idiotprufs

Illegal in 38 states–frowned upon in the rest.

Archive for the tag “stupid”

Up in Smoke

This blog is veritable cornucopia of useful information.

In a previous post entitled: Just a Few Idiotprufs, the following passage appeared.

Don’t try to remove a hornet’s nest from your garage by burning it out; you will wind up with half a garage and a hornet’s nest.

If Mike Tingley of Grand Blanc Township, Michigan, had read that blog post maybe this wouldn’t have happened:

garage fire

“That’ll take care of those bees.”

“The homeowner was doing something with a smoke bomb trying to get a bees nest out of the garage,” said Grand Blanc Fire Chief, Bob Burdette.

Mr. Tingley, while upset his garage has burned to the ground, is happy the bees are gone.

Mr. Tingley’s neighbor, whose garage is now the home for the bees in question and whose own house suffered a great deal of smoke damage, had the following to say about the incident: Mike’s always been a #$@$%@# idiot.

“We’ll be staying on high alert,” Fire Chief Burdette commented. “Evidently Mr. Tingley has 20 gallons of gasoline, a blowtorch, and a plan for getting rid of the carpenter ants infesting his front porch.”

The Fire Chief then paused for a moment before adding, “I certainly hope none of his children ever contract head lice.”

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A Promise of Continued Dreck

drooling smiley

I was recently asked if I ever get writer’s block.

Of course I don’t; it’s what’s great about having a blog as stupid as this one: I can write whatever nonsensical gibberish pops into my head.

Take for example, the following passage from a post about phobias:

Walloonphobia: the fear of Walloons. Walloons can burst at any moment making a loud popping sound and startling you.
(My apologies, I thought this was the fear of balloons. Walloons are the French-speaking population of Belgium; it’s perfectly normal to be startled when Walloons burst and make a loud popping noise.)

What kind of stupid scattered brain comes up with that?

I’ve worked very hard to set a low a standard as possible for this blog while still forming semi-coherent sentences.

But it hasn’t been just my hard work and dedication responsible for the ridiculously substandard tangle of words before you. I’ve been genetically blessed with an extended family of what could be described generously as complete imbeciles.

Aunts, uncles, and cousins so completely and impenetrably stupid, there was really no way for it to not to filter to me. Even as I’m typing this, I’m drooling uncontrollably and I have peed myself because can’t remember how to use the bathroom.

Have you ever seen a tree with most of its branches rotting and riddled with an infectious disease. A disease so heinous the tree needs to be cut down, chopped into bits, burned, and its ashes buried in a deep hole under three feet of reinforced concrete, just to preserve the rest of forest.

That tree is healthy compared to our family tree–we wish we were that tree. Sometimes we’ll get together, drool on ourselves, pee ourselves, and scrapbook about how much we wish we were that diseased tree.

I will give you this assurance: I long as I am authoring this blog it will remain awful. And if you should happen to run into any of my aunts or uncles, give them a hardy thank you.

But don’t touch them–they tend to be sticky.

tree disease

We wish we were this tree.

The High School Guidance Counselor and Some Disturbing News

“I’ve been reviewing your records.”

Counselor: Well, it’s your senior year, and it’s about time that you started to think about your future, specifically in regards to a career. I’ve reviewed your transcript, gone over your aptitude test scores, and I have spoken with some of your teachers. I seem to be running into a bit of a problem.

You: What exactly is the problem?

Counselor: You’re qualified to do nothing and you’re irretrievably stupid.

You: That seems kind of harsh.

Counselor: I’m sorry. I suppose your entire life, your parents have told you that you’re smart and capable?

You: Of course they have.

Counselor: People lie don’t they? I have never encountered anyone so ill-equipped to enter the workforce in all my years of being a guidance counselor, and this school is full of stupid kids. Sometimes in think there’s lead in the drinking water.

You: You’re exaggerating, I can’t be that hopeless.

Counselor: Am I? In mathematical aptitude, you answered correctly only 25% of the time.

You: One out three isn’t that bad.

Counselor: Exactly my point. In your English essay you seem to have confused Angie Dickinson with Emily Dickinson.

You: No I didn’t.

Counselor: Let’s see what it was that you wrote? Here it is: Emily Dickinson was smoking hot in Big Bad Mama.

You: I don’t remember writing that.

Counselor: You have terrible memory skills.

You: That’s not fair.

Counselor: And a delusional perception of fairness.

You: But…I…

Counselor: You also have trouble completing a thought. Moving on to geography; you couldn’t find Chile on a map.

You: That can’t be that uncommon.

Counselor: It was a map of Chile.

You: I thought it meant the restaurant.

Counselor: You mean Chili’s, I doubt you could find your way through the children’s maze on their placemats.

You: Yes I can, I always use the green crayon.

Counselor: You also seem to have absolutely no grasp of economics or government.

You: I know a little about government.

Counselor: You listed the three branches of government as strawberry, vanilla and chocolate.

You: Neapolitan government.

Counselor: You took a course on New York State history didn’t you?

You: Yes I did.

Counselor: Yes you did. You listed the state capitol as Albania. You claimed that the Erie Canal was named thusly, because it was “really spooky.” And you listed the first mayor of New York City as Babe Ruth.

You: It wasn’t Babe Ruth?

Counselor: No. It was Lou Gehrig.

You: Really?

Counselor: NO YOU MORON, it was Thomas Willett. This next one is especially perplexing: under state bird you put Bigfoot. I find that disturbing for at least fifteen different reasons. I’ve come up with four categories of jobs that I believe you could handle. They are as follows:

  1. Jobs requiring  a shovel: digging ditches, digging graves, digging holes in general, and whomping rats.
  2. Jobs requiring a pitchfork: moving piles of hay, moving piles of straw, and joining angry mobs that are hunting rogue monsters.
  3. Jobs requiring a shovel and a pitchfork: moving horse manure, moving cow manure, moving goat manure, basically moving any type of manure.
  4. Jersey Shore cast member. Sorry that’s been cancelled–you probably couldn’t find New Jersey on a map anyway.

You: I don’t know. I find that shovels and pitchforks are complicated and difficult to use, and sweating gives me a rash.

Counselor: There is one other job. Would you be willing to scale steep cliffs and harvest honey, while angry bees sting you repeatedly?

You: There would be no manure or feces involved?

Counselor: Not unless you’re horribly afraid of heights.

You: I’ll do it.

Counselor: Welcome to the world of Himalayan Bee Keeping.

You: Is it close to home?

Counselor: With your map skills it is.

Another guidance counseling success story.

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