Garden Gnomes: The Bizarre Truth Behind Global Warming

 Conspiracy Theories, Humor, News of the Weird, Parody, Pop Culture, Science, Tall Tale Tuesdays  No Responses »
Mar 062012
 

Pro­fes­sor Theodor Dres­den of Wiener­schnitzel Uni­ver­sity in New Braun­fels, Texas has pub­lished a star­tling the­ory about cli­mate change in the local edi­tion of the Thrifty Nickel.  Smack dab between ref­er­ences to John 3:16 and a list­ing for a slightly used trom­bone, Pro­fes­sor Dres­den revealed that the true cause of global warm­ing was not human-induced green­house gases, but in fact gar­den gnomes.

These ceramic or plas­tic repli­cas of small earth sprites, usu­ally with beards and pointy hats, are rais­ing tem­per­a­tures on the planet due to the sun bounc­ing off the small stat­ues’ reflec­tive paint, thereby rais­ing tem­per­a­tures faster than trees are falling in the rain­forests on the planet via a process referred to as global gnoming.

““Peo­ple think gar­den gnomes are cute, but they are mis­taken,” said Pro­fes­sor Dres­den.  “Every time they buy one, they are killing Mother Earth.  You might as well as God to aim His big hairdryer on mother earth and drown all the poloar bears.”

Recently arrested for steal­ing a gar­den gnome from the front yard of his neigh­bor, Pro­fes­sor Dres­den claims that global gnom­ing is heat­ing the world up even faster due to the fad of tak­ing one’s gar­den gnome to the beach, which raises the tem­per­a­ture even faster.

Pro­fes­sor Dres­den has recently started a Kick­starter cam­paign to raise 2 bil­lion dol­lars to build a rocket to carry all of the gar­den gnomes on Earth into orbit.

Rose Wig­gins, 63, Pro­fes­sor Dresden’s, said, “This is all a crock.  If I don’t see my gar­den gnome back under my hum­ming­bird feeder by tomor­row morn­ing, she’s going to hob­ble over to his house tomor­row morn­ing and break his kneecaps with her walk­ing stick.”

Pro­fes­sor Dresden’s office had no comment.

Scientists Discover That Chicken Does Not Actually Taste Like Chicken

 Animals, Food, Humor, News of the Weird, Parody, Science, Tall Tale Tuesdays  No Responses »
Sep 062011
 

Dr. Sven Sven­son, Head of Savorol­ogy at the Uni­ver­sity of Minneapolis/St. Paul (UMSP), announced today that his team of researchers have dis­cov­ered that chicken does not actu­ally taste like chicken–it tastes like imi­ta­tion mammoth.

A few weeks ago, a con­struc­tion lay­ing the foun­da­tion for a Dunkin Donuts in Curdsville, located in the north­east cor­ner of Min­nesota, unearthed the frozen remains of a baby wooly mam­moth.  The fore­man brought the mam­moth to Dr. Robert Tins­ley, head of pale­on­tol­ogy at UMSP, but the time he arrived, Dr. Tins­ley was already three sheets to the wind, being that it was poker night for the PhDs.  On a dare from Dr. Tins­ley, Dr. Sven­son slapped a piece of mam­moth rump roast on his George Fore­man grill and then pro­ceeded to eat it.  Dr. Sven­son was sur­prised that the mam­moth did in fact taste like chicken, giv­ing merit to the axiom that cliches are cliches because they are based on the truth.  He stole the mam­moth car­cass and sur­prised his staff with lunch the next day.  His employ­ees con­firmed that the mam­moth did indeed taste like chicken.  This war­ranted fur­ther research, and by din­ner­time, the Depart­ment of Savorol­ogy had con­sumed the entire mammoth.

Once Dr. Tins­ley recov­ered from his poker night hang­over, he paid Dr. Sven­son a visit and demanded that he return the mam­moth to him.  Dr. Sven­son obliged by stick­ing his fin­ger down his throat and vom­it­ing the con­tents of his stom­ach onto Dr. Tins­ley, who threat­ened to destroy Dr. Sven­son and left in a  huff.

The next week, Dr. Sven­son pro­duced a pre­his­toric graphic novel to a uni­ver­sity dis­ci­pli­nary com­mit­tee that doc­u­ments that when mam­moths died out, pre­his­toric turned to chick­ens as imi­ta­tion mam­moth meat and that humans even­tu­ally for­got about it.  Dr. Tins­ley responded by say­ing that this pre­his­toric graphic novel is a sad attempt to deflect blame away from Dr. Sven­son for his actions.  The Pres­i­dent of UMSP, Don­ald Bethesda said that even though this pre­his­toric graphic novel appears to have been drawn on con­tem­po­rary copy paper, the claim is too intrigu­ing not to inves­ti­gate further.

Dr. Sven­son said that he is being sin­gled out by con­spir­a­to­r­ial cows who are part of an under­ground moo cult in an effort to get humans to choose chicken over beef.

How to Scare Teenage Boys Off Sex for Life

 80s, Essays, Humor, Kids, Memory Mondays, Science, Sex  4 Responses »
Aug 152011
 

I’m 43 and my father still hasn’t sat me down to dis­cuss the birds and the bees.  I imag­ine that if the talk had come about, he would have explained it all using auto­mo­tive parts.  (My dad liked to fix cars in his free time.)  Instead, I brought home a per­mis­sion slip in the eighth grade that he or my mother signed, so the Burleson Pub­lic School Sys­tem could explain every­thing I ever wanted to know about sex but was afraid to ask.

I really didn’t have many ques­tions.  My best friend had already showed me a few min­utes of a porn tape that he had nicked from his older brother’s bed­room.  I went over to Kent’s house after school, and he said that he wanted to show me some­thing.  He popped a VHS tape into the VCR and hit play.  The next thing I knew a close-up of a man and woman’s pri­vate parts flashed in media res burst onto the TV screen.  It star­tled me, and I think I actu­ally fell off the sofa.  Not only was I unaware that I was about to con­fronted with gen­i­talia blown up twice its actual size, but the vol­ume was turned up full-blast, assault­ing my ears with heavy breath­ing, melo­dra­matic moan­ing, and cheesy music.

In a few min­utes, I pretty much fig­ured out how all the pieces came together.  And although it sounds like it should have been a sexually-charged moment of self-awakening, within two min­utes the scene degen­er­ated into manip­u­lat­ing the cou­ple onscreen with the fast for­ward and reverse but­tons.  “Before,” Kent said, before hit­ting the reverse but­ton.  “Now after!”  I men­tioned to him that the syn­the­sizer music was quite catchy, and then we went over to the piano and pecked out the melody and for­got about the movie.

So by the time my sci­ence class was sep­a­rated into two groups by gen­der, I pretty much con­sid­ered myself a pro on the sub­ject.  I sat with the other boys in my class as the male teacher went over the basics, anatomy, noc­tur­nal emis­sions, preg­nancy, etc.  This was 1981, so we didn’t have worry about AIDS or tes­tic­u­lar self-exams.  The teacher did dis­cuss sex­u­ally trans­mit­ted dis­eases, though, and he took great plea­sure in describ­ing in detail how the mil­i­tary dealt with syphilis in Viet Nam.

“Our sergeant would make us sol­diers line up every morn­ing and drop our pants.  He’d walk down the line and inspect our penises.  If he found a sol­dier with a chan­cre sore, he’d pull out his machete, and cut it off.”  At this point, I hap­pened to glance around.  I saw a room­ful of wide-eyed 13–14-year-old boys with crossed legs and their hands folded across their laps, gri­mac­ing.  One of the boys may have even passed out.

Sens­ing some con­fu­sion, I raised my hand.  “Sir, are you say­ing your sergeant cut off the chan­cre sore or the penis?”

Our teacher smiled.  “The chan­cre sore, of course.”

The boys let out a col­lec­tive sigh.  I noticed that the Don Juans of our class avoided the girls for a few days.

 What do you remem­ber about sex education?

 

How Ex Gay Ministry for Dogs Led to Pug's Suicide

 Animals, Conspiracy Theories, Family, Humor, News of the Weird, Parody, Pop Culture, Religion, Science, Sex, Social Issues, Tall Tale Tuesdays  No Responses »
Aug 092011
 

“I became an activist for gay ani­mals the day my dog com­mit­ted sui­cide,” says Suzanne Tuff, Exec­u­tive Direc­tor for Pride Tails, a non-profit that records the oral his­to­ries of homo­sex­ual ani­mals.  “We’re all expected to run with the pack; to stand alone and let our col­ors show only taunts dan­ger.  If only Spike had learned to play fetch like the other dogs …

“The trou­ble had begun ear­lier that year when our neigh­bor, Mrs. Arm­strong, paid Mama a visit.

“The trou­ble had begun ear­lier that year when our neigh­bor, Mrs. Arm­strong, paid Mama a vista.  She casu­ally men­tioned over cof­fee that Spike seemed rather light in the paws, so to speak, and, unlike her Great Dane, Duke, who was infa­mous bit­ing bicy­clists, dig­ging up flower beds, and gen­er­ously defe­cat­ing in the neigh­bors’ yards.”

Tuff said that her tan pug never barked at cars, chased cats, or dug holes in the lawn.  “Spike pre­ferred to lounge among the sum­mer dan­de­lions, rolling around on his back and expos­ing his soft belly to the world.  With his tiny, com­pressed snout, Spike wheezed with every breath; the sibi­lance gave the impres­sion that he barked with a lisp.  In addi­tion to being a friend to cats every­where, Spike allowed my lit­tle sis­ter and me to dress him in doll clothes and a long, blond wig.  He sat patiently in a tiny chair–tongue hang­ing out and pant­ing beneath the gold fringe–while Eliz­a­beth and I poured imag­i­nary tea into plas­tic cups.

“It seemed harm­less at the time …”

At her mother’s urg­ing, Tuff’s father enrolled her dog in obe­di­ence school to toughen him up and teach him dis­ci­pline.  “Spike pranced from his fel­low student’s hindquar­ters to another, sniff­ing butts with a dreamy expres­sion on his face.  His affa­ble per­son­al­ity and expres­sive curly tail only endeared him to the instruc­tor.  On his final report card, she sim­ply wrote–Adorable!”

When Tuff’s par­ents couldn’t change her dog’s behav­ior, they attempted to change his pre­sen­ta­tion with a stud­ded col­lar.  “Frankly, it only made him look gayer.  He used to admire him­self in Mama’s full-length mir­ror.  She even­tu­ally threw the col­lar away when a con­firmed bach­e­lor who lived two blocks over from us, told her that Spike looked like a mem­ber of an all-canine ver­sion of the Vil­lage People.

How­ever, it was a church scan­dal that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  “Mama was a sure bet to be elected Pres­i­dent of the First Bap­tist Church Women’s Bible Brigade for trav­el­ing around to all of Dairy Queens in area to con­vert Pak­ista­nis to Christ.  Then Mrs. Arm­strong swung the vote after she tear­fully con­fessed that she went out to water her petu­nias and saw Spike try­ing to take Duke from behind.  The other mem­bers were so sym­pa­thetic that they didn’t pause to think about the fact that it wasn’t phys­i­cally pos­si­ble unless Spike had a step ladder.”

Tuff’s mother tried to rise above it, but a con­fronta­tion in the frozen foods sec­tion of the Pig­gly Wig­gly made her take action.  “As my mother reached into the freezer for a box of fish sticks, a lady wheeled her cart by and whis­pered, ‘Your Sodomite mutt is going to burn in Hell.”

Tuff’s par­ents argued over what to do.  “Mama told Daddy that Spike’s homo­sex­u­al­ity was an infec­tion that might spread to the rest of the fam­ily.  ‘Today the girls may play with Bar­bies, but tomor­row they may sport mul­lets and fall under the influ­ence of ladies’ pro­fes­sional golf!’  She gave Daddy a brochure for Rex Gay, an ex gay min­istry for dogs.”

Rex Gay, which is now under inves­ti­ga­tion by the Soci­ety for Prevention-Cruelty (SPCA), uses a stresses its use of hor­mone and praise ther­apy, but it’s their use of elec­troshock ther­apy that has been crit­i­cized and impli­cated in the deaths of a pair of stan­dard poo­dles, a Bor­der Col­lie, and a Chihuahua.

“As the order­lies were hook­ing Spike up to the elec­trodes, he bit them and man­aged to get away.  He raced out the door as another cou­ple came in with their St. Bernard.  As he raced across the park­ing lot to the busy inter­sec­tion, I called out to him.  He stopped and turned to me with those sad eyes that seem to say, ‘Give me dan­de­lions or give me death.’”  Tuff pauses and wipes the tears from her eyes.  “And then he leapt into the street and became a hood orna­ment for a minivan.”

Tuff no longer has any con­tact from her fam­ily.  She went off to Sarah Lawrence Col­lege and dropped out to begin record­ing the oral his­to­ries of gay pets that she met.  When asked about the value of these sto­ries, since they are actu­ally not in any lan­guage under­stood by humans, Tuff said.  “It’s not impor­tant that an animal’s story be under­stood, only that its bark or meow is heard.”

Jellyfish Bloom in Beaver's Butt

 Animals, Humor, News of the Weird, Science, Tall Tale Tuesdays, Travel  No Responses »
Jul 052011
 

Author­i­ties have encour­aged res­i­dents of Beaver’s Butt, Mon­tana to stay home, since thou­sands of jel­ly­fish have spon­ta­neously swarmed the small town. Sci­en­tists refer to these sea­sonal con­gre­ga­tions of jel­lies as a bloom, because they result from increas­ing tem­per­a­tures and sun­shine, like flow­ers bloom in the spring.

“It was the fun­ni­est sight I ever seen,” said Billy Fox Trot, 67, Pres­i­dent of the Native Amer­i­can Stuntmen’s Asso­ci­a­tion (NASA). “My peo­ple have lived in these parts for hun­dreds of years, and I have no rec­ol­lec­tion of jel­ly­fish ever being in Beaver’s Butt.”

Towns­folk report it was just a reg­u­lar summer’s day when the jel­ly­fish arrived. “I was just wip­ing down the counter and refill­ing cof­fee for my cus­tomers when the Grey­hound buses pulled up,” said Mavis Moore, 54, a wait­ress at the Donut Hole. “Then these jel­ly­fish began swim­ming down the steps and all over town. They’re every­where. You can’t even turn your buggy around in the Pig­gly Wig­gly with­out run­ning over one and get­ting it caught in the wheels.”

Ranger Ted Daniels, 33, of the nearby Beaver’s Butt National For­est encour­ages cit­i­zens of Beaver’s Butt to remain calm and patient. “These jel­lies don’t want to hurt any­one. They just want to do some sight­see­ing, take a few pic­tures of one another stand­ing in front of attrac­tions, and buy t-shirts, pen­cil sharp­en­ers, and beer bot­tle open­ers like any other tourist.”

How­ever, Ranger Ted warns that some of the younger male jel­lies have been observed get­ting drunk late into the night at the local bars, and then play­fully extend­ing their ten­ta­cles to other patrons and laugh­ing as they sting them with nema­to­cysts. “Just put some vine­gar on the sting and remem­ber that we were all young, once, too.”

You're Getting Skinny ... Very, Very Skinny

 Food, Health, Humor, Illness, Jobs, News of the Weird, Parents, Parody, Pop Culture, Science, Tall Tale Tuesdays, Women's Interest, Work  1 Response »
Jun 072011
 

When Ed Tins­ley, 65, a retired psy­chother­a­pist, first moved to Shady Cove, a gated com­mu­nity along Lake Har­mony, near Pos­sum Butt, Ten­nessee, he expected a chal­lenge to fill his days.  How­ever, after meet­ing Nel­lie Roughgutt, 32, a part-time clerk at The Hook-Up, a local bar and bait shop, he soon found his days filled, morn­ing until night, with hyp­nother­apy appointments.

One day Roughgutt com­plained to Tins­ley about not being about to lose the extra 30 lbs. she had gained from her last preg­nancy, because of job stress.  A Late in Live Bud­dhist (LILB), Roughgutt had been unable to find any other job in the reces­sion except at The Hook-Up, where she some­times has to put live worms on lures for cus­tomers.  “It just breaks my heart to shove that big ol’ hook through theirs,” she said.  To com­pen­sate, Roughgutt eats a pint of ice cream every night.  “My favorite fla­vor is Pep­per­mint Cow Patty Pity Party.”

Tins­ley was intrigued by the chal­lenge of Roughgutt’s sit­u­a­tion.  “There are no other jobs avail­able for her with lim­ited tran­si­tional skills, and the ice cream is the only thing that helps her cope, so I had to find a way for her to enjoy the ice cream with­out con­sum­ing the calories.”

The next day, Tin­sely dropped off a CD with a guided med­i­ta­tion.  “Using hyp­no­sis, I have con­vinced Nel­lie that she is actu­ally eat­ing ice cream, while she actu­ally relaxes her body,” Tins­ley said.  “She doesn’t con­sume one calo­rie t all.

“Omigod, it is so real,” Roughgutt gushed.  “I taste the creami­ness of the ice cream, and feel the tex­ture of the crum­bled bits of pep­per­mint pat­ties in every bite.  When I come out of the trance, I feel full, so I don’t even feel like I got to eat anything.”

As a result, Roughgutt has lost the 20 lbs. in four weeks.  She was able to quit her job at The Hook-Up and begin pole danc­ing at The Randy Rhino off of Inter­state 10.  “I feel like I’m in a much more spir­i­tual place every time I grab hold of that fake rhino horn and swing myself around and shake my boobs around,” Roughgutt said.  “I can remem­ber what it was like to be under­em­ployed, so it makes me proud to know that I’m lift­ing the spir­its of these poor guys who hang out all-day at The Rhino, and the fact that they stuff my G-string with some of the money from their unem­ploy­ment checks also stim­u­lates the economy.”

Roughgutt’s hus­band, how­ever, believes Tinsley’s hyp­no­sis CD is a mixed bless­ing.  “I’m glad she’s feel­ing bet­ter about her­self, and she’s cer­tainly mak­ing more money, but I hardly see her, any­more.  When­ever she’s home, she’s lis­ten­ing to that hyp­no­sis CD and eat­ing ice cream.  Some­times she’ll play it over and over.”

Tinsley’s hyp­no­sis CD has also affected the Roughgutt chil­dren.  “Lit­tle Timmy had tod­dled into the bed­room to see his Mama, and Nel­lie acci­den­tally bit his thumb off.  She thought it was a peanut in the ice cream.”

Roughgutt, though remains pos­i­tive.  “I believe every­thing hap­pens for a rea­son, and Timmy don’t suck his thumb no more, so it’s all good.”

Man Believes Joggers and People Who Meditate Are Causing Oxygen Shortage

 Conspiracy Theories, Humor, News of the Weird, Parody, Science, Sex, Theoretical Thursdays  1 Response »
Jun 022011
 

Some peo­ple col­lect stamps, oth­ers col­lect com­mem­o­ra­tive thim­bles, and Phil Moss col­lects bags of chips.  But don’t refer to it as an unusual hobby, because, to Moss, a 54-year-old land­scaper from St. Louis, Mis­souri, it’s a mat­ter of life and death.

“The jog­gers and New Age junkies are going to kill us!” Moss believes that as more peo­ple engage in car­dio exer­cise, they’re breath­ing more than their fair share of air.  Fur­ther­more, med­i­ta­tion has grown in pop­u­lar­ity, result­ing in more peo­ple sit­ting cross-legged on floors every­where and inhal­ing big buck­et­fuls of oxygen.

“The flow­ers just can’t keep up,” Moss said.  “Take a look around you and see how the daisies are pant­ing to keep up with car­bon diox­ide pro­duc­tion.  They just can’t do it!”

Another threat is the sex­ual rev­o­lu­tion.  As more and more peo­ple engage in more fre­quent sex­ual activ­ity, their breathe more rapidly and use more air.  “It’s not enough that their pro­duc­ing more lit­tle mouths that need more air, but as they get off, they’re going to breath more of my air!”  Moss believes that we should remem­ber that sex is for procreation–not recreation–and if one must engage in sex­ual inter­course, inhale a bit of your partner’s oxy­gen while kissing.

When asked about Moss’ the­ory, Pamela Clif­ford of the Clean Air Insti­tute said, “He’s just full of a lot of hot air.”

So, what does all this have to do with col­lect­ing bags of chips, which Moss stores in an under­ground bunker behind his home?  “I’m sav­ing air for when all these self­ish peo­ple use up all of the air.   Those jog­gers won’t have enough air to run to me and cry, nor will those med­i­ta­tors have any oxy­gen left to drag their cross-legged asses to my house and beg for oxy­gen.  I’m just going to open up a bag of Dori­tos, inhale, and laugh in their suf­fo­cat­ing faces.”  Moss pauses a moment.  “Well, I prob­a­bly won’t laugh, because that’s just wast­ing oxy­gen.”  And Moss adds another group to his list.

God Provides to Tightwad ... Or Does He?

 Health, Humor, News of the Weird, Science, Tall Tale Tuesdays, Women's Interest  2 Responses »
May 312011
 

Sci­en­tists were ini­tially puz­zled last Thurs­day when cit­i­zens of Tight­wad, Geor­gia reported that tam­pons rained down on the one Dairy Queen town.

“I woke up late for work and real­ized that I was out of Kotex, so I was dread­ing call­ing my boss to say that I was going to be even later to stop by the store and buy some,” said Christie Mur­dock, 27, a phle­botomist.  “As I was get­ting ready for work, I kept pray­ing to God to pro­vide a tam­pon, so I wouldn’t have to call my boss.  Imag­ine my amaze­ment when I stepped out­side and not just one–but hundreds–of tam­pons rained down around me.  It was like manna from heaven!”

Not every­one in Tight­wad was so thrilled.

“Oh … my … God,” said Tina Schultz, 16, high school stu­dent.  “I am so thank­ful they were new, oth­er­wise I’m sure the senior boys would have done some­thing with them to make all the girls run to the restroom and never come out!  Hey, you’re not going to print my name, are you?”

As it turned out, the tam­pons were not from heaven, but from Hal­cyon Health & Beauty, who were trans­port­ing pro­mo­tional sam­ples of their tam­pons to the Atten­tion Please Mar­ket­ing Firm in Charleston, South Car­olina, when the pilot (a new employee) acci­den­tally jet­ti­soned the cargo over Tight­wad, send­ing thou­sands of indi­vid­u­ally wrapped tam­pons flut­ter­ing to the earth.  Hal­cyon was hop­ing to gen­er­ate more inter­est for the Blood Sucker line of tam­pons, which were devel­oped in an effort to cash in on the vam­pire craze in books, movies, and tele­vi­sion.  So far, women have not responded to the name.

After hear­ing of the source of the manna from heaven, Mur­doch is unde­terred in her appre­ci­a­tion.  “You know, God moves in mys­te­ri­ous ways, so who’s to say that He didn’t cause that pilot to flip the wrong switch?  Regard­less, I’m head­ing back to church on Sunday.”

Oth­ers are only appre­cia­tive of the fact that now that know whom to direct their anger toward.  “My son is aller­gic to every­thing on the planet.  By the time I heard the news, Billy had already eaten half a tam­pon, think­ing it was some kind of snack bar from the brightly col­ored wrap­per.  Billy doesn’t eat processed foods, so nat­u­rally I’m pissed,” said Angela  Till­man, 36, house­wife.  “On the plus side, at least now I don’t have to won­der how to go about suing God.  I’m going after Hal­cyon for tempt­ing my kid to eat processed food.”

What’s the weird­est way you’ve ever received a pro­mo­tional item?

Introducing the Velcro Shrimp

 Animals, Food, Humor, News of the Weird, Parody, Science, Tall Tale Tuesdays  1 Response »
Apr 122011
 

Swiss sci­en­tists unveil the newest mar­vel of genetic engi­neer­ing: the Vel­cro Shrimp.

Now seafood lovers will never have to mess with the tedious­ness of pulling off heads & legs, peel­ing the outer shell off, devein­ing (a euphemism for the diges­tive track).  Instead, the din­ers can sim­ply grasp the sides of the shrimp’s body and pull, which pro­duces the dis­tinc­tive rip­ping sound of Vel­cro.  The shrimp may then be con­sumed and the shell thrown away.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve passed on peel-and-eat shrimp,” said Dou­glas Frey, an insur­ance sales­man from Bobo, Alabama.  “It’s just too much work for too lit­tle payoff.”

Frey’s wife, Made­line, agrees.  “I only used to eat fried shrimp, but after my eight chil­dren were born, I had a hard time get­ting the weight off.  How­ever, with the Vel­cro shrimp, I can enjoy healthy pro­tein with­out the tedious task of peel­ing off the shell.”

On the other hand, some are less enthu­si­as­tic about mess­ing with Mother Nature.  “We haven’t had enough test­ing to fig­ure out what kind of effect genet­i­cally mod­i­fied foods have on human beings.  Still, the rate of chil­dren being born with web feet should indi­cate there’s a prob­lem,” said Melanie Gar­dener, a spokesper­son for the non-profit Don’t @#%* With My Food.  “I mean, Swiss sci­en­tists aren’t exactly known for genetic engi­neer­ing, are they?  Maybe the should just stick with man­u­fac­tur­ing watches, cuckoo clocks, and chocolate.”

When asked to reply to Gardener’s state­ment, Swiss sci­en­tists declined to comment.

Street prophet Bobby Doom agrees.  “Man, they’re going to escape back into the ocean and make love with reg­u­lar shrimp and then grow to the size of Godzilla and attack the city and eat your poo­dle, man.”

Although the Vel­cro shrimp has proved to be pop­u­lar with con­sumers, espe­cially in all-you-can-eat steak­houses in the South, Janet Ter­rell, and Avon Rep­re­sen­ta­tive of Nuck­les, Arkansas has found an alter­na­tive use for them.  “I always keep a few in my purse.  When­ever the kids get rest­less, I give them Vel­cro shrimp. They love the sound and feel or rip­ping them open over and over again.”

Swedish Scientists Discover That Oxygen Makes You Fat

 Health, Humor, Parody, Science, Tall Tale Tuesdays  2 Responses »
Mar 152011
 

Accord­ing to Swedish sci­en­tists, it’s not actu­ally what you eat, but what you inhale that makes you fat. That jelly donut you ate this morn­ing is inno­cent, but that clean air is blow­ing your butt up like a hot air balloon.

Dr. Svetta Sven­son, head researcher at the Swedish Fish Insti­tute (SFI), reports that in clin­i­cal stud­ies, eat­ing Swedish Fish, a chewy fish-shaped candy, has led to par­tic­i­pants to expe­ri­enc­ing a higher sex drive, more focused con­cen­tra­tion, and sight­ing the image of Jesus Christ on bread sticks found in the frozen foods sec­tion of their local gro­cery stores, whereas par­tic­i­pants who breathed oxy­gen responded with the fol­low­ing symp­toms:  cel­lulite, decap­i­ta­tion, and death.

“I gained 30 pounds just from breath­ing,” Tiffany Crab­tree said.  “All that time I could have eaten french fries, when I was just inhal­ing fatty air.  I had to order a pup tent off the Inter­net, cut a hole in the cen­ter of it and wear it as a caftan.”

“What most peo­ple don’t real­ize,” Dr. Sven­son said, “Is that we don’t actu­ally have to breathe to sur­vive.”  Fur­ther­more, one can ingest all the air one needs from foods such as eclairs and cheese puffs, with­out risk­ing breath­ing to much.

The prob­lem arises from red blood cells.  In a lab­o­ra­tory set­ting, they have a ten­dency of tak­ing in too much H2O, then swelling up like blow fish, which turns into fat.  If not stopped, the red blood cells will con­tinue to grow until one’s head lit­er­ally blows off.  “My assis­tant had to run out to pur­chase extra squeegees  and work all-day to get that par­tic­i­pant off the walls of the lab.”

Jane Aber­nathy had always been 50 pounds over­weight.  When she heard about Dr. Sven­son on a TV pro­gram, she decided to quit breath­ing so much–and the pounds melted off.  In fact, she dis­cov­ered that the more she held her breath, the more weight she lost.  Of course, she began black­ing out fre­quently, which put a damper on her dat­ing life, until she met, Mark, a law stu­dent and necrophil­iac.  “He says that when he looks up from his text books and sees my life­less body col­lapsed across the linoleum floor, it moves him in a way that he can’t even describe.”

Some crit­ics of Dr. Sven­son have denounced her stud­ies for encour­ag­ing peo­ple not to exer­cise, since it pro­motes heavy breath­ing.  Dr. Sven­son believes that her detrac­tors are sim­ply full of hot air.