Short Bursts of Madness

shopping cart rusting

by Joe Buonfiglio

I’m still catching a ton of flak from many of you for the length of these Potpourri of the Damned posts.

“I love your wonderfully weird stuff, Joe, but it’s too fucking long. It’s not like I don’t have shit to do.”

First of all, it is surely not my fault that in this newspapers-are-dead sound-bite-driven 140-characters-or-less world of ours that we have all developed the attention spans of gnats. If “patience is a virtue,” then clearly the contemporary state of Humanity is at a moral disadvantage.  So if you’re looking for short bursts of dark humor, you should head over to my Twitter page @JoeBuonfiglio (  You’ll find comicality more in line with your impatient persona there aplenty.

However, in a momentary skinny-dip into the pool of my own weakness, I will temporarily adapt the business mantra declaring that the customer is always right, and thus offer up some literary fare potentially less taxing on your cognitive inadequacies.

In the past, this blog has provided a mini-course in Absurdism; let this piece now serve as both a refresher and means of your continuing education….


“While Mrs. Bridalbaum wanders the Earth in search of fresh penguins, Pompeii decides it is time for the weenie roast to begin.”

“As Elizabeth worried that her lack of panties would be betrayed as she mounted her steed sidesaddle, the massive explosion at the cucumber processing plant left the whole town in a pickle.”

“Though distraught that the vacuum cleaner refused to release his genitalia, Mr. Blume was thrilled to see that his cupcakes had baked to perfection.”

“I was well aware that feeding the garden gnomes was punishable by excessive fines, but my artisanal flatulence protected me from the emotional spiral.”

“While the ironically sentient shopping cart spent an eternity rusting in its incessant abandonment, Colonel Pickering plotted a pincer movement against his own testicles.”

“While Bob sucked on the tailpipe of his broken dreams, his significant other exuded all the confidence necessary to defeat the Millennials horde.”

“If pink is the new black, then elderberries are the new Manifest Destiny.”

“Curly Sue recognized her departure from the traditions of fashion, but time-travel melancholy will always trump thee-of-a-kind in a pumpkin patch.”

“Don’t tell me of your inane problems when spread out before you like so much apple butter on toast is a world of edible underwear and discarded dignity.”

“I’d stop and smell the roses more often were it not for the unnerving uncertainty of unexpected alien anal probes.”

“The peach trees are trying to kill us. You can never take your eyes off their delicious children….  Not for even a moment….  Ever.”

“My toilet was clogged by the inevitable rush of pre-Yuletide indignation.”

“While Roseanne’s poops always resembled iconic western heroes, the glass museum’s admission prices moved beyond the reach of the lower-income classes.”

“The eggplant’s posture was excellent, but Uncle Tony’s ‘dance of the breadcrumbs’ left something to be desired.”

“As the crustaceans rose from the sea en masse to consume Los Angeles, Wee Willie Winkie yanked on his dinkie.”

“Painfully reclusive eighth-grade English teacher Esmerelda Langtooth dramatically choked on a chicken-parmesan sub alone in her Coney Island apartment, while simultaneously in Scotland, little Suzie McDermish twirled her hair in a most sinister manner while assessing the ramifications surrounding the moisture content of her undergarments.”

“I wanted to congratulate you on your unyielding survival techniques, but the radiator cap unceremoniously lodged within the teddy bear’s erogenous zone left the concerns of the stolen refrigerator-door handle unrequited.”

And finally…

“While Sister Sloth fleshed out a plan to chill the Earth’s core with cups of frozen yogurt, the end of Joe’s silly little blog was as inevitable as his propensity to throw meth parties and his suspicious addiction to bikini waxes.”

© 2015 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

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