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Just blowing off a little G5 hidden object game steam, again. It’s convenient I came across this caveman-ish fellow.
[Tee-hee. Car insurance laugh.]
Posts Tagged ‘spoof
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[The setting: Woman-A meets with her friend, Woman-B at a cafe for lunch. They start talking and eventually reach a disagreement which gives Woman-A a bad case of indigestion and gas (because her emotions are tied to her digestive system). Woman-B decides to use the Ladies’ Room while Woman A maintains her distance and hopes no one complains about her flatulence. A female stranger, Woman-C, notices the discomfort of Woman-A and joins her.]
Woman C: Is your friend giving you digestive problems?
Woman A: Urp! *sigh* …Yeah.
Woman C: Then you need Friend-Less. She’s 100% human but without the complicated emotional upsets. You’ll never have to endure a conflict of interests, again!
Woman A: Sounds *B-Lurp!* great. Where can I find…uh, her?
[You won’t find Friend-Less in any restaurant, workplace, club, yoga class, pharmacy or department store. Science hasn’t worked out all the bugs on this one, yet. And, even if someone did, it would be a crime against nature (unless a higher power chose a lack of emotional upsets as a step in evolution, as an adaptation). ‘Sort of like any food/drink that has been tampered with to boast a lack of side effects. It’s NOT 100% anything except guaranteed to be manipulated.]
05
Nov
16
My New Social Networks
*****
I’m not much of a joiner. I’m just too darn skeptical.
I don’t like assuming everyone and every corporation you find is suddenly a “friend” you can add to or delete from your circle. I don’t like slinging, eating or smoking hash. Nor do I have any interest in tagging bags of it. I don’t want people following me everywhere and reading my every thought. I don’t like people abusing a word like– What’s the word I’m thinking of? You know. It’s like…something like… Anyway. Why be one of countless followers feeding the pockets of some millennial mogul-in-the-making when you could be feeding your own pockets with shat piles of gold?
So, I did just that. I crapped out my own social domains in just a few minutes. Sign up, and you can continue to defecate every little thing that crosses your blue-lit mind in one more trending space. Or, link your crap from other spaces to this space to create a chain of crap, otherwise known as diarrhea of the internet.
Once I’m rolling in golden crap cakes, I’ll be sure to thank everyone by showing off the fruits of my empire and a short shat list of charities I support to distract you from my stock and political angles.
Now, go forth, be poop-ful and multiply.
Be sure to Kiss my Arsebook page and Stalk my Sh@tter feed.
I’m Writingbolt and I drop this statement (along with one smelly microphone).
12
Apr
16
If Ariel Saw the Modern World…
*****
Setting: We take you to a rock jutting out of the sea in that famous scene from Disney’s version of Hans Christian Anderson’s The Little Mermaid where Ariel sings about joining the land-dwellers’ world…in the modern world as we know it…
Ariel: Look at this trove of treasures untold. How many wonders can one cavern hold? Looking around here, you’d think, sure, she’s got everything…
A garbage truck pulls up to the beach to dump another load of stuff that apparently isn’t fit for an overflowing landfill. Ariel watches as the seagulls descend to pick through the mess. She winces as one eats something she’d rather not ingest or see anyone ingest for that matter.
Ariel: Up where they walk. Up where they run. Up where they spend all day in the sun…
But, people are not walking and running in the sun on the cracked concrete she sees. They are distracted by the gadgets in their hands and on their desks. They are commuting by car and truck, kicking up quite the cloud of smog. And, the commotion never fully stops, even late at night.
Ariel shields her nose and mouth, ducking under water briefly before her nagging curiosity strikes, again.
Ariel: Wandering free…
Video screens everywhere display criminal activity in the news, slavery, prisoners of war, mass destruction. And, eyes are fixed on most if not all of them.
Ariel: Wish I could be…
A large freighter carrying hastily made products from China to the USA nearly collides with her perch. She returns from the deep with frazzled hair and a headache. She raises an index finger to make one more attempt at singing something profound. But, the words are not there. No, she did not lose her voice to some sea witch. She just lost her fountain of optimism and returns to her underwater domain which no longer seems so bad. In fact, it’s quite safe and reassuring. At least, until the surface pollution turns up the water temperature to unbearable.
A lesson in thinking the grass is greener on the other side.
29
Mar
16
Free Pervert Profiling
*****
Setting: We open with an elated young woman (May) joining a female friend (June) for lunch at a small restaurant. [Insert an assortment of clinking plates and silverware.] The latter waits at a small round table for two and gets up to embrace her friend as she approaches with good news practically exploding from her artificially white smile.
[May is a humble gal dressed in a wooly coat adorned with a scarf she knitted herself. Her flats are weathered from plenty of walking and catching buses. June has sold her soul for a bigger salary; thus she is dressed in the latest fashions which cost a fortune but will be completely worthless in less than five years.]
June: So? Tell me. What’s got you so excited this morning?
May: I just found me the perfect boyfriend. He’s the complete package.
Both women take their seats. A waitress appears to collect initial orders for coffee and appetizers. Throwing the departing waitress a casual glance, June returns her full attention to May.
June (whispering): May. There is no such thing as a perfect boyfriend.
May: I beg to differ, June. This one is. I know it.
June: And, have you done a background check on him, yet?
May: What?! I-I’m not that kind of gal. I trust my gut.
June: Well, you can trust your gut to the bank. But, you’re a fool if you don’t, at least, do a quick search online. Just go to www.whosyourdaddy.com and get your free pervert profile. Input everything you think you know about the guy. A trusted professional will do the rest. In no time at all, you’ll know just how perfect this guy really is.”
May removes a surprisingly expensive-looking “smartphone” from her knitted handbag and brings up a search engine.
May: Just go to www.whosyourdaddy.com, ay?
June: It’s totally free. Try it.
May pretends to input what she knows about her new boyfriend in a matter of seconds…because the commercial will end in less than thirty seconds. Upon seeing a discouraging message on a flashing red screen, May sulks.
May: I guess you were right. He’s far from perfect.
June: See? You owe me one.
May: What do I owe ya?
June: For starters, you can buy me lunch. Just kidding. You’re poor.
Both women laugh in a muffled, corny, TV sitcom way as the image freezes.
Announcer: Don’t date Mr. Wrong. Go to www.whosyourdaddy.com and get your free background check, today.
Disclaimer: The image seen on May’s phone is not what you actually see upon inputing data. The previously mentioned website has no information to provide other than what visitors give to it. Thus, your attempts at a background check may result in a 404 apology. There are no trustworthy professionals here. We don’t know the meaning of those words because the majority of our employees don’t even speak English. We are not responsible for your absent-minded use of the internet. All sorts of message and data usage fees will be levied just for fun and profit. But, we will avoid legal action by creating a charity and writing everything off during tax season.
29
Mar
16
Become a Certified Poopologist
*****
Hey, Blogmericans. I’m Pete Underbrush. You might know me from my home-remodeling, cooking, magic, stunt, survival, game show. Well, I’m here to tell you how exciting your life can be with a career as a poopologist.
‘Think I am just pulling your chain? Think again! I’m not some paid turd off the street, trying to get into showbiz. My TV career is tanking. I had to give up a big mobile home and my crew to live in a much smaller, stationary crapper. I cannot afford to lie. But, I can be paid to say anything. So, believe me when I say poopologists are real. I should know. I just became one.
If you call in and sign up, now, we will send you a free special care package and deliver it straight to your door at no additional cost to you. Then you can discover the wonderful world of excrement study yourself. A hands-on education could be just what you need to breathe easier about your financial future.
Don’t just sit there with your pants down, twiddling your thumbs. Put your poop time to good use. Become a certified poopologist in just six weeks.
Don’t delay. Call 1-800-CRAP-YES, today.
06
Jan
16
The Return of Originality
*****
A short time ago in this very galaxy, not far away, at all…
LEGACY WARS: The Return of Originality
*****
Setting: It is high noon in the Tootoosoon Desert where we can see two suns in the sky. One red and one yellow.
A lone figure, Lank Fastwalker, trudges through the sand that once was fertile creative territory. Starved for teamwork and original thinkers like himself, he wanders in search of new direction. Seeing his beloved childhood turn dark, all that he believes in sullied and all of his favorite talents joining the dark side otherwise known as the Disney Empire, the flame that keeps him alive nears the end of its wick.
Fastwalker: That’s it. There’s nothing left. With remakes in every direction, why take another step? I might as well lay here and die with my withering creativity.
Then a voice calls out to him from the sky.
Casaba: Lank… Lank… Do not give up, Lank… I need you… The world needs you…
Puffy white clouds begin to take shape. At first, Fastwalker thinks the heat is getting to him. Then he sees a familiar face. It is Georgi Lu Casaba, the fire that lit Star Wars, a six-part story cut down to its second half, rejoined with the first half and then put into a blender before being called chapter seven.
[Fastwalker has mixed feelings about this guy. Though Casaba has created a rich source of inspiration for philosophy and costume design, Fastwalker blames him for the use of whiny protagonists who save the day too easily, greedy toy dealers and the insanity that is impulse shopping. Not as mad as other fans over the “prequels,” Fastwalker blew his top when Casaba sold his legacy to the Disney Empire.]
Georgi Lu Casaba expresses regret for making a bad sale.
Casaba: Though the Disney Empire had assured me of a luxurious retirement, including Kennedy Center honors, I did not know there were “white slavers” in the ranks, enlisting poor souls under insane rules, depriving them of individuality, threatening them for any breach of secrecy or less-than-enthusiastic answer when asked about their masters. I beg of you. Start a rebellion. Take back what was wrongfully placed in greedy, merchandise-mad hands that will not rest until the planet is nothing but landfills and abandoned Wal-Mart stores. Turn the archives over to trustworthy souls who will preserve them. And, if necessary, use force, Lank. Use physical force to break down the walls of Disney oppression. Put an end to their profits from the mutation of monopolized talents. And, spread the wealth.
The suns have nearly set before Fastwalker sees the light.
Fastwalker: You know. You’re quite the windbag when I’m sitting here, dying of thirst. I will need a handful of trustworthy allies, a fast ship and a big slice of your retirement fund to undo the damage. But, together, we will restore balance to this world, reduce pollution and brighten lives for generations to come.
With a plan in motion, Fastwalker bestows this wisdom upon the theater audience before the end credits roll: Be excellent to each other. And, is it too much to ask you to deposit your own garbage in the provided trash bins when you leave the theater? I know there is a cleaning crew. But, we wouldn’t need one if you didn’t pay ridiculous prices for unhealthy, unnecessary snacks.
After the end credits, Jar Jar Binks makes a cameo appearance only to learn his future will be cut short. A bounty has been placed on his head for his resemblance to General Goofy of the First Order (aka the Disney Empire).
30
Dec
15
Get Your SCARESNOW Today!
*****
The following is a paid advertisement provided by Writingbolt International.
*****
[In a normal American suburb, average schmo Pete smells something amiss while gray clouds move into the neighborhood one bitter winter afternoon.]
*****
*****
Pete: Hey! Something’s burning!
[Pete runs down the street to his neighbor Jim’s house where what looks like a scarecrow has been set on fire. Jim stands nearby with a can of gasoline and a fireplace wand.]
Pete: What do you call that thing, Jim?
Jim: Hey, Pete! It’s my SCARESNOW!
Pete: Your SCARESNOW?
Jim: Yeah! Cuz I don’t want to see ANY of that white sh@! on the ground this year!
Pete: Sounds good! Where can I get one of those?
*****
Order now! Writingbolt endorses but does not yet manufacture this product. Supplies are limited and completely fictional. Patent pending.
30
Oct
15
I’m Dating Amy Schumer?
*****
So, I woke up one morning and popped online to check my Farsebook page. And, I saw all these messages questioning my DATING status. As I scrolled through the mess to see what was the cause of all this (because, as far as I know, I haven’t been on a date in…). My blurry eyes sure cleared up when I saw those golden words:
I AM DATING AMY SCHUMER.
How did that get there?
Now, some of you might say she does nothing for you. You have golden private parts, and I respect that. But, at five foot seven with that perfect shade of pale golden hair, she’s that sort of cuddly hotness that makes you want a s’more on a cold night or a bag of marshmallows (which I don’t normally crave, at all). She’s just a cuddly marshmallow of a woman with a great sense of humor/wit. I want to paw her all night and wake up with her under my head just so I can wake up and peel her off of me in the morning. That’s the kind of hot Amy is.
It’s no wonder we’d hit it off. But, I had to figure out how we started dating. It must be a drunken blur. I mean, she must have gotten me so drunk I forgot how we met.
[If you’ve seen her SNL monologue. You know where I am going with this.]
Our relationship hasn’t exactly been a smooth one. She’s a Gemini rooster, I’m a Sagittarius rabbit. I guess you could say I have a love-hate relationship with her. She’s often on the road. And, I, well, I don’t get out much. So, I find out she’s drinking all the time and seeing other guys. Obviously, that’s taken its toll. It’s hard to cut her loose because she’s just so deliciously “huggable.” And, that face; she can win you over with a look. You know that puppy dog look some people talk about. She does that! And, you just want to grab her fwubby wubbly cheeks and say, “Ihs owky, my wittle cuddlecake! I fowgive you!”
Well, I finally got tired of forgiving the drinking and one-night stands. I let her have it with both barrels only to feel rotten the next morning for sleeping with her one more night after she just told me about the last sleaze she slept with because she chronically suffers from low self-esteem. Oh, she hides it well, but she’s not yet comfortable in her body.
Long story short, after a bad breakup, I get a call saying she will be in town close to my birthday. She didn’t exactly say she wanted to see me, but from the photo she sent soon after I got the message, I figure that’s where this is headed. I look forward to amazing make-up sex. But, only after she joins me for a night by the campfire and indulges all the other whims I’ve only been able to share with her via Skype. [Yes. We’ve done the long-distance relationship thing, too. And, it sucks.] Which probably means the sex won’t happen. But, a guy can dream.
———
In all honesty, I was watching one of the late night talk shows when I first saw her and didn’t think much until she started to speak. She was so refreshingly charming and witty that I fell instantly in love. But then, I saw the promotional materials for that recent movie of hers and felt a chill sweep through my heart. It was cold, casual and more sexually liberated than the Amy I had seen prior. She was part of an old school bunch I had left behind. When I saw SNL and heard her say she was dating Bradley Cooper, my heart clenched a little. But, taking a few breaths, I decided they were good for each other. And, the next day, I learned my humor radar was off; she was just joking. A few weeks later, here I am finding an announcement of her coming to my town near my birthday, and the rest is written history.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhu7rs3Ihas
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