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.

Mick Jagger?... 

...or Mick Jagger? 

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.

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.

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.

Pet carrier for cheap assholes 

More proof that dogs are gay 

Heeed! Bath! Now! 

Mousing impossible 

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.

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.

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.

And the new total is....

247 hits! That's quite an improvement over yeaterdays measly six hits. There's still time left to get your pledges in. Perhaps this link will spur you on and allow you to dream of what could be when the Mayor reaches his target.

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.

Center of the Universe 

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."

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.

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.

Holy fuuuuuuuck! 

I spilled my drink.....really. 

Just like a ripe watermelon ready to bust itself open 

Yeah, but are they actually singing? 

A weak week

You know when the best news that you can come up with is that your friend Dickie Sanchez is turning forty this week you’re in trouble. But that’s all I got people. Oh, there are a few other incidents that rate mention such as: You know Benifer, and Bradjolina, now meet Tomatie, as in Tom Cruise is now dating Katie Holmes (Yawn). You know what? Fuck the link.

Dateline- South-west Bumfuck: There was a guy this week, who went to a Burger King drive thru to get some fries. When informed that BK had run out, the guy went ballistic and tried to run down several employees as they exited the building. The police were called and the yokel was taken into custody, but not before he kicked out the back window of the cruiser.

He’s been charged, fined, and is spending a pleasant 45 days in jail for his conduct. All over frickin’ french fries. Good thing they didn’t tell him they’d also run out of ketchup.

Dateline- Hamburg, Germany: Toads are mysteriously exploding . The carnage is somewhat akin to a John Carpenter film. There are guts everywhere, in the parks, in the streets, even on the Straussengarterdenflinglingenstrussen. It's bad. Go here if you think I'm on acid.

Dateline- North-east Bumfuck: A survey released this week stated that couch-potatoes who watch their favorite players in things such as golf, or basketball, can learn to implement some of their heros moves just by viewing. I find it hard to believe, that 250 lb Bubba, with cheese and gravy stains on his wife-beater, would be able to make that last minute jump-shot from outside the line. But who am I to judge? Hey, I wonder if they conducted the same experiment while watching porn? Perhaps I can learn to cum like Peter North?

Dateline- Some freaky-deeky Dutch country: Probably the same scientists from the TV thing, released a study that found sperm was mutating and becoming ineffective at regenerating the female of the species. This was concluded, given the record number of boys now being born. Since there are currently 33 million more women on this planet I’d say I’m good. Not that I have to worry anyway. I’ve been seedless with 2% less pulp for 3 years now.

Dateline- Los Angeles: Is it just me, or does Debbie Rowe look alot like Ian Faith, the manager of Spinal Tap?

People sell the darndest things

This all started with the announcement that those crazy, bad-toothed Brits were going to show all six Star Wars movies back to back. What is this a Lord of the Rings fest? Even the running time of all six in a row can’t top the director’s cuts of the three LOTR films. Then I heard about this convention in Indianapolis or Indiana or Cleveland. You know some place you’d only stop in if you had your tires shot out from under you. All the hub-bub was over George Lucas actually showing up for the first time in 20 years to promote Episode III.

So I wondered what other kooky stuff those Star Wars fanatics were up to and I came across this ebay item. Strange as that may seem I don’t believe it leads the parade of insanity in the sellers market place. Just check out this other crap.

Let me know which item you take with you to a deserted island...if you had to choose one.
1)

2)

3)

4)

Feeling gamey?

I suppose you’re getting used to me putting some mindless game up on saturdays just so you can sit in the comfort of your computer and say, "That was mindless." Well, you need to get out and get some exercise. You can still do this and play the game at the same time. Here the link will explain. It’s called the Walmart game.

Life is animation

In honor of the new Family Guy episodes that air tomorrow night, I thought I’d grace the Blogger with a little animation. It’s another composition by that guy, that did those things. You remember, he made you laugh like hell, you might have even pissed yourself...just a little. Yeah!
That guy. I knew you'd recall. Say, did you ever get the stain out?

http://gorillamask.net/lamour.shtml

Drumroll please....

Six hits! That’s it! You cheap bastards. Come on, a man’s scrotum is on the line here. You have to do better. Click that link! Send the Mayor your love. In the meantime, issues 5 & 6 of the coloring book are now out. If you haven’t gone to take a look, I strongly suggest you go now....after you pledge!

Pledge drive on target

The Mitchieville pledge drive to accumulate the hits needed, to get the Mayor a Doc Martin in the Johnson, is heating up. Everyone is helping out including the Mayor’s opponent in the mayoral campaign, Jerry Casby. When reached for comment Casby stated, "He’s kicking my balls at the polls so I might as well return the favor. That mother f**ker!" He promptly devoted a staff of two, to continuously surf the Mitchieville Blog and pad the numbers.

The campaign for re-election is reaching the critical stages and has left the Mayor haggard. Even little Hannah Taylor, spokes person for the Lady Bug Foundation for the Homeless has promised her support as she mistakenly took the Mayor for a homeless guy.
The phone lines are now open and Jerry Lewis has graciously stepped in to host this weekend’s festivities. Together we can make this happen. How often do you get to kick a politician in the nuts? Remember, Every time the Mayor gets a hit, an angel gets his wings.

Gong!

Today I’m going to have a theme. Music. Everyone likes music. Whether it’s the sweetest staccato of D’vorak’s New World Symphony, the snapping crunch of Chuck Norris breaking femurs or the Cha-ching! of the Vegas slots, music is in you, one way or another. I saw this next link and although it is artistic, it made me wonder, how it was, that I never made it in the business?

Fore play

Fuck those assholes! Fuck em' all and fuck the napkin! You can learn to play an instrument and step on everyone's dick. Why should the no talent apes of the music world get all the glory? You deserve a slice of their pie.

But you say, "I don't know how to play." I'm going to teach you. It's easy. My Grandfather could do it, and he can't even piss into the bowl. Go here, pick your song, and learn where the notes are on your chosen instrument. Don't come back here until you do.

What did he say?

Even if you can't sing, you'll need to know the proper words to the songs you want to sing. First, go here and find out what the wrong lyrics are, and then go here and get the correct ones. Hurry! While the others are still on the last Blog. I'll wait here. You! Fenris! Stop waisting time boy, and go to the link!

Music to my ears.

Ok, I'm assuming, you know your instrument, you can mumble the correct lyrics, and you have the passion, the fire, the drive to suceed. You'll need a band. Go here and get one. I stole this from the Mayor. Shush! Don't tell him. He's been looking for it, for weeks.

Canadian Idol, here I come!

The Sunday Ripper is also music related Ladies and Gents. I yanked it from the Mayor ,who yanked it from Ebaums, who told two friends, and so on, and so on, and so on.

I thought it would be fitting as there are thousands of young wannabes with their 25% undeveloped brain mass, camping out in the rain, and cold, and drizzle this weekend. For what? A chance to sneeze and cough in front of a panel of Canadian Idol hack judges. I know three of them so I can say "hack".

I feel, after the exposure to the elements, the best any of these brave, (but stupid), souls will be able to muster is all documented here.

That week feeling

Alright, unless you live under a rock, a lot of this will be terribly redundant. Yeah, yeah, a new Pope. Joe the Rat, (do you really need a link?) Quick decision too. 1) So the Catholic priests could resume their habitual buggery and 2) because miniature, state of the art, listening devices had been inserted into the arseholes of mice in order to infiltrate the Conclave.

M.J.’s trial continues, (do you really need a link?)

A massive wave hit a Norwegian cruise liner putting it out of commission. Hey, I heard some of the comments made by a few of the pissed off New Yorkers who were on board, and let me tell you, that wave had to be an act of God.

Our Canadian Prime Minister, (Paul Martin), groveled on national television this week, hoping to delay an election. He was followed by the leaders of the opposition, Steven Harper and the French guy, Gilles Whatshisfuck. I was about to turn the three stooges off when , lo and behold Shemp, (Jack Layton of the NDP), had his say too. Talk about jumping the shark. For those of you who missed what was said, I'll give you a sample. "Why I otta!" "Woop,woop,woop woop....gnang, gnang!" "Oh wise guy!" "Knuck, knuck, knuck." "Moe, Larry, cheese!"

Someone in the states won 205 million dollars. Trust me, this time next year, that person will be back to living in a trailer on welfare....well....until a tornado obliterates it.

What else happened this week? Let’s see....(flip..flip), Phyllis Diller fell out of bed and broke a hip....(flip...flip), Buddy Ebson, (Maaaattlock!), turned, like a hundred and frickin’ thirty years old....it was Earth day Friday....(flip...flip...ho hum), QB Alex Smith was taken 1st overall by San Fran in the NFL draft...there was something about a lawsuit over a finger found in Wendys chili. (I just thought it was extra meaty.)....Oh and two hundred and fifty years ago Samuel Johnson published the first dic-tion-ary >noun- a book that lists the words of a language and gives their meaning. Now, that's some real news people!

If you ask me, this week sounds too much like some bad B movie. Don’t believe me? Read on.

The Popeseideon Adventure II (the spawning)

The new Pope, (Buddy Ebson), is celebrating Earth Day by taking a cruise on the S.S. Samuel Johnson, where an elaborate plot is in effect to murder the new Catholic leader and steal 205 million dollars that is stowed on board. When a human finger is found in the Pontiff’s chili it becomes clear that foul play is afoot. There is only one man who can help, 1st round draft pick, Alex Smith, (himself). An impassioned plea is made by the Canadian Prime Minister, (Phyllis Diller), and the leaders of the opposition, to the young quarterback. But first he must escape the clutches of his captives at Never-land Ranch and time is running out, not only for the Pope, but for the cruise liner, as a killer wave is headed straight for the vessel and all aboard.

(Running time 127 mins.)
Alliance Atlantis
also staring: George Kennedy (back from the grave), Jennifer Lopez, L.L. Cool J, Jason Alexander

What's black and white and read all over?

So this week went ok. Your boss was pleasant to you because his accountants told him of a new loop hole that will save him millions. You didn’t kill anyone in a fit of rageahol on the drive home. The next door neighbors dog didn’t shit on your lawn, and if he did, at least you didn’t step in it this time. Yup! Life this week was pretty sweet and now it’s the weekend. Time to kick back and relax with some well deserved R&R. Just let your mind numb, until the work machine cranks up once again Monday morning. I have just the thoughtless, systemic brain death you need right here. You’ll wonder why you just wasted five minutes of your life playing it.

What’s an eight letter word for incarcerate?

Is it just me, or am I glad I don’t live near a U.S. correctional facility? I found this news article a little disturbing as should you, especially if you live in Cali-forn-I-A. "Say, could you guys riot quietly while I finish my word jumble? Ah-ha! There it is! E-L-F."

Computer magic

I just got back from Mitchieville. I needed to pick up some hookers, and blow, you know, that sort of thing. While I was there I decided to stop by the Mayor’s office and watch him masterfully manipulate his new computer. After all, I am the campaign manager. I was envious.
This newest contraption is state of the art with all the bells and whistles. I would even go as far as to say it was "scrumpdillyicious." I found myself muttering under my breath, "That lucky bastard," more than once. He should have no problems Blogging to the Mitchieville faithful now.

The Mayor graciously allowed me to video tape his new electronic gizmo, with it’s futuristic trackball keyboard, as he telepathically transmitted his Blogs through musical tones. It was a sight to behold, and you can witness this blessed event too, right here. Makes me wonder what the good people at Atari will come up with next.

Cock is it.

Welcome to the Sunday Ripper. I found this next pic intriguing. I stumbled across it when I was tooling around ebaums world. What do you think Coke is trying to say with this ad? Hmm I wonder.

Subliminal messages 

The week that was

I'd like to happily announce that I am pregnant with Kevin Federline's baby.

God damn it! It’s been a week and a half and all the workmen have done is change the nav bar. It's not that I don't like the new tan look, it's very summery, but it's taking too long to get the work done. Oh, they said something about hitting the wrong wire and a memory dump and that’s why they're still working away. I’m not sure I believe them. Just between you and I, I'm frustrated, I mean I've seen enough butt cracks this week, I could put Polyfiller out of business. And I'm missing all the juicy news, since I’ve gone a blogging on the weekends.

So much seems to happen through the week. For instance, I went to sleep last Sunday in Toronto and woke up in Detroit, or at least that’s how it seems with all the shootings we’ve had. The most notable was hate monger Wolfgang Droege the notorious one-time leader of the racist Heritage Front who was gunned down in a fit of well– hatred. A can’t help thinking of this as an oxymoron of some sort, like military intelligence, or jumbo shrimp.

I heard that there’s an outside chance that the next Pope might be Canadian. Yeah right, and Colorado might have a ton of snow. Wait a moment...let’s all go to Sexscenes and taunt her. Everybody together now. Let's hear your best Nelson, "Ha, ha." (She can thank me later. I'm always looking to give a shout out to a fellow author, especially one as gifted as her.) But I digress, a Canadian Pope? Who woulda thought? With further anaysis it makes sense. We are used to following hugely successful individuals and not living up to expectations. Our whole society is built on mediocrity. However, I doubt that he will be picked, after all, at age 60 he’s considered as too young and he also tested positive for steroids.

Toronto welcomed back Carter. Vince Carter, that is, former Raptor now a New Jersey Net. He was smoothered in a chorus of boos but managed to trounce our ass any way, (See! Mediocrity). I say who the fuck cares? It's basketball. I stopped caring when the game was invented.

Finally, A 33 year old man was arrested for trying to solicit sex from a twelve year old he met in a chat room. He actually rented a car and drove from T.O. to Virginia where he was spotted by the girl's mother lurking in the bushes.

Can you believe it? What a knob. Everyone knows if you want to have sex with a twelve year old, you have to go further south. Kentucky or Alabama I’m thinkin’. (Oh I'm going to hear about this.)

Hell hath no fury like a Mayor scorned

I just got back from Mitchieville. I needed to pick up some milk, some bread, some porn, you know, that sort of thing. While I was there I decided to stop by the Mayor’s office and read the daily Blog. After all, I am the campaign manager. I was shocked. My anticipated daily laugh was gunned down like a drive-by shooting, and I left upset in a pool of my own tears.

Ok, that’s a little extreme, but I was disturbed. I haven’t even watched my porn yet and it’s approaching noon. I think someone pissed in the Mayor's Lucky Charms, because he seemed rather fraught over a few issues Friday, that have left him anything but magically delicious.

Some would say, it has been a long, tough campaign and it's taking its toll. Personally, I think the computer problems that he has been having of late, set him off. So I thought I would dedicate this post to trying to cheer him up. Turn that frown, upside down.

I know he’s looking into getting a new computer and when he does he will need cool desktop. This next site, should give him some funky ideas. It’s not actually a site about computers and truly I’m just using the Mayor as a segue to post it, but take a look, it’s pretty cool. It’s all screens that people have put together to fuck you up. So get fucked up.

Secondly I know how the Mayor loves a good chick fight. To that end, he would be happy to know, they are Mitchivillians fighting over the point system, on his woman to woman challenge, for his one word title contest. It has been running all week and the competition is fierce.

Last but not least, we need to start a pledge drive to get the Mayor the hits he needs. Because as much as I love that desirable shinny head of his, I still want to see him kicked in the nutz. Confess! Deep down inside you do too.

Here’s what I propose. We all make a concerted effort to visit his blog, four or five times a day. It doesn’t matter if you’ve already read his wonderfully twisted views, (Fridays comments excluded). Think of it as a station in between where you are and where you want to go on the net. In fact, why don't you put a link on all your out going emails. Let’s pull together and make this happen. Really it’s funny to watch someone piss blood. His honorable Mayor would be the first person to agree. See. If you click on every link in this post you will have givin the Mayor four hits each, bringing a little sunshine to his otherwise dour puss.

Bad week at work #3

You again! You’re making this a habit aren’t you? Well I have just the thing for you my pet. Warning! It’s still in the testing phase and not ready yet for the overbearing bosses of the world, but one day, who knows. At the moment, you can go and see the squirrel launcher, and dare to dream of the bigger picture.

All you need are crayons

Did you have a coloring book when you were little? Of course you did, ya big galoot. We all did. But we never had coloring books like the one on this link which in my estimation is absolutely hilarious. Start with collection #1 and go from there. My favorite is, "Paying was easy. Picking which whore would die was hard." Go, look at it now. Quick, before I change my mind!

The Sunday ripper

I know the Mayor has been hard at work, trying to knock a little nutritional sense into his adoring public. Christ, he’s been like Martha frickin' Stewart minus the orange jump suit, yet, he’s forgetting one important aspect of food preparation, that he has not covered. The outdoor grill.

Look outside people! The weather is finally getting better. (I can picture someone in the Carribean reading this and wondering what the fuck I’m talking about.) I live in Canada! Sub-zero is considered beaching weather here buddy! Spring has sprung people! Rejoice, and fire up the B.B.Q.

Now, the Mayor could tell you how to do that, I have absolutely no idea. However, I do know that when I’m in God’s good graces, and find myself at such a wondrous event, I hope they are serving beer can chicken. Yum! Chicken with a beer crammed up it’s arsehole. As Marlon Brando said in Last Tango in Paris, "Get the butter."

I don’t know where I snagged the picture from but I have to give someone credit so I’ll just say...."I stole this from a hockey card...I kept tucked up under my fifty mission cap."

What are ya....chicken? 

EI, EI, Oh!

Employment insurance, I pay it like so many others, so that if a time comes where I actually need it, the money’s there. But let me tell you boys and girls, while you’re on it, don’t try to do anything to better yourself like take a course, or get some schooling. They will cut you off without blinking an eye and toss your penis right out the window.

Now ultimately it’s my own fault. I fill out my forms on line where I have to answer a bunch of asinine questions every two weeks. Questions like, "Have you moved or changed banking information?" (Like I have the money to fuckin move.) When the usual question about school and courses came up, I replied yes. I should have just lied and said, "No I didn’t go to school." but I’m a law abiding citizen and want to be on the up and up. In response to my honesty, they suspended my benefits pending review.

I’m a family man with bills to pay and geewiz, I kind-of need that money, which is essentially my money to begin with since I’ve been paying into UI for a bazillion years.

Lesson learned? The government wants you to lie to them. They crave it like a junkie looking for their next fix. After all, isn’t this the same government that is allowed to put their greedy little hands in our pockets time after time? Who pick their own salary and periodically give themselves raises? Who get exemptions and right-offs up the wahzoo? Who spy on my girl when she’s in the shower? (Ok I admit that was me.) And then there’s the big fat pension at the end of it all. Yet, here I am going back to school for a week, that will not only allow me to return to work sooner, but make a few extra bucks in the process. I might even better myself and they run around like a bunch of wailing mourners screaming foul.

You know what? Next time I’m just going to sit on my ass and do nothing and collect my little cheques. Evidently that’s the way they want it.

With this Blog, I do thee wed.

So much happened this week . Where was I. Oh yeah, listening to the hammering and the pounding of renovations in full swing. HEY! Keep it down! Can’t you see I’m trying to Blog here. Damn workmen. They have no respect for anyone but the Blogger is looking pretty good.

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes the week that was. Baseball started up again. Who the f’guck cares? Our team sucks. A new dome full of gizmos, Trailer Park Boys, and national anthems performed by Slash, isn't going to change that.

Some guy in a pointy hat had a funeral yesterday. Relax! I knew it was the Pope, and let me say Greenwich Village will sorely miss that lovable lug. Michael Jackson did not attend the funeral. I find that odd, since this week he was accused of behaving like a Catholic priest.

Canada dominated on the world stage in sport, if you consider curling and women’s hockey sports? Hurry, hard! (Applies to both activities.)

I guess from what I’m hearing the Liberal government has been fucking the tax payers in the ass again. (And I thought it was only hemorrhoids.) Seriously, has there ever been a politician who didn’t come away looking like a crooked fuck in a big bag of shit. I know what I’m going to do. I’m masturbating into my tax return. I say it’s about time they got a little jiz back.

Apparently road crews were kicking some serious asphalt, repairing potholes, just not the ones I drove over. Although, I know they were out there, at least I sat in traffic like they were.

Star Wars III already has an audience. They’re the idiots who are camping out in front of theatres with the release date a mere six weeks away. What, did McDonalds and Walmart stop hiring?

Auditions were held Thursday for the theatrical presentation of Lord of the Rings which opens next May in Toronto. The news station I heard relayed, that the producers of the show were holding an open casting call for all Hobbits, Elves and Fairies. Fairies? Really? Fuck me! Someone better read Tolkien to these morons soon.

There is going to be a transit strike on Monday. I know this because there is quite a lot of finger pointing, and screaming going on. Geesh! I'm glad I live near Mitchieville, where there are never strikes of any kind, the streets are paved in gold, chocolate is abundant, prostitutes pay you for sex, and we actually get to kick our Mayor in the balls.

Finally, I heard something about Prince Charles marrying a horse. Is that true?

It's a Mr. Death or something. He's come about the reaping.

Death isn’t funny, unless you have a sense of humor. Ok maybe a sick twisted sense of humor. This next link made me howl. With the Pope and T. Shiavo passing on, as it were, I feel it’s important that we learn to deal with death, especially when we have to convey someone’s demise to children. What are you still doing here? Don’t listen to me babble, go check the site out.

Batter up

Bad week at work again? You’re making this a habit aren’t ya? I have just the cure. Go here and release a little aggression.

Please stand by

I will be closed for renovations for the next week or so. I’m having some work done on this baby, and the workmen should be here, bright eyed and bushy tailed , first thing tomorrow morning. I’m getting a Blog facelift. Why shouldn’t I be more like my Hollywood idols?

While this is happening I will continue to post on weekends. So just like the damn networks moving your favorite shows around, rip off Wednesdays will be moved to Sunday and will now be called the Sunday Ripper. The Blog will appear at 7:00 PM EST, 8:00 Central, and 6:30 for those of you in Newfoundland. I don’t know why I wrote that, I don’t know anyone who lives on the rock..

Thank God its over

No, not the Pope dying, the Blog Arena of Death. The Blog wars have finally ended after two excruciating months. Bluebewy that little fireball of twitching clitorises, have been crowned king...er queen. They defeated all completion, including Pearzild87 yesterday by the score of 4-3, to win this years worst Blog Trophy.

Besides being labeled as worst Blog, Bluebewy also receives, a years subscription to this site where a real man’s game is played, and coupons for McDonalds, ( must see local restaurant for details).

As I stated before, I know that Bluebewy wasn’t the worst Blog by a longshot. That there are others out there far worse, leaping past the boundaries of poor taste. I mean just look at this and tell me what I post is fallacious.

Regurgitated sport

Forget the Blog Arena of Death, it was just as its acronym described, BAD. There’s a much better game in town. A game wher drinking and sport meet in a glorious union of completion and puking. (How ingenious) I’m talking about Beer Pong. The rules of which can be viewed here. I say we form teams and start a league...Who’s with me!

The day after, the night before

Although yesterday was the 1st of the month, I decided to hold off for a day before I posted my shameless self promotion, yesterday being April Fools and all. Besides, I had already submitted 5 Blogs and some of you were probably wondering if I might have been in to that second pot of coffee.

Today there is just the one Blog. The one that expresses the only other self love I can display without touching my crank. I present to you an except from my second novel The Limits of Respectability.


I looked around. Thumper, Wally and Doc all had their equipment packed up and piled neatly by the door waiting to be loaded, but the guys were nowhere to be seen. I rushed over to Wires.
"Where is everyone?"
Wires took a long pull on his cigarette, "Don’t know. They asked me how long we’d be. I told them about two and a half, and they said they were going out for a while. They’ll be back when..." He stretched out his hand toward the rest of the gear still in a state of disarray like he was showing us a new car.
"They didn’t say anything about a party?"
"No."
"Was anyone else with them?"
"Tall guy with a mullet."
"Oh that’s just frickin’ marvelous! Shit, shit, shit! They're so going to get their asses kicked." I turned back to the girl. "You have to take me to this party."
"Why what’s wrong? Don’t you want to be alone with me?"
"Can you take me there or not?"
"Yes."
"Sparky, take Bronson with you."
"Wires you need him here with you."
"No one goes anywhere alone. Remember?"
"I’m not. I have . . . what was your name again?"
"Lexie."
"I have Lexie with me."
"No offence Sparky, she’s not band. Take Bronson. I’ll be all right. I can do the rest myself."
"Fine mother!— OK mumbles let’s go."
Bronson put down the coil of extension cord he was wrapping and joined me. He had hardly said anything to anyone this week except maybe Wires. I didn’t see how taking this scrawny kid with me would help a potentially explosive situation. I needed to warn the guys and hopefully just get them to leave the party quietly, unnoticed.
"Wires better try to speed up your schedule for leaving. We may have to get out of here quick."
Wires looked at me as if to say, "Well, duh," then he went back to work with his cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
We walked briskly beside Lexie, as our guide led us down one of the streets adjacent to the club. I was still sick and the quick steps were agonizing. My bowels were in knots but I
clenched my butt cheeks together to prolong the inevitable.
"It’s there," she said, "See. At the end of the street." There was a house blazing with light and an obvious din was reaching us in scraps of conversation as we approached. The lawn was littered with pickup trucks and a scattering of beer bottle sentries. A few of the party goers sat on a swinging love seat on the front porch smoking nature’s finest, thick and aromatic.
"Bronson, take Lexie and try to find the guys. Tell them everything’s packed up and we’re ready to leave . . . and stay calm."
"You mean unlike you. Where are you going?" Lexie asked.
"I have to find a bathroom quick."
"Up the stairs to the left. Last door on the right."
I left them and raced up the stairs. I found the bathroom, but I also found a line five deep.
"Is there another bathroom in the house?"
A guy holding down the fifth spot turned to me, "In the basement dude, but I don’t think it works."
"Thanks." I ran down the stairs and then another set into the basement. I passed by several doors with people lounging, drinking, making out and listening to music. I searched frantically, trying to keep the torpedo door closed.
"The enemy is in sight Captain ready to fire."
"Steady. Steady."
I found the bathroom. It wasn’t working. Not only was the guy right, there wasn’t even a toilet there, just a hole in the floor where a black pipe jutted out awaiting the arrival of its porcelain buddy.
"Captain the enemy’s closing fast!"
"Steady. Steady."
It’s funny how my dire need to warn my fellow band mates had been pushed to the back burner by one of life’s most basic functions, the excretion of waste. They could be up there somewhere lying in a bloody pummeled mess, being tortured with hot pokers to the eyes and I couldn’t care less. I had to find a place to relieve myself.
"OK lads prepare to fire."
"But Captain the torpedo doors are still closed."
"Get them open damn it, quick! Fire!"
...And fire I did right into the litter box I found there under the sink. I grabbed a brush from the medicine cabinet and started flicking kitty litter over my mess to try to hide it. I finished just as someone pushed their way into the bathroom.
"The toilet’s out, buddy. Just the sink’s working," I said as I washed my hands and dried them on a small towel.
"Oh, Thanks." He was about to leave when he noticed the cat box. "Holy fuck! Bruiser’s cat must be huge!"
"Yeah I know. Can you believe that shit," I said as I pressed by him and back up the stairs. I could hear him faintly behind me, "Here kitty, kitty."

The work week magnified

Hate your job? Feeling pissed off? It’s been a long hard week at work hasn’t it? Now your ass feels like you’ve spent time in a prison shower. Patience my pet. The weekend is upon us and it’s time to release that pent up aggression. Just-so-happens, I have the perfect game for you to feel in control of you life again. At the same time you can get back at those corporate whores that sign the paychecks. Go here.

Your slip is showing

Don’t know what prank to play on your fellow workers today? Perhaps I can help you out. Go here and see if this interests you.

B.A.D. Final this weekend

Tired of Waiting for the milk to curdle? Like watching paint dry? Forget all that. Watch the Blog Arena of Death this weekend on ESPN4. A new champ will be crowned and an exciting playoff will culminate in a climactic battle between two titans of the Blog community. Will it be the seemingly unstoppable ball of prepubescent estrogen Bluebewy? Or will it be the Cinderella story that is Pearlzild87?

This one’s even too close to call for the Las Vegas bookies. Dickie the Greek has tossed his hands up in anguish. It could come down to vowels and consonants and a hell of a lot of mudslinging. Flip a coin people this could be a long game. On second thought, I think I’ll watch the paint dry.

If you haven’t figured it out by now...there is no such thing as the Blog Arena of Death and perhaps you should just read on.

Isn't that just grand son

Ok, this has to be a joke, or else the little bastard is just too lazy to go out and find a real job. Go check it out, but hurry, bidding ends soon.

Hey, maybe he's on to something? Attention: One penis for sale. Used, but in excellent condition. Serious female bids only. Winner pays shipping.

Which leads me to the final Blog for today.....

Hoaxes pocus

Ah, April 1st. A day of mindless pranks and hoaxes. A day where you can point at others humiliation, and laugh aloud, "April Fools". A day when you can set fire to your neighbor’s annoying dog that won’t stop barking at three in the bleedin’ AM....sorry that was another day.

I thought I’d post a site for your perusal, that shows the various pranks played through the ages. Mmm... there’s some good readin’.

"Hey, the Pope just died! April Fools."

The Cat in the Hatch

I warned you, one day, I was going to post something about cats. Today, my fellow Bloggies, is that day. It’s not that I hate cats, I’m actually quite fond of the hair-ball regurgitating fuckers. I even have a member of the feline family in the house. I enjoy cleaning the litter box and then feeding him so he can shit some more. But as you’ve seen this week I am not without a sick sense of humor as well. If you haven’t seen the video on this link then check it out.

Before you start tossing insults my way, remember . It’s only CGI people.

Haloleon Dynamite

In the spirit of Rip-off Wednesday, I’m going to do what I’ve done, oh so many times before, take from The Mayor of Mitchieville, like I was the Robin Hood of Blogging.

The Mayor had a post a while back that made me roar. Hey the Mayor is a funny guy. I can name two separate occasions when he actually made me laugh. (Alright three times.) Any-hoo, he posted a bit on Real life vs The Internet done by Halo.


Also in homage to yesterdays Napoleon Dynamite Soundboard, and the above comment, I am posting this as a bastard offspring of the two. Check it out and let the Mayor know what you thought.

Politically....um...er...hmm

Last week I posted my thoughts/well not really, on the Schiavo debacle/right to die. As was evident from my Blog/non-Blog, I’m a fence sitter, neither opposing/for, or for/opposing someone’s right to die/live.

I think, this is all because, when I have to maneuver through the war-zone of political correctness, I don’t/do, want to offend anyone/everyone, with what I have to say, be they male/female, vertically challenged/shrimps, big boned/eat way too much, mentally disabled/retarded (just fuckin’ say it!). The list goes on.

Today I will try to come off my perch of observation and dip my toe into the waters of outrage/humor with this link, in the effort to be comedic/an ultimate asshole with poor taste.

Can I use you guyzes soundboard?

Today I am posting a soundboard. My first one. This is not an effort to do something unique. There are a plethora of soundboards like it in every spun nook and cranny of the wed. Nor is this an attempt to ride off the wave, from the ship that pulled out of harbor long ago. Basically I’m just a lazy ass Son of a bitch, and this post saves my brain the energy of coming up with something on my own. (Can you smell the rubber burning?)

So get ready for yet another, Napoleon Dynamite Soundboard. Use it wisely on those really sweet jumps.

Monday morning musing

I admit it . It was a dumb idea to do this Blog Arena of Death thing. I mean, you know there are enough bad Blogs out there without me shining the beacon of humiliation on them.

I have become bored with the whole idea of the worst against the worst. The truth is, what I picked out on my surfing travels, is probably not the bottom of the shit pit. In fact, I know it isn't. (that's a sad statement.) It was a weak attempt to fill the pages on days when I could think of nothing else to write. However, now I find there are plenty of other tid-bits to talk about, and I really don’t need this little exercise of Blogs pitted against one another in a hopeless display of futility.

That said, I am going to see this through to the end. A penance if you will. I guess, I’m like that devout religious fanatic who flogs themselves then thanks Jesus for the scars. So with a brave face I announce to you, Blewbewy and Pearlzild87 will face off in the Blog final. Ho hum. Now I’m off to a source of greater pleasure....Can I interest anyone in a little foot worship?

Cereal killer

Tired of never having enough milk for the cereal you eat in the morning? Or maybe that banana muffin is stale? Perhaps the coffee is just too bitter? Now you can get your revenge. Go here.

Sign me up

Before I take off to my cottage in Hudson’s Bay this long weekend, I thought I’d leave you with this brief Easter message.

Hard as a rock

Welcome to Rip-off Wednesday. The day where I post interesting pictures or articles obtained from others. The one day where I get to be a scavenger of the Blog community.

It has long been thought that we were visited by a superior race long ago. That they have left there mark in the Pyramids, or with the Incas, or the Stonehenge pocket watch. Some even feel that they are here among us as witnessed in the crop circles, Dick Clark’s longevity, or Donald Trump’s hair. Now archaeologists have uncovered proof that a more advanced race of super beings were here once. But I caution you to watch out for the anal probe.

Walk softly and carry a big dick 

Here today gone tomor...no wait a minute.

All this press over Terri Schiavo is making me ill. It’s not that I am in favour of either position. I don’t know her or the Schiavo family, so who am I to decide what should be done? That said I still can’t believe the number of people with their fingers in that life-death pie.

If you are a fence-sitter like me and need to witness both sides of the coin, here are a couple of places you can go to show your allegiance one way or the other. For or against pulling the tube.

Or you can go here and try to forget the whole dang thang.

The long and winding blog

I’m a little crusty-eyed after all the games in The Blog Arena of Death Sunday. I sat in great anticipation as the day began. I even put on my new Jetsgo flight attendent uniform that I got for a bargain on ebay. Sitting with a big bucket of munchies and beers as history played out in front of me, I watched as Blewbewy cut through Westernkyteenveg like a hot knife through butter. I saw the relentless onslaught of Pearlzid87 who brought along an interpreter to solve the enigma of their opponent. They not only unexpectedly beat Botalabasura, but devoured them. Then there was the little-too-late rally of Simonecreativ who tried valiantly but were over matched by Exoticwaverley.

However, the final game between the defending champ Dazzlingprincess and the challenger Carascoolplaceonline was the most exciting of the bunch. A scorless tie that went into the twelth extra frame. I think that would make it Dodecahedrouple overtime. The champ survived the scare and squeaked out a somewhat disputed goal that upon review stood as the winner.

That’s why I couldn’t post the games yesterday the last game was still being played. Not since the first Norwegian to scream "Iditarod," has a sporting event gone on this long. The conference finals go next weekend with Blewbewy up against Dazzlingprincess and Pearlzid87 up against Exoticwaverley.

Blog official’s grave site, a grave sight

Tragedy has once again fallen on the Koulderfrump family as the grave site of the late Lars Koulderfrump was desecrated last night by hooligans.

Koulderfrump was the Blog Arena of Death official who died horribly when his car exploded after a match in which he made some controversial calls. It is believed that his officiating cost the Najaf-abad team the game in their South Central Division Semi-final against Exoticwaverley.

The same people are alleged to be responsible for another car bomb that blew Koulderfrump’s hearse to bits at the funeral a week ago, and now the carnage and defecation that was found over the enurned remains late last night. Investigation is pending.

Cosby caught red-handed

Incriminating photos made public

Incriminating photos of, one of the opponents in the Mayoral race for Mitchieville, were leaked to the press late last night. The pictures are of, Mayor hopeful Jerry Cosby and a male companion, and have caused a controversy in Cosby’s camp. A group calling themselves The C.U.N.T. (Citizens United in Nemesis Termination), claimed responsibility for the action. Cosby was not pleased with the events and spoke this morning from the headquarters of his own group Denizens to Insert Cosby as King. He once again stated as he has all campaign that any allegations of impropriety are unfounded and that, "The C.U.N.T. is all wet, as usual, in its efforts to entice the D.I.C.K. into further confrontation."

Getting down to the final four

I’m suppose to be studying for Monday....I know, I know, but why did it have to be this weekend when there are so many important games to watch? No silly, I’m not talking about the Final 4.....I'm alerting you to the Blog Arena of Death. That’s right! It's Division Final weekend and that means there is going to be a slaughter of more brain cells than a single episode of Maurry Povich.

The matchups are all set and there should be some close games.

In the North Division, defending champ Dazzlingprincess keeps rolling along and should have no difficulty dispensing with the challenger Carascoolplaceonline.

In South Central, Exoticwaverly won't be able to count on shabby officiating to get them further in the playoffs this time when they host Simonecreativ.

In the West Coast, Bluebewy looks unstoppable. These little girls are devouring their opponents and they've barely reached puberty. Westernkyteenveg will be up against the wall to beat back the onslaught.

And finally the North East, does Botalabasura still have a few tricks up their sleeve or is it Blog over when they take on Pearlzild87? Tune in to ESPN 4 and find out.

It's going to be a hell of a rollercoaster ride to the final four and of course the losers will be banished to the mystery hoop of pain. Which is no picnic I can tell you. The spathula is extremely sharp and the egg-beater can do a fair bit of damage if you catch it just right. I’m still walking with a limp.

LLLLLLETS GET READY TO BLOGGERRRRR!

Worse? How could it be worse? Jehovah, Jehovah!

I almost got through the week without ranting, but I can only bite my tongue for so long. My lack of posting of late is due to my brain sponge trying to digest the overload of asinine information that is the Land Exterminator Exam. The title alone insists that I should be learning to blow shit up...real good! Nothing could be farther from the truth.

Instead they teach you stuff like, how The European chaffer will suck the grass dry if you let them, (Prostitutes have nothing on this little fella.)
Or how certain grubs hibernate in snowy climbs, depending on whether their anus has a Y shaped vent or a V shaped opening. I’ve had equations and calculations up the yin-yang, legislation concerning aquatic marine vegetation, species of insects from Chinch bug to Beetle, PCP numbers, and I simply don't care anymore.

I’ve tried everything to form some sort of retention. I tried to imagine that my family was being held for ransom and the only way to see them all alive again was to pass this test. I tried comparing my new knowledge to television shows things like Joanie loves Chinchy, 2-4-D something, Desperate House-pests, but nothing works. Even saying, "Ladies and Gentlemen welcome to the stage...The Beatles!" had no effect because there are 1.5 million species in the world. After a week of it... Argghhh! I’m ready to pull out body hairs one by one.

I don’t care if the Mouse-eared Chickweed has fibrous roots. I don’t give one hoot if the Birch Leafminer is really a tiny black sawfly. I couldn’t care less if Bromadoilone is the active ingredient in a single dose of anticoagulants. I don't care. I don't care! I DON"T CARE!

If I fail like 70% of my compatriots already have, then I get to take it all over again. Yea.... me!
I only wanted my licence so I could get a few more bucks an hour, but after this week I label my chances as slim, and none. Actually the Government are very pleased with the failure rate and if it weren’t so high, I’m told they would make the test even harder to compensate. It just goes you how fucked they all really are. I mean look at how well they handled the Air India case.

After this is all over on Monday I need something less stressful.....I know....I think I'll audition for the new "Lord or the Rings," musical that's coming to town. I think I'd make a good dancing and singing Gandalf.

A day late and a dollar short

I realize this is no longer Rip-off Wednesday, but I’m going to post like it is anyway. "Where the hell were you?" I know that’s what you are saying, but it will all be made clear. I know what you're thinking. It's not because of the green beer I assure you. Nor is it early signs of alzheimers. It is simply, I have not quite figured out how to tell time on my new Stonehenge pocket watch yet. You can see my dilemma. I’ve barely read the manual.

However I promise to be more attentive to Greenwich Mean Time. That is until the jump ahead in a couple of weeks to Standard time (Or is it Daylight savings? I could never figure that out.) Then I'll have to spring the trilithons forward to where the dew drops sing and the cats meow. It’s all so confusing. See you tomorrow or is it yesterday?

The Stonehenge pocketwatch 

Seal crazy

Representatives from an assortment of protest groups - about 400 people in all - assembled outside federal offices in Halifax, Ottawa, Toronto and Vancouver in an attempt to mobilize Canadians against the annual East Coast Seal hunt.

First of all I think Seal lives in L.A. so they're looking in the wrong place to begin with.

In Halifax, about 30 people unfurled banners, chanted and waved signs outside the empty constituency office of federal Fisheries Minister Geoff Regan. In Toronto, about 150 placard-waving people turned out for a "family friendly" protest in the city's downtown shopping district. A slightly smaller group on Parliament Hill was jeered by a young Inuit woman from Nunavik. She waded into the crowd to tell them the Seal hunt is a way of life for her people.

I guess people from Nunavik don't appreciate his music. I'm not a huge fan but I did like "Crazy," and that Rose one from the "Batman" soundtrack.

Brigette Bardot, now in her 70s and walking with a cane, says she is still opposed to the hunt. Instead of Bardot, protesters are now relying on the faded star power of Richard Dean Anderson - the former star of the TV shows MacGyver and Stargate.

MacGyver! Cool! If anybody can save Seal it's MacGyver. "Don't thank me Seal, thank the moon's gravitational pull."

The point of the Halifax protest was "to indicate that a large percentage of Maritimers, who live by the sea, are against the Seal hunt."

I guess they like his music too.

Protests were also held Tuesday outside several Canadian embassies. In Mexico City, for example, about 30 people carried signs calling for a boycott of Canadian goods. Other placards featured photos of Seal underneath the words, Please Don't Kill Me.
Apparently the hunt starts in late March.

Run Seal, run!

Strange uncensored

It’s a new week and I feel confident enough to express myself in ways that I see fit. The first order of business is to republish Friday’s censored Blog with the same one except this time I’m just going to let it all hang out. No seven second delay for me . If you take offense, so be it. I’m not going to lose any sleep over it. With out further ado here is Friday’s Blog again, unplugged.


I stepped out yesterday to get some milk and what do I see but this woman with huge piles of paperwork we're talking massive mounds of brochures, giving financial advice to passing strangers. So I asked her if I could get a brochure as well as her opinion too, and she tells me to just get in line and she’ll take care of me. I say, Wow! That’s great. But I don’t have any cash. She says that’s ok because she’s just giving advice for free.

Well if it’s free advice then I want a piece of that action. Because I won’t pay to get advice no matter how little it costs. I tell you people, this girl knew what she was doing. She was artful in the skill of dollar cost averaging, and playful when it came to portfolios. I got the best financial advice I’d ever had.

In fact, after she had finished giving me advice I was so excited I turned around and made a deposit right into my RSP. I thanked her for giving me so much relief. I then asked her If I could come back later and bring my girlfriend. I said she'd like some advice too. She told me that she loved to give advice to women also. What a fantastic person.

I'm !@$#%$^(* sorry Ok!

I realize I have really let the expletives fly this week and perhaps angered the family crowd. Today I wish to make amends by publishing my Blog with the help of the good people at Net Nanny by providing a seven second delay. Here goes....

I stepped out yesterday to get some @#$% and what do I see but this woman with huge ^%$#%# we're talking massive mounds of $^%$. Giving *(&^&$@# to passing strangers. So I asked her if I could get @#$@^ as well as ^$%^$## too?

She tells me to just get in line and she’ll take care of me. I say %^#%# That’s great. But I don’t have any cash. She says that’s ok because she’s just giving &^$%#$# for free. Well if it’s free ^$%#$# then I want a piece of that action. Because I won’t pay to get $%^## no matter how little it costs.

I tell you people this #%#&#& knew what she was doing She was artful in the skill of %$%#$# and playful when it came to #$##&#. I got the best #^&#&% I’d ever had. In fact, after she had finished giving me $#%$%, I was so excited I turned around and #%&%# right into my $%*&$.

I thanked her for giving me so much relief. I then asked her If I could come back later and bring my girlfriend. I said she'd like some %^&*(% too. She told me that she loved to give $%^*$%$ to women also. What a fantastic $%*$*%$.

Jetsgone

It seems that Jetsgo is the newest casualty of the Canadian airways, joining the defunct Air Canada....no wait they’re still in business. They only act like they’ve ceased all operations. Must be the "Don’t give a shit" attitude? You can read about Jetsgo’s tail spin here.

Never let it be said that I didn’t try to do my part to help all those poor people stranded on the cusp of another March break. Here are alternate ways of transportation to get you to the sunny south. You're welcome.

It’s the smell of reverence....really

Some of you may know my views on spending 10 grand on a pretzel or a half eaten taco that looks like a deity. Some of you may not but can make an educated guess. However, I will tell you, if worship could be like this I’d be signing up faster than you could say, "Eyebrows for wizards," or "Chainsaws for ankles," or "fingers for backgammon," but I digress. Just go here and see what I mean.

If only religion was this much fun we’d all be "PRAISING JE-SUS!"

Fighting the computer bug

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I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll....gimme a drink Jimmy

It’s rip-off Wednesday, St. Pat’s piss-up is just around the corner, the Mayor of Mitchieville is on the mend and the smell of Irish car bombs linger in the air. Co-winky-dink? I think not!

There’s very little time left to go out and get one of these babies. I’m talking about the inflatable pub. It comes in two sizes, Large and Leprechaun, and fits neatly into your own backyard. You have your choice of whiskey, a manual "Irish for Dummies", and four burly Micks that will start a fight at your convenience. Now you can wake up at home and yell out, "Hey! Wha-happen?" instead of crying out from the unforgiving bar floor in a cocktail of sawdust, peanut shells, and regurgitated kidney pie.

Inflatable pub 

Apparently I’m a corporate whore

I get into my blog today and there are all these little underlined words on my pages. I’m like "What the hell," so I click on one and it takes me to a site that starts pitching cars at me. "Wo" I say, "I didn’t authorize this insanity," I might have even uttered the word, "Fuck" under my breath. Someone or something has hijacked my site and turned me into a corporate whore.
Then I go to Mitchieville to bring the Mayor some chicken soup and "muddafucka" He’s been made into a corporate whore as well. In fact this Blogarrhea is everywhere just like the frickin’ flu.

It may be just a new update that has been downloaded to my computer and I’m the only one seeing it but it is disconcerting. In the event that it's not and you also see these annoying highlights when you surf...please... Let’s do each other a favour out there. Avoid these damn road blocks promising better education, cars, cheap vacations, on line casinos, penis enlargements and higher vocabulary. Blog safely people. Otherwise you might report to your Blog one day and find emoticons everywhere marking the end of each passage you write. Come on let’s all be different so we can be more like each other.

Die mehr Dinge ändern das mehr, das sie das gleiche bleiben!

Law & Blogger

I was going to deliver another episode of As the Blog Turns today, however, in homage to yesterday’s rant I thought I’d do something different.

Law & Blogger
In the criminal court justice system, there are the innocent victims and then there are the devious fucks. This is their story. (Plunk! plunk!)

(A police station somewhere in the mid-west 5:00 PM central time)

Taylor: "Whatcha got Murph?"
Murphy: "Picked this guy up." (Murph points to accused with his thumb), "He was running from a mail truck with something under his arm."
Taylor: "So you chased him and caught the bastard. Good! Mail tampering’s a felony my friend." (Taylor cuffs the assailant up side the head.)
Murphy: "Yeah people like you make me sick!"
Taylor: "Book em Murphy. Murder one."
Accused: "Murder One? You gotta be kidding? I only stole the contents of a package."
Taylor: "That’s too bad because on Law & Blogger we only book Murder One."
Accused: "I want my lawyer."
Taylor: "That’s a good idea. Murphy bring his lawyer in and book him too. Murder One."
Accused: "But... but... but..."
Murphy: "Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of time to advertise your butt in prison."

(Plunk! Plunk!)

Monday morning rant

Is it any wonder that the Mail industry is slowly dying? Mailing shit Internationally is such a hassle anymore. You have to describe the package contents, you have to put contact phone numbers of the sender and recipient, you have to sign a waiver for your first born, give urine samples. In the shadow of the world we now live in this is the sad fact. However, it is a great vehicle for the devious fucks who want to steal shit from you.

There, right in front of them, is all the information of the package contents. You might as well ring the fuckin’ dinner bell. "Come and get Y’all." Such is my situation as I and the addressee are still recovering from a massive headache of a package that I sent out to LA 10 days ago that arrived destroyed with most of the contents missing. Everyone is upset and the post office and customs end up looking like a bunch of clowns in the process.

And for what? Some cackling idiot who’s blowing dust off a turn table to play his illgotten booty?
Is it any wonder that terrorists send such volatile materials through the mail? They probably had something ripped off at one time or another in the same fashion I just described, by some cowardly mail thief and hope that they get the bastard.

So enjoy your five finger discount, asshole. The next package you try to snatch may be your last.

Blog Division finals are set

The final eight are set as Dazzlingprincess rolled over Disbdatruth 7-1 in Saturday's Blog Arena of Death yawner. In fact there was more excitement in the stands with the tight security and unruly Soccer Moms. I would have rather drank cricket piss through a sock full of sand than watch this one as Dazzlingprincess stormed out to an early 5-0 lead and never looked back easily defending last year’s North Division title. The Blog wars now take a short hiatus until the Division Finals roll late next week.

Battle of the blog heats up

Security will be tight this Saturday as Disbdatruth will take on the defending champion Dazzlingprincess in the North Blog Semi-final. Officials can not afford another incident like the one that lead to chaos at the end of the semi-final game between two South Central Division teams. They have tripled the protection for this weekend match up. The game in question caused the death of one official and left another with an ingrown toenail and a slight headache.

Funeral marred by violence

Lars Koulderfrump, the official who died horribly when his car exploded after a Blog Arena of Death match last Sunday, was to be laid to rest yesterday morning. However, the hearse that was transporting his remains burst into flames after yet another explosion. No one else was injured by the detonation.

Koulderfrump was criticized by the Najaf-abad team after several of his controversial calls eventually cost them the game as they lost to Exoticwaverley 3-2 in the South Central Division Semi-final. Investigation is underway to determine who is behind the car bombings. Koulderfrump’s cremains will now be enurned at a later date.

Rock it man.

I’m a big Family Guy fanatic. Ok you got me; I’m a huge Family Guy fanatic. Since they are so heavily based on parody, I always wondered where they got the idea when Stewie sings Rocket Man. Well— I was surfing around yesterday and found the original clip. William Shatner did it at the 78' sci-fi awards. Now you can compare the two versions and wonder why you never became an actor when there are so many shitty ones out there.
Spock– wha-t are– you wai-ting– for? Go here and fuck the green bitch Jim.

Reading into it

Today is World Book Day. The purpose of it apparently, is to tell someone about a book that you enjoyed and would recommend. I don’t read much because...I NEVER LEARNED TO READ....(just kidding)... mainly I spend most of my time trying to write. However, there is one book that friends tell me is quite funny and an enjoyable read. So I’ll take their word for it and pass it along to you. You can get more info on it here. After all the Da Vinci Code has soared in popularity mainly by word of mouth...so you never know.

Picking the bones of one of my own

It’s Rip-off Wednesday and since the Mayor of Mitchieville is feeling a little under the weather. Actually he’s a lot under the weather. In fact, he is all catheters, projectile vomit and beeping machines. The priest has been there twice this week to administer last rites for gawdsake.

I’d thought I’d take the opportunity to wish him a speedy recovery and at the same time rip-off something from his site. A while back he had a link to something that made me howl. I couldn’t get it out of my head. It made me think and analyze and want to see it again, the same way Pulp Fiction or Seven did. It’s now been a few weeks and yet I’m still all shits and giggles when I look at it. You should too if you haven’t already. Go here and you'll be pissing out your ass in no time.

Again with the shameless self promotion

It’s the beginning of another month and one step closer to the backyard showing signs of life and looking less like a Columbian drug-lord's warehouse. Since I have not done anything of this nature for a while, I thought I’d start off each month with some shameless self promotion. This will be an exercise to remind me that I still love to write and there is some purpose in it which is yet hidden from me.

As I seek representation , I need to fill the gaps and at least give my self some semblance of forward progression. You don’t get that so much from form letters of rejection. Now I’m not sniveling in a "poor me," context here. Remember I was in the music business and believe me if I couldn’t take the set backs I would have left the cake burning in the kitchen long ago.

Maybe rejection is the wrong message? It’s not so much a statement of declination as it is encouragement to seek representation elsewhere. Apparently Agents and Publishers just love it when they’re wrong and can boast about the one that got away. "Yuppers, that John Grisham, we knew he had the potential but we just couldn’t fit him into the roster."

I understand the publishing industry is no less competitive and exhausting than any other form of entertainment.However, it is a place where I am happiest. So here is a snippet from my first novel that is for the hundred or so fellow bloggers who travel here weekly and a reminder to myself to continue on in the belief. The snow will melt one day.

Excerpt: Chapter 4

I’d always thought I was destined for success, and not a life of mediocrity. I had brushed shoulders with some greats in the music business, but I’d never achieved the top drawer. I’m not talking greatness in the sense of a dictator who stands before thousands screaming in Spanish or German, and plotting world domination. En contraire. I wanted a lesser degree of notoriety, like the boy who helps the old lady across the street, or rescues the neighbor’s cat from the clutches of a tree’s upper branches, a good Samaritan type of success. To get to the point where I lost my anonymity or my ability to even wander out to the curb with that week’s garbage without the constant hassle of the autograph seeker or the blinding flash of paparazzi seemed too remote, too Ozzy Osbourne, if-you-will, and not for me. If I was going to start blowing holes in televisions with a Magnum .45 and crapping my diaper ever hour on the hour then it would be due to senility and incontinence, and not anything I would want to achieve musically.

I had taken the job at Ultimate Produce with the best intentions, to create much needed cash flow for my stagnant music career. Then one day, like a butterfly I’d be ready to emerge from my pupa stage. I’d cast off my chrysalis, and soar into a new life of financial comfort, and many, many women without the Ozzy flamboyance.

It was tough to watch, day by day, as my dream, my vision, my slice of nirvana, slowly slipped from my grasp, with the flat-lining, stoppage of the heart that occasionally needed the paddles. Clear!

Gone were the days of playing cover material in dark, beer slogging, smoke-filled hovels. In towns with one street, on streets with no names, to people whose names I never knew, or cared to remember, if I had known them. A time in my life reduced to memories filled with what ifs, and should haves. But the more time I spent on the road the more I felt like an intruder in a domain where I had no business. A menace that was five minutes away from being lynched, and strung up to the nearest back-ho to be dragged, (albeit...very slowly), to my death.

Perhaps a head stone engraved with the words, "He was just trying to entertain . . . ya Bastards!" would be the only epitaph marking my shallow, freshly dug grave. A grave where the sunlight gently dances through the leaves of towering maples, upon the many bouquets, adorning the ground where I lay. A gentle south westerly breeze caressing their petals. My favorite music playing quietly in the background. My fellow band members, dressed in black as usual, standing around quietly sobbing and drinking, or drinking and sobbing. How, were they going to replace their friend, their fallen companion, their musical sibling, with another bass player before next week’s gig in Blind River? A vivacious blonde girl in tight jeans, with breasts heaving, throws herself on the mound of earth, wailing uncontrollably about the loss of the best lover she has ever had. Her hard perky nipples barely concealed beneath the thread she calls a top, ready to pop out of her, . . . well . . . it is, . . . after all . . my vision.


For more information on this work go to: http://ca.geocities.com/homer3d@rogers.com/universe.html?24,38

For information on "The Limits of Respectability," go to: http://ca.geocities.com/homer3d@rogers.com/index.html