Balloon pranks aren't child abuse.

I was watching the news yesterday and saw a story about that one guy who put his son's insulin on a balloon that he launched or something. To be honest, I was paying more attention to my inner thigh goiter, which I have named Goity. Anywho, the press is all upset about this guy because balloons scare kids or something, and I find myself standing alone to support this guy. If you disagree, prepare to punch yourself in the nads out of shame.

They say he doesn't care about his kids because they were throwing up during the interviews. That is dooey because kids throw up all the time. Just last night one of my daughters, Wisconsin, threw up twice during dinner, which was one of her favorites: horsetooth and spit soup and fly sandwiches. Every one of my kids has horked on Santa's lap (if you count the guy who rings the bell for donations Santa), and 4 of them have hucked at the furniture store.

They say he was just looking for fame. We all are looking for fame. When was the last time you sent nude photographs of yourself to your local newspaper? If you are anything like me, it was a couple of hours ago. Let's not forget that time I tried to set a world record by heatbutting a ram into submission or the time I tried to juggle dead birds at the orphanage. I am seeing people do crazy stuff every day and nobody else is accused of hunting for fame.

They say he was trying to get his own TV show. Nobody complained about comedians Jerry Seinfeld and Johnny Carson, or noted astronomer Carl Sagan when they pursued television glory. Hell, I even had my own show for 3 seasons, Skubert and Bwoogel Analyze Post Romantic Art Set to Vivaldi While Drunk.

They say he had little remorse. If so, may God have mercy on his soul.

They say he misused emergency services and delayed air traffic. This should be chalked up to a rehearsal for those guys, and the pilots of those airplanes should have just used that time to get a couple of beers or something. Seriously, teachers don’t complain when a student pretends to learn something and later reveal that they can’t read and don’t know what seven plus four is when I was in 11^th grade.

Yeah, and... the guy's not a kid hitter

I hope Duffer likes roses

I have always been close with Duffer Fuffer, my neighbor as a kid. He and I used to do pranks that made people say “Well daggon, that is one of Skubert and Duffer’s pranks. I hope we can put it out.” We once kidnapped Sheriff Moomer’s only son, tattooed “STUPID MOOMER” across his face, and stapled his right ear to a monkey at the zoo. That was a good one. We went too far a lot and got a lot of people mad at us, so we would have to make up for it with a fun prank. An example is the time that we went to the God Church (down there by the good Wendy’s) and got into every car in the parking lot and spun the steering wheel between our butt cheeks. Most of the people thought it was so funny they threw up after smelling their sticky hands. This was our follow up prank after we returned four corpses at Lenny’s Funeral Home to their families holding a sign that said “I’m dead.” We got a lot of bad press after that one.

Well recently Duffer has been putting on some weight due to his love of couch sitting and his hatred of not eating. He had always relied on his metabolism to keep him slim, and his constant jump-squat-farts, which kept us all amused, helped him, too. As he is an incredibly vain person, this recent weight gain has not been easy for him to handle. While he knew something needed to be done to improve his image, he didn’t want it to conflict with his couch sitting, which meant that he wouldn’t be into exercise. Leave it to Duffer to come up with a foolproof solution, though.

I guess he decided to get a sex change operation when he noticed that his man-boobs were becoming very plump and appealing. Now his weight gain is only making him more attractive. I only stopped by to write this article on my way to our first date because I wanted to do a before/after article on our date.

More to come.

Waka Waka way from me, you little pooper

Being a dad is tougher than I thought it would be when I decided to not care about becoming a dad. Wendy-Tina, my best gal, and I have had many kids during our loving, but one of my 4 year olds, Dinbler, is really making my life harder than the others had.

Dinbler is allergic to grass, which really makes his lawn mowing chore hard, and he is apparently allergic to eggs, because they make him real sleepy. This really limits me, because I usually have my kids mow the lawn and let them go nuts on a carton of eggs afterward. Thanks to Dinbler and his itchy genes, I have to let him stop mowing to scratch his hives every once in a while. To help I got him a ferret so he could have the thing working his hives the whole time, but the damn ferret got snooty with me and I had to shoot it.

Back when I was a kid, we didn’t have ‘shots’ that we had to get or ‘checkups’ that don’t do a thing, and we didn’t use fancy casts to ‘re-set broken bones’ or large bandages to ‘cover open flesh wounds.’ When did we go soft? When did the remedy of spit, rust, and sawdust become bad for a chainsaw mishap? All I know is that Brenda, the social services lady that practically lives at my house, tells me I will get in trouble if I don’t take Dinbler to the doctor for checkups and stuff, and that he probably “needs to get that checked out.” I tell you I hate her so much.

Note: At this point I had to take 5 minutes to regroup and punch someone in the neck so that I could calm down. This is how much Brenda sucks at life

If anyone had told me that having youngins would take time and cost money, I would have monkey slapped you and amputated your legs in disbelief. Stupid kid doesn’t pull his weight for crap around here and he takes a lot of my time. Plus, he walks around quoting little cartoons (most recently Fozie, who always says “Waka waka”), which drives me into a violent rage. I can’t wait until he is old enough for me to disown him.

More to come.

Oozers

You may be wondering why I have been gone for 2 weeks, why I’m typing with a French accent, and why my nards have been sewn to my dinker. Okay you dragged it out of me.

Last week as I was leaving the all you can eat buffet at “Cousin Heugie’s Chewy Crap,” I saw two neighborhood gangs, ‘The Rapists Murderers’ and ‘The Loiterers’ having a dance-off (think of Rocky IV but with dancing) in the park. Not wanting to miss a chance to demonstrate my mastery of the Barleysworth Tango, I ran between them with my arms held high as I hummed my own theme song (which I am hoping will hit music stores in September so long as the legal issues go through (it is nearly identical to the theme from ‘Honey I shrunk the kids’)). Little did I know that what these kids, who were not a part of any gang as I later learned, were doing wasn’t any sort of dance off. They were boy scouts helping elderly people across a very busy street. I got hit by 3 cars in 2 seconds.

After Doctors found and reattached my nostrils, I took it upon myself to leave the hospital and get my favorite snack – gooey marshmellow and sesame seed pie. Being in a small town, the hospital is only three stories, so falling out of the window halfway down the first set of stairs in the stairwell because I forgot that I couldn’t walk down stairs in a body cast could have turned out much worse for me. I broke a 2 and a half story fall with my lips. I will admit, it was funny seeing a mother and her son’s reaction to the flash of white followed by the loud “OW, DANG-GERS!”

I awoke two days later to find that my good natured neighbor, Gludenschlvor Atchungsonburg, a Japanese immigrant, brought me some dinner but forgot that I am allergic to Asians. I proceeded to erupt in flatulence and vomit for 15 minutes. The only way the nurse could remedy the situation involved two forks and my crotch.

They released me from the hospital this morning and I felt it was my civic duty to march to the nearest computer to post this account of my latest escapades.

More to come.

Resume

Taking a note from a recent comment on one of my articles, I have decided to post my resume for all employers to see.

Skubert Barleysworth

I live down there by Jeffy and Hucker

(I don't have no phone)

Skubert@internet.online

OBJECTIVE

I want a job and I am good at everything. I am reliable and a fast learner, though I do enjoy my alcoholic beverages and pretty much see all social interaction as an invitation for a fight. I will work for anyone in any position.

WORK EXPERIENCE

(Because there are so many entries here, I will only include some recent ones.)

Dutch Clogs tester (January 8, 2009 - January 11, 2009)

I was hired to dance in a local clog shop with every new model of clogs that old man Fleurben would make. I danced in the window and had to avoid sweating on everything.

Key Accomplishments

• Attracted a crowd of 28 people on my first day, though nobody came in the store
• Broke 14 pairs of clogs due to my intense dancing
• Learned that I wasn't hired to clog the guy's toilet, which is why I applied

Tenor screamer in the haunted house (October 28, 2008 - October 31, 2008)

I was hired to be one of the guys screaming in the haunted house during Halloween.

Key Accomplishments

• Screamed
• Watched some kid pee himself as a direct result of my screaming
• Chased a child into the spider room

Laundry cleanliness tester (September 12, 2008 - September 12, 2008)

I was hired to check how clean the dry cleaners got their clothes by smelling them. I only worked one day because I showed up kind of drunk and threw up on some of the clothes, then I wore someone's pants home, as I showed up without pants, too.

Key Accomplishments

• Smelled over 30 pairs of socks

EDUCATION

May 1994, Graduated 3rd grade

• Tallest graduate
• Best drawing of a tree

May 2000, Graduated 4th grade

• Only man to graduate alongside his son
• Loudest laugh

SKILLS

Skill name.................Skill level

Clapping....................Intermediate

Drinking beer...........Expert

Counting....................Intermediate

Thermochemistry........Expert

Chewing stuff............Intermediate

Yelling........................Expert

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

I am going to be the best thing that ever happened to your company. Hire me and watch your company get better before your eyes. Don't hire me and I will set fire to your desk.

More to come.

When in doubt, drink a beer or 6

A typical Tuesday evening: I am walking home from my new job (this past week it was a fertilizer of personal gardens) and I spot my old friend Yerp Yerp Kwingy walking his parrot. After a few minutes of catching up from the previous week, and a loud scream contest, we make our way to a favorite pub of ours, "Beers for Fears." Generally we split a few brews over a game of pool or a ride on the mechanical bull (who later turned out to be the bartender's retarded brother, Yuble), but this past week we arrived at the bar to find the pool table in play and Yuble trying to get Hairy Pete off his back.

Anyway, while standing there not knowing what to do, we usually waltz over to the jukebox (literally) and check out their selection. We were torn this week between Tatu's "All the things she said" and Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide," and while we set to choosing our first song with a game I call "Insane head kicking," a skinny jerk put on Journey's "Don't Stop Believing," which is a great song, but it doesn't belong outside of Steve Perry Mondays.

Submerging my rage in a couple of beers, I felt ready to march over to the jukebox, push the twerp out of the way, and put on some Celine Dion. Not knowing of my famous "Barleysworth Rage," the punk stood his ground. It was only after this situation that I learned that it was not a skinny punk that I was trying to fight, but rather a bar stool. In my defense, I won.

Celebrating my victory, I enjoyed a few more beers. Then I drank 8 more. You may be disgusted with my behavior, you may even be surprised, but my family crest (below) has not changed in 687 years for a reason.

More to come.

Swine flu vaccine update: two for two

I am known for many things around these parts. Drop my name to a random stranger, I bet they will not only know me, but they will tell you of some sort of incident that I caused that made them uncomfortable. My unique blend of belly dancing and kite flying catch a lot of eyes in the spring, my moral objection to jump ropes keeps me on the alert for young girls (and them on the alert for 'Old man Skubert'), and my ongoing scientific inquiries keeps me, and my furious letters to the editor, on the pages of the Scientific America magazine.

I recently set my brain to tackling the now global epidemic that has people wearing sugical masks around me more frequently then that month I boycotted deodorant and shirts. That's right, I am talking about the swine flu. I knew that few had the smarts necessary to save the world, but if it was to be done, I was the man for the job. I locked myself in my basement, and when I finally got free I headed to my science lab in the shed. Once there, I set to creating a vaccine.

My first elixer was pretty basic, but you have to start somewhere. It consisted of Pepsi, applesauce, and a stick of butter. As I have made habit in my development of vaccines, I found someone on the street, promised them a foolproof vaccine, and had them ingest my brainchild. The guy I got to test my first elixer was not into the taste, which I thought was pretty great, but I ensured him it was worth his health, so he drank the 2.3 gallon dose.

My second elixer was a little more complicated. If my first was like Richard Dreyfuss, my second was like a young, in your face Walter Matthau. It primarily consisted of the water that comes out of a ketchup bottle before the ketchup does and Nivea aftershave, with smaller amounts of carpet fuzz and the goo that collects on the corners of my mouth after I do my morning arobics routine. This one was pretty potent, so my test subject only needed a small amount, which I injected into his right nipple.

As every experiment needs a control, and I don't want my inventions to be ignored because I forgot to have a control, I had a control. I had a third guy drink a glass of windex.

Well wouldn't you know it, my elixers worked while the control guy got sick as an old opossum. So if you want to safely protect yourself from swine flu, come on by and bring $37, because I don't accept insurance anymore.

More to come.