Joking Blogger Angers Obsessed Toby Keith Fan, Rest of World Gets Joke

(Available at Shirts by Barbara.)

Apparently, not everyone appreciates my jab at Toby Keith. I’ve talked about white-trash at Wal-Mart, fisting against abuse and polygamist reality shows.  Toby Keith is a natural fit.  Read below:

That is really very unkind putting it midly! VERY VERY poor taste! Glad I don’t read this paper.

barbpj@sbcglobal.net

Dear Barbara,

Since you obviously lack a sense of humor, I’m also glad you don’t read this paper.  And by the way, this isn’t a paper.  This is called a blog.  And that glowing box the letters are coming from, is called a monitor. I suppose I shouldn’t expect anyone who gradeated, or at least bought, Honkytonk University to understand the purdee glowin’ box.

Thank you for writing in,
Irritated Tulsan

Everyone else who got the joke:

Stephen wrote, “I think you have a great idea…….Toby Keith….what an arrogant ass that guy is!”  

True, Stephen.  So true.

Blakewl said, “Best blog I’ve read in a while. You really are a talented writer, presenter and visual arts expert. You must have had excellent professors and peers. Keep up the GOOD WORK, Irritated Tulsan! Go F**K yourself, San Diego.”

Blake obviously has great taste in literature, and knows a talented artist when he sees one.  And by the way, I have awesome peers.  Two in particular.

And finally, I think Amy summed it up best, “I agree with Barbara. If I saw a 50-foot Toby Keith I would be very offended as well. Barbara, thanks for standing up for the overly-nationalistic, red-neck multi-millionaire. You’ve got guts. Oh and by the way, since you don’t seem to pick up on this subtlety, THIS IS SARCASM!”

Well put Amy.

 

 

Slow for the Toby Zone

     California Department of Transportation runs a campaign called “Slow for the Cone Zone.”  It is a public awareness campaign to lower the number of collisions in construction zones.

     Oklahoma Department of Transportation has started a similar campaign cleverly titled “Slow for the Cone Zone.”  Fifty-three ODOT workers have been killed because of work zone accidents.

     Could we not come up with a better campaign?

     There is an alternative to the “Slow for the Cone Zone” campaign that Oklahomans would understand, and slow down for.  It’s called for “Slow for the Toby Zone.”

     Instead of small “Slow for the Cone Zone” signs that nobody will pay attention to, what we need is a 50-feet tall cutout of Toby Keith’s head. 

     The head could be placed on the lanes next to the construction zone and drivers must drive through the mouth of Toby Keith.

     Once inside the mouth, drivers will travel down a long tunnel to the frightening brain of Toby Keith:

     Some of the features of “Slow for the Toby Zone” would be:

     1)    Horses drinking beer.

     2)    Angry Americans.

     3)    A picture window of people eating in Toby Keith’s I Love this Bar & Grill restaurant.    

     4)    A drunk Whiskey Girl, with no teeth.

     5)    An audio clip of “I Wanna Talk About Me,” skipping like a broken record.  “I wanna talk about meh-I      wanna talk about meh-I wanna talk about meh-I wanna talk about meh.”

     6)    A giant oil painting of Toby Keith on a fur rug saying, “Who’s Your Daddy?”

     7)    And finally, Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks will sign autographed copies of her FUTK (Friends United in Truth and Kindness) fashion line.

     The Shock’n Y’all value of Toby Keith’s mind will force drivers to slow down.  It could also encourage drivers to find alternate routes and stay away from construction zones.

     Construction crews are safe, and we avoid Toby Keith’s mind.

     Everyone wins.

Mommy is Aging and Doesn’t Give a F#@!

            

            When Botox first hit the market, I lived with it. Anyone who injects poison in their face deserves to look like an expressionless alien. 

            The frozen forehead look goes perfect with swollen lips; unnaturally smooth skin, 50-year-old perky breasts and flat stomachs with missing navels.

            Then anal-bleaching arrived.  Fine.  Burn the outer layer of flesh off your anus.  I don’t care.

            Now I hear about the children’s book, “My Beautiful Mommy.”

            Dr. Michael Salzhauer, Florida plastic surgeon, wrote the book to explain to children that it is perfectly natural to cut and rearrange your body to fit in social norms.

            We have become obsessed with cosmetic surgery to the point where children’s books are written to explain Mommy’s new vagina.

            How about a realistic book titled, “Mommy is Aging and Doesn’t Give a F#@! What Anyone Thinks, Now Go Clean Your Room.” 

            That’s a book I would read

            What’s next?  Bacne (back acne) transplant?  Nothing screams youth like acne.  Next time one of those zits pops on your back, have your plastic surgeon move it to your face.

            How about pube straightening?  Give you lover a soft cushion to lay their face on when they go down on you.   

            What you need to do is called lowering your standards.

            Don’t waste your time and money on products that will never attract your Brad Pitt.  Seek out the 500-pound, sweaty man, with four inches of back hair poking out of the neck of his shirt. 

            When you finally meet that average looking guy, you’ve won because he’s above your new low standard.

            If you resort to Botox, anal-bleach, breast lifts, tummy tucks, bacne transplants and pube straightening, you’re obviously too self-conscious about your looks.  That is what turns most people off, lack of self-worth. 

            There is nothing more unattractive than a person who mopes around and can’t figure out why nobody loves them.

            Want to know why nobody loves you?  You whine too much.           

            Save your money, stay in your league and accept yourself for the ugly mess that you are …  unless you’re F#@!ing rich. 

Dear Brad Henry

     The state of Oklahoma voted for Clinton in the primary election, but our governor decided we’re not smart enough to make out own decisions and cast his vote for Obama.

     I, along with the dozens of other voters that turned out for the primary, would like to say, “Thank you jackass.”

     After years of dedicated voting, your actions finally taught me something I’ve been told for years, my vote doesn’t count.  At least not this time.

     I’m that annoying friend that says, “It’s important to vote,” “Exercise your rights,” and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.

     I’m also that person that votes at 7 a.m. just for the “I voted” sticker.  I wear it all day.

     Now in my friends’ eyes, I look like an idiot.

     I have always believed I was fortunate enough to live in a country where I had a say in the government.  But nooooooooo, you had to come along and change that.

     If I knew no matter how I voted you had already made a decision, I would have focused my attention on something more important, American Idol.  At least my vote counts there.

     Who do you think was responsible for Sanjaya?

     That’s right, I voted for him.  Each week.  And the week I didn’t vote, he lost.  My voted counted there.  What am I suppose to now?  I haven’t even watched this season.  It’s too late to catch up.

     Maybe you are on to something.  Maybe we’re not smart enough to make our own decisions. 

     After all, we did vote for you.

All Roads Lead to Yaw Eno - Week 2

Yep.  Still upside down, and on the wrong side of the street.

 

(Photos taken 4/23/08 at 5:30 p.m.)

World’s Oldest Person Dies at Surprise Party

(Fake News.  Satire.)

     The world’s oldest person died Tuesday after her family threw her a surprise party.

     Ruby Evans, former official world’s oldest person, fell over dead from a heart attack after her family jumped from behind the curtains and yelled “Surprise!”

     The surprise party was not the first for Evans, but would have been the first she remembered.

     “Her mind was gone by age 92,” said Gloria Evans, 42, Ruby’s great-great-great-granddaughter.  “She would have loved seeing her family, if she knew who any of us were.”

     Family members said they appreciated being with Evans during her last moments.

     “She said something like ‘gah’ and ‘you’re killing me,’” Gloria said.  “She was always a jokester.  We thought she was kidding.”

     The party lasted two hours before one family member thought Ruby’s joke went too long.

     “She was cold,” said Lilli Evans, 5.  “It was icky.”

     Lilli has created an art collection in remembrance of Ruby, called “Harvest.”  The collection features ghosts, crying children and tall figures in hooded black robes.

    “The man with no skin on his finger pointed at me,” Lilli said.  ”Mommy couldn’t see him.”

     Gloria said Lillie has picked up Ruby’s sense of humor.

     “She keeps spinning her head like an owl and vomiting,” Gloria said.  “It’s just a phase.  We all went through it.”

     Lilli’s art has extended to poetry.

     “The destiny of the lost is a place in the lake of fire,” Lilli screamed.

     Ruby would have celebrated her 123^rd birthday.

Who Wants to Marry a Polygamist

    

(Ad Parody)

     As I surfed from CNN to E! to VH1, a brilliant idea came to mind.  A new reality show where everyone is a winner.

     “Who Wants to Marry a Polygamist.”

     It is a combination of “The Bachelor,” “Rock of Love,” and “Oprah’s Big Give.” 

     The program is filled with the lack of romance of “The Bachelor”, the sincerity of “Rock of Love,” and the warmth of “Oprah’s Big Give,” minus the warmth

     One male, Jon, has his choice of 24 average, homely-looking, women with denim dresses and their hair in buns.  After 16 weeks of exciting dishwashing, laundry and baking, Jon marries all of them.  No drama or jealousy among this crowd. 

       Nine months after the runaway ratings success of “Who Wants to Marry a Polygamist,” a second series is taped.

     The spin-off of “Who Wants to Marry a Polygamist” will air on Discovery Health Channel.  It will be called “Jon and Kate and Aasta and Ciri and Kalyn and Liola and Summer and Flower and Rainbow and Ubah and Xan and Mulva and Kara and Dorfa and Claetra and Berna and Zya and Nirena and Lawn and Elona and Ronilla and Starbuck and Verneta and Blonda and Myrthina and Peggy Sue plus 80.”

     The family will live on a “ranch,” which most people will mistakenly call a compound.  Comedy is sure to ensue because of this misconception.

     The real drama begins when all the children are removed to a fate worse than a polygamist cult, the Texas Department of Family and Protective Services.

     America votes on which children remain in state custody.

     Eventually the country realizes foster care will screw the kids up more than the cult would, and the children go home.

     The end.

Fisting Against Abuse

     April is National Child Abuse Prevention Month. For abusers, that means their children must be beaten between January and March.

     Most of the focus against child abuse comes after April 15, tax day.  Taxes are stressful, and sometimes parents need something to beat.

     By April, the in-bred white-trash folks that beat their children hear about this strange anti-beating concept.  Abusers think to themselves, “Am I an abuser?”  “Should I seek counseling?”  “Is it wrong to beat my child when he breaks the tab on my beer can and I can’t open it?”

     Yes. 

     Yes. 

     Depends on the brand.

     The Parent Child Center of Tulsa has a project called “Pinwheels in the Park.” Thousands of pinwheels are placed throughout the city to commemorate the lives affected by child abuse. 

     Unfortunately, the message tends to get lost in the pretty colors of the pinwheels.  The abuser doesn’t receive the message.

     Abusers don’t feel guilty when they see a pinwheel.  They think, “Wow!  Free pinwheels!”  They’ll stop, pick a few pinwheels and take then home to their children as if they were flowers for a battered wife.

     What this campaign needs is something that will truly draw attention and make a real statement. 

     Rubber fists.

     Replace all the pinwheels in the city with rubber fists.

     Fists can be purchased in any adult bookstore, or online in a discrete brown paper wrapped box.

     The “Pinwheels in the Park” campaign can become “Fisting Against Abuse.”

     On the kick off day, concerned citizens can hold hands, form a prayer circle, raise their fists in the air and say, “No more abuse!  Fisting against abuse!”

     Miniature fists can be made into necklaces and given to children with helpful numbers to call if they suspect abuse.

     This could spread beyond city borders, “Fisting Across America.”

     We can all be proud of this campaign.  Send a real message against child abuse. 

     Remember, fists beat children, not pinwheels.

Tulsa Fertility Center Conspiracy

          

The Tulsa Fertility Center is located in a former Luby’s Cafeteria location.

Where I used to eat chicken fried steak with gravy is now a place where chicken is choked instead of cooked, and the gravy is made with DNA.

            I have a theory as to why Luby’s closed and TFC moved in.

            The customers died.

            Luby’s is huge with the octogenarian crowd.  Unfortunately, the customers are either dead, lost, or at Furr’s.

            Furr’s is the only other restaurant in Tulsa where senior citizens can have dinner at 4:00 p.m. and be home in time for “Wheel of Fortune.”

            I believe what is happening is that TFC is trying to repopulate the octogenarian crowd.  Biotechnological cloning techniques have come a long way since the two-headed clone kitten, Sparkles, scared us.

            Once the crowd is repopulated, Luby’s will reopen.

            It’s an easy switch from cafeteria to fertility clinic, and vice-versa.  Both use gloves, tongs, turkey basters and vegetable oil.

            Plus, all those fetuses and clones that don’t make it, can be turned into the latest beauty cream for rich women that have more money than they know what to do with.

            I may be a little off with this theory.  But, seriously, is it any more ridiculous than those people that say “we didn’t land on the moon,” “the holocaust never happened,” and the horrible fashion sense of the Texas polygamist cult.

            Ok, maybe a little.

All Roads Lead to Yaw Eno

Tulsa, Incompetence at its Best.

Yes, these are real.  No, they are not photoshopped.  

(Taken on 4/16/08 at 7:00 p.m.)

Unintentional Funny Moments

          One day as I jogged down Riverside, I saw a man shaking behind a picnic  My first thought is, of course, homeless having sex with a picnic table.  Because of the recent cases of men having sex with picnic tables, I feared this trend had hit Tulsa.  He displayed what I believed was his “Oh” face.  

          I called the police on the pervert.  Turns out he wasn’t masturbating, it was a seizure.   Awkward.

Men on the Down-Low Lose Popular Restroom

(Fake News.  Satire.)

            The Society of Tulsa Downlowers protested Quiktrip’s proposed park project Monday.

            Quiktrip plans to build a new plaza and park to commemorate its 50^th anniversary at 41^st and Riverside.

            The current playground is a popular meeting place for men who enjoy anonymous sexually charged heterosexual gay sex.

            Thousands of men on the downlow will be forced to find new meeting places for hot man-to-man action.

            “This is blatant bigotry,” said Clyde Midia, STD President.  “This has nothing to do with race.  It’s about freedom.”

            Quiktrip Corp. President, Chris Fondue, said the park is a way to give back to the community.  The STD disagrees.

            “As a heterosexual man, who enjoys the sexual comfort of another heterosexual man, I can say this doesn’t give.  It takes away.  It takes away the rights of the STD,” Midia said.

            Midia, who said he is not gay, believes people do not understand the world of the downlowers.

            “Just because I enjoy munching on nachos,” Midia said, “doesn’t mean I can’t use a Dirty Sanchez every now and then.”

            Garno Rhea, STD member, believes there is a double standard in heterosexual gay sex.

            “Sure, when you have sex with your hunting buddy, it’s turned into a movie,” Rhea said, “but when it’s anonymously done in a park bathroom, everyone’s a critic.”

            Midia said the restroom at 41^st would be missed the most.

            “It’s heartbreaking to lose this restroom,” Midia said.  “I’ve met and done a lot of people in that room.”

            The new park will include a plaza, trail, playground and an interactive water feature, which will replace the current interactive water sports.

            The park will be finished next spring.

            The STD plans to choose a new location in August, after their summer festivities.