Thursday, July 28, 2005

Mayor in his crazy youth

This is the second picture of three that the Mayor spoke of. As you can see it was back in the day when he sported a full head of hair, then someone gave him one of those Ronco Sheep Sheer devices and the rest is history.

Next week: An operation gone horribly wrong.

We could talk about the shuttle but...

Monster mice are devouring birds in South Africa. Maybe not monster mice, but big enough to eat a bird....oh never mind.

I don’t believe a word of it, not a word. The potential LCBO strike was just a ruse to get people to go crazy and buy up every damn bottle of alcohol in the store, and it worked. They even blew the dust off the Scottish Thistle flavored liqueur and sold that. Some adult video stores even reported selling out of the "Lezbo Lick Her" series, people were that desperate.

Speaking of desperate, O.J. Simpson was charged with stealing satellite TV. First of all, who hasn’t? Secondly, in O.J.’s defense, he said, he felt it would help him to catch the real killer.

Boy Scouts are told to be prepared. Well, they better be prepared to wait. Twice this week George Bush postponed his appearance at a service for four scoutmasters who died when they were struck by lightning. Bush’s first no show was, oddly enough due to the threat of thunder showers and he left the troupes of Boy Scouts waiting for hours. In the end hundreds of boys were hospitalized for exhaustion from the blistering heat. Most of them Scouts, suffered from dehydration, fatigue and lightheadedness, 7 complained of being fondled by scout masters, and 3 were abducted and have yet to be found. Bush will try again next week.

They have changed the Homolka/ Bernardo movie title from "Deadly" to "Karla" and it will premier at the Montreal Film Festival. Of course, people are outraged. They feel it is an attempt by the film makers to cash in on Karla’s recent release into society. The movie’s distributors say, this is not the case and in a show of good faith will change the film title yet again, to "Sexual Teenage School Girl Killers." Sounds like a Russ Myers film to me.

Experts say that in light of Toronto’s subway terror hoax Thursday, T.O. is not on the terrorist list for places to make a world statement and that we are safe from such a catastrophe as the one in London. OH! Not good enough for you huh? Hey Abdul! Why don’t you and the rest of your al-Qaeda bombing-boner-buddies, fuck the goats you road in on.

Speaking of not good enough there’s Bob Goodenow, former head of the NHL player’s association, who after getting his ass kicked in the new CBA with the league, kicked his own ass out Thursday. He will be replaced by Ted Saskin who is much better at taking it on his knees.

Paris Hilton had to take off her engagement ring after she complained that it was just too damn big and hurt her finger. Likewise her fiancé, had to take off his cock ring after he complained it was just too damn big and hurt know.

Hey, how about that Lance Armstrong?
How about those seven yellow jerseys?
How about his girl Cheryl Crow?
How about the erection in my pants?
What am I going to do now?

San Diego zoo’s giant panda Bai Yun is that didn’t do it.
Oh I know....Mick Jagger celebrated his 62nd birthday this week and for good measure Honest Ed Mirvish turned 92.
There....the erection’s gone.

Helpful factoid #3: Cows will produce 3% more milk when you play them songs that are under 100 beats a minute. May I suggest "Everybody Hurts," by REM.

Monday, July 25, 2005

So-so sorry....

My apologies. It appears my post of the Mayor’s picture yesterday was actually doctored. The Mayor would never, and I mean NEVER wear socks with sandals even when he was a fashion guru. Fortunately I have the correct untouched image today. The picture is of The Mayor taking a well deserved break from shooting, as a Hobbit extra, in Peter Jackson’s, Lord of the Rings. What? You don’t think the Mayor was in New Zealand? Just ask him.

Sunday, July 24, 2005

Picture this

The Mayor posted a picture recently on his Blog, and boasted that it was one of four in existence.

Perhaps it would interest you, my readership, to know that I, Strange, am in possession of the other three infamous poses. The first that I am posting is one of the Mayor in his days before political office when he was a fashion guru.

In fact, he was chief advisor for the likes of Carl Lauggerfeld and Ralf Lauren on many a catwalk. And yes, he was the one who started the socks with sandals craze.

On second thought, it now makes sense that he turned his aspirations to the political arena.

Next week: The Mayor in his crazy youth.

Give peas a chance....sorry, peace

Yesterday I may have made some insensitive comments about our Islamic friends. Today I would like to mend those fences by presenting you this link, so others like myself can start to understand the ways of our extremist brothers. Only then can we hope to build the bombs of peace together.

Helpful factoid #2

Four out of ten mice will die while listening to Beethoven, if you inject them with crystal meth.

U R what U eat

Today’s lesson kids, is all about nutrition. Now we all know what foods are good to eat, your fruits, your veggies, etc. and we all know the foods that we shouldn’t, your chocolate bars, your pizza pies, your gelatinous non-soy based milk dooflingus. However, you’d be surprised to find there is another food group that is very easy to avoid. In fact, all you have to do is read the label of these little honeys to know they are not very good for you and have no nutritional value. Although, there are some that are high in protien. Here are some self explanatory examples.

Saturday, July 23, 2005


Harry Potter? I refuse to talk about it here. You’ll have to scroll down.

Colin Farrell was granted a court injunction to prevent his ex-girlfriend from selling a sex tape of the two to an adult website. He stated that the tape was "jointly owned, they had an agreement not to make it public and it would irreparably damage his career if it did".

Colin my friend. Come here. Walk with me for a moment pal. Do you really want to be remembered for "Alexander," "Hope’s War" and "Daredevil"? You’re career is already on the slides buddy. You have no major awards. You’re born in Dublin. Nothing good ever game out of Dublin unless it was wrapped and ticking. You’re 5'9", I’ve got longer pubic hairs than that. What’s the big whoop? Do you think that anyone would give a rat’s ass about Tommy Lee & Pam or Paris, if it weren’t for a little, "who’s your daddy," that leaked to the media. Plus I hear you’re packin’ quite a monster below the belt buckle. People want to see shit like that. Do yourself a favor, market it yourself. It’s what your career really needs.

The U.S. is toying with the idea of adding two months to Daylight Savings Time and passing the savings onto us. Bush, that wile old bastard, is there nothing he won’t do? So if we don’t change with them, there will be scheduling chaos in November and March every year. I wonder what Fenris would have to say about that? Fenris!

In a way, we're getting back at the States, a new study said, (remember the studies I told you not to take seriously), Torontonians especially, are no longer saying, "Eh". This of course, is going to squash an age old belief by Americans, that "Eh," is an essential part of our dialogue. Apparently, according to the study, (the ones I told you not to take seriously), we are replacing "Eh" with "So, like, whatever and stuff."

Well, that’s just dandy-o. That’s a much better way to speak....just like our pals south of the 49th parallel. Just make us a state and be done with it.

A baby was born in a taxi this week. The proud parents named her Becky after the Beck cab that served as a delivery room. Yeah, so like whatever and stuff, all I have to say is, good thing it was Beck Taxi and not one of their rivals. What’s the service I use? Oh yeah Whore Taxi. What? They’re fast and reliable.

Did you hear? The moose have formed a gang and are waging war on the police. One officer is dead and two are in critical after moose hit two cruisers this week. It’s only a matter of time before they get into trafficing drugs and guns. Triads beware.

Deaths of the week. After a long fight and serious damage to his dylithium crystals, he lost all power, dropped out of warp and Scotty, (James Doohan), finally beamed up.
He influenced the likes of Mick Jagger, Elton John and Rod Stewart. No, not James Doohan... idiot! Geesh! I’m talking about Long John Baldry, who died this week at age 62.
Oh and that guy who invented the TV dinners. He passed on as well.

This week there was also something about a bombing in a subway and a bus, or did I dream it? It sounds vaguely familiar to an incident a few weeks ago. Creativity ya frickin’ retards!
"Hey Abu, here’s a good idea. Why don’t we bomb the same place again."
"Good one Muhammad. You will have many virgins when you get to Allah."

Weekly rant

Commercials. Some are funny, amusing, even hypnotizing, and then there are the others....the ones I loath, detest, exude a violent hatred for. I freak out every time they’re on. They make me want to strangle kittens, or defecate into a pool of vomit, or defecate into a pool of strangled kittens. You get the picture. These are not ads that I am fond of seeing.

Perhaps you too, have your own short list that you’d like to tell me about? This is mine.

First, that guy who sings about how, "he just can’t get enough," and then someone plops a sub in front of his boney, ritalin ass. Why don’t they put this guy in prison and see if he’s still singing the same tune when he gets out. I'll bet he doesn't walk the same and won't shit for months. Or wait....I have a better idea...Colin! Get your big dick over here and bring the video camera!

Next is that annoying Cadbury commercial. You know the one. The two chicks losing their fuckin’ minds over caramel.
"I wuv carwamel!"
"Hawoe carwamel!"
If ever I wanted to beat someone with an ugly stick, it would be those two candy-buying, candy asses.

Last but not least is that creepy Burger King spot and their tag line of, "Wake up to the King." The guy opens his curtains and that big plastic Burger King head is grinin’ and starring back at him through the window. Fuck man! Call the police. There’s obviously some deviant running amok on your street. Or worse, he wakes up in the morning and the thing is in bed with him. Holy fuck! Does this conjure up memories of the Godfather for anyone? Something like that is laying next to me and I’m questioning how much I drank last night, or who put the drugs in my dinner.

Please take these monstrosities off the air. I promise I’ll buy your fuckin’ subs, your chocolate bars, your God damn breakfast Whoppers. Just get rid of this shit.....or maybe I could not watch TV? That would solve everything.....naw.

I'd like to say this about that

So the biggest winner last week wasn’t "The Wedding crashers" or "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," it was a freekin’ book for gawdsake. That’s right, J K Rowling's, "Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince," made over a 100 million in it’s first weekend.

It was sold out in the book stores. It was sold out in the alley, (they still had crack). It was soldout in the fuckin’ Dominion when I went to pick up a bag of "spunions". How surprised was I? This book is sold in Dominion?

I have to tell you although I applaud J K for rakin’ it in, I find this whole book business very frustrating. Why? Because as an aspiring author working on my third book, of what is referred to in the circle as, "Dicklit." I’m quickly realizing that unless it’s, "chiclit," I have what you might call a snowball's chance in hell of finding my book in Dominion one day.

After all, 80% of the book buying public are women and the other 20% are out shaking their macho bravado with Tom Clancy and John Grisham. Not exactly a captive audience when you’re trying to make people laugh with dick and fart jokes.

Perhaps I’m attacking this all wrong and should adopt a new approach? First I could change my name to ...hmm...let’s say Christina Strange. Fool everyone into thinking I’m a brilliant female author on the rise.

Then I could make all my leading male characters female. Just so happens, the new novel I’m working on, would have a strong female lead who cleans outhouses for a living. This is a potential goldmine! Women talking about sex and fart jokes isn’t "dicklit," it’s Bridget Jones with strength.

Then I need a catchy title. Maybe even something, buyers will mistake for another book and pick up by accident. How about, "Hairy Putter and the Half-erect Penis."

Let the query letters fly.

And now for something completely different

Given the foul mood I seem to be in today, I thought for a change of pace I would post this link.

1) Because I need a good laugh, and this link made me howl. Which means you might find it mildly amusing.
2) Because my back is killing me and I need something to take my mind off of it.
3) If I don’t do something to change my mood soon, my neighbor is going to see what his garden really looks like...when he’s buried underneath it. (Someone else will have to dig.....oh my frickin’ back!)
4) see #3

So check it out. It’s pictures that put kids into adult situations. They are hilarious. It's either that, or attack the guy next door with a weed-whacker.

Now serving #1000

I don’t do this very often. In fact, you’ve obviously heard the line, "Every time a bell rings , an angel gets his wings." (Hey there’s one for you Mayor). Well, when I masturbate 1000 times, I link to someone’s Blog.

This time that someone is Linds, another creative beast like moi, and I don’t mind tellin’ you people, my arms are tired. So head over to Glamazon Shoe Diaries on the west coast and see what each little toe is up to. She’s got a great Blog there, and some fine home cooked baked goods ta boot...Isn’t she something?...Don’t ya just want to eat her all up?....What are you still doing here? Go!

Friday, July 15, 2005

The center of the universe is no more

A little known fruit store will be shutting its doors for the last time today. Year’s of speculated drug use, debauchery, and low brow shenanigans have finally caught up to the fruit and veggies and their owner, who can no longer continue under a veil of secrecy.

The last customer is seen here. Why he is dressed for winter in this heat? Only he knows, but he is a representative of the craziness, and mental hopscotch that plagued the atmosphere for years, of a produce store that will not be missed.

La-de-da-de-da and the heat goes on...

Seriously you could fry an egg on the sidewalk. Monday it would have been done in 17 minutes. By Wednesday the fuckin’ eggs were hopping back into the shell it was so God damn hot. But patience my peeps. Just a few more months, and relief will be here. We can go back to the weather we all know and love.

At least there seems to be a break in all this heat as if prayers were answered.

"God bless Mommy and Daddy and Ontario Hydro
Thank God for New York, where we’ve been importing power from, I guess they're not as self-centered as I thought they were. And Michigan. It’s only fair we give them our garbage. And Quebec. Hey you should thank us for giving all your strippers jobs. And me a week I’ll think of something. Amen."

Hot week, but not for news

Paul McCartney released a new album this week. It’s Sir Paul’s 20th album since the Beatles and the 17th to cause diarrhea and vomiting.

A new study just out, says that people shouldn’t pay so much attention to studies and take them seriously. you see the paradox?

Let’s hear it for Rockport, Ma., who have repealed a 150 year-old law concerning prohibition. That’s right. Outside of a brief period in 1933 the town has been dry all this time. When you see a good lookin’ woman in Rockport you know she’s beautiful and it’s not just the alcohol talkin’. Now let’s see the town take the next step and overturn that stupid law that says no sex with woodland animals.

Good Lord, the J to the Lo is back in the news. This time over her new fragrance that she says will smell like the, "core of her inner being". The core? Where so many men have visited? That core? Or does she mean the core, pumping blood and oozing innards? Yeah let me smeer some of that on me. Or perhaps the core that lets out the secret burps and farts when she’s all alone. Doesn’t sound too enticing if you ask me. Personally which ever core she’s referring to, I don’t think it’s going to smell very good.

Death of the week goes to Francis Langford, who wowed the troupes on the Bob Hope tour with nothing more than a flash of an ankle. My those were bawdy times weren’t they? She also sang "I’m in the mood for love." She may have even been responsible for Rockford keeping that law in place for so long. I don’t know. But now she’s gone to be reunited with Bob....wait Bob Hope is dead right?

This week’s helpful factoid.: Coke is not a good spermicide.

C's Beat A's

A new collective bargaining agreement was announced between the owners and the players in the NHL. Big fuckin’ deal! CBA doesn't that just stand for Cunts Beat Assholes? I don’t even care about hockey anymore. Isn’t hockey that game where you throw horseshoes and call "Mulligan’s"? No...wait...I think that’s Women’s Tennis, another sport a care nothing for. Poker rules now my friends. I even watch it on TV. They make it sound exciting- "Oh Jimmy! player 4 has flopped a flush draw. Look for him to slow bet on the turn and draw the pocket nines and the big slick into a massive pot. One of our players is surely going home after this hand."

Hey , remember when the only time you saw someone go "all in" was in pornos?

Anyway, Hockey’s back and there are some new rule changes for the betterment of the game. Forget what you heard about the smaller goalie equipment, and the tag-up offsides and the red-line replacement. They are nothing compared to the other changes that are coming.

So, like when I had the MJ verdict a day before the jury made their decision, I now have the intricacies of the new CBA which I will post for you. You’re welcome.

Suggested rule and equipment changes:

All players will wear smaller jock cups made of recycled glass. This will allow more open ice to the players taking slap-shots and eventually result in more goals scored.

The penalty box will be replaced by an ultimate fighting octagon. This will remove fighting from the ice and keep it where it belongs in the blood sport arena. The player who wins will be allowed to remain in the game after his penalty is complete. The loser, provided he can still walk, will be banished to the dressing room or the infirmary.

In the event of a tie after sudden death and shootout, the game will be decided by rock paper scissors.

All players will wear star players names on the back of their jerseys. This will promote the real players with talent, while protecting them from injury as the opponent will not know which player to target.

2 stick allotment, per player, per season. After that, players must use hands and feet to move the puck to their team-mates.

Team that finishes last will be eliminated from competing in subsequent seasons. Players will be divided up between the remaining teams. This will happen annually until only twelve teams remain in the league.

There are more changes coming, but I found them too absurd. I’ll just let you see them for yourself when the sport resumes. Game on!

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Pottahawk 2005: Twice as tasty- 25% more frolic

Oh oh! It's Wednesday. That can only mean one thing. Strange is taking off again this weekend.

That's right ya rag-a-muffins, fun is infectious and I’ve got the rockin’ pneumonia and the boogie-woogie blues. So it’s off to Bayfest this weekend, then off with his head next week. However before I go, I’d like to apologize for some erroneous directions that I posted Saturday. It was the tree that looked like Vanilla Ice, not the one that looked like Ernest Bognine. Sorry.
To try to make it up to you I thought I’d post some of the pics from this year’s Pottahawk. Enjoy, and I promise, no more talk of peeing. If you want water sports, then maybe you should be reading Bob Noxious, movie reviewer for the Mitchieville Mungaloid. There will be no more discussion of pee here....ok, maybe just one more.

I said frolic! That's more like it. Posted by Picasa

Make a hole! Make it wide! Posted by Picasa

Shame, what happened to the Jews in WWII Posted by Picasa

Mr. Blue Shirt looks for a bush party Posted by Picasa

Elvis! Hey King! Posted by Picasa

Who's Your Pimp Daddy? Starring the late great John Holmes Posted by Picasa

That's it...Dance! Now pee on each other. Posted by Picasa

Saturday, July 09, 2005

Relax and forget it all this week

Forget everything this week. Just forget it. " Fuck this! Fuck the napkin!" Clear your mind.

Forget what Karla said in French when she rushed off to the CBC for a manipulative self-serving statement after her release.

Forget what Bernardo said in English about his exwife in response, as he pulled the marionette strings of his lawyer.

Forget the 2012 Olympics that were awarded to London this week and the transit bombings that followed. (Must have been the French. They’re such sore losers.)

Forget the G8 summit, try to forget what Bob Geldof looks like, (well try anyway).

Forget the death of Luther Vandross. Forget your bills, forget the fact that your wife is banging the UPS guy. Forget all the shit. In the words of Metallica, "nothing else matters."

It’s Pottahawk weekend. Mardi Gras on the water, 2200 boats, side by side, or side by each, (whichever way you prefer).

A day of 10,000 beers, exposed flesh, obscure people, and sunburns galore in the worlds biggest toilet. Someone contact Wild On. This is what life should be all about, piss and get pissed, ( or, live and let live, if you will), not the other shit.

So forget, just for one day. Your mind will thank you, your bladder will thank you, and I thank you.


First, Lets look at this word Pottahawk shall we. Potta from the Mohawk word pottawachee, which means to go pee in waist high water, and hawk, which as everyone knows, is a fast flying bird of prey.

There you have it. Pottahawk: to pee quickly in water.

With all this babble about the blessed event, I have been informed, I’m close to the top when you Google Pottahawk. Therefore , I feel it is my duty to help out my fellow Googlers who might be interested in joining the fun this weekend. Following, are the directions to the Pottahawk Piss-up.

Take the QEW to the 403- exit the ramp that says Turkey Point Subterranean Tunnel. (This is the quickest way. Trust me.)
Take dirt road nine past the farm house and the tree that looks like Ernest Borgnine.
Turn right at the rock. Ignore the transvestites otherwise you may not get there in time, (I missed 2003 because of them).
Turn left at the German beer garden called "Wunder Bar." If you find your vehicle in the lake at this point, it’s because you’ve gone too far.
Now listen, you’re almost there. There will be a check point with a sentry on duty. He’s a tall John Holmes-lookin'-dude. You need the password otherwise he’ll just stare at you and make you feel uncomfortable. Mostly because you won’t know which eye to stare back at. Since I’m such a friend I’ll give you the password to enter. Let’s see....last year it was "Cannonball!", the year before it was "I will not buy this tobacconist, it is scratched." ....Oh yes, this year it's, "I can see you peeing out your vagina." Have fun, I’ll see you there.

Tall John Holmes-lookin'-dude Posted by Picasa

Friday, July 08, 2005

Friday- yes/ Sunday- no

I'm leaving Saturday morning so I thought I'd do the ol' rare Friday post-a-roo. I suppose I could post Sunday but unless you are able to translate gibberish, I’m not sure that I’ll have anything coherent to say. Hell, I’m not sure I’m going to post tomorrow, but I’ll try. I have to stop squandering so much time reading the comment section in the Mitchievillian, (that’s the local newspaper, isn’t it?).....oh Christ! Am I talking out loud and typing this as well.

I have to increase my meds.

...and the winner is...

The answer to the question, "who is peeing when the picture was taken?", is: They all were, including the 12 people on the boat in the background.

Congratulations to Ed Blymouthsburg, known to his friends as, "The Woodchipper," for correctly answering the question and winning the grand prize all expenses paid trip to Pottahawk.

Prizes include: a six pack of Nelson Memorial Beer, five sets of beads (fuchsia), first class accommodations on a luxury rowboat, choice of hotdog or deep-fried ham balls, 1 pack of smokes, (Player’s plain), 90 block sun screen, a personally autographed 8X10 and "thumbs up" from The Mayor of Mitchieville, 1 bright blue Speedo with built in testicle net, and an anal, beer carrying, water raft, blowup doll with life-like hair.

It just doesn't get any better.

Congrats to the Woodchipper Posted by Picasa

Sunday, July 03, 2005

Another excerpt from The Center Posted by Picasa

Goys are us (excerpt)

Fuck is a wonderful little four letter word. It has so many uses. It can be used as an exclamation point when expressing anger, joy, disbelief, astonishment oh--- and of course pleasure.

I have often wondered as to its origin. Who was the first person to say fuck? How did this person come up with it? How was it decided that this word was not appropriate when all others hearing it for the first time didn’t even know what the word meant?

Some say that Fuck was an acronym for, Found Under Carnal Knowledge, or what I believe is the true origin, Fornicate Under Consent of the King. Whatever might be its true inception, one thing is infallible, it is Bubba Burlock’s favorite word and he uses it for everything, in every conceivable form, for every occasion. "What the fuck are you fucks, fuckin’ doing to that fuckin’ fuck?"

Bubba is obnoxious at best and definitely wears the asshole pants in his family. If you were on his good side he was your best buddy, but he could also be one nasty prick if he decided to.

Many employees had left Ultimate Produce and some had come back. Bubba was on his third tour of duty through the war-torn ravages of this produce dictatorship. We consider, out of all of us, Bubba is most likely to go postal since he was long ago, by his own assessment, wounded by friendly fire.

If you have something you want to eat, don’t leave it laying around. Bubba eats everything, chips, cookies, personal lunches, nothing is safe around this junk-food junkie and his vacuous black-hole-of-a-mouth. I find it hard to comprehend that he so callously shoves anything and everything into this orifice—you see---Bubba has Crohns disease. We know this, because I, and everyone else hear about it daily. He spends a considerable amount of time holed up in the washroom, he can fart on command, and they are usually hideous and follow him around like a homeless guy looking for spare change.

It was hard to decide what everyone liked least, being the next one into the privy after Bubba, or listening to his play-by-play, after-the-fact descriptions of texture, consistency and blood loss. To him, it was like a treasure hunt. "Guess what I found in my shit today?" Ugh . . . I shudder as much as you must be and you only have to read about it.

Needless to say he isn’t very popular with the ladies. It’s not that he’s an ugly dude. It’s just that inside of five minutes after meeting a girl the conversation turns to how sick he is and the result of that affliction.
"Yeah I have this problem. Have you ever heard of Crohns disease? – No . . . well , It’s a form of inflammatory bowel disease with presumed, but as yet unidentified, genetic influences. – Are you enjoying your meal?– Did you know that Crohns disease affects 34,000 people each year and this number appears to be on the increase? – No, it’s not contagious but it sure is
uncomfortable. You should see my fecal matter. – They serve a delicious chocolate fudge and raspberry torte here. Can I order you one?– You know, you can tell what I’ve been eating because it doesn’t look much different coming out as it did going in.– Would you like to go out again?"

After conversations of this nature you can see why women aren’t interested in Bubba’s sexual prowess. In fact he was convinced that the only way he was going to get a hot chick was to tie her to a chair in a home invasion.

With all the things on his hate list, I know he loathes our boss Jacob most of all, although, the run-ins have never led to "fuck-you’s" and a knife fight.

I always think of Jacob and Bubba as two brooding weather systems that if they ever met would cause furious tornadoes and leave a path of devastation in their wake. It was already tough enough to work under the other elements, - customers and kooks alike, - then have to also deal with the infectious negative moods these two could sometimes inflict.

I can identify with each of my co-workers in some way. Bubba is my alter ego, my dark side, possessing all the death and darkness, venom and vitriol that I sometimes felt working at Ultimate Produce but—with one difference. I never acted on it, with Bubba you couldn’t be sure.


I think we are ready for next week’s Pottahawk piss-up which could be another "best day ever." The trial test of how much the human body can consume in terms of alcohol was successful. One and a half bottles of rye later, The Mayor of Mitchieville was still standing. Aside from shaking slightly, and calling everyone "Fenris," he seemed unaffected.

Below is another picture from 2004 to wet the appetite.

You could win an all inclusive trip to the big dip by answering this question.

Which person below was peeing when this picture was taken?

One week away Posted by Picasa

Hi, it's me, I'm back

I'm a little dirtier, smokey, mosquito bit, spider violated, and my gut churns from the ingestion of under-cooked, dead animal meat. There even may be a faint wiff of jacaranda that always reminds me vaguely of piss....Jesus! I hope it’s not actually piss? There seemed to be a free-for-all urinal behind a nearby tent that makes me wonder. However, the mattress stayed harder than I did, I took that all important step closer to alcohol poisoning, and the raccoons did provide some entertainment as they squabbled over ill-gotten hotdog buns and proceeded to tear each other to shreds.

So the week that just passed us by: a day late and, (as mentioned), a hotdog bun short. It saw us break records for electricity use during an unforgiving heat wave, until the urine test came back positive for steroids and the records were rescinded.

We became only the third nation to approve same sex marriage, which puts us right up there with Belgium and the Netherlands. Next up? Interspecies marriage.

Shark attacks continued along the coast in Fla. I have one statement to make to the people of Florida, "you’re going to need a bigger boat."

Another reality show was launched. This one, called Being Bobby Brown follows the Brittany debacle with hubby Kevin Federline. I think I’ll just wait til they dump all these losers on the next edition of The Surreal Life with Ron Jeremy, Courtney Love, Bubbles the Chimp and that chick who had an online casino tattooed to her forehead for 10 grand.

In the Death of the week category, that guy, you know who I’m talkin’ about. He may have been on Hogan’s Heros as well, but he was the voice of Tigger. Yup, he’s pushing up daisies. So sad, and he was the only one.

The Cat came back as well, that miserable mess that was the Rochester to Toronto Ferry is apparently in operation once again until the new operators go bankrupt that is. I mean Rochester? Fuck! Where do I get my brochures? I want to book my next vacation now ahead of the rush.

Did you watch Live 8, or go? I didn't, although someone did haul a 27" plasma out to the camp grounds. I was only interested in seeing a few of the acts anyway, Garik Sucachev, Mahotella Queens, Le Vibrazeoni, and Bjork. I know what you're saying, "Stange, are you fuckin' nuts and pissin' crazy? Bjork?"

I sure talked alot about piss in this post, didn't I?