According to a White House spokesman, the President has just been enrolled in Anger Management classes starting next month. He reluctantly agreed to do this when several members of his staff conducted an intervention session with him after a recent round of golf. Shooting a 129 score on 16 holes before giving up on the round after hitting 4 consecutive water balls on #17 had much to do with the intervention action, but the spokesman said there was much more to it than that.
The President has expressed his anger on several recent occasions, sending red flags to staff members. Most recently, he blew up over the VA falsification scandal, and was rumored to have thrown a tuna fish sandwich at the wall when hearing the news. Prior to that, he got mad in the Rose Garden about the failed Obamacare website, and promptly place-kicked 3 beautiful flowers. He popped his cork over the flubs in the Benghazi attack when an ambassador was murdered, and nearly popped a blood vessel when learning about the IRS scheme of targeting conservative groups for intense tax audits. Staffers claimed that there was no one who was more outraged than the President during these screw-ups on his watch. This became a serious warning flag to Insiders who knew that there were so many other crazy angry nutso’s in the world who would have seemed to be angrier than the President on any of those issues.
It was one thing to exhibit a sort of faux-anger about issues on the job…quite another matter to get so kooky angry over a damn game of golf. At one point during the round, after failing to get out of a shallow sand trap on the 3rd occasion, he bent his sand wedge into the shape of a pretzel…not an easy thing to do for a person with normal human strength…unless, of course, the adrenaline was running at extreme flows. A Secret Service agent was not able to return to club to shape, and thereafter, the President played bunker shots with a 4-iron.
Doctors say that conditions like this are treatable with a combination of group therapy, and either ample doses of alcohol or medical marijuana. The spokesman said that the President is considering his options…but points out that, in younger days, the latter seemed to be fairly effective.
Disclaimer: all stories in Bizarreville are fiction, even the ones that might seem plausible.
The Association of Punks, Thugs, and Hoodlums (APTH) has announced plans to file a discrimination lawsuit in the Bizarreville District Court. For years, APTH has complained that they have been isolated from society, never considered an official “protected class”, and had to put up with disparaging joking from handicapped people, LGBT people, ethnic minorities, and others chiding them for their exclusionary status. The joke has now gone too far, and APTH is going on the offensive.
The most recent incident that ignited the brouhaha was when 3 knife-wielding thugs got thrown out of Melford’s Bar for rabble-rousing, threatening customers, and failing to lift the seat on a family unisex restroom commode. The bartender told them that they don’t serve punks like them, and promptly had the bouncers throw them out on their respective ears into the back alley.
“Punks like them?!?” a spokesman for APTH exclaimed. “What does that nimrod bartender really mean when he says ‘Punks like them’? What is he trying to say? I’ll tell you what he’s trying to say. He’s saying just because some booze pouring bozo does not like the look of a man’s knife sheath, or the colors of this tattoos all over his face, or maybe just his armpit smell…he thinks he has the right to discriminate. Well, that should not and cannot be allowed to stand.”
During their interview, the 3 victims said that, in the past, they would have just started throwing chairs, overturned pool tables, tossed beer cans, and beat up a few arbitrary innocent patrons. But that time has long since gone. Now they prefer legal remedies. One victim said he was going to hold-out for free drinks at that bar for a full year. His thug buddy nudged him, and suggested he set his sights higher…three years…hell, why not four?
The owner of the bar said he was considering just converting the establishment into a sanctioned gay bar, where discrimination against all non-gays was perfectly acceptable and lawful. He said he could no longer afford to pay for a lawyer who charges him $400 per hour, including the time he spends on his crapper, and needs to go to some kind of Plan B.
APTH attorneys agreed that Melford could employ the Gays Protection Law to keep his clients out of the bar…for now. But he said that might be the next lawsuit in the works, where punks and bullies could once again be free to beat up anyone, no matter what their sexual orientation was. Freedom is all they want.
Disclaimer: all stories in Bizarreville are fiction. At least for now.
bo: Mr. President, how can you live with yourself when you know all these citizens are losing their Health Care insurance?
BO: You can ask that kind of question to anybody. For example, how do you live with yourself after being so disrespectful and mean to the President?
bo: Everyone hates the Health Care program. It was a total screw-up of Biblical proportions. Moses could not have dreamed up a plague on the Egyptians this bad.
BO: Yeah, but it’s getting better.
bo: Let’s turn to Benghazi. Another total screw-up where no one is being held accountable for lives lost, sir.
BO: Okay. You made your point. Tell you what…tomorrow I’m going to hold someone accountable for that mess-up: the Secretary of State at the time. What was her name again? I’ll go ahead and dock her pay.
bo: It’s higher than that. It’s you. You were told that this was a terrorist attack, and it took hours, too many hours, to get something going to protect your people, our people. By then it was too late.
BO: Yeah, I think I crashed early that night. Had a few brewskis with a couple of your pundit buddies at Fox earlier that evening. They are much more fun than you, by the way. They had bigger morning hangovers than me, though, from what I heard.
bo: And then, there is the whole immigration issue that seems to be going nowhere because nobody really cares about it.
BO: Ask me if I care.
bo: Do you care?
BO: Sure. Next question…
bo: How about the Super Bowl. Who are you favoring and why?
BO: As President, I cannot say that I favor any one team over the other. If I do, I get hate mail from the other side, and threats to never vote for my party again for the rest of their lives. So…no football picks. I will be rooting for Willard Shmelberg in the National Bowl-off Tournament. He’s from DC. Saw him juggle bowling balls at a Press Club dinner last year. Amazing guy.
bo: Thank you, Mr. President. I can tell that our heart is in the right place.
BO: Yeah, it’s right there in the middle of the chest. I knew a guy who had his heart in his lower intestine area. Didn’t have the rib cage for protection, but had about 15 layers of fat, so probably worked out to be about the same. Creeped out doctors when they tried to use their stethoscope on him, and he started moving their hand down his frame.
bo: Thank you…Cut.
Northfunk Airlines announced yesterday, amid growing numbers of complaints from customers who are forced to sit next to obnoxiously fat people on flights, a new policy to deal with the obese. The Northfunk airplanes have been internally modified to make the back two rows of seats extra wide for the 300-pounders who fly. These seats, called the Fat Boy Specials, will be required seating for the enormous bulk set. defined as any passenger weighing more than 300 pounds. A $75 surcharge will be assessed for these thick passengers occupying Fat Boy Specials. Normal weight people will also be able to spend the $75 on the seats after all the chunksters have been seated, depending on availability.
The airline said that previous attempts to deal with fat people on a voluntary basis were unsuccessful. The airline had asked obese riders to purchase two seats in the past, but none complied. Fat passengers just bought a single seat, and let gravity take over. The barrage of complaints from customers who were getting squished by rolls of sweaty fat spilling over their armrests, made the company decide to finally take action. Weigh scales will be placed at the entry doors in their terminals.
The AFA immediately threatened to file a lawsuit, citing discrimination against the minority group of “hungry overeaters”, just because of their slow metabolism medical conditions. A Northfunk spokesman said that they still want fat people to ride their planes, unless total weight limits are exceeded, or jetways are unable to support the weight.
Disclaimer: all stories in Bizarreville are fiction…so far as we know.
The Institute of Study Studies (ISS) just published a new study this week revealing that, on an overall basis, all study conclusions…no matter if seemingly profound, no matter if done by the bluest of blue chip panels…cannot be considered valid. They say that most studies are so full of bogus science, skewed and skewered data, illogical quasi-analysis, and statistical insignificance that no one can validate the true truth from ordinary bilge water. Most conclusions have no real basis in fact. More often than not they are manipulated and slanted to reflect what the payer of the study wanted to hear, with high hopes of getting re-funded to continue the work.
A spokesman for the ISS said that the studies stating that something is bad for you have a 33% chance of being correct, a 33% chance of having no impact one way or the other, and a 33% chance of it actually being good for you. He pointed to the wave of lawsuits challenging nearly every prescription medicine ever sold, the ongoing debate about the health effects of eating eggs, the global warming debate, and the latest controversial study concluding that supplementing your dinner meal with a small side of dog chow helps digestion…as evidence of the range of uncertainty and confusion in the world of studies.
The ISS study has angered various think tank members, and egghead forums across the nation. One outspoken multi-PhD member of the High IQ Bowling Society commented that if the ISS conclusion is true, then their own study of studies must also be considered invalid…so there. The ISS responded that this guy needs to seriously get a life.
Others who spend their whole lives just thinking about stuff were similarly outraged when the ISS proposed that all study work be stopped, and that study wheel-spinners go find real jobs. “The macroeconomic tightrope of such a broad reaching runway is arbitrary, mal-feasible, and potentially could channel benign resurgence,” one egghead complained.
“Case in point,” the ISS spokesman replied.
Disclaimer: all stories in Bizarreville are fiction, at least for now.
Attention Obamacare Shoppers:
You have been frustrated, waiting and waiting to be able to get service at the crippled Obamacare website, right? Then, when it looks like you finally get a connection, you get dumped into a cyber-waiting room for endless hours. Meanwhile, your previous insurance company has cancelled you, leaving you buck naked from a health coverage standpoint. A crying shame.
Well, now the wait is over. The administration has contracted with Health Care Liquidators Inc. to offer citizens whose health care programs have been obliterated a special deal: pre-owned health care coverage at discount prices. This new program has been certified by the Obamacare Death Panel Oversight Committee, and promises that the certified pre-owned coverage will be just as good as new coverage. The committee guarantees policy owners can keep their old doctors…provided those doctors are registered with the Health Care Liquidators network and are willing to accept the discounted fee structure.
These policies have just come from owners, like yourselves, who bailed when Obamacare looked to be the new fad. Some pre-owned policies have slight cosmetic damage. Whereas they might not look attractive to purists, or have the fabled new policy smell, they will still function adequately in most situations. Administration officials have said, “Hey…it’s better than nothing.”
Be one of the first to enroll in the Certified Pre-owned Health Care policy program, and you will be automatically enrolled in a drawing for a free 4-slice toaster. The toaster slots are wide enough to jam bagels, texas toast, even hot dog buns.
Disclaimer: all stories in Bizarreville are fiction, at least so far
This is the perfect time of year to find something out of the ordinary for stocking stuffing. Choose the quintessential gift of satire: Bizarreville Campfire Stories. You can easily click on the book cover on the right to link to Amazon, or the B&N image to link to those folks. Face it, the same old traditional stocking stuffers are not going to give you the Wow Factor, like the craziness of Bizarreville. Do it today.
With the government getting scarily close to hitting the brick wall on its debt ceiling, parties on both sides have been scurrying to work out a deal of some sort. Hundreds of suggestions have been served up, but all have been plundered by the opposing side as “moronic and totally unacceptable.” It appeared that neither side was willing to budge and financial chaos was only days away.
That is, until Representative Carl “The Codger” Coddington made his suggestion on the House floor. Carl fidgeted in his chair during most of Thursday’s session, looked very agitated, then finally blurted out that they should agree to go ahead and raise the Debt Limit by a Buck 2.80. Perhaps showing total exhaustion from the weeks of wraggling, both sides erupted in wild cheers of excitement. A scribe hurriedly wrote up a blurb of legislative prose, and both sides approved it with a verbal vote on the spot. Crisis averted.
No one, however, exactly knew what the real definition of a Buck 2.80 was. Did it represent some sort of real number, and if so, what was that number? If it was a number between 1 and 3 dollars, it would only keep the government financially solvent for 13 nanoseconds…and while that was “some” progress, it was perhaps not quite “enough” progress. Attempts to interview congressmen to get an answer were met with snide rebuffs, retorting, “Don’t get so damn technical!” as they popped open the champagne bottles on the floor.
One news reporter said he uses the term all the time. “Anytime some nitwit relative asks me how much I paid for a new jacket or fishing rod, I just tell them ‘About a Buck 2.80,’ and that usually shuts them up so that I can get back to doing whatever I was doing. Buck 2.80, brilliant move!”
Another reporter said he uses it, too. “Last week, some idiot doing a survey stopped me, asked a bunch of lame questions, then quizzed me how much money I made. I told him about a Buck 2.80, and he gave me a deer-in-the-headlight stare that was hilarious. Yeah, Buck 2.80…that’s the answer to the Debt crisis.”
The next day, it was written into the Congressional record that the new Debt Limit is $16.7 trillion plus a Buck 2.80. Global financial markets rallied on the news.
Disclaimer: all stories in Bizarreville are fiction, even though we wish they were true.
Recently, a convicted kidnapper and rapist who had fully admitted guilt in trial was found hanged in his prison cell. The story of his disgusting crimes and trial had made national news, so the hanging was deemed equally newsworthy by the Bizarreville national press. Meanwhile, officials at the prison were under heavy pressure to do something about it, and not just sweep it under the rug…not realizing the fact that there were actually no rugs at the prison in question, and very few brooms, for that matter.
The prison warden, after fully assessing the situation with his staff, decided to do something about it. They decided to issue ropes to every hard-core prison inmate, install load-tested hooks in every cell, and equip each cell with easily kick-out stools. Doing this would alleviate the perplexing problem of the inmate having to fiddle with a darn bed sheet to somehow tie a noose, while looking for something/anything to latch onto in the sparsely-equipped jail cell. One junior-level prison official suggested they provide ropes in an array of designer colors, so that the inmate could choose a rope that would look non-clashing with his prison garb in the aftermath photos.
The warden speculated that if the concept was adopted nationwide, it could save the taxpayers billions of dollars in costs of caretaking the scoundrels and dirtbags for the rest of their lives. He viewed it as the most humane thing to do, particularly for the 100-year and up sentences, and a win/win for both sides. He further speculated that the ropes used in the incidents might be able to be sold at high prices to collectors, depending on the notoriety of the deceased. He said if they did it at his prison, it would free up his budget so he could feed the rest of the inmates upgraded beef cuts on Taco Night at the prison.
“The long-termers are looking for a quick way out of their hopeless situation,” said the prison warden, a veteran of 31 years at the prison. “What’s the point in holding them in this dump for 30, 40, 60 years? There’s a warm spot waiting for them on the other side.”
Some liberal groups have already started protesting the move, calling it barbaric…something they would have expected to see in the Middle Ages…thought up by some guy named Igor, the town’s resident hunchback. The warden was offended by that comment, indicating that Igor was the name of his new grandson, and did not appreciate the jinx that he might develop a lumbar problem in the future.
The Head of the Bizarreville Bureau of Prisons Thug Division said they would take the proposal under advisement. They have been concerned about the rising cost of inmate Health Care with the new government requirements, and this initiative could conceivably offset the increases.
Disclaimer: all stories in Bizarreville are fiction, even the ones that sound so ridiculous that they could almost be true.
The Bizarreville War Council met 3 days and 3 nights on the wrenching issue of whether or not to go to war with Sycolia. The Defense Secretary, reflecting the views of the heads of all the military branches, wanted to nuke the bloody a-holes. He knew, through all his years of military experience, that the only way to send a message was to send the Miracle on 34th Street Santa Clause letter barrage version. Timidity was for sandbox players…take that back, even sandboxers needed aggression when the sand starts flying. Besides, their stockpile of nukes was nearing their expiration dates, and needed to be used or tossed.
The other side of the table spoke for diplomacy, negotiation, and light sanctions, at most…and “do nothing” preferably. They argued that escalating the issue would inevitably lead to a full blown regional war, maybe world war, that no one wanted to see happen. They understood the war mongers desire to pick a fight, since it had been decades since a full-boat war had been fought. Human history had shown that wars were needed on some sort of regular basis, and now was probably past due. But they still could not support a war on such a meaningless basis.
Sycolia was, in truth, a country that almost no one gave a crap about. The country had no important resources, had no particular geographic value, had no wealth worth plundering. It was a country that had gotten captured and recaptured over history, with the captors often saying “Remind me again…why did we bother?” just before packing it in and leaving. The habitants of Sycolia were an unruly bunch of radical nimrods who could only be peacefully managed by a tough no-nonsense ruler who excelled at herding cats. They had such a ruler now.
The world-caring problem bubbled up when the ruler began using weapons of mass-disgusting on his own people. If he had shot the mobs of protestors with machine guns, frankly, no one would have cared. But when he started using catapults loaded with piles of human excrement…well, that was beyond the pail. Dozens and dozens of protestors began uncontrollably vomiting, choking to death in a scene of indescribable disgustingness. It was no wonder it grabbed world attention.
But for the rest of the world, the attention was limited to firm scolding. No other country was willing to escalate it into a s#!t war coalition. No one else seemed to really care about what Sycolians did to each other, and would prefer to just change the channel rather than watch the play-by-play. Bizarreville would have to go it alone if it wanted to confiscate these evil weapons.
The President claimed he wanted to review the options with congress, but they were still adjourned for their 2-month summer break. He had petitioned them to reconvene for this vital national crisis, but most just laughed. “Put me down for a No,” several emailed from their beach houses.
The President indicated he would go forward without the support of congress, the public, the allies, friends, family, colleagues, world opinion, or his barber. He said that his pedicurist supported his position, but was not sure if it represented her understanding of geo-politics or just wanting a bigger tip.
Disclaimer: all stories in Bizarreville are fiction. Names have been changed to protect the incompetent.
The line had 100 people in front of him. One hundred bodies fuming from having to wait for one of two highly unmotivated, thoroughly discharged clerks to finally get to his or her number. “62,414” blared the loudspeaker. Was this the number of people this week? This month? He looked at his ticket…62,513, now only a mere 99 shmucks to wait for. This was just to get a damn drivers license renewal…not an unemployment compensation check, or a donated kidney, or anything that made more sense to be waiting for. The photo camera must be on the fritz or something. Why else would there be such a nonsensical queue?
He thought himself to be better than the shlubs and shlubettes that were supposed to be in long lines like this. After all, he was a prestigious lawyer who became a congressman, with a law practice on the side, not some ordinary Joe. Joes, yes, they should wait in lines. They had much less important things to do today…hey, maybe this little exercise was the highlight of their drab day.
He thought back to the old days when his life was more drab…back to the days just after graduating college with no job offers in his field of study. A friend of an uncle had convinced him that Entomology was the hot career of the next century. Fact is: he truly did thoroughly enjoy his Masters thesis work researching/examining the Eating Habits of the Housefly. But, sadly, no corporate recruiters seemed to make the seemingly obvious connection on how this unique skillset could help guide them on their roads to excellence. Vinnie Shlango did, however, when he offered him the pizza delivery job, instructing him to get creative in devising clever diversions to keep those nasty flies from buzzing the pizzas in the back of the van. Even that drab job had its interesting moments. Never did quite figure out if it was the pizza itself or the diversion that caused so many customers to complain. Could have been the box made of recycled paper…who knows what sleazy components could have gone into that mixing tub? 62, 415 squawked the speaker.
Maybe he would introduce a bill into congress to address this ridiculous bureaucratic nightmare of simple license renewal. Could be a tough sell to his colleagues who tended to favor complex bureaucracy and dismiss simplicity. This was the organization, after all, that figured out how to make the Postal Service less efficient, more customer un-friendly, and more costly…accomplishing what was known as the “Trifecta” in their little circles. The Licensing function clearly already had 2 of the 3 legs, and probably just needed a fee redoubling to get the third. 62, 416.
He was gradually becoming a convert to the notion that people wanted rules and procedures, not so-called freedom. Freedom meant unfairness to many people, giving free rein to exploiters to run amok and trample the exploitees. Thinking back, hell, even Vinnie was a friggin’ exploiter, demanding a cut in all his delivery boys’ tips to “help pay for gas.” All that Econ 101 Milton Friedman Free to Choose malarkey was just capitalist propaganda, assuming that people were smart enough to make their own wise choices. Ha, wishful thinking! These were people who struggled on whether to watch the NFC or AFC game of the week, let alone make decisions on whether to put in an extra hour on the job, or sign up for a course to advance their education. 62, 417.
A lady’s voice came across the loudspeaker saying that the office would close in 15 minutes, and that all those with numbers above 62,426 could come back tomorrow when the count would resume. She apologized for the long wait, saying they were just shorthanded today, and maybe it would be better tomorrow. She encouraged everyone to not lose their ticket, or else would have to get a new number at the back of the line. One line-waiter got frustrated and belligerent, yelling out “This is bull$#!t.” Within 3 seconds, a security officer confiscated his ticket and whisked him out the door. A hummmm resonated through the crowd.
The congressman pulled out his Blackberry and sent a message cancelling all meetings for the next day, and putting meetings the following day on tentative hold. Trifecta potential for sure, he thought. 62, 418.
Disclaimer: all stories in Bizarreville are fiction. Nothing in real life could be this crazy.
Attention Bizarreville nation……
Our new book has now been published…Bizarreville Campfire Stories. This is a new book of 36 fun little stories, chock full of whimsy, hyjinx, and satire, with a splash of irreverent humor thrown in for good measure. Here is just a quick sample of the stories:
Grabbing Karl is a story about a neo-socialist movement leader who travels back in time to grab Karl Marx and bring him to the 21st century to help launch his new movement. Karl has interesting takes on social development over the past 150 years.
Nowhere is about a little town in need of federal funding to rebuild a bridge which is ready for collapse, poking a little fun at the dynamics between town leaders and their legislator who is not too keen on the idea of yet another bridge to nowhere.
Diary of a Recovering Tax-and-Spendaholic traces the writings of a poor legislator afflicted by this debilitating disease, as he desperately tries to figure out how to get his problem under control.
The Freeload Tree is the enchanting story of an amazing tree whose leaves perfectly resemble a 20-dollar bill, and takes us through the humorous outcomes as more and more of the public becomes aware of it.
The Unlevel Playing Field is the tale of a college football programs with a poor winning history coming up with a creative solution to improve their home field advantage.
The End of Customer Service is the story of the last company in the country that offered real customer service before introducing a brand new marketing strategy that revolutionized the industry in a different sort of way.
War Inc is an interesting business success story, as a young startup company tries to convince country after country to outsource their war business to seasoned pros, but then gets unexpectedly ambushed by a war discounter.
Revenge of Ponzi is the tale of Fred Ponzi who is fed up with people making jokes about his name, and decides to turn the tables.
There are 28 more amazing, bizarre, zany stories like these. Great gift idea. Get a jump on holiday shopping. You can order Bizarreville Campfire Stories today at Amazon…for a couple weeks, Amazon is offering an introductory discount on the book, so act now. You will love it. We will put a link to Amazon on our website soon, but for now, just go on Amazon and put the book title in the search block.