idiotprufs

what the hell else are you gonna do with your time?

Archive for the tag “satire”

Millcreek School District Adds Even More Bats

Millcreek bat

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.

big black bat

“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.

dracula

“You sissy Twilight vampires are really hurting our image.”

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Read Well or Hurl Feces

reading monkey

It’s good to see you’re reading.

Reading informs you, it improves your memory, it increases your analytical abilities, and it exercises your mind.

Reading is like doing a big pile of mental squat thrusts, without the searing pain in your side and the inevitable vomiting.

The ability to communicate through the written word is one of the most significant ways in which humans are separated from the lower primates.

It ranks just ahead of our ability to remove unwanted body hair, and just behind our general reluctance to settle disputes by scrabbling up a tree and hurling our feces.

Note: I feel I should point out that hurling feces can be a very effective tool in certain situations I have a few aunts with uncanny accuracy.

Imagine some of the ways lacking the ability to read and write well can be detrimental to your happiness:

  • The annoying pile of traffic tickets that results because you think the stop sign reads: Floor It, Cowboy.
  • The comic hilarity that is Marmaduke, is nothing more to you than a bunch of confused scribbles about a big clumsy dog.
  • When you tell people you read Playboy for the articles, you’re only lying slightly if can actually read.
  • Instead of being vessels for whimsical Eastern wisdom, fortunes cookies are just bits of baked crap.
  • Limericks. What kind of life is it without the ability to read limericks?
  • Rather than informative advertisements, billboards are giant mocking reminders of your inability.
  • The ability to read the subtitles, transforms French films from completely indecipherable to mostly indecipherable.
  • Those embarrassing visits to the emergency room because you misread the words “do not” in the warning on a can of Raid, which reads: Do not spray directly into face.

Did you know that Ken Edwards of Glossup, Derbyshire, England ate 36 cockroaches in one minute, to set the world record? Now you do, because you have the ability to read.

Just moments ago, you probably had never heard of Ken Edwards of Glossup, Derbyshire, England. Now you possess a powerful bit of information.

A piece of information that can be used as a conversation starter, to jumpstart a dinner party that has hit a lull, or simply to amaze and impress your friends.

The next time you meet an attractive woman, but you’re unsure of how to break the ice; just bust out this little fact about Ken Edwards of Glossup, Derbyshire, England. If she doesn’t blast you in the face with pepper spray–you’re in.

Your ability to read and write has armed you with the tools you need to thrust forward in life with bold confidence. Rare will be the occasion you will need to rely upon scrabbling up a tree and hurling your feces to settle a dispute.

If Ken Edwards of Glossup, Derbyshire, England had spent a little more time reading, perhaps he wouldn’t have to shovel fistfuls of cockroaches into his mouth to get attention.

idiotprufs reading

Ken Edwards, champion cockroach eater/ladies man.

 

Barrel Shopping for Niagara Falls

barrel for going over falls

A barrel like this would be great…but I prefer something in color.

In a recent post I discussed my plans to go over Niagara Falls in a barrel.

Now that I’ve made the decision to go over Niagara Falls in a barrel there are few slight logistical wrinkles that need to be ironed out.

First and foremost: I need a barrel. I have several vital requirements for the barrel I choose for my journey over the falls:

  1. It must be watertight enough to endure the 681,750 gallons of water that travel over the falls per second, without filling with water and killing me horribly.
  2. It has to be sturdy enough to endure the 2,509 tons of force created by the 681,750 gallons of water that travel over the falls without losing structural integrity and killing me horribly.
  3. It must be able to withstand the 167 foot drop without bursting on impact and killing me horribly.
  4. It must be spacious enough for me to comfortably fit into. (I don’t like to be cramped almost as much as I don’t like to be killed horribly.)
  5. It must fit into the trunk of Mercury Marquis. (I have bungee cords.)

My search for a suitable barrel has been less than fruitful.

It’s startling just how unhelpful the employees of Walmart are when comes to barrel shopping.

You wouldn’t believe the slack-jawed looks I get when I ask them where they keep their barrels for going over waterfalls in–they gape at me like I’m a moron.

The people at Ace Hardware are even less helpful. Their little jingle: “Ace is the place with the helpful hardware folks” is a blatant and disgusting lie. It should be: “Ace is the place where smug judgmental pricks named Rob question your mental stability.”

I went to web site of the deceivingly named Crate & Barrel–completely useless unless you plan to go over Niagara Falls on an overpriced chaise lounge.

(I did however find a delightful celosia black hand-knotted area rug.)

It appears in order to find a suitable barrel for going over Niagara Falls, I’m required to have one custom made.

Going over Niagara Falls in a barrel is turning out to be more difficult than I had imagined, but I will soldier on.

More updates to come.

liquuor barrel

What a great barrel; I just have to empty it of the Jack Daniels inside–it’s a plan!

Addendum:

It’s been recently suggested by some of my Aunt’s that I should die horribly, preferably by my own hand, so this could work out well for them.

Erie School District to Arm Teachers with Lacrosse Sticks — gooferie

Inspired by the Millcreek School District’s decision to issue miniature baseball bats to its teachers, the Erie School District is now providing lacrosse sticks to its teachers for classroom defense. “We saw what Millcreek did, and we are taking it a step further,” said ESD spokesperson Kate Schellenbach. “Baseball bats are OK, but we feel […]

via Erie School District to Arm Teachers with Lacrosse Sticks — gooferie

Mooning Garden Gnome Goes Missing

missing sign

The horror.

It seems some deplorable person has absconded with Willard #6, the neighbor’s mooning garden gnome.

A quick recap of the previous Willards:

The first Willard met an untimely demise at the hands of some maniac with a shovel.
Willard #2 was also smashed with a shovel.
Willard #3 was backed over with a car and smashed with a shovel.
Willard #4 was unexpectedly hit with a brick, peed on, and smashed with a shovel.
Willard #5 was pulverized with a sledgehammer and set on fire. (Shovel broke while smashing something.)

Your wondering how I have such intimate knowledge of the tragedies that have befallen the Willards if I had nothing to with it–you ask to many questions.

I don’t even own a sledgehammer. (Apart from that delightful Peter Gabriel song from the 80’s.)

After comfortably adorning the neighbor’s lawn for consecutive summers without incident, it seemed Willard #6 was safe from any acts of malfeasance. But sometimes a neighbor will get a bit too cocky and then unfortunate things happen. Not in this case–but sometimes.

There are some who credit the motion activated lighting and camera the neighbor had installed in his yard for the lack of incidents over the previous two summers. Utter nonsense, whoever disabled the camera before they took Willard #6 could have done so two years ago.

Any number of things could have happened to Willard #6.

He may be decorating the lawn of a thief. He may now be in the possession of some rapscallion children. Maybe he’s being held for future ransom. Perhaps he’s sprung to life and just wandered off.

It’s entirely possible he’s resting at the bottom of Lake Erie because his loudmouthed owner can’t keep his opinions to himself…but I’m just guessing.

idiotprufs mooning gnome

If you see this mooning garden gnome somewhere, just keep it to yourself.

Flashback: Top Ten Other Things the Mayans Got Wrong

My apologies to David Letterman.

My apologies to David Letterman.

I stumbled upon this post, one of the very first of this blog, from many years ago. Do you remember when the world was supposed to end?

In my previous post, I detailed my displeasure with the fact that the world didn’t come a cataclysmic end on December 21st. Not only did nothing cool happen, but even worse, I was forced to finish my Christmas shopping.

I’ve discovered after doing some exhaustive research (Google) there were a myriad of things the Mayans got wrong.

Top Ten Other Things The Mayans Got Wrong

10)  Caddyshack 2 will be just as funny as Caddyshack.

 9) A man named Isaac Newton will be resting under an apple tree when an apple will fall on his head. He will become so irate that he invents a machine that will be used to systematically destroy all apple trees, ridding the land of the scourge of falling apples.

 8) Queen Anne is so taken with Newton’s apple tree destroying prowess, she has him knighted. Although a great honor, he is hampered by the fact that he can now only move two spaces forward and one space over on a chess board.

 7) The common folk of 18th century England become so enraged that they can no longer obtain apples, they form a mob and throw Sir Isaac Newton over a cliff. On the way down he has a fleeting thought about something called gravity. Alas, it perishes with him.

 6) Without the foundation of Newtonian physics to expand upon, Albert Einstein never leaves his job as a patent clerk. He does however patent the Sham-wow and he becomes filthy rich.

 5) In the early 20th century a majestic ship called the Titanic is built, it traverses the seas for centuries. However, the movie Titanic, about a ship where nothing ever goes wrong, completely flops.

    Note: The Mayans also go on and on about Siskel but say nothing at all about Ebert. Two thumbs down Mayans.

 4) A man named J.R.R. Tolkien will write a few simple stories about some hobbits; nothing much will come of them.

 3) A mighty force called the Cleveland Browns will arise. They will win many championships called Super Bowls. At about the same time, there will be a record cold snap in Hell.

 2) The shoreline in a place called New Jersey, will become the epicenter for culture and wisdom in the western world. This will happen in the early 21st century and be a clear sign that the end is near.

 1) Those Spaniards seem like nice fellows; nothing bad could ever come of our relationship with them.

colt mccoy

Mighty warriors of the 21st century.

!#@$%# Raccoons

raccoon

“Excellent!”

The following happened while I was employed as a quality control inspector at a steel coating plant outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

It was about 6:15 AM as I crossed the plant floor toward the offices. The lights weren’t turned on yet, and though the sun was rising outside, the interior of the building was still a dark tangle of shadows.

In the distance I could see a short stumpy figure climbing the ladder to where the cranes and catwalks are.

I wondered why Jim, the crane operator, would be climbing into the crane so early, and thought it peculiar that he was doing it in the dark. As I looked more closely, I realized that it wasn’t Jim at all; it was the biggest raccoon I had ever seen. (Yes, I mistook a huge raccoon for Jim, if you had ever met Jim, you would understand.) The raccoon then disappeared into the darkness of the rafters and catwalks.

“I’ve seen that raccoon,” Ken, one of the private inspectors, told me. “It comes up from the Ohio River at daybreak and just disappears into the building somewhere.”

Suddenly Rick the foreman, who was sitting at his desk, jumped up, twirled around, and yelled at us, “they ain’t clean.”

“What?” Ken said slightly startled.

“People think that raccoons are clean, but they ain’t clean. People think that raccoons are clean because they wash their food. They wash their food because they ain’t got no saliva; they don’t wash their food because they’re clean.” He stood glaring at us in silence for a moment before punctuating his tirade: “They ain’t clean!”

“Well..” was all that Ken got out.

“And they ain’t smart. People think they’re smart because they’ve got little people hands, but they ain’t smart. They ain’t clean and they ain’t smart.” He then stormed from the office as if he had been horribly offended.

Ken and I stood in a state of bewildered silence. Although neither of us said anything, we knew what each other was thinking: what the hell?

After a few moments, Ken broke the silence,”Wow, Rick really !#@$%# hates raccoons.”

We speculated about what frightful trauma must have occurred to instill such a level of hatred for a furry animal. Maybe as a small child he was attacked by a racoon. Maybe as a teen, a pack of racoon toughs bullied and taunted him. Maybe they knocked the books from his hands as he awkwardly made his way through the school hallway. (Rick had the physical presence of Ichabod Crane, without the grace.)

This is what I think happened: it was prom night, the night Rick had dreamed of since he was a little boy. He had his tuxedo. He had the corsage that he would tenderly pin to her gown. It was his night to shine.

She was a little late, but that’s fashionable right? He paced impatiently as the minutes stretched into hours. Periodically he’d stop to check his watch as he would mumble under his breath, “she’ll be here any minute now.”

“Don’t ask a raccoon to the prom,” his friends had advised. “They’d rather scavenge through garbage cans than slow dance to Bryan Adams songs.”

But Rick was infatuated.

The night came and went without a word from her. Rick’s never gotten past the heartbreak and devastation. Now he has an irrational hatred of all raccoons.

The source of Rick’s heartbreak.

Sister City Disappointment

Opera House

Sydney, Australia: a lovely sister city.

North East, Pennsylvania–The residents of the small village 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 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.”

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 spider. 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.”eastern brown snake

Honey and Flies: What’s the Point

honey

You’re all familiar with the following saying:

You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

The suggestion here is that you gain more by being nice to people than by being rude.

But this is the question I have for you: why do you want to catch a bunch of flies; you can’t do anything with them.

You can’t train them to do anything, they’re completely stupid.

You can’t eat them: you get wing stuck in your teeth, they have limited nutritional value, and they taste like fly.

And once you’ve got flies stuck in your honey, the honey is ruined. Ten seconds before that fly landed in your honey, it was prancing around on a disease ridden pile of dog crap.

Do you really want to walk around all day being all flowery and nice to people if your reward is a bunch of stupid, disease ridden, dog crap prancing, insects that taste like fly.

Let me give you a quick heads-up about people: people suck.

It would be a different story if you could train flies to attack people that suck. I’d be all for throwing the honey around then.

Until then, I think I’ll just stick with the vinegar.

Pyramid

Moses: now there was a dude who knew how to use flies.

Don’t Pee on the Electric Fence

Even the cows think you're an idiot.

Even the cows think you’re an idiot.

Never had greater words of wisdom passed over human lips: Don’t pee on the electric fence.

Well, maybe not great words of wisdom, but to a bunch of young boys about to go ramming through a cow pasture on their way to the woods, they seemed like great words of wisdom. After all, he was an old guy, and old guys know stuff.

Of course, to a group of young rapscallions, this was practically a dare to pee on the electric fence.

Note: As it turned out, far more useful words of wisdom would have been: don’t pee close enough to the electric fence that your friends can shove you into it. Don’t trust your friends: another solid piece of advice.

They may not be words that hold the eloquence of the Gettysburg Address or the weight of Churchill’s address to a joint session of Congress upon the United States entrance into the war, but if you had ever been shoved penis first into an electric fence, you would appreciate their significance.

He also told us not to eat any mushrooms growing on cow crap. He was evidently unconcerned with the  myriad of poisonous mushrooms growing everywhere else.

The point is: a few short words of wisdom can save a young man from a lot of misery. Words of wisdom such as:

  • Regardless of how far your super-soaker sprays, you’re still too close to the hornet’s nest.
  • You don’t want to discover the quantitative value for the phrase “mad as a hornet.”
  • It may seem sturdy, but an umbrella is not an adequate substitute for a parachute.
  • When jumping from the barn roof with an umbrella, the hay bales below are much less of a cushioning factor than one might think.
  • Despite the blood, “look what you did to my umbrella?” is the first thing an adult will think to say.
  • Even though most varieties of snakes are not venomous, you still don’t want them to bite you.
  • Convincing your cousin to let a snake bite him so that you find out whether or not it’s venomous, seems like a good idea, but it will really piss-off your aunt.
  • Never utter the phrase “sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never harm me,” to someone who is in possession of sticks or stones. In the jungle that is playground justice, you will be whacked over the head with a stick.
  • Do not ever, under any circumstance, tell a girl that her socks make her look like a rodeo clown.
  • That old children’s rhyme about girls being made of sugar and spice and everything nice–total crap.
  • Don’t melt play-doh on the stove. (What seems like a scientific experiment to you, is just wanton destruction to your mother.)
  • Ditto with crayons.
  • Don’t purposely try to set off the smoke alarm just to see how loud it is–it’s loud.
  • Thinking your mother won’t hear the smoke alarm because she’s in the shower, is a big wet screaming mistake.
  • And finally: don’t pee on the electric fence.

    Don't eat these mushrooms. Leave the cow crap alone too.

    Don’t eat these mushrooms. Leave the cow crap alone too.

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