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.
The Bizarreville Congress has left to take a well-deserved vacation after months upon months of difficult, physically demanding wheel-spinning, accountability dodging, high horse riding, wagon circling, and ball fumbling. Anyone who has ever ridden a bicycle knows how much energy it takes to overcome a rider who is continually dragging his feet…it can be extremely tiring. Add to that the mental stress/strain of people who really and truly want to make important things happen, but are just too stupid to figure out how to do it. Grueling.
“People who call us a bunch of lazy, good-for-nothing sleep walkers do not begin to understand the tough physical and mental challenge of our jobs,” one Bizarreville congressman commented. “Take Immigration Reform…imagine yourself sitting through days and days of all-day meetings, debating the same crap about border security walls, pathway to citizenship amnesty, and local enforcement crazies over and over again ad nauseum. You tell me anyone who would not desperately need a month long vacation after that torture. Brother, you won’t find anybody.”
Some have argued that they should take the rest of the year off, talk to their constituents, contemplate their navels, hit the beach, and come back with some sort of notion on what to do. Others have said, if they did that, most would probably get accosted by their citizens, left beaten-up in roadside ditches, and not make it back for the next round of votes.
One congressman had a novel idea, suggesting that the public just give them all “early retirement” packages, just like corporations do to rid themselves of deadwood. “We need to embrace the Best Practices from our friends in Free Enterprise, rather than trying to always reinvent the broken wheel ourselves. I would be willing to be a guinnea pig, or trial balloon, and accept a package myself.” Unfortunately the congressman dozed off before he could complete his thought process.
Disclaimer: All stories in Bizarreville are fiction. Some seem a little more real than others, though. Notice: Get ready for our all new book, “Bizarreville Campfire Stories”, available at Amazon. It is a collection of 36 fun stories of hyjinx and satire, the kind of stuff you will love. More coming soon.
The Bizarreville IRS was awarded the prestigious Leadership Bozo of the Year distinction by the International Council of Bozos yesterday in an impromptu ceremony in the ICOB Weed Garden. The award recognizes organizations that have gone above and beyond the call of duty in demonstrating leadership ineptness, stumblebum levels of in-agility, and lamebrain capacity in helping drag their respective organizations into the abyss of patheticness. The new acting head of the IRS, Milford Feldwich, proudly accepted the award while thanking his recently terminated predecessor for his considerable accomplishments in, what he called, leadership emptiness.
The award is normally bestowed upon fumble-up private enterprise corporations such as Solyndra, Circuit City, The Chicago Cubs, Dog & Suds, Lenox, or Schlitz Brewing…feeling that government organizations have such an unfair natural advantage in the rating criteria. In this case, however, the Selection Committee felt that the IRS had performed heads and shoulders beyond any regular bloated, inefficient, dopey bureaucracy in bozoness…and each day seemed to peel back another layer, as if witnessing the crack design team on the original Chrysler LeBaron project.
The estate of Ringmaster Ned reiterated its dissociation from the Bozo of the Year award and the ICOB. In its statement, family members warned that if they get audited by the IRS because of this award, they would be filing a lawsuit in circuit court so fast that those big floppy feet would look like a candy apple red blur.
Feldwich was apologetic for the organization’s targeting of certain political groups and individuals that “coincidently” happened to be on the President’s Enemy list. He said that those folks would continue to be targeted in the future, but the IRS would also target some names on the President’s Friends list to make it seem more fair. He said that his organization would be cleaning house, but admitted that the people who would be filling the vacated posts were probably just as pathetic as their predecessors, if not more so. When asked about measures to improve accountability, Feldwich answered, “Huh…what’s that?” He then said, “Just kidding. We’re going to make sure all our agents can count. It’s in their job description…I think. Tell you what, let me check on that.”
ICOB noted that there has never been a repeat winner in the history of their award. One committeeman remarked that the agency’s new head, however, has all the makings of a precedent-breaker. He reminded that there is also a Leadership Bozo of the Decade competition, saying that the IRS now seems to be the team to beat.
Disclaimer: all stories in Bizarreville are fiction. At least, so they say.