, heart disease, or 32 known carcinogens.

There are tons of dangerous activities out there that the Surgeon General has said absolutely nothing about:

  • Poking yourself in the eye with a stick.
  • Dropping a brick on your toes.
  • Insulting the wife of a tattoo laden biker dude.
  • Juggling knives.
  • Attempting to re-attach your fingers with a sewing needle and some thread following some ill-advised knife juggling.
  • Hitting yourself repeatedly in the face with a hammer.

Why don’t hammers come with an explicate warning from the Surgeon General; you don’t have to hit yourself in the face more than five or six times with a hammer, to do some real damage.

If we’re going to make any real changes, it’s up to all of you out there to light up and start puffing away.

I’d start smoking today if my jaw wasn’t wired shut.

I'm launching a law suit; those irresponsible executives at Black & Decker, need to learn.image source: wpclipart.com

I’m launching a lawsuit; those irresponsible executives at Black & Decker, need to learn.
(image source: wpclipart.com)

A Healthy and Shiny Coat

coconut idiotprufs

The vile coconut.

Coconut makes me sick. If I bite into something with coconut in it, I will immediately begin to gag.

The mere smell of coconut makes me nauseous. In fact, anything coconut scented bothers me.

Am I telling  you this because I’m a whiny little crybaby?  A little bit, but I do have a point.

I was attempting to take a shower at my friend Lance’s house.

Note: normally I don’t use real names in an effort to protect the innocent, but no one here is innocent.

I stood in his shower, surveying the menagerie of shampoo and hair conditioner bottles that littered the front of the tub. I had only one priority in choosing a shampoo: it mustn’t be coconut scented.

I spotted a small innocuous bottle of green shampoo set off to the side. Green shampoo is likely apple blossom scented, or green tea, possibly something herbal, but it certainly wouldn’t be coconut.

Without checking to see what it was, I confidently applied the shampoo to my hair and began to lather up.

The scent was odd, not at all what I expected. My scalp immediately began to tingle; it must be dandruff shampoo.

The tingling sensation transitioned to a burning sensation. The burning sensation spread to my eyes and nose, and there was a strange metallic taste in my mouth. It certainly wasn’t apple blossom.

As I started to rinse the shampoo from my hair, the burning intensified and it felt like I had gargled battery acid.

I grabbed the bottle to find out exactly what kind of poison I had been scrubbing into my scalp.

Flea and tick shampoo for dogs?

Are you kidding me?

The warning label instructed dog owners to wear gloves while applying the shampoo to their dogs, and to avoid making contact with skin.

Not only was the shampoo all over my skin, some of it had run down to the tender bits.

I grabbed a different bottle of shampoo, squeezed a copious amount into my hand, and began to aggressively slather it over my body.

A stark and sudden realization paralyzed me: coconut!

What insufferable madness is this?

The combination of pesticide and coconut made my stomach to flip like Nadia Comaneci in the 76 Olympics. I began to wretch like a cat hacking up a hairball; something Nadia Comaneci has probably never done.

It was horrible.

I was nauseous the remainder of the day, and everything I ate tasted like someone had sprayed Raid on it.

Lance would point out my hair to people and say, “doesn’t he have a healthy and shiny coat?” Then he would laugh hysterically.

Note: I told you no one was innocent.

“Don’t you read labels?” Lance’s girlfriend scolded.

“I sorry. I didn’t realize there would be a bottle of napalm in the shower,” I responded.

“Don’t be a baby,” she told me.  “I use that shampoo on the dog all the time and he never complains.”

I thought this criticism to be unfair. The dog also humps your leg, licks himself in indiscreet places, and eats his poop. I do almost none of those things.

Through it all, at least I know I’m virtually parasite free.

Note: Don’t worry, Henry my tapeworm is fine and doing well.

nadia comeneci, idiotprufs

Nadia scored a perfect 10; my stomach did not.

Don’t Cry Over Spilled Mercury Vapor

cfl lightbulb cleanup hindenburg

It’s just a light bulb…right?

I broke a light bulb the other day.

It’s not a big deal, right? You just grab a broom and sweep it up.

But this was a compact flourescent light bulb, so I went to epa.gov for instructions regarding proper disposal.

This is what I found:

STEP ONE

  • Abandon your home like it is Chernobyl.
  • Run screaming into the night.
  • Never look back.

STEP TWO

If step one is not feasible, acquire the following items for cleanup.

  • A stiff piece of cardboard (that you will later burn).
  • Sticky tape (that you will later burn).
  • A broom (that you will later hack to bits with a machete and burn).
  • A machete.
  • A glass jar with a metal lid.
  • A metal jar with a glass lid.
  • Five metric tons of concrete.
  • 15 silver-plated shovels.
  • A Sham-wow. (You won’t be using the Sham-wow for cleanup, they’re just really handy to have around.)
  • A helper monkey named Jeff, who is immune to gamma rays.
  • Gamma rays.
  • A number of friends who are willing to help you, regardless of the fact their hair will fall out and boils will cover their bodies.
  • Rogaine and boil medication.
  • A ham and cheese sandwich. (This is going to take some time; you will get hungry.)

STEP THREE

After step two fails:

  • Burn your house to the ground.
  • Attend the funerals of the friends who didn’t make it.
  • Give moving eulogies.
  • Make new friends (seriously, your current group of friends are just hideous looking) you’ve still got work to do.

STEP FOUR

Disposing of the ashes of your home:

  • Collect the ashes of your home and bury them in a thirty foot hole.
  • Dig them up and burn them again.
  • Bury them in fifty foot hole.
  • Cover the hole with concrete.
  • Surround the concrete with an electrified fence.
  • Put a sign on the fence that reads: Beware Bigfoot.
  • Remove the sign after the site becomes a gathering place for people who believe they’ve found irrefutable evidence of Bigfoot.
  • Put a sign on the fence that reads: Beware Yeti.
  • Learn from your mistakes.
  • Dig a moat.
  • Fill the moat with acid.
  • Move on with your life.

STEP FIVE

Moving on with your life:

  • Purchase a new house.
  • Move in and make it a home.
  • Drop another compact flouresant light bulb.
  • Scream in anguish.

STEP SIX

  • Abandon Earth.
  • Colonize Mars.
  • Don’t take any compact flourescent light bulbs.

Note: This is from the “quick instructions” portion of the website. The “detailed instructions” portion was just ridiculous.

muppet running

“Run Away!”

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 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.”

Addendum:

I’ll bet you thought I was going to mention Justin Bieber somewhere in this post.

Well you were wrong…apart from this bit.

 

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