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Monday, November 14, 2005
How Jolly!
In honour, perhaps, of Festivus, our Fearless Blog Leader is swapping green for red. Red, the colour of the blood which they expect to suck from him. Little do they know, green got it all years ago. Suckers! Bon voyage, mon ami. ↑
Friday, September 09, 2005
Sure work sucks...
But it beats dying from brain cancer at age 38. Or from stomach cancer at 37. Or even from a heart attack at 72. Being my friend is fatal. ↑
Friday, August 26, 2005
Girls and Boys
 So my little brother is getting married. Not a big suprise. He's quite a catch.... despite his untamable nose hair. Well at least SHE loves him. A special boy he is... chess master... non boozer... bad dancer. Real Love is a strange thing. It doesn't conform. It doesn't take sides. It doesn't have a rancid smell. What?! What!? It's true... REAL LOVE has no odour. Real Love is also unmentioned... like a brother's love for his brother. Be happy String Bean. ↑
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Seasame Street Schooling
I only just heard of Cookie Monster's new diet yesterday - the one that includes a handful a vegetables with his now restricted cookie intake and the song that preaches "There is a time and place for cookies." The mentality behind cutting back our furry blue friend's carb intake makes perfect sense to me - the growing obeisty problem in our youth is clearly the result of a muppet on a children's program. I think that this is a fantastic way to educate children on the realities of this world. In fact I have come up with several more ways for Seasame Street to prep the future of tomorrow. Big Bird should be injected with steroids daily Mr. Snufalufagus should be shot with a cross bow and his tusks made into ashtrays Oscar (essentially being the homeless guy) should carry a flask and shout obscenities The Conjoined Twins (their names evade me - but the monsters that help you spell words) should be subject to people whispering about them behind their backs and ridicule Ernie and Bert should sport a multi coloured flag in their apartment I'm still working on my proposal to the network but I have a feeling that this will really take off. ↑
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Homework Perk
 Yes, I landed me a cozy, home based job where I blast the radio to drone out the sound of the incessant tapping of my tired fingers on the keyboard and curse at my bosses at the top of my lungs....and yet I couldn't seem to make the bile stop rising when the phone rings long distance and I know it's them. Clammy hands, voice cracking like a prepubescent kid I used to answer, feeling slightly bipolar as voices in my head screamed out insults to their condescending tones....and then I found a way to deal with the insanity. It happened by chance really. One morning I woke, hopped in the shower and before I could don any clothing, the phone was ringing - the rat bastards had caught me earlier than usual. I sat in my computer chair, barely paying attention to the monotonous tones rambling in my ear for I suddenly realized that my towel had slipped off and I was taking notes in the buff! That was the most liberating experience of my entire life - so liberating in fact that now when the phone rings; I strip down and make ass kissing motions with my hands while I very politely answer their requests. I love working from home. ↑
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
The Armour and the Dell
For all their supposed "Amazing" and "Astounding" and "On-Site" claims about their technical support service, Dell is NOT living up to the expectations that IT built. I've only spoken to 6 (or is it 7?) help desk reps for a total of probably 8 hours, so maybe I haven't given them a fair shot here. It's hard to aim accurately all the way to India. It's the additional 30+ hours I've spent trying to get the PC reimaged and actually running that is eating away at the high hopes I had. Considering it's STILL nowhere near running properly (sorry - you want to connect to the Internet and go to more than one page? You want the modem driver download to be current?). I give up. I need personal tech support team. ↑
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Mr. Tease
 Despite his flashy gold necklaces and gruff attitude.… Mr. “T” a.k.a . Laurence Tureaud, may have very well been the soft, queer-eye-esque icon of the 80s. Even A-Team co-star George Peppard once, at an awards show, referred to Mr. T’s “T” as standing for “Tenderness”. Well if that’s not a load of “gay” then shit… I dunno what is. In other news Simpson’s character announced Gay! Carry on world… Carry on. ↑
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
GREEDY PUCKERS
Bias disclosure: I have no patience for greed in anybody, but particularly in professional athletes. Both the owners and the players will come out just fine from their petty and drawn out fight. Their salaries are so bloated that they could take a 99% cut and still be better off than most of the people who fork out to watch them go out and play around on the ice. The impact of their greed extends so far...What about the mustard farmers out in Manitoba? The tomato farmers in Leamington? Fans aren't scarfing down hotdogs slathered in condiments, hence the farmers get screwed. How about this? Because the City of Toronto parking lot next to the ACC isn't getting the revenue it expected, they are considering introducing paid parking at the parks along the lake. Listen up, puckers...the people who go to those parks go there because it's cheap and it's all they can afford. Maybe somebody in the Maple Leafs organization could drop off a cheque at City Hall to cover this $300,000 shortfall. That way some poor kid could escape the heat of his non-air-conditioned, 3rd floor walk up apartment and get a chance to go play by the lake for a few hours. The puckers wouldn't even miss the money. ↑
Thursday, January 27, 2005
One In The Hand
Today, Mr. Bush asked Congress for 80 billion more dollars with which to fight those deadly insurrectionists in Iraq. Clearly not a tour de force in the Business 101 department, someone needs to have a chat with Dubyah about cutting into the bottom line. ↑
Monday, January 17, 2005
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Corporate Transparentpee.
Peeing in your pants during work should be avoided. However if it is inevitable, consider the following case studies which clearly support employee transparency as it relates to premature & spontaneous urination. A. Pro Active Communications Approach "Attention everyone! I peed in my pants! ....(pause for effect) ....Please gather in the cafeteria for more details" - announce on the intercom, gather fellow employees and confidently display the affected area. Then pause, stare at everyone and abruptly leave the room. Result: Stunned silence. Scattered whispers. Shock and disbelief. Overall order and peace. B. Re-Active Communications Approach "Hey man...did you pee in your pants?! Oh man!!! Look everyone....he soiled his pants!!!!!!" screams a subordinate as he/she points to your crotch. "No..you dont understand....I spilled my pop....it...shit...i sneezed and.....wait...help me!" you cover yourself like an embarrased school girl while the entire staff gathers around you. The news spreads like a viral infection. Result: Massive chaos and looting. People peeing on everything. It could have been avoided. Next time you pee... embrace it. ↑
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
US vs Them
The other night on an American music awards show a successful music producer was attacked. This incited an off-stage brawl that eventually led to the stabbing of one man and the charging of another. Then, a few days later, a couple of professional basketball players who also happened to be American went ape shit and attacked the very fans that are responsible for inflating their hefty bank accounts and their even heftier egos. Then a couple of days passed and a man who was out hunting in Wisconsin turned his semi-automatic rifle on a group of people leaving 5 dead and several critically wounded. I just don’t understand how the otherwise peaceful nation of the United States of America has allowed itself to get so darned angry. ↑
Saturday, November 13, 2004
Pears are my favourite
It’s days like today that I am grateful that the “Users” in my life let me be. ↑
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Poor Fit
You'd think that with all the running we do in this massive corporate hamster wheel that we'd at least have a buff, athletic physique. ↑
Friday, October 15, 2004
"Is It Me?"
No, just because you have a history of ignorant and petty bosses who lack the professionalism (nevermind the basic social skills) to prepare a proper announcement about your leaving for a new job...this is not a reflection on you. They're just losers. Welcome back to civilization, Feeb Master. ↑
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Still Festering
Awesome film last night - "Le Grand Voyage" (a France-Morocco coproduction). The tale of a journey to Mecca from France - with the modern son imprisoned in the car with his traditional Muslim father. The concept is not new, but it was handled so well. The people in Venice liked this film, too. Last weekend it won the Gold Lion for Best First Feature Film. I wish my friends the same strength, courage and luck on their journey to the Mecca of the Black Towers. ↑
Friday, September 10, 2004
Film Festering
I was pretty happy to hear yesterday afternoon that we were going to get a chance at work to get some free tickets to the Film Festival. Of course, most of the films are showing either tonight or tomorrow night. Not much notice, but since I'm not one of the "married with kids living in the burbs" drones, I'm OK with that. Today I hear that the VPs have already taken their pick of the tickets and have been passing around their leftovers to the managers. Reminds me of the song my dad used to sing to us about the fox going out in the middle of the night to get a goose. He and his fox wife dine on the best bits..."And the little ones chewed on the bones-ios". Yep, can't wait to get my chance to go see the cheery little flick about the genocide in Rwanda. ↑
Thursday, August 19, 2004
Useless Google Research – Part 1
Those who know me know that I frequently have moments of bizarre contemplation. Like when I wondered whatever became of early nineties television personality Mayim Bialik. Best known for her role as Blossom (1991-1995) on the television sitcom of the same name, Miyam has spent the decade following the show’s cancellation involved a multitude of movie and television projects. While much of her work has been that of voice-overs and made-for-TV movies, I think that it’s safe to assume that Miyam Bialik probably still sucks and has blossomed into an even uglier, nerdier version of the abject Blossom character we all grew to hate. … In my opinionation. ↑
Monday, August 16, 2004
All For The Dough Purse
The Olympics have started and of course so have the doping scandals. Shamefully it was the Greeks, the very country hosting the international games, that were the first to turn in sullied urine. I feel for these athletes. They are under a lot of pressure to perform. These games become a sort of war where you can either survive and triumph over the rest of the world making you a national hero, or you can fail miserably and lose the respect and admiration of your whole country and potentially millions in endorsement contracts. That’s a tough job. At my job… if I don’t format a document properly and the margins are shifted way left for half of the text and then centred for the rest… well… let’s just say I pray that no one ever checks what’s in my pee pee. ↑
Monday, July 26, 2004
Cinemixtures
The Joy Luck Fight Club Through a series of recollections, four young Chinese America born woman and their respective mothers born in feudal China explore their past then engage in gratuitous bouts of pugilism. Killing Fields of Dreams A New York Times journalist is driven by an unseen voice to establish a baseball field in a Cambodian rice paddy during the mad rule of Pol Pot. The Maltese Falcon and The Snowman The true story of disillusioned CIA employee Sam Spade and his murdered drug pusher childhood friend who, in the late 70s, became walk-in spies for the Soviet Union, pursue a gold-encrusted life-sized statue of a falcon filled with malted chocolate balls. Spiderman of La Mancha This story takes place during the Spanish inquisition where a would-be arachnid-superhero finds himself obsessed with defeating his mortal enemy… a stationary windmill. Independence Groundhog Day A sarcastic weatherman is reluctantly sent to cover a story about a weather forecasting group of aliens who are planning to attack major points around the globe in less than a day. This shitty plot is repeated over and over until Will Smith’s career finally comes to an end. Buena Vista Social Breakfast Club Coming of age film where 5 angst burdened Cuban teenagers with nothing in common, meeting for the first time instantly form a band and play salsa music while serving detention in a Communist prison. My Best Friend's Big Fat Greek Wedding A Greek-American spinster finally finds love with a non-Greek man and labors to get her family to accept him when she suddenly finds herself the object of the affections of her long-time friend Nikos a wily, self-pleasuring goat. Punch Drunk Love Actually It’s 1 month before Christmas when a stressed-out business owner finds a harmonium on the side of the road then embarks on a romantic journey with a porno-line operator who’s sexual escapades intertwine with the lives of 7 other couples. ... I have decided to continue the madness here: cinemixtures.blogspot.com ↑
Thursday, July 22, 2004
Leurc Si Dog
Madame de Stael said that "One must chose in life between boredom and suffering". I believe this to be true. I find that the more I resist tediousness, the more I suffer and the more I try to comply and accept life’s injudicious cruelties, the more disconnected I feel. The worst part… is that I’m not alone. A lot of people I know feel the same way. As I’m sure do a lot of people I DON’T know. The kicker is that we are such a selfish species that we are incapable of helping each other. Our innate desire for power, happiness and tangible things, typically at the deprivation of others, we ultimately realize is what actually makes us feel so miserable and alone. What the fuck is with that? ↑
Monday, July 19, 2004 Buzz off Mosquitoes are nature's way of telling us to stop f'n around. Honestly, if you're working outside - building a deck, for example - do you get bitten by mosquitoes? No. Helping the homeless guy?
Selling street meat?
When do they get you? When you're just out there to have a good time. *skritch-skritch, skritch-skritch*
↑
Thursday, July 08, 2004
Hummena Hummena
What role do our actions or inactions take in our lives? Who's to say that getting "out there" and meeting people, participating in events and looking for opportunities is really going to make a difference? Who's to say that just sitting at home watching TV alone on the chesterfield necessarily negatively impacts the path of our life? Maybe we're meant to sit at home and suffer an attack of something requiring a call to 911 and meeting the paramedic of our dreams in order to live happily ever after. Why do good things happen to good people? ↑
Monday, July 05, 2004
Merry Melodies
On CBC Radio, there is this new program called "50 Tracks" that resolves to identify the TOP 50 songs of the last 100 years. So, I put it out there… what songs do you think should be included in Top 50 Songs of the last century? I submit: - Chuck Mangione - Feels So Good - Wilson Pickett - Mustang Sally - Dave Brubeck Quartet - Take Five - Bob Marley - No Woman No Cry - Stan Getz and Astrud Gilberto - The Girl From Ipanema - Sade - Smooth Operator - Police - Every Breath You Take - Public Enemy - Fight The Power - Aqua - Barbie Girl - Just wanted to see if you were paying attention. What is on your list? ↑
Thursday, June 24, 2004
Fissy Hit
Top 6 Things That Could Go Wrong When You're Trying to be Dramatic: 5. The Door Won't Slam. Instead It Shuts Slowly and Quietly Even Though You Put All Your Force Behind That Mofo. 4. You throw yourself on the ground in a public place. Except there was a tank mine there and your fat ass set it off. (It is a dramatic spectacle but your head is a kilometer away once the dust settles) 3. You start driving like a mad man to prove your love to your girlfriend in a dramatic fashion. Except you realize you don't have a car and you're on the subway. She laughs at you and your tokens. 2. You yell out: "Go ahead...see what happens" They Go Ahead. Nothing Happens. 1. You don't wear glasses. So you can't take them off in a dramatic fashion while saying: "What the fuck are you talking about?!" Instead you remove your contacts and place them in a cleaning solution. It's just not the same. 0. You become enraged and punch a hole through the wall. Except you're on a plane. Many deaths. ↑
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
They Violate My Space...
A buddy of mine is moving back home to the East Coast. Not a really close buddy… but a good guy, who will be missed. This is the guy who taught me to read regularly… the guy who introduced me to authors like Ken Kesey, Hunter S. Thompson and Larry Flynt. Y’know… the classics. Here’s what I’d like to say to DH. First of all… I hear that DH is really G. Second of all… I’d still like to meet that recluse who watches you play a mean pinball in Union Station…. and finally… thanks man. You’ve made us laugh with your dry sense of humour and you can hold your pints… and really… there is little more to being a man. Or is that… “There is more to being a Little Man”? Ahahahahah! Hey, short guys live longer. You have my permission to dance a fervent jig on my grave. Good luck on the Cape and don’t forget about your high falootin’ city friends. Cheers buddy. ↑
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
Trance Sit
I live in the "East End" of the city. Today was one of the first really humid, smoggy, shitty Toronto days this year (to which my generation has become so accustomed). I noticed, riding the subway first West then South… that the North-South train was NOTICEBALY cooler than the East-West train. That is, the train that carries the more affluent "Downtowners" to the city’s "Uptown" (and vice versa) was EXCESSIVELY more comfortable (and expensive to operate) than the underprivileged East-West train that generally carries a clearly less well-off load of immigrants and working-class to their humble neighbourhoods. People who have no OTHER choice than to take "The Better Way". And all I could think of was FUCK YOU Toronto Transit Commission and your propaganda advertisements citing diversity and cultural transcendence. Then I shooed some foreign homeless guy out of the way so I could put my FCUK purchases into their own comfortable seats. ↑
Friday, May 28, 2004
Wontcha be?
Today my neighbour told me that someone had knocked on the door of another one of our neighbours, a neighbour whom I’ve never had the chance to meet. This person pretended to be ME. The imposter laid on some thick story about how he had just moved into the neighbourhood (he had probably seen the For Sale sign on our lawn a few months earlier). He cited my house number and proceeded with some phony chronicle about being locked out of “his” house and that his wife had taken his wallet by mistake and that she wasn’t around and that his kid needed to be picked up etc. etc. He apologized profusely and expressed his embarrassment at the situation. Real sob story. He managed to talk my nice neighbour out of twenty dollars. This charlatan used the fact that even though neighbours don’t always get the chance to know each other… they still generally show compassion for those around them and he profited from their kindness. He has, for a shitty twenty bucks, undermined the spirit of goodwill in my new neighbourhood… and if I ever meet up with him… I will show him my disapproval in a way that will make twenty dollars seem like a very small amount. That would be a beautiful day in the neighbourhood. ↑
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
Victoria’s Secret
This weekend marked the official launch of the "summer season" for most Canadians. Us Canucks affectionately refer to the first long weekend of the season as "May Two Four". Although commonly believed to be a National Holiday created by the Molson's Beer Company, the actual historical significance of May Two Four has nothing to do with the Canadian unit of measure for lager. May 24th is when we celebrate the distinguished life of Queen Victoria of England… who was our Sovereign governess from 1837 until 1901 (as well as England's, Ireland's and India's for most of that time). Everyone loved the Queen… well except maybe for some of the folks who lived in the nations that England ruled by force… But for the most part she was a fun-loving, gin-swilling monarch who married her cousin and supported pre-Nazi Germany. Happy May Two Four everybody! ↑
Thursday, May 20, 2004
Free o' males
The other day on ESPN or TSN… or one of those sports channels, there was this "Miss Fitness" contest. You may have seen these pageants? Where the girls have rock hard abs and Schwarzeneggeresque biceps? They sport super-tight ponytails that stretch their faces back like Janice the Muppet. Then they dance around the stage doing one-handed push-ups and back flips to popular music. Well if my balls didn’t shrink to the size of a newt’s eye. Of the few things I can do well with one hand... push-ups aren’t one of them. And back flips? The last time I back-flipped, it was as I screamed through the air after hitting a log with my bicycle. The question that haunted me… was why? Why do these women go through years of painful training and diet so that they can compete in what is essentially a contest that demeans them to little more than a circus act? They have this amazing physical empowerment and they allow it to be exploited to sell some shitty power-bars. If those beefy broads banded together… they could take over the whole world. And when they did, I would proudly buy their swimsuit calendar to show my support. ↑
Thursday, May 13, 2004
The Quintessential Employee
As some of you may know… I loathe the corporate life. The ‘pot luck’ lunches. The rampant insincerity. And worst of all… the incompetent assholes that leach from my never-waning fountain of positivity and hard work. Ahem. At any rate, I am really… REALLY tired of supporting useless corporate morons who are too stupid to put together any logical thoughts or ideas of their own. I’ve decided to do something about it. Let me know what you think: 1. If, in a meeting someone takes credit for my work… I will get up on the table, square off with my crotch just about their head and point at them while I sing-scream in a Rob Zombie type voice… “Fuuuuccckkk Yooouuuu….. Fuuuuccckkk Yooouuuu….. That’s my idea…. Fuuuuccckkk Yooouuuu…..”. 2. If somebody asks me for help and it’s pretty clear that the work I do will end up with HIS OR HER name on it… I will code that work with a small program that will take their name and add it to the Police’s ‘National Known Sex Offenders’ Registry database. Then, when they go to apply to be a Hockey Coach, Girl Guide or Scout troop leader… they will basically be fucked. 3. If someone calls me and asks for my expert opinion and then passes it off as their own, I will steal a locket of their hair then use it to carry out a Macumba soul separation curse that will cause them to float eternally in the Realm of Sorrow and Unspeakable Pain. I will also ‘Super-Size’ the curse to include their immediate family. …and remember, there is no “I” in team… but there is an “M” and an “E” …fuckers. ↑
Thursday, May 06, 2004
Freed? Ummm....
Didn’t the "Coalition Of The Willing" go into Iraq to free the poor, helpless Iraqis from the manacles of abuse and tyrannical rule that Saddam Hussein had wielded over them for dozens of years? Abuses like… ooooh… Gee, I dunno… the inhumane treatment of prisoners? God bless America. ↑
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
Hands So Low
Today, in the washroom at work, I noticed a posted bulletin entitled “How to Wash Your Hands”. It was quite competently printed on an 8 ½ X 11 sheet of paper and ran about 200 words. There were two copies of it… one on each side of the row of sinks. It detailed the hygienic reasons behind washing your hands and then provided a numbered list of the actual procedures that must be undertaken in order to properly cleanse your hands. Instructions like: “hold one hand under the soap dispenser and depress the pump” and “rinse thoroughly with hot water”. I am a professional. I work in a place where most everybody is a university graduate. What kind of FUCKING MORONS does our company think that they’ve hired? What kind of soiled miscreants do they feel are staffing their teal coloured cubicles that they would have the AUDACITY to tell us how to clean ourselves? Am I the only sane person who questions this practice? I mean COME ON…. What’s next? “How to wipe your ass” ? I hope they ALL get SARS and die. ↑
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
It's All in the Name
As I struggled to wake up this morning, the news announcers told two stories: 1. The remains of Antoine de St-Exupéry have been located in the waters off Marseilles some 60 years after his plane disappeared. M. St-Exupéry wrote the well-known book "Le Petit Prince" - morals for a modern age disguised as a children's story. 2. Ten years ago today marked the beginning of the Rwandan genocide of the Tutsis at the hands of the Hutus. Canadian General Romeo Dallaire has ongoing nightmares about how he tried to alert the world to this massacre, but they wouldn't listen. One tale in "Le Petit Prince" tells of how a great astronomer telling a group of Western scholars about a fantastic new discovery was not believed simply because he was not dressed like they were. Once he exchanged his Turkish garb for European clothing - everyone accepted his report. If the names of the massacring and massacred peoples in Rwanda had not been so "foreign", would we have paid attention? ↑
Monday, March 29, 2004
You’ll Understand When You Have Kids…
My busy life has kept me from expressing myself via this blog. However, I have made a point of expressing myself in other ways. Like by swearing at those around me and by throwing child-like tantrums when I don’t get my own way. Well, whatever works. In Ohio, this lady was sentenced to 6 ½ years in jail for faking that her daughter had leukemia. She went so far as to shave her daughter’s head and give her sleeping pills, claiming that the kid was in chemotherapy. She also put the kid in counseling to prepare her for her own death. Now, I was never subjected to this particular brand of extreme abuse as a child… but I will offer: 1) My parents decided how long my hair should be. 2) My parents told me when to go to sleep. 3) My parents raised me to constantly fear my own demise (at their hands of course). 4) My parents, on many occasions could be heard saying to me that I was a ‘sick boy’. My parents never did any time. My parents always told me that life wasn’t fair. ↑
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
Friday, March 05, 2004
Citizens Cultivated
Many years ago (in the 1960s), the Ontario Ministry of Tourism (I think) put out this pro-Ontario theme song. A few weeks ago while visiting as a guest on the Conan O’Brien show, actor Jim Carey (an Ontario native) resurrected the song by singing his own unabashed version. This prompted the cracker-jack-idea-machine that is our government to consider re-releasing a “modern” version of the catchy “Ontari-ari-ari-o” song. There was an appeal to the masses to update the lyrics. And so, I have undertaken this civil duty: Original Lyrics Give us a place to stand, and a place to grow, and call this land, Ontario. A place to live, for you and me, With hopes as high, as the tallest tree, A place to stand, a place to grow, Ontari-ari-ari-o A place to stand, A place to stand, A place to grow, A place to grow, Ontari-ari-ari-o! New Improved Lyrics Give us a place to stand, in a welfare queue, where your Government will steal from you, Corrupted cops and Steam Ship Lines, Where a pot-grow-op seems quite benign, Blackouts, SARS and Mad-Cow too, We’ve even got the Asian Flu, Elected staff, Elected staff, Will blow your dough, Will blow your dough, Ontari-ari-ari-o! ↑
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
From The Cradle to the Gravy…
On a sad note, Fernand Lachance, the Canadian inventor of poutine passed away earlier this month. For those of you who don’t know, poutine is a delectable concoction of French fries topped with gravy and cheese curds that is enjoyed the world over. Mr. Lachance died of (go figure) pulmonary disease. Apparently “the town he called home is looking for a way to commemorate the world-famous culinary invention”. Yeah, because cheese and sauce on fried potato slices needs to be commemorated… like we Canadians aren’t already the laughing stock of the world… now we can be known as purveyors of a deep-fried delicacy that boasts a lofty 60 grams of fat per serving and was arguably responsible for the death of the man who invented it. On the other hand, it certainly is a nice little international ‘fuck you’ from a country known for it’s excessive courtesy and political correctness. …with 'glowing' hearts we eat thee fries ↑
Friday, February 20, 2004
Cock Talk
I think that Rusty the Rooster should be the next Governor General of Canada. During his 25 year tenure on the CBC, Rusty the Rooster embodied what it meant to be a true Canadian. He was inquisitive, loyal and even though he lived in a giant castle, he was humble. You may say, “Representing the Queen is no easy task!”. Well I’d say “Neither is living in a cloth sack or playing the harp with fervor and finesse using small a set of stumpy wings!”. With all this recent talk of under-the-weather poultry, I would love to see this regal rooster strut his stuff in Rideau Hall and show those nay-sayers what Canadian chickens are really made of. As the Governor General of Canada, I could see Rusty bringing important facts to light… such as; “The Order of Canada” is NOT in fact “A medium double-double and a dozen Timbits” but rather, a prestigious award presented to Canadians BY the Governor General designed to justify the existence OF the Governor General. I certainly hope Mr. Martin can find it in his heart to appoint Mr. Rooster to this prestigious social position and stop the malicious cycle of species-discrimination that has been allowed to incubate and hatch in the office of the Governor General of Canada. It’s time to shake (and bake) up Ottawa and Rusty the Rooster is just the bird to do it. Thank you. ↑
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
The Tinseltown Trinity
Mel Gibson is bankrolling this new flick called ‘The Passion of the Christ’ which is to be released on Wednesday Feb 25, 2004 - Ash Wednesday on the Roman Catholic calendar. The movie is supposed to detail the final hours of Jesus Christ’s life. In what is an apparently graphic depiction of torture and crucifixion, the movie promises to be one of the closest, most realistic representations of JC’s final hours… However, this film is not without divisive intervention… It has caused outrage in many Jewish communities where the general feeling is that Jews depicted in the movie, as being responsible for Christ’s death, will become victims of anti-Semitism. Jim Caviezel, (the actor who plays Christ) was actually STRUCK BY LIGHTNING while filming the movie. (Where was God when “Dude Where’s My Car” was being filmed). Regardless of how everything pans out, I don’t think I’ll be going to see the sequel since I’m pretty sure I know what happens. In the name of The Father, The Son and The Holy Oscar. Amen. ↑
Friday, February 13, 2004
Grow your penis by 8 inches
Top 5 Valentine's Day Ideas for those who just want to do something different this year: 5. Say "I Love you" through a voice box. Once the obligatory Valentine's Day intercourse takes place, moan through the voice box. No matter how heavenly your orgasm is, you will sound like Stephen Hawkins. It will be funny and rejuvenating! 4. Show your loved one how cost efficient you are. Take her to the nicest restaurant in town. Order 2 cups of hot water. Squeeze 2 ketchup packets into each cup, add a pint of salt and pepper. You now have your own Valentine's Day Tomato Soup. Free! When she gives you a quizzical look, throw salt in her eyes. It will put things in perspective. 3. Buy some lingerie. Get home early. Throw it on the living room floor. Leave two glasses of wine on the table. When your wife gets home, run to the bedroom...close the door and pretend you're having an affair. After she storms in and the initial shock gives way to relief, you can both laugh and agree it was all in good fun. Good times! This is the perfect time to bring the Japanese school girl out of the closet and suggest a threesome. I'm serious. 2. Dissapear without a trace. Locate and contact her 10 years later and ask "What's for dinner tonight, honey? I'm starved." 1. Buy her a dozen plastic roses and say: "My love is forever...like these flowers. And you don't have to water them" Repeat the same next year. If she's still with you. ↑
Stupid Cupid
Valentine’s day is a scam. If you truly appreciate your spouse, then you should show them every day… not just on February 14th because retailers tell you to. Here is a list of 14 nice little things that you can do for your loved one on the other 364 days of the year to show them that you really care; 1. Don’t drink excessively and then viciously beat them for not having dinner ready. 2. Flush the toilet after EVERY use. 3. If you steal money from their wallet, leave a small, scented ‘IOU’ note in place of the cash. 4. Always remember that your teeth are no substitute for proper toenail clippers. 5. If you become angry, frustrated or suicidal, make sure to suppress those feelings deep into the pit of your stomach until they go away. Don’t burden your loved one with your issues. 6. Buy yourself a beer fridge that you can place next to your easy-chair so that it’s within comfortable reach. This will save your spouse the effort of having to get you a beer every time you finish one. 7. Cook a surprise dinner and be sure to leave some left-overs for your loved one to enjoy when they get home from work. Also, leave the dishes and clean-up to your spouse to show them that they are an important part of ‘Team Us’. 8. When leaving your soiled underpants on the floor, be sure to kick them into a corner so that your spouse will not have to navigate around them. 9. If you are unfaithful, be discrete when cheating so as not to upset your significant other. 10. If you must expel gas in public, take full responsibility rather than unjustly blaming your love. 11. Don’t get cancer. Terminal illness is a bummer to everyone. 12. When your spouse is cleaning your home, be sure to stay out of their way and even put on some nice music for them to enjoy while they work. 13. A small monetary favour is a nice way to thank your spouse for a small sexual favour. 14. Nothing says ‘I love you’ like grabbing some ass when you hug your spouse. Feel the ass, feel the love… ↑
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
Brother, can you spare a twenty?
I recall the good old days when someone needed a few coins for a coffee...or a bagel...or a phone call. The cost of inflation has really hit home. I find myself being propositioned for 10s and 20s now with regularity. Perhaps it is rather presumptuous of me to expect to see the money again. I mean, it could be implied that it is spare change. Unfortunately, I am not an ATM. If I were, I would be periodically serviced by burly, goatee-wearing gents in polyester crested-jackets. I would also charge a dispensing fee of 1.50 like those generic ATM's do. Soon I suspect I will be dishing out brown-notes with regularity. ↑
Monday, February 09, 2004
50 Cent Equivalent
Today we had a Software Development Framework - Panel Discussion. While my contribution was limited to a series of "Hmmms" , "Ahhhhhs" and "Ohhhhhs", I was also able to write some hip hop lyrics. Although my hip hop lyrics will not help my company in any shape or form, my company's Software Development Framework will do nothing for me....so we're even. Peep this: What is my role in this company I feel like I'm sitting in a liturgy Repeating same old hymns with the clergy Talking about creating some synnergies Everyone is talking shit frequently But noone ever does anything actually And if they do .....they don't do it properly I feel like i'm the author in Misery Chained down to my cubicle everyday You may say : "Hey! Do not Dismay" "Afterall...it's your choice to show up today" And you may have a point putting it that way But I still can't resist every other thursday the problem is that now i am used to getting paid for sitting in meetings and looking for a way to help my company make more and more mula while the company does nothing for my medula oblongata...it doesnt even matter it's winter time but i dont wear a hat cause my hair do will end up looking flat when i was in poland we had a fiat you dont know what that is? it's an italian made vehicle driving that thing would make anybody cynical. peace ↑
Thursday, February 05, 2004
Ah, verage.
It's important to give kids the real linguistic tools they will need in life. I did my part by teaching my friend's 1-1/2 year old the following words: snot sub-standard mediocre (his favourite of the 3) I feel better about the future. ↑
Friday, January 23, 2004
Right Urns (More Thoughts)
I am fond of the analogy found below and would like to add a couple of thoughts: >> Hope the aimless folks dont purchase a solar powered vehicle >> The width of the rearview mirror is inversely proportional to the amount of times the drives looks at it. >> The harder you accelerate, the quicker you run out of gas. Conclusion? Coast...and you will live longer. >> Before you reflect on your past....hit "Defrost". >> If you spend too much time in the rearview...you might end up going through your windshield. And finally: >> if the choices we make in life are represented by the roads we take...then stay off the Gardiner West after 4pm. It's a fucking disaster. If you're heading west I like to take King for a while, then head south and merge with Lakeshore or Gardiner further down west. For some reason, it is really congested in the downtown core in the afternoon. I like to tune into 680 NEWS AM for the traffic report before I leave work to find out if there are any accidents ahead. This information helps me greatly because I still have to take that road home and I will be stuck in traffic like a moron who knew in advance he would be stuck in traffic. I also enjoy the smell of gas. ↑
Tuesday, January 20, 2004
Right Urns
I have often compared life to a car with a full tank of gas and the choices that we make to the roads we take. Most people spend their lives driving aimlessly until they finally run out of gas before reaching their desired destination.... which ironically, is a destination that they had no idea how to get to... no map to follow and in most cases never even figured out what the destination was. I suppose the 'enlightened' driver looks in the rear-view mirror when his tank comes close to empty and says; "those were interesting streets I chose... beautiful things I saw.... amazing places I went... friendly passengers I picked up and terrible accidents I avoided". Regardless of what they really were... since time can twist our perception... and mirrors show everything backward. I think that the cruel part is that most of us will look in that mirror and come to the realization that it was a dark and lonely journey, filled with wrong turns, accidents, bad scenery and shitty passengers... all of which were of our own choice. And now we're out of gas. Losers. ↑
Monday, January 05, 2004
My call? Jacked son!
So I guess that the parents of the 12 year-old boy at the centre of Michael Jackson’s LATEST pedophilia scandal aren’t going to be up for any Parent of The Year awards. You’ve got to wonder about people who send their child for ‘innocent’ sleepovers into the home of creepy, middle-aged man who lives in an amusement park. Jackson is the ultimate stranger with candy in his trench coat… and what’s scarier is what else he’s got in his proverbial sack of goodies…. namely money and lawyers. Now clearly, Jacko is a sick fuck… but the question that hasn’t been asked is “What is being done about this kid’s parents?”. Shouldn’t they be charged for neglect of parental duties and for failing to provide a safe environment for their child? Or at the very least for exercising severely bad judgment… Now let’s say for the sake of argument that The King of Pop may not actually be a child molester, if MJ doesn’t have “bad babysitter” written all over his pasty face then I don’t know who does. In a related story… ↑
Friday, January 02, 2004
Karmalat
So you may have heard about this international company based in Italy who are missing something like 4 billion euros. Once considered a ‘blue-chip’, their stock has now dropped to almost nothing… leaving their stock-holders to pick up the tab. Their executives are facing big charges that could land them in jail for a long, long time… Their employees are awaiting the fate the company and their own livelihoods. Sad. When they were fucking over all those people, didn’t those execs ever stop and consider Karma? Arrivederci. ↑
Wednesday, December 31, 2003
Crappy New Jeer
Hello, and thank you for joining us. In case you didn’t know, today is the last day of 2003 and the first day of the rest of your life. So what will you do on this day of commencement? Meditate? Speculate? Fornicate? You have choices. Will you do the right thing? Lose that weight? Quit that vice? Eat more fibre? Infinite choices, finite time. Cruel isn’t it? ↑
Wednesday, December 24, 2003
Merry Covetousness
For many Christian families around the world, tomorrow will mark the first time that their child celebrates Christmas. “Baby’s first Christmas” is a memorable rite, that wouldn’t be complete without photograph-endowed tree ornaments, sliver plated cenotaphs and videotaped proof to corroborate the celebration. Baby, will watch in starry-eyed wonder as shiny, new things bring his family unspeakable joy. He will associate the sound of glee with the smell of his kin's booze-burdened breath. And of course, his Mommy and Daddy will record every moment… so that in a few years when Baby turns into a greedy, little ingrate who cries when he doesn’t get the latest video game or robotic toy… screaming about how much he hates them… imbibing alcohol and smoking pot with his friends, they can muse over when exactly Baby changed into this materialistic, self-indulgent monster and which rap artist is to blame. Merry Bling Bling. ↑
Friday, December 19, 2003
Whines & Cheeses
It seems that every year I grow a little bit older, a little bit wiser and increasingly more bitter. Especially towards Christmas. I may not be green and furry, but I despise this retail ritual with grinch-like abandon. We are horrible, gluttonous, filthy consumers. The more we devour, the more we want. It’s sick. I hope I get an XBOX for Jesus’s birthday. ↑
Friday, December 12, 2003
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
E-Valuation Revisited
While still waiting for that elusive and supposedly annual review, it was announced in a team meeting yesterday that I have yet another new boss. This is the sixth official boss in less than 17 months. The unofficial boss has until tomorrow to complete my 2003 performance appraisal. This boss is out of the office today and I've got a roster full of meetings already tomorrow. One of which is a "I want to get to know you" chat with the new boss. I can't wait. ↑
Thursday, November 27, 2003
Docile Domicile
So yet another chapter in the horrible story of my road to adulthood has come to pass. I recently committed to the purchase of a home. Well, half a home actually… it’s a semi-detached dwelling. I remember when saying that I had a “semi” meant something entirely different. Nevertheless… a semi it is. I had looked into buying a detached home, but the city is expensive and besides… I think that there may be a profound sub-psychologically induced motive to why I bought a semi. You see… it means that I’m still not fully a grown up since I still don’t own a full house. It’s like I’m only really responsible for 3 walls. The fourth is a shared burden. There’s still that sense that I don’t really own the whole roof. “As long as you live under my roof….” Don’t you see? There’s still that feeling that I’m not fully accountable for my own roof yet. And so progresses my resistance of maturity… one shingle at a time. ↑
Monday, November 03, 2003
Faugh!
OK. As bad as we may feel the hamster wheel can be, chances of GBH (Grievous Bodily Harm) are generally somewhat minimal. My father, while visiting a factory, had his ankle run into with the rear wheel of a front-end loader. Nothing broken, but the abrasion is expected to take 2 to 3 months to heal. How is this possible? ↑
Friday, October 17, 2003
E-Valuation
If you start a job, a job that hasn't existed before you started it, and you aren't given a job description and you can't create a list of goals to which you will be held accountable a year later because the scope of your project, and hence your job, changes every few hours, and if your first boss quits, your second boss quits, your third boss is a contractor and is, therefore, not responsible for evaluating your performance and then you get your fourth boss but then changed jobs into another newly created position that also has no job description and you get a fifth boss who asks the boss of your third boss, the contractor, to handle your review, how are you evaluated on your job performance? Just curious. ↑
Wednesday, October 08, 2003
Doublin'
Animals marching 2 x 2 Twins Coffee for some Dipping Or nothing Trouble Thing 1 & Thing 2 Your pleasure, your fun Peas in a pod On a bike Your odds Bubble Bon Voyage ↑
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
Cardamom
Like a voyeur (that'd be the peeping tom), it spices things up. Like Hanoi (that'd be the capital of Vietnam), it is exotic. Unlike Doomhauer (that'd be Dom), it smells yummy. ↑
Monday, October 06, 2003
Blooz
So, if sadness is "the blues", why do I feel grey? Dull and metallic, not shiny, magpie-attracting metallic. Just old lead pipe grey. And why do my eyes feel (but not look) red? I am a gaping void Where loneliness resides. The song in my heart turns mournful and off-key. Where have they gone? Where have they gone? ↑
Friday, October 03, 2003
Agrarian
Marion. Madame Librarian. Has she forgotten her farmland childhood? Has she been uprooted from the very soil from which she sprouted? Does she drift aimlessly as a tumbleweed? Does she try on new identities as she slips into a book during work hours? Will the dirt fall off the heels of her sensible pumps? Will she acknowledge her cousin when she passes his John Deere on the street? We will never know. We just won't. ↑
Wednesday, September 24, 2003
fArt
I have not made any contributions lately. It simply did not cross my mind. Incidentally, I've been experiencing tremendous amounts of gas and bloating. Take this here paragraph as a fart. Mmm...I feel much better. ↑
Friday, September 12, 2003
Tuesday, September 02, 2003
C'est Frômage
It's not so much that they are moving my cheese, it's that they are giving me blue cheese. It stinks! I'm the City Mouse, not the freakin' Country Mouse. I want to explore all kinds of new cheese, I don't want to merely follow the scent of the cheese I've already tasted. I don't want to be offered "tasty new cheese" only to discover when I go sniffing that it's the blue cheese I know I don't and won't like. Is that really too much to ask? ↑
Thursday, August 21, 2003
Hole Grains
I started eating bran a couple of weeks ago. I eat a bowl of it every morning. Needless to say, my regularity has improved. There are few things as satisfying as a well-executed elimination. It’s like a symphony of nature, body, mind, spirit and plumbing. Everything comes together with the simple intention of moving cargo from one place to the other. Bran is like the Fed-ex of my ass. And make a saint of whomever invented that two-ply quilted toilet paper… I mean HALLELUJAH! Thanks to my Cottonelle Ultra, what once was a repeated effort of maybe 4 or 5 cycles can now be executed in 2. Although the bran keeps the whole process so damned tidy that I often just pull up my trousers and off I go. No need for swabbing the deck if you know what I mean. Everyone should eat more bran. ↑
Monday, August 18, 2003
Light Shed
So you might have heard about this power blackout we had last week. I was diligently working on my computer when the whole world just turned off. While our ineffectual politicians waited for each other to do something, our brave citizens took matters into their own hands. Citizens engaging intersections where traffic lights had failed, to provide direction. Citizens wandering the streets aimlessly while clicking redial on their cell phones. Citizens jacking up the price of gasoline and water to make a quick buck. God bless this city. While our chief of police praised the population for not inciting riots, frenzied survivalists pilfered the batteries from their love-aids to power once forgotten flashlights. It would seem that throbbing instruments of pleasure would take a backseat to the ability to navigate in the dark. Who knew? Although I’m a little disappointed that this West Nile, Mad Cow, Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome afflicted town couldn’t even get their shit together to do some good old fashioned looting. I for one am ashamed to wear my I-MAPLE LEAF-TORONTO T-shirt when we can’t even unite to steal from business crippled by a lack of hydro. Where is this city’s sense of togetherness and mob-driven pilferage? And so we lived through it…. But did we really LIVE through it? ↑
Tuesday, August 12, 2003
Puppy Love
I love my dog. I think that most “dog people” would share my sentiment…. Well I mean about THEIR dogs. Not MY DOG per se. They would love THEIR OWN dogs. And Why not? Dogs are selfless and loving. They don’t hold grudges. They keep their genitals remarkably clean. I could say less for most of the people that I know. My dog (Boris) is a big soul in a little body. He is a small Terrier who weighs in at a whopping 14lb but has the mentality of a 180lb Bull Mastiff. I’ve seen him go after birds, squirrels, chipmunks…even a big Chow Chow who lives in our neighbourhood. All this I might add, without any testicles. Yes, we had Boris castrated as a young pup. Now here’s what I don’t get. What happens to the balls? I am too shy to ask my veterinarian. But I must know! So, I speculate. The Top Ten List of “What Happens To Your Dog’s Castrated Testicles”: 10. Planted in soil and watered to grow new doggies. 09. Used as the shakers inside a Maraca. 08. Can you say “Two Scoops of Raisins?” 07. Chili Con Canine. 06. Strung into rosaries for blind children. 05. The Colonel’s Secret Herb - No. 6. 04. Those Bubble Tea ‘Bubbles’. 03. Falafel filler. 02. Organic Earplugs. And the #1 thing that “Happens To Your Dog’s Castrated Testicles”…. 01. Korean martini garnish! Now we know.... now we know. ↑
Wednesday, August 06, 2003
Relations of Mass Dysfunction
I have heard people say that as you grow older you more and more start to act like your parents. I can’t imagine this happening because I can’t see myself having children. I don’t particularly like them. I didn’t particularly enjoy being a child and I CERTAINLY don’t see myself sharing my stuff with some mouthy, little ingrate. Some of my friends say that I’m just not mature enough to have kids… that I simply don’t have the “urge” yet. I’m sorry, but the only “baby urges” I have are my seemingly frequent cravings for a nice thick cage-raised-baby-veal-chop . “Medium rare please…. nice and bloody… oh yes… yummy…. Just put it right in my mouth…. no need for cutlery or plates….”. Sorry I just drifted for a second there. Oh yes, as I was saying… I don’t want to clean poopy diapers or teach the thing how to vocalize or operate bicycles or secure their shoelaces or any of the millions of meaningless tasks that every other idiot breeder has rejoiced in doing for the last 5000 years. Each of them acting as though they were the first primate to show their offspring how not to play with their own feces. ….Although, a small, formidable army of bitter, resentful miniature-me-types couldn’t be all bad could they? I could train them to rain on parades…to play Devil’s advocates… to be wet-blankets! I could litter the world with my own little throng of ill-tempered revulsion-filled progeny! Dormant sperm AWAKE! Muhahahahahahah! ↑
Friday, August 01, 2003
Far The People, Off The People, Buy The People
What's the difference between being rich and being wealthy? I equate 'rich' with the QUALITY one has in life and I equate 'wealthy' with the QUANTITY one has in life. By my own observation.... One can be wealthy without being rich... take a guy like Kobe Bryant... all kinds of QUANTITY... still fucks around on his wife. One can be rich without being wealthy... Gandhi hardly had clothes to cover his ass, was imprisoned constantly, barely ate and still he managed to free millions of people from the shackles of Imperial rule. But is it possible to be both? Can one be a Pimp Daddy Gandhi? And so my dilemma ensues... ↑
Wednesday, July 30, 2003
In Loo Of...
When I die I want to be cremated. I find the thought of slowly rotting in the dark earth a depressing rite. Not that I will necessarily have thoughts of depression as a corpse. No, those feelings are strictly reserved for our time alive. I don’t want the sanctimonious sprinkling of my ashes off of some picturesque cliff or into the ocean deep… rather, the by-product of my existence should be sprinkled evenly into all of the urinals that so modestly came to my aid in nights of drunken bliss. Those piddle pots were the real heroes in my life… and some of the only truly selfless objects that I ever encountered. "All they are is dust in the wind." - Kansas 1978 ↑
Monday, July 28, 2003
Deliver us from evil
There’s a coffee shop near my office that I frequent on a daily basis. As it is in the ‘heart’ of the financial district, we are sometimes treated to a fine display of Suits. “Suits” of course is the generic term that we use to describe the dolled up ladies and gentlemen who strut around this city like the job they do is somehow making the world a better place. In addition to the flurry of Suits, we also contend with a healthy number of bike couriers. Courier types generally abhor The Suits for their pompousness. The Suits return the revulsion by uncomfortably circumventing the usually disheveled Couriers and by ordering frapped-up coffee drinks that cost more than a courier makes biking the mean streets for an hour. I am somewhere in the middle, so I can offer this observation; Suits need couriers and vice versa. They are both part of the same commercial circle-of-life. “No couriers” mean lost deals by way of ill-timed document delivery and “No Suits” means no livelihood for the couriers. So let’s try to get a long shall we? Suits need to loosen up and stop reviewing every fucking drink that everyone in their party orders….”So what did you get there Gary, a No-Cream-No-Foam-Extra-Shot-Whip-My-Ass-You-Big-Stud-Latte?”…”Why yes Cheryl, you got it right on the head except that it’s a No-Whip-No-Foam-Extra-Shot-Ride-Me-You-Hot-Little-Tease-Cappucino.”. Insert tense, nervous laughter here. Couriers could start by taking a goddamned shower now and then. Do you have any idea what it’s like riding up 14 stories with a man in tights who smells like a litter box? I mean COME ON! Lever 2000 that funky ass. It’s my own little roadmap to peace. ↑
Wednesday, July 23, 2003
If You Please
I took a cab last night. One that I called for, not some random taxi scoping the streets. The driver took almost 20 minutes to get there, in spite of the fact that I was located approximately one minute away from several hospitals where many cabs tend to flock. The driver didn't bother to open my door, leaving me to struggle with two large, heavy bags. The car reeked of fresh and stale cigarette smoke. The driver got annoyed when I told him not to take his planned (and longer) route. I had a $10 bill and a $5 bill in my wallet. The fare was about $5.75. I gave the driver the bill and a toonie. And, after I hauled all my crap out of the back seat, off he sped. Wouldn't you know it, I'd given him the $10 bill. With the loonie, that was about a 108% tip. Luckily, I had enough change to scrape together for this morning's cab ride...with about a $0.20 tip for fast, prompt and courteous service. Who ever said that the scum of the world don't prosper? ↑
Friday, July 18, 2003
Stroke of Luck
I just read an article about a medical study out of Australia that “suggests frequent masturbation by men in their 20s provides protection against prostate cancer later in life.” Wow. You mean that all those years of unabashed self-loving were good for me? I now carry around a copy of the article for occasions when I feel the urge to… practice the preventative procedure for the prostate…. and if I am ‘caught’ in the act, I will simply produce the encrusted printout as a sort of “lechery license” and continue on my merry way citing the penile benefits of my actions. God works in mysterious ways. ↑
Monday, July 07, 2003
NeoBlog
Cool. Blogger re-designed. How lame is it that I'm noticing this now? It probably changed months ago. Alas. A Lass. ↑
Friday, June 27, 2003
Yes, I'm Not.
we recently asked one of our co workers to join us for drinks. he responded by saying: "I may have commitments on that day" ... isn't it absurd to state that one "may have commitments."? how can you be uncertain of having committted to someone or something? shall we come up with a new classification: "conditional commitment"? Whereby you are able to commit without commitment? it is the equivalent of saying: "I assure you with all certainty that my assurance cannot be ascertained for sure". Please feel free to kick me in the face. ↑
Monday, June 23, 2003
Turdy
I turned thirty today. There are so many things I wanted to have accomplished by today. So many things that I should have. And so the list remains…. - grow a fu-manchu styled mustache that dangles past my collarbone - perform the role of Mr. Mistoffelees in a raunchy off-Broadway rendition of “Cats” - wax my choada - eat an entire turkey in one sitting - sew a quilt or charming throw from the trousers of one dozen homeless men - pierce my gums - alternatively dress like Elton John and Mahatma Gandhi every day for a week - punch any one of New Kids On The Block square in the mouth - vandalize some asshole’s perfectly good Porsche - start my own cult - shave my eyebrows - waste away in Margaritaville - hire a troop of talented midgets to crash the Bar/Bat Mitzvah of the son/daughter of a prominent, high profile member of this city’s society - floss - consume an obscene amount of pickled eggs on someone else’s tab - enter into a musical pact with a friend where we promise to play Stairway to Heaven on a tuba at the funeral of whomever dies first - discover a reliable cure for the common hangover - develop and perform a touching interpretive dance routine involving Jello brand gelatin and stilts - find and befriend Emanuel Lewis - invent a new gibberish language and force my future children to speak it - take a pottery class and make earthenware shoes, then learn how to dance a frenzied jig for my friends and family - slay a dragon - start a petition to banish all children from Starbucks - banish my enemies to a black hole - learn how to work a yo-yo with aptitude and finesse - learn how to work with aptitude and finesse and finally…. - lead an honest, wholesome, Christian life ↑
Wednesday, June 11, 2003
Celebrity Square
People often say I resemble Denzel Washington. Either that or Kris Kristofferson. ↑
Thursday, May 08, 2003
Sex Education - the Co-Op Program
On the news this morning: Women accused of sex, rum parties By Scott McCabe, Palm Beach Post Staff Writer Friday, May 2, 2003 Two women -- a Girl Scout registrar and an elementary school worker -- were arrested on charges of throwing alcohol parties for juveniles and having sex with two 13-year-old boys, the Palm Beach County Sheriff's Office said. And what is a Girl Scout registrar and an elementary school worker doing serving alcohol to minors. This is an outrage. Having said that...getting teenage boys drunk to have sex with real women.....JUST HOW HEDIOUS WERE THESE COUGARS???? And how do you organize an event like this knowing that your audience is thirteen year old boys. Do you post a flyer in the lunch room? Maybe a morning PA announcement: "And for all of those interested, the "Booze & Cougars Slamathon" takes place after today's basketball practice. Please sign up with Mrs Jonhston." "Now...let's bow our heads and pray." ↑
Thursday, March 27, 2003
Blogless In The Saddle
Damn job is keeping me too busy to blog. Sad when you have to call at 9:00 p.m. to get the lights turned back on for your floor. Sadder when you have to call with the same request at 11:00 p.m. Seemingly hilarious when the PA system crackles at 11:55 p.m. with the eventual announcement that the building fire alarm system testing will begin in five minutes. ↑
Thursday, March 13, 2003
See! Know Evil.
A wise man (or was it woman?) once said to me: “Friends are a waste of time and money.” And no. This isn’t some outraged letter to the Gods speaking in some figurative tone. No. Wise person. True story. So what have I learned? Well…. First of all... People? Suck. Yes. They do. People use you. Cheat you. However, people are also what make life worth living. Though they can disappoint you to no end they can also show you love and respect. (Unfortunately) the former come in far more numbers than the latter and the former often think that they ARE the latter. Delusional Fucks. Maybe I’ve got the “Dreamer’s Disease”, but I was always told: “Do unto others as you would have done to you.” What a container of shit. I digress. (MY blog. Fuck off.) When you promise someone something and then you don't do it? We're not fucking morons. We remember. And people? I'll say it again... suck. They are out for themselves. They use you. They care more about themselves than they care about you. So wake the hell up. Stop treating everyone like you expect to be treated. Those people who will only call you when they need something... the ones that promise you everything and when they get what they need they give you less than the minimum in return? WE would never be like that would we? But then, when was the last time you did more for someone than they did for you? HONESTLY!? Who do you OWE? Blah! If everyone gave more than they received we wouldn’t be in the shit state we are. So you know what? Don't bother to do your fucking part and keep relying on everyone else to compensate for your lack of effort. Oh, and don't bother to call me. Ever. And most of all…. Have a great day! ↑
Monday, March 10, 2003
Miffed Lift
While the world is enthralled in the prospect of war and goodness and badness and all that is right… I have a FAR more pressing issue that I feel deserves attention. That is, the issue of elevator etiquette. I realize that you feeble-human-shells love your place of work SO DAMNED much that you would bulldoze me down to be the first to board that four-sided, vertically traversing magical ride to your fluorescent-lit, teal-coloured tombs so that you can bang away on a "WINDOWS 98 READY" interface to your souls…. But please… RULES ARE RULES. Perhaps they need to be revisited: THE NEW ELEVATOR RULES FOR THE SOUL: 1. If you see someone running to make the elevator that you have already boarded and you HAVE made eye contact with them, mimic body language that exerts the 'concern' and 'compassion' of trying to press he OPEN button while you ACTUALLY quickly press the CLOSE button while helplessly shrugging as the doors close. 2. If you see someone running to make the elevator that you have already boarded and you HAVE NOT made eye contact with them, pretend to be engaged in some other activity (such as checking the state of your cuticles or the latest news on the closed circuit news wire with which many corporate elevators are now equipped) and simply let the doors close. 3. If YOU are running for an elevator and it closes JUST as you reach the doors, DO NOT attempt to risk your limb by throwing it between the doors or try to re-engage the button… instead, quickly accept defeat and run your fingers through your hair (or any other gesture of equal coolness such as continuing to read the daily newspaper that you were carrying) and step casually away from the now closed doors while looking slowly side-to-side taking a mental assessment of who saw you miss the lift and what potential influence they may have over your career. 4. If you get off on the wrong floor and realize it almost INSTANTLY after stepping off… so quickly in fact that you could easily turn around and re-board… continue on as if it WAS your floor casually glancing at your watch until the doors close (thereby saving face with the load of complete strangers with whom you just traveled). You may then continue your journey via the stairs or next available lift. ** Please note that premature pressing of the 'UP' button may reopen the doors of the elevator you were just on, before it has sufficient time to depart, causing you further embarrassment. 5. If you see someone that you KNOW who is waiting to take the elevator, but you would rather not travel with them… hang around the lobby engaging in inconspicuous but seemingly legitimate behaviour (like taking careful note of the other companies listed on the building directory who share your office tower) until such time the party to avoid has boarded. 6. When approaching a group of people who are either A) ON an elevator or B) Waiting for an elevator, confidently press the ALREADY LIT button to ensure that it has been properly engaged with the professional technique that only YOUR many years of elevator experience can exert. Repeat if necessary. Several times even. This is by no means a comprehensive list of rules, but can serve as the starting point…. The GROUND FLOOR (if you will) for better, more ethical vertical travel everywhere. "13 please". ↑
Friday, March 07, 2003
Sauce for the Gander
George Bush Jr. spoke last night. He spoke of War. He spoke of Casualties. He spoke of defending America. He spoke of ending Evil Dictatorships. He spoke of Weapons of Mass Destruction. He spoke of Patriotism. He spoke of Sacrifice. I'd like to see the live television coverage of his twin daughters signing up as front-line foot soldiers. In fact, I'd like to see all of George and Barbara's grandchildren signing up. No officer-league military service for them, no siree - I want Jr. to put his money where his schoolyard-bully mouth is. Georgie Porgie also spoke of Exile. Now what would George have to say about Mr. Hussein's application for refugee status in Canada? ↑
Wednesday, March 05, 2003
Clauses Infect
I realized today that I drink a lot of coffee. I know this because I pee like 8 times a day. And while this may not be a palatable discussion for our forum... it points to a greater, more universal model... that of cause and effect. While the logic behind cause and effect seems clear: action -> reaction. There is an interesting article I read about it that points out the fallacy of CONFUSING CAUSE AND EFFECT. It sounds silly... but looking back, so does Billy Ray Cyrus. For instance: did the popularity of Billy Ray bring Line Dancing to the mainstream? OR Did the main-streaming of Line Dancing cause Billy Ray to become popular? It just boggles the mind don’t it!? Nuff said. Simple chronological analysis can answer cause and effect conundrums. You simply observe. 1. Drank lots of coffee. 2. Peed. We have a winner. But in terms of social order, it isn’t always so clear. To complicate the issue further, time has a way of blurring the past... sometimes one version says ‘1. Drank coffee. 2. Peed’ and another version says ‘1. Peed. 2. Drank coffee’. So did drinking coffee cause you to pee or did you peeing cause you to drink coffee? Do you see? Do you? We humans are simple creatures. We like things to be spoon fed to us.. like ice cream and an assortment of jams. We don’t like to dig too deeply... because we are lazy and usually don’t like what we find. We like easy. We like pretty. We like simple. For God’s sake, we liked Billy Ray Cyrus. All I’m saying is: try not to confuse cause and effect. Think for yourself... and drink Coke®. ↑
Wednesday, February 26, 2003
Wednesday, February 19, 2003
Learning Disability
Yesterday, I saw two children fighting on the playground. It was such a stark contrast from the jovial mood shared by all other kids enjoying everything the park had to offer. The dispute was over a slide...and who would be first in line to use it. As the frustration mounted and their baby fat cheeks flushed with anger, the two children began an exchange of highly imaginative threats....often referring to the size and strength of their respective "Dad"s who would "beat you up". This noisy exchange soon attracted the attention of the other kids who seemed to forget about their happy afternoon in the park and instead, chose to surround this duelling duo to listen in on the conversation. I noticed a little girl. Big, curious eyes played ping pong with two boys as they took turn shouting. Her thumb in her mouth...and her face frowning, it was obvious that she could not understand why these boys looked so angry. Soon enough...the shouting came to a stop as the first punch landed. More punches followed and the two boys ended up on the ground, pulling each other's hair and screaming in a fit of rage. The little girl began to cry. Some kids seemed to be possesed by this fight...they cheered the boys on as they rolled around in the gravel. Others began to look away. The little girl cried. I smiled to myself and felt sorry for scarred little girl. I thought: "Ahhh...how often we forget when we were kids.... how unable we were to share something we really wanted.... just how unreasonable we became when what we wanted was out of reach.... but in the end...we would always crave friendship and happiness...we would always say: i'm sorry" Sure enough.... After an exasparating struggle with neither side emerging victorious...with neither side establishing their rights to the highly coveted slide, the boys hugged and began to play as if they never fought. The little girl was smiling now...her big eyes reflecting care free kids returning to joyful abandon. I smiled to myself and began a brisk walk home...still trying to understand how our civilized humanity blessed with centuries of knowledge, innovation and advanced communications is no more ahead as a collective than two highly strung, 8 year old boys on a playground...unable to compromise, unable to negotiate...unable to collaborate for greater good. It seems we are going to war. And although we realize the futility of our self destructive behaviour but refuse to contemplate it like stubborn children who know "good" from "bad" and refuse to give in.....we are going to war. At the end of the day.... given the choice, children thirst for love and friendship above everything else. Do we, as adults, have a cause that is more worthy? ... Later on that evening, I watched a detailed report of US Air Force bombing in Iraq. "...the unintended target was a....." Playground. ↑
Tuesday, February 18, 2003
Optical Opium
War... Is imminent... It isn't intelligent in its immorality... It is injurious, intimidating...ineffective. Insurrectionary ideas identifying its insanity? Instantly identified... Instantly interdicted. Interested? You’re watching CNN.... ↑
Monday, February 17, 2003
How Big is Big?
From what I've seen on TV, I know that starving artists...or rather Starving Artists are coming soon to a hotel location near me and that they sell sofa-sized paintings. Just how big is that? Is there a universal unit of measure known as a "sofa"? What is its abbreviation, "sf"? Is it part of the Imperial system or is it metric or something else entirely? I just always wanted to know. ↑
Wednesday, February 05, 2003
Food for Thought
You know you are disillusioned with the corporate world when you actually consider becoming a starving artist. Before I make this radical career shift however, I would like to interview some starving artists to better understand the Starving Arts industry. "Exactly when do you recommend I stop eating?" "Will my artistic integrity be compromised if I snack in hiding?" "Define starving" Above questions come to mind immediately. I can also share with them some of my own, brief yet intense encounters with hunger and examine the impact they had on the quality of my artistic output. "This one time...I took 5 hits of acid in as matter of minutes. I was so high I forgot to eat for the remainder of the day. The intense high produced surely by lack of nourishment made me lose conciousness in the middle of the dining room floor...curled intensely in a fetal position. It was beatiful. I would like to add that I did have a sizeable breakfast that morning and I must have threw it up because there was a puddle of half digested jumbo sized eggs, sprinkled with bacon bits.....positioned next to my head." Surely the loss of conciousness probably meant I took my non-eating venture a little too far that day. Should have probably had a little snack. This and other considerations run through my mind as I slowly fade away from the corporate world and into the frail, outstretched hands of the starving artist community who whispers: "Where is the Cashflow Report?" ... "Huh?" ... Surely, a starving artist would not utter such a remark. In all likelyhood, a human inquiring about the location of a report detailing the company's cashflow would probably make him an employee of the company. A more senior employee. ... "Are you.....sleeping?!" ... I raised my head of my desk and turned to face my boss. ↑
Tuesday, February 04, 2003
Afterlife Strife
I wondered today if I am destined to be eternally damned. While I’m not the faithful sort, I’m certainly not a sinner..or am I? Hence the internal dilemma of which I blog. Vanity: I live in a one bedroom apartment... I barely have a toilet let alone a mirrored armoire in there. Envy: I live in better conditions (despite the fact that my bathroom doesn’t even have a vanity) than 99% of the earth’s inhabitants. Gluttony: I consume what I need... That is, 5GB or less a month, lest my ISP charge me $0.25 per MB thereafter. Amen. Lust: see faithful. Wrath: I love all creatures great and small. It’s well documented... yes, it is.. BECAUSE I FUCKING SAID IT IS! Greed: Ha! My paycheck tells the tale on this one. Sloth: Ok, one out of 7 ain’t bad. Pray for me. ↑
Monday, February 03, 2003
Prawn...gone
…and while I promised myself when we began this little project that I would never use it to just dispense random brain debris… I feel that the world should know: I could eat an entire shrimp ring right now. ↑
Wednesday, January 29, 2003
Tuesday, January 21, 2003
Pressed for Time
Little could I have imagined all those years ago, as I made fun of the Corby Trouser Press whilst travelling in London, that I would be confessing this to you today. Not only did I mock the ads, I presented this ludicrous and totally gratuitous appliance as the ultimate waste of money and space in the personal appliance category. To the Englishman I was staying with. This took place just before I noticed his mid-range Corby tucked neatly in the corner of the room. So, during my most recent stay in London (the OTHER one, trust me) I was rather surprised to find the wall-mounted Corby in my (upgraded to) Executive Floor room. More shockingly, I couldn't wait to see if it really worked. Damn! Then was disappointed that my stretchy synthetic pants would melt to a horrific pile of goo if I actually tried to use it. Double damn! I was faced with the overwhelming urge to purchase a pair of woolen pants I didn't need. ↑
Friday, December 20, 2002
Cheese Whiz-dom
Yesterday in a flurry of thoughts, it occurred to me that wisdom is simply observation. It’s the ability to step away from the pile and recognize it as a pile. “Hey, it’s a pile.” It’s actually the same principle that humour is based on. That Jewish comedian who had his own hit comedy show there…. He was a master of observation. All he would do was simply SAY… what everybody already KNOWS. ….and that’s funny. Ironically, in observing this, I show wisdom…. Which is the ability observe. So, I have observed that observing is wise, making me…. wise…or, an observer. Absurd. ↑
Thursday, December 19, 2002
Thinking Inside the Box
I got a voicemail yesterday from my former half-boss. Or maybe it was from half my former boss. Not sure of the correct terminology here. I left my last job well over six months ago. It took them until yesterday to follow up about how I charged my new business cards to the old department. They'd known about it since October. So far it's taken one voicemail and two e-mails to confirm that yes, they should charge the cards to the new department. The day's not over yet. This was the second managerial act they performed during my entire stint as their insubordinate. Is this how they maintain half-employment? ↑
Thursday, December 12, 2002
Epiphany
I just walked past a woman who was meticulously sketching a snow covered tree. She was doing so on the glass door to her office using a bright green Crayola marker. It was EXACTLY at this moment that I realized how much I hate this time of year. How much I hate the parties and lunches and everything green and red and snowy and religious. The phoniness of greeting cards and decorations and retail and tacky sweaters. The reams of shimmery, glimmery festivated shrapnel that sear everyone’s senses to the point where once intelligent people have been reduced to drunk-on-punch, rosy cheeked humanoid shells paying homage to something that they’ve never known or seen. It’s a festering potluck of the damned. ↑
Wednesday, December 11, 2002
Valu-Mart
Today I was mocking the Financial Company that employs me. A Vice President walked by, listened to my ranting and said in a robotic tone: "You know, there is value in working for a corporation." And walked away. Those were the most inspiring leadership words I have ever heard. I love you corporation. You give me value. I will be with you forever. And the day I profess my love for you to others: "There is value in working for a corporation" That day...you will know You have one more devoted hampster. ↑
Souled Out
I am reading a fictitious book right now about an editor who discovers the ULTIMATE self-help book. Actually, I’m not reading it RIGHT NOW… I’m typing RIGHT NOW… but you get the picture. And the book itself isn’t actually fictitious… I mean, it EXISTS… the STORY is fictitious. With that said, I pose this question to the universe: “Has anyone, in the history of self-help books, ever read something that inspired them to help themselves? I mean REALLY help themselves? To change their lives… and not just the bullshit quotes you hear on infomercials or read on the back cover of these pages of self-proclaimed inspiration.” Realistically, self-help books help those who publish and write them… by making them rich. Has anyone REALLY received life-changing-soul-nourishment from any volume of symbolic text-based Soup? Yet, people buy them fanatically…. because, hey, no one ever chokes to death on Soup. ↑
Tuesday, December 10, 2002
Rage Against The Latrine
There was little I could have done to prepare myself for the disheveled souls and the dishonest stench of the men’s restroom on the IT floor of this black tower. Not even the skillful prose of J.R.R. Tolkien in all his middle-earth-imagery could have told this tale of sadness and funk. And now…. this, this is my home. ↑
Thursday, December 05, 2002
Holiday Office Sing-Along
Christmas Carols for Your Psychiatrically Challenged Co-Workers: Schizophrenia --- Do You Hear What I Hear? Multiple Personality Disorder --- We Three Queens Disoriented Are Dementia --- I Think I'll be Home for Christmas Narcissistic --- Hark the Herald Angels Sing About Me Manic --- Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and Office and Town and Cars and Busses and Trucks and Trees and Fire Hydrants and...... Paranoid --- Santa Claus is Coming to Get me Borderline Personality Disorder --- Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire Personality Disorder --- You Better Watch Out, I'm Gonna Cry, I'm Gonna Pout, Maybe I'll Tell You Why Obsessive Compulsive Disorder --- Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells... (As forwarded to me) ↑
Monday, November 25, 2002
Mundane Mourning
Caffeine is the religion of the masses. The O marx the spot. (C) anyone? I miss my MSN. Gone are the days of (D) & (F)s. No more ({)s and (K)s. But what I miss most is my friend :|. I am a gaping void Where loneliness resides. The song in my heart turns mournful and off-key. Where have they gone? Where have they gone? ↑
Monday, November 18, 2002
Anthropomorphicing
Headline: "Snowfall Irks City" How does a city express its irkedness? And, more importantly, will this finally get rid of the stench from the garbage worker's strike four months ago? ↑
Friday, November 15, 2002
Energeezer
Today I was run over by a fancy , battery powered wheelchair. I felt bad. How does that work? ↑
Monday, November 04, 2002
Disconnect
Now that we have hands free cellular phones, I find it impossible to distuinguish between schizophrenics and entepreneurs. ↑
Thursday, October 31, 2002
Bay-ge Street
I ran into my old boss today. I was dressed up for Hallowe'en - he, being the Director, was not. I asked if anybody in the old department was dressed up. The boss snorted and said "What a boring bunch of people!!" Is it better that he recognize the truth about his subordinates and let it be - or should he set the example of creativity, holiday spirit and proof of some mental functioning? Hmmm. ↑
Wednesday, October 30, 2002
Lettuce Pray
I went to Mr Sub for lunch. Ordered a small souvlaki sub and a side of greek salad. The attendant asked: "What you want on salad, sir?" in an Arabic accent. I pondered this question and realized I did not know what comprises a Greek Salad. I know how it tastes and how it looks but I have no knowledge of its ingredients. Wait a minute, I thought, why should I know what goes in to a Greek Salad? This question should not even be asked of me. How dare he. What if I wanted to do an oil change and the mechanic said: "Sure...what's involved in an oil change?". That's absurd. I trust these people to know how to do their job. Why would he ask me how to throw together something that is on THEIR menu. My temper suddenly flared. I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him over the salad bar. "You fucking guy....why did you ask me what goes into a Greek Salad?!" I shouted right into the Sandwhich Artist's face. "You dont touch me...crazy guy....you leave the store!!!" he yelled, his voice cracking, his eyes wide open in sheer panic. "Oh...I'll leave the store...dont you worry about that....but first, I want my fucking Greek Salad!" I push him head first into the Salad Bar " Make it now!!" "Ok ok....I make...I make!!!" the Sandwhich Artist was on his knees, sobbing and waving his hands above his head as if he was trying to clear this bad dream. He got to his feet and began fumbling with the lettuce. His hands were shaking, his lips moving quickly as he recited prayers in a foreign language. The salad in the making was not looking well. It was more of a desperate throwing together of random ingredients rather than a genuine Greek Salad. The Sandwhich Artist packaged his creation and slid it towards me across the counter. I picked it up. Examined it closely....smelled it. Then threw it at him. He stepped back.. off balance....completely caught of guard. I used it to my advantage. I lunged forward and threw him right into the condiment stand. He was down on the ground, rolling around with lettuce, feta cheese and mayonaise on his face. I began throwing whole wheat buns at him while he layed on the floor, trying to cover his head. "AAAAAAAA....AAAAA...AAAAAA" was what cames out of his mouth. Pathetic. I stood over him. "OPA! Motherfucker" I sneered at him. ... "Sir" "Sir" "Sir....Hello...what you want on salad!!!" The Sandwhich Artist snaps impatiently. "Ah...yes....umm...maybe some feta cheese....lettuce and....mayonnaise?" I stutter. "Mayonnaise?" He laughs " You put mayonnaise on salad..." I smile uncomfortably and feel my cheeks flushing. "Ok...here is your mayonnaise salad sir!!!!" The Sandwhich Artist exclaims sarcastically, just loud enough for the Sub shop staff and all of the customers to hear. Mr. Sub erupts in a collective outburst of uncontrollable laughter. I quickly grab the container and run out on the street. I can still hear the muffled laughs behind me as I run. "Who the hell puts mayonnaise on their salad..." my mind keeps asking over and over...I cannot believe my own mind is mocking me. "Why would you put..." ... I never felt the impact of the Yonge St bus. Neither do I remeber the bus going over me. But if I could have produced one more thought before surrendering to a bus, it would have been: "What is OPA, anyway?" ↑
Tuesday, October 22, 2002
Arrested Development
I find that when i get pulled over, the police officers will often enjoy a casual joke or two. It was interesting how the same didnt apply to the Riot Squad. ↑
Monday, October 21, 2002
New Work Order
I noticed people are often afraid of consequences. Most of my coworkers dread missing a timeline and begin to act like paranoid schizophrenics when the magic date approaches. It is almost as if their life was in danger if this deadline was not met. I, on the other hand, take my deliverables in a light hearted manner. I believe that working in a giant financial institution allows one to move along at a leisurely pace with no real threat in case of failure. Heck...I've been doing this for years. Until I hear terror filled shrieking....until I see blood splashing all over the wall...until I witness ultimate devastation and mind boggling horror .... i gotta tell ya..... this fucking spreadsheet in front of me WILL be late. you want me to complete deliverables on time? Start wasting motherfuckers. Cut their limbs off and smash steel chairs over their head. Kick Joe Smith in the ribs and hold him by his throat....dangling outside of the 41st Floor window. Organize a "Bring your Kids to Work" day, then kidnap the little fuckers. Plant explosives in cubicles. Until then... Dont expect me to fear missing a deadline. ↑
Friday, October 18, 2002
Pole Reversal
I am swamped with incredibly boring reading right now, so to alleviate this pain my brain suddenly said the following (and created a mental visual): "What if trees could lift up a "leg" and pee on dogs?" Sometimes my brain thinks dumb thoughts when it gets bored. (Reprinted without permission of the author.) ↑
Friday, October 11, 2002
...And the curtain fell.
Fly free, little birds...at least to a new perch where they clean the paper in the bottom of your cage more than once every ten months. And eat seeds. Oh...and HAPPY THANKS GIVING... ↑
Wednesday, October 02, 2002
It Depends
I was listening to some commercial radio yesterday. The announcer yelled excitedly: "This is your cue to call !!!!". For a minute, I grew concerned that the listeners out in radio land might hear "cuticle" instead. However, my concerns about confusing a brodcaster with an esthetician quickly vanished when I realized I soiled myself. ↑
Tuesday, October 01, 2002
U Down with Oh...Pee Pee?
I noticed that a lot of rappers wear bandaids on their face. I get all confused when I see gun toting hoodrats wearing a bandaid. Since when did we associate medical supplies with the latest urban fashion trends anyway. I'm going to take this one step further. I'm gonna step out on the street with a catheter. You dumb mutherfuckers. Watch out now. I'll pee on you. ↑
Monday, September 30, 2002
Hollywood Square.
One thing that might be cool to say at a party is: "People tell me I look like Wesley Snipes" Just make sure you don't add: "...Or Tom Hanks". ↑
Miss Understanding
At a recent meeting, I was outlining the structure of the corporate intranet to some of our employees. At one point, a middle aged banker said: "I'm sorry. I'm just not sure I understand what you're saying...." he interrupted me with a whiny tone. "Me na fi care bout the bati idiat bwoy chi chi man......cho.....mi come here fi drink milk, mi noh come here fi count cow" I responded while waving my hands like Busta Rhymes and balancing myself on one foot like Shabba Ranks. ... I stopped and explained: "Just wanted to put that whole "not sure I understand what you're saying" business in perspective for ya." "May I continue?" ... "Alright then" ↑
Thursday, September 26, 2002
What do you do?
At this point in time, my professional title is longer than a list of my accomplishments. ↑
Tuesday, September 24, 2002
Flower Power
I have done nothing for the last six months. I have come in late and left early. People have told me it will ruin my reputation at the bank. I laughed and said: "My poopie is stinky" They replied: "Our poopies smell like flowers" ...then scattered like mice, back to their cubicles. ↑
Friday, September 20, 2002
"Double Spacing" It has been brought to my attention by my coworker that I need to have double spacing when writing a blog, What the hell is going on here??? I
never read about this in the faq or help section of this website. The problem is not with my lack of double spacing, its with me. This is why I harbour extreme hatred and disgust for my coworkers. Why is it that they always have to correct you? Make you feel like a worthless piece of trash, first disgarded by your mother at birth only to be crapped on later in life at work. Well, I have a rebuttal. Tell me again about the double spacing and I will reply by stabbing you with my pen in your ocular cavity, I bet you won't correct me again. ↑
"Power Suit" Only half an hour left before I get to leave the office for the weekend! I always keep an eye on my watch on Fridays, with every passing second ticking by so slowly, it seems like my overseer boss has purposefully slowed down time to make my last half hour drag by. Its like the few seconds people describe experiencing before a major car accident where everything slows down and they succumb to a trace like dream state. The difference is that i'm not having a car accident, rather I fantasize about the ways that I could destroy the company and ruin some of my coworkers lives. Take last week for example, I entered my trance at the normal time, and I found myself in the elevator with my boss and several coworkers. The elevator was also packed with executives whom were all wearing power suits, talking about how they were going to golf on the weekend at their expensive members only courses and drive their brand new Navigators around the city. I had a major problem with their scenarios and immediately hit the emergency stop button on the elevator, this was no longer going to be an elevator, rather a tomb. I'm about to start getting medieval and BEEP BEEP BEEP. Fuck, my godamn casio watch alarm goes off and I am snapped back to the cruel reality of my existence. Its time to go home. In the elevator ride down I smile like a pyschopath at all the others, cackling to myself, thinking about the fury and devastation that could have been. Why do they avoid eye contact with me? I wonder some times...
↑
Friday, September 13, 2002
"Hollow Men"
I work in Toronto's Financial District. Impressive, intimidating skyscrapers overwhelm Toronto's downtown creating a sense of world class, modern metropolitan center. Couple of days ago, in the lobby of my tower...a stage was set up and a little jazz band played some soulful, funky melodies to soothe the Financial District souls. As me and bredrins stopped to bob our heads to the sexy vibes and smooth rhythms, I noticed that most people walked past without allowing themselves to stop and breathe in the funk. In a rush, they would nervously return a forced smile to the jazz singer who beamed at them with genuine, jazz like grin. They tripped over the wires connecting the band to the speakers. They huffed and puffed as the stage took away precious "I'm-in-a-mad-rush" space and it seemed like the messengers of music who came to soothe the souls were....an obstacle. The soulful music that should be able to "soothe a savage a beast" took no such effect on the busy, corporate folk. Today, in the lobby of my tower, the jazz band is gone. No more soothing melodies to inspire reflection and a fresh perspective. Instead, we have a display of the biggest, fanciest, and most luxurious SUV's available on the market today. The Navigators, Denalis and Expeditions seems to take up a lot more space than the Jazz Band. These late model luxury cars do not make music but they do convey a loud and clear message: "We are a ton of twisted steel with sex appeal". The ultimate symbols of capitalism and its excess, the arrogance, the size....these monster, gold trimmed SUV are almost saying: "Fuck you....Go in debt for me right now you fucking impotent banker.....How else will you distinguish yourself....and show everyone, huh?! Shut the fuck up and buy me now....Pshhh...look at you....pathetic.....look at me...i'll make you look good!" The balding bankers are drawn like a magnet. The lobby is full of inquisitive middle aged men, opening and closing every door, hatch and orifice of the SUV on display. They are marvelling at the still object and shaking their heads in awe. The same bankers who ran past the Jazz Band. The same bankers who refused to stop to let their sould simmer in soulful melodies. The same bankers who would not exchange a genuine greeting with the Jazz singer.... The same bankers are now taking their time to exchange pleasantries with a Lincoln Navigator. ↑
Thursday, September 12, 2002
Tuesday, September 10, 2002
Ding Dong
Impending wedded feebness will permit two lucky feebs to escape for three glorious weeks. ↑
"New Kid on the Block"
I have not written in a long time. It it a case of writer's block? Maybe. Writers have the best job. When they fail, they can blame it on "writer's block" and everyone understands. "Shhh.....leave him alone" they whisper "He has writer's block......." Writers mess up their hair, their dirty lenses sit low on the nose of the unshaven face. They act agitated and snap at everyone, including their publisher. Well...something has to be done about this special treatment. For instance, I work at a large financial institution where I cannot have a Business Analyst block. "Is that report ready yet?" my boss storms in. "Argh....." I pull at my hair while throwing legal paper around in a dramatic fashion "I have a Business Analysis block....I cannot just fackin bang out reports like that...What the fack is wrong with you people....this is not a game...this is my soul you're talking about......GET OUT!!!! GET OUT OF MY CUBICLE!!!!" ... My boss stands there dumbfounded. The silence is rather uncomfortable. "So....what do you reckon the UN should do about the unrest in the Middle East" i ask quickly while nervously sipping on my cold coffee. "You're fired. Gather your things and security will escort you out" "Can I take my Swingline stapler?" "No." So next time you run into Clancy and he says something about writer's block, tell him "I have a horse cock". It rhymes. It should also puzzle him for long enough so you can knee him in the ribs and throw him out of the window. ↑
Tuesday, August 20, 2002
Wednesday, August 14, 2002
I like long walks on the beach and...bling bling.
I had a coffee with a female friend. Here is the conversation transcript: "Find a man yet?" "Nnnope." ... "Soo...no prince charming in shining armor?" "Nope" ... "How about just shining armor?" AHAHAHAHAHAHA! AAAA....sigh. Ahem. Good times. ↑
Tuesday, August 13, 2002
Why Hate Paris
A Rant in One Breath Ah Paris - city of lights, culture and poopie. Everyone has lights. Everyone has culture - even though the Parisians, in their xenophobic fury, might not recognize it. But poopie? Nobody has it like Paris! Why ever would a city want to remove the love gifts of their most highly regarded citizens? The beings that are treated far better than the children of its adult population, better than the unfortunate impoverished locals and don't even consider the treatment of immigrants (remember - the people who come from the countries you colonized and looted for centuries?). No, far better to let visitors and citizens alike step, fall and slide in the digestive remains of the beloved French canine! Humans should feel honoured to breathe in the vapours emanating from this fecal festival - particularly in the heat of August when one can almost taste it in the air! Some may think that the Louvre is the epitome of French culture - but the true Parisian knows that the true visual splendours of the city are to be found in the streets, on the sidewalks and in the parks (where dogs alone are allowed on the grass). Vive la poopie! Have you got any Grey Poop-on? ↑
Thursday, August 01, 2002
Party Poopers
The World Youth Day was an event filled with misconceptions. First off, it was 4 days. Second off, contrary to popular belief shared by just me....Pilgrims do indeed poop. OH BOY! Do they ever? They produce a lot of poopie!. The final day of world Youth Day featured a big mass where 800 000 youths prayed, cried, ate sausages and pooped. The sanitary staff in charge of disposing of the portable outhouses, blinded by the power of God, decided to dump the pilgrim poopie into the sewage system. "Hello Sewage System...here is an instant influx of poopie from 800 000 pilgrims" "But...I....errr...umm....too much poopie....I....cannnot......." the Sewage System stuttered as best as a sewage pipe can..... if it could. "BAH! Silence! Take the poopie!" replied the sanitary workers who were blinded by God and overwhelmed by the odour of feces of the faithful. "OK." So the poopie entered the Sewage System, and alas.....the Sewage System's worst fears became true. It could not handle all the poopie. So the pilgrim poopie spread and fludded a nearby furniture store owned by a Jewish gentleman with a long beard. He was enraged and yelled at the heavens "My store has been flooded with poopie from 800 000 pilgrims" But the heavens would never hear him. For a large plane flew by at that exact moment, stifling his angry outcry. Mind you, the heaven could probably see him and everything that happened but....how would you feel if YOU saw EVERYTHING...ALL THE TIME. I think even you would look away once in a while and swallow that tear. What would God do now anyway? Reverse the poopie? This is pilgim poopie....who knew it would decide to invade a furniture store owned by a Jewish gentleman with a big beard. What will he do now? All of these expensive furnishings covered in fecal matter. How about a "Holy Shit Clearance"? HAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA......ahem. or "Flushing out Furniture Sale!!!" HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAAAA....cough...ahem....sorry. "Buy a Love Seat and get a free, matching Toilet seat!" AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHA........wow.......that's some good times right there. Regardless of what he decides to do, it's still funny how he yelled at the heavens. Like....what is that? ↑
Tuesday, July 30, 2002
Vague plague
Generally speaking, people rarely speak generally. Have you noticed that? People have specific things to say; “I want a TALL VANILLA LATTE”, “I have to go to the GROCERY STORE”, “I need to take a MASSIVE DUMP”. Would the world be different if we were all very general? Go to Starbucks and say “Yeah, I’d like a drink”. They’d make you whatever they want. Tell your family “I’m going.”. They’d wonder where you are. Tell your friends and co-workers “I need to take a massive dump.”. Well, okay that last one isn’t the best example, but you get the idea. Try it out today. Try to be very general and see if you can change the world into one where people think that they know what you want and make assumptions about you…. Where they have to go on little or no information to make a decision rather than delve for the truth. The world is ALREADY like that you say? Oh, I see that you’ve started. ↑
Monday, July 29, 2002
Ass and wedge
I am a great lover of sandwiches. Though I have never made love to a sandwich, well, not that I’m willing to admit. Okay, can we just leave my personal life of this?! As I was saying, I thoroughly enjoy the concept of nestling tasty foodstuffs between bread. Adding condiments for flavour and consuming said creations with scrumptious beverages. Recently, in an attempt to lose weight, I have abstained from the consummation of bread, making my sandwich creation rather challenging. I have tried to substitute for bread. I wouldn’t recommend that you try a ham and cheese on matzo. I would be lying if I said that roast beef served on two slabs of raw ground meat doesn’t give you tremendous gas. Who knows how different the world would have been if when asked ‘the peasants have no bread, what will they eat?’ Marie Antoinette would have replied ‘let them eat breadless sandwiches’. My guess is that there would have been little or no difference to the course of history. Ok then, cake it is. ↑
Thursday, July 25, 2002
Indulge Yourself
Why am I surprised to discover that The Catholic Church has wholeheartedly embraced e-commerce??? Who says religion and commerce don't mix? Well, a few do. A few...never have. ↑
Wednesday, July 24, 2002
Bank - The Biography.
I love working for the bank. Brilliant! Maybe not the people who work here now but I mean the people who first got together to start the first bank. When I'm not pretending that my pen is a laser sword and my cubicle is a space ship, I try to imagine how the bank first started. Here is a written representation of what I imagine: "Hello...my name is Charles" a good looking middle aged gentleman greets a young man on the street. "Hello there......Charles" the man responds with sarcasm, emphasizing "Charles" with a british accent. "What can I do for you.....Charles?" "Please give me all the coins in your possesion...I will now hold on to them for you" smiles Charles and extends his hand. "What?!...You want me to give you MY money?" the young man laughs hysterically "Why the hell would I do that?!" "You have nowhere to put it. I will take your money and give most of it to Eddie...he needs some cash to grow his country store and..." "What?!" screams the agitated young man. "Yes...Do no fret now...I will scribble on a piece of parchment exactly how many coins you gave me....it will all be written here" Charles becomes defensive and fumbles with the parchment. "Are you for real?!" the young man cannot believe his ears. "Yes..I assure you I am of substance....these coins..if you let me hold on to them long enough...I might give you an extra coin....maybe...probably not though" the nervous Charles stutters and manages to smile with utmost uncertainty. "You better step before this mocassin enters your rear" the young man points to his sandal. "Before I step....Can I interest you in these?" Charles opens whatever was used as a briefcase back then to reveal lots and lots of coins. A lot more than the young man had ever seen before. "But yes....I....would never be able to gather this sort of bling bling" gasps the young man "That is a lot of pesos, essay" "Are you a Mexican?" asks Charlie, suddenly surprised. "No...why?!" "You just said essay" "I know...that's just something I saw on BET" "But TV doesnt exist yet" "Oh yeah...I forgot...I'm sorry" "Thats OK" ... The uncomfortable silence is suddely broken. "So are you interested?" Charles asks revealing the coins. "Yes...what do I need to take this bling bling?" the young man can't believe his eyes. "You take these coins. Spend them all. Go crazy.....give them back whenever you want...once a telephone is invented, I will have a broad call you to remind you" Charles smiles " And you wont even notice, just how much debt you are in because you will have all your life to pay it off....coin here coin there...it's all good." "Great...it's a deal!" the young man is eager to get his hands on the coins. "Welcome to my bank!" Charles extends his hand with a wide smile. "What? What is a bank...." the young man whispers without taking his eyes off of the coins. "Nothing...I said skank" Charles clealed his throat. And that is how I think the first bank started. Although deposit accounts were not a big hit at first, Credit sure was. Eventually, people began to just leave all of their money with Charles. Charles's legacy continue today, except nobody asks you to hand over coins anymore. Neither does the bank give you coins. In fact, trying to hand coins over to a bank teller as a deposit results in mocking, ridicule and laughter reminiscent of a hyena. I know this first hand. ↑
On a rope
It occurs to me that blog rhymes with flog. And flog I shall. But not right now. Instead, bask in my clever prose. BASK I SAID! That’s better. (nervous laugh) Ehehehe.. heh.. Once upon a time, the head of a large international organization came to town to greet his fanatical supporters. He was old and wise, and close to retirement. I asked a several of the young men on the subway why they had made this pilgrimage to our city... why they had travelled so far and so long at such a great expense to themselves, their families and their churches. "Pussy" was the common response. God bless. ↑
Tuesday, July 23, 2002
Homeless are Hot.
The last couple of weeks have been unusually hot and humid. I have perspired profusely and at the same time wondered: What do we do for the homeless in the summer time? OH when it's winter time...we have vans, and portable heaters and shelters and hot soup and coffee and newspapers have front page pictures of homeless people who don't have homes! But in the summer.... We think we tackled the issue of homelessness. Maybe so. But we haven't at all. We serve hot godamn chicken noodle soup to a homeless guy who is sweating like a guy who perspires a lot. We scoop them up from the shade and throw them in the old, non air conditioned Salvation Army vans and rescue them to a humid shelter filled with other hot homeless people....OH...but we are helping the homeless. Have you ever put sun tan lotion on a homeless person's back? Have you offered them your Iced Cappucino? Have you fanned them with your suitcase until your train arrives? HuH? I don't think you have. And if you have then I'm sorry. ↑
Brushes with Brakeless
This feeb is gone, but not lost. This feeb is overwhelmed and inundated, but not lost. This feeb enjoyed close contact with a taxicab this morning. The taxicab driver failed to look ahead before initiating vehicular movement. This feeb uttered some choice bits of advice whilst holding onto the hood in order to maintain an upright position. This feeb is happy to be neither marked with tire tread nor squished into the tar like Tom the Toad once was. To have then been stomped on, yet again, by eager members of the so-called universal church would have just been further trauma and humiliation. ↑
Monday, July 22, 2002
Mundane morning
We’ve lost two feebs. There’s a lady down the hall who laughs like a hyena. I haven’t had a coffee yet. My eyes are slimy from the shitty smog in this horrid city. I burned myself ironing my shirt this morning. I’m not going on a vacation for 55 more days. My dog has bad breath. I have bad breath. Is it Friday yet? ↑
Friday, July 12, 2002
Hamsterdamn
My boss told me I could be "a little more proactive". Really , eh? How about you shut the fuck up?! You like that? Ya? Ahem.....Sorry about that. I have only been here a year...I know. But in that year I have done many things...things that are worth a lot of money and time. I have watched others drink tea, standing by the filing cabinet all day...and taking 8 hours to execute simple tasks, which take me (a young, sprung IT mofo)....1/8th of that time. I have asked to be recognized for the work I do. I was told that 'tings are in the works'. Meanwhile, the old, computer illiterate hamsters continue to drink tea, yap about bullshit and make more money that me. And all I get is promises. I could just see my boss, beaming with joy to her boss "And we got this done and that done...and guess what? We only pay him this much!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA". Fuck. So you know what? SInce my last unfruitful meeting with my boss, I have decided to become like the old hamsters. Good old 70 % effort. Some may say: "You are only hurting yourself" Well I say : "That may be true but at least....in the...I...ummm....well..ummm...they...don't....I have a small peepie." ↑
Thursday, July 11, 2002
East Side Mario
Do you ever just feel like rolling a big fat spliff, lighting it up, sitting back and not smoking it? Me neither. Thats why I am here with some mo fresh rhymes for you to peep. Y'all ready? "Just go already" growls an old grumpy man, sitting at the bar covered by a thick cloud of his pipe smoke."Gee Whiz...back in the day we would rap without axing" The old man has a point. My rhymes make you sway back and forth like Stevie Wonder Even Ray Charles could see me coming down like the thunder just something to ponder, i'm a man at work who easily places other rappers down under stuttering amateurs spit all over the mic but my saliva fuels my tongue with rhymes that'll take a bite... and no antidote will save you from my deadly venom people say in some of my photographs i look just like Lenin most of the Beatles songs were written by John Lennon but in broad daylight he got shot by some lemon Paul McCartney couldnt carry the load some people claim he never crossed the infamous Abbey Road when a hick family moves it says "Oversized Load" nowadays we dont write novels, we type machine code nowadays we let the Bible teachings erode we in technology mode until the Gods Reload. Peace! No crowd roaring this time. They seem to be reflecting on my rap, which I admit, got a little philosophical near the end. This is refreshing. Having been killed after a number of my perfomances, I am now enjoying the sight of thousands of people.....standing in silence and reflecting. "Let's fuck him up!!!" I hear a faint scream from the back. The crowd errupts into a sudden roar, reminiscent of the medieval armies clashing in a field. They rush the stage, absolutely pulverizing everything in its way. This happens so suddenly...I am still standing there with my peace sign in the air. I catch a glimpse of the old man sitting at the bar. He is shaking his head as if this horror unravelled before him many times. The crowd ran over me, driving the microphone stand through me like a stake and chanting "fuck him up! fuck him up!" The old man finished his drink. He threw a couple of coins on the bar, put his hat on and proceeded to walk slowly toward the exit. Just before exiting through the saloon-style swing doors, he turned to me, tipped his hat with one hand and showed me three fingers with the other. "Huh?" I gasped because I had a microphone stand drilled through me I was about to die from internal bleeding and head trauma. "Eeeeeeaaaast Siiiiiiiiiiiiiide, you motherfucker" he growled and proceeded to cough uncontrollably. "Hmmm...east side" I thought It's true. ↑
Wednesday, July 10, 2002
Bored Games
If life doesn't offer a game worth playing, then play risk instead. [Anna K. D'Angelo] ↑
Monday, July 08, 2002
Salivation Army
Being a succesful young man like me allows for a stupendous, lavish lifestyle that never lacks excitement. Fast cars, fast women, fast money, fast drugs......man....you couldnt possibly imagine just how much better my life is than yours. I'm just sitting back and enjoying the ride. Mmmmm Hmmmm. You see...once you learn to acknowledge, accept and nourish your selfishness, superficiality and egoism...you will stop giving a fuck about everything else and spend every minute of your day trying to please yourself. As we grow older and mature, we feel the need to become more compassionate, giving, generous....we feel compelled to better humanity. This is all learned behaviour. We have to force ourselves to help out a human being. We always think twice about it. Why? Because it is not intrinsic...the 'selfless' altruistic behaviour is always second to our intrinsic, innate and 'born-with' instinct that always asks "What's in it for me?". So while you throw some cash to some 3rd World country that will never see it anyway, you are really doing it to make YOURSELF feel better. Unless you are a fucking moron...you should know better than to throw a couple of dollars to some charity that blows your money on 'administrative expenses', or simply put....the salaries of people who started the charity. "You are one negative fucker" a young woman stands up and points her well manicured finger at me " Why are you so bitter?!" "SIT DOWN BITCH " I respond with a well thought out answer. She sits back down because she is my character and I do as I please with her. Thats not the point. The point is... Enjoy yourself. Throughout your life, people will come along and ax you for all sorts of shit under the pretext of 'bettering our world'. Tell them: "Out of my way, jerk ass" And keep on enjoying yourself. Do whatever makes you feel good. And if you ever decide to be a 'better human' than me...do me a favour....dont show me a recept for a hundred bucks to some fucking charity you wannabe Mother Teresa? Fly down to Ethiopia and overthrow the government. The we can talk about "bettering humanity". Otherwise...let me enjoy my material goods. ↑
Friday, July 05, 2002
Sayonara, S.S.
As a sacrificial offering to the corporation, find here a blog entry in praise of it. It is good if your corporation is big enough to let you run on a different hamster wheel after a while. It lets you escape the fetid piles of organizational detritus that have built up around your current wheel, hamp(st)ering your ability to make that wheel spin. What? You expected some big, huge and saccharine yet erudite essay on the merits of corporate feebility?! Then you are in the wrong blog, my friend. *The man curses as he realizes that the sacrificial corporate fires concealed a flaming pile of crap...then wipes his shoe on the grass* ↑
Leave you life
Once up on a time there was this guy who drank a lot of beer. He would drink it all the time. Sometimes I would…. I mean this guy would drink it shotgun, or sometimes he would funnel it college-style, or out of a bottle or a can or in a chilled glass or by the pitcher or just plain old put his lips around the draught tap when the bartender wasn’t looking. Boy oh boy, he sure liked beer. He also liked Yanni records. He couldn’t get enough Yanni. Yanni: Live at The Acropolis, Yanni’s Greatest hits, even rare, coveted Yanni bootlegs … Wooha! He sure loved Yanni. To him, there was really nothing better than the inpirational piano stylings of Yanni. Beer and New Age music. This guy sure knew how to live. Or did he? ↑
Thursday, July 04, 2002
Deodo Rant.
In the spirit of the season we call summer, which incidentally is called Verano in Spanish, I have devised a celebratory rap which should help you envision the summer if you happen to be locked in a fucking cubicle in a godamn office bulding where the window nearest you gives you a breathtaking view of .......an office building. Are you ready? Peep this. i love the summer time cause like never before the snow suit ladies start dressin like whores something about the summer nights makes me wonder just why all of a sudden everyone's fucking like James Bond is it the climate that brings on the climax all the 14 year olds telling their folks their at the Imax but in reality they be smokin all this weed and having all this sex...although improperly i mean...horny as hell but they know nothing about stuffing huffing and puffing ...in the end they're all bluffing all hot and bothered...yeah right.....go lick a cone and if you want a backstage pass go lick a bone but let me digress....summer can be a mess with no deodorant under the arm plus sweat black socks and running shoes make women wet with the dress code in Tibet, imagine how hot they get?! phew....it must be crazy...this weather makes me lazy i wonder if they had A/C when they drove Miss Daisy otherwise if i was her, i'd bail the fuck out A/C Baby.....thats what's summer is all about. Peace!!!! A young gentleman approaches me as I place my microphone back in the case. He seems nervous and passive. "Hello..."he smiles nervously" do you have a second?: I size him up and down and like the bad ass ho pimpin, malt liquor drinkin, never stinkin, at byatches blinkin, no drivin lincoln, dishes in the sinkin,melt the ice rinkin, on my feet thinkin, in the shower not shrinkin',web sites i'm linkin......well....in other words..i sized him up good. "I...umm....pardon me...Mr.Rapper....but i thought your rap was rather vulgar...you really use a lot of the f word" he stuttered, not looking into my eye like a man. "Watch your mouth assmunch " I get into my gangsta position " I'm an artist...I use the F word like a surgeon uses a scalpel, you byatch" He laughs nervously and retreats slowly. "Ok...well....but...see, you didnt have to call me a byatch and neither was the assmunch reference appropriate" his voice cracking reminiscent of an annoying teenager who works in the local Burger King drve through. At this point, my imaginary homies are reaching for their nines. I shake my head slowly and reach for my Smith & Wesson. Suddenly, the young man pulls out an AK 47 and puts it to my head. OH NO! "See...now I think would be a good time to say "Fuck"" he whispers in my ear, sweat trickling from his forehead. I notice a tattoo on his arm that says "Fuck". Strange...I think to myself. But my thought process is interrupted by many bullets entering my head very quickly. I dont even have time to look at my killer in the eye before I drop to the ground like a punching bag that wasnt fastened properly. My imaginary homies stand there...helpless and angry..... That they do not exist. ↑
Tuesday, July 02, 2002
Leaving the (Cube) Farm
Don't sit there and bitch that it's 35'C outside and so damn humid you couldn't possibly survive, while you shiver in the air conditioned building full of that oh-so-fresh air that's been recirculating since 1967. It's summer. One of the four seaons our country is blessed with. We happen to be in the part that has a hot, humid and hazy summer. It lasts all of two months - so get out there and enjoy it!! Still, I'd rather be at the beach. Happy summer, feebs. ↑
Friday, June 28, 2002
Thank Me Later
Top Ten Ways to Exhibit Active Listening Skills in a Meeting That You Couldnt Give a Shit About 10. Count to a thousand. Every time you reach an increment of 50...lean forward and say "It's important that we add value for the shareholders" or "That is a great point" or "Yeah but....are we positioning ourselves for growth?" or some other bullshit. 9. Throughout the meeting, nod your head with a look of great concentration and reflection on your face. Use a crossword puzzle. It looks as if you're jotting down notes while at the same time causing your face to look focused. 8. When people are speaking and looking at you for a sign of approval, do everything to make them uneasy. Do not nod your head, do not smile, do not "MM HMM". Instead, give off a look of total and utter pessimism: raise your eyebrows often, shake your head slowly while looking down at your cross word puzzle, and smile to yourself as if you know something they dont. This works wonderfully. Why? Because people at meetings make assumptions. Everytime they speak they want agreement, whether it's spoken or exhibited through body language. Because you will not speak (for this would proove you are a fucking moron) and you will not show agreement to anything through your body language, everyone will assume that you are an analytical genius who says little but knows plenty. Long after you leave this meeting, people will say "What do you think of that guy?" and the response will usually be "Seems like a smart guy, doesnt he?" Yes. Indeed. 7. Keep checking your two way pager and typing into it. Furiously and Frequently. Not only you seem to be a "man/woman of a few words", you appear busy and in demand. People notice these things. Set 4 alarms before the meetings so that during the meeting, the pager vibrates around on the table and you check it. Add a look of agitation when you check the 'fake' pages. Show the "AH...They cant do anything without me" face as you type your fake reply messages. You ask: "What can I type?" Well...I'm Glad you axed. Personally...I go into the Note option of my Blackberry and start writing hip hop rhymes. It's up to you, homeslice. 6. Bring lots of shit. And make sure you place all of that shit right on the meeting table. Take up lots of space. The more the better. Pager, Cell Phone, Binder, Calculator, Note Pad, Pens, Markers, Agenda, Palm Pilots, Laptops. Go crazy. Now you appear like a technically astute business guy who has lots on the go but knows how to manage it well. 5. Speaking of calculators. If you hear any figures being discussed during the meeting, stop your crossword for a second. Time to shine. Pull out the calculator, and right in front of everyone...start plugging in numbers like a madman then jotting them down in your notepad. To add some icing on the cake, either nod approvingly or raise your eyebrows at the fictional numbers in front of you. Then go back to your crossword puzzle. 4. Dont commit or promise anything. If they force you to speak and you cannot rely on the Oscar winning theatrics mentioned above...DO NOT SAY YES TO ANYTHING. You havent payed attention throughout, who the fuck knows what they are bestowing upon your dumb ass. There are a number of generic expressions that have been used in the corporate world throughout the years, one of my favourite : "I understand this is important for you...but there are a lot of critical and time sensitive demands/projects scheduled in our department right now...we just dont have the resources to make this a priority." BAM! Just like that. The more you appear like a helpless refugee who hasnt eaten in a few days , the better. How can they come back with anything?! You just effectively said: "We gots some other shit goin on that makes your shit look insignificant....I aint doin your shit.....get the fuck outta here with that shit" Cool? let's move on. 3. Cough, sneeze and blow your nose like a Claritin commercial character. This is a little more intensive...and it requires some work. I realize. But this is like a last resort type of situation. You know for a fact they want you to contribute to this meeting so you show up and instantly erase those hopes by distributing your saliva all over everyone. Apologize to people next to you. You will get sympathy even though you are an idiot. 2. Contribute someone else's ideas. I know it is difficult to THINK about company initiatives when there are online games like PsychoBabble that require your immediate attention. Thats cool. Pick up the phone. Between PsychoBabble rounds, place a call to a 'know it all' who admires you for your coolness. They always want to be like you but they dont know how. They are keen, devoted to the company, they know what's going on but at the same time they love you and the fact that you are a rebel. They live vicariously through you. Ask them what they think about whatever the meeting's about. They will begin their monologue excitedly, because you, the cool rebel guy, asked them for an opinion. Jot down some key points. at the outset of the meeting, contribute your..err......ah ...what the hell...your thoughts and then you can go back to crossword puzzle. 1. Don't go. Just fuck it. Most big companies rely on Lotus or some other bug filled mail software which from time to time fucks up large. Well...."I Never Got a Meeting Notice...." is something you can say when you receive a call after the meeting. Act angry and make it seem like you are very agitated that no one made an effort to get you to this meeting. Make sure you delete the actual meeting invitation. Just to be safe. Well...I hope you learned something here today. I am doing this to free your mind. Your company cares little for you so why you gonna care for them, mofo? Just chill, apply the above rules and everyting will be irie. Oh yeah.... dont come to me when your ass gets fired. It's not my fault you're lazy. ↑
Keep your cool
Every month, some lucky corporate envoy on our floor gets to clean out the common refrigeration unit. It’s a ritualistic endeavor that starts with several e-mails to the department. The first of which warns us of the upcoming fridge purification. The second, a reminder that any ‘unlabelled’ foodstuffs will be discarded without prejudice. And finally an e-mail to report the (always) colossal success of the effort. A very well run and organized process that is closely modeled after Nazi behaviour. It’s a fridge people. Get a life. ↑
Thursday, June 27, 2002
Music mAnonimous
I love music. I don't like people who proclaim to be music lovers and often dismiss particular genres with a sneer and a remark like: "Pshhh...Techno music....thats not music....it all sounds the same.....bang bang bang." or "Pshhh.......Rap....Hip Hop whatever they call it.....it all sounds the same......thats not music." How can you say such simple minded bullshit?! You have a Beastie Boys CD but you hate Hip Hop. You have a Daft Punk or a Moby CD but you hate Techno..... You cannot love music until you embrace it ALL. Because if you think of music as a collection of sounds in some sort of unison....then you surpass the narrow minded genre mentality. You begin to appreciate sound. Even the new and the weird. It occurs to you that the joy is really in how the SOUND affects your mind body and soul. While it may not be conventional or what you are used to...you have to accept it...embrace it and understand it. I am not saying you have to love each and every song you hear...but open your mind to the sound. I didnt like Beer when I first tried it...but it opened my mind. Now I drink beer like a motherfucker and can't stop. I drink until I dont know where the fuck I am. I drink until I actually enjoy Country Music. ↑
Diss Claimer:
Artistic license is used in the creation of this blog. The ideas and opinions expressed on these pages do not necessarily represent those of the authors or editors. Reader discretion is advised. Thank you. ↑
Wednesday, June 26, 2002
Stickin' it to them
It's summer. Hot, hazy and (I'm gonna say it) HUMID. I'm planning several offsite meetings...perhaps each afternoon for the next three weeks or so. There must be clients to visit. Somewhere. Who are you to tell me that the person I talk to on the ferry isn't the next big customer?? How will we know, if we don't seek them out? I'm sure they are lurking on patios and islands nearby. It is my corporate duty to find them. To save the sinking ship. Or at least to find myself a lifejacket. ↑
Drinking Diesel?
"Hello Boss" A gas station attendant greets me with a strong, confident voice and a thick indian accent. Not a warm greeting I thought. No smile, no visible desire to excel at customer service. "I'd like to prepay please" I mutter as I slide a crisp 20 dollar bill across the counter "5 dollars...Premium" Without a word, the attendant punches a few keys on the cash register and throws my twenty into the till. He then slides a $ 10 dollar bill in front me. "Anything else boss?" No eye contact. No Smile. "Actually....I wanted 5 dollars of gas....you gave me a ten here?" I respond in a kind voice, trying to establish eye contact. "You said you wanted 10 dolars gas...I give you ten back" His voice is now turning into a bark. Short and Sharp. Still no Eye Contact. No "Boss" at the end of this sentence. "No...I said 5....I ummm" I am quite puzzled at the challenge."I asked fo........ "You said 10..." The man with the name tag "Raj" interrupts me. His accent seems heavier now. "Are you telling me what I said?.....I THINK i know how much I want to pump in my car and I think I know WHAT I said.....RAJ." "Whatever BOSS". I try to be an easy going human. Kind, light hearted and fun....I hope that most human beings can help one another to achieve happiness each and every day. Funny, how a gas attendant named Raj changed that instantly. An otherwise functional and contributing member of this society...now jumping over the counter, brandishing nothing but a pen, and repeateadly stabbing and slashing the terror stricken attendant who never saw it coming. Now I am getting plenty of eye contact from "RAJ". His wide open eyes are overflowing with fear and adrenalin..begging me for mercy and forgiveness while I relentlessly pierce the writing utensil through his body. I feel warm blood all over my hand and it signals to my mind that I should stop. I cannot remember how long I stood there, stabbing and slashing the gas station attendant with my pen. My mind was numb. Raj was laying on the ground. Silent. Unconcious. Bloody. Surprisingly my anger has not subsided but the vehicle of my attack, my body....has depleted itself of energy. I manage to gather strength for one last kick to his face. "FUCK YOU ......BOSS" I bend down and scream in his blood filled ear. ... The gas station attendant returns my correct change and smiles for the first time. "You have Air Miles,Boss?" ↑
Tuesday, June 25, 2002
ESL
Hello I'm William P. You may remember me from such short films as "A Fucking Disaster: The Story of Vanilla Ice" and "Acronym, Synonym, Verb: What the fuck does BOPS mean anyway?" But today...I am here to speak to you about some other bullshit. In the rapidly changing society like ours, it is critical to be agile and adapt quickly. The emergence of various sub cultures from the depths of the underground to the forefront of mainstream pop culture, has caused even grandma and grandpa to nod their heads to the sounds of hip hop. Indeed, it is a different world today and in order to survive, you will need to know how to communicate with the homies. Here is "Basic Ebonics Lesson 1: Just Nuff So Ya Dont Get Shot". Please memorize these translations and we will apply them in a real life scenario. C.R.E.A.M. (n) Money. Acronym for Cash Rules Everything Around Me. From the Wu-Tang Clan (36 chambers [1993]). catch the vapors (v) To be caught up someone else's popularity, hype or glamour and to want the same things this person has. Cronkite (n) News, after the newsreader Walter Cronkite. "Grand Puba and Studd Doogie droppin' Cronkite" -- Grand Puba (A little of this). ghetto sled (n) car, usually American made, that generally sports a rusted body covered with house paint. Synonym of hooptie. Honey Dip (n) pretty young ladies with golden brown complexions. to get your swerve on (v) A compliment of skill. If you are about to get your swerve on then you are confidently preparing to enter the conflict. If you got your swerve on it means you accomplished something skillfully. word is bond (interj) Saying this means that what you are saying is absolutely correct, and you do not have to put up money to prove it, you just say it. The term originates from the financial markets where hirstorically traders woul tell each other "my word is bond", i.e. my word is good enough, you don't need it in writing. "Cause I'm frontin' in my ride, and my word is bond" -- LL Cool J (The boomin' system [1990]). "Now let us apply the new terms we have learned today by putting together a sentence. But let's do it where it counts....right in the hood...you dig home slicer?" We approach a fine looking young gentleman with a handgun in his hand. "Hello! We are practicing ebonics! Please give us a minute of your time...mmmmkay homie?" The young man appears to be loading his gun while giving us a quizzical look. "Lets begin.....Lookahere man, here's the CRONKITE... what do you say we CATCH THE VAPOURS, go and GET OUR SWERVE ON while we get the CREAM, chop some HONEY DIPS in our GHETTO SLED...WORD IS BOND!" (we jump around wildly, very excited, flailing our arms like we saw the homies do in the rap video) (we stop abruptly. lean to the side...i make a serious face while grabbing my chin with my thumb and index while the Ebonics instructor leans to the side with his arms crossed. We LOOK DOPE!....And just as the young man thought we were done...we break out of our gangster pose and scream: "BAM!!!!!" Right in his face. The young gentleman listens intently. Then he shoots us. Oh well. It was a good try. Stay tuned for Lesson Two when we will explore 10 different ways to get an ambulance while you're laying in the hood with a bullet in your head. ↑
Monday, June 24, 2002
Invoice
"Sometimes I hate my corporate job and everything my financial company stands for. Which is pretty much nothing. Except for revenue.Other days...I don't mind it so much....Why is that? Why do I jump from one extreme to the next so often you ask?" ... "What's that?" "You didnt ask?" Oh. "Can I Tell you anyway?" "No?!" "Ok...Fuck you then, you care free unemployed bliss bastard. Go get a fancy job like mine then we'll see who's bliss. You goddamn hippie." "Why are you so angry?" the carefree hippie voice inside my head asks. I realize my deeply rooted resentmnent toward the corporate world has once again risen to the surface and I attempt to make things happy again by laughing nervously and axing y'all: "Ahem..Yes....I....Ah.....coffee anyone?" But there's is noone here. Wow. I'm fucked. ↑
Friday, June 21, 2002
Love thy neighbour
It's 4:21 on a hot, humid, downtown Friday afternoon and the department has been empty for hours...my colleagues having fled the cube farm for the respite of alcohol-serving patios. Yet, I'm still here...waiting for our client to get a clue that I don't like to be at work at times like this. Waiting for that same client to finish the work they've been dragging their hairy-knuckled feet on for about seven months now. Not that I'm feeling bitterness towards either my coworkers or the client for being the only one left stuck inside the office. No, I'm not bitter. Not at all. "Why?" you ask? You wanna know why? 'Cuz the thunder just rolled in, the lightning cracked and the heavens are spewing my revenge on those lazy bastards I work with. ↑
Dead End
This little rap propels your hand clap propels your head nod you say..."oh my god!" rappers act like wise guys who are new to the mob but i leave them like a fire hydrant in a room full of dogs i make it hot like smog throw a wrench in your cogs fill your kitchen sink with rhymes until the shit gets clogged and my rhymes overflow levels dangerously rising your wackass image needs creative advertising but not until your microphone skills see some major revising I'm Major , you're Minor but not at all is it surprising I'm the New York Yankees while you're the Buffalo Bisons your minor league skills couldnt pay your phone bill you make collect calls from a phone in Goodwill meanwhile i kill for thrills like i was ill italian ladies watch sitting on a window sill Jewish ladies talk about the way my rhymes spill Polish girls wanna get down to the dill pickles Hey! that tickles. BOOOOOO! The crowd is visibly unhappy with the weak ending. They throw bottles at me. A bottle connects with my head. I lose conciousness. The impact of the bottle breaking on my head causes a fracture. Although the fracture is not life threatening, the problem is compounded when my fractured head connects with the ground during my fall. UUUH...Thats's bad. I die. ↑
Thursday, June 20, 2002
Gulp Friction
"My name is Vladimir Mirinov...and I am an alcoholic" The groups nods silently. They look at him as if they wish to reach out and say the right words. Vladimir's is nervous. He has just arrived in the land of opportunity and is now confronting his demons. It is pressing moments like this that brought out the worst in him for many years. But a bottle of "Stolichnaya" which so many times was a one way ticket to temporary bliss is nowhere near him right now. The Group Leader puts his hand on Vladimir's shoulder. But before he can speak, the nervous Vladimir interrupts him: "Yes...every night I drink for past 20 years...it is my way of life..."his voice shaking "I come here to this country...I want to start new life...I want to be new man" The Group sits in silence. They exchange nervous glances, visibly shaken by Vladimir's confessions. A man in his 20's with thick rimmed glasses, messy hair and a sunken, unshaven face, raises his hand slowly but with little confidence. "Vladimir?" "Yes?" "We....ummm...collect and exchange postal stamps and stuff...i think the AA room is down the right to the left" "Âû øóòèòå ?" Vladimir's voice suddenly gained confidence. "I...ummm...sorry..pardon?" "Ëãóí!" The young man begins to laugh nervously looking around as if there was someone who could translate. The Group looks away. The Group Leader looks at the floor. "Âû áóäåòå âñå óìèðàòü." "Yes!" the young man tries to agree desperately attempting to pacify the angry Russian "It is true!!!! Please calm down..." The tension grows. The young man is clearly desperate to resolve this situation. But the language barrier now appears insurmountable. Everything freezes. The Group Leader steps toward you and assumes the narrator role. "This was an unfortunate incident.However, as with most misfortunes, there is indeed a valuable lesson to be learned." Vladimir unfreezes and steps forward, next to the narrator. "Indeed there is...Hello, my name is James Cogan. You may have seen me in such late night infomercials as "Dial A Dumb Blonde" and "A Sweat Free AB Routine with Anna Rexia-Nervosa". But today, I am here to speak to you about a clear and present danger affecting us all. What is the danger I speak of?" "It's middle aged russian men who in hopes of winning the battle with alcoholism, end up being stamp collectors. While this is a great challenge...we can face it confidently" Vladimir steps back and the Group Leader steps forward again. "Thats correct James. Steps are underway to ensure that stamp collection meetings are held in a different venue than Alcoholics Anonymous. Also, steps are underway to get rid of stamp collection altogether." "Stamp collection is a hobby that is seriously affecting the chances of recovering alcoholics. We must take every possible step to eliminate the stamp lickers" adds Vladimir. The scene fades. As with every show or movie ending, there is text appearing on the screen updating the viewers on what has happened since this piece was shot. "Since this episode, stamp collectors have decreased significantly. With the emergence of email, which doesnt always require postal stamps, this hobby continues to experience a sharp decline. Vladimir Mironov, although a fictional character, continues his fight against alcoholism. He is still on the first step but he remains hopeful about his recovery. Keep fighting Vladimir! Hopefully your liver wont give out first." "I am very happy today" the camera shot captures Vladimir in a brand new Kia in front of someone else's house " That experience was bad for me , you know, but now I am happy...thank you very much...i love America!" No. Thank you Vladimir. You are an inspiration. (Please leave the keys to the KIA before you go) ↑
Muse Sick
I am a big 'smooth jazz’enthusiast. My friends call it elevator music. I tell them that it relaxes me. That it calms me down. Then I freak out and tell them all to fuck off and kick them out of my house. Musically speaking, I’m a little bit of a schizophrenic. I like jazz, hip-hop, classical, Russian klezmer and good old fashioned porno soundtracks. I do not like people who judge other people’s musical tastes. I wish them serious harm. No, just kidding…heh..heh..heh… But, judging someone’s musical preferences is a little like taking a Coke bottle and putting it in your bum. Well, okay, it’s nothing like that, but you get the picture. Live life. Enjoy music. Drink Coke. ↑
Wednesday, June 19, 2002
Retro Reflections
Back in the 1980's, a band named Opus released a song named "Life is Life". What a jubilant and thought provoking musical milestone. ... We enjoyed it immensely. We also enjoyed snorting cocaine, wearing acid wash jeans and hair spraying our heads until birds could nest within. Opus is not around anymore. ↑
Tuesday, June 18, 2002
Luigi Laughs Last
Strained Muscles recuperate with adequate rest. A Strained Mind may not. Strained Mind will cause Strained Muscles. Strained Mind produces a Strained Human. Strained Muscles do not cause a Strained Mind. Strained Muscles do not produce a Strained Human. Strained Mind does not think. A Strained Mind is a mind interrupted. A mind onto which incomplete, imperfect thoughts are pressed on....in search of closure. Imposed they enter...composed they may leave. But with each intruding thought that was not conceived at your will...your Mind will Strain. A genuine thought is a thought conceived or accepted willfully and embraced by your mind to be nurtured so it can flourish. Like a mother who gives birth to new life or takes in a life longing for love...a mind nurtures a thought..the thought gives the mind a purpose. What is my point you ask? Sometimes I'd rather be a janitor. My fragile mind no longer for hire. Left alone with MY thoughts. Go ahead. Have my body. It will recuperate at no cost. I may be on my knees, cleaning shit from an overflowed toilet.... But my mind is wherever I want it to be. You pity me as you walk past trying not to dirty your suit, the very symbol of a corporate being... I smile. For the day you put on the suit... You Lost your Mind. ↑
Monday, June 17, 2002
Lyrical Whip
Time for another rhyme for your mind: Stop for a Minute Maid.... please clean it use a moist towel before it smells Foul Play was a name of a J lo single you lonely? try playing bingo and mingle with seniors and asthmatic women swimming classes never really end up in swimming wearing a bikini? please do some trimming or in the bedroom we'll have to do some light dimming if i drink a tea you know i go for the Twinings i eat a lot of candy so i have a lot of fillings a video on 'how to floss' over the years has lost its meaning when i hear "whats up" i say "hmm...the ceiling?" an infected wound requires time for proper healing please dont scratch it i'd rather that you patch it and try being careful next time with a hatchet survivor part 20? i dont think i'm gonna watch it the concept's getting older than Margaret Thatcher somebody should snatch her and put her out of misery most expensive shit should always come with free delivery gullible teens tend to lose their virginity a perfect PH balance keeps a check on alkalinity can you now see how i'm breaking it down lyrically while for most white men this is an impossibility??? ...(i pause so you can ponder the above)... easy peasey "this is off the heezy" is a popular phrase among the kids so take it easy and I'll be back like Arnold Swartzenegger his surname is difficult to spell but......whatever. ↑
Friday, June 14, 2002
P Doggy.
Yesterday, me and my girlfriend went to the Humane Society to adopt a doggy in need of a home. We entered the building and surveyed the selection of these poor, desperate creatures, looking up at as with their sad eyes saying "Please take me to your home...Please?". Their tails were wagging with hope as they tried to poke their head out of their cages to get even the slightest bit of affection. We could bear it no longer. We had to leave. It smelled like pee. ↑
Thursday, June 13, 2002
Walking the Dead
I regain my conciousness. My body feels stiff as I prop myself up and try to survey the surroundings. My mind refuses to think but I know that I have to move. It may be dangerous to lay here any longer. I try to feel my way around a dark corridor, hanging onto a wall. It feels as if i'm barely moving, taking very small steps in fear of what lies ahead. This feels like eternity. Walking in complete darkeness has a strange way of distorting your perception of time and space. Another thing about darkness...it emanates a different kind of silence. The silence surrounds you completely, shrieking loudly....filling your ears with frequency that seems to stab at your calm. The silence seems to get louder when you stop moving. So I walk. I see a dim light at the end of the corridor. My mind finds purpose now and in turn fuels my stiff body to move toward this target. As darkness gives way to this dim light, the piercing shriek of silence suddenly dissapates and I am left alone with the thought of reaching this light. I arrive at a door. My mind begins to slowly awaken as my hands seek the handle. Success. I manage to open the door by leaning my stiff body against it. The weight of my body and the momemtum of the opening door makes me stumble into this well lit room like a tired drunk. I survey the room. I know what I am looking for is here. I'm looking at myself in a large mirror directly in front of me. I can see my eyes still getting used to the light, my body slouched. I'm not sure how long I stood there, examining myself...I guess I need to get my mind up to speed if I am to accomplish this..... I look away from the mirror. "Ahhh....here you are" I caress the object of my desire with my eyes. The light is reflecting off of the white ceramic. I open the lid. Close my eyes,smile with satisfaction as I...... Take my morning shit in a toilet bowl. Yawn. ↑
Wednesday, June 12, 2002
Tuesday, June 11, 2002
Good Wheel Hunting
Is it better to have good things happen when all else seems bleak - or do the good things just reinforce the bleakness? Do you seize the opportunities to escape or is that just moving to a new hamster wheel? Being the eternal optimist...ahem...I'm gonna go with good things being, well, good. There's enough crap floating through the air that if some of it smells good why not breathe deeply? Um...you've got something on your nose. ↑
Gasface
A while back I shared with you a morning rhyme one time for your mind. Now I will break it down once more. Y'all Ready?! "AH...no..not yet....hold on a sec" a weak voice emerges from the back of the crowd. "I have to tie my shoelaces" A collective sigh of disbelief emanates from the crowd. People look to each other for answers. Noone has answers. Whispers multiply. I stand impatiently. The spotlight is blinding me, my sweaty palm is tightly gripping the microphone. I am ready to rock. But the crowd aint ready. "OK...I am ready now" the weak voice speaks again. "Aight...here we go" A generic hip hop beat blares through the speakers. I raise the mic to my lips and begin: "I'm about to bring these rhymes like fast food delivery a pack of 24 from the hip hop brewery take a sip but dont drip, my style shines like jewelery you may consider this as an act of tomfoolery but on the contrary my rap styles vary so whose line is it anyway i axed Drew Carey when i was a young one i thought grandma looked scarry but now she makes me weary with unnecessary retelling of the world war 2 battle stories i stay awake by thinking 'dont worry' 'be happy' just like in the words of Bobby Mc Ferrin back in the day when polka dots i was wearin back in the day when i let my system blare and back in the day when i used to shave my hair... but anyway i'm out like a soccer player who stepped beyond the sideline while in possession of the ball as signalled by the linesmen with a flag......and ummmm.....out like the...that....i....ahem the music stops.the microphone starts feeding back. the crowd is absolutely silent, staring at me. i place the microphone under my ass and release a low frequency, high oscillation fart. The speakers rumble with deep bass. There is a collective "EEEEEWWWWW" from the crowd as total mayhem ensues. People are covering their nose with one hand and punching their neighbour in the face with the other. I run backstage. I can hear screaming and angry people trying to come after me. "This way, sir" an older distuinguished gentleman with a british accent points me to a back alley where a limo awaits. I jump in the limo and the tires screech before i can even shut the door. Behind me, I see a few angry fans trying to catch up. But they never will. Because a motorized vehicle is usually faster than a running human. So do me a favour buddy....dont be a hero chasing farting rappers in limos. You are not proving anything to anyone, big man. ↑
...went up the hill
For a large developed North American city, we sure are a bunch of wimps. This weekend there were 4 carjackings in Toronto. There was widespread terror. People were seen running from their homes with all the possessions that they could carry on their person. Children were abandoned in malls. Left crying. Left hungry. Police were all over the news giving advice on how to avoid being carjacked. You’d think Ebola had broken out. It’s quite a sad thing that our little world is so fragile that a gang of 4 teenaged punks can upset the balance of nearly 8 million people. Suck it up folks. This is the real world. Scum seeps in. That’s just how it is. There is no such thing as a scum-proof city. It’s quite ironic that one of the world’s leading manufacturers of anti-carjack systems is Canadian. Shit, I’d love it if someone took my car. I could pay off my car loan. I’d have more disposable income. I’d save on insurance. I wouldn’t be adding to the gross smog that looms over our city. There should be a service that connects carjackers with citizens who are looking to be carjacked. Now THAT would be progress. ↑
Monday, June 10, 2002
Matter of Perspective
Today, my beloved Polish team lost a must win game to Portugal thereby eliminating any hopes of moving on to the second round of the World Cup. Oh well...it could have been worse. A bunch of Koreans martial art masters could have mistakengly taken over the Stadium thinking it was a Karate Tournament and then proceeding to kick the Polish players in the kidneys. The Referee would try to give out yellow cards but they would be karate chopped out of his hands. OH BOY!...WHAT A MESS! Now that they are eliminated, there is no chance of this happening. PHEW! ↑
Dr Feelbetterski
Do you ever feel down? Well, think about the guy who was crossing the street on the Monday morning, tripped, tried to get up but just as he got to his feet, the streetcar mercilessly plowed into him, scattering his internal organs all over the block. Then come back to me and talk about being down. ↑
Friday, June 07, 2002
Facts Machine
Here is some facts that are considered useless but are actually more thought provoking than the facts that arent supposed to be useless.....or something. Just below each fact, I will completely ruin the interesting or ironic fact by adding my commentary.. "What?" "I dont't know." Ok...so like...here we go: The slogan on New Hampshire license plates is 'Live Free or Die.' These license plates are manufactured by prisoners in the state prison in Concord. (Source: N/A) Ha ha ha...how ironic. The license plate says Live Free and like..... it's made by prisoners who arent free and stuff.... Ha ha. The above fact would be less funny if prisoners didnt make the license plate. Or if they died. The average bank teller loses $250 a year. (Source: N/A) Ok....so if you are so smart Mr Statistics man then why dont you put 250 dollars less in their till yearly. Heck, I should work in the bank and stuff. Organized crime is estimated to account for 10% of the United States' national income. Funny....I dont remember seeing any Job Postings in New York Times....maybe the mafia has an intranet where they like post the openings and then they are taken by 'made' guys...plus i dont think that my IT skills matter much to them cause they just punch and kick and have lots of sex. It takes about 63,000 trees to make the newsprint for the average Sunday edition of The New York Times. (Source: N/A) Oh ok....so someone stood there counting while they were cutting them down for the Sunday edition? Oh...so like..we should stop cutting the trees then.....Ok..so like...we'll make the Sunday edition out of sheet metal?! Now we'll have the Sheet Metal folks will start counting.... IBM's motto is Think. (Source: N/A) How long did they THINK about that one, eh?! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA. Ahem. Lets move on to the next one: A single share of Coca-Cola stock, purchased in 1919, when the company went public, would have been worth $92,500 in 1997. Shit man....anything purchased in 1919 is worth a lot now....never mind Coca Cola. The funny thing is, with that 92 500 you made off of Coke in 1997...you probably would have invested in wireless and 5 years later you would have enough to buy a single share of Coca Cola back in 1919. HAHAHAHAHAHA? HAAA....A......ok then If a statue in the park of a person on a horse has both front legs in the air, the person died in battle; if the horse has one front leg in the air, the person died as a result of wounds received in battle; if the horse has all four legs on the ground, the person died of natural causes. and if there is no statue, then the guy didnt die yet. HAHAHAHAHAHAA. . Noone is laughing. I try to distract your attention by pointing to a non existent bird. The Eisenhower interstate system requires that one mile in every five must be straight. These straight sections are usable as airstrips in times of war or other emergencies. And the problem with buliding an airport every five miles is.........what? Lazy bastards. No NFL team which plays its home games in a domed stadium has ever won a Superbowl. What if the roof is opened for most of the season? AHA. HA....HEE.....HOO....HUAH.....take that. And lastly: Dr. David Williams is a professor of chemistry at the University of Wales. He reports in the journal Chemistry In Britain that a pint of beer a day can be part of a weight-loss program. He states that beer is 93% water, contains no sugars or fat and only low levels of additives. In fact, he says beer is the complete food because it contains carbohydrates, protein and vitamins. Guess who my new Family Doctor is....hee hee hee.... "who?" "Oh..ahem....ummm....it's Dr Weinstein....good guy....just up the street" ↑
Thursday, June 06, 2002
Nodding By Nature
Nodding our heads dates back to a time when pleasing sounds first captured the ears of our ancestors. Because nodding was already considered a sign of approval, as in "Yes, I like this", we simply began to approve frequently and to the rhythm of the sound. Thus the nodding of our heads when we hear a favourable melody. by the way, those heavy metal fans sure show their approval eh? AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHA.. ahem ummm. i'll talk to you later. ↑
Beaten
Today as I listened to Remy Shand’s whispery falsetto in my silver, Sony wrap-around MDR-G52 headphones, I found myself instinctively nodding to the beat. This nodding, this obedience to the rhythm, is innate. Maybe it’s from the tribal drums that summoned our ancestors to the hunt. Perhaps it’s from some time when the world was quiet and we could sense nature’s pulse instead of darting through life in a frenzied daze. Whatever the reason, perhaps it could explain why we all ‘nod’. Why we accept the often unacceptable. Why we cheer on wars and shun those who are different. Why all we care about are the makes of our cars and the speed of our Internet connections while medical doctors drive taxis. Why we can spend hours a day watching television, but we can’t spare the time to help each other. We just nod. Or maybe, it’s just a good song… did you ever think of that? ↑
Fish Funk
Morning rhymes for all y'all: Came in at 9:15, like "Whatever" Working in the corporate world is not clever I used to think it would be a beneficial move to finish all my schooling and get into this groove but now that i'm in the hustle i've lost all my muscle got a little belly so my girl said :"whoa nelly!" when i get my freak on i use petroleum jelly and after i get busy i lay back and watch the teli smoke a little something and call my bredrin on the celli he's name is Sundeep and he lives in New Delhi married a Canadian woman who was named Shelly took her back to India even though she said "it's scary" in this case arranged marriage wasnt necessary even though Sundeep's family cautioned him: "Be Wary" He said "dont you worry bastard guys, it's all good" now he walks with his white chick through the Delhi hoodso learn this lesson that i'm preaching here do what you like without any fear cause if you make decisions based on other people's wishes your arranged marriage wife will make you do all the dishes. in the big sea there are many other fishes for example: SALMON....mmmm thats delicious lotsa of amino acids so it's also nutritious but wait thats not the kind of fish that I mean i'm talking about the type of fish that is not marine a fish that will look sexy in blue jeans a fish that'll easily melt your ice cream a woman might say "A Fish? Thats derogatory!" ........beat stops, the crowd is silent....everyone is awaiting anxiously to see what will happen next ummm........sorry? ....the crowd cheers, the lights come back on....and the beat begins again... phew that was close...add this to your list dont expect to get lucky if you call her a fish. PEACE ...the crowd cheers....I set the microphone on fire, swing it wildly then release it into the frenzied crowd. The microphone strikes a young woodbridge man in the head, causing his hair to catch fire. He begins to flail his arms wildly while people throw him on the ground trying to put out the fire. One girl is seen blowing on his head like if it was a birthday candle. "Cute" I thought "But quite ineffective". After a long struggle, the fire is extinguished. But the young man's head is gone. This would have never happened if I didnt write it. ↑
Wednesday, June 05, 2002
The looking glass
As I sit here on the 39th floor, looking out of my window, I realize that I haven't done one single thing related to work today. My biggest highlight, was posting future events onto my "e white-bored". . Which then leads to me to the question, what exactly did Alice smoke as she was going down the rabbit hole? And where can I get some? So that I can have a slight panic attack as I look down onto the ground where all the beautiful people look like feeble ants... ↑
wage rage
"twas the night before payday and all through TeeDee, server farms were hummin', expending sal-aries. now feebs are not savers, they like to squander and splurge, with every bi-weekly paycheck thats purged. pay off your visa, your amex, your bills. but save enuf bling bling, to get "green unda gills"! happy hump day! ↑
Modern Technology: Bringing us closer...............to madness.
Modern technology has dramatically changed our lives: business and personal. You might argue that you find the phrase 'business life' to be an oxymoron. But why would you argue that?! I am here to testify to the fact that everyday, as new technology waves sweep our thirsty shores, we are bridging gaps: economically, socially, politically, scientifically. Humans feel a sense of belonging when setting up or joining an existing online community that is based on common interests, beliefs, etc. Technology also makes our children, fat , dizzy, hyperactive, stupid, illiterate, lazy, angry, violent, and has recently caused many fucking problems: unstable markets, viruses, decline in morals, y2k paranoia, etc. "Whoa" you step back, surprised at my sudden anger. "But...OH...IT BRIDGES GAPS!" I spew sarcasm "HUmanity comes together...OH...THANK YOU INTERNET" "Whats wrong with you man!?" you grow concerned. I smile...take the last drag from my cigarette...exhale the smoke while maintaning eye contact. "You see.....I'm not a man" I reply while putting out the cigarette, smoke still hangs over our heads. "What?!" you begin laughing in disbelief "What are you talking about?" We both sat in silence. I knew that your mind was racing with wild thoughts of "How could this be", trying to make sense of this sudden madness. I break the silence. "I'm joking...I am a man." I nod and give you a tap on the shoulder . You walk away shaking your head and muttering something under your breath. "See ya man!" I waive but you dont look back. Fortunately, this was a happy ending. But you are mistaken my friend, if you think this will be a happy ending every time. ↑
Tragically Ohip
The post below brings to mind an observation I relayed to my room mate in university: I said: "Peter.....You have as much patience as an unemployed doctor" HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! AAAAA! HAHAHAHAHA OH HEE HOO HA! HAHAHA....AAA..... Ahem. Sorry about that. ↑
Tuesday, June 04, 2002
Cheque mate
I'm not a patient person. I had to learn to enjoy long walks, as I'd prefer to just instantly be where I want to be. MotherCorp has a Dali-esque sense of time...making it stretch and droop. This is particularly true when it comes to issuing paycheques. Don't get me wrong either...I'm more than happy to cup my hands and catch the meagre bits of overflow dropping from her greasy lips. I just wish I could do it weekly instead of bi-weekly. In a world of instant communication and rapid transit systems, you'd think that would be enough to satisfy my impatience. No. I'm just more impatient. ↑
Monday, June 03, 2002
Hampster in the Tie
I thought that as I grow older, the meaning of life, our purpose..... things in general, will become clearer. Quite the contrary. As I grow older, I often catch myself reminiscing about my senseless, meaningless, impulse driven youth and wondering if maybe back then I was better suited to enjoy life. Dont get me wrong...I still make every effort to enjoy my life but I get the sense that as we get older...we place unfair expectations on ourselves. We need a stable job because......we have to pay off the loan that took us to school to get this job that put in us in debt and now will repay the debt by working at this job. hmmm.....We have to live in a house because we JUST do...so we will work all day for the bank to enjoy spending 3 hours of valuable time in our..i mean...the bank's house. Hmmm....We say "Well this is stable.....I have a sense of stability.....it's a paycheque" Thats true. But I ask you this my fellow hampsters: "IS IT SHITTY?" "Yes" you conceed while hanging your head "It is shitty." So I ax: "When you were young...did you ever make a concious decision to do something shitty...even for 5 minutes?...I mean....we HAD to do our homework...but most of the time we didnt...and while we feared the consequence...in the long run...we were alive and well right? We did EVERYTHING we could to enjoy our life and it was great!" "What?" you ask while working on your excel spreadsheet thats due before end of day. "Nothing...never mind "I sigh" So you'll have those numbers before end of day?" You nod your head like a machine. I walk back to my cubicle. My mind occupied with the problems of my company...the same company that does not occupy its collective mind with me. The same company who relies on me and thousands of others to enter the wheel and tread it like hampsters. It will be another 5 minutes before I pause to think "This is ridiculous...I only live once" only to be interrupted again by a phone call: "That excel spreadsheet....will it be ready before end of day?" Yes it will. And it will be ready at a cost that most of your superiors fail to acknowledge. (ie your friggin life) So...just a thought....are we getting smarter as we get older....or do we take a lesson from the children who laugh often with innocence and soak up life each hour of the day. I will let you think about that while I figure out what my company's Net Volume Growth is in this fiscal year. ↑
Short Sleeved Life
I am starting to feel old. I went to a ‘hip’ clothing store on Saturday. Is that what the kids call them these days? Do they still say ‘hip’? Where are my pills? Sure, I can still chew my own food and I don’t shit myself… yet. I was intrigued by how fashion has come full circle. In particular, the mod look from England circa the 1950s is looming again. It’s the Austin Powers influence I’m sure. I’ve stopped brushing my teeth to sport an authentic English smile. I ended up blowing $80 on a short-sleeved Ben Sherman, because it made me feel like I was a teenager again. Except for the $80 part… that part made me feel like an old dude with more cash than brains. Hats off to the cute 18 year old salesgirl who like-totally-thought-that-one-looks-totally-cool-on-me. You can’t fool me girly. I heard you call me ‘sir’ when I walked in. I left the store with my purchase in tote. And I’m sure I heard her giggle as I slipped on my way-cool mirrored sunglasses to brave the day. Time is cruel. ↑
Friday, May 31, 2002
Keepin it Real in the Hampster Wheel
Casual Day Fridays in the office should not be restricted to the dress code. It should also encompass our behaviour. We should be allowed to dress AND act casual. For some reason, we behave much differently in the office than we do after 3pm.....ahem...i meant 5 pm. I believe some of the biggest and soundest business deals forged between enterpreneurs were grounded in "keeping it real". No silly corporate lingo, trying to squeeze in stupid catch phrases like: leveraging, strategically aligning, value to shareholder, blah blah blah. No siree. Just keeping it real. Therefore I submit to you: On friday we should dress casual and act casual. Here is a sample of how your Casual Friday would unfold: 9:26 You stroll in the office an hour late. The senile receptionist who forgets to go home at night, looks at her watch and says: "Well well well...must be nice" You casually respond: "SHUT UP BITCH" 9:55 You sit at your desk after greeting everyone on your floor. Twice. You stare at your computer screen trying to see a 3D hologram. Your phone rings. A coworker makes an 'innocent' remark about your lateness: "Hey...I didnt see ya this morning...late night? heh heh heh" You casualy respond: "Yes. I had intercourse with your mother last night and i am indeed late this morning" 10:05 It's lunchtime. You might say: "But, it's only...". I know. Shut the hell up. Your coworkers ask you if you want to join them by eating lunch at some loser's desk. You casually respond: "Yeah! Sure! I'll see you guys there!.......Then roll your eyes.Then proceed to make a gagging motion. Then lift your leg, fart...exclaim "Wohoo!" and leave abruptly. 2:30 Return from lunch. Greet everyone on your floor by slapping them on the ass. Inevitably, a fellow co worker will say something to the effect of: "This is an outrage" or "How dare you" or "I will report this"...BLAH BLAH BLAH. Punch them in the face. Actions speak louder than words. 3:00 Time to go home. A fellow co worker will invariably make a witty comment about your tardyness. Explain to them casually: "Speaking of tardyness...I will now go home to your spouse whose needs you have neglected" Then punch them in the face. Casually. Repeat each Friday until dismissal. Thank you. ↑
Fashion Fascism
Today is the corporate sacred day. The day when all sins are forgiven. When all men and women come together (yeah, like THAT ever happens) and forget their differences. That’s right, I mean Office ‘jean-day’. That holiest of events when the populace are treated to unholy displays of denim courageousness. Our Office vice-president-in-charge-of-fashion sent out a stern e-mail last night warning us feebs not to dare come in wearing tattered or torn jeans. That all appearances must coincide with the company’s strict dress policy. If you can’t BE sharp, try and look sharp you damned simpletons! I guess she doesn’t have a mirror. ↑
Thursday, May 30, 2002
Type O
Aleksander Solzhenitsyn, a famous Russian author, in "One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich" implies: "The prisoners are more free that the prison guards" - referring to anti Stalinist political prisoners exiled to Siberia. While most have argued that the above statement represents the resilience of human spirit and goodness in the face of evil, I submit to you the following: This novel was written on a Russian typewriter and Aleksander probably had to bang this puppy out quick since the Communists were on his back. What if it was a typo? ↑
Wednesday, May 29, 2002
Backward Incompatible
I wrote a card to a friend. What I wrote sucked. I couldn't use Del or Backspace. The card was ruined. I scanned the outside of the card and printed it out on the colour printer on cardstock. If you can't do the simple things anymore, at least it helps to be a geek. ↑
KaZam Boney
I agree with the "Life is a lot like hockey" sentiment. To break it down symbolically: The Puck - our goals, the very things we strive for: the fame ,the dough, the rides, the hose. (for the garden) The Player - Thats us...going after that puck. The Goalie - The Challenges....the people who get in the way of our wants and needs. The Referee - That the "5.0", the "po po", the "man", the PO - lice: they make sure we go after the puck while abiding by laws. The Coach - Thats your mentors, teachers...people who teach you how to attain your goals. The Zamboni - A fully electric, battery powered ice resurfacer with a liquid cooled engine. You might say : "Whats so symbolic about that?" Or you might say something else. But I ask you this..... How can i respond if i do not know what you might say? AHA! 1-0 for me, my friend. ↑
Runneth over
Life truly is a random series of disappointments. Why should hockey be any different? In fact, life is a lot LIKE hockey. You move back and forth, side to side, chasing something that if you REALLY thought about it… is nothing. You are shoved, slashed, punched, tripped and bruised. And for what? The Big Cup? You try your hardest to make it… and when you come up short, you’ve let the whole world down. When you DO make it? Well, the whole world wants a piece of the action. And just like life, you end up taking one in the nuts now and then… Thank God for The Big Cup. ↑
Balls on ice
For more than a month now, almost every other one of my weeknights has been spent watching Toronto Maple Leaf playoff hockey. This has saved me from renting romantic movies with my girlfriend. Toronto's season ended last night as they lost the 'must win' play off game. I told my girlfriend they won. "Now that they won honey, they advance to the next round which is called World Cup 2002...they now have to prove their soccer skills if they want to win the Stanley Cup...i know it sounds complicated.....yes..oh...and also...thay are now changing their name to Poland....and it's critical that i watch every game" That will take me through the summer until the NFL season starts. ↑
Tuesday, May 28, 2002
How YOU doin'?
If you work in an office setting like i don't, then you will notice a commonality in the way that people communicate with each other. For example: To a question like "How are ya?" , there are usually four different responses. I submit to you that the response will speak volumes about the person who...umm..responds. Ya..so like...anyway...here we go: How are ya? "Super!!! Yourself?!" This optimistic response is almost screamed back at you with a super wide smile. This person is happy as hell to be in the office, their eyes are constatly wide open and they speak louder than everyone else. I dont get these people. I believe at 5 o clock they go home and paint themselves while chanting cult anthems and sacrificing their kids to Bill Gates. They cannot be normal. If you are a hampster in the office and you tell everyone you're "Super" then you are a schizophrenic. Go be "Super" somewhere else. "Very Well...VERY WELL....thanks" This response usually features the "Very Well" part repeated twice...with more emphasis the second time. These are the insecure corporate types who have to convince everyone that they are the movers and shakers. You will see these guys at 5 pm at the pub downstairs, introducing themselves to women as "Bill Jones , Manager of Strategic Implementatons for the BLAH BLAH BLAH. They sit alone. Then they go home to Swanson. They eat Swanson alone. "Good and you?" This response is probably the most frequent. Said without thinking, it is a common protocol response in an office environment. Utilized by hampsters who have been in the corporate/office setting for many many years. It is convenient, secretive, closed ended, and immediately puts the ball back in the other person's court without revealing too much information about yourself. The response is usually inaccurate since the responder is often divorced, in debt, hates his/her life and hates you for asking. Beware of the "Good and you-ers". Their life sucks and they spread lies. "Not Bad....you?" We're getting closer to humanity now. This response offers a hint of truth and proof that the responder genuinely considered your question. Things arent bad: You are alive and your fungus problem is under control. But things arent good either: You will die for sure and this fungus thing....what is that?! So i like people who answer "Not Bad". They keep it real more or less. No dellusional optimism and a bit of scepticism. They can be trusted. "Ah...you know.....pushin along" or "ah..you know.....same shit....different day" or "ah...you know....I'm surviving" If you're going to build allies...you build with people who respond like the above. Full of resentment, scepticism, and hatred for the office (aka Hell with Flourescent Lighting) these people give it you straight. This responder will usually realize the pathetic state of affairs and at least acknowledge it honestly. Hated by "Good and you'ers, and the Very Well-ers, and the Supers" the "Ah You Know-ers" , despite a common myth, have plently of talent and vision. They just dont give a fuck. So remember...next time you ax someone how they are....pull out this piece of paper...listen for the response...and determine whether you should kick them in the face. Thank you. ↑
Van Gough?
So the new Star Wars flick is out and is receiving earnest sci-fi fans in record numbers. I personally have not seen it, and I’ll be waiting for a few more weeks at least before I venture out, braving the lineups and soiled movie-house upholstery to pay obscene ticket prices just to witness another George Lucas journey into self indulgence. How else would you describe this? Twenty-five years after the fact he puts out ‘prequels’? What the HELL is a PREQUEL? Am I the only one not buying this horseshit? Geez. His obsessive overuse of cinematic technology in ‘Phantom Menance’ should have had him blackballed out of the industry. And what the hell is a Jar-Jar anyways? ↑
Monday, May 27, 2002
Sail away
We had a garage sale this weekend. Well, not actually a ‘garage sale’ since we weren’t in the garage. It was one of those multi-family sales where several houses on the same street sell personal possessions with which they are willing to part from their respective lawns and driveways. I was amazed at the crap that people will buy. We sold old clothes, worn shoes, chipped mugs, scratched CDs, dusty, dingy, dirty things…some of which had not seen the light of day in many years. And somehow, we managed to make around $500. To the gentleman who bought my old ski boots and the lovely old couple who snagged the Ron Popeil Pasta Machine… bless your optimistic hearts. I truly hope you make tasty rigatoni and tame those snow capped Canadian peaks. I’ll see you next year. ↑
Friday, May 24, 2002
Reign and shine
As Canadians, we have this irritating habit of habitually discussing the weather. Some have estimated that it’s because we have such dramatic seasons. Others have said it’s because we are nice people and the weather unifies us…. it gives us some common conversational grounds. Both nice thoughts, but no… not quite. It’s because the government has been secretly controlling our minds since the late 1970s using CIA pioneered mind control techniques. Laugh if you will, but how else would you explain Al Waxman’s 7 year stint as the King of Kensington? I implore you. Resist them. DO NOT DISCUSS THE WEATHER. But alas, they are very powerful, and I fear that we cannot do it. We cannot escape their tyrannical grip. So what’s up for the weekend? ↑
everyday....
I wake up, proceed undeground to the subway, walk down the underground path to my tower, stare blankly at my monitor, eat at the underground food court, caffinate at underground starbucks, return home on the subway and take the elevator up to my apartment. i spent some time in now i am here. you know...i'm pretty sure the homeless guy laughs deep inside as I enter those revolving doors each day. but his laugh will soon subside for he will suddenly remember he doesnt have a house. ↑
Bam!
In my day, I made some money in the rap game. I will now share with you some rhymes that propelled me to the top. (of the Financial District skyscraper where i sit in a my lyrical super style is infallible you see you touch my medium coffee you get burned in first degree people axe me:how do you do it tommy zee? it's easy you see..i sift through the debris am i a part of the bourgoise? a Polish refugee who swam in the Baltic Sea? maybe...maybe not...there are no guarantees the early web pages featured scrolling marquees a bachelor's degree is like Polish currency the pot pourri eliminates the smell of peepee you might say to me that you can foresee this rhyme going nowhere very quickly in this case unwillingly i will agree and go back to work but first i'll go pee. ↑
thought for the dazed.....
a fellow colleague returned to work yesterday after a short 7 week hiatus. now think about it...he could have really stuck it to the bank if he wanted to....he could have continued to remain at home, or to even return on a part time basis....but he felt "ready" to return to the orifice...to the bittersweet smell of "coffee club" coffee and the visual realization that his cubicle's carpet has never been cleaned, not even vaccumed, ever!!! no wonder our stock is diminishing....we work in a ghetto. movin' on up to the eastside, my ass! ↑
Thursday, May 23, 2002
Let's get ready to rrrrrummmbbbbbllllle!
My company said to me: "Think Outside the Box" So I did. They clarified: "Think Outside the Box (as long as you're still within the box housing the box you were thinking outside of)" Oh. ↑
Bubble wrap
It seems to me that people are getting rich off this rap thing. They throw together some loosely scripted lyrics that have pseudo - valiant social connotations. They steal someone else’s music…loop it, add machine created thumping, record it and play it in a video with well endowed bikini-clad women. God bless them. Here is a little rap I wrote. You might want to bust it note for note…. CONFUSION People with remotes clickin’ televison channels, Whales ain’t really fish but in point of fact mammals, Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do? Little baby diapers spillin’ over with tha’ poo, I find I can’t sleep, I find I can’t eat, Isn’t it ironic like a vegan eating meat? Dontcha think? Dontcha? ↑
North of Carolina...eh?
I have just returned from Raleigh, North Carolina. Me and 5000 other Canadians made this 15 hour trip across 4 states to support not just the Toronto Maple Leafs but to spread the spirit of Canadian playoff hockey excitement to the American Mid West. And get hammered. A couple of interesting points/observations from the trip: · En route, not one person was able to give us directions to neighbouring states/cities. They were more interested in asking us if we speak "Eskimo". · As we walked towards the Arena, decked out in our Toronto Maple Leaf Jerseys, the Carolina fans who were cradling babies and barbecuing in the Arena parking lot yelled to us: "HAHA....How long is the walk from Ottawa?" (?!?!?!?!) · As I was waiting to retrieve money from a Bank Machine inside the Arena, a very pleasant gentleman said to me "I once lived in Ottawa...great city...how long was the drive?" I did not respond. I looked down on my Toronto Maple Leafs jersey...I looked at him with sympathy and walked away. · A burly "tough guy" Carolina fan challenged a thousand crazed Toronto fans in the Arena parking lot : "Put your money where your mouth is!!!" while pulling out his wallet. A half drunk, Toronto fan sitting on top of a case of Canadian replied: "Lets go dollar for dollar buddy". The American agreed and the Canadians rejoiced in his ignorance in the matters of currency exchange. · Some old guy bumped my girlfriend and asked her: "How do you like the indoor plumbing?" Then proceeded to laugh at his own remark. I took a deep breath, about to explain that we live in a world class city nearing 8 million people...and to ask us if we like the indoor...it's like...well....i couldnt say anything. He was laughing very loud. · During the game...The Jumbotron displayed definitions of hockey basics. "Offside - it is when a player....." And the people read with great interest. In the end, Toronto lost the game in overtime. In the long run, I think we won. Glad to be on this side of the border. ↑
Wednesday, May 22, 2002
Sonny? Share.
A while back, I was on a kick about a social theory known as reciprocating altruism. It’s a set of rules that a society can (theoretically) employ to maximize the overall gain for that society. It goes something like this… I will ALWAYS do something nice for you, if you do something nice for me. I will ALWAYS do something bad to you if you do something bad to me. I will ALWAYS start by doing something nice for you. For instance, if I give you some food, you must give me some food. If you take food from me without giving, I will withhold the food, until you give some to me, at which time I will reciprocate with food. This system weeds out the maggots in society who take without giving. The ones who leech from the teat of the kind and generous. The ones who think that they are somehow ensuring the propagation of their own nauseating species by exerting as little effort as possible to gain the maximum amount. Don’t let them. Reciprocate altruism. Reciprocate egotism. Do it. Do it now. ↑
Tuesday, May 21, 2002
My lawn, weakened
The lavender plant I bought two weeks ago has died. A slew of strange, microscopic bugs seem to have infested it. I had kept it in my bedroom with the understanding that the sweet aroma of English Lavender would assist me in my pursuit of nocturnal bliss. God damned insects. We went to Dave and Buster's on Saturday and wasted $60 on games for the feeble. How fitting. We did manage to cash-in the tickets we 'earned' for a stinking stuffed-animal caterpillar worth about $2 that my JRT Boris shredded in about 5 minutes. Oh, and four people won the $34,000,000.00 I hope they choke. ↑
Friday, May 17, 2002
Penny For Your Thoughts
She'd always wondered why girls always went to spend a penny. Really, what could so little cash buy? Then she found a penny in her panties. She still didn't know what it could buy, but she knew where the store was. ↑  wretched corporate feebs © - All rights reserved - 2002-2004 
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