I’M NOT A RABBIT!

AND HEY, I’VE GOT SHIT TO DO.

by Joe Buonfiglio

To quote the late, great Madeline Kahn as the Teutonic spy and dance hall singer Lili von Shtupp in Mel Brooks’ groundbreaking comedy Blazing Saddles, “I’m not a rabbit.  I need some rest.”

Writer’s block?  Hell, I’ve got the entire writer’s Lower East Side!  Not only do I need a break to recharge the batteries, heal up and (if I’m honest) dry out, I’ve got to play catch-up on a number of literary projects on which I’ve fallen WAY behind.  So whether you believe it or not, I’ve got shit to do!

With this in mind, I’m going to take a short 2-3 week hiatus from this little blog d’ absurdité.  While I’m gone, why not hit the JoeBuonfiglio.com HOME and scroll down to enjoy some of the Potpourri of the Damned blog-post gems and junk from weeks gone by that you may have missed.

I’ll be back soon with more high weirdness before you know it.  Ciao.

 

© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

Blazing Saddles is © 1974 Warner Bros. with All Rights Reserved.

SIDESHOW OF THE (Absurdly) DAMNED!

by Joe Buonfiglio

STEP RIGHT UP, ONE AND ALL. WELCOME TO UNCLE JOE’S CARNIVAL MIDWAY FREAK SHOW! Be astounded by all our delightfully horrific oddities and aberrations of God’s plan as they place before you the absurd and the bizarre for your amazement, your amusement and your bemusement by things most unnatural.

Behold and witness the wonder of the man who can make you cry (and bend forks) with the power of his ass.

See the toddler who can turn a potato into French fries with nothing more than his tantrums.

Witness the 500-pound woman who can shop a 24-hour Walmart donning nothing more than her inadequately sized undergarments soiled to the point of modern art.

Marvel at the orange man; able to dominate an entire country with nothing more than the sheer bellicosity of his narcissism.

Cringe at the soft-serve ice cream cone that can recite the entire Bible before melting into a puddle of its own sugary self-righteousness.

Be amazed by the pile of dog poo with its doctorate in advanced nanotechnology as it redefines the Theory of Relativity’s parameters all within the confines of city and county littering ordinances.

Explore the magnificence of the incredible shrinking newspaper industry.

Shiver to be in the presence of the snow cone of doom as it lays to waste the hope and promise of modern dentistry.

Quake at the sight of the House of Wax Condoms.

Laugh as the senior senators from each state fling their own feces at each other whilst riding seatless tricycles wearing nothing but diapers and “Make America Great Again” ball caps.

… and, of course, there is the obligatory dancing bear.

IT’S ALL FOR YOU HERE AT UNCLE JOE’S SIDESHOW OF THE (absurdly) DAMNED! All for the low cost of one Bitcoin bathed in the broken dreams of the forgotten man…

… and a day-old Dunkin’ jelly-filled.

 

© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

 

World’s WORST Jump-Scares

by Joe Buonfiglio

I’m introducing a new playlist feature on my YouTube channel: The “World’s WORST Jump-Scares.”  (And no, I don’t mean “worst” as in terrifying.)  This week’s blog is more of a vlog and is fairly self-explanatory, so have at it and enjoy!

 

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

AN Absurdist WORD TO THE Not-So WISE

by Joe Buonfiglio

For the longest time, I was actually not a big fan of inserting famous quotes into my pieces of bizarre object d’ literati. Reinforcing a talking point or narrative’s pursuit seemed cheapened by such an obvious literary trick designed to act as filler to boost word count. I always felt it made the writer seem … oh, I don’t know … lazy perhaps.

And then I realized, “Joe, my Absurdist friend, is there any more lazy sack of shit on the planet that you, literarily or otherwise?”

Certainly not! Thus, I should not only engage such a blatantly slovenly approach to my obscure scribblings, I should comprise my un-master works ENTIRELY of famous quotes; randomly injected and absurdly twisted, of course.

So, with melted caramel dripping from my chin and toilet paper securely clung to the bottom of my shoe, enjoy:

Farting is such sweaty sorrow.

My fellow Absurdicans, ask not what your country-fried steak can do for you, ask what you can do for your country-fried steak.

That which does not kill you will regroup and try again.

If you want something done right, you’re overly ambitious.

Better to have gloved in frost, than to have never gloved all fall.

Obesity is the motherfucker of interventions.

To err with cumin; to forgive while you dine.

Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you create a drunken dockside layabout for a lifetime.

With great power comes great imbecility.

The penis is mightier than the headboard.

Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what is going to constipate you.

Familiarity bleeds verklempt.

It is always Starkist just before the prawn.

If you are sewing through hell, keep sewing.

A hose by any other name would smell as meat.

The definition of “insanity” is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting a pumpkin to fly out of your ass and sing Nickelback songs all night long, because … well … you’re fucking nuts.

A penny saved is a penny indicating your lack of modern financial literacy.

Ignorance is piss. (Oh right, like you’ve cornered the market on “smart” urine.)

Geek awfully and carry a big dick.

If you love somebody, let them go; for if they return, they were always yours. If they don’t, fuck ’em and sell their nudie pics as revenge porn.

If at first you don’t succeed, give up and head to an all-you-can-eat taco bar as fast as humanly possible.

I stink therefore I spam.

I have a dream that my little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their YouTube channel.

Hell has no fury like a woman the morning after being drunk at a tattoo parlor.

Idle hands are the Devil’s gay clown.

Time is funny.

All the world’s a cage, and all the men and women merely taxpayers.

When the going gets tough, pop open a beer and say, “Fuck it!”

That’s one small crêpe for a man, a giant leap for pancakekind.

Power corrupts; absolute power is a shitload of fun. Absolutely!

Live fast, die young, and leave a good-looking corpse in the trunk of the rental car where the cops won’t find it until you’re long gone.

People who live in glass houses shouldn’t shower until they’ve dropped a few pounds.

One man’s trash is another man’s raccoon infestation.

And finally…

Nothing is certain except for death and taxes … and flatulence … and having a wino try to convince me to give him $10 for gas so he can complete his journey to visit his ailing mother … and always having the losing lottery ticket … and having the boss walk in and catch me looking at porn on the company computer … and bad haircuts … and running out of coffee … and accidentally catching a dog licking his balls as I try to eat ice cream on the bench outside of the ice cream parlor … … … Did I mention flatulence already?

And death?

And taxes?

Mostly flatulence, though.

Lots and lots of flatulence.

 

© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

MY SUNDAY BRUNCH WITH GOD

Another in My “Holy Shit, God is an Absurdist!” Series

by Joe Buonfiglio

Sunday. 11:37 a.m.

God is running late for Sunday brunch. In His defense, He has a shitload of the devout to check in on any given Sunday morning; I get that. Nevertheless, it is more than a little rude to invite somebody out to brunch and then be late. This particularly adds the proverbial “insult to injury” when you consider that I’m an Agnostic and could have been sleeping in. An Agnostic writer having “shit, showered and shaved” by 10 a.m. any day, let alone a sleepy Sunday, is a fairly big accomplishment that should not be poo-pooed upon with the discourtesy of tardiness… even by the all-powerful Alpha and Omega.

“You’re late,” I say stating the obvious with more than a little irritation in my voice.

“And now,” God says waving his hand in a brushing-off motion as He sits down, “I’m not.”

My wristwatch, along with every other timepiece in the building — and probably the world — had just rolled back 37 minutes.

“Eleven o’clock just as we agreed,” He says with an impish grin on His face.

“Of course it is,” I say shaking my head in mild contempt. “I ordered a Bloody Mary while I was waiting. Would You like one?”

“What?” he says with a scowl. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Huh? …. Oh. Right. Sorry.”

Even though the common, yet beloved cocktail — a staple of the Sunday brunch along with the Mimosa — is named after the notoriously violent, ruthless and murderous Queen Mary I who became the first-ever woman ruler of England in 1553, Mister Supposed-to-be-Omniscient seemed to think it referred to a different Mary; one much nearer and dearer to His own heart.

“So,” I say unable to suppress a yawn at that most inopportune moment, “Why does the Man Behind the Universe’s Curtain need to meet me for Sunday brunch? Couldn’t you have just sent me a Burning Bush-a-Gram or something?”

“I need you to—” It was obvious He was suppressing a laugh. “I need you to let everyone on the entire planet know that the end of the world will be here in three days, and I will only Rapture true believers who are having intercourse with a duck at the exact commencement of that End Time moment. Only duck-lovers will get a Fast Pass into Heaven.”

“Are you kidding me?” I say having seen the Oh, God! and the Bruce/Evan Almighty movies; knowing full well it doesn’t go all that great for the protagonist of the story. “How am I supposed to get the word out to the whole world in just three days. Don’t You think that’s just a little unreasona— Wait. What?! Did you just say something about sex with ducks?”

“You want to get into Heaven? Gotta be doin’ it with a duck at the moment the Apocalypse launches.”

“Duck… … … fucking. You’re talking about literally fucking ducks?”

“It sounds so vulgar when you say it.”

“Uh, yeah. It sounds a little Sodom and Gomorrah-ish when You say it, too!”

“Oh, it doesn’t have to be a Mother Goose-type domestic duck per se,” shrugging off the ribald nature of His outlandish request. “Mallards would do fine. Muscovy would be okay; any of the dabblers. Divers are nice: goldeneyes; redhead; canvasback. Oh, the red-breasted merganser is nice. I really like those….”

I slam back what remains of my drink and, while munching on the vodka-soaked celery, leave the Magic Man in the Sky hovering over eggs Benedict while continuing to ramble on about His ultimate plan to save humankind via unnatural acts with the woodland creatures of the lake. His bizarre foul fowl fetish is more than my tiny monkey-brain is able to comprehend without leaving my body and floating between quantum dimensions within the dark space of String 6 and String 7 of proper String Theory.

While I hope — and in my own way pray — that my Agnostic doubts are still intact and this is just some random madman who somehow acquired temporary mastery over space and time as if Doctor Who on cosmic steroids, my subconscious fear of burning in the flames of Hell are ever-present at the moment.

And down in the core of whatever constitutes a soul in me, I know.

Oh, how I know.

There will be duck-fucking in my future.

 

© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

THIS IS A TEST!

This is Only a Test

by Joe Buonfiglio

This is a test of the EMERGENCY BLOGCAST SYSTEM. This is only a test. Had this been an actual literary-absurdist emergency, you would have been directed to your nearest alternative-reality fallout shelter for cosmetic surgery to enable advanced melatonin levels in your genitalia.

Reality? Reality adjacent?

Not even close.

Look at this as sort of an experiment in the philosophical realm driven by the author’s punishing insecurity. Given this…

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

Likewise, as a variation on a theme for this philosophic conundrum…

If a blog is written and no one is around to read it, was it ever posted?

Sure, Friedrich Nietzsche declared, “God is dead,” as did the cover of Time magazine query about the matter in 1966. But as philosophy and theology bang heads over the state of God’s health, the same dispute must be applied to the epicenter of the digital literati:

Is the blog… DEAD?

And if not the collective “blog” and those toiling away in the blogosphere, then what about that which you now read… or don’t (as the fallen tree might observe)? Has this blog, my child so aptly named Potpourri of the Damned, simply run its course? Have I gotten too weird for some of you, perhaps too political for others?

Am I only doing this for myself at this point? That possibility is a rather chilling prospect, I must admit.

I have a decent number of subscribers, but there are rarely any comments submitted by them. Is that natural? After all, I’m not a celebrity and you’re all busy people. I do sometimes wonder if you all follow me and this strange little blogtastic machine out of not sincere interest, but some warped sense of politeness? Although, in the modern age of social media, even the casual observer can see that doesn’t make much sense. Hell, do you even read the thing?

Is there anybody out there?

Perhaps that is an answer I’d rather not know, eh?

So, until next week’s post, PLEASE STAND BY….

 

© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

 

NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG

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.

SOMETHING (DELIGHTFULLY STRANGE) THIS WAY COMES….

SOMETHING ABSURDLY WONDERFUL.

SOMETHING WONDERFULLY ABSURD.

 

In the coming months, JoeBuonfiglio.com (AKA LiteraryAbsurdist.com) 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.

PLEASE STAND BY….

— Joe Buonfiglio

Remember the Unintentional Martyrs!

by Joe Buonfiglio

IT’S THE PERFECT GIFT!
(And Damned Inexpensive, Too!)

Didn’t quite finish the old underground survivalist’s prepper-bunker before Trump took office and now you have no idea how to ride out the impeding chaos of WWIII? Did you not give your sweetie a worthy Valentine’s Day gift, so the Apocalyptic onslaught of World War Three is the least of your problems?

NEVER FEAR!  Let me turn you on to some downloadable gifts that are fun, won’t break the bank and PERFECT for whiling away the mindless tedium of the endless desert of the post-Trumpian Era dystopia. It’s the music of UNINTENTIONAL MARTYRS™

With song titles such as Porn Pin Blues, Bad Words, Science Denier, Unintentional Martyrs (of course) and the Trumpian delight that started it all, Donny, Donny, Donny, you can delight in an entertaining way to fill the perpetual boredom of the Apocalyptic world (and remember what got us there in the first place).

Listen to them all (click on each song’s “WATCH TRAILER” at the site) and download for ONLY 99¢ each here:

UNINTENTIONALLY MARTYRED MUSIC™

Below are a couple samples from my YouTube Channel:

SCIENCE DENIER:

 

BAD WORDS:

 

Each song is under a buck, so what the fuck!

ENJOY!

© 2016-2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

All videos, music, lyrics and graphics on the UNINTENTIONALLY MARTYRED MUSIC™ site are © 2016 Unintentional Martyrs™ with All Rights Reserved.

UNINTENTIONALLY MARTYRED MUSIC™

JOEKU #2

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.