I've come to a conclusion…

I’ve been thinking about something for a long time and have come to a conclusion. And now I want to share that conclusion with you. I’m good like that.

Well, “a long time” is not exactly accurate. I’ve been thinking about it for about ten minutes. But, “a long time” makes it sound better and it’s considerably more dramatic than “I’ve been thinking about this since about halfway through my pancakes.”

Sometimes in life you are faced with irrefutable evidence. While at other times, you just know. You know? You know.

This is a bit of both.

I feel like I can say, with a reasonable degree of certainty, that…

Fred Flintstone suffered from erectile disfunction.

It’s true!

Let’s look at the facts:

1) Dude was mad CRANKY. And not just a little moody. That’s the kind of rage you only get when the pterodactyl in your pants is no longer flying.

2) Motherfucker stopped his car with his FEET. Why not take it to a mechanic to get the breaks fixed? He was afraid it would make him seem less manly. (He was totally right.)

3) He almost never touched his wife. And Wilma is HOT. Don’t deny it. And she’s a redhead. You know what that means. I mean, I don’t personally. I’ve avoided them like the plague. But, I hear things.

4) He was more than obsessed with being a great bowler. He was clearly trying to compensate for some other shortcomings. Personally, I would have started with cutting out that twinkle-toes dance he did before releasing the ball, but that’s just me.

5) The Great Gazoo. So, he has a “little friend.” A little friend that he was obsessed with. A little friend that he called “Great.” Come on. And he felt like he had no control over this little friend and that this little friend treated him with nothing but disdain. I got a C- in PSYCH 1200 and even I figured it out.

6) He was frequently distracted and worried about “something.” How else could Barney steal the Fruity Pebbles from you know who?

I hope that I didn’t destroy any of your childhood memories. I just thought that this information might help explain his boorish behaviour. As well as why Wilma never lets him back in after the cat puts him outside for the night during the closing credits. I mean… What’s the point?

Drop back in for tomorrow’s post…

Smurfette: A big dirty whore

0 thoughts on “I've come to a conclusion…

  1. I think you should follow the Smurfette entry up with “Papa Smurf: Innocent Grandpa or Total Pedophile?” I know which side I’d argue.

  2. The Great Gazoo. So, he has a “little friend.” A little friend that he was obsessed with. A little friend that he called “Great.” Come on. And he felt like he had no control over this little friend and that this little friend treated him with nothing but disdain. I got a C- in PSYCH 1200 and even I figured it out.

    From a one-time, almost psych major, I think this seals it.

  3. You need to find more scrumptious pancakes. Poor Wilma!

    And I’m with lspoon – don’t avoid redheads. We’ll have you busting a gut and going out of your mind with how awesome we are.

  4. Oh. My. God! I just snorted green tea while reading this!!! That was hilarious– I’ll never look at those Flintstones vitamins the same way again!

    And, to agree with you and lspoon, Smurfette HAD to be a total whore!!!

  5. Personally I’m relieved to hear that you didn’t think about this for more than about 10 minutes. I mean, if this was thought about for a really long time, then I think we have another psychology topic

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