Archive for the ‘childish jokes’ Category

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Beards

September 20, 2016

My uncle Joe & I both grew beards to cover our scars. He got his from saving a fellow soldier on a minefield in WWII. I got mine from going down on some suspicious box decades ago. So I guess you could say we’re both heroes.

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Fairness

August 30, 2016

When my good friend survived a very serious diagnosis of colon cancer, I asked him if they cut out enough of his colon that if I sodomized him I’d be able to see my penis distending his belly with every thrust. I told him that that was all I’d ever wanted, to pretend like I was fucking John Hurt in Alien right before the Alien pops out of his stomach and that my penis was the baby Alien.

So, when people ask “wow, you’re so young to get cancer, and you didn’t smoke or anything, do you feel like it’s unfair?” I think, “no. This seems about right.”

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On Being Known For Something

December 23, 2008

My friend Josh used to use the phrase “on brand” to describe when someone did something that was particularly likely for them – like, the innapropriate alcoholic showing up drunk at a company event would be “on brand” for him.  It was an effective shorthand for summing up personality attributes, but it made me wonder what exactly would be “on brand” for me.

This morning two different people I know forwarded me the following article, both saying words to the effect of “you probably already know this:”

The Disturbing Sex Lives of Deep Sea Squid

By Philip Bethge

A Dutch biologist has extensively studied the reproductive techniques of deep-ocean squid. During sex, they are brutal and ruthless — and sometimes clumsy.

So, it’s clear that disturbing articles about aquatic sex life are “on brand” for me.  It’s good to have an area of expertise.

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My Wikipedia Falsehood

July 18, 2008

I lie.  I do it all the time.  I’m doing it right now.  Couldn’t stop if I wanted to.  Most of my lies are outrageous, easily disproved falsehoods, which is convenient, because no one picks them up & runs with them as though they were true.

Recently, a friend (whose last name is Haddad – IMPORTANT DETAIL) mentioned the 80/20 Rule, which in our example referred to the fact that 80 percent of your profits as a company are derived from 20 percent of your audience.  My friend mentioned that it was also known as the Pareto Principle, and cited the Wikipedia as proof of this fact.  Before the phone call was over, I had edited the Wikipedia such that what originally read as:

The Pareto principle (also known as the 80-20 rule, the law of the vital few and the principle of factor sparsity) states that, for many events, 80% of the effects come from 20% of the causes.

now read as:

The Pareto principle (also known as the 80-20 rule, Haddad’s Theorem, the law of the vital few and the principle of factor sparsity) states that, for many events, 80% of the effects come from 20% of the causes.

Most Wikipedia lies are so easily disproven that they immediately get edited out, and I realize I’m probably killing this joke just by writing this entry (not to mention getting my IP address banned from Wikipedia), but four weeks later, the unattributed cribbing from the Wikipedia article not only still stands, but is spreading all over the web.  The funny thing is, there already IS a Haddad’s Theorem, about something completely boring & unrelated.  But the power of my Wikipedia lie has almost eradicated any actual mention of Haddad’s Theorem from the front page of Google.

It first showed up here on Linked In’s professional advice page, as user Joerg Kurt W says “The 80-20 rule, Haddad’s Theorem, or Pareto principle is also related to several other principles, like the ‘Iron law of oligarchy’ and ‘tipping point principle’.

From there, it appeared on the second entry of this Atkins Diet bulletin board.  Writer cgdat136 says “So, this has me thinking about the 80-20 rule, Haddad’s Theorem or the Pareto Principle: Will 80% of our efforts (goals) really be achieved by only 20% of us?

Then here, on a marketing blog called Ramblings of a Marketing Gurl.  In her Customer Segmentation entry, she writes that  “The Pareto principle (a.k.a the 80-20 rule, Haddad’s Theorem) states that 80% of the effects come from 20% of the causes.

Currently only 2 of the top 10 Google results for Haddad’s Theorem involve the accurate mention of what the term refers to.  The other 8 are Wiki citations.

Like I said, I’m sure this ends with the publication of this entry, but it was interesting to see how quickly the lie took root & spread.

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Huh. Maybe I AM Ignorant.

May 8, 2008

So, I’m reading a review of Speed Racer in the local alt-rag, LA Weekly, and it occurs to me I have no fucking clue what the reviewer is talking about.  A lot of made up words, obscure references & excessively showy language to basically say that he didn’t recommend the film.  This paragraph in particular was awesome:

The futuristic, multihued skyscrapers seem a figment of Kenny Scharf’s imagination[I DON’T KNOW WHO THAT IS]; the glazed female leads might be Jeff Koons sculptures [I’VE HEARD OF HIM.  IS HE A SCULPTOR?  I DON’T GET THIS REFERENCE.  DOES HE GLAZE HIS SCULPTURES A LOT?] sporting Takashi Murakami [WHO?] accessories. And that’s just the “Sunday Styles” stuff. Once the various gizmobiles accelerate to warp speed on roller-coaster racetracks seemingly conceived by Dr. Seuss [YES!!!!], the screen reconstitutes as a Bridgett Riley vortex [SHE MAKES VORTEXES, I ASSUME] or a mad geometric abstraction of Kenneth Noland [NOPE, SORRY.] racing stripes.

Thanks, J. Hoberman of the L.A. Weekly.  I never knew how little I knew until you came along.  I will say this for you – after diligent analysis, I was able to discern whether you liked the movie or not:

But love, hate or ignore it, The Matrix proposed a social mythology. (Just ask Slavoj Zizek. [SERIOUSLY NOW, WHAT THE FUCK?]) Speed Racer is simply a mishmash that, among other things, intermittently parodies the earlier film’s pretensions.

You go to hell, J. Hoberman.  You go straight to hell.

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Advantage: Jonson!

March 8, 2008

Once upon a time, Jonathan Rouse of Longborough University was the #1 result for all Jonathan Rouses in Google, primarily due to his wide ranging scholarly publications (I’m not joking) in the field of sewage maintenance.  This fact led me to author the following post: Screw You, Jonathan Rouse of Longborough University.  Later, when I seized my birthright & claimed sole ownership of the crown, I was forced to tone down my rhetoric against the Jonathan Rouse of Longborough via the following post: My apologies to Jonathan Rouse of Longborough University.  But as of today it appears that the Googledamage is irrevocably done, as I noticed this most recent comment on my blog, in the original “Screw You” post:

“So, I was trying to get hols [SIC] of my mate Jon Rouse’s email address who used to work in the sewage and compost dept at Loughborough University but all I could find was this blog.  If you have his email address, can you let me know? Ta.”

So, to be clear here, not only did I overtake my British rival, I effectively wiped any trace of him off the internet.  Les Jeux Sont Faites, Bueller!  Translation: THE GAME IS UP.

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One last time, fuck the Patriots

February 22, 2008

So, both teams in the Superbowl get “Superbowl Champion” apparel made for the post game festivities, but obviously only one team gets to wear that apparel.  The NFL has a policy of donating the losing team’s “Championship” outfits to 3rd world counties, which is how I saw this hilarious article.  Whoo-hoo, 19 & 0!!

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My website is not a midget dating service

January 31, 2008

So, as previously mentioned, the jonsonblog Pageranks pretty high on Google for obsure terms, including midget dating.  A recent comment on an 18 month old post of mine on that very topic has led me to assume that someone looking for a midget dating service found this site via Google & is looking high & low (but mostly low) for a little lady.  Ed of Northern California writes:  “Im a man looking for a little person for fun, Im into most things.Im in seaside CA.”

Oh Ed, I’m glad that you’re into most things, but unfortunately you’ve fallen into the same Google trap that my unsuspecting personalized M&M purchasers fell into.  This site you’re on here makes fun of things, it doesn’t actually sell things.  For a site that sells things, you’ll have to wait for the launch of my personalized little person dating & candy covered chocolate site, “mMms.biz” (the middle M is for “Midget!”).

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I could not help myself. It is my nature.

January 4, 2008

I was reminded of the tale of the frog & the scorpion today as I needed to get onto a web forum to look up some information.  My co-worker had already registered for the forum, which he told me was a laborious process.  I asked for his login/pw combo, as I didn’t need to type anything, just look up some info, but the boards were viewing restricted to login only.  He hesitated for the briefest moment, then gave me the info.  The hesitation made me think “what, does he think I’ll post something inappropriate in his name?  Hey wait, that’s a great idea.”  Seconds later, I’m in the General Info section of the forums and the following new post is up:

Who Here Likes Cock?

I can’t get enough of it, personally. Normally I like it in my mouth, but sometimes it’s fun to have it smeared around my face.  Oh well, thanks for sharing!

 Sincerely, Nathan.

Then, I hit Submit, but not before clicking the “email me with any responses to this topic.”  After all, a joke’s not funny if the recipient never finds out.  Twenty minutes later I get the ranting phone call from his extension.  Apparently he was banned from the forum, and he found out about the thread when someone responded with “This guy is 100% correct!”

It occurs to me that it may be difficult earning his trust in the future.  Our discussion of the incident ended with him saying “The fault lies with me.  I trusted you & I shouldn’t have and I knew better.”  Clearly next time I will need to sit down at his desk while he’s out.  Thank god for persistent cookies.

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This story is tragically sexy & disgusting

November 26, 2007

I’m going to violate two jonsonblog rules in this post – I usually stay away from stories about kooky news items, because there’s plenty of room for that on the internet, and I usually stay away from stories about women I would have sex with, because my wife reads this blog & she has easy access to pointy objects for stabbing me.

But when I read the story of Jaileen Soliman (yes, you read that right; Jaileen), I was moved to comment.  If you’re unfamiliar, Jaileen is a 25 year old Floridian woman who was arrested in mid November while living in utter squalor with her 3 children, all home schooled, 8 cats, a pit bull, a pot bellied pig(!), a bird and a constantly rising tide of filth including human & animal waste. 

But the real issue here is the dichotomy between my brain & my penis on how we analyzed this story.  My brain feels sorry for the kids, and for the woman, who is clearly not right in the head, although not so much for the pot bellied pig, who was probably more in his element than any pig in America, and is now very angry at Social Services for fucking up a good situation.  My penis, on the other hand, is trying very hard to convince the rest of me that having sex in a living room filled with human waste would not be that high of a price to pay.  See, Jaileen is super hot.  Like, at the very least stripper hot, certainly “pedophile Junior High Teacher” hot, and possibly even legitimately hot.  Add in a flounder index that would unquestionably be off the charts, and my penis makes some interesting points.

Sadly Jaileen, it will never work out between us.  You are currently in Jail (oh the irony!), you have a 10 year old even though you are only 25, and your cooter is quite possibly a petri dish full of biological weapons that even the worst tyrants would be too shamed to loose upon an ususpecting public.  Meanwhile, I live on the other side of the country, and I’m married to a woman who may stab me in my sleep tonight after she reads this.

I like to daydream about the life we could have had, Jaileen.  You and I walking hand in hand along a beach somewhere, pausing only to poop in public and then make out right near that poop.  I guess I’m just a romantic at heart.