Beautiful Weather Insults My Intelligence

Today is a beautiful day.  I think I’ll stay inside.

Beautiful day

Today is a beautiful day! (Photo credit: David Hagwood)

Today is a beautiful day.  The sun is shining.  My computer chair is very comfortable.

Today is a beautiful day.  The pond has come alive with frogs and turtles and ducks.  I think I’ll cook something.

Today is a beautiful day.  The pond water is warm and the children splash around playfully.  The mosquitoes have arrived!

Today is a beautiful day.  Mother Nature has a sense of humor.  The pharmacist has drugs.  My lemonade is tasty.

Today was a beautiful day.  My computer protected me from mosquitoes.   (The technology has no bugs.)

Tomorrow will be a beautiful day.  It will be cool.  It will be cloudy.  The noisy children will be at home with their mosquito bites.  I will have the pond to myself.

Girl Scouts Insult My Intelligence

I’ve been struggling for the past several weeks.  You see, I came up with a better idea for my last post right after publishing it.  The problem is, my “better idea” will be even harder for people to stomach than “Dead Puppies Insult My Intelligence.”  In the interest of artistic freedom and general bad taste, I have decided to publish that other idea now.  If you are capable of being offended, please do not read any further.

Since these girls are no longer girls, I guess the image is safe to use here.  (For copyright information, go here.)

Since these girls are no longer girls, I guess the image is safe to use here. (For copyright information, go here.)

The following is a public service announcement from the writer of this blog.

If you or your loved ones happen to discover the flattened carcass of a girl scout lying on the road, please do not touch, eat, or otherwise disturb it.  God put roadkill on this earth so that the flies and vultures might prosper, for He loves the smallest and ugliest creatures on this earth as much as He adores the cute little girl scout.  The car that squished the girl scout is an instrument of His will.

God Bless Chrysler.

In keeping with the girl scout’s theological purpose, please wait for the county’s professional sanitation workers to properly dispose of her.  It is government’s proper role to serve as God’s right hand and clean up the mess He occasionally makes, no matter the odor you must endure while waiting, no matter how many children start weeping upon seeing the dead girl scout, no matter whether the girl scout would have consented to being part of this spiritually bureaucratic undertaking.

And while you wait, please be so kind as to remove the girl scout’s poo from the sidewalk.  It is unpleasant to look at.

Moral of the story: Most shocking blog posts can be made even more cringe-inducing by replacing the main character with a girl scout.

Dead Puppies Insult My Intelligence

The following is a public service announcement from the writer of this blog.

If you or your loved ones happen to discover the flattened carcass of a puppy lying on the road, please do not touch, eat, or otherwise disturb it.  God put roadkill on this earth so that the flies and vultures might prosper, for He loves the smallest and ugliest creatures on this earth as much as He adores the cute little puppy.  The car that squished the puppy is an instrument of His will.

God Bless Chrysler.

In keeping with the puppy’s theological purpose, please wait for the county’s professional sanitation workers to properly dispose of her.  It is government’s proper role to serve as God’s right hand and clean up the mess He occasionally makes, no matter the odor you must endure while waiting, no matter how many children start weeping upon seeing the dead puppy, no matter whether the puppy would have consented to being part of this spiritually bureaucratic undertaking.

And while you wait, please be so kind as to remove the puppy’s poo from the sidewalk.  It is unpleasant to look at.

No dead puppies to see here.  Please move along.  (Image credit: Adam Gerard)

No dead puppies to see here. Please move along. (Image credit: Adam Gerard)

Christmas Trees Insult My Intelligence

Christmas should be every day, sort of.  (Photo credit: Mount Pleasant Granary)

Christmas should be every day, sort of. (Photo credit: Mount Pleasant Granary)

I came home last night to find a festive bundle of decaying holiday joy shining through the window of my neighbor’s house.

Too many punchlines come to mind.

Because of this, I would like to wish everyone a Merry March Madness and present a list of the top ten reasons you finally need to get rid of that Christmas tree:

10- Unlike the lovely holiday sweaters you received, you can’t regift the tree without investing a lot of time and money into the effort.

9- If you wanted to arrange dried pieces of firewood so that they could achieve inferno status in minimum time, you couldn’t do much better than to build a Christmas tree shape.  And by the way, the warranty on those lights you bought in December has expired.

8- In December, you said “we shouldn’t let secular distractions infringe on a religious holiday.”  Now that Easter is coming, I’d like to return the favor.  We’re all going to notice your tree and not your religious exhortations.  (On the other hand, maybe the tree can last a few weeks longer…)

7- The electricity company’s Christmas special is no longer running.

6- Unlike the frankenturkey, your tree cannot be revived.

5- What fun is a Christmas tree if it no longer has needles for you to clean off of the floor?

4- That’s not penicillin growing at the base and your dog will get sick if he decides it’s tasty.

3- You could shove the top of that tree up an angel’s underside because the angel isn’t real.  Your pet rabbit is getting worried that you’ll try to change the tree’s theme for Easter.  Expect a revolt.

2- That is a tree, not a bush.  If you wish to display political advertisements for Jeb, this is one of the few methods that makes you look less intelligent than the Tea Partiers.  At least the Tea Partiers recycled their trees.

1- No one is bringing you any gifts.  Get over it.

Boot Camp Insults My Intelligence

I recently had the opportunity to visit an old friend at the military base where he’s stationed.  Since I’m somewhat above the maximum weight limit to join the forces, no recruitment attempts were made in spite of my unemployed status.

Realistically, I would have declined if I had been asked.  The odds of me making it through boot camp are exactly zero.  Come to think of it, the odds of me making it through any remedial physical fitness training before boot camp are also zero.

And even if I made it through, I’m rather clumsy.  I’m the guy who would slip on a rock and accidentally drop his gun, which in turn would fire while conveniently pointed at someone else’s head.

Putting me in the military would be a horrible idea.

Almost.

You see, this is what most people imagine when they think of military training and work:

I bet he's running after ISIS.  (Photo is in public domain.)

I bet he’s running after ISIS. (Photo is in public domain.)

And this is what I see a lot of on base every time I go:

Okay, maybe I didn't see Slovenian soldiers.  But the guy is sitting on his butt doing work.  Close enough.  (Photo credit: Carol A Lehman)

Okay, maybe I don’t see Slovenian soldiers. But the guy is sitting on his butt doing work. Close enough. (Photo credit: Carol A Lehman)

Now, I’m not stupid.  I understand that the military occasionally needs soldiers to do physically grueling work in combat zones and those soldiers need appropriate training to do that work.  However, do soldiers really need any remote level of physical fitness to fire missiles from drones while sitting at a distant computer center?

When gays were banned from the military, Americans often heard complaints of critical skills being excluded from the force because their owners had a certain taste in sex.  Even though sex was irrelevant to the job.  And now, people are being excluded from the force because they have a certain taste in food even though the resulting girth would no longer hinder many soldiers from doing their jobs properly.

The U.S. military is outdated.  Fat people skills are state of the art; moreover, diversity in body type ought to be celebrated for the unique contributions each body is able to make.

Just make sure that larger soldiers aren’t put on the front lines.  We would make easy targets…

Misogyny Insults My Intelligence

black heart

Pink is for losers. (Image credit: scutajar)

Dear Dr. Bumblepuppy,

We wish to express our utmost gratitude for gracing our restaurant with your presence on Valentine’s Day.  However, we regret to inform you that your little princess is no longer welcome at our establishment.  That wench exuded womanly noise from the moment you exited your car, and not in a fun way.  Yelling, screaming, wailing, tears flooding her make-up and creating a mess for our janitors.  We have never heard anyone insult our staff, our food, and our existence so much as she did; she will be lucky if our other patrons do not sue her for ruining their romantic evening with her “vocal talents,” as you so euphemistically described her screeching.

In closing, we wish you a swift recuperation from the injuries you incurred on our premises.  The hot coffee in your face and the knee in your crotch were most assuredly not deserved.  The average dog has more respect for men and the culinary arts than that thing you call a woman.  We hope you will consider saving yourself further physical, psychological, and financial torture by dumping the broad.

With warmest regards,

Matthew G. Thomas
Manager, White Castle
1106 Old Myers Bridge Avenue

Do Absentee Stories Insult My Intelligence?

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This post from 2013 seems especially relevant to current discussions about Islam.  In case you’re wondering about the extraneous material, I originally wrote this as a follow-up piece for:
https://bumblepuppies.wordpress.com/2013/12/06/excessive-adornment-insults-my-intelligence/
Warning to my regular readers: this is not humorous.

Bumblepuppies

If you follow this blog, you may remember this grand photo I posted with no explanation not too long ago:

grand

I’ll discuss the photograph relatively soonish, I think.

In the meantime, I’d like to tell you about a book I’ve been reading: “My Name is Red” by the Turkish author Orhan Pamuk.  Aside from the novel’s murder mystery aspect, it includes a lot of Islamic philosophy on art… specifically drawing.   And as far as I can tell, it incorporates an Islamic traditionalist point of view. (Yes, other perspectives are included.)  Considering all the death threats made against artists and authors who depict Muhammad, I found this novel extraordinarily relevant to today’s world.

That’s in spite of the novel’s 16th century setting.

(Caveat: I have relatively little knowledge about Islam.  Since the author won a Nobel, I trust that his representation is reasonably accurate and relevant.  I apologize if I am…

View original post 422 more words

Sweet Dreams Insult My Intelligence

I got drunk on holiday spirit yesterday and had a wild dream last night.

Imagine a woman, completely naked but with none of her fun parts showing.  (I  keep things clean and tasteful even while I sleep.  Too bad…)  The lady suffers from some sort of skin condition, as I can see slits covering her entire body; they most closely resemble fish gills.

After taking a moment to examine this lovely specimen, it’s time to play a game of Risk.  Lines appear across the body and I start choosing the territories I desire.  Contrary to expectation, I take real estate in the shoulder and arm region.

Of course, I am not playing alone.  I can’t see my opponents but I do have to signal each time my turn ends.  One spot on the woman’s body has been designated as the chess clock.  You know the procedure in tournament chess, don’t you?  Same thing here.  After taking my turn, I have to press the territory located on the upper inside thigh.  There’s a lot of reaching and groping involved, but again nothing beyond a PG rating.  I find myself wishing that my dream could enter the grown-up realm.

My wish is granted, sort of.  Once the body has been divvied up, large pieces of broken glass suddenly appear in the slits across her body.  Strangely, this causes no pain but perhaps some discomfort… and my game board starts moving as though she wants to stand up.

You know what?  When inserted in your skin, broken glass causes tremendous pain when you’re not lying completely still.

She doesn’t get far.

And so:

Screaming.  Screaming.  Screaming.

And no blood.  Wait a minute… no blood?

I wake up.

I walk to my window and discover the midnight sky glittering like a million shards of glass in the body of a heavenly goddess.

A thing of beauty is a joy forever.  (Public domain)

A thing of beauty is a joy forever. (Public domain)

The Twelfth Day of Christmas Insults My Intelligence

Here it is, the final day of our Christmas fun.  May you all have an enjoyable holiday that is free from injury, death, and bad music.  May you emerge from this season with piles of expensive presents that you can sell to fund something for me.

Now… let’s get on with the show.

The twelfth thing at Christmas that has insulted me:


Twelve angry zombies

 

Eleven acts of Congress

(Photo credit: Architect of the Capitol)

Unfortunately for the zombies, they found no brains to eat at the Capitol.   (Photo credit: Architect of the Capitol)

Ten breast enhancements

(Photo credit: Shira Gal)

The zombies were smart because they realized that breast cancer survivors are the only boobjob recipients with brains.  It’s just another of the disease’s lethal side effects.  (Photo credit: Shira Gal)

Nine smelly reindeer

(Photo credit: Keven Law)

Reindeer brains are too small, so the zombies went in search of larger prey.  (Photo credit: Keven Law)

Eight vegan cookies

(Photo credit: veganchicksrock)

The zombies were even less amused with the cookies than the not-so-undead were.  (Photo credit: veganchicksrock)

Seven cancelled flights

(Photo credit for original: Allen Skyy)

Picture it: thousands of brain-toting people trapped in a snow-covered airport.   (Photo credit for original: Allen Skyy)

Six sixes sixing

Because Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, and Christmas are too culturally exclusive, the local Satanist Temple has registered a new holiday: Satan’s Solstice.  Although the solstice part has some historical legitimacy, it’s just not politically correct to exclude a contemporary religious belief system from the naming convention.

Being undead, Zombies aren’t really tempted by contemporary Satanism.

Five drunk fratboys

Pickled brains also taste good. (Arthur Browne created this image. Art likes monkeys, probably because he claims to be a monkey. You can see more monkeys on his blog, Pouring My Art Out.)

Four weeks of church

f

The local Zombie Commission has been invited to partake of the Body and Blood of Christ so that you may see that His flesh is truly present before you.   Brain wafer, anyone?  (Thanks to James O’Neil at Memories of a Time for providing the image.  He also did the glasswork.)

 

Three Santas

(Photo credit: Josh Roulston)

If we’re lucky, one of them will survive long enough to deliver presents.  (Photo credit: Josh Roulston)

Two tacky gifts

(Photo credit for original: Richard Huber)

Hey Mr. Zombie!  Is that a pickle in your pocket or are you just happy to see my brain?  (Photo credit for original: Richard Huber)

And the kid who wants a large breed

(Photo credit: Steve Harris)

So THAT’S why she wanted the tiger.  Smart kid.   (Photo credit: Steve Harris)

Blogger’s note: This was the 12th installment of a 12 part series.  All photos had new captions in each post, so you missed a lot if you only saw this post.  For all earlier posts in this series, click on the “twelve days of Christmas” link below.