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 

Fuddle Duddle?



Does Sharon deserve the Nobel Prize?

...or just the finger?





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 

Well.

That's deep.






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.

Nina's Picks


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?

No.

Selling street meat?

No.

When do they get you?

When you're just out there to have a good time.

*skritch-skritch, skritch-skritch*


So, to Mother Nature...F-OFF!










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 

Bush

...whacked.





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 

Java Jones

If we'd had a coffee machine this cool, I'd have been a convert way back when.





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 

Grateful

The varied crises of friends and family drive home how fortunate I really am.





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 

Cashless Society

Click here then "Click Here to watch it".





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 

PFD

George Bush Jr. is going to a Think Tank tonight.

Isn't he worried about drowning?





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 

BB King.

I haven't written in a while.

Blogger's Block.

Sue me.





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.