idiotprufs

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

Archive for the tag “satire”

“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.

 

Does a Bee Sting in the Penis Hurt?

bee sting

“You want me to sting you where now?”

A million dollar National Science Foundation grant was given to Cornell University so a researcher could force bees to sting him on his penis to find out how much it hurts.

Let that sink in.

In a shocking turn of events–being stung in the penis hurts.

The idea was inspired by an unfortunate situation when a honeybee flew up Michael Smith’s shorts and stung him. “I was really surprised that it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would,” he said. The experience got him thinking: Where is the most painful place on the body to get stung by a bee?

Oddly, it didn’t get him thinking about his choice of shorts when bike riding, or his strange proclivity for rubbing flower pollen on his inner thighs before he goes bike riding.

Note: the bee found the whole experience to be horrifying. “I was just buzzing along, very busy as we’re known to be, when suddenly I was all up in this dudes junk,” the bee said.  

With the financial support from a National Science Foundation (NSF) Graduate Research Fellowship grant to Cornell University, Smith forced honey bees to sting more than 25 locations on his body from the face to the genitals. He then rated the pain caused by each of the stings on a scale of “Ouch” to “Holy Crap, What Have I Done.

To compel a bee to sting, it was grabbed by the wings and pressed against the desired sting location.

Note: the million dollar research grant pales in comparison to the multi-million dollar lawsuit filed be the bees who were “compelled” to sting Michael Smith in the penis.   

bee sting research

One million dollars being spent.

The least painful locations to be stung by a bee for Michael Smith were the skull, middle toe tip, the upper arm, and some guy who happened to walk into the room at the wrong time.

The most painful places for Michael Smith were the nostril, upper lip, the genitals, and the broken nose that resulted when the guy who got stung when he happened to walk into the room, punched him in the face.

Michael had originally had his eye on the list, but was talked out of it by his advisor Tom Seeley.

Note: I think it’s safe to say, despite the advice about the eye, as an advisor, Tom Seeley has failed Michael Smith miserably.  

He concedes this study is limited by its low sample size: one person, the author. “It is possible that if other people were tested, they would not rank the painfulness of the stings in the same way, or perceive pain similarly by location. And a female researcher may rate being stung in her penis or scrotum very differently.”

Failed Him Miserably!  

In case you’re wondering, these methods do not conflict with the Helsinki Declaration, which is a set of ethical principles for research involving human subjects developed by the World Medical Association.

In a “unrelated” experiment, researchers from Brown University have set out to see if they could convince some moron from Cornell to compel bees to repeatedly sting him in the penis. (Helsinki is looking into it.)

Addendum:

The assertion that Michael Smith rubs flower pollen on his inner thighs before he goes bike riding is purely speculation on my part…but he probably does.

bee sting penis

I think I see where Michael Smith went wrong.

A Call to Arms– the Garden Gnome Menace

We're here for you.

There are more of them everyday.

It is a well known and widely accepted fact that garden gnomes are evil creatures of the night.

They spend their days in an inanimate state, surrounding the homes of the naïve, who have become witless servants to their evil machinations.

They often assume silly poses and sport whimsical names such as Boddywinkle or Fudwick.

This whimsy is a lie.

This whimsy is a lie.

Do not be fooled by this subterfuge, they are maniacal creatures with evil plans.

This is far more typical behavior.

This is far more typical behavior.

There are some in the so-called “scientific community” who will try to tell you that this is hokum, mere nonsense.

Some are those who are secretly working in concert with the gnomes, helping to propagate their plans for world domination.

Some are just quacks, unable to see the truth before their eyes.

image source: wpclipart.com

“Garden gnomes are harmless decorations, and not at all sinister…I’m not a quack.”

Here is a short list of some of nighttime activities in which garden gnomes engage:

  • They pee on your vegetable garden. (This might also be the neighbor kid Gerald.)
  • They taunt your neighbor’s dog so that it barks all freaking night. (Also possibly Gerald.)
  • They let the air out of your tires, but different amounts in every tire, so that your ride to work is really bumpy.
  • They sneak into your garage and replace all your English standard unit tools with metric tools, so that when you try to fix something, nothing quite fits.
  • In Canada, they do they opposite.
  • They put signs on your front door that read: Jehovah’s Witnesses Welcome.
  • They take one bite out of the apple, then put it back in the bowl.
  • They drive really slow in the fast lane.
  • They paint the phrase, Justin Bieber Rules, in bright pink letters on the side of your car. But they paint it on the passenger side, so you don’t see it right away, and drive all the way to work with people inexplicably pointing at you and laughing.
  • They fill your mailbox with pinecones. Really sticky ones.
  • They sneak into your home and replace all your Yuengling Traditional Lager with Natural Light.

See what I mean–pure evil.

There is a singular weapon that is particularly effective in the battle against garden gnomes: a silver plated shovel. (You can also kill them with a regular shovel, but it’s not nearly as cool.)

Gruesome but necessary.

Gruesome but necessary.

This menace must be dispatched.

Their plans to foment anarchy must be stopped.

Get your shovel today and join me in this call to arms.

Warning: You might have crybaby neighbors who have a proclivity for calling the police, acquiring court orders, or making public videos of you smashing garden gnomes in your pajamas. So be careful.

Grab your weapon today.

An instrument of garden gnome death, or if you just need to dig hole, it’s good for that too.

Hey Idiot–Use Your Good Eye

(image source: wpcliparts.com)

People in this country will forgive a lot of things, maybe even most things, but there is one thing people find unforgivable.

One thing that is so contemptuous, so vile, that it will send normally docile people into profanity laced tirades.

It will make the most even-tempered among us see red and spit blood, some of it our own.

It causes the young and healthy to have debilitating brain aneurysms, and reduces white-haired grandmothers to obscene gestures and fist waving.

It will even cause the Pope to punch mimes in the face.

What is this one thing: people who screw-up traffic.

Note: I was just kidding, mimes are the reason the Pope punches mimes in the face. They refuse to break character when you need to talk to them, but hit a mime in the stomach with a ukulele just one time, and they won’t shut up once the police arrive.

Other motorists don’t care why you’re screwing up traffic, just that you are screwing up traffic. You could be slumped over your steering wheel with an arrow protruding from one of your eyes sockets and most compassionate thing you’re gonna hear from another motorist is: “Hey idiot–use your good eye.”

Note: In an unrelated matter, did you know that without transmission fluid, a car is less of an automobile and more of a giant metal traffic clogger? It is.

Here are just some of the ways in which you can screw-up traffic:

  • By driving.
  • By driving too slowly in the fast-lane; it’s called the fast-lane, people are trying to get somewhere.
  • By driving too fast; are you trying to kill someone, maniac?
  • By never using your turn signal; let people know what you’re doing. You’re obviously stupid, we just don’t know how stupid.
  • By driving for miles and miles with your turn signal blinking for no apparent reason.
  • By trying to navigate a 4-way stop; they are the Bermuda Triangles of the traffic world.
  • By taking your eyes off the road to make an obscene gesture to another motorist.
  • By taking your eyes off the road to text your friend; nothing you have to say is important.
  • By taking your eyes off the road to pick-up the cell phone you just dropped while texting your friend.
  • By taking your eyes off the road and your hands off the steering wheel to pick-up the cell phone you just dropped while texting your friend, because it has bounced under the passenger side seat. (You will however need to find it to dial 911 after you hit that tree.)
  • By driving down the road with your seat-belt hanging out the door, making sparks on the road; it’s dangerous when you cause other motorists to laugh hysterically.
  • By having your automobile come to an abrupt stop in the middle of a busy street because your transmission fluid has suddenly drained from your car. (This is your not fault; you can tell all those idiots honking their horns to shove it.)

Shove it!
(image source: wpclipart,com)

Remember: it doesn’t matter why you’ve screwed-up traffic, just that you have.

Do you think that people hate O.J. Simpson because he got away with double-homicide? No. It’s because when the police came to get him, he got in that Ford Bronco, got on the California highway on a Friday afternoon and screwed up traffic.

Unhappy Penguins With Happy Feet

We’ll show you happy feet.

The zoo is place of learning, a place of discovery, a place to take in the breadth and width of God’s creation. It’s a place where every ten steps you stop and check the bottom of your child’s shoe to ensure that revolting smell isn’t something he’s stepped in.

At these zoos, zoologists separate animals into several basic categories:

Animals that can kill you by stomping on you:

  • Big elephants.
  • Not so big elephants.
  • Smallish elephants.
  • Most any elephant.
  • Mimes pretending to be elephants.
  • Hippopotami.
  • Moose.
  • Bison.
  • Really huge geese.
  • Small geese, but a butt-load of them.
  • Giraffes.
  • An incensed mob of penguins that over-heard you casually comment that Happy Feet sucked.
  • Bigfoot.
  • That crazy mom from Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.
  • Chris Christie.
  • Rhinos
  • The Hulk.
  • Your aunt with the chunky thighs.

Note: there is precious little difference between The Hulk and your aunt with the chunky thighs, in the moments after you’ve told your aunt she has chunky thighs.

Animals that can kill you by biting or stinging you:

  • Rattlesnakes.
  • Scorpion.
  • Box jellyfish.
  • Black mambo.
  • The Brazilian wandering spider. If the venom of the Brazilian wandering spider doesn’t kill you, it may result in permanent impotence (Insert off-color joke here–I know have some).
  • Gerald the creepy neighbor kid.
  • Diseased rats.
  • Honey Boo Boo.

Animals that will eat you:

  • Lions.
  • Tigers.
  • Cougars–the feline type.
  • Cougars–the lady type.
  • Polar bears.
  • Yogi Bear (But only if he can’t find any pic-a-nic type baskets).
  • Crocodiles.
  • German cannibals that advertise on Craigslist.
  • Sharks.
  • Piranha.
  • Crazed bunny rabbits.
  • C.H.U.D.
  • Territorial crows.
  • Flocks of wild chickens bent on revenge.

Animals that you can eat:

  • Cows.
  • Wild boar.
  • Ducks
  • Bunny rabbits (You have to get them before they get you).
  • Geese.
  • German guys that answer your Craigslist ad.
  • Deer that your uncle shot.
  • Deer that your uncle hit with his truck.
  • What you suspect is opossum that your uncle hit with his truck, but he is suspiciously evasive about what it is.
  • Tofu turkey (Just kidding, tofu was never alive, it just tastes like something that’s dead).
  • Chicken McNuggets.

Animals that look as though they’ve been genetically altered by a mad scientist:

  • The star-nosed mole.
  • The duck-billed platypus.
  • The axolotl.
  • The aye aye.
  • The entire cast of Jersey Shore.

Animals that appear cute and cuddly but are actually quite dangerous:

  • Mink.
  • The short-tailed shrew.
  • The leopard seal.
  • Gerald the neighbor kid (Not really–he is not cute).
  • Penguins after you made that wise-crack about Happy Feet.
  • Honey Boo Boo.

So the next you go to the zoo, print-out this list and take it with you. Quote from it generously. I guarantee that everyone around you will stare in wide-eyed wonder at the depth of your knowledge.

Note: It’s not until you get home that you discover that revolting smell is your child.

The axolotl, because I know you think I made that name up.

The axolotl, because I know you think I made that name up.

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