Oddly Enough Blog

News, but not the serious kind

Irony is a “Life is Pain” tattoo


Polizeihauptwachtmeister, round up the usual suspects for questioning!

Right away, lieutenant! Of course, six of them got away while you were saying Polizeihauptwachtmeister, but…

Never mind that, Polizeihauptwachtmeister! This man here! Have you sentenced him yet?

Well, no, lieutenant. He’s just a suspect. He’s innocent until proven guilty.

You have not read the full penal code, have you, Polizeihauptwachtmeister?

Um, not the FULL code, lieutenant.

Page 1,264, paragraph six. “If some dumkaupf has a pineapple handgrenade tattooed on his neck and the message “Life is Pain” tattooed above his ear, he goes directly to jail.”

How I spent my summer vacation


Welcome back to a feature called What Year is this Again? where we offer items that lack humor, but do make us wonder if we have somehow gone back in time…

Children, welcome to third grade! I’m Miss Johnson. Let’s start with all of you writing a paragraph called “How I Spent My Summer Vacation!”

Are you dummies talkin’ to ME?


Irving liked exploring on his own, but at times he had the distinct impression strange characters were following and taunting him.

They often took the form of menacing mannequins. A woman wearing only a shawl, buck-naked men making rude faces, even a slender guy who must have been one of those “size zero” models.

Put the money in the bag, or I’ll eachu up!


Blog Guy, there was a really bizarre bank robbery in Australia today.

Yeah, two guys held up a bank in dinosaur masks. As you can see in this closed-circuit footage, they had Tyrannosaurus Rex masks. The bank tellers cooperated and no one was hurt.

“If it had just been a brontosaurus I’d have fought the bastard, but I don’t mess with T-rex!” said one victim.

I’m not walkin’ down all these stairs!


Blog Guy, I was reading a history book and saw a word I didn’t know, defenestration. Rather than look it up, I thought I’d ask you what it means.

Defenestration is throwing something out a window. As in, “Close that damn refrigerator door! You’re defenestrating my hard-earned money!” Or like, “Here comes the parade, let’s defenestrate this ticker tape on them!”

High fashion, it’s all in the execution?


Blog Guy, please let me jump in here quickly because I have special fashion needs which are fairly urgent.

Okay, I’ve never heard of urgent fashion needs, but go on…

I’m Judy, a wartime spy facing the firing squad, and naturally I want to look my best. I’m furious!  No designers are producing chic blindfolds!

It ain’t exactly Baywatch…


Dear Mom and Dad,

Well, I finally made it to Bali, my dream vacation, and it’s everything I ever hoped for!

I’m writing this postcard from exotic Kuta Beach, soaking up rays, sipping a lychee martini, ogling the handsome lifeguard with his sexy combat boots and assault rifle, and thinking about…

Stand out, but not too much…


Blog Guy, you don’t know me… You never saw me, we never had this conversation. I know you help people with certain fashion needs find appropriate attire. I represent the 42 million people in the Witness Protection Program. When you’re disguised all the time, it’s not easy to look chic.

Wait a minute. There are 42 million of us?

Us? You’re in the program?  Hey, clever disguise, doing a blog that anybody in the world can read. Then you know we have parties, cruises, WPP discounts… So is anybody creating fashions for us?

Don’t trip on the gun at the altar…


I’ve blogged before about Saint Death, this grinning skeletal figure who isn’t recognized by the Catholic Church, but is revered by drug traffickers and other criminal scumbags.

I get a kick out of this guy, because I don’t begin to see how he fits in with regular theology. I noticed this photo when soldiers in Mexico seized a house used for storing marijuana and a lab producing cocaine. According to the caption this is an “altar to venerate Saint Death.”

Just leave your parrot outside, sir…


Come in and have a seat, Mr. Johnson, and thanks for your application to join our little company.

Let’s see, it says here your last position was in Somalia! Well, that’s quite a long ways away, I guess. Iowa, or someplace?