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.

Top Ten Stupid Ways to Annoy People

  1. Write to classified ads from 25 years ago. Personal ads a plus.
  2. Forward those survey emails get when you give away your info at the store to all your friends in your contact list.
  3. Call 1-900 chat lines and ask for pizza.
  4. Burn girlie magazines in the fireplace. When the owner of the magazines sees what you’re doing and gets mad, tell him that you ran out of firewood and didn’t want to freeze.
  5. Wish somebody a happy birthday in the paper when it’s not their birthday. Better yet, make up names (and try to rhyme).
  6. Speak in tongues to telemarketers.
  7. Ring the doorbell at a stranger’s house right when they show the Publisher’s Clearing House van pull up on TV on the day they pick the winner. Then run away as fast as possible.
  8. Pronounce company initials and vowel-less acronyms as whole words.
  9. Call up companies and ask if they’re “hearing”. When they ask you what you’re talking about, ask if you can get an “aphlication”.
  10. Drive a motorcycle up your parents’ stairs when they’re trying to sleep.

This just in.

We here at MoronicArts are sorry to announce that there will be no toilet paper giveaway this year.

Bernadette used it all up.

We are sorry for the incontinence.

Bernadette’s New Bop

Manteno communal narcissist and poopy-burner Bernadette Cacca just discovered her new favorite tune. Maybe she will perform it live for charity on accordion.

Peppi’s Portopotties Drops Their New Rap Track.

An old man raps while his middle-aged wife plays accordion outside a building in Manteno, Illinois.

Manteno sociopath Peppi Cacca and his communal narcissist wife Bernadette wish to advertise their business Peppi’s Portopotties on television. Bernadette plays accordion while her husband raps about how they are king and queen of the throne. Look for their new track on AudioCumulus.

Oh Snap, My Dealer!

Kankakee County karaoke king, poor Elvis impersonator and covert narcissist Robbie Hurlbutt was so happy to finally get some people at one of his many gigs. Robbie believes in quantity over quality, or staying “prolific”, as Robbie says. Too bad his speedball dealer showed up.

Happy Singles Appreciation Day!

Happy Singles Awareness Day from the crew at MoronicArts!

Why be alone, when you could be with Damien, president of the Bourbonnais Mens’ Rights Activists Club?

Happy Birthday Sybil Kibble!

Let us wish Kankakee’s biggest dog-food fan a happy birthday! We hope your day is a real treat!

Three Moronic Years!

Today we celebrate our three-year Moroniversary!

Thank you for reading, following and sharing the woes of these idiots.

The Gang at MoronicArts

Sybil’s Dog Food Dilemma

“Oh snap, that’s the last bite!” Kankakee debt collector Sybil Kibble exclaims as she shakes the now-empty bag of dog food, and turns it upside down. “I am really hungry too.”

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Sybil hops in her white Chrysler LeBaron and drives down to Wally Green’s drugstore. As soon as she steps through the door, demoted pharmacy clerk who thinks he is Elvis, Robbie Hurlbutt greets her. 

“What can I help you find today?”

“Do you have any Dog Chow?”

“We are fresh out.”

Sybil exits, walks by Robbie’s purple clown car with a giggle and gets behind the wheel of her LeBaron.

Sybil parks in the “Expectant Mothers Only” space at Schmucks grocery store and walks in. “Who is going to know I am in menopause anyway?” Sybil says to herself as she walks through the automatic door.

After a thorough combing of the pet food aisle, Sybil comes up empty. She hopes the third time is a charm, and drives over to Bucketheads hardware store.

After walking past the 11% off everything sign, Sybil hopes to save big money on dog food, which she usually scores toward the back of the store. However she strikes out yet again. 

Sybil gets on her smart phone after exiting the store and calls Wally Green’s 1-800 customer service number. After spending 45 minutes in the on-hold abyss, the call disconnects. She tries two more times and her call gets disconnected immediately.

Sybil walks back into Wally Green’s to try and figure out what is going on. She asks to speak to the Manager on Duty. “I am sorry you are having trouble reaching our customer care line. Our representatives are trained to keep hanging up on all callers until the queue is gone.”

Angered, Sybil Kibble needs to do something to relax. She picks up a newspaper and reads the headline: “Nationwide Dog Food Shortage.” Sybil slams down the paper and storms out, heading to the local bar. “I need a drink,” Sybil mumbles to herself.

Sybil sits down at the bar. Before the bartender can even wait on her, barfly and notorious ladies’ man Wally Green emerges.

“Hey babe!”

“Oh, hi Wally.”

“Can I buy you a drink, hon?”

Sybil accepts because she is cheap.

Wally begins to bore Sybil with his tall tales about his family almost having inherited most of Manhattan Island.

Sybil interrupts Wally’s rambling:

“Hey, why are your stores out of dog food anyway? I am so hungry.”

“Oh yeah, I have a secret stash at my house. Wanna go back to my place?”

Sybil looks Wally in the eye sporting a devilish grin.

The pair arrive at Wally’s McMansion. Wally offers wine, she declines.

Wally starts to bore Sybil about his road trip to Florida as he really likes the heat.

Sybil interrupts and asks about dinner. 

Wally offers to cook her a romantic meal. Sybil agrees with excitement.

“It will be a surprise. I know you will love it!”

Visions of dog bones dance in Sybil’s head. Wally emerges from the kitchen with a plate full of gefilte fish, and Sybil almost pukes. 

“You’re not impressed?” Wally asks.

“Umm, no I eat dog food.”

“You’re a bill collector. Makes sense. If you stop calling my store, I will give you some cans of Alpo.”

“That’s my favorite kind!” Sybil exclaims. “But I won’t take you off my list. You owe us too much money.”

“Then will you kiss me?”

Sybil gags and dashes out Wally’s McMansion, back to her own, where she settles for cat food instead.