Someone’s finally invented it. The car toilet. It plugs into the cigarette lighter. I wasn’t aware they were still making cars with cigarette lighters. "Damn it! Timmy's in the bathroom again. I know, I'll just go out to the Lexus and take a crap." Any-hoo...they did tests where they sent entire families in a vehicle from England to Italy with one of these new fangled contraptions and they never got out of the car once. Of course the car didn’t exactly smell great when they got there, but they’re working on an air-freshener that plugs into your cigarette lighter next.
A woman in L.A. was pulled over by the highway patrol for putting a 9yr, and 11yr old in the trunk of her car before she drove off. In her defense the women pleaded that she only did it because there was no room left in the car once she got the other seven people into the Toyota. Good thing they didn’t use this family when they were testing out that car toilet.
Hey! We’re number 1! We’re number 1! In polluting the air with lead. Between Sudbury and Timmins, Ontario paves the way for cancer causing pollutants in North America right behind Ohio. A new slogan for tourists perhaps?...Come to Ontario. We’ll fill you full of lead.
Smile you’re on transit camera. That’s right the TTC is going to spend, (little finger to lip), one bazillion dollars, installing cameras in buses, subway and street cars. Soon Conrad Black will have nowhere to go. I also sense a new reality series coming. Bus Route 42 (the Jane/ Finch corridor).
Eddie Albert of Green Acres fame died at the ripe old age of 99. Holy crap! That’s frickin’ old.
The defense in the Michael Jackson Trial rested this week mainly because their efforts to call Eddie Albert as a witness was foiled when he died. If you haven’t been following the months of scrutiny revolving around this circus, I’ll fill you in. The Prosecutors say "He did it," and the Defense say, "He didn’t."
Finally a woman is suing Yahoo for, (little finger again), 3 million dollars. She claims that her Ex posted nude pictures of her on Yahoo and posed as her in chat rooms, enticing men to show up at her work to have sexual relations with her during the lunch break. When she informed Yahoo about this activity, they did nothing and the men kept coming to see her.....All I have to say is, I can’t believe I fell for that. Geesh!
Sunday, May 29, 2005
...and on the 7th day the Lord said, "Play ball!"
It’s Sunday which as a theme can only mean one thing. No! Not the Lord’s day! Sports!!!....hey, it can be two things.
Sports Sunday, where sweaty men take to the grid-iron, or pitch, or diamond, or rink, to masterfully play the game they love for millions of dollars. So here are a bunch of ripped-off links from Gorilla Mask.
First of all we need a national anthem or reasonable facsimile there of. I don’t know why there is no visual on this link but you can hear it, which, I guess, is good enough. All rise.
Now, I’m not a soccer fan, or as the Brits say, "Football! Ya poofter!" In fact, I'd rather have spincter bleeching, than sit and watch a soccer match. However, I guess there was an exciting game between Liverpool and Milan this week that defied all odds with Liverpool storming back from a 3-0 deficit and winning in dramatic fashion with penalty kicks. In tribute to that game here are a few other soccer links that fall into that category. 1. 2. 3.
Soccer and a naked chick? Ok, now you have my attention. Nil nil? Wow! What a great game, sign me up.
Ok, Yup that’s it. I got nothing and neither does Gorilla Mask. I’m sitting at a high stakes table with pocket twos and a bunch of soccer clips. Not exactly a good hand to go all in...so...here’s a soundboard if you’re interested, for The Longest Yard. Yeah, I thought as much, but I think there’s a sound byte of Burt Reynolds bitch slapping someone...yeah I thought as much.
Sports Sunday, where sweaty men take to the grid-iron, or pitch, or diamond, or rink, to masterfully play the game they love for millions of dollars. So here are a bunch of ripped-off links from Gorilla Mask.
First of all we need a national anthem or reasonable facsimile there of. I don’t know why there is no visual on this link but you can hear it, which, I guess, is good enough. All rise.
Now, I’m not a soccer fan, or as the Brits say, "Football! Ya poofter!" In fact, I'd rather have spincter bleeching, than sit and watch a soccer match. However, I guess there was an exciting game between Liverpool and Milan this week that defied all odds with Liverpool storming back from a 3-0 deficit and winning in dramatic fashion with penalty kicks. In tribute to that game here are a few other soccer links that fall into that category. 1. 2. 3.
Soccer and a naked chick? Ok, now you have my attention. Nil nil? Wow! What a great game, sign me up.
Ok, Yup that’s it. I got nothing and neither does Gorilla Mask. I’m sitting at a high stakes table with pocket twos and a bunch of soccer clips. Not exactly a good hand to go all in...so...here’s a soundboard if you’re interested, for The Longest Yard. Yeah, I thought as much, but I think there’s a sound byte of Burt Reynolds bitch slapping someone...yeah I thought as much.
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Week part 1
Whew! What a busy freakin’ week. In fact I think I’m going to have to do this in two parts. Hold on to you balls my friends, we have much ground to cover.
Let’s start with the 31 fires caused by those damn kids playin’ with fireworks on Monday. Get a summer Job you morons! What’s this world coming too? This isn't Cheektowaga. When I was young, we just blew our hands off with a cherry bomb and that was the end of it.
I was intrigued by the guy they found wandering around England. He had no identification, and couldn’t speak, but when he sat at a piano he was like some sort of classical Mozart playin’ kind-a-guy. Turns out this wretch used to be a street performer before he went missing. They got his name, life history, PIN numbers, everything, from a mime who used to work with the poor sod.
All I kept thinking, when I heard this was, "Holy Fuck! That mime must be brilliant!" They got all that info from his actions?
Did you know that we are obsessed with email. So much so, that we do it at least 3 times a day, or more than the average male masturbates. All I can say is thank Christ I’m not the average male we’d be on the computer all day.
Speaking of, can I do it til I need glasses, apparently Viagra is suspected to cause blindness in some cases. That would explain all the ugly chicks I keep waking up with.
Cyber-punks are now holding your computer files for ransom. Yuppers, it’s true. They hack in, encode it, and then you have to pay the little bastards to get the encryption. I don’t know about you, but I’d be pissed if I couldn’t access all my porn.
Let’s start with the 31 fires caused by those damn kids playin’ with fireworks on Monday. Get a summer Job you morons! What’s this world coming too? This isn't Cheektowaga. When I was young, we just blew our hands off with a cherry bomb and that was the end of it.
I was intrigued by the guy they found wandering around England. He had no identification, and couldn’t speak, but when he sat at a piano he was like some sort of classical Mozart playin’ kind-a-guy. Turns out this wretch used to be a street performer before he went missing. They got his name, life history, PIN numbers, everything, from a mime who used to work with the poor sod.
All I kept thinking, when I heard this was, "Holy Fuck! That mime must be brilliant!" They got all that info from his actions?
Did you know that we are obsessed with email. So much so, that we do it at least 3 times a day, or more than the average male masturbates. All I can say is thank Christ I’m not the average male we’d be on the computer all day.
Speaking of, can I do it til I need glasses, apparently Viagra is suspected to cause blindness in some cases. That would explain all the ugly chicks I keep waking up with.
Cyber-punks are now holding your computer files for ransom. Yuppers, it’s true. They hack in, encode it, and then you have to pay the little bastards to get the encryption. I don’t know about you, but I’d be pissed if I couldn’t access all my porn.
Job idea #1
Hey kids, school’s out soon and there are still a few summer jobs out there for those of you who would like to earn a buck. Of course, what’s left to select from, isn’t exactly the pick of the litter. Beggars can’t be choosers remember.
So it is, I launch a series of summer job ideas for our youth. Just doing my part. Check out the happy fellow below. (That could be you!) They always have an opening for a new employee.
So it is, I launch a series of summer job ideas for our youth. Just doing my part. Check out the happy fellow below. (That could be you!) They always have an opening for a new employee.
Ticketed off
On Monday, Fenris got me to thinking, which is dangerous in itself, (you can almost smell the rubber burning). I started to get angry over the cash grab that is also known as a traffic violation. Just ask the unsuspecting motorists who found parking tickets on Victoria Day Monday, when they returned to their cars after an enjoyable night of fireworks.
Then I heard of a guy who is trying to fight parking tickets in the beloved burrows of Mitchieville and elsewhere by plugging up the courts. He even quit his job to join the noble cause. (Bravo Sir!) I started to feel fortitude mix with that anger.
Recently, I've spent some time in our wonderful court system over stupid speeding violations. Stupid, because I admit I was exceeding the speed limit , slightly, and was penalized for it. Stupid, because I constantly witness brazen assholes zooming by me at warp factor nine, yet you never see too many of them pulled aside to fill the judicial coffers.
Now I’m, with Fenris’ help, livid DAMN IT! I want to rage against the machine. I want to fuck shit up. I want to urinate in the soup. I want to go to this link and learn how to do it. Sorry that was the wrong link, but I assure you this is the correct one.
I used to just beat my dick like it owed me money but now I want to beat the system or at least delay the inevitable. Forget those idots at Xcopper and other Traffic Ticket Freedom Fighters who are just in it for the money. Join me my brethren. Anarchy. Anarchy! ANARCHY!!!!!
Then I heard of a guy who is trying to fight parking tickets in the beloved burrows of Mitchieville and elsewhere by plugging up the courts. He even quit his job to join the noble cause. (Bravo Sir!) I started to feel fortitude mix with that anger.
Recently, I've spent some time in our wonderful court system over stupid speeding violations. Stupid, because I admit I was exceeding the speed limit , slightly, and was penalized for it. Stupid, because I constantly witness brazen assholes zooming by me at warp factor nine, yet you never see too many of them pulled aside to fill the judicial coffers.
Now I’m, with Fenris’ help, livid DAMN IT! I want to rage against the machine. I want to fuck shit up. I want to urinate in the soup. I want to go to this link and learn how to do it. Sorry that was the wrong link, but I assure you this is the correct one.
I used to just beat my dick like it owed me money but now I want to beat the system or at least delay the inevitable. Forget those idots at Xcopper and other Traffic Ticket Freedom Fighters who are just in it for the money. Join me my brethren. Anarchy. Anarchy! ANARCHY!!!!!
Hook a brother up
A shout out to the East Coast. Ed, newest disciple of the Mayor is getting into the Blog game and I popped over to check his shit out. You should too. Always looking to hook a brother up, especially if he's a creative little guitar playin' bugger....and since Dominic Triano died, I figured why the hell not.
Monday, May 23, 2005
Derek Smalls! He wrote this.
I don't normally do this but once again Fenris Badwulf, (minus the umlauts on the U), has defecated a gem of literary genuis, in response to yesterdays Blog on police enforcing the Highway Safety Act. Here are his thoughts, which I believe, are too good to be hidden within the comment section. They need a public forum, with much discussion, deliberation, perhaps a flogging or two, and craft services, (finger foods I guess would be ok).
Once again, the racist method of profiling is at work among our oppressor police forces.
How much longer does our diverse community or poly gendered peoples have to suffer this brutality? It is unfair. I am outraged.
Of course, this campaign of terror caused global warming with all the deadly toxins spewed out by the Gestapo in their earth-rapist fetish battle cruisers. And not a single mention of saving a tree or a seal pup.
As a solution, I suggest two things:First, the police should be immediately restructured along diverse lines by firing those white males surplus to quota and immediately hiring sufficient diverse candidates to bring the roster up to the rainbow ideal.
Second, the police should not use weapons or cars. Reasonable debate and consideration of all views is surely enough to settle any known dispute. And bicycles or horses or llamas are earth-love embracing.This is the final solution to this problem. If you disagree, you are not politically correct and should be shouted down.
Be reasonable.
Bravo Mr. B. I support you and salute you Sir. When I go to court in 8 months to fight that 4 month old seat-belt infraction, I want you to represent me. Also, somewhere in there, I'm sure is a message that Fenris hopes you had a great May two-four.
Once again, the racist method of profiling is at work among our oppressor police forces.
How much longer does our diverse community or poly gendered peoples have to suffer this brutality? It is unfair. I am outraged.
Of course, this campaign of terror caused global warming with all the deadly toxins spewed out by the Gestapo in their earth-rapist fetish battle cruisers. And not a single mention of saving a tree or a seal pup.
As a solution, I suggest two things:First, the police should be immediately restructured along diverse lines by firing those white males surplus to quota and immediately hiring sufficient diverse candidates to bring the roster up to the rainbow ideal.
Second, the police should not use weapons or cars. Reasonable debate and consideration of all views is surely enough to settle any known dispute. And bicycles or horses or llamas are earth-love embracing.This is the final solution to this problem. If you disagree, you are not politically correct and should be shouted down.
Be reasonable.
Bravo Mr. B. I support you and salute you Sir. When I go to court in 8 months to fight that 4 month old seat-belt infraction, I want you to represent me. Also, somewhere in there, I'm sure is a message that Fenris hopes you had a great May two-four.
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Are we there yet?
Ahhhh Sunday....and not just any Sunday, the Sunday of a long weekend. It’s also a another road blitz by the O.P.P. to catch bad drivers. "Operation Fine Example," has been in effect since early Friday morning and the reports I have heard so far are pretty remarkable. The top speed was a guy doing 205 kph in his Viper. However, I’m not sure it counts, you see, they clocked him doing that on the shoulder of the road, not a driving lane. Here I thought that rich fucks were just lazy. It turns out they’re also reckless drivers too.
Hats off to the idiot with no licence, insurance and the wrong plates on his vehicle who thought it would be fun to tailgate a police car.
Honorable mention to the guy in the 78' Impala with no brakes, no backseat, and apparently no brains. He was driving backwards up the 401. There’s also the people who actually thought the magical force of gravity would hold their new $1000 fridge on the back of their trailer on the way up to the cottage.
But....My favorite, by far, was the chick the cops pulled over doing 145 kph and the three other vehicles with guys trying to keep up to her in order to make a date.
Drive safe.
Hats off to the idiot with no licence, insurance and the wrong plates on his vehicle who thought it would be fun to tailgate a police car.
Honorable mention to the guy in the 78' Impala with no brakes, no backseat, and apparently no brains. He was driving backwards up the 401. There’s also the people who actually thought the magical force of gravity would hold their new $1000 fridge on the back of their trailer on the way up to the cottage.
But....My favorite, by far, was the chick the cops pulled over doing 145 kph and the three other vehicles with guys trying to keep up to her in order to make a date.
Drive safe.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Downside up
I know, I know! I’m posting late. Well....it was such a nice day, who can blame me? I’m here now and that’s all that matters.
The world is upside down and gone crazy I tells ya. CRAZY! Teachers are marrying students, Tiger missed the PGA cut for the first time in 7 years, birds are attacking helpless civilians in Texas, and Conservatives are suddenly Liberals. What the fuck is happening? Is the apocalypse at hand? Should we all head for the hills? Even George Lucas’ scripts have become lifeless and wooden.....Whew! Shit!.... I was worried for a minute there.... I guess everything is normal after all.
In fact, I thought I’d start with my review of "Revenge of the Sith," which I happened to see at 12:01 AM Thursday. Really I’m not a geek, but I do take away something from the experience.
Now, I could wallow in the depths of catch phrases like "Visually stunning and stunningly visual," but I won’t. I could simply say, "I liked it," but I didn’t. I could sit here and point out continuity flaws and say that the story had more holes than my lucky Fruit of the Looms, but I’m a bigger man than that.
My review, revolves around the audience behavior that some misguided souls believe is devotion. I would not be among those counted. I think it is important that you prepare yourself if you are contemplating taking in this newest addition to the Star Wars franchise, for they are an unruly bunch. Here is just a sample of what I witnessed.
Jedi’s in attendance...14
Wookies at the confection counter....3
Cell ring tones heard...7, Answered...5
Eyes lost due to audience light sabres.....6
Number of times Storm Troopers kicked the back of my seat.....27
Laughs during intimate dialogue....too many to count.
Full body "William Shatner"-type screams of "NO!!!!!".....only 1 (Thank God)
In conclusion: View this movie at your own risk.
OK...all I’ve heard this week is analysis and folderol concerning this Belinda Stronach defection to the Liberals. How she betrayed not only the Conservatives but her boy friend Peter MaKay in the process. The whys, and the hows, and the wherefores. Well.....I’m going to set the record straight, once and for all as to why, I know, she did it. It all comes down to size, and Paul Martin has a bigger caucus.
A great Canadian died today. He touched millions of lives on all continents and he will be missed. His name was Henry Corden. "SHIT!" you say. You thought it was someone of more notoriety. Of more importance. Someone you've actually heard of, like Wayne Gretzky or Jim Carey or Steve Nash or....Hey Henry Corden, born in Montreal, was a great man and although you may not know him by name, you certainly knew him by voice. He was the voice of Fred Flinstone.
The world is upside down and gone crazy I tells ya. CRAZY! Teachers are marrying students, Tiger missed the PGA cut for the first time in 7 years, birds are attacking helpless civilians in Texas, and Conservatives are suddenly Liberals. What the fuck is happening? Is the apocalypse at hand? Should we all head for the hills? Even George Lucas’ scripts have become lifeless and wooden.....Whew! Shit!.... I was worried for a minute there.... I guess everything is normal after all.
In fact, I thought I’d start with my review of "Revenge of the Sith," which I happened to see at 12:01 AM Thursday. Really I’m not a geek, but I do take away something from the experience.
Now, I could wallow in the depths of catch phrases like "Visually stunning and stunningly visual," but I won’t. I could simply say, "I liked it," but I didn’t. I could sit here and point out continuity flaws and say that the story had more holes than my lucky Fruit of the Looms, but I’m a bigger man than that.
My review, revolves around the audience behavior that some misguided souls believe is devotion. I would not be among those counted. I think it is important that you prepare yourself if you are contemplating taking in this newest addition to the Star Wars franchise, for they are an unruly bunch. Here is just a sample of what I witnessed.
Jedi’s in attendance...14
Wookies at the confection counter....3
Cell ring tones heard...7, Answered...5
Eyes lost due to audience light sabres.....6
Number of times Storm Troopers kicked the back of my seat.....27
Laughs during intimate dialogue....too many to count.
Full body "William Shatner"-type screams of "NO!!!!!".....only 1 (Thank God)
In conclusion: View this movie at your own risk.
OK...all I’ve heard this week is analysis and folderol concerning this Belinda Stronach defection to the Liberals. How she betrayed not only the Conservatives but her boy friend Peter MaKay in the process. The whys, and the hows, and the wherefores. Well.....I’m going to set the record straight, once and for all as to why, I know, she did it. It all comes down to size, and Paul Martin has a bigger caucus.
A great Canadian died today. He touched millions of lives on all continents and he will be missed. His name was Henry Corden. "SHIT!" you say. You thought it was someone of more notoriety. Of more importance. Someone you've actually heard of, like Wayne Gretzky or Jim Carey or Steve Nash or....Hey Henry Corden, born in Montreal, was a great man and although you may not know him by name, you certainly knew him by voice. He was the voice of Fred Flinstone.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Revenge is a dish best served cold
Yeah so....Revenge of the Sith opens this week, coaxing the inner geek within us all out of the lunch room in our ass. Christ almighty I’m even going to the midnight showing just so I can sleep through work the next day and take it to the man. Yuppers, It’s all about the Sith baby. George L must be one happy pappy with the green this piece of celluloid’s going to pull in. So here are a few links that you can peruse at you leisure. The first is a blog that the Mayor posted that I found quite interesting and the second has many avenues to occupy your valuable time, but hey, we'll never learn to appreciate life if we can’t learn to waist it from time to time?
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Mayor gets his 50 grand
No not that Mayor, and no not $50,000. I'm talking about Mosymato Fujitsuwa, the Mayor of Hiromitchieville, a small community off the coast of Japan. The Mayor stated four months ago, if his Blog received 50,000 hits by Friday May 13th, he would allow himself to be kicked in the nuts and post the video proof. True to his word, Mosymato (Mosy to his friends), did just that and here is the golden imagery.
You can come out now
It’s over. That damn superstitious day. What were you thinking? Do you really believe that your life was in jeopardy? That some knife wielding maniac was going to pop out from behind the bushes and make you piss yourself before he ran his cold steel through your intestines? You’re not a very optimistic person are you? Just remember you can’t have manslaughter without laughter.
The horror....the horror
| Where to start? Let’s see...Monday in Chilliwack B.C. Two goat heads were found on a bench outside a high school. Locals feared they were being besieged by a demonic cult and quickly raised the alarm. Turns out, one of the highschool kids who worked at a downtown butcher shop, thought it would be cool to take the goat heads home and mount them on his wall. Halfway to his destination he changed his mind and left the decapitated offerings on the bench in front of the school. He figured the janitor or school cafeteria would find them and dispose of them in a way they saw fit....(look out segue dead ahead!).... Speaking of goat’s head soup, the Rolling Stones announced they would be starting a new tour in September and will probably be kicking it off in Toronto where they will be rehearsing yet again. Every time I start to feel old, I just look at these guys and then I feel an insane urge to go out and buy a Shar Pei. It is rumored that a butt-double was used for Jessica Simpson in the new Dukes of Hazzard movie, because her ass wasn’t round enough....who the fuck cares? Oh...I guess I do. I just wrote about it. Earlier this week a transport trailer carrying beer overturned on the highway here in T.O., in the peek of rush hour, causing traffic chaos, and sending thousands of innocent beers to their death. In fact, 26 skids of the beverage were destroyed in the unfortunate accident. That’s 26,000 cases of beer. Enough to last the average man 84 years of drinkin’, or in other words, beer for everyday of Charlie Watts’ life. (He is that old now isn’t he?) From the department of useless studies, this week they released proof that Gay men’s brains react to smells the same way heterosexual women do. Wow! Who the fuck cares? Oh...I guess I do. I just wrote about it. Finally, I ask you, "Is nothing sacred?" On a week where Monty Python’s theatrical version of "Spamalot" picked up 14 nominations, the Canadian Department of Tourism announced that they were doing away with the tired old images of the 3M’s, (Mounties, mountains and moose), in an effort to entice people north of the 49th parallel. "Too stereotypical," they said, "too demeaning," "too....too Canadian! Damn it!" The images will be replaced in the future by those of igloos, hockey and beer. |
Friday, May 13, 2005
Need I say more?
It’s Friday the 13th, which to me, is just like any other day, unless I find myself surrounded by a mob of slap happy bikers, then all bets are off. Relax this is the only "F" the 13th we have to deal with this year. The next one isn’t until 2006 in January. Personally, I don’t go in for all the mumbo jumbo superstitious rig-a-marole. However, if you find that you’re the type to steer clear of black cats and ladders on days such as this, then perhaps you’d be interested in learning where all that fucked up behavior you exhibit came from. Go here, but do it tomorrow. After all, you might break a nail on the mouse when you click, or be stricken with a computer virus. Then before you know it, you’re getting spamed by adds for penile enlargement, and how to earn University degrees while you sleep.
Sunday, May 08, 2005
The Sunday Ripper
Today is Mother’s Day and traditionally I guess I should post a bunch of mother related stuff, but you know what? I’ve already made the calls, and sent the cards, and extended the heartfelt acknowledgments of love and appreciation, so I’m posting ripped-off stuff dealing with animals instead. Alright! Maybe just one for the mothers. But only one. The pets get the rest of the blog. Don’t blame me, it’s the Doggie Butler’s fault.
Tag! You're it
Are you bored? Don’t know what to do on a lazy dog-danglin’ afternoon? Then perhaps you should get out and do some squirrel chasing.
Doggie style
It's here! The wait is over. Now you can go to this link and play, "Dress your gay dog."
What do you mean, "I'm politically incorrect"? Fine! Go here and warm your kitten then. I don't fuckin' care.
What do you mean, "I'm politically incorrect"? Fine! Go here and warm your kitten then. I don't fuckin' care.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Doggie butler
Yawwwwwn! Oh....goodmorn...afternoon. Hey, did you hear about this guy. He has a PHD or something. You know splits atoms in his sleep, that kind of thing. He gets out of school and...bingo...no work for someone with his education. So he starts this business where, for a weekly fee, he'll come to your house and pick up your dog & cat's shit.
Now before you start laughing, and quoting poetic justice, let me tell you, he has hundreds of clients. Even without the degree I can do the math and realize that for a couple of thou a week, never mind what Rover or Meatball shat in the backyard, I'd come to your house and clean the shit out of your toilet. Proudly I'd state that I was a Waste Retrieval Engineer, and count my dough.
Now before you start laughing, and quoting poetic justice, let me tell you, he has hundreds of clients. Even without the degree I can do the math and realize that for a couple of thou a week, never mind what Rover or Meatball shat in the backyard, I'd come to your house and clean the shit out of your toilet. Proudly I'd state that I was a Waste Retrieval Engineer, and count my dough.
Week
First things, first. I’m tired, so I’m posting this and going back to bed. I’d rather you applaud my dedication to Blogging, than question my ethics, or my disabled elbow, that now throbs from a night of hoisting my chosen poison to cracked lips. So here goes....
The one thing that stood out above all the shite that invaded my aural cavity this week was a robbery and sexual assault at knife point. Now, it wasn’t about the forced sexual act, or the $50 or so that the culprit got away with, it was the fact, that the perpetrator was wearing a grill. Holy jumpin’ Jesus! What is happening with today’s youth. If you need to familiarize yourself with this whole grill thing then go here. Personally I like the first one. Nothing’s scarier than a mouth of teeth bleeding at the gums.
Here’s where I get all "Old man" on your ass.....back in my day, when we wanted to violate a person and steal their money, we wore Nixon masks, and pistol whipped our prey. That made a statement. It let your terrified victim know you meant business. But a grill? Knife or no, It’s funny. A gag gift like a fake cracked window baseball, a fart machine, or inflatable bonking sheep. Now our misguided teens are adorning themselves with these monstrosities faster than infants are falling from high-rise balconies. An idiot, is still an idiot no matter what their teeth look like....did I just swallow the blue pill?
Everything else this week seems non-consequential after that rant, but I’ll give it a shot.
Cher played the last show in her farewell tour. Thank freakin’ God! It only took 3 years, 20,000 costume changes and sex with 897 men, 6 women, 2 ducks, and a lame farm boy. (Her, not me.)
Angelina Jolie threatened to leave the movie biz because she was worried about the negative effect it was having on her son Maddox. Oh really, and the fact that you’re frolicking on a beach, frolic, frolic, I say, with a newly separated, Brad Pitt in front of your son, is just dandy-O?
Another thing I heard this week. Did you know, Paris Hilton loves Paris? Not the city....guess again. Nope. Wrong again, not herself, but that was a good guess. She’s dating some guy name Paris, heir to a Greek shipping fortune, with ships full of Greek fishermen. Greek, Greek, I say.
I’d love to be a fly on the wall in their bedroom.
"Oh Paris...oh Paris!"
"That’s it Paris...just like that you dirty girl."
"Paris my manly stud muffin..."
On second thought, I’ll just wait for the video.
There seems to be a bit of Hoo-ha going on about this up coming release of a movie called "Deadly." (Hoo-ha!) It’s a film about Bernardo and Homolka, staring the chick from "That 70's show." Apparently the lawyers of the victim's families and select members of the media want to view it before it goes out for public consumption. (Hoo-ha!) It doesn’t help matters when Hamolka, herself, gets out of prison sometime in the near future to take up residence in Montreal. (Hoo-ha!)
You know, if they had gone for bigger stars, like Orlando Bloom or Johnny Depp, or Cameron Diaz, you wouldn’t hear quite so much about it. (hoo-ha) Basically this is a Canadian concern and the Americans couldn’t give a rat’s-ass about it when the murder of school girls in the states is more frequent than teens with teeth grills.
I bid you all good night.
The one thing that stood out above all the shite that invaded my aural cavity this week was a robbery and sexual assault at knife point. Now, it wasn’t about the forced sexual act, or the $50 or so that the culprit got away with, it was the fact, that the perpetrator was wearing a grill. Holy jumpin’ Jesus! What is happening with today’s youth. If you need to familiarize yourself with this whole grill thing then go here. Personally I like the first one. Nothing’s scarier than a mouth of teeth bleeding at the gums.
Here’s where I get all "Old man" on your ass.....back in my day, when we wanted to violate a person and steal their money, we wore Nixon masks, and pistol whipped our prey. That made a statement. It let your terrified victim know you meant business. But a grill? Knife or no, It’s funny. A gag gift like a fake cracked window baseball, a fart machine, or inflatable bonking sheep. Now our misguided teens are adorning themselves with these monstrosities faster than infants are falling from high-rise balconies. An idiot, is still an idiot no matter what their teeth look like....did I just swallow the blue pill?
Everything else this week seems non-consequential after that rant, but I’ll give it a shot.
Cher played the last show in her farewell tour. Thank freakin’ God! It only took 3 years, 20,000 costume changes and sex with 897 men, 6 women, 2 ducks, and a lame farm boy. (Her, not me.)
Angelina Jolie threatened to leave the movie biz because she was worried about the negative effect it was having on her son Maddox. Oh really, and the fact that you’re frolicking on a beach, frolic, frolic, I say, with a newly separated, Brad Pitt in front of your son, is just dandy-O?
Another thing I heard this week. Did you know, Paris Hilton loves Paris? Not the city....guess again. Nope. Wrong again, not herself, but that was a good guess. She’s dating some guy name Paris, heir to a Greek shipping fortune, with ships full of Greek fishermen. Greek, Greek, I say.
I’d love to be a fly on the wall in their bedroom.
"Oh Paris...oh Paris!"
"That’s it Paris...just like that you dirty girl."
"Paris my manly stud muffin..."
On second thought, I’ll just wait for the video.
There seems to be a bit of Hoo-ha going on about this up coming release of a movie called "Deadly." (Hoo-ha!) It’s a film about Bernardo and Homolka, staring the chick from "That 70's show." Apparently the lawyers of the victim's families and select members of the media want to view it before it goes out for public consumption. (Hoo-ha!) It doesn’t help matters when Hamolka, herself, gets out of prison sometime in the near future to take up residence in Montreal. (Hoo-ha!)
You know, if they had gone for bigger stars, like Orlando Bloom or Johnny Depp, or Cameron Diaz, you wouldn’t hear quite so much about it. (hoo-ha) Basically this is a Canadian concern and the Americans couldn’t give a rat’s-ass about it when the murder of school girls in the states is more frequent than teens with teeth grills.
I bid you all good night.
Friday, May 06, 2005
There you are you little bugger
Seems all I had to do was post something and, Voila! The Blog came back. Since I've been posting only on the weekends, you can see the bind I was in. Holy shit! Two of my workmen needed medical attention needlessly. Sorry guys. I love Sweden, or what ever Nordic country you hail from.
Polar bear in a snowstorm
Hey! Wha happen? What I really mean is, what the fuck? I'll say it louder for those of you who may not have heard. WHAT THE FUCK!
Seems this week, everytime I tuned into my Bolg I got nothing, zilch, nyet, nada. All I got from the Blog help line was a friendly form letter, telling me to try some links. Meanwhile, I can post and edit, I just can't see what the fuck it looks like. I'm all Ray Charles over here behind my comp console.
It has to be those crazy Swedes who ave been working on my Blog. In fact I've already beat two of the senseless. They haven't confessed, but it's only a matter of time.
For now I guess I'm destined to look at the snow fall on a white sheet of canvass. Ho...fuckin'...hum.
Seems this week, everytime I tuned into my Bolg I got nothing, zilch, nyet, nada. All I got from the Blog help line was a friendly form letter, telling me to try some links. Meanwhile, I can post and edit, I just can't see what the fuck it looks like. I'm all Ray Charles over here behind my comp console.
It has to be those crazy Swedes who ave been working on my Blog. In fact I've already beat two of the senseless. They haven't confessed, but it's only a matter of time.
For now I guess I'm destined to look at the snow fall on a white sheet of canvass. Ho...fuckin'...hum.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
And the new total is....
Before & after
I guess all the work going on around me and my anticipation of what my site will look like when they're finished has led me to today's theme. I would like to explore the age old practice of, before and after. To begin with, I’ve been trying to rewrite my first novel to make it less autobiographical, or in other words, a more enjoyable read. It’s a work in progress but below is an excerpt of the before and after, so you can track the progress.
Before from the center
"Hello Ellis."
"Hello."
"How are you."
"I am fine."
"That’s just swell....hey look over there."
"What?"
"Boo!"
"You scared me you crazy bastard!...I mean dude."
"Hello."
"How are you."
"I am fine."
"That’s just swell....hey look over there."
"What?"
"Boo!"
"You scared me you crazy bastard!...I mean dude."
Excerpt from the Center
There was something about the way I told the story that night. What can I say? It clicked. The unbelievable seemed believable. It was the type of yarn best told around the flickering red and orange ghosts of a camp fire with a lone lit flashlight under one's chin, when the last of the marshmallows have been toasted, and the forest creaks and groans in the deep dark night with the strange foreign tongue of mother nature . The Mrs. Kurtz story contained the fear, shock and sheer horror of the best tales of that ilk, sending a chill coursing through your veins like the cold night air holding up the canvass of pin-holed stars . . . and I had Ellis’s full attention.
This of course included my bit about Mrs. Kurtz and her miles of hoses, wires and catheters sticking out of every orifice in her body.
"What’s a ca-los-to-my bag-- it doesn’t sound to good dude."
"It’s full of human waste Ellis that’s all you need to know and ---they only change it once a week."
"Oh my God!"
"Yeah I know. Sometimes it gets so full It’s like a balloon man," I said, matter of factly in hushed tones.
"And we’re going there?"
"Yes."
"To her house?"
"Well, her daughter’s house, but she’s there in a room just off of the kitchen. Yes."
"Ohh," Ellis replied shuddering.
"That’s OK kid you’ll do just fine and I’ll be right there with you." I patted Ellis on the shoulder as he stared out the front window of the truck. I smiled to myself.
We pulled up to Bonnie Aaronstein’s mansion. It was already late and the sun had packed up and gone home two hours ago. The full length windows, where Bonnie's mother could be found
bed ridden, gave off an eerie soft glow into the court yard below. Remember that famous piece of cinematography from the Exorcist where the light was shining on Father Marin when he arrived. Well it was like that.
The cedars in the court yard and the mighty oaks like sentries surrounding the fortress were conversing in the wind with the rustling leaves chit chatting. A gust of wind would suddenly create an on coming rush like a tide of whispering voices.
Twice I had to bump Ellis with my box as he apprehensively moved toward the house.
I buzzed the intercom and waited for the voice of the Filipino maid.
"Who eeze there?"
"Ultimate Produce, We have a delivery for Connie."
"Take eit to the kitchen." The voice buzzed us in.
The door clicked open and swung slowly inward with an audible creak.We began the laborious task of bringing all eight boxes into the kitchen.
The place was dark, quiet and seemed deserted. If it hadn’t been for the maid on the intercom, I would have sworn it was so. We treaded gingerly down the massive foyer, decorated on either side by paintings incased in elaborate gold frames. Plush velvet curtains were pulled back as the hall ended at a T junction. To the right a library filled from floor to ceiling. To the left our path to the kitchen and by ---the room.
Ellis was marveling at the sheer size of the house as he walked. His head was like a search light wandering back and forth from floor to ceiling. He was creeping along like a kid who has to walk into the haunted house in the neighborhood to pass the initiation into the club house.
After we set the first two boxes down in the expansive eighteen foot catacombs of chrome and steel with intricate moldings inlayed with gold, that made up the food preparation area, we headed back to the truck.
There it was directly ahead of us. Mrs. Kurtz’s room. Ellis stood transfixed unable to look away like a deer caught in the headlights and frozen there until its life is ended in a moment of screeching tires and the indenting kiss of bumper on venison. The machines clicked and beeped as was their purpose and the end of a hospital-like bed could be seen jutting out like an enticing finger in a come hither motion. The trees outside, dancing in the wind cast sinister moving shadows on the walls.
"Come on Ellis." I tapped him on the back as I started for the truck.
"Huh!" He jumped noticeably and finally followed.
On each trip Ellis seemed to pause longer drawn closer to the inevitable as if a black hole existed at the core of the room just beyond the trim of the doorway and sucked his very being into it.
On our last trip, I noticed he wasn’t even in the kitchen with me and turned to see him walking slowly with the box he was carrying into the forbidden room, the moth to the flame.
"Ellis no," I hissed, but he couldn’t hear me. I quickly set the box down and headed briskly for the portal of the bedroom, or as briskly as one could go who feels that he is moving in slow motion.
Ellis was at mid bed with the order still in his hands moving slowly as one passing an accident and unable to keep from rubber necking. The room had that serile hospital smell that invaded the nostrils. Mrs. Kurtz lay there on her back, her eyes glassy, staring at the ceiling. Her mouth was open and moving like that of a fish out of water sucking air.
"Ellis," I hissed again. "Get out of there."
"I had to see for myself," he said turning back to me.
A gaseous sound escaped her body. It sounded like a dying goat somewhere under the covers.
Ellis’s expression changed from one of awe and wonder to sickly disgust. "Ahh Dude that’s just so wrong."
A stern Filipino voice commanded from behind me, "What you do here?!"
Startled, I yelled.
Ellis yelled.
The maid yelled.
Mrs. Kurtz continued to gaze at the ceiling.
Ellis screamed.
Another goat died its slow death under the covers.
Ellis dropped the box he was carrying spilling its contents. An acorn squash rolled under the bed trailed by a fellowship of vegetables.
"I’m sorry," I said to the maid, "but you startled us. My co-worker here," I pointed to Ellis as his ass stuck out from under the bed in a bid to retrieve the fallen food items. "He’s new. He’s never been here before and simply lost his way." I turned my attention briefly to Ellis. "For God's sake man you should be wearing surgical gloves."
"I’m all right," came Ellis’s muffled response, as he slowly pushed two yams out from under the bed, where his legs still wriggled.
"Now that we’re finished our delivery we’ll be going," I told the maid reassuringly.
The maid looked at me disbelievingly with a sour expression still across her face like it had been smacked on.
Ellis apparently triggered something in his struggle from down under. The head of the bed with Mrs. Kurtz in it began to rise.
The maid in sudden shock, lurched forward. "Oh no! The Mrs. Kurtz. She must not move like that!"
Ellis crawled out from underneath and scurried out of the way with the last of the produce as the maid ran to various machines to get the bed to stop its assent.
"Ellis! come on, she’s going to dump truck," I said through clenched teeth. Our window of escape was closing. I motioned with my head to the door.
Ellis scooped the stuff into the box and joined me in my exit as the maid was pushing on the head of the bed with all her weight trying to get it to go down. She clicked furiously with her foot on an automated pedal without any luck.
When we reached the front door, we started to run just as I heard a thud of something hitting the floor and the horrified voice of the maid.
"OH no! The Mrs. Kurtz ---she fall."
"Better than Mrs Kurtz ---she dead," I thought to myself, and somewhere Joseph Conrad was turning in his grave.
This of course included my bit about Mrs. Kurtz and her miles of hoses, wires and catheters sticking out of every orifice in her body.
"What’s a ca-los-to-my bag-- it doesn’t sound to good dude."
"It’s full of human waste Ellis that’s all you need to know and ---they only change it once a week."
"Oh my God!"
"Yeah I know. Sometimes it gets so full It’s like a balloon man," I said, matter of factly in hushed tones.
"And we’re going there?"
"Yes."
"To her house?"
"Well, her daughter’s house, but she’s there in a room just off of the kitchen. Yes."
"Ohh," Ellis replied shuddering.
"That’s OK kid you’ll do just fine and I’ll be right there with you." I patted Ellis on the shoulder as he stared out the front window of the truck. I smiled to myself.
We pulled up to Bonnie Aaronstein’s mansion. It was already late and the sun had packed up and gone home two hours ago. The full length windows, where Bonnie's mother could be found
bed ridden, gave off an eerie soft glow into the court yard below. Remember that famous piece of cinematography from the Exorcist where the light was shining on Father Marin when he arrived. Well it was like that.
The cedars in the court yard and the mighty oaks like sentries surrounding the fortress were conversing in the wind with the rustling leaves chit chatting. A gust of wind would suddenly create an on coming rush like a tide of whispering voices.
Twice I had to bump Ellis with my box as he apprehensively moved toward the house.
I buzzed the intercom and waited for the voice of the Filipino maid.
"Who eeze there?"
"Ultimate Produce, We have a delivery for Connie."
"Take eit to the kitchen." The voice buzzed us in.
The door clicked open and swung slowly inward with an audible creak.We began the laborious task of bringing all eight boxes into the kitchen.
The place was dark, quiet and seemed deserted. If it hadn’t been for the maid on the intercom, I would have sworn it was so. We treaded gingerly down the massive foyer, decorated on either side by paintings incased in elaborate gold frames. Plush velvet curtains were pulled back as the hall ended at a T junction. To the right a library filled from floor to ceiling. To the left our path to the kitchen and by ---the room.
Ellis was marveling at the sheer size of the house as he walked. His head was like a search light wandering back and forth from floor to ceiling. He was creeping along like a kid who has to walk into the haunted house in the neighborhood to pass the initiation into the club house.
After we set the first two boxes down in the expansive eighteen foot catacombs of chrome and steel with intricate moldings inlayed with gold, that made up the food preparation area, we headed back to the truck.
There it was directly ahead of us. Mrs. Kurtz’s room. Ellis stood transfixed unable to look away like a deer caught in the headlights and frozen there until its life is ended in a moment of screeching tires and the indenting kiss of bumper on venison. The machines clicked and beeped as was their purpose and the end of a hospital-like bed could be seen jutting out like an enticing finger in a come hither motion. The trees outside, dancing in the wind cast sinister moving shadows on the walls.
"Come on Ellis." I tapped him on the back as I started for the truck.
"Huh!" He jumped noticeably and finally followed.
On each trip Ellis seemed to pause longer drawn closer to the inevitable as if a black hole existed at the core of the room just beyond the trim of the doorway and sucked his very being into it.
On our last trip, I noticed he wasn’t even in the kitchen with me and turned to see him walking slowly with the box he was carrying into the forbidden room, the moth to the flame.
"Ellis no," I hissed, but he couldn’t hear me. I quickly set the box down and headed briskly for the portal of the bedroom, or as briskly as one could go who feels that he is moving in slow motion.
Ellis was at mid bed with the order still in his hands moving slowly as one passing an accident and unable to keep from rubber necking. The room had that serile hospital smell that invaded the nostrils. Mrs. Kurtz lay there on her back, her eyes glassy, staring at the ceiling. Her mouth was open and moving like that of a fish out of water sucking air.
"Ellis," I hissed again. "Get out of there."
"I had to see for myself," he said turning back to me.
A gaseous sound escaped her body. It sounded like a dying goat somewhere under the covers.
Ellis’s expression changed from one of awe and wonder to sickly disgust. "Ahh Dude that’s just so wrong."
A stern Filipino voice commanded from behind me, "What you do here?!"
Startled, I yelled.
Ellis yelled.
The maid yelled.
Mrs. Kurtz continued to gaze at the ceiling.
Ellis screamed.
Another goat died its slow death under the covers.
Ellis dropped the box he was carrying spilling its contents. An acorn squash rolled under the bed trailed by a fellowship of vegetables.
"I’m sorry," I said to the maid, "but you startled us. My co-worker here," I pointed to Ellis as his ass stuck out from under the bed in a bid to retrieve the fallen food items. "He’s new. He’s never been here before and simply lost his way." I turned my attention briefly to Ellis. "For God's sake man you should be wearing surgical gloves."
"I’m all right," came Ellis’s muffled response, as he slowly pushed two yams out from under the bed, where his legs still wriggled.
"Now that we’re finished our delivery we’ll be going," I told the maid reassuringly.
The maid looked at me disbelievingly with a sour expression still across her face like it had been smacked on.
Ellis apparently triggered something in his struggle from down under. The head of the bed with Mrs. Kurtz in it began to rise.
The maid in sudden shock, lurched forward. "Oh no! The Mrs. Kurtz. She must not move like that!"
Ellis crawled out from underneath and scurried out of the way with the last of the produce as the maid ran to various machines to get the bed to stop its assent.
"Ellis! come on, she’s going to dump truck," I said through clenched teeth. Our window of escape was closing. I motioned with my head to the door.
Ellis scooped the stuff into the box and joined me in my exit as the maid was pushing on the head of the bed with all her weight trying to get it to go down. She clicked furiously with her foot on an automated pedal without any luck.
When we reached the front door, we started to run just as I heard a thud of something hitting the floor and the horrified voice of the maid.
"OH no! The Mrs. Kurtz ---she fall."
"Better than Mrs Kurtz ---she dead," I thought to myself, and somewhere Joseph Conrad was turning in his grave.
There will be no after
It's Sunday Ripper time. I got these pics from my love. She's always sending me stuff even though we see each other everyday, but when I saw these next pics, I had to post them.
I love roller coasters. In fact, a bunch of us traveled habitually to Cedar Point in Sandusky Ohio, annually, to ride the newest contraptions. Then, I saw this year’s offering, the Top Thrill Dragster. God help us all! Canada’s Wonderland rides are a bunch of fags compared to this monstrosity. Even though this construct, from the bowels of Hell, looks like the greatest invention since squeezy cheese, I think I can honestly say, there is no way I would drag my ass within a squirrel’s launch of that thing, thank you very much. I value my intestines and don’t relish the thought of spending an hour and a half, after riding this beast, trying to tuck them back in.
I love roller coasters. In fact, a bunch of us traveled habitually to Cedar Point in Sandusky Ohio, annually, to ride the newest contraptions. Then, I saw this year’s offering, the Top Thrill Dragster. God help us all! Canada’s Wonderland rides are a bunch of fags compared to this monstrosity. Even though this construct, from the bowels of Hell, looks like the greatest invention since squeezy cheese, I think I can honestly say, there is no way I would drag my ass within a squirrel’s launch of that thing, thank you very much. I value my intestines and don’t relish the thought of spending an hour and a half, after riding this beast, trying to tuck them back in.
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