Canonical List of Fulldeckisms
A compendium of insults and "not all there" comments from various
sources, beginning with rec.humor, April 1987.
Criteria: Humorousness; uniqueness of essence (minimize redundancy);
brevity; consistency; avoid gender bias, ethnic slurs, and other really
offensive material; keep in sorted order with correct spelling and grammar.
"Body by Fisher -- brains by Mattel."
$HOME = /dev/null.
3K RAM free, no EMS.
A .22 caliber intellect in a .357 Magnum world.
A 10K brain attached to a 9600 baud mouth.
A 3.5-inch drive, but data on punch cards.
A couplet short of a sonnet.
A doughnut short of being a cop.
A few beads short in her rosary.
A few beers short of a six-pack / a six-pack short of a case.
A few guppies short of an aquarium.
A few links shy of a chain.
A few open splices.
A few planes short of an Air Force / hangar.
A few points short of a polygon.
A few sandwiches/apples/ants short of a picnic.
A few tiles missing from his space shuttle.
A few too many lights out in his Christmas tree.
A few volts below threshold.
A flash of light, a cloud of dust, and... What was the question?
A hop, skip, and jump from success, but to get there he'd have to
give up chewing gum.
A medical mystery.
A mind like wet tennis shoes... Makes squishy noises when running.
A modest little person, with much to be modest about. -- Churchill
A natural talent for finding subliminal messages in ice cubes.
A Neanderthal brain in a Cro-Magnon body.
A one-bit brain with a parity error.
A pacifist out of necessity in a battle of wits.
A photographic memory, but the lens cover is glued on.
A prime candidate for natural deselection.
A room temperature IQ.
A semitone flat on the high notes.
A square with only three sides.
A titanic intellect... In a world full of icebergs.
A vacuum-tube brain in a microchip world.
A VGA card and a Herc monitor.
A victim of retroactive birth control.
A walking argument for birth control.
Afraid she'll void her warranty if she thinks too much.
Aliens zapped him with stupidity ray -- twice.
All booster, no payload.
All foam, no beer.
All his learning curves look like Mount Everest.
All lime and salt, no tequila.
All missile, no warhead.
All the personality of linoleum flooring / plasticene / putty /
caulking / saran wrap.
All the sex appeal of a wet paper bag.
Alphabetizes junk mail / T-shirts.
Always in the right place, but at the wrong time.
Always sharpening his sleeping skills.
An 8080 in a 68000 environment.
An Apple //e on UUCP.
An early example of the Peter Principle.
An ego like a black hole.
An experiment in Artificial Stupidity.
An expert on the historical significance of cottage cheese.
An intellect rivaled only by garden tools.
An XT clone in a Pentium zone.
Ano-fossal ambiguity. (Can't tell his ass from a hole in the ground.)
Answers the door when the phone rings.
Any slower and he'd be in reverse. -- Gignac
As a baby his parents stood him on his soft spot.
As focused as a fart.
As happy as if he had brains.
As sharp as a marble / bowling ball / beachball / pin head /
wet sponge / bowl of Jello / mashed potato sandwich,
and twice as smart.
As smart as a politician/lawyer is honest.
As smart as bait / an automatic email responder script.
As smart as Christie Brinkley is ugly.
As thick as champ. (Irish; champ is mostly mashed spuds and cabbage.)
As worn out as a cucumber in a convent.
Bad spot on the disk.
Barney's his hero.
Bats have flown the belfry, and now he's all alone.
Batteries not included.
Been napping in front of the ion shield again.
Been playing in the pharmacy section again.
Been short on oxygen one time too many.
Been using her head as a mass driver.
Better at sex than anyone; now all he needs is a partner.
Blew his O-rings.
Blocked one too many hockey pucks/soccer balls/punches with his head.
Brain like a hard drive with no read/write head.
Brain permanently in power saving mode.
Brain transplant donor.
Bright as an acetylene torch -- without an oxygen supply.
Brings binoculars to submarine races.
Bubbles in her think tank.
Built a special showcase for his herd of pet rocks.
Busy as a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest.
Caboose seems to be pulling the engine.
Can be outwitted by a jar of Marshmallow Fluff.
Can discern facts and form predictions with the acumen of an economist.
Can only shoot pool with a left-handed cue stick.
Can't count his balls and get the same answer twice.
Can't distinguish jacking off and strapping a razor.
Can't find his ass with two hands and a periscope/compass/flashlight/
bloodhound/GPS receiver (in a locked closet).
Carrier wave unmodulated.
Cheats when filling out opinion polls.
Clock doesn't have all its numbers.
Colder than a well-digger's ass in the Klondike.
Contributes to collections like this one without searching first
to see if their little gem is already listed.
Contributes to the population problem.
Could be considered a plant if he developed photrophic motility.
Could only be loved/missed if the minister read someone else's eulogy.
Couldn't find his way through a maze even if the rats helped him.
Couldn't organize a piss-up in a brewery. (Common in Australia.)
Couldn't think/pee his way out of a paper bag.
Couldn't write dialogue for a porno flick.
Cranial cavity filled with neutronic matter. (Really dense.)
Cursor's flashing but there's no response.
Deep as her dimples / reflection in a mirror.
Defective hard drive / boot sector.
Dense as a London fog.
Differently clued. -- Dave Clark
Does everything the hard way, like making love standing up in a hammock.
Doesn't consider his drive a slice unless it lands two fairways over.
Doesn't have a fart's prayer in a hurricane.
Doesn't have both oars in the water -- can't even find the damn boat.
Doesn't have the sense God gave an animal cracker.
Doesn't have two neurons to rub together.
Doesn't know much, but leads the league in nostril hair. -- Billing
Doesn't know whether to scratch his watch or wind his balls.
Doesn't know which side the toast is buttered on.
Doesn't quite sample at the Nyquist rate.
Doesn't suffer from ear pressure when flying at altitude.
Doesn't have the brain power to toast a crouton.
Donated her body to scientists... Before she was done using it.
Downhill skiing in Iowa.
Driving with two wheels in the sand.
Dumber than a chicken / box of hair/rocks.
During evolution his ancestors were in the control group.
Elevator doesn't go all the way to the top floor / penthouse.
Elevator goes all the way to the top but the door doesn't open.
End of season sale at the cerebral department. -- Gareth Blackstock
Enjoys listening to telemarketers.
Evidence for the theory of a missing link.
Failed the Turing test.
Finds canonical humor collections amusing.
Finds Sesame Street / knock-knock jokes challenging.
Fired from McDonald's for having a short attention span.
Fired her retro-rockets a little late.
Flying/landing on one engine.
Focused like a 12 gauge shotgun.
Folds ace plus red jack hand when playing blackjack.
Forgot to pay his brain bill.
Found his marbles, but is playing jacks with them.
Gasoline engine, diesel fuel.
Gears grind/don't always mesh.
Gets a charge out of pissing on electric fences.
Goalie for the dart team.
God might still use him for miracle practice.
God's favorite target for lightning strikes.
Goes with the flow... He's a bed wetter.
Good at quantum tunneling but not much else.
Got a life, but wasn't sure what to do with it.
Got his brains as a stocking stuffer.
Got into the gene pool while the lifeguard wasn't watching.
Gyros are loose.
Half a bubble off plumb. -- attributed to Mark Twain
Hard to distinguish from the tail end of a horse.
Has a one-way ticket on the Disoriented Express.
Has a pulse, but that's about all.
Has all her bricks, but no cement holding them together.
Has all the brains God gave a duck's ass.
Has change for a seven dollar bill.
Has his solar panels aimed at the moon.
Has it floored in neutral.
Has only one chopstick in the chowmein.
Has the Grand Canyon under the crew cut.
Has the IQ of a salad bar / an ice cube / three below houseplant.
Has the personality of a snail on Valium.
Has the same talent as Dr. Doolittle.
Has two brains; one is lost and the other is out looking for it.
Hasn't caught on that X and Y are relative values.
He demonstrates that beauty times brains is a constant.
He donated his brain to science but they made an early withdrawal.
He knows computers... He's not fit for contact with humans.
He's a General Protection Fault trigger.
He's a man on a mission, but can't find his dossier.
He's not stupid; he's possessed by a retarded ghost.
He's really into himself... His head is up his ass.
He's so dense, light bends around him.
Hears more lyrics on records when they're played backwards.
Her ancestors came to this country looking for bananas.
Her blender doesn't go past "mix."
Her brain is more like a Rube Goldberg device than a computer.
Her dentist went deaf from the drill's echoes.
Her memory is truly random-access.
Her mental function can be graphed with a single dot.
Her mere presence causes parity errors, power fails, and head crashes.
Her mind is not grounded to a logic supply.
Her mind might have spontaneously combusted.
Her modem lights are on but there's no carrier.
Her ski lift doesn't go to the top of the hill.
Her synapses are about |that| far apart.
High relative humidity... He's lost in a fog.
His .sig is long, boring, and stupid, but it's the best part of his postings.
His antenna doesn't pick up all the channels.
His brain was sold separately and they were out of stock.
His clutch is slipping.
His deck has no face cards.
His elevator is stuck between floors.
His family wasn't dysfunctional until he arrived.
His gene line isn't just dead, it's extinct.
His golf bag does not contain a full set of irons. -- Robin Williams
His head whistles in a cross wind.
His IQ is a false positive.
His mind is less substantial than the Emperor's new clothes.
His mind is on vacation but his mouth is working overtime.
His mind is write-protected.
His mind reached escape velocity and achieved orbit.
His outgoing message starts with, "Hello, Mr. Answering Machine."
His signal-to-noise ratio is epsilon.
His spark can't jump the gap.
His spirit guide is a three-toed sloth.
His system administrator is never in.
His wisdom is stolen from bumper-stickers and T-shirts.
Hyperspatially interconnected neural net.
I'd like to buy him for what he's worth and sell him for what he thinks
If brains were dynamite, she wouldn't have enough to blow her nose / the
wax out of her ears.
If brains were taxed, he'd get a rebate.
If God tried to help him, we'd have an eight day week.
If he donated his brain to science it'd set civilization back 50 years.
If he gets any denser, the geocentric theory of the universe will come true.
If he had a lobotomy he'd depressurize.
If he had half a brain, his ass would be lopsided.
If his brain were a hard drive, it would back up on a single floppy.
If it's not in his horoscope/tea leaves, he doesn't take it seriously.
If sex appeal were dynamite, he couldn't blow the cobwebs off his balls.
If there were a merciful God he'd be dead by now.
If they knock heads, implosion will suck all the air out of the room.
If wit were shit, he'd be constipated.
If you give him a penny for his thoughts, you get change back.
Immune from any serious head injury.
In a tub of Preparation H, he'd shrink down to thumb size.
In need of a ROM upgrade.
Includes a "thank you" note with her tax returns.
Infinite space between her ears.
Inhabits her own private timezone.
Inspected by #13.
IQ = dx / (1 + dx), where x = age.
It's hard to believe he beat 100,000 other sperm.
Just another flash in the bedpan.
Landing with his gear/brain up and locked.
Left his booster on the launch pad.
Leveled off before reaching altitude.
Life by Norman Rockwell, but screenplay by Stephen King.
Lightbulb over his head is burned out.
Like a barometer -- vacuum at the top.
Likes dunking for french fries.
Living proof that nature does not abhor a vacuum.
Looking for a nickel in the corner of a circular room.
Looks for the "Any" key.
Loose chip on the microprocessor board.
Loose wire to his headset/ringer.
Low on thinking gas.
Lugnuts rattling in the hubcaps.
Made a career out of mid-life crisis.
Makes predictions that make weathermen/economists look good.
Memorized every Dr. Seuss story written.
Mental software is Version 1.0 / still in beta test.
Might still be a virgin except for what nature did to her mind.
Mind like a steel trap -- everything gets mangled / full of mice /
nothing in, nothing out / rusted shut.
Monorail doesn't go all the way to Tomorrowland.
Nearly on a higher plane, but lost his boarding pass.
Needs another brain to make half-wit.
Needs front end alignment.
Needs his disk checked/reformatted.
Never had a headcold in her life since diseases can't exist in
Next-day delivery in a nanosecond world. -- Van Jacobson
Nineteen cents short of a paradigm.
Not as dumb as he looks, but that would be impossible.
Not done evolving yet.
Not enough brain cells for the Prozac to be effective.
Not enough change to break a dollar/pound/deutschmark/yen.
Not enough sense to stay out in the rain. (Like a 60's flower child.)
Not firing on all four/six/eight cylinders.
Not inflated to 90 PSI.
Not Intel Inside. (Or, given Pentium problems, just: Intel inside.)
Not much to show for four billion years of evolution.
Not running on full thrusters.
Not the same since they took him off his medication.
Not Turing equivalent.
Nothing on her radar.
Number 'n a hake. (New England expression; a notoriously stupid fish.)
Oil doesn't reach his dipstick.
On the batting end of a no-hitter.
One bit short of a byte.
One chip short of a megabyte.
One clearance short of landing/taking off.
One dimension short of reality.
One flying buttress short of a cathedral.
One Froot Loop shy of a full bowl.
One hamburger / a few french fries short of a Happy Meal.
One live brain cell away from being a talking monkey.
One node short of a network.
One of the early failures of electroshock therapy.
One shingle shy of a roof, and the water's getting in.
One ship short of a full fleet.
One span short of a bridge.
One strike past being called out.
One sub short of a party platter.
One taco short of a combination plate.
One tree short of a hammock.
One vine short of the tree. (For Tarzan types.)
Only playing with 51 cards.
Only playing with the jokers.
Operating in stand-by mode.
Ought to have a warning label on his forehead.
Outlet isn't grounded.
Overdue for reincarnation.
Overruns above 110 baud.
Paralyzed from the neck up.
Parked his head and forgot where he left it.
Pedaling real fast, but not getting anywhere.
People around her are at risk of second hand idiocy.
Perfect face for Halloween.
Perfect percussionist for an a capella group (duh, duh, duh...)
Perfect training subject for apprentice hypnotists.
Permanently rotated 90 degrees from the rest of us.
Phototrophic on a better day.
Pins 2 and 3 (RS-232) permanently connected to ground.
Playing an endgame with a king and no other pieces.
Playing baseball with a rubber bat.
Playing Scrabble, but we can't figure out what words he's building.
Plays pinochle with a poker deck.
Plays solitaire... for cash.
Plays tennis with no net and finds it challenging.
Plenty of myelin but not enough neurons.
Posts empty articles to Usenet, and enjoys rereading them later.
Prefers three left turns to one right turn.
Pressure's up, but there's a slow leak somewhere.
Proof God did die back in the 60s.
Proof God has a sense of humor.
Proof of Einstein's theory that there is no limit to human stupidity.
Proof that evolution *can* go in reverse.
Puts a finger in his ear so the draft through his head isn't annoying.
Quotes entire letters/articles as responses and hides her one
line of wisdom in the middle.
Racing fifty yards with a pregnant woman, he'd come in third.
Reading from an empty/blank/unformatted disk.
Ready to check in at the HaHa Hilton.
Ready to join the Anti-Mensa Society.
Relatively three-dimensional, as fictional characters go.
Renewable energy source for hot air balloons.
Reset line is glitching.
Result of a first cousin marriage.
RS232C brain with a DIN connector.
Running at 300 baud.
Running open. (Old mechanical teletype term.)
Running U.S. appliances on British current.
Runs squares around the competition.
S p a c e d o u t.
Sailboat fuel for brains.
Sat under the ozone hole too long.
Settled some during shipping and handling.
Seven seconds behind, and built to stay that way.
Several nuts over fruitcake minimum.
She can piss standing up, but not much else.
She wears a pony tail to cover up the valve stem.
She worries about the calories licking stamps and envelopes.
Should be the poster child for family planning.
Slept too close to his radium-dial watch.
So boring, his dreams have Muzak.
So dim, his psychic carries a flashlight.
So dumb, blondes tell jokes about him.
So dumb, he faxes face up.
So dumb, his dog teaches him tricks.
So stupid, mind readers charge her half price.
Solid concrete from the eyebrows backwards.
Some bugs in his software.
Some drink from the fountain of knowledge, but he just gargled.
Someday when she's younger...
Someone blew out his pilot light.
Sort of like an inverse Einstein.
Source code is missing a few lines.
Speaks math/FORTRAN better than English.
Spent a decade on the leading edge of drug experimentation.
Still sending messages with his secret decoder ring.
Still traumatized from the forest fire in "Bambi".
Stocksy-babes. (A truly vile British-slang insult.)
Strong, like bull. Smart, like tractor. Beautiful, like KV-2.
(A WWII era Russian tank.)
Suffers from Clue Deficit Disorder.
Supports nativist theories that man is formed from clay.
Surfing in Nebraska.
Takes her 1.5 hours to watch "60 Minutes".
Talks to plants on their own level.
Team player... No chance he'll develop a personality on his own.
Teflon brain -- nothing sticks. -- Lilly Tomlin
The best part of him ran down his mother's legs. -- Jackie Gleason
The definitive answer is: Her glass is half empty.
The going got weird, and he turned pro.
The heater's plugged in but the rheostat's shot.
The perfect personality to write software manuals.
The space between his ears powers vacuum pumps.
The spit valve's fallen off his trumpet again.
The twinkle in his eyes is actually the sun shining between his ears.
The two of them put together have an IQ over 150.
The wheel's spinning but the hamster's dead.
There's nothing wrong with you that couldn't be cured with
a little Prozac and a polo mallet. -- Woody Allen
Thinks "Private Enterprise" means owning a personal starship.
Thinks a permutation is a medical procedure.
Thinks at 5 baud.
Thinks cellular phones are carbon-based life forms.
Thinks E=MC^2 is a rap star.
Thinks male zebras are the ones with the black stripes.
Thinks Moby Dick is a kind of venereal disease.
Three miracles shy of being where he thinks he's at.
Throws his rod and reel off the bridge when casting.
(I resemble that remark. -- editor)
Too many jokers and not enough aces in his deck.
Too many stop bits in his transmissions.
Too much yardage between the goal posts.
Train of thought derailed / still boarding at the station.
Trying out for the javelin retrieval team.
Tuning in shortwave with a TV antenna.
Two degrees off square.
Two socks short of a pair.
Two suits short of a full deck. (A half-wit.)
Types 120 words a minute but her keyboard isn't plugged in.
Unclear which of Newton's three laws of motion keeps his ears apart.
Understands English as well as any parrot.
Useful as a football bat.
Useful as a kickstand on a horse.
Useful as a mint-flavored suppository.
Useful as an ashtray on a motorcycle.
Useful as piss on a forest fire.
Uses his head to keep the rain out of his neck.
Uses thumbtacks to post notes -- on his refrigerator.
Using a 1S-2D floppy for brains in a world of hard disks.
Vacuuming linoleum using a deep-pile setting. (Not picking up anything.)
Vaginally challenged, and preoccupied with the problem.
Views mold as a higher life form.
Was left on the Tilt-A-Whirl a bit too long as a baby.
Wasn't strapped in during launch.
Watches "Beavis and Butthead" to learn vocabulary.
Went to the dentist to have his cranial cavity filled.
When he was compiled they forgot to #include
With one more neuron he'd have a synapse.
Won't eat eggs because he believes the "This is your brain" ads.
Would make an excellent illustration in a proctology textbook.
Zero K memory.