Is This the PERFECT Absurdist Meme?

Is It Possible? Could One Bizarre Line Fit All?

by Joe Buonfiglio

MEMES: Those addictive digitally transmitted photos captioned with humorous expressions designed to lampoon or call attention to that which the creator feels deserves a little public ridicule or even societal examination. However, they often do not aspire to such loftier satirical ideals and just try to be funny for funny’s sake or, in my case, WEIRD for weirdness’ sake.

As a self-proclaimed “Literary Absurdist,” I found myself on a quest to create not just the perfect meme, but the perfect ABSURDIST meme. Was there one meme-formatted caption that could speak the language of Absurdism so well that it translated any picture to which it attached itself into the type of Absurdist-meme gold that would make Albert Camus or Salvador Dali sigh with utter joy?

While this may be an entirely unattainable goal, I nonetheless shall endeavor to make the attempt.

The absurdist phrase that my grey cells eventually concocted and settle upon:


To my mind, it is a flawless randomly bizarre caption. Now, does it express itself as the true representation of absurdist wonder by translating that arbitrary strangeness to any photo or illustration it adorns?

Let’s find out, shall we? Here are 25 images randomly selected (Yes, honestly!) from my digital library to use as backdrop in combination with the “perfect absurdist caption” to create memes d’ ludicrous art:


I think I’ve made my point.

You’re welcome, by the way.


© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.


Top Ten Absurdist Reasons Why Nobody Cares About Your Blog
(or Mine)
(Which You are Currently Reading)
(So, That’s Kind of Absurd in and of Itself Right There)

by Joe Buonfiglio

Nobody cares about your blog … or mine. Unless you’re already a celebrity or at least celebrity adjacent, it’s absurd to continue to pound away on your wireless keyboard pretending that anyone other than close friends and family gives a shit about your most recent blog piece.

And BREAKING NEWS: They really don’t give a shit either. They just don’t want to hurt your feelings.

Even though it is SO painfully absurd to continue our vainglorious attempt to make a mark in the blogosphere, I’m okay with that because … well … I’M AN ABSURDIST!

I actually revel in the chaotically futile. Mindlessly blogging is simply a natural extension of all that. So with a loose hold on anything resembling reality, here are my…

Top Ten ABSURDIST Reasons Why Nobody Cares About Your Blog (or Mine)

#10: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE pepper-spraying camels is not an indication of evolutionary superiority.

#9: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE melted cheddar has not and will never cure male-pattern baldness.

#8: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE even though Ford’s Model T did come in red, the color black was preferred by viper trainers throughout Canada.

#7: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE Ponce de León couldn’t find Mrs. de León’s G-spot if his life depended on it.

#6: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE free trade shouldn’t be a matter of cucumber girth.

#5: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE the literary arts no longer take into account that pillaging is a forgotten craft.

#4: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE the Center for Disease Control is completely ambivalent in all matters concerning buttered-popcorn flavored jellybeans.

#3: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE the zipper is down on society’s collective pants.

#2: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE springtime Frappuccinos should flow freely from a Panda’s ass, not be imprisoned until transactional payment is rendered unto the Starbucks Corporation. (refer to Starbucks vs. a Panda’s Ass, Third Circuit Court of Appeals circa 1864 following Brown vs. the Zookeeper’s Fantasy)

AND THE #1 REASON NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG: The ghost of Richard Nixon tickles President Trump’s balls from the moment he falls asleep in the Lincoln bedroom!

So blog away, my fellow Absurdists; blog away as if no one is watching … because no one is.


© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.
All photos are © 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio with All Rights Reserved.

JOE’S BAR (blog)

by Joe Buonfiglio

My Potpourri of the Damned blog started off as a simple idea. It was to be a weird forum for releasing upon an unsuspecting world the Absurdist tidbits of darkly humorous mayhem theretofore buried in the deeper recesses of my warped little brain; somewhere between a lark and a malady.


This con-man simpleton overtakes my soul generating a combination of bemusement, fear and intense anger driven to the point of seditious hatred. Watching this orange-tinged putz and his idiot-convention entourage systematically clog America’s collective toilet by shoving all that’s good about this country down it with the plunger of his narcissistic Trumpian ego sends my fingers tap-tap-tapping furiously upon my computer’s keyboard to the point of rendering the action on the typewriter-esque buttons nearly unresponsive.

TRANSLATION: Our dumbass POTUS makes me more than a little crazy.

Next thing I know, I’ve endangered the absurdist-humor brand of my Potpourri of the Damned blog with numerous anti-45 rants.

In my last blog-post, I teased that this — my (AKA site — would be evolving into “Something absurdly wonderful. Something wonderfully absurd,” and Potpourri of the Damned will MOST DEFINITELY be a part of that. However, if my head is not to blow clean off my shoulders in a blood-pressure rush that could launch a ballistic missile armed with the most nuclear of warheads, I will still need to find a home, some suitable outlet, for all my anti-Trump, anti-societal-injustice, anti-anything-that-really-pisses-me-off-to-the-point-of-vigilantism rants. And so, welcome to…

When introduced into the new website coming within the next month or two, Joe’s Bar Blog will be the new home for me to … well … get things off my chest.

Joe’s Bar Blog will be written while I’m sitting at my bar (Yes, at the time of this writing, I own a bar.), and will feature whatever beverage I am imbibing at the time of the given literary endeavor.  For example, at this moment, I am sipping upon the cool libation that is a 12-year-old special reserve Jameson Irish whiskey on the rocks. Additionally, while Potpourri of the Damned comes out (for the most part) every Wednesday, Joe’s Bar Blog is written “as the spirit … and spirits … move me.” This creative process will most likely lead to such commentary as:

Hey, Alt-Right. Looks like your boy Trump is kicking you and Bannon to the back of the bus.

How’s it feel?



You can’t even organize an Easter egg event? How the hell are you going to organize foreign policy … or a war?


What are Trump’s plans for America? Follow the money. Slash the State Department’s budget; raise the military’s by billions.

Any questions?

As well as…

Listening to Donald Trump speak, I now realize that George W. Bush was relatively an outright intellectual.


It’s 12:24 a.m.

… and Trump just dropped in to see what condition my sedition was in.

Not to mention…

The Right is devolving into Theatre of the Absurd. They believe in the Rapture, so get on with it; God can have them all ASAP.


Donald Trump criticizing Chuck Todd’s appearance is like the Alien calling the Predator ugly.


“Remnants of treasonous criminality” refers to:
A) Trump
B) His administration
C) Me on the toilet the morning after 20-alarm chili night

Or perhaps even…

AGENT: “You’re ruining your writer’s brand with all this Trump shit!”

PEER: “Wait. You have an agent?”

WIFE: “Wait. You’re a writer?”

So keep your eye out for Joe’s Bar Blog in the new that is on its way to this space. As Potpourri of the Damned again reverts back to content designed to engulf your grey cells in that which is madly absurd, Joe’s Bar Blog will delve into that which will make you absurdly mad.

What’s your pleasure?


© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

All photos, art and logos are © 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio with All Rights Reserved.





In the coming months, (AKA will undergo an absurdly wonderful and wonderfully absurd transformation.  Keep checking back to get in on all the preposterous amusement … and probably more than a little bemusement.


— Joe Buonfiglio


Haiku with an Absurdist Twist

JOEKU #3: “Ghosts are my Friends”

by Joe Buonfiglio

Looking for Haiku with an Absurdist kick? Welcome to “Joeku™.” Episode #3, “Ghosts are my Friends,” features … well … my ass.

 © 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.
All videos are © 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio with All Rights Reserved.


Haiku with an Absurdist Twist

JOEKU #2: “Tricky Dick is Laughing”

by Joe Buonfiglio

Looking for Haiku with an Absurdist kick?  Welcome to “Joeku™.”  Episode #2, “Tricky Dick is Laughing,” features der Trumpenführer, so … … … enjoy?

 © 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.
All videos are © 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio with All Rights Reserved.

Something Absurd This Way Comes…

Something wonderfully absurd is coming….
… Something absurdly wonderful!


from the mind of Joe Buonfiglio

In the coming months, (AKA will undergo a bizarre transformation from its currently simplistic little pupa of a website into the darkly humorous absurd butterfly it deserves to be. So don’t miss any of the delightfully weird splendor to come…


Go to the subscription-sidebar on this page or click on the “Follow Joe” button down in the corner and you won’t miss a second of my Bizarro Blast that’s inching its way toward this website’s reality as you read this.

See you soon!

No, really. I’m outside your bedroom window with a cellphone camera, a box of wine and some Twinkies right now.

(But the beginning is nearer.)


© 2016 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.
All photos are © 2016 Joseph P. Buonfiglio with All Rights Reserved.

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by Joe Buonfiglio

Ah, the independent-film screenplay; an “indie” script for all you Industry-with-a-capital-“I” Hollywood-insider “beautiful people” types.  Granted, the absurd amount of money some big movie studios will throw at their subsidiaries’ indie-style releases that they’ll unabashedly call “independent” films muddies the waters as to whether “indie” can even mean arthouse micro-budget films anymore.  However, even with the line so shamefully blurred, those wonderful indie-film titles still get my right-brain Muse jumping for joy.  Indie titles such as “John Dies at the End,” “Seven Psychopaths” and “Wristcutters: A Love Story” all absolutely demand an audience by the sheer magnificence of their bizarre titles.

It is with this in mind that I generate my title-driven list of screenplays I’m putting on my literary to-do list.

“NyQuil and Masturbation” — An LA hipster becomes addicted to nighttime cold-relief products in the fast-paced world of competitive “street jerking.”

“The Codfather” — A ruthless family of fish live by a code until a rival school pushes them too far.  (“I know it was you, Shrimp Alfredo.  You broke my heart.  You broke my heart!”)

“Raging Bullshit” — A Congressional Speaker of the House shows his opponents no mercy in the political ring until he realizes he’s going to end up yesterday’s news, a washed-up has-been, when he is caught crying on national TV … and it goes viral.

“It’s a Wonderful Bike” — A boy is so embarrassed by the old banana-style seat on his bicycle that he wishes he was never born … until a bumbling angel shows him how much the neighborhood girls love taking a ride on it.

“Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dildo” — Okay.  Admittedly, I have abso-fucking-lutely NO IDEA what the hell this one will be about … but I can’t wait to start writing it!

“Bob’s Old VHS Porn Saves the Day” — A mild-mannered down-on-his-luck baklava salesman is on the cusp of committing suicide until the Apocalypse hits and the only chance of the Human Race avoiding extinction depends on his collection of old stag films from the 1970s.

Pizza delivery!

“If I Just Blew Chunks on Your Areola, It Must be Tuesday”  — The inspiring story of a— Wait.  What?

“Petticoat Munchkin” — The Medieval story of a diminutive court fool who cannot resist peeking under the skirts of the saucy laundry wenches.  It’s intended for a combination of children’s animation and live-action puppetry.

No, I’m not kidding.

Okay. “… saucy laundry wenches brought to you by the letters ‘T’ & ‘A.’


“Not Without My Penis” — A man searches a strange and violent land for his lost … well … manhood.

“Not Without My Penis II: Not Without My Balls” — A man searches a strange and violent land for—  You get the idea.

No?  What if I told you that on page ten he dips those babies in gold glitter-glue and—

I’ll fix it in rewrite.

“Fatman” —  A masked vigilante takes an autobiographical romp through the after-hours world of triple cheeseburgers and cream-filled pastries.

“Gone With My Wind” — Both uncontrollable and incurable, a woman’s battle with incessant flatulence takes a deadly turn in the antebellum South in a manner that may have just been an obscure, yet contributing factor in starting the Civil War.

“ET: The Extra-Testicle” — Three balls is not always better than two if your spaceship crash-lands on an unforgiving planet.  (Please don’t sue me, Mr. Spielberg.)

“Schindler’s Pissed” — An influential businessman in Nazi Germany during WWII gets really angry when— Okay, seriously, Mr. Spielberg.  I’m begging you.  Don’t sue me.  I obviously have a problem and can’t help myself.  I suffer from terror dreams, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Jekyll & Hyde Syndrome….  You name it.  I’ve got it.  I’m sick in the head.  Ask my wife.  I’m my own worst enemy.  PLEASE DON’T SUE ME!  I’M BEGGING YOU!  PLEEEEEASE!

Right.  Like I’d even show up on old Steve’s radar screen.

God.  That was fucking embarrassing.  And that makes for the perfect segue to …

“Bare-Assed and Buck Naked in the Preacher’s Dodge Omni” — A coming-of-age story placing the biggest piece of shit Chrysler ever made into a delightful hamlet with a dark secret, all set in the quaint little New England backdrop of Vermont’s famous—  It’s porn.

“Somebody Call a Plumber!” — After being crowned state champion in The Great Chili Eat-Off in the Twenty-Alarm Division at the Bumfuk County Fair, Lucy realizes that the mechanics of the porcelain throne in her 1940’s bungalow may not be quite up to snuff when it comes time to give the Devil his due for her blue-ribbon escapades.

“Dad!  Uncle Benny’s Fucking the Monkey Again!” — Sorry.  That’s not a screenplay logline.  My kid’s yelling that at me.

Well, if in some small way, I’ve inspired you to pen your own indie movie script, then my work here is done.  So get to it!  That ink isn’t going to apply itself to the blank page by magic.

Now fuck off.  I’ve got manly writing to do.

“Goddamn it, Benny!  Get the hell off Mister Pepe or this time you can explain to the vet why he won’t stop crying!”


© 2015 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

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