Saturday, December 06, 2008
I grew up in Olcott Beach, NY. From my vantage point the sun set on Toronto every night. Toronto was magical – it was a real city with a tower and a 48% exchange rate on cash money. They had the best FM radio stations in the world , with all of that CFNY and The Mars Bar. Canada gave us SCTV, House Of Frightenstein (best children's show ever), and 1:00 AM curling matches. Before US Homeland Security ruined everything on the NY border, high school students in western NY towns were empowered to skip school and spend the day in Toronto. It was the thing to do, not so long ago, to be buying used albums on Young and Bloor.
Then Dubya got elected. The teat of Canadian kindness all but dried up. “You people are stupid and retarded,” Canada would say. “We pay our citizens to have babies in Canada, and provide free healthcare, eh? And what do YOU do in the US? Let morons steal your government. You embarrass North America. Major assholes, eh.” For eight long years, my Canadian friends have gone out of their way to shove my head into a dirty toilet because of Dubya. I thought you were my friend until I found out you were waiting for my nation to screw up, just so you could have a self-righteous laugh.
Well, well. What’s up with Canada these days, hmm?
Oh looky thar! Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper has shut down parliament to avoid a No Confidence vote, because he’s a dillhole conservative who hasn’t the first clue about what he is doing (and he is ruining everything). That’s what I said - what a poopchute Stephen Harper is! As much as I hate to point fingers, 46% of you Canadians elected him. At least I can prove Dubya stole our elections…
So tell me, Canada, how does it feel when you can’t find your own asshole with both hands? Doesn’t it suck? Don’t you just hate being defined by your bad management? Don’t I know it. Baby baby baby. Mmm.
Canada - I wouldn’t dare kick you when you are down, as much as you have kicked me, and so we have a choice. Either you let me help you work through your pain and make the world better, or you better ask me to laugh at your greasy arteries full of back-bacon and Tim Horton’s crullers. What’s it going to be, Mr. I’m Better Than You Eh? It’s your call.
There’s an awful load of dripping mess in the world, dear Canada, and it might behoove us to be pals again and work stuff out. My arms are wide open. No matter how you choose to go forward, I’m certain the sun sets on your shiny city in Ontario – with or without your consent. I’m here. You’re there. We are inches apart.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Many of you are not shopping this year because of this busted flat in Baton Rouge economic disaster. Which means you might be missing holiday music at the mall. Oh, the piped-in joy of Christmas songs while you run over Wal-Mart employees to buy Playstations...
This is my list. I stand by it 100%. Hope you like!
Alvin And The Chipmunks - The Christmas Song
What is there not to love about chipmunk voices? Itssoeffingadorable! I'm into the song for the harmonic genius that is, "Me? I want a HUUUU-LA HOOOOOP." I could listen to 1,000 hours of radio static, as long as I get to hear the hula hoop line.
Cocteau Twins - Frosty The Snowman
Freaky freaky and freaky! It's like Frosty on Xanax with a heroin-fairy singing lead. English is not her first language. Wot? Zactly.
Spice Girls- Christmas Wrapping
A nice cover of The Waitresses. With a disco back beat and better production values. YAY YAY YAY!
Band Aid - Do They Know It's Christmas?
Boy George weeps for the snowless Christmas plains of Africa, Bono cries for starving children and George Michael pulls his homosexual groin hitting the high notes. It ain't snowing in Africa, you cracker. Christmas is a world of dread of fear for Band Aid. Tonight, thank God it's them instead of you...
Snow Miser - Heat Miser
Stop animation genius combined with big gay show tunes. On one hand you have the Snow Miser, who is freezing (brrrr!). And then there is Heat Miser, who is from hell. Too much!
José Feliciano - Feliz Navidad
No Christmas song reminds me more of leisure suits, the swinging 70's and Pacers more than this. Feliz Navidad makes me wants to eat hayacas and hand out Advent Calendars to little kids.
David Bowie and Bing Crosby - The Little Drummer Boy
Oh, this tales me back to my footie pajamas and Swiss Miss instant cocoa. I tear up for every pa-rum-pah-pum-pum. In this video, David Bowie lives down the road from you. Which means you live near a Methadone clinic. Good luck on your sobriety. Every day is new!
Dr. Elmo - Grandma Got Run-over By a Reindeer
What did you expect - It Came Upon A Midnight Clear? You can hear that at the grocery store. This is art, not shopping for bacon and paper towels!
Have some suggestions? Let 'er rip. If you post anything related to Mannheim Steamroller, you will be deleted.
P.S.: If anyone can score "Here Comes X-Mas/When Southern Bells Ring" by the Judybats, let me know. I can't find it anywhere and I love it much. Thanks!
One of the primes suspects behind the terror attacks in Mumbai last week is Tony Yayo. The terrorists left behind Mr. Yayo’s calling card, in the form of spoons and syringes. When the booger sugar ran out, they had some LSD. Because they are animals.
Now I understand why they trashed hotels.
If there is a glimmer of hope to be found in the wake of Mumbai’s sorrow, it is knowing that terrorists prefer one of the most physically destructive and expensive drugs on the planet. Blow has the potential to demoralize and bankrupt terror cells before we do. If that is the silver lining I can have today, I’ll take it.
Robin Williams Explains Cocaine:
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
I was doing some free-time research on bog mummies the other day, as I often do, and I couldn’t help but think of the economic bailout packages being distributed in the US. In retrospect, I can’t believe I didn’t notice the relationship between these two things until now. Silly me. Let me explain…
Bog mummies are preserved remains of cadavers that were thrown into the bogs of Europe thousands (or at least hundreds) of years ago. As far as archeologists can tell, many of these mummies were human sacrifices – people who were killed to curry favor with pagan bog gods, in order for villages to receive bountiful harvests and divine protection against enemies.
Meet Tollund Man. His time of death is somewhere around the 4th century BC, in Scandinavia, during the pre-Roman Iron Age. He is in remarkable condition for a man left for dead in peat moss. His eyelids are still there and his sheepskin hat is no worse for wear. He’s quite a find.
When Mr. Tollund was about 40 years old, he was garroted at the neck and choked (not hung like a criminal). He was not beaten, slashed or treated poorly before his death. Mr. Tollund’s hat tells that he was no common slacker, and his preserved belt indicates he was a fellow who knew how to dress for important occasions.
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Human sacrifices. A tricky business. Many a culture has been tempted to give up their coveted virgins. The reality is that not every sacrifice was a perfect person. Villagers had no problem with selecting people they perceived as weak or expendable. Mr. Tollund is different than your average human sacrifice because he was not a burdened by a hymen (intact or otherwise), and was not physically challenged. Also, he was carefully laid to rest in a decent patch of bog. Mr. Tollund was not just anybody; he was somebody important who needed to die.
In our generous hearts, we might see Mr. Tollund as a selfless leader who paid the price (and how!). Perhaps, but what if he was doing well for himself at the expense of his clan? Is it possible that Mr. Tollund had to go down because his success was the byproduct of his neighbor’s misery? We could be looking at a man who is the prototype of a corporate CEO who enjoyed one too many bonuses.
-- -- --
Meanwhile in Washington, DC, modern humans are handing out cash money to stave off economic destruction. Men in private jets with luxurious mistresses are holding out tin cups and begging for credit from the US government, as if our collective wallets represented some kind of bog god who could persuaded to make things better. The government will write enough checks to ensure our safe passage through Wall Street, but it doesn’t mean we like it. It might not even work. So we need a patsy, just in case.
There will be blood drawn over the economic bailout. Maybe not literally, but at least symbolically. Humans are biological creatures, sure, but we are also wired for retribution and drama. I have yet to see a garroting of any CEO’s, but I am fairly certain that a descendant of Mr. Tollund is going to need to be choked to death before anyone feels a bit better about things. That is how the world works.
Someone always has to pay. Right now that person is me. It’s you. It’s your neighbor. This bailout is costing us more than we can count. We will carry a grudge against some guy we perceive as the ultimate bastard. I don’t know how and I don’t know when, but that guy is going down. Deep. No, we don’t do bogs anymore. The new bogs are called blogs. Nothing is too sacred for a blog.
Have a happy day, sir, whoever you are.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Wait - did you just hear that noise? It was like a giant SLUUURGHP combined with a THWUMP. That was the sound of government spooks and career diplomats shitting their pants and passing out at the same time. Foggy Bottom residents are farting whistles from their tight behinds, in anticipation of things to come. Welcome aboard the Obama Soul Train, future Secretary Of State Hillary Clinton! YAY YAY YAY!
Talk about a shifting paradigm… Those sock-suspender wearing, double parked diplomats with a throat full of Bush splooge are having one transient ischemic attack after another. Oh noes! Here comes Hillary! Quick – pretend like you’re reading The Diplomat’s Handbook. Act like you’re attempting to negotiate things! Hurry!
I’m so tickled for the US right now. What a dream team Obama is selecting! I always knew Hillary would be on the 3:00 AM phone call. Hillary’s appointment scares the crap out of The People Who Think They Know Everything. With their craptastic record on weapons of mass destruction and foreign affairs, what can I say? They are so fucked. All of them. So very, very fucked.
Congratulations, Hillary! WHOOOOOOO! Hello world, we are staging a comeback. Please come to our party! We love you!
I’m so happy. I look like the Cheshire Cat on Sudafed. AHAHAHHAAAAAAA!
Monday, December 01, 2008
Last week's vampire poll was insightful. Most of you lay-abouts associated immortality with sleeping late and wearing dark clothing. Lazy fashionistas!
Check out the new poll. Which yammering MSM fatface is the biggest a-hole in the world? So many choices, so little time. Pick as many as you like!
Inauguration Day tickets? It’s the new Powerball, man. Eleven-hundred bazillion people are scrambling for Inauguration Day tickets, to see Socialist Muslim Domestic Terrorist-friendly President Elect Obama take the reigns of power from the confirmed anti-Christ, George Dubya. January 20th, 2009, in Washington, DC is bigger than The Beatles at Shea Stadium and every Burning Man Festival combined. Be there at noon.
240,000 tickets will be printed. 30,000 of those people get something to sit on.
Tickets to this event are free and will be distributed by US senators and congressional representatives, about a week or two before the big day. It is not yet illegal to sell Inauguration Day tickets, but lawmakers are working on that. Meanwhile, scalpers are making a fortune on the black-market, for tickets that have not been “officially” promised to anyone. Plenty of people are scheduled to be royally screwed by these scams.
Weeks ago I added my name to the vast assortment of official waiting lists. When I finished calling all of the Democrats in my voting district, I started calling Republican officials. “Wouldn’t you rather give me a ticket than a hater wearing a sheet?”, I said. I even had the nerve to ask for two tickets. Hey, it can’t hurt to just ask.
As best as I can tell, I have nowhere to sleep if I actually land a ticket. And I don’t even care! All I know is that I’m trying very hard to stand outside (all day long) in January. DC is prone to wicked ice storms that time of year, and so I’m researching ways to include hot lava into my wardrobe.
Sally, I’ve been waiting 8 years for this. Even if I have to watch Obama taking the oath of office on TV, I can guarantee you that Inauguration Day is going to be one of the best moments of my life. My only concern, to be honest, is making sure that I have enough tissues handy.