Woefully Inadequate Preparation

Woefully Inadequate Preparation

Useless knowledge when you’re about to be cut.

This occurred while I was working as a quality control inspector at a steel coating plant near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I was sitting at my desk filling out paperwork–paperwork that I’m sure was vital to the daily functioning of the plant, and not be interrupted–when the crane operator, Jim, burst into the office.

“We have a problem,” he barked.

Jim tended to have problems more days than not. Urgent problems. Urgent problems of all varieties. (I could tell it was urgent because Jim was using his urgent voice. His urgent voice was similar to his whiny voice, but an octave higher.)

I looked around the office to discover I was the only one there. Crap.

“Houston,” I said to him.

“What?”

“When you burst into a room to exclaim that you have a problem, you’re supposed to say, ‘Houston, we have a problem.'”

“But we’re not in Houston.”

Note: nobody gets me.

“Never mind. What’s the problem?” I asked with genuinely feigned interest.

“Look at this,” he said as he shoved his phone at me. It was a picture of some temp workers standing outside on a smoke break.

“It’s a picture of some temp workers standing outside on a smoke break.” I said.

“You don’t see the problem?” He was incredulous.

“The threat of emphysema?”

“Look closer.” He shoved the phone at me again.

“Okay. They’re all smoking cigarettes, except for that little guy who seems to be holding…a crack pipe.”

“So you understand the problem now?”

“He’s not sharing with the others?”

“This is serious,” he snapped.

“Selfishness is a serious problem, Jim,” I admonished him.

“I can’t be operating a crane out there with people running around all hopped up on drugs.”

“Do people still use the phrase hopped up?”

“Are you going to do something or not?”

To find out if I did anything....http://idiotprufs.com/

Taglines and more Taglines

Taglines and more Taglines

Because they haunt your dreams.

“Striving every day to do the least idiotic thing possible, generally failing.”

 

The above statement has been the tagline of this blog since its inception–sadly, it’s also been the guiding principle of my life–but it feels as if it’s time for a change. (For the tagline, my life’s a irreparable heap.)

So I’ve decided to try out a few alternatives:

idiotprufs: what happens when you don’t listen to that nagging little voice in your head.

idiotprufs: read by four out of five drunken monkeys-written by the fifth.

idiotprufs: the blog that is wanted by the authorities for questioning.

idiotprufs: just do it. (Evidently the people at Nike think they own everything.)

idiotprufs: the blog that got so drunk last night, it can’t remember anything it did.

idiotprufs: the last blog you will ever read…after you’ve stabbed your eyes out with a shrimp fork
.
idiotprufs: the blog that makes my friends deny they know me.

idiotprufs: the reason most of my family no longer speaks to me. (I wish I had started it sooner.)

idiotprufs: the reason I’ve been burned in effigy by Bolivian pudding makers.

idiotprufs: reading it will make your breath perpetually minty fresh.

idiotprufs: the blog labeled a bitter disappointment by its parents.

idiotprufs: the blog that was a banana slug in a previous life.

Read the rest...

Head Wounds, Deer Semen and Fear: A Famliy Reunion

Head Wounds, Deer Semen and Fear: A Famliy Reunion

You’re not related to these men, you should be so lucky.

So you think your family reunions are miserable?

I’m referring to those occasions that include grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, creatures who claim to be cousins, but who you could swear are really albino trolls, in-laws, out-laws, felons, significant others, insignificant others, the cast of that creepy movie The Others.

Do you have that one guy who doesn’t seem to belong with any particular family, but always shows up around the holidays. He wears an eye-patch, has a peg leg, and refers to everyone as Matey.

Does the mere act of thinking about your family make you sweat profusely and vomit a little in your mouth?

Does your calendar have the date of your family reunion circled with the word, Armageddon, written across it in blood?

Do you equate spending the day with the extended family with that disturbing dentist/torture scene from Marathon Man?

When you’re with your family, do you wish you could trade places with Dustin Hoffman’s character?
Did you get all the way to the closing credits of The Hills Have Eyes before you realized it wasn’t a home movie?

Do you read Oliver Twist and think: lucky bastard?

Read the rest here....

Bees and Calligraphy

Bees and Calligraphy

In my spare time I like to improve my yodeling.

First a few personal facts regarding the differences between bees and calligraphy:

1. I have never been stung in the face by calligraphy.
2. I have never gotten a D on an art project written in bee.

Good things about bees:

1. If you don’t happen to have any Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants, Africanized killers bees will work in a pinch.
2. It is hysterical when a bee stings a mime.
3. Pollination. Bees pollinate a vast array of plants, helping to propagate many types of fruits and flowers. I’m also pretty sure Donald Trump’s hair is some sort of hive.
4. They make honey, that sweet nectar byproduct without which Pooh bear would have never gotten his head caught in a honey pot, in that adorable image by A. A. Milne.  If it weren’t for that image, I’d have nothing tattooed to my left butt cheek.

Good things about calligraphy:

1. Because of calligraphy, nib manufacturing is still a thriving business in Bangladeshian sweat shops.
2. Without calligraphy wedding invitations would have to be written in silly fonts.
3. Anything written in calligraphy looks super classy; like William Shakespeare threw up on a piece of paper. (It’s how the entire first act of Much Ado About Nothing was written.)

Read the rest here....

Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants

The Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ant. How would like to get a package of these?

In a recent post, But Seriously, I described of my use of Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants when dealing with critics. When I receive criticism I feel is unwarranted, I drop a package in the mail to the criticizer. The package contains a colony of the ants in question. The label on the package reads: shake roughly before opening. (The only thing Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants hate more than critics is to be shaken roughly.)

Note: For criticism to reach the Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ant level, it has to really hurt my feelings; if I exhale a feeble whimper followed by a pained, why, upon receiving the criticism, you’re getting ants in the mail.

It would seem there some people out there who don’t believe that Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants are real. People who all suddenly seem to be experts on Amazonian wildlife and entomology. People who say they’ve done their own research and can’t find any evidence of the existence of such an insect.

Hey people, Google doesn’t know everything.

These people claim that no self-respecting taxonomist would give an ant such a silly name.

Things are often given weird or inappropriate names. Have you ever seen a person and immediately thought to yourself: that person’s parents misnamed him; his name should be Rat-Bastard Morgan instead of Piers.

Note: My deepest apologies to Piers Morgan and his family, that was entirely uncalled for, but I really like that joke.

They also say that ants don’t sting: they bite.

Nature provides us with many oddities and exceptions: mammals don’t lay eggs, but the duck-billed platypus does. Birds don’t swim under water, but penguins do. Humans don’t shed their skin like snakes, but Hugh Hefner does. The list goes on and on.

Note: No apologies for Hef: he’s a reptile.


Let’s say for the sake of argument, the name Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants, is in fact a product of my fertile if not slightly warped mind.

Read the rest here...

Dumbass Bacon Photos!

Bacon.

Enough said.

READ THE REST.....

Guest Post at Pixie C D! Bad Idea of the Day: I'm Not Graduating So I'll Call in a Bomb Threat to the College!

Hey, Y'all! Chris Dean at Pixie C D has invited me to destroy her blogging cred by asking me to write a guest post!

Here we are at the end of May.

Birds are singing, gardens are in the ground and college students around the country will soon be departing their Institutions of Higher Learning to leave their marks on the world.

And by "leave their marks on the world" I naturally mean "enter rehab". 

Or make bomb threats.

Sadly, bomb threats are fairly common today, even in the most unexpected of places - like Chinese airports and Guacamole Schools. 

And college graduations.

Let me splain.

Read the rest at pixie c d !!!!! <---Click here

Veterans Fondly Remembered

This is my Memorial Day post from a year ago. I’m re-posting it for three specific reasons:

1. It’s appropriate for Memorial Day weekend.
2. For my critics who believe this blog isn’t serious enough, it’s the one semi-serious post I’ve written. (Don’t worry, there’s still humor in there.)
3. Unapologetic laziness.

Years ago I worked at an American Legion post. I met a lot of people during my time there. Some of them were ordinary people, some were interesting, some were bizarre and some were bizarrely interesting.

One of the more interesting people was Jack.

Jack constantly spoke in non sequiturs. At first I thought that he was simply hard of hearing, but I began to realize there was a thread of continuity in the things he was saying. His conversations would go off in seemingly weird and irrelevant tangents, but they generally seemed to make it back to their original points.

I’ve often wished that I had written some of them down, unfortunately I have the foresight of a mole and the hindsight of an eagle.

Here are some of my favorites that I can remember:

Jack: I remember when I paid only ten dollars a week for rent.

Other patron: We don’t live in the fifties anymore Jack.

Jack: What! (slamming his fist against the bar in indignation) I haven’t ridden a bicycle in years.
Other patron: What does riding a bicycle have to do with rent?

Jack: I’d rather pay for my truck insurance than ride a bicycle.

Other patron: Okay?

Jack: I can barely afford to pay my for rent and my truck insurance.

Or this one:

Dumbass Babysitting Photos!

Babysitting Dumbassery

Merriam - Webster Says So

Texting While Stoopid

Read the rest.....

But Seriously

You’re just not serious enough.

My blog has recently received a criticism that I feel necessitates a response.

Note: when I write that my blog has received a criticism, what I mean is I’m choosing to focus on one criticism from the myriad of criticisms I have been inundated with. Criticisms of a variety and amount, they compel the use of the words myriad and inundate.

I have a meticulously constructed an eight step process for dealing with criticism.

1. Dismiss it initially with a forced chuckle.
2. Allow it to slowly creep back into my thoughts.
3. Push it to the dark recesses of my brain where it will exist as a tiny glowing ember.
4. Consciously ignore the fact that the glowing ember is growing into a substantial blaze.
5. Remain in a state of denial as the blaze turns into a raging inferno.
6. White-hot seething rage.
7. I suddenly realize that I’m just being silly and relax.
8. The next day I drop a package in the mail to the criticizer. The package contains a colony of Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants. The label on the package reads: shake roughly before opening.

Note: Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants hate to be shaken; they especially hate to be shaken roughly.

What was the criticism that triggered this post?

This blog isn’t serious enough.

Ridiculous. Here are some of the serious topics this blog has tackled:

Click here to find out what these serious topics are....

Last Chance to Shop for Mom: Dumbass Gift Giving Guide!

If you are waiting until the last minute to get Mom "something special" for Mothers Day, be sure to consult the Dumbass Guide to Mothers Day Gifts!

Part Uno is here.

Part Too is here.

Dumbasses.

A Dumbass Mothers Day Favorite for 3 Years Running!

Drunk Dumbass Goes On Midget-Tossing Rampage!

Physically speaking, I am a small man.

Some Dumbasses would say the same about my mental capabilities and character too.

The ones who carry these ludicrous thoughts around with themselves are either

• 1) Liberals or
• 2) Those who wish to dethrone me as The Fearless Leader of the Dumbass Horde.

Let me tell you sons of motherless goats in Group 2 that it ain't gonna happen.

As far as Liberals go, I ain't skeered of a bunch of sissies who want to turn the USA into Fwance. What a perfect match. The Fwench wouldn't fight to save their own mothers and Liberals won't work to save their own mothers. Knowing that, I'm pretty sure that my reign as The Fearless Leader of the Dumbass Horde is safe.

Read the rest......

Stoopid Bumper Stickers!

T.G.I.F.!

Me too. 

See more Dumbass Bumper Stickers Here

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

A few weeks ago this cluster of search terms appeared on my stats page.

Several random thoughts immediately leapt into my brain.

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?
• 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 that “punch an idiot in the face day” does not exist.

Bitter disappointment.

Then I had another thought: just because something isn’t, doesn’t mean it can’t be.

Read my solution here....

Giant Sucking Sound: Dumbass Siphons Sewage, Not Gas, From R V!

It is for the newer Dumbasses that I bring back one of the funniest (and most popular!) stories in the History of Dumbass News!

Read the rest here.....

Funny Animal Hospital Signs!

I know that many members of The Dumbass Horde are lovers of a vast array of God's Little Critters. 

But I am not here today to write about children.

Or midgets. 

I am specifically referring to creatures of a four-legged, reptilian or piscatorial nature. Note: my favorite Dumbass News story is about the New Years Eve Possum Drop in North Carolina.

Usually when I write about animals, it's just to piss of the meth heads at PETA. 

However, today I am extending an olive branch to the meth heads at PETA by bringing us all (non-meth head non-PETA members & meth head PETA members alike) together with something each of us has in common with the other - a love of animals.

I like my animals medium rare, PETA likes theirs virgin.

Well....not exactly animals per se, rather with humorous signs that have been spotted in front of veterinary clinics across the Fruited Plain. 

What say you, PETA? Can we bury the hatchet?

Preferably smack dab in the middle of your mush-filled skulls!

Bwahahahahahahahahaha!

On that happy note........

Welcome to The First Ever Edition of Dumbass Animal Hospital Signs!

Read the rest.....

Dumbass Does Drugs, Sets Self on Fire, Puts Fire Out in Car Wash! But, Wait, There's More!

Before I get into today's story, I'd like to thank pixie c d, aka, Chris Dean, for yesterday's hilarious guest post. It was one of the most popular Guest Posts in the History of Dumbass News! If you have any more (and I know you do!) Dumbassery to share with the Dumbass Horde, Chris, you are more than welcome to further embarrass yourself on this blog at any time.

Also, a huge shout out to all of Chris' readers at pixie c d for taking time to come over, read Chris' post and leave some terrific comments. I hope y'all will stop by again.

I have traveled to, through and/or lived in over 30 of the fifty States in the Union.

North Dakota fills none of those bills.

For the Yoopers in the audience, that means "I ain't never been there." 

Therefore, I don't know a helluva lot about The Dakota On Top.

I do, however, know that North Dakota is home to less than 750,000 people and the do a lot of oil bidness there.

There is a small town of about 18,000 North Dakota-ites, most of them White North Dakota-ites, named Mandan. I have never before heard of this burg.

Can You Show Me to the Nearest Car Wash, Please?

Until now.

Thanks to a Dumbass.

I'd like to thank David Kissee for this.

Let me splain.

Read the rest.....

Guest Post by Pixie C D, Chris Dean! "A Subconscious Bent Toward Serial Public Indecency"

 When Fearless Leader asked me if I’d like to share how much of a dumbass I am with y’all, I almost bounced outta my shorts with excitement! Of course, if you know me, you probably wouldn’t find that exactly out of the ordinary, considering I have a subconscious bent towards serial public indecency.

I Started Young

 It all started in my teens with The Summer of the Swimsuit. (Yeah, it was bad enough my family named it.) The suit in question was a modest one piece that I wore with great...oh, who cares. It was a perfectly modest swimsuit, right up until it made contact with water, turning the white spandex into a wet tissue paper wrapping.

 At least, that’s how it looked in every single picture from that summer. I still feel the need to crawl under a blanket and hide whenever I think about climbing the ladder to the high dive and the poor people in line behind (and under) me.

 I’m leaving the college years out of this, since there was alcohol involved. (Unless we’re talking about the times I stood on a friend’s roof and flashed the main drag during rush hour traffic. Which we’re not, so let’s just move on.)

Read the rest.....

Granny With Gun to Bad Guys: Get Outta That Car! But It's THEIR Car!

Best of Dumbass News

I can not attest as to the veracity of today's Dumbass News.

With this admission I know that I am in danger of losing in one fleeting moment what has taken me two and a half years and millions of words to earn - your trust. Then again, if you put your trust in me, you are dumber than a box of yak poop.

Gun Totin' Granny

Now, if my Grandmother were alive today, I would carefully examine this story for her name. Sadly, however, she went on the her Reward more than a decade ago. Therefore I am confident that the Little Old Lady in the story is not her - though it still wouldn't surprise me if it were her! She was, without a doubt, the strongest person I have ever met in my life. Not strong as in Hercules, but strong as in determined and ruthless.

All five foot-nothin', 90 pounds of her.

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Are You a Bank Robber? Use Underwear as a Mask!

Criminals are, by definition, Dumbasses.

Out of the billions of crimes committed around the world each day, when was the last time you heard of the "perfect crime"? Yeah, I know that against all odds some crooks get away with their crimes. The "not quite so perfect crimes" are ones where the bad guys get away with their misdeeds for a number of years, then one day the FBI knocks on their door and Freedom ain't so free any more.

I mean I can understand the fact that some idiot robs a 7-11 and gets away with it. Look at who works at a 7-11 these days - guys from Calcutta named "Bruce". No offense to guys from Calcutta named Bruce, but sometimes these fellows are new to our country and things between them and the cops can get lost in the translation. Kind of like Tech Support at AOL.

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