WHAT’S green and red and white and green and red and white and green and red and white? A Christmas Frog in a Blender! Get it? Frog? Santa hat? Blender? Okay, so maybe we’re the only ones who think we’re funny, but guess what? We don’t care, because we’re the only ones writing this intro. But, that, of course, is beside the point. The point, which just ran off with your sense of humor, is that The Holidays bring out the best and worst in us. So forget what we just said about Christmas Frogs — in blenders or otherwise — and join us in welcoming our Very Good and Funny Friend, THE FROGSTER, who has seen fit to bless us with a Holiday Themed Post. That said, we could care less if YOU actually enjoy what he’s written, because WE did, and as you know by now, that’s all that matters. That said, trust us, The Frogster is a wonderfully clever writer — and we Strongly Urge you all to take a peek at his blog, if you’ve yet to do so. We can’t say for sure, but we’re guessing there’s a fruitcake in it for you, if you DON’T. ~snuppy
A FRUITCAKE SAVED MY CHRISTMAS TONIGHT
The Frogster here. I hope everyone is enjoying the last few weeks of 2007. Beth and I had a bit of a tiff when she discovered a piece of tinsel on my shirt and accused me of having an affair with a Christmas Fairy, but we seem to have put that behind us.
The holidays. A time for cheer and good wishes and generosity and kindness and volunteering and love and peace and singing and companionship. Fine and wonderful things. The holiday season, however, also has a horrible dark side. This dark side is the unseemly yet pervasive attitude running rampant through our culture that it is okay to take all of our holiday stress out on that most misunderstood and unappreciated of holiday confections. That’s right, I’m talking about the Manna of Midwinter, the Delicacy of December, the Wonder of the Winter Solstice. Fruit cake. Fruit cake is as vital to the survival of our holiday traditions as the blazing Christmas light show that our neighbors leave on all night with accompanying carols coming out of a speaker turned to the “Sonic Boom” volume setting.
It is my fondest hope that my neighbors’ speaker gets ice in it and explodes. It is my second fondest hope that, with a little illumination, I can help you to understand why you must stop this unjustified campaign of terror against The Almighty Fruit Cake.
Now, your might think your History of Christmas trivia is up to snuff with regard to the tradition of Kris Kringle, due to the TV special “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” (Interestingly, the first Christmas had to be cancelled due to a clerical error when Kris spent all night thinking he was supposed to come to “Twon” and couldn’t find it). The special left out a few critical details, however, due to the need to tighten it up in order to fit it into the allotted time slot, which I will now pass along to you in an effort to make the world a better place.
Way back when, during the reign of the evil Burgermeister Meisterburger, a kindly old soul named Kris Kringle wanted to spread a little cheer during the dark days of deepest winter. We all know this. One of Kris’ more popular gifts was fruit, due to the fact that the only place that grew fruit back in those dark times was Italy, and the Mafia controlled the exportation of fruit with a bronze fist (this was before the secrets of iron working were revealed by Louis Casting). So only Kris, with his supersonic sled, could sneak in and retrieve the fruit.
After the “Twon” typo was corrected, the tradition went on just fine for a couple of years until Burgermeister Meisterburger discovered Kris’ treachery and hired fruit bats to patrol the sky on Christmas Eve (all this was in the original TV special but was later cut). When Kris would get close, the bats would descend on him like, well, like fruit bats after fruit. The fruit bats would decimate Kris’ sled and the children would be unhappy for the whole year. Mrs. Kringle, the grandmother of contraband, realized that if the fruit was encased in something the bats wouldn’t be able to detect it. So she baked some cakes and stuck the fruit inside. This worked well, though Kris had to make seven or eight trips, due to the fact that he could only fit so many cakes on his sled. Then one year, Mrs. Kringle remembered too late that she had run out of yeast. She made the cakes anyway, and it was an unexpected success. Kris could fit all the unrisen cakes on his sled and deliver every last bit of the fruit in one trip.
A rather underreported fact is that since all of the fruit had to be cut up to fit it into the slimmer cakes, the children’s fathers had to stay up all night putting the little pieces of fruit back together, thus starting another holiday tradition that continues to this day.
So, without the mighty fruit cake, there would be no such thing as Christmas. I hope that, armed with this knowledge, we can stop the rampant fruit cake bashing that makes for so much mean-spirited holiday cheer at this time of year. In fact, I’d like to institute National Fruit Cake Day, celebrated on December 29th, in rememberance of a missing cake ingredient leading to the glorious triumph over The Burgermeister’s army of Grinchlike Fruit Bats.
In preparation for National Fruit Cake Day, I’d like you all to go enjoy a piece of fruit cake today. I already have. In case you do not have any samples of this most delicious of holiday confections, due to your fruitcake prejudices, be sure you have some for next year. You can buy some after the holidays in the discount section of your local Mega Mart. Don’t worry, it will keep. In the meantime, I’ll have another piece, just to make up the difference. Happy Holidays!
I like my fruit cake with a little humor-blogs.com in it.
Holy smokes! Look who and/or what we found waiting for us in the queue when we logged in this morning. That’s right — another hilarious post from one of our NEW best friends and (hopefully) frequent contributor, JEFF — aka, Harmonica Man. Or, as we suddenly feel compelled to call him, Jefferonica, who’s decided to entitle the following exchange “Virgin Visions”, despite our recommendation to call it “Overheard From the Cloud”. It matters not, for verily we say unto thee (youse?) this post by any name is still mightily amusing. Watch out, Jefferonica, we could DEFINITELY get used to seeing your avatar around here (did we just say “get”. Hell, we already are). ~snuppy
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Pete: Hey G, what’s going on?
G: Not much, just having a little fun here.
Pete: Oh no, not that tired old Virgin Mary siting thing again. Isn’t that getting a little old?
G: Are you kidding? Look what I did this time!
G: That’s not necessarily true. No one set up a shrine when I made this.
G: Nope. But I am ashamed to claim responsibility for the idiots who bid on it. But hey, I’ve had a lot of fun with my Virgin Visions ©, especially the food series. I mean just look at these beauts…
G: Say what you want about them, but every one of these apparitions have drawn HUGE numbers. The pizza guy’s business quadrupled over night. You can’t tell me I’m not helping out the little guy here.
Pete: Fine, but who exactly is benefiting from a Virgin Mary water stain on a freeway underpass? I mean come on already.
G: Man, ye of little faith already – Jesus. Listen, you can ring the church bells, send people door-to-door, put fliers on windshields, do whatever you want and you STILL won’t gather as many believers as Our Lady of the Underpass did in Chicago.That’s there’s some powerful stuff, I don’t care who y’all are.
Pete: Fine, you win. I do have to admit though, this one was pretty cool.
Pete: You need to get a life.
The laughs are real at humor-blogs.com!
LOOK who we found hiding behind that cloud hanging over our heads — you guessed it, our good and very tall friend, HARMONICA MAN. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t so much a cloud over our heads as in our brains, but that’s beside the point. The point, which tried to rain on our thought parade, is this: after stressing over just how to follow BOBO‘s brilliant Fill-in Spin, we developed a world-class headache. Enter Jeff (aka Harmonica Man), a blogger we’ve been trying to get on the Snark team for quite some time. Finally, after much whining and/or offers to put his kids through college (assuming we can do that for about $3.50), he
caved agreed to help us out. Yay for Jeff. And yay for you, too, ‘cuz this guy’s not only tall enough to view the world from behind a cloud, he’s also flat out funny. ~snuppy
PS: Leaving happy comments may help convince young Jeff to come back again, sometime soon. Otherwise we might resort to trolling on Humor-blogs.com for help the next time our brain clouds up.
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So there I was sound asleep at 1:00 in the morning last Sunday when suddenly I felt something land on my chest. Startled awake, I sat straight up in my bed only to see a mouse running across my blankets and down over the side. Needless to say I was FREAKED!
Or so I thought.
Needed to say was that I was only dreaming that a mouse had landed on my chest, which caused me to sit up and think I was seeing it skitter away. But to me it was all too real and just about gave me a heart attack.
Eventually I calmed down and went back to sleep. But only until 4:00 when I dreamed once again that mice were dropping through a hole in my ceiling and filling up a box that was suspended over my bed. BUT – since the box had gotten full, the damn thing was overflowing with mice which were spilling out and falling on me while I slept. Nice.
Ok, before you call the “special police”, I’m pretty sure I have an explanation for these recurring nightmares…
That’s right. Billed as the “most humane” way to catch mice, this live trap allows several mice to be captured at once. Which is true. Because I used it. And it works.
You see a few weeks ago we found evidence of mice running around in our garage and decided they needed to be “relocated.” We chose this live trap because it seemed like the perfect solution. You simply gather them up in this nice little box, take them out to the woods and let them go. No more spring traps full of mice with broken necks and brains coming out of their mouths (which I’ve seen unfortunately).
Sure enough I wound up the neat live trap and put it on my workbench and the next morning there he was, one cute little mouse standing on his back legs and looking out of the plastic window. “Bingo! This thing works great!” I thought. But still I wanted to get a few more before I took the time to convert our city mice into country mice.
And then… the next morning we had another one! I was thrilled. At this rate we would have the whole McMouse family in a few days. And so I let it sit another night.
But the next morning something went horribly wrong. One of the mice had died overnight (or had been murdered) and the other one was on top of him and gnawing on his back. It was disgusting and I couldn’t bear to look at it for more than a second, so I just left him there to deal with later – except that “later” just happened to end up being about a week, at which point the only thing left in the box was one dead cannibal rodent from Hell and another dried up mouse-pelt rug. Oh yeah, this trap was a GREAT idea.
Needless to say, I won’t be quite so compassionate next time. After this it’s mouse brains all the way. Go ahead, call PETA – I don’t give a shit. This guy needs to get some sleep!
~Jeff (aka Harmonica Man)
Mickey Mouse left a juicy “surprise” for Jeff at Humor-blogs.com.
LOOK who showed up to help a vacationing and/or “getting kids ready for school” frazzled-yet-fabulous DJ LAMPSHA out with a Saturday Spin?? That’s right, BOBO. But not just any BoBo, mind you… a Birthday BoBo. A Birthday BoBo Banjoey. On the first day of the month! And you know what that means, don’t ya? Yeah, we don’t either. Oh shut up, we’re kidding! That means our own dear BoBo’s a whole year older and/or wiser, yet still
dumb sweet enough to do his loving wife a favor now and again, so she can have time to buy bake a fabulous cake! Heck, maybe even decorate it with candles, rabbit, rabbits, and stuff! Thank you for Spinning your own brand of musical magic today, BoBo… not only do you get better and are you more loved with each passing year, you totally rock! ~Snuppy (aka BoBo’s loving wife)
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This brings back memories of those long ago days of my youth when I briefly served as a top 40 DJ at a radio station in Hanford, California. Ah yes, those were the days…going to school, working nights at a department store, and racing 33 miles down the highway each Saturday and Sunday night after work to pull a 5 hour shift on the radio. I think I sounded something like this:
“That was the Bee Gees with How Deep is Your Love right here on KISS-FM… next up the Bay City Rollers with, yep, you guessed it…S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Night.” (and fade up music)
Believe you me, I was no threat to Kasey Kasem and I’m certainly not worthy to fill the shoes of the one and only DJ Lampsha…that said…our selection for this Saturday’s spin was actually inspired by one of Lampsha’s fabo posts from a while back which listed some of the top performers of 2006 as judged by her favorite radio station here in New York. On that list was a little known (to us) duo out of Akron, Ohio that called themselves The Black Keys. At Lampsha’s suggestion we sampled a number of the artists listed but it was The Black Keys which caught our fancy more than the rest.
The video is strange… we found the music raw, soulful, inspired. Enjoy!
~DJ BoBo (but only for a day — albeit a Birthday, but a “day”, nonetheless)
Every day’s a Saturday night on Humor-blogs.com. (don’t ask)
Filed under: guest who?
NO one knows better than we do how difficult it is to follow TEH PENGUIN, which is why we’re oh-so-happy we don’t have to, today. That’s right, as promised, we’re pleased (and somewhat relieved) to present: Another Guest Post! By Another Fun, Funny, and Funtastic Friend! A’yup, this one’s taken the plunge into the bloggy snark side by offering up a post that comes not a moment too soon — with very little heavy breathing and/or sweat, we hasten to add (trust us, there’ll be plenty of time for that tomorrow). Anyway, we’ve been fans of the DRIVE-BY BLOGGER for ages and ages — not that you’d know it by the comments we leave, because sometimes we forget to go read his hilarious blog, for fear we’ll laugh ourselves into an unrecoverable state of stupor (as happened once, while reading DIESEL’S blog, but we digress, or did the day we fell into that stupor). And so, without futher adieu and/or explanation, we proudly present our very good, very humorous friend, TDB. Enjoy! ~Snuppy
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Mother Nature…She’s Super Freaky
As some of you may know, my blog consists almost entirely of weird stuff that I make up. However, there are times when reality rears its ugly head as if to remind me that no one does weirdness better than Mother Nature. So, please join me as I pull out a few items from the “truth is stranger than fiction” file:
Waterfowl Wage Genital Warfare
“Despite the fact that most waterfowl form monogamous pairs, forced copulations by other males the avian equivalent of rape are common in many waterfowl.”
I, for one, will never be able to look at Donald or Daffy Duck the same way again — although this may explain why neither of those feathered bastards ever bothered to put on a pair of pants.
Honey Bee: Exploding Testicles
“A virgin queen that survives to adulthood without being killed by her rivals will take a mating flight with a dozen or so male drones (out of tens of thousands eligible bachelors in the colony). But don’t call these drones lucky because during mating, their genitals explode and snap off inside the queen!”
Is it me or does Mother Nature seem to get really creative when concerning herself with reproduction? When I used to hear people use the expression “the birds and the bees” I had no idea that it involved insect genitalia exploding like cheap forth of July fireworks.
What the article didn’t mention however, is what becomes of those males that didn’t successfully mate with the queen. Do they slink back to the hive where all the other bees point and snicker at their unexploded private parts? Or do they leave to form some kind of drone monastery? Inquiring minds want to know.
Spider Causes Erections
“A Brazilian spider delivers more than a painful bite that sends most victims to the hospital. Its venom stimulates an hours-long erection. Now scientists have figured out the chemical that seems to be responsible for the penis boost.
In Brazil, emergency room staff can immediately spot the victims of a bite from the Brazilian wandering spider. Patients not only experience overall pain and an increase in blood pressure, they also sport an uncomfortable erection.”
Well, if this fact had been known long ago, the comic book Spider-Man could have been a whole lot more interesting. Anyway, the Brazilian tourist board should jump on this and come up with a slogan like:
“Brazil: Come for the beaches, stay for the erection inducing spider bites!”
Oh, I also came across articles about an island that has large, carnivorous mice, and a small eel-like fish that takes refuge in the anus of a sea cucumber. And on that lovely note I will take my leave and probably not a moment too soon. Bye now!
The drive-through window is always open late, at Humor-blogs.com.
AIEEEE. Guess who’s not here to do a post for us today? That’s right, DIESEL. Apparently he thought it was more important to take his family on vacation than stay home writing a post for his friends in the Snark. That said, guess who showed up to do a guest post for us, instead? That’s right, the one, the only, the not-so-crummy-but-oh-so-funny, CRUMMY JOEL. Assuming you kids like this — and we’re guessing you will — we’re hoping to convice our clever friend with the tacky church signs to do something similar on a more regular basis. Nothin’ we like more than a great and/or funny post, especially when we don’t have to write it, ourselves. Enjoy. ~ Snuppy
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Dear Woman Standing In Front of Me at Last Night’s Concert,
I realize that a great deal of excitement accompanies seeing a major rock concert. I myself have been anticipating the chance to see Chris Cornell live for many years now. I feel I could have enjoyed the evening more, however, had your public behavior matched the expectations of a modern, civilized society. This letter hopes to address some practices that you might consider abolishing for the next rock concert you attend.
First of all, is it really necessary to document the entire evening’s proceedings on your piece-of-crap camera phone? Don’t the fourteen pictures that you took during “Outshined” closely resemble the seventeen pictures that you took during “Cochise”? It’s not Hamlet. There was no fricking wardrobe change.
And look, it’s not like that 0.1 MegaPixel wonder is taking good pictures. How could it possibly, since you’re just waving it in the air (and, consequently, in my face) while randomly clicking “Capture”? There is absolutely no doubt that you took more pictures of me than you did of Chris Cornell. You want a good picture of Chris Cornell? OK. Here’s one. Here’s another one. Hell, here’s at least 10 pages of pictures of Chris Cornell, every single one of them better than your best effort last night. People will believe you when you tell them you were there. It’s not like you’re telling them you went to the freaking moon. You don’t need proof.
If it’s a matter of needing to remember the evening’s proceedings, I have a suggestion. Before the concert, DON’T bathe in whiskey (or shower in rum, or take a ride down a tequila-soaked Wet Banana, or whatever it is you did pre-concert). You might claim to have done none of the above, but I know for a fact that a stench that profound could not possibly have come just from drinking. Certainly less contact with alcohol will allow you to remember more of the evening (or any of the evening, for that matter) and rely less on 14,000 grainy, blurred pictures.
Speaking of controlled substances: You know, some people are able to smoke without it affecting everyone around them. Then there are people like you, where everyone within a 3o-foot radius smells like they just hitch-hiked through a wildfire in Marlboro Country. You are to be congratulated, because I have never in my life seen one solitary cigarette belch out that much smoke (…and you smoked 53 of them in a 2-hour period in this manner). Together, you and your date caused R.J. Reynolds stock to rise an entire percentage point in one evening.
Ah yes, your date. I realize that perhaps some of last evening’s songs may have had some sentimental value to you and your significant other. (Who hasn’t had a romantic encounter to “Jesus Christ Pose”)? If a young couple wants to take the opportunity during a concert to become cuddly, gropey, and affectionate, then I completely understand. However, when you and your date are only a matter of months from receiving your AARP cards, you simply must keep your hands off of each other in public. It’s like watching my parents make out. I saw no less than 4 pierced-and-dyed teenagers break into uncontrollable sobbing when they saw you and your date entangled during “Like a Stone”. I’m not asking you to act your age, but getting within a decade or four wouldn’t kill anybody.
Perhaps it is now pertinent to mention the flailing, bouncing, and hopping about in which you frequently engaged. You are sure to categorize your actions as “dancing”, but anyone who saw it is sure to dispute that definition. When people are packed in close quarters and you choose to drunkenly flail about like you did, consequences are sure to ensue. One such consequence is that your long hair is likely to end up in places you don’t want it to end up. Don’t worry too much…it was only your hair. It was, however, MY MOUTH.
I am certain that despite the fact that you acted like a shrieking teenager at her first ever NKOTB concert, you are a regular attendee of such shows. Please consider some of the items addressed in this letter next time. I am certain it will make for a more enjoyable experience for everyone.
PS: Humor-blogs.com called, and they asked that you consider a bra next time, as well.
Filed under: guest who?
It always feels like a confession, because whenever I mention my real profession people look at me in one of two ways:
1. Like I just kicked them in the groin while they weren’t looking.
2. Like I just French kissed a rabid aardvark.
In other words, people either hate me because of what I represent or cannot fathom why I choose to do what I do. So, in an effort to give back to the countless people who have been wronged by their 7th Grade math experience and in an effort to explain my curious choice of vocation, I have decided to author a math textbook. Here’s the catch: I am endeavoring to make my textbook….wait for it…..interesting to students. Trust me, this is a truly groundbreaking idea in the field of mathematics textbooks. I will likely win some sort of Prestigious Math Award if I am able to pull this off. And, not to be self-serving, but have you seen what textbooks are selling for these days?!?
Anyhow, to accomplish my goal, I spent some time watching television programs and listening to music that teenagers would listen to. Here are a few of the questions that I have created based on my research. Answers can be found at the bottom of the post.
1. a) Create a graph where the x-axis represents time and the y-axis represents the ratings of the television show “The O.C.”
b) Create a graph with the same x-axis, but this time let the y-axis represent the quality level of “The O.C.” over that same time period.
2. Take the amount of dollars represented in 50 Cent’s name and multiply it by the two-digit number found in the name of the group that performed “It’s Hard Out There for a Pimp”. Raise your answer to the power equal to the average number of music videos MTV plays during a given day. What is the final result?
3. If the average talentless socialite weighs 80 pounds, what percentage of her entire body mass is synthetic products?
4. Which of the following ratios reflect values over 100%?
a) Kevin Federline’s actual minutes of fame OVER The 15 minutes of fame everyone supposed he had coming to him a few years ago.
b) The number of male Hollywood-types who have “done” Paris Hilton OVER the number of male Hollywood-types who have claimed to have “done” Paris Hilton.
c) The number of songs performed by American Idol finalists that were hits OVER the number of songs performed by American Idol finalists that would have been considered by record labels had they been sung by someone other than an American Idol finalist.
d) All of the above.
5. Create a circle graph that compares the amount of original material in the song “Fergielicious” by Fergie to the amount of material in the song that borrowed heavily from Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl”
2. [0.5(36)]^0 = 1 (Anything raised to the power of zero results in one. You didn’t even have to know that an Organization called “The Thirty-Six Mafia” sang the song in question).
3. 20/80 = .25 or 25%
4. d) All of the above
Only a few hundred questions to go!
Humor-blogs.com is divisible by zero.