Moronic Half-Assets Sounds the Alarm

Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) Accounting Chief Konrad Teirant is having trouble balancing the assets against the liabilities, even after having cooked the books to a carbonized mess.

Chief Executive Officer Mack. E. Avelli calls in Konrad to hold a meeting.

“Kon, if we cannot make ourselves look good to our investors, we are going to fail as a company. I don’t need you to be honest about it, I need you to make us some more money. Just get it done.”

“I’ll think up something. You won’t be disappointed.”

“Good,” the fifty-something Mack says to Konrad and starts texting his 22-year-old wife Judithann.

It is midnight here in Kankakee.  

The fire alarm sounds for the third time this week at the low-income housing complex, complete with strobe lights, sirens and a man’s voice repeating the same message over and over again.

As the residents of this sorry apartment building wake up and use the bathroom, Moronic Half-Assets (MHA) takes the elevator up to each floor in the tower. 

“It is midnight and you know what time that is! Come on, guys, let’s all dance! Didn’t you see that four-page flyer we left on all of your doors telling you to exercise more? We knocked on your doors because we had nothing better to do! Resident deejay Konrad is on the ones and twos!” exclaims property manager, half-wit and overt narcissist Madeline Topolla-Teirant.

DJ Konrad Teirant picks some records out of his crate, and begins spinning and scratching, rapping over the music.

Resident Tyrell Fowler — out in the hall wondering what the racket is about — explains to Konrad “dude, you cannot scratch 1950s love songs,” and walks back into his unit.

“Let’s get out the glowsticks everybody!” Madeline says as she pulls them from the fire-hose compartment on the wall.

Robbie sings Elvis tunes as he dances away, doing moronic martial arts moves on the in-between.

The MHA troupe packs up their party-gear and heads upstairs to the next floor in the tower.

When the crew are all done waking up their residents, they head downstairs to the office and turn off the alarms. Finally those poor residents can get some sleep.

“Here is your check, Kon. We will write it off as a business expense here at the complex.”

“Great, I will bring it to CRASS tomorrow,” Kon tells his wife and they head home.

“Oh good, I got it,” a resident says sitting in her bed, as she reviews the video she recorded on her phone.

Konrad Teirant heads into the CRASS office, strutting along the halls with a turd-eating-grin across his face as he makes his way over to the office of his supervisor, Mack E. Avelli.

“Kon! You have a great smile! You should smile more often.”

Kon hands Mack the check.

“Oh good! Now you can keep your job!” Mack tells his subordinate Konrad.

Kon says nothing and heads back into his office to cook more books.

Meanwhile, the CRASS phones light up like a Christmas tree. However the increased call volume is not from debtors calling back the CRASS collectors.

“I saw that video on the news, your accounting dude and his buddies woke some poor folks up in the middle of the night hosting some hokey rave party? What were you thinking?” 

Beep.

“Hey, this Trisha Cobb, better known as Gothic Diana Ross. You know, from The Midnight Supremes? We saw what you did when we watched the news. That’s not cool.”

Beep.

“Hello, this message is for Mr. Avelli. I am Geoff, an auditor with the firm Deltoid & Tush. We were asked to contact you about your accounting records. We are stopping by in an hour.”

“Kon, how do we cook the books now? Ya better cook them good this time,” Mack shouts to an empty room. Since he was up half the night, Kon took the rest of the day off to go home and now he is fast asleep, sawing a forest. 

Captured

A black-and-white drawing of a skinny blonde lady photographing a daemon at the mall.

“Ooooh, you’re cute” says 22 year young Judy Avelli, as she encounters Marty the Mailer-Daemon at a Chicagoland mall. Meanwhile, her 60-something husband, Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) cheese-in-chief Mack E. Avelli is outside photographing roadkill. Judy captures Marty on film, while the mailer-daemon captures her heart.

Peppi Wants a New Drug

“Been drinkin’ again?” Manteno narcissist Bernadette Cacca asks her husband, sociopath and portapotty co-proprietor Peppi Cacca.

“Can you blame me?” Peppi replies as he takes another moonshine swig from a jug marked “XXX”. 

“I want a new drug,” Peppi thinks to himself, “one that won’t make me heave.”

Peppi Cacca knows crap is king, after all he and Bern own a portopotty business. Bored with binge-watching the Crap Me Outside Girl rapping on TakTik, Peppi starts looking for videos on how to get high on uTube. After scrolling through pages of unpredictable results, Peppi sits through a four minute commercial and watches a video filmed at Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant.

“Plutonium tastes sweet” the presenter announces. 

Intrigued, Peppi asks YooHoo Answers in their Qannon section if Queue can tell him if snorting Plutonium can get him high. After all, Peppi believes everything he reads on the Internet.

Peppi goes to Wally Green’s and Bucketheads looking for plutonium to buy, but comes up empty. No 11 per cent off sale for him, no buy one, get one 50 per cent off (but never free) either.

Driving home, Peppi gets stuck at a light at the intersection underneath the I-57 interchange. Under the bridge he spots a wild Leona Krabalsky, the Kankakee town troll.

Peppi drives his crapmobile to the underpass, going through the red stoplight because he thinks the laws do not apply to him. Peppi rolls his window down and yells his mating call “git, git, git” to Leona. 

“I don’t want you and I am not for sale!” the elderly hag growls.

“You got some anything good?” Peppi clarifies wearing his turd-eating grin.

“I just might. What’s your pleasure?”

Peppi and Leona shake hands and Peppi peels out after chucking the brown paper bag into his backseat. Peppi rushes back home to meet wife Bernadette at their Manteno shack for dinner.

Bernadette and Peppi sit in their bedrooms, eat their Hardlees burgers and fries and belch a bunch of times. Bern lifts her leg and farts.

“Ahhh, that was a good one,” Bernadette says with glee.

Peppi takes his newly discovered rocks out the paper bag he bought from Leona.

 “Mmmmmmmmm…this is sweet” Peppi thinks out loud as he munches on the pebbles. 

Then Peppi pukes up his dinner since he was drunk. 

Bernadette walks in on Peppi tossing his cookies in their washroom.

“Hey, what’s up?” a nosey Bern asks her beloved Pep.

“Blecccccccchhhhhhhhhhhhh” Peppi repies into the toilet. 

“What were those cat turds doing in your bedroom? I need to burn them. Let me light a fart first to spark the flames and then I will watch them burn in the fireplace.”

Bern watches the glisten and pop, all aglow, gleaming like a twinkle in Bern’s eye. “Ooooh, that smell.”

Disgusted that Leona sold him fake Plutonium, Pep cooks up a way to make some cash.

Bern and Pep team up to make a mumble rap video. Pep raps and plays a single snare drum which fell off a truck, while Bern sings show-tunes while playing her accordion she uses to trick people on the internet into thinking she cares about charities.

The video fails to get monetized.

Bern makes a TakTik viral video lighting her farts and burning poopies in her fireplace which her fans adore. Then Bern runs out of poops because the neighborhood turd-burglar JB Martin stole them all.

Bern makes a collection of her own poops to burn since she needed more, and makes more TakTik videos, becoming an “influencer.” Companies offer to mail Bern free toilet paper in return for her becoming their brand ambassador.

As Bern logs into accept the free toilet paper, the Caccas’ fire alarm goes off from the unattended poopies burning in her fireplace.

The Manteno Fire Department rushes over to the Caccas’ house. 

Bern screams with excitement when the Waaaaaah Machines wail and fart as the firefighters rush to their house to put out the fire, clapping as they arrive.

“Hi guys, I really love those fart noises your fire engines make. Can I get one of those keen blow-horns for my house? I think they will go great with my accordion routine I do for charity and the Turd machine I mounted on the side of the shack to shoot at Gothic Diana Ross.”

“Shut up and leave, your house is on fire,” the firefighter warns Bern as the two Caccas walk away and watch their house burn, along with the poopies.

Moron of the Week 18 Apr 21 – 24 Apr 20

Who likes being sent into the on-hold abyss? Anyone? I will wait.

This week, we salute a very special moron. You might have encountered him as he emerged from the bowels of the interwebs and crawled onto your screen.

This week’s dorkmeister is the Spinning Cheerio of Death. Sometimes he takes the form of a Wonka Wheel.

Other times he transfigures into a watch.

In Mario Paint the moron is this paintbrush dancing like a fool.

Heck, I even got one while writing this article. Thanks WordPress!

For wasting an infinite amount of users’ time, I award these spinning pellets of death Moron of the Week.

Peppi, Bern & The Act of Mating

A wild Peppi Cacca in his natural Manteno habitat utters his mating call. “Git, git, git” he cries, hoping to mount an approaching Bernadette. Displaying the power of his fragile male ego, the Peppi channels his inner Pepe LePew and tries to kiss the bog witch Bernadette, who runs like a cheetah, hiding; plotting her revenge.

How to Avenge Scammers and Telemarketers (Updated Version)

– Ask them if they’ve got beer.

– Start speaking in tongues.

– Tell them that person doesn’t live there anymore. Give them the number of an adult service and tell them that it is their new number.

– Tell them that you’re not there right now.

– Ask them if they accept coupons.

– Start selling them something else.

– If someone calls soliciting donations, tell them you’re poor and ask for money instead.

– Start preaching your religion to them.

– Pretend you’re a recording and say “The number you have reached is not in service. Please check the number and dial again, or talk to your operator for assistance. Recording A4.” Extra points for imitating the 3 rising tones at the beginning.

– Try to hypnotise the caller.

– Play a recording of a busy signal.

– Put on some really annoying music and put your phone up to the stereo.

– Ask the caller if they are single. Then try hitting on them. Be sure to mention your various medical problems, your fascination with odd smells and your shrine to the Lawrence Welk Show.

– Use a voice changer to disguise your voice.

– Rap all your replies to the caller’s questions.

– Ask the caller if they mind if you talk to them on the toilet. Then take a plastic Heinz ketchup bottle and squeeze out ketchup repeatedly. (If you’ve ever used this kind of ketchup, you’ll know what kind of sound this makes!!!!!)

– Speak in ragga chant.

– Try to rhyme with everything the caller says.

– Tell the caller that the person they are trying to reach is a victim of black magic and was turned into a poodle.

– Tell the caller that the person they are trying to reach has passed away, and that you’re the ghost of them.

– Sell them on the “value of high colonics”. Explain your “dedication to good health” in your most convincing, passionate voice.

See where this listicle was referenced by Kirk Cameron and his buddy Ray Comfort!

Can I Talk To Sybil? I’m at the Beach.

A black-and-white image of two people on a video conference.

Kankakee bill collector Sybil Kibble and I had trouble connecting over Zuum, so she went to her local PetMart to buy some dog-food dinner.

Since her favorite — Alpo — was not on sale, she bought this doggie doobie hoping to get high.

Sybil did not get the buzz she wanted after working a long, hard day interrupting strangers’ meals, so she gave it to her ma JoAnn who rents her basement, because JoAnn loves squirrel-watching. What a doozy.

A colour photograph of a squirrel-shaped dog toy. Text reads: "Dog toys and treats crafted with naturally calming doggnip".

[ EYES ONLY: What’s a virtual tip jar? Find out here. Or just look at stuff, that’s okay too. ]

If social media platforms had dating profiles…

Youtube

Location: San Bruno, California

Politically I am:

The copyright police. Wooo-wooo, don’t go to jail now!

About me:

Due process, what’s that?

I am good at:

Kissing up to the MPAA and RIAA, altering statistics for the heck of it

I am known for:

Knocking down content based off accusations alone; installing annoying commercials with cranked up sound effects and bad, bouncy, boingity music before as many videos as possible. I am not attractive among most of my peers, nor most people on the planet.

Twitter

Location: San Francisco, California

About me:

Tweet tweet!

I am good at:

Saying things very quickly. See, that was fast!

I am known for:

The 45th President of the USA and his tiny hands. He is my best customer!

Facebook

Location: Menlo Park, California

Politically I am:

Extremely conservative

About me:

I will tell you only what I want you to know. Shrouded in mystery, I have no support system and I am not good at answering messages.

I am good at:

Giving you updates on stuff you don’t want and not giving you the updates you want.

I am known for:

Useless changes and telling you the same story over and over again. I do not like nudity. Violence is okay.