ITS A VERY SPECIAL EPISODE OF 5 DUMBEST.
by The Defensewife
Broad Bureau Chief
Really ladies? The teased and frizzed-out look is soooo 1992. I was shocked and appalled to witness many chemically-curled heads while out holiday shopping in Buffalo – some even with poofy bangs! What is that about? Is it fear of change? Laziness? Because imma ‘bout to round all ya’ll up for a makeover.
4. Elf on a Shelf
Are we trying to traumatize the next generation? If I believed a skinny, creepy looking clown with cracked-out eyes was hiding around my house with the opportunity to surprise me at any moment – I might actually start to hate Christmas. That’s nightmare candy right there. Next time your kid starts crying about monsters under the bed just remember you put him there!
3. Christmas Joggers
What are you trying to prove? It’s like 10 degrees outside. Go inside and get fat with the rest of us.
Not everyone sounds like this, but there are enough people in this town whose vocal cords are stored inside of their nose to make every shopping/dining/going out experience a cavalcade of air raid sirens. And don’t even get me started about how you all sound on cellphones. My big stupid husband has to listen to you whine and complain about Trent Manuel or Fred Spiller or whoever. Y’all sound like dying geese.
Observe the picture below:
Notice how all the red is around the eastern Great Lakes. Yep, that’s us in all our vowel heavy glory. Notice something else? It drops off very quickly the further out you get. We sound like us and no one else sounds quite like us. We could have mating calls based on our pronunciation. Just shout the letter A at the top of your lungs inside a dollar store and see if some old woman in a perm calls back with it.
Da fuq with all this? Driving around town with you people (or youse guys) is already extremely dangerous. No you have to slow down. Ain’t no bald old man in a ten year old Mazda Miata going to slow down. Not for you, not for anyone. If that means he spins out on the Millersport then that’s just what he’s going to do. [cranks up Bon Jovi, plows into telephone pole]