XTRANORMAL.COM VERSION:

It is a well-known and accepted fact that all people, excluding Pauly Shore, fall into either one of two categories: those who are in on the joke and everyone else. Not to further unfairly perpetuate broad stereotypes but telemarketers as a rule without exception always fall into the latter.

Just Google “telemarketers” one day when you are supposed to be working and you’ll understand. There are the obligatory websites from telemarketers decrying that they are in fact real people with real feelings and other such nonsense. More importantly some 2,980,000 hits come up with different ways that you can entertain yourself at a telemarketer’s expense.

I will kill that bitch if she doesn't get her hands off my cheese.

I’m going to save you some time and tell you now that all these other posts are amateurish, juvenile, lacking any real sense of creativity and are simply just not fun.

You’re in luck since Captain Boondoggle is willing to share a little step-by-step plan for your endless entertainment that is simply entitled “Engaging a Telemarketer in a Nonsensical Conversation”.

Before I can unload such a prescriptive roadmap for your entertainment, there are two critical pieces of information that you have to understand to be successful:

1. Telemarketers read from a script and have prepared answers to any of your possible objections.

2. Forcing them to deviate from the script causes them to have epileptic seizures.

Let’s begin with a transcript of a recent call I received:

And….. scene.

It’s 6:30 pm Thursday. Phone rings. Caller ID Reads “A M Mortgage Co.”

Telemarketer (TM): Click….”Hello is Mr. Boondoggle available?”

ME: “I speak for Mr. Boondoggle.”

TM: “Mr. Boondoggle this is Jeff from A M Mortgage Co. and rates are really low right now, how do you feel about saving money on your mortgage?”

ME: “Do you like cheese?”

TM: “……..We can refinance with…uh…no cash….and uh…and lock in a rate….”

ME: “I said, DO YOU LIKE CHEESE?”

TM: “…uh…yes.”

ME: “yes, what?”

Oh, Sweet Delight! Lactose Nirvana!

TM: “ummm…uh…I like cheese?”

NOTE: This is what we in the business like to call “taking control of the conversation” and showing that you are the true alpha dog by not answering any question directed to you.

This is a continuation of Part I, found here.

February 26

Pepe and I were ready to rock.

My first attempt at refining my cat-burglar skills was a complete failure, so I decided I needed to hire a henchman. All the best criminal masterminds had henchmen. There was that guy in the James Bond movies with the metal teeth. Classic! The Joker has those guys in clown masks who are always fucking with Batman.  Lex Luthor had Ned Beatty. So, I hired a small time hood from the Cat-Burglar Union, Local 341 named Pepe. I told him I was an experienced cat-burglar rocking it old school. Pepe said he was in, and we planned our next hit.

I knew about this chick over on Melbourne Street who always worked out in the front room of her house at night in a tight leotard and no blinds over the windows. I told Pepe she always had her headphones in so we could bust in to the house, take what we wanted and she’d never know. She’d still be doing her stupid Pilates or whatever while we cleaned the joint out. I hooked Pepe up with the standard gear – all black threads, skullcap to go with his scary three day old stubble. We rubbed grease on our faces to look extra badass, and got ready to roll. I reminded Pepe that despite our carefully chosen black camouflage clothing it was essential to keep our faces uncovered, so our spooky criminal mugs could properly scare the shit out of the girl. There was no way she’d identify us to the police, because we’d just make sure to tell her not to. Or else.

Foiled again.

As we got to the house, we crept up to the bushes and observed. There she was, just like I said, on a treadmill in the front room of the house. She foolishly did not have any blinds in the window, so any sick freak with two eyes could just stand there and masturbate while watching her bounce in those skintight clothes, hugging every curve of her supple body. Then I noticed Pepe actually was masturbating, which in the cat-burglar community is considered a little unprofessional. What a sick bastard. I told him we weren’t there to masturbate, we were there to break in and scare the shit out of the lady while we robbed the house. After all, cat-burglars are an elite group of expert professionals. Peeping Toms are just perverted dirtbags.

The plan was simple: I would kick in the door. Pepe would keep the girl in the front room by glaring menacingly at her. Since she was a single white suburban chick between 25 and 45 with a median household income of $23,000-$40,000 her natural womanly fear would keep her frozen in place. I would clean the place out, rejoin Pepe in the front room, sneer at the girl one more time and leave. It would be a crackerjack operation from start to finish. A work of art. On cue, I kicked in the door.

Damn you, Matt from Brinks Home Security!

Oh no! She had a home security system! I was ready for it, but Pepe panicked and ran. Just like that, there I was standing in the doorway looking like an asshole. I suppose I could have easily prevented the girl from answering the phone, or just gone ahead and robbed the place in the six to eight minutes it would take for someone to show up, but I took off. The last I saw of Pepe was him turning the corner down the street, his pants around his ankles. The jackass had been so scared he forgot to zip back up. God damn foreigners. Trust me – Local 341 was going to hear about this shit. Meanwhile, I had to accept the fact that I’d been outwitted again.

God damn you, Matt from Brinks Home Security!

March 8

Don't lie. YOU didn't see the dog at first either.

This time there was no way I was going to be fucked with. I had to figure out a way to avoid the impenetrable iron wall of another Brinks Home Security System. I decided the best way to avoid home security was to just avoid the home! I would roam around a wealthy suburban neighborhood in broad daylight in my kick ass black cat burglar duds, so people would know not to fuck with me. It was a lovely warm day, so eventually I would find a family having lunch in their back yard. I’d bash through the fence, paralyze them with my penetrating cat-burglar stare and make the family go inside, get all their shit and bring it out to me.

I would stay safely in the back yard, where Brinks Home Security is completely powerless. It was the perfect plan.

It wasn’t long before I found my mark – an unsuspecting family was having a backyard picnic, totally unaware that a storm of badass was about to wail on them. These damn suburban jerks always think they’re so safe in their fancy houses with their fancy cars and their fancy home security systems. But this time I’d beat them at their own game. I’d beat Matt from Brinks Home Security at his own game. I was ready.

Time to dance Matt. You and your fingers on your stupid fancy earpiece, like that really helps you to hear.

Fucking dogs.

Everything went well at first. I kicked in the fence and put on my best cat-burglar game face. They were all terrified. The baby started crying. The women screamed. The men were all “What the fuck!”, but I told them not to move unless they wanted a steaming hot bowl of whoop-ass for their precious family picnic. I was feeling pretty good about myself, until I realized that they had a dog. Before I knew it that fucking thing came at me, all teeth and spit and barking. I took off over the fence, but the dog was too fast. I’m pretty sure it was one of those new ninja dogs, otherwise I could totally have gotten away with my cat-burglar skills. It wasn’t long before the cops showed up and I was done for the day. But that was cool with me. Nobody was going to talk. There is a reason for having scary cat-burglar stubble.

Nobody is going to fuck with someone who looks like that. I’ll be back on the street by dinner time.

March 18

Well, I was wrong. The girl in the bathrobe from last month put it together that the same guy she had a date with was the guy who broke into her house. She must have been some kind of undercover super-cop or something because my scam was airtight. The second girl was too scared to testify, but apparently Pepe got caught three blocks away when he stopped to masturbate in front of another house. That sick motherfucker rolled on me to save his own skin. Don’t worry, Pepe. I’ll be coming for you soon enough. But the worst thing of all is that in the end I found out who it was who had finally defeated me. Me, the greatest cat-burglar of our time – a modern day badass, like Robin Hood and Chuck Norris rolled into one!

I couldn’t believe it when he came to face me in court. Out of all the houses, in all the cities, in all the country it had to be his house. It was Matt from Brinks Home Security. He and his family had been enjoying a backyard family picnic on his day off. So, now I was face to face with my nemesis. Well played, Matt from Brinks Home Security. I fell right into your web of lies. I walked right into your trap. Today you were the better man, and I salute you. But mark my words: I’ll beat you, and I’ll do it not for me, but for the honor of my father, and his father, and the honor of great, great grand-pappy Jebediah Francis Burton. You may think you have extinguished the brilliant flame of my criminal genius but some day I will be free, and when I am you’d better sleep with one eye open, Matt. Because you know what they say about fire. It is really hot, and when you are close to it it will burn you, because hot fire burns!

That’s right Matt, it’s a riddle. I am the hot fire. And you are the person who is going to be burned by that hot fire.

Damn you, Matt from Brinks Home Security. Damn you to hell.

March 17

I’m a cat burglar, okay?

That’s right I’m a cat burglar, and I’m a damned good one, too. I break into people’s houses and steal their shit for a living. And you want to know what else? I’m proud of it. My father was a cat burglar, his father was a cat burglar, and his father before him was a cat burglar – and they were all proud of it. Hey, don’t you and your big shot Madison Avenue fat cat friends try to judge me! It’s a time honored family profession and in these troubled times, at least I can say I have a job.

But don’t think it’s easy. I have bills to pay, just like everyone else. Plus, its a lot more dangerous than that cushy office job you probably have. Ever get your head stuck in a doggie door, or catch your sack on top of a barbed wire fence making off with some old lady’s costume jewelry? I didn’t think so. And don’t get me started on do-it-yourself stitches, or breaking into veterinary clinics looking for antibiotics. It’s a hard life, but at the end of the day I can sit back and relax in my $200 a month efficiency knowing that not only have I put in a dishonest day’s work but I’ve done something to help society, too. Every time I snatch someone’s flat screen TV, they have to get a new one – which stimulates consumer spending and that is good for the economy.

Bet you didn’t learn that in school, mister fancy college education, guy. I am doing you people a favor by risking my ass to steal your shit .

But lately, it hasn’t been all roses. I’ve had sort of a bad streak and I’m not sure why. I keep getting caught red handed, and funds are starting to get a little tight. All my cat-burglar friends keep goofing on me because I changed up my game a couple of months ago. They keep telling me I’m going to end up in jail, but I say they’re the ones full of shit. Do you have any idea how small your profit margins start to get when you start investing in things like night vision goggles, surveillance equipment and window suction mounts?

Grandpappy Burton, the greatest cat-burglar of the 1880s.

No, I have recently learned to rock it old school, just like my great, great grand-pappy did. Now there was a cat burglar. Old Jebediah Francis Burton just bashed in your front door right in the middle of the day and took what he wanted right in front of you. No tricks, no gimmicks and none of that fancy Tom Cruise shit. That dude just rocked it balls to the wall 24-7, right up to the day they hanged him.

I just need to refine a few things, and I know I can get this to work.

I guess it all started a few months ago when I visited my dad over at Larceny Falls, the retirement home for cat burglars. He hasn’t been well lately, so I figured I’d cruise over there with this cool pair of wingtips I lifted from some old fart on the East side. Well wouldn’t you know, dear old dad ripped me a new one. He said I was cheapening the profession with all that high tech equipment. He said I’d lost my cat-burglar roots. He told me I was a joke.

He opened my eyes.

From that point on I knew things had to change. I had to change. I had to get organic and get back to basics. So, i took my father’s advice and changed my approach, recording the results in my cat-burglar diary. Like I said, things have gotten off to a rocky start. I don’t want to disappoint Dad, but I don’t know how to tell him this. It’s just that…well…I think I might be doing something wrong.

But that’s why I keep a diary. I’ll just flip through it here, and see if I can piece it all together…

February 14

It was Valentine’s Day, so I figured this would be the perfect day to test my new approach. I was genius! As any home security commercial will tell you, the perfect cat-burglar victims are suburban single white females, because they are weak, vulnerable and easily frightened. So I made an internet date with a girl, figuring I’d break in while she was getting ready and rob the joint. Then, I’d get in my car and come to pick her up for dinner. She’d be all “Oh my God, someone robbed me!” And I’d be all “Don’t worry baby, I’m here now. I’ll kick that guy’s ass if he comes back.” And she’d be all “You’re so cool! I will totally put out for you on the first date!”

It was the perfect plan.

It was the perfect plan. According to Dad’s cat-burglar handbook, you want to go for one of the classic cat-burglar looks. I mean, you have to look the part, or people totally won’t know you’re a cat-burglar and be properly scared shitless of you. Tonight I busted out the black jeans, dirty black jacket, black skullcap and three day old beard. I topped it off with a big ass rock, which I would use to clumsily and noisily break a window. Nothing subtle or crafty about this job – pure classic, just the way grandpappy would have liked it. When I got to the house, I sneaked around to the patio door off the bedroom. I could see her there in her sexy bathrobe getting ready for her date, because she foolishly did not have any blinds in the window. I mean, any sick freak with two eyes could just stand there and masturbate while watching her.

What a typically vulnerable single white suburban female between 25 and 35 with a median household income of $23,000-$40,000! But I wasn’t there to masturbate, I was there to break in and scare the shit out of her, rob the place and them come back for my date, guaranteeing a night of freaky white-knuckle terror-sex.

What could go wrong?

How was I supposed to know she had a phone?

I remembered to follow my dad’s advice and do it old school. I made sure to trip over a bunch of shit as I approached the window, completely destroying any element of surprise. Yes I could have covered my face, but how is she supposed to see my scary burglar stubble if I’m wearing a ski mask? I pitched the rock through the window, making lots of unnecessary racket and alerting the neighbors. Yeah, this was going to be awesome.

Oh no! She had a home security system! What was I to do? Oh sure, I could have properly cased the place, discovering the setup and easily killed the thing beforehand. And I should have looped the phone line so that the dicks at the security company wouldn’t even know anything was wrong. But I wasn’t going for all that high tech shit. I wanted to rob this chick the way my cat-burglar ancestors would have.

This was about getting to my roots. Dad said I needed to get back to the fundamentals and he was right.  I was relying too much on ‘caution’, ‘planning’, ‘technology’ and ”stealth’. Robbery is an art; it’s like Jedi shit. You have to play these things by ear! You just have to feel it, man!

But I guess I sort of panicked. I mean, she did look pretty hot in that skimpy pink robe. And let’s not forget – I’ve been a professional cat-burglar for ten years. I haven’t set off a fucking alarm in so long, I forgot what they even sound like. Are they really that loud? I’m also kind of used to making sure nobody is even home before I break in, so I wasn’t exactly sure what to do. And usually, even after such a monumental fuck up I’d already know the location of all the valuables in the house and could have been in and out in five minutes.  But I froze. And then I ran. To make things worse when I called her from my car, she said she’d just been robbed and was to scared to go out! I told her maybe she’d feel better if I came over for some freaky white knuckle terror-sex. I guess that was the wrong thing to say, because she said when the police got there she was going to report me as a stalker!  Are you fucking kidding me™? Some chicks are so sensitive. She had already been on the phone with Jim from Brinks Home Security, and in a few minutes this neighborhood would be hotter than the surface of the sun. I had no choice to admit that I was beaten.

God damn you, Jim from Brinks Home Security!

This “old school” racket was turning out to be trickier than I thought. Robbing houses without sophisticated moden equipment sure was a bitch. But something about it was exhilarating. It was like doing it for the first time – I’dnever felt so alive!

But still…maybe I needed to hire some help.

Next up, Part II – February 26.

It only takes this simple post combined with the following uploaded pictures.  Feel free to cut and paste the following text and list this item for sale in your hometown!  Make sure you use the donkey picture and please email us the responses you receive.  

Yes this was really posted on Craig’s List with the 4 pictures.  Yes, Acorn King is now banned for life.  No, we are not F—ing Kidding You.  

Enjoy!  

Also, check out Acorn King’s own site HERE!

FREE LIST

Reply To:  sale-805353438@craigslist.org

Date:  2009-05-17, 3:47PM CDT

The other day I found this list laying on the ground.  It had the name “Craig” on it.  I can’t be positive which Craig this list might have belonged to, but it could be the same Craig who operates this website.  This one is a pretty good list too, probably one of the better lists I’ve ever seen.  Please note that the list is pretty old, dated 10/6/85, so this very well could be Craig’s first list ever.  I’ve attached some pictures of the list below. 

The first is a photo of where I found the list.  This is a reenactment photo because I didn’t have my camera with me at the moment I discovered it.  

The second photo is a picture of the note in a paper box.  I DID NOT find the list in this paper box, I’m only showing you this to inform you that you should never search for notes in paper boxes.  Homeless people sometimes pee in them.  

The third photo is a picture of a plastic donkey.  The donkey really doesn’t have much to do with this post….. I just thought it was a funny picture.  

And the last photo shows the contents of the entire list.  

As you can see….. this list is perfect for framing, or even showing off to your friends.

Heck, why not go out and buy the items on the list for yourself?  I know I would!

Do whatever you want with the list, I just want to get it off my hands to free up some space in my apartment.

Thanks so much,  

Acorn King

Want more stupidity?  Check out our Scams & Pranks and world famous “13 Stupid Questions-Interview with a Rock Star.”

As a world-renowned celebrity, Captain Boondoggle receives a multitude of fan mail from the much less fortunate wanting to know more about the Great Boondoggle.   For many, this hero worship is so great that they want to completely comprehend and fully grasp the power and magnificence of what it is to be Boondoggle. 

As a magnanimous hero of my unrivaled stature, who perhaps owes a minuscule portion of my greatness to my fans, it is my solemn duty to oblige these misanthropes with even the smallest taste of my grandeur.  In only so that for a moment, they to can escape from their meaningless lives and feel the awesomeness of Being Boondoggle.

In order to bestow such a gift to the army of Boondoggilites, I elected to assemble a playlist and submit said playlist to iTunes for publication for the entire world to enjoy and savor. 

After some consideration, I created, much like Beethoven, a playlist unlike any other for publication on Apple’s iTunes.  This playlist includes songs written about Boondoggle and if you listen carefully to each you will be treated, if only for a moment, to what it means to be Boondoggle.

Upon submitting playlist, I added the following description for those not intimately familiar with the greatness of Boondoggle:

Whether at the gym, engaging in professional ‘little people’ tossing or simply running from the police the Glorious Captain Boondoggle of RUFKM.NET fame has selected a song for every occasion.  A mix of rock, heavy metal and some bands that refuse to be categorized Captain Boondoggle’s Gym mix is exactly what his fans have been demanding.  From the melodies of Pop Evil to the guttural screaming of Lamb of God this mix has a song for every metal head that finds themselves in a gym either running on a tread mill, lifting weights or simply wondering what it would be like to be Boondoggle the Great for a day.  How did this mix include a Nickelback song?  How could it not? 

Who the hell is American Dog, Pure Inc, or Big C**k?  Only the magnificent bastard, a true bad motherfu***r, a real-life redneck, certified mothef***er of the year,  driving a freight train, the irrepressible and indestructible Boondoggle.

Are you F—ing kidding me?

Upon submitting my playlist, I reclined in my chair and waited for a call from Steve Jobs himself, thanking me for my submission and offering me millions for the exclusive rights to publish such a masterpiece. 

Instead, I received the following drivel:

Dear Captain Boondoggle:

Thank you for submitting your playlist “Captain Boondoggle’s Gym Mix”, unfortunately it cannot be published because we find that many of our users may find that it is offensive.  Please review your play list and description per iTunes terms of service and resubmit for further consideration. 

Sincerely,

The iTunes Team

Again.  Are you F—ing kidding me?

A service that provides music by The Killer Dwarves, Big Cock and George Michael finds my humble playlist humble because I dare to mention midget tossing, running from the police, rednecks and most alarmingly Nickelback finds what I submit to be “offensive”? 

More outraged than TylerDFC by grammatical errors and the last vote on American Idol, I stewed in the RUFKM offices alone awaiting for this transgression to be resolved. 

This censorship has caused my fans to forever be deprived from my greatness, my magnum opus, my Gettysburg Address, my manifesto and darkened the world of iTunes for all. 

After some consternation, I elected to resubmit with the following description:

Captain Boondoggle’s Censored Playlist includes earth shattering tunes across the entire music spectrum that do not include mention of midget tossing, profanity, or reference to the greatest website ever created by mankind.  These things are wrong and could be found offensive, especially by those with no sense of humor or who take themselves so damn seriously that that they don’t understand that the band Big Cock is dedicated to a one-eyed rooster.  Instead you get songs filled with pounding beats, heavy guitar riffs, insightful lyrics and without mention of Boondoggle being a motherf****r or that given the opportunity he would gladly provide you a blumpkin free of charge. I’m positive it will be a hit.  

Guess what? 

Success.

Dear Captain Boondoggle,  Congratulations, your iMix “Captain Boondoggle Censored Gym Mix” has been published in the iTunes Music store at: http://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewIMix?id=310540930       Captain Boondoggle Censored Gym Mix  Playlist Notes:

Check it out along with my next submission “Brain Cancer Remix for Individuals with Diminished Sense of Humor”. 

Screw iTunes.  Go to our RUFKMtunes music store instead.  79 cents each!  Click “Store” at the top of the page, check out this jukebox chock full of the above songs, or click HERE.  

Bastard Boondoggle Out.

Apparently, the Boondoggle’s Do You Like Cheese? routine’s brilliant obfuscation causes utter panic in the minds of the lesser telemarketer ilk to the extent that they have permanently ceased calling me to sell lawn care products, mortgage insurance, chimney sweeping services, extended warranties and windows.

Telemarketers: Interrupting dinner and masturbation since 1953.

I have to admit I’m disappointed, especially now that I’m armed with a list of 438 varieties of cheese to keep the routine fresh and stimulating.

Fortunately for me, my disappointment has not lasted long as a new group of buffoons has begun their relentless quest to separate the Brilliant Boondoggle from his money.

Who is this new Bane of Boondoggle?

The Police.

No, not the Police of Sting and the two other guys or the ones with flashing lights and guns, but rather people pretending to be police such as:

Illinois Police AssociationSheriff’s Network of Illinois

Police Protective Fund

Illinois Council of Police Sheriff’s

Sheriff’s Athletic Fund

The good news for you (and more importantly me) is that these people are really not the police. In fact they are simply telemarketers in disguise who instead of honorably trying to sell you crap are just trying to take your money out of the auspices that you will be helping the police and ipso facto you will not be arrested.

A little research shows that these fraudsters actually do give some of the money that they steal from you to the police. However, they typically give 20% of whatever you donate to some police charity and keep the rest for their crack habit. For those of you that are math impaired that means that if you give these monkey’s $100 they then give $20 to the police and use the remaining $80 to buy crystal meth and a new crack pipe.

Public Service Note: If you really are truly determined to give the police your money you can have much more fun and satisfaction if you drink a fifth of Ol’ Granddad Whiskey, strip naked except for a strategically placed sock on your netherlands, hop in your Camaro and drive 80 mph in a school zone as opposed to giving these leaches your money. The revenue from the 63 tickets they issue you, plus bail money, goes directly towards supporting our fine men and women in blue.

All this means is that you can have fun with them. Like our epic  phone prank Do You Like Cheese? , I’ve created another spectacular routine that I just tried out tonight. This is guaranteed to be as much fun as a room containing only a 8-ball, 6 tootsie rolls and Whitney Houston:

Here you go:

“Ring….Ring” (during dinner of course)

CB: Yellow.

Caller: Hi, is Mr. Boondoggle available?

CB: What?

Caller: Mr. Boondoggle?

CB: Yes.

Caller: This is Eric from the Illinois Police Athletic Commission.

CB:Hello Ponch, I’m glad you called.

Eric: No, it’s Eric.

CB:Sure Tubbs, I can’t believe you called so quickly!

Eric: What?

CB: I said thanks for calling Horatio.

Eric: Uh….Uh…..I’m calling about a fundraising effort for the Police Athletic Commission.

CB: Listen, Axel Foley, like I said to 911 a minute ago, there is a man outside my window smiling with a machete and a sock puppet!

Eric: Um…I’m not the police.

CB: I thought you said your name was Detective Riggs?

Eric: Uh….no I’m from the Police Athletic Commission.

CB: The intruder just entered my house and has taken my ferret hostage! Can you get me a negotiator?

Eric: I’m not the police, I ….

CB: I need to hear police sirens outside my door, STAT! What does a police car sound like Callahan?

Eric: What?

CB: I said ‘WHAT DOES A POLICE CAR SOUND LIKE?

Eric:Uhhh…ahem…WAHWAHWAWAHA?

CB:Are you F-ing kidding me Serpico?

Eric: What?

CB: THAT’S A F—ING GODDAMN AMBULANCE! DON”T YOU KNOW YOUR EMERGANCY VEHICLES? AND YOU CALL YOURSELF A COP?

Click….dial tone………..end of insanity.

There you have it, clocking in at two minutes and twenty-six seconds of pure fake cop fun! Try your own variation the next time you’re called or just resort to asking if they like cheese.

Boondoggle Out.

• Do you know someone who asks you questions and then never listens to the answer?
• How about when you’re in the middle of a speech and you can tell your audience is beginning to drift off?
• Have you tried to be funny and failed miserably? Perhaps just like this website?

Well, RUFKM has a solution for all these problems.  It’s called:

OPERATION ATIFH! 

This is an acronym we invented that is pronounced “Ah – teeef!” and stands for “And Then I Fucked Her!”  This will ensure that all your future conversations will be entertaining to either you or your audience, and also may get you fired or outcast from society.  

There are two ways to say ATIFH! 

A.  Soft ATIFH = Use the same tone and cadence you are currently using during the conversation.

B.  Hardcore ATIFH! = increase volume,  speak  exactly like that no-talent-ass-clown Andrew “Dice” Clay.  You do not, however, need to wear a sleeveless multicolored leather jacket.  

Today we will  provide a few scenarios and examples of how to properly use this phrase in conversation.  We will start with Soft ATIFH! and will show the Hard ATIFH! at a later date. 

Scenario #1: 

It’s Monday morning and your annoying retired neighbor always asks how your weekend was.   This fossil is notorious for asking courtesy questions, nodding, and then forgetting he’s not wearing any pants.   You’re pretty sure he’s never listened to a goddamn word you’ve said due to either rudeness or that his brain has degraded to cottage cheese.  Let’s call him “Teddy.” 

Teddy:  So, Dark Lord, how was your weekend? 

Dark Lord:  Great!  I had a nice Saturday night.  I took the wife out to Olive Garden and we had one of the best meals ever!  I love those breadsticks.  Then we saw that Paul Blart: Mall Cop movie, went to Ben & Jerry’s for desert, and then I fucked her.  How was your weekend? 

Teddy:  Well, you know, every day above ground is a good day!  Heh-heh.   Have a good one!  Oh, have you seen my pants?

There you go!  You slipped ATIFH! into the conversation and the old geezer never even noticed!  Well done.  This can also be done at work with your incompetent boss that never listens and has the personality of a cyborg.  Here’s another example of a Soft ATIFH! 

Scenerio #2: 

Top Banana:  Hey buddy!  Good to catch up with you!  How was your interview with Kelly today for the office manager opening?

Dark Lord:  I have to say that Kelly did a solid job explaining her past sales experience citing specific examples, had a portfolio detailing her performance awards,  as well as being able to display her desire for the position.  And then I fucked her. 

Top Banana:  Sounds fantastic!  Should we make her an offer?

Dark Lord:  I  gave her the offer of $53,000 a year with incentives.  And then I fucked her. 

Top Banana:  Excellent work!  I will file the paperwork and her first day will be next Monday.  Dick Lid, I can always count on you to make solid business decisions for our organization.

Dark Lord:  Thank you sir.  For the record, my name is Dark Lord. 

Top Banana:  Sorry, my Blackberry is blowing up!  Keep on trucking! Also, we’re going to need you to come in on Saturday. 

Stay tuned for Hard ATIFH soon.  We already trademarked this shit so if you decide to add this to your routine, remember to send us 3 nickels in royalties per use. 

These are tough economic times.  Everyday you hear about how many billions of dollars are spent but, just like everyone, you’re thinking:  Where’s my personal bail out? Well, RUFKM has you covered. 

The “Latte Factor” has hit Americans hard and they have cut out such luxuries like Starbucks out of their budget.  Not the editors of RUFKM.  We are drinking Pumpkin Spice/Nutmeg/Sugar injected genius by the gallon…. for free!  Here’s how you can too!  Just follow the steps and use the following script and you’ll never pay $5.00 for a cup of coffee again!   All you need is a co-worker/buffoon’s money and you are set to go.  

1.  Offer to go on a  Starbucks run.  Your office will scream like monkeys that you are offering to be their bitch.  Take all their money for their ridiculous orders and leave.  Be sure to take a long time on the company’s dime.  Bring no money of your own.  

2.  Place your order.

3.  Take your drinks back to the car.  

4.  Grab an empty Starbucks cup you took out of the break room trash can.  

5.  Fill it to the brim with Sprite.  

6.  Walk back inside and go back to the employee who handed you your order and use the following script.  

You:  Excuse me, this drink was not made right.  

Starbucks Slave:  What did you order?  

You:  Just a grande latte with soy and an extra shot.  

Starbucks Slave:  And what did you get?

You:  Sprite.  

Starbucks Slave:  Come again? 

You:  Sprite. A grande cup of Sprite.  Are You F—ing Kidding Me?  This shit doesn’t even have caffeine.  If you going to give me a carbonated beverage, at least hook me up with a Dr. Pibb.   

Starbucks Slave:  Sir, that’s impossible.  I made the drink myself and besides, we don’t even sell Sprite.  

YOU CAN THEN CHOOSE FROM THE FOLLOWING REACTIONS:

A.  I get it!  I’m on some hidden camera show!  Maybe that new one with that no talent ass-clown Howie Mandel!  By the hair of Thor…., finally my 15 minutes of fame!  

(Begin waving your hands at the security camera, strike many poses, dance a bit.)

B.  You don’t sell Sprite yet here it is…  (Peer into the cup inquisitively, squint, and then address the other customers at high volume)  People!  It’s a miracle.  We have found our savior!  Like Jesus turned water to wine, this man turns java into Sprite! Hallelujah!  

(Dancing is also acceptable with this choice)

Starbucks Slave:  Sir, sorry for the mistake.  What did you order again?

And there you have it.  A free cup of coffee.  The fact that you have presented a barista with a cup of Sprite will melt their minds.  Bring your co-workers their overpriced crap back while you sip on freedom.  Be sure to yell “Shenanigans!” and leave this business card when you head out the door.

It is truly a great day at the RUFKM headquarters. Oh, and me? Due to the global interest in RUFKM -and in Loose Cannon - I found myself listed under Wikipedia…..  because I did it myself.

Here’s what our first entry first looked like. Go ahead, read the whole thing as it will deepen your understanding about my background of uncontrollable destructive behavior and my desire to write about body paint and ferrets.

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The expression “loose cannon” or “loose cannon on rolling deck” refers to an irresponsible and reckless individual whose behaviour (either intended or unintended) endangers the group he or she belongs to.

Brilliant. RUFKM was now part of Wikipedia. Then, like trained dogs sniffing out cocaine, the robots sensed tomfoolery and began their invasion. Here was their first missile fired directly at my work email.

“Please refrain from making unconstructive edits to Wikipedia, as you did to Loose cannon. Your edits appear to constitute vandalism and have been reverted. If you would like to experiment, please use the sandbox. Thank you. “

Hold on. I used to play mailbox baseball, use 40 rolls of toilet paper on a friends oak tree, set bags of shit on fire and ring the doorbell, shoot out my high school’s windows with a pellet gun, and pour sugar down my bus driver’s gas tank– and that was just last Thursday. I would consider that to be vandalism. This time I was simply providing a public service to effectively waste the country’s time at work. So, I clicked on “vandalism” and received the following Wikipedia definition:

“Vandalism is any addition, removal, or change of content made in a deliberate attempt to compromise the integrity of Wikipedia. The most common types of vandalism include the addition of obscenities or crude humor, page blanking, or the insertion of nonsense into articles.”

Oh. I see.

I have to admit, these robots summed up our entire site in a nutshell: crude humor, obscenities, and NONSENSE. How did this robot know everything about my personality and the RUFKM company mission? It had only been 3 seconds since I did the edit! Upon, deep thought I figured that the robots were not that intuitive and that they just figured out that “F—ing” was the same as “Fucking” and did not like that phrase.

Yahtzee!

And there you have it. I deleted “F—ing” and RUFKM is now listed under Wikipedia for eternity as one of the definitions and reasons that the term “loose cannon” exists. And by “for eternity” I mean until one of the moderators clicks on our link and finds this article. So then I got a bit aggressive and also added Captain Boondoggle and the Dark Lord to the mix (sorry TylerDFC – your name sucks for Wikipedia):

CAPTAIN BOONDOGGLE’S POST:

The term boondoggle, in the sense of a project that wastes time and money, first appeared during the Great Depression in the 1930s, referring to the millions of jobs given to unemployed men and women to try to get the economy moving again, as part of the

New Deal

. It came into common usage after a 1935 New York Times headline claimed that over $3 million had been spent teaching the jobless how to make boon doggles.[1]

More recently, the term boondoggle has come to refer to an author who goes by the title captain and writes for an observational humor website called www.rufkm.net. His name is appropriate as his articles are a complete waste of time. If also refers to government or corporate project involving large numbers of people and usually heavy expenditure; at some point, the key operators have realized that the project is never going to work, but are reluctant to bring this to the attention of their superiors. Generally there is an aspect of “going through the motions” – for example, continuing research and development – as long as funds are available to keep paying the researchers’ and executives’ salaries.