Narcissism Central.

For a friend - Facebook wouldn't let me post this.

2011-06-14T00:45:00.000-05:00

Yes, they're girls, and yes, they're peeing standing up. Glad I don't have to clean the floor.

W.T.F. moments in advertising...

2011-03-30T23:34:00.000-05:00

This guy is a total no bullshit lawyer. I'd hire him.

So it's been awhile, I know. Lord knows there's enough stupidity to make fun of, but I haven't had much in the way of time (hey, I got a life too!) Just the same, I recently found myself with available time and while watching TV, I realized there were more dumb ads than I thought. Then I thought about it. Over time, some of the best dumb ads were in print. Now before you scroll down and start looking at these, be aware that some are pretty offensive. And that's before I add my caption. I didn't make these up, just showing you a reflection of stupidity over time. Some is just ignorance. So if you're offended easily, run like hell to your Strawberry Cheesecake Online game or something. This is for grownups.

Okay, warning over.

Some of the ads reflect things that at one time were considered beneficial, like drugs:


Effectively treats... does that mean give you?

Yup, over the counter at your local pharmacist. Cost - 10 cents. Addiction - free. Priceless.

This is partially true (ask a German,) but no more than one a day and only if it follows the Reinheitsgebot. They can't even pronounce that in Milwaukee.

Possible side effects include: Grandpa not making it to the next Thanksgiving dinner, leaving an open spot at the big table. Okay, one dose.


This was fine till toothless people showed up complaining about toothaches.

Or maybe cigarettes, even. I mean, the was a time when the Surgeon General spent all his time worrying about little things like polio, tuberculosis, and measles. You know, kid stuff.

How the Marlboro man got his start.

Maybe to knock the shit out you for blowing smoke in her face...

At least until the emphysema kicked in... Believe it... or Not!

Yeah, he only sent them to Democrats.


Okay, she likes'em long. I had to say that.

Some of the worst ones reflect the mentality of the time - the old school Mad Men were chock full of pointy hooded racists and sexists. Oh, this is the part I warned you about.

Coca Cola... the original Ritalin.

It's Schlitz. It would taste better if she did.

Yes, it's the same famous plus size store. See how they changed it?

People's exhibit 1: This is why Mary sweetened his coffee with cyanide.

Yeah, it's horrible. But someone went to great trouble to make sure Rastus had excellent handwriting for an illiterate.

Really? Someone didn't give the 19th century pinhead the memo...

If he thinks she'll be happier with a Hoover at Christmas, I hope he doesn't expect one of his own.

The absolute worst. By the way... I didn't know the Jacksons did soap ads... Jermaine... Tito... and Micheal with his original nose.

And as you can see, it's capable of withstanding a strike of at least two torpedoes.

Who wants a pussy that just lays there?

All new, the 1968 iPhone.

Still there? Good. Yeah, I poke fun at it, but sometimes it truly is embarrassing to see such a reflection of history and its attitudes about everything. You have to see it, be able to make fun of it, and not forget it. It's the only way to move forward.

Lastly, I found some oddities and things that didn't totally fit in (or that I forgot.)

Enjoy the last set, and understand that ignorance will always become fodder for jokes.

Guess it gives new meaning to feeling like shit.


Ad from when Coca Cola used coca leaf in their soda. Most popular slogan at the time: "Say hello to my li'l friend!"

Yup, they had them even then. I thought it meant something else till I saw the puppet.

For the 40's housewife who got tired of FUCKING HOOVERS!!!!

Welll... maybe not the stupid ones...

Yes, Lysol made a douche. And yes, it protected against H1N1.

There ya go. Proof that Ovaltine makes you gay.

I've had mine called a few things, but never Sega.

Old ad for Italian babies.

Hmm. I guess prison was a happier place in the 50's.


They probably were, since 1950's tampons were about the size of 1950's computers.

That's it for now... tune in for more offensive fun!

Brought to you by...

Buy one, get one free... one for each end!

Christmas from da Barrio... okay, not really.

2010-12-24T19:40:00.000-06:00

Merry Christmas from da Barrio, Holmes…

Lemme introduce da first Christmas to you… it ain’t da way they tell it, esse…

First, you got Jose. He thinks he da baby daddy but he not.

Da baby mama, she be Maria. And then da baby, (yeah, there’s two) Jesus, (like hey – Seuss, bro) and his unknown twin, Juan. Juan became a plumber.

Den, you got da Tres Amigos – they brought presents an’ shit like tacos, burritos, and tequila.

Da dudes wit’ wings – they da Border Patrol. No helicopters back then.

Da homey wit’ da sheep is Juan Valdez, Jose’s cousin from Columbia. He said he brought coffee… I dunno.

The camel? Well hey man, everybody knows – that’s da first Lo – Rider! See da purple seat cover gold trim an’ tassels? Can hold all of them, man…

Now you know da True story of da first Christmas, man…

Feliz Navidad!

Happy Holidays from Kim and Ed!

Even Santa's Workshop has bad ideas...

2010-12-23T23:24:00.001-06:00

Christmas ain't Christmas without music...

RUN-DMC - Christmas In Hollis (Official Music Video). Watch more top selected videos about: Run-D.M.C.

Christmas? Paid? Why not, I own your house... hum that bug.

Well, another year has come and the holidays have struck again. It's that time when we celebrate the birth of baby Jesus with something called "Black Friday" and five weeks of battling at the local Wal-Mart for the latest Playstation or Wii game. (Jesus would have wanted it that way.) In fact, if you look real close in the Black Ops commercial, you can see baby Jesus turning water into napalm... (yeah, I'll go to hell for that.)

They should put these on the back of potentially crappy gifts.

Thing is, we've had rough times in the past few years. Gifts have got to be good. You can't afford to spend the house payment money on something that will be re-gifted or end up on an episode of Hoarders because the crazy old lady down the street found it in your garbage. So, in the interest of helping you, the reader, here's some stuff you shouldn't get adults...


Sorry, Santa does good. I do naughty. Well.

So... I looked around. Turns out there's a few things you don't want to give or receive. Shit you won't find on Amazon. Maybe E-bay, yes. You can get used toilet paper there if you bid high enough. So here we go.


For the woman who wants to stay in shape... and drunk.

These are all real gifts. A wine tote bra. So what do you get if you prefer your wine in a box?

I don't know about you, but I wouldn't trust that cup of coffee.

Toilet coffee mug. Great gift for the total shit in your life, I guess.


Ummm... really? Are you seriously that lazy?

A pet... petter? If you're too lazy or germaphobic to have a real pet, try this...


Low maintenance... but not high on the affection chart.

Yes, someone made a fortune off of packing boxes with rubble. Only in America. But then, we also were the first to buy water in bottles because someone said it was cool.

The perfect gift for the OCD hoarder in your life. For the rest of us it's just stupid.

Yup. As if fanny packs weren't gay enough. Now... on to the kids. They don't re-gift, they just break it and forget about it. Wait... they do that with every toy.


Don't you just WANNA be the one to tell him?

For every item they love, there's ten that end up as sharp debris under your feet when you're going to the bathroom in the middle of the night.


It's ours.. it's real... and it's fantastic. Eat that, Terri Hatcher.

Let's see what Santa's "mentally optimistic" (brain half full) elves came up with, huh?


I always heard Dora was a whora, but seriously?

I hear if you rub the base she shoots out the top.

A Braille Rubik's cube. So blind kids can be pissed off, too.

Yeah, a blind joke. I'm not worried... not like they're going to see it.

Balls, nuts... it's all the same.

Not really a toy... unless your daughter is a young Democrat with cankles.


Don't know if this is boring or just plain creepy.

Jesus bobbing in my bath water? Just hope this wasn't a Catholic idea...


This is a Russian Roulette game. The guy who came up with this is a special kind of stupid.

Yeah, really. Nothing like preparing the ol' kids to off themselves...


Barbie's knocked up friend, Midge. Can't have Barbie ruin her figure, can we?

First, pregnant Midge. But as usual, no one cared about Barbie's skeezy friend.

Oh, maybe we can... as long as Barbie did it in high school. Even comes with a cell, money, and a little welfare check.

Pregnant Teen Barbie. Because trailer park girls need something to aspire too... and if you order now, you get free tickets to Maury to find out who Barbie's baby daddy is...

Yup... a kid's tattoo kit. He can even do Little Mermaid tramp stamps.

Just so the trailer park boys don't feel left out, someone came up with this. Note the camo hat. Bet they're drinking real beer, though...


Ummm... yeah... for that budding cocropheliac in your family...

Hmmm... just a truly shitty gift. And that's about it for this Christmas, folks... spend your money wisely, and enjoy the lovely gifts you receive! Okay, at least pretend to. I'm sure the myrrh got re-gifted, too.

Hey! I had a night of nothing but cookies and milk! What'd you expect to see?

Merry Christmas!!!

Brought to you by...

Pirates of the Seamen Beer - for when you want a little head in your drink! Arrr!!!

I'm Thinking Gordon Ramsay has owning stock in Fox...

2010-09-09T00:29:00.000-05:00

He was such a nice boy...

There's a few of these... this kid is brilliant.

Don't get me wrong... I'm a big fan. I first discovered him on BBC Canada - he was doing his original "Kitchen Nightmares" series, unedited. I thought - man, I like this guy. Seems like a regular guy kind of chef, if such a thing is possible. Amazing what you see when you're off and bored.


Gordon without the beeps.

Then he exploded on the American TV scene. Hell's Kitchen. Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares. Now Masterchef. On top of this, he owns or has a share in a number of restaurants. Not bad for a guy who once referred to cooking as a "job for poofs." (Brit for gay or whatever term comes to mind.)

He took the chef image from kinda... well, whatever, to...

...borderline serial killer with anger management issues. You know, cool.

He really is a regular guy outside the kitchen though - born in Scotland, he was raised in England in pretty much a working class lifestyle. The whole chef thing came about when his aspirations to be a soccer pro were ruined do to a destructive series of injuries.


Now THAT's how you make a risotto!

I'm not totally sure how he ended up in TV, but in this world of dumpster-baby network reality TV, it's nice to see something I can learn from. I worked in the restaurant industry for a few years (translated:dishwasher) but I saw what it was like on the line in what people thought were nice restaurants. To some degree I'd say you might be better off eating at McDonald's. Sure the food is assembly line shitty, but it's not picked up off the floor shitty. Still, I learned.

Think you have what it f(beep)ing takes? Welcome to hell.

Then I saw Hell's Kitchen for the first time. That's when I realized that no matter how much I love to cook, there is a whole different level that I can barely comprehend. And while the ingredients and recipes don't seem all that difficult, the sheer pressure to hammer them out perfectly to order in very little time is more than I care to do. This coming from a person who had to execute artillery fire missions in 60 seconds or less. Little more room for error there, though. No complaints from those receiving the order I sent out. I saw good cooks - and more than a few bozos - go into the meat grinder on that show. They almost always fell victim to the same foods - risotto, scallops, halibut, and the infamous Wellington.


A proper Ramsay Wellington... gonna have to try one sometime.

Oh, come ON!! If I wanted a plate of dog shit, I'd order one!

So while it's entertaining - I don't think I could do it to that level. Then I saw Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares and it confirmed that there are people who can't begin to fathom that level. (What restaurant serves nuked lasagna? At least two...yuck.)


Guess which one is the guido mooch in the bunch? Hint: not the guy with the tie.

Some of the places were just mismanaged, but others were genuinely disgusting. I shudder to think of the ones the show didn't pick up. Most seemed to survive as a result of his help, though. That's better for those of us who want to dine out. And this summer I was treated to something I thought I'd actually qualify for - Masterchef.

The three Chefs of the Apocalypse...Oregano, Rosemary, and Thyme.

After the first episode - where the would be chefs were weeded out a la American Idol, I knew that I probably would have a difficult time with some of this stuff. These people started out simple enough, but the tasks - off the top of their heads - were tough if you're not used to that style of cooking. And though I cook well, very little of what I do can be done in less than an hour. Maybe I should try Barbeque Pitmasters.


Well, the fat one might like this...

Maybe in a year or two he'll start up a show saving mobile kitchens and vending carts. Can you imagine? "You call that a fucking hot dog??? Get out! Get away!" - New on Fox - Hell's hot dog carts!

Brought to you by...

for when you just give up on finding your penis.

Dr. Laura and my old friend... Karma.

2010-08-19T20:19:00.001-05:00

A Fall from grace... kinda.

Dr. Laura, making a speech... kind of reminds me of someone...

Okay, so I know it's been awhile since I posted, but this was too good to pass up. The infamous Dr. Laura, spoofed in the TV show Fraser, finally lost it on the air, showing the rest of the world what the some of us suspected.

If you've ever had to listen to her - I did, back when I lived in North Dakota (only one radio station was operational after the flood,) you'd know just how rotten a person she is. I would listen in amazement as caller after caller would dial in, get interrupted, then told what a total shit they were because they didn't ascribe to her high moral code.

Funny thing about that moral code of hers - she wasn't always riding that high horse herself. She's been divorced, had several affairs, and even posed for naked pictures...something I have yet to see anyone I know do.

more like Dr. Whore-a, don't you think?

Better yet - she's a fake. Always has been. She does have a PhD. - but it's in physiology, which, last time I checked, had nothing to do with the state of the mind. She's more than qualified to assess the body, though. I guess she just likes to do that on the side. Oh sure, she managed to get a certification in family therapy from the state of California, but that's like buying mouse ears and saying you work for Disney.

So after years of abusing people on air and getting paid well for it, she finally must've believed she was untouchable. I'm not politically correct - far from it. But there are things you don't want to do. A woman, using the caller name Jade, was having trouble in her interracial relationship - she's black, her husband white, and his friends are racist assholes. Which... makes her hubby one by proxy.


Just another day at Jade's house, I reckon...

And... if Dr. Laura had let the woman finish, she might have realized that. Who am I kidding? She would have said the same thing. Just maybe not 11 times. As half of an interracial couple, I personally would have told Jade to take her man aside and put those jackasses in check or lose them. If not, then be ready to lose her. True, it may have killed her marriage, but if it did, then it wasn't worth saving anyway. Besides, it may not have been the word itself she was really bothered by, it was the fact that his friends felt that they could get away with it, maybe to the point of referring to her as one. We'll never really know. What we do know is that it bothered her and Dr. Laura did what she did best - trivialized the problem, humiliated the listener, then finished with that dumb-ass tagline of hers.


Dr. Laura... some gentlemen here to see you. They said Mel sent them.

Welcome to my world - you get to sit in the back of my bus, Laura. Heh- heh- heh... BLOW ME!

She even managed to overshadow Mel Gibson's crazy ass - a man whom I always respected for his acting ability, but couldn't condone his behavior. At least he's usually drunk when he does his dumb shit. What's your excuse, Dr. Laura?

Sarah Palin - comin' at ya with both barrels...

And then there was the total political genius, Sarah "Great White North" Palin, who rushed in with her support. As usual, it was misplaced idiocy. Her words? "Don't retreat, reload!" I can almost hear it in some halfwit cheerleader singsong tone... but unlike you, Dr. Laura, I'm pretty sure she owns a gun or twelve.

Brought to you by...


Intratec tec-9 - for when you wanna say something stupid and back it up.

Late update - thanks George Lopez and Arsenio Hall - this via twitter!

Via @ArsenioOFFICIAL " The famous Dr. Laura caller, had called Laura BEFORE!? Last time the call ended cause Dr Laura called her a "nappy headed Ho" A-Man's List !

Can you believe that shit?

Seaside Heights... we're not all Guidos.

2010-01-24T18:13:00.059-06:00

Some are just Douche-Bags.

Some are both. They're called a "Guidouche." Made it harder to be just a normal guy.

Looks like I'm not the only one.

Funny as Hell.

Special thanks to "Key of Awesome" - check them out on YouTube.

Seaside Heights, NJ... the beach. I rarely actually went on the beach. Umm... during the day.

This was more my playground.... boards at night. More honeypots than a bee farm.

Local honey.

Okay first - let me point something out. There is way more Jersey Shore than just Seaside Heights. You have Point Pleasant, Wildwood, Atlantic City, Island Heights, and Cape May, to name a few. Seaside just happens to be one of the oldest attractions (founded in 1912 and turned into a resort in the early 20's.) And, aside from Atlantic City, one of the only interesting ones. I've been to all of them.

Another busy summer day at Point Pleasant Beach. Woo - hoo.

The only people who call Seaside Heights the Jersey Shore are BENNYs. The acronym stands for: Bayonne, Elizabeth, Newark, New York. It applies to anyone who comes down from up north. (Even you, DJ Paulie D.) Those of us who live nearby simply call it the beach unless someone asks "which beach?" Then we have to cock our heads like a dog hearing something for the first time and grunt "Seaside."

Daytime = locals and assorted old people. You can tell they're not guidos because they get their tan from the sun.

The difference between East coast and West coast boardwalk food - East coast will eventually kill ya, West coast just makes you wish you were dead.

Give you three guesses what the local cuisine influence is.

Had to make sure I got these guys in... awesome food.

I'm thinking that's why the Seaside boardwalk evolved the way it did, though... because of the strong Italian influence in New Jersey and New York, it showed in the way the rest of us recreated. Right down to the food.

You can smell these babies cooking from the lot at the end of the boardwalk. Mmmm.

Best pizza I ever had was in NJ... the one thing I really miss about that place.

I'm not Italian, not even close. Back then, you didn't have to be - just had to have beer, tunes, maybe some weed and a car and the girls flocked. Well, you didn't even need a car, really. That's what the beach was for. Most of the girls I met were local or close at least. The bar there to go to then was the Dutch Mill Inn (burned down a long time ago.) There were what we called "pretty boys," but they just kinda flocked together, acting like idiots and hi-fiving each other. Strangely enough... I don't remember seeing them with any girls. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

The original Guido prototype. Bulletproof hair and Teflon Armani. What? Too soon?

Modern day real NJ Guidos. They didn't make the audition. Too real.

And "Guidos"? Yeah, we had them. It was kind of a tough guy thing there... like a mobster type. Some of them were douches, but most were okay. Just like anyone else. By the way - we didn't make that name up. They did. And I'm pretty sure no self respecting Italian would wear the term Guido as a badge of pride today. Least of all the way it merged into the fuck-mess that it is now. So, my Italian friends past and present, as they say - no disrespect.

Three guidos and a guidouche. Guess which? (hint: Mike) Oompah - loompah- doopity - do, I got another club skank for you...

I saw somewhere that Snooki, one of the girls from the show, offered an explanation on the difference between Guidos and Guidettes. Let me simplify - fake tan, tattoos, over-plucked eyebrows, shaved down, bad makeup, overdone hair, and an obnoxious ignorance that makes you give your head a shake. How do you separate them? Guidettes only act like they have penises.

Q: Can you spot the Guidette? A: Trick question. Trannys don't count.

So, that said, I had to watch this show and see what had everybody in an uproar. The fact that advertisers pulled out is beyond stupid - it only adds to the appeal and thus increases the revenue. People, myself included, had that morbid curiosity all of the sudden: how bad is this train wreck?

First thing I said when I saw this show - "Oh my God! They're using that fucking house? I've been there!"

It's like Friends, but... skeezy.

Turns out, not as bad as I thought. It's no worse than Survivor or Real World or any of those other claustrophobic white trash shows. It's just at the beach. The cast is a - well, can you really call it a cast? That implies acting talent. This is just an assortment of hair gel, makeup, and tanning spray with a few condoms thrown in. If you haven't met them, here they are:

Angelina, Staten Island. She was the closest female to normal.

Jenni, "J-Woww." More like "What the fuck." Has a boyfriend back home, but reminds me of a roller coaster. Everyone gets a ride.

Mike "Situation." The only true Guidouche. Got the shit knocked out of him by Jenni. Will do anyone who comes near him - including some club chick after she gave Vinnie a little treat in the men's room. It's not robbery if you're stealing trash, Mike. (Staten Island.)

Nicole "Snooki", Marlboro, NY. Little Guidette, all hair, push up bras and mouth (which helps explain why she got decked not once, but twice. Not advocating, just saying...) My son, who lives in Toms River (about ten minutes away,) informed me that Snooki is charging 2000.00 a pop to appear with her. For two grand, it better be more than an appearance. On second thought... I'll just keep the money.

DJ Paulie D, Johnston, RI. Probably the closest to the old time Guidos looks-wise, and the only semi-celebrity before he arrived. Not a BENNY - Rhode Island doesn't count. They have enough problems being Rhode Island.

Ronnie, Bronx, NY. Seems like a nice guy most of the time - but the Bronx comes out more often than it should. By the way - that guy who heckled him until they fought on the boardwalk - a cop. He beat down a cop. Middletown Township. They must be so proud. He is the closest anyof the guys get to having a relationship.
Now if he could lose the Dairy Queen swirl on top of his head...

Sammi, Hazlet, NJ. Almost a BENNY. Very insecure, but seems to be a sweet girl just the same. For a Jersey Girl. Ronnie's uh... girlfriend, hookup, whatever. "Situation" said he was gonna rob her from Ronnie. She's not your type, man... she doesn't have a mustache.

Vinnie, Staten Island. Shouldn't even be here. He's not off his mamma's titty yet. Nice kid, though.

To MTV's credit, they did see to it that they embarrassed Atlantic City as well. I can see it now... "Hey! Who let the orange monkeys in da casino???" The only thing that sucks is that they are promoting this as the way of life there. I guess the upside is that for those on the hunt for women, Seaside will be a hotspot when season two rolls around. Just remember, ladies, when you come down to the "Jersey Shore," you're not really likely to get what you see... you're more likely to get this:

They may not be the prettiest crew, but they are one thing: real.

Accept it. You'll have fun. Just remember the next time you might think about visiting the shore - Snooki's waiting... and bring 2000.00. (No one's taken her up on it yet.)

Brought to you by...

Hello Kitty Pizzas. For when you're feeling hungry and just a little gay.

Well, you didn't think I wouldn't do Christmas, did you?

2009-12-21T23:46:00.024-06:00

Well, first...

Krampus Greetings!

The Germans really know how to make their kids behave... if you're on his list, you're only on once.

Nothing like a little good ol' fashioned terror at Christmastime... be aware, though... Santa can kick his ass! Apparently, if you were a bad kid, according to myth, Krampus would steal you from bed, lick you, stuff you in his basket, and kill you. Rumors say that he's the great uncle of the Grinch.... though without the roasting kids part. (Okay, I made that part up, but I'm thinking Cindy Lou Who might of second guessed speaking to him if it were true.)

Cindy Lou Who, who needed a condiment or two.

So I'm looking up stuff for this post, and I had to add Happy Kwanzaa as well, even though I wasn't really sure what it was. Turns out I'm older than the holiday for one... so I had to learn and see if I could poke fun at it, too.

First, I research funny images. Turns out that while there are a lot of images, Kwanzaa doesn't really have any funny ones, unless you hang out with your friends wearing bedsheets with eyeholes. I did find one...

That's pretty much what most people ask...

... but I learned more about the holiday, and was struck by some of it. Well, more the similarities between it and existing holidays where the founders are long since history.

Typical Kwanzaa feast and men - uhh.. kinara in the background.

Typical Hanukkah feast with menorah the background. The foods are different though.

Kwanzaa's founder is still alive. He created it in 1966 to... well, I'll let you draw your own conclusions. It begins on December 26th (don't wanna interrupt Christmas, I guess,) and ends on New Year's day. There are philosophies and tenets to be observed (like in Christmas and Hanukkah,) and the season is filled with eating and imbibing (like the whole Christmas season.) Aside from its principles and the fact that it has no basis in religion whatsoever, it's pretty popular. Well, kinda. The stats I could find post that approximately 1-5% of 10% of the U.S. population actually celebrate it. Yet it still was easier to find a Kwanzaa card than a fucking girlfriend Christmas card... and they even had cards for the mailman!

Okay, enough of all that... now on to why I'm here! My gift to you...

Ahhh... the gift that keeps on giving.

I had a different caption for that, but I found a better image for what I wanted to write...

Merry Christmas! Ho, Ho...Ho. Yeah. I really wrote that.

And I saw this image of Santa... but it made me think of something else.

"The girl is want, the boy, ignorance. Beware them both Ebenezer, but beware the boy most..."

But when I saw the next image, I had to ask why...

I'm thinking Santa is actually a Canadian...

...at least, at first I did. Then I realized - after working all night, he had to come home to this:

Mrs. Claus, with an ummm... little gift of her own. Step awa-ay from the shortbreads!

And finally, people. Please. Stop dressing up your dogs and cats. They hate it and it's not cute. How would you like it if they made you go around sniffing one anothers' asses?

Dude... makin' me sell fucking tacos wasn't enough for you? They give me the shits! Now you got me looking like Carmen Miranda? Just... please. Kill me.

What are you bitching about? I'm a fucking Episcopalian! Look at me! What I would give for opposable thumbs and a Glock...

Christmas is being brought to you by...

Lucky Strike cigarettes. Toasted for great tobacco goodness, and introducing a new reindeer, Cancer! Merry Christmas to all...

H1N1, Swine Flu, whatever. I got it.

2009-11-05T14:29:00.015-06:00

Sort of says it all.

(Well, it's kinda like they way they said AIDS started... what? Too soon?)

So here I am. Sitting at home for the seventh day, sick and waiting to get better so I can resume my life. Why? Because I have the dreaded H1N1... granted, it's nearing the end, but it's getting better.

(I didn't get this....)

(...or wear this - hers is cool, but why get it pierced?)

(So... I ended up getting this. Not the woman, the symptom. Where's your mind, anyway?)

It's my second flu of the year. First, I had the seasonal, which the vaccine isn't out for yet, because everyone was running around trying to get ready for H1N1. Okay, fine. But I want my other vaccine when it's ready, right? I mean, they had a whole year to prepare... oh, wait. That's right. This isn't as new as anyone thinks.

(Gerald Ford getting his shot in '76 - the only brain death.)

The last Swine Flu was in 1976. 40 million people in the US were vaccinated. One person died from the disease, and 30 died from the vaccination. Yeah... that works.

(...and we will continue to use swine biological weapons against the imperialist humans until they free our brothers at ALL bacon camps... REVOLUTION!)

Well, I thought, let them try this one out. See who it kills, and if I don't fit that group, then I'll get it.

Every day I listened to the news, read the news, saw it on the internet, whether I wanted to or not - the Swine Flu was coming like a Hollywood premiere to my town soon. And to make it sound more ominous, they gave it a spooky name: H1N1. Mysterious. So mysterious it only gets letters and numbers in its name. Much scarier than swine flu, which sounds like a pig with a runny nose.

The media ran with it. Every fucking day. They are still doing it. A fair number of people I know have had it, and we're all still alive. Why? Because, in the end, it's just a fucking flu. Granted, if I hadn't ended up with it, I wouldn't have a lung infection now, but I'm not smoking, so I guess everything has a purpose. At least I'm immune. Well, until it mutates.

(Standing in the rain here in Canada, waiting for their flu shot. Yeah. Smart.)

We have the vaccine here in Canada, and right here in Manitoba in fact. But the government, in it's infinite wisdom, keeps stepping on its collective dick. First, they shipped H1N1 supplies to the Northern Reserves, who were happy to receive priority on this "pandemic" until they started opening the boxes.

(This is what they expected...)

(This is what they got... and no, it's not a suit bag.)

Imagine their surprise. I can't begin to fathom what mental process read one and did the other. It worked out for them, though. They actually ended up getting their full dosage of vaccines.

What about the rest of us? Well...

We were prioritized. If you were say, indigent, a baby, old, or health compromised, you got a shot. Basically, mostly people who don't pay for it. Not all bad news - firemen, healthcare workers and civil servants got them. Well, not ALL civil servants.

(You're more likely to get H1N1 from this guy...)

(...than this guy. But hey, cheer up, there's always Hep C, right?)

Teachers wanted priority too. They felt that dealing with unhygienic booger machines on a daily basis entitled them to their shot. They'll probably get it. Which means that I, along with the bulk of Canadians, wait. Why? Because they found that there wasn't enough to go around once the priority people were taken care of. Well, at least the guy bumming a dollar from you won't give you the flu...

Some decided to take the easy way out and queue jump - the Health Ministry took a firm stand on that, though. They said don't do that. And if you do, we can't turn you away. Uh-huh... about as firm as room temperature butter.

I took the tough way and decided to get sick instead. Well... I didn't exactly choose it. It chose me. And admittedly, I was a little worried... I mean, this is a major pandemic, right? End of the world and all that happy shit?

Not really. Seasonal flu kills more people. Last year's designer flu, the Avian or bird flu, had 429 clinical cases. 262 died. That's almost 65% mortality compared to the less than 7% mortality of this year's designer, H1N1. Not quite a pandemic.

Listen up, you jackasses at CNN and other news outlets - this is a pandemic. Malaria. It affected (clinically) 120 MILLION people in 2009, and killed 800,000. In one year. It's been around since 450 B.C. at least. But no one cares about that one... maybe we can give it a cool new name.

Want a really scary disease? Try Ebola, Zaire strain. This particularly nasty disease literally liquefies everything in the body except bone and skeletal muscle. Kills you in 21 days, no cure. 80% mortality rate (how anyone survives is beyond me.) But, since it, like Malaria, really only affects African and Third World countries, no one really gives a shit.

Oh, should I have not said that aloud?

Anyway, I've been sick since Friday and am slowly healing. I can't wait - I can only take so much of Maury Povich and "who my baby daddy is" - though I do like Judge Mathis. Come next week, I'll be healed and immune.

Then they can take my shot and give it to a cop.

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Birthday BBQ at Levera beach and an experiment in gullibility...

2009-08-16T16:59:00.070-05:00

Tiny Paradise in a big sea...

Map of Grenada - the road trip, from Grand Anse to Levera Beach... long drive!

So here it was, the day after the wedding. We woke up and went to breakfast, chatting about the day ahead - a beach barbecue (or barbeque, depending on where you're from) for Len's birthday. A large tour bus showed up and we ambled out, dressed for the day - and it rained. I mean - raaaaiiiiinnnned. Did that stop us? Hell no! This is Grenada! It don't rain all day here!

Looka de crazy people on de bus... goin' to de beach in de rain. Stupid tourists.

Ummm... we were wrong.

Outside Gouyave - out of focus because of - you guessed it - rain.

Even the cows didn't want to be out in this...

...but I don't think this guy had a choice.

The Grand View staff raced on ahead of us in separate vehicles with the food, and we cruised along the narrow roads in this large silver bus. It was a long ride, and you can't do that without a pit stop - translated, someone has to pee. And smoke. Or both. But not at the same time. Trouble is, there's not a lot of places to pop into (like a McDonald's) where you can unload a bus of people and have them line up. So... we stopped at a police station.

Bet this town never thought they'd play host to the Urinator...

After a brief discussion and a few pee-pee dances, they let those of us who had to go, go. Funny... when I was standing outside having a smoke, I saw a cop car pull up with someone in the back. They let him hang out in the car while they went inside for a minute. Different mentality - the guy just rolled down the window and stayed there. I don't know about Canada, but you'd never see that in the states... he wasn't even bothered being back there. Oh well. It is an island - where's he gonna go?

To most people this is the island off Levera beach, a beautiful place ( I think Gilligan is still there.)

Water crashing on the rocks... I think I saw a volleyball with a face drawn on it there...

Then, as we closed in on Levera beach, the miracle of miracles happened - the rain stopped! Though there were some clouds, the sun shone through, and it looked like we were gonna have a fun day. Speaking of fun, this is where Amanda, a.k.a. Sunshine, comes in. The target: Gabrielle, her cousin.

Gabrielle, doe eyed and gullible as a trout in a fishing pond.

It started the night before, when we were headed up from the wedding. She noticed that her watch time didn't correspond to the SUV's clock and said she didn't understand why she couldn't get the right time. "That's because time as we know it doesn't exist here," I replied innocently, meaning that you don't pay attention to the clock there like you do at home. Time literally doesn't feel like it exists. I didn't expect her reaction, though.

"Really? Serious?"
Oh, I got a nibble. Tee-hee.
"Seriously. They don't have time here. No calenders, clocks, nothing. You didn't notice?"
The big doe eyed look.
"No really. Serious?"
Pause. A tug on the line.
"Oh yeah, that's why your watch doesn't work here."
She looks at Kim in the front seat, then back at me. Kim smiles and shrugs her shoulders.
"Wow..."
Reel it in!
So you know I had to have more fun with her the next day.

...but actually, it's Amanda's Island. And she kicked Gilligan off.

It started when we stepped off the bus. Gabrielle was right behind me and saw the island. "Wow," she said. "What do they call that?" she asked, pointing to the island.
I cast the line. Looked at Amanda.
"Oh, that's Amanda's island. "
Doe eyes again. Almost felt like I had Bambi in a 10x gunsight. I smiled.
"What? That's Amanda's? Serious?"
Clear shot. (Notice how I switch to hunting?) Amanda nods, almost as if on cue.
"Yup," Amanda says casually. "Grandad gave it to me."
Long pause as the tiny gears of her 15 year old mind grind along, trying to comprehend the information.
"Serious?"
Now Amanda sights her down too. She grins at me. Something conspiratorial, almost evil in a fun way.
"Oh yeah,"she replied. " That's all mine. "
BLAM! BLAM!
We both struck at the same time and she fell for it like a deer at a salt lick.
"Wow... holeee..."
Later I told Kim about it, and she decided to get a shot in. See, there's another island -

That's Annette... and in front of her, Annette's Island. Gilligan never went there.

- so Kim added to the fun. As they set up the boat...

The boat... almost pretty enough to be an oil painting. Wait... it usually is!

Kim and I started talking withing earshot of Gabrielle. We chatted about Amanda's Isle (actually I think it's called Sugarloaf) and Kim, without missing a beat, pointed out Annette's island. Annette was standing nearby and didn't comment (Kim already told her about it) and kept a totally straight face. Gabrielle listened, nearly broke her own neck looking over at the islands, and muttered...
"Wow..."
Sucker.
Yeah, it's not fair to play that on a fifteen year old. Sort of. But she's fifteen. No one can be that gullible. Or can they? Later that night, she came up and said tha she found out it wasn't Amanda's Island. How could it be?
"Oh, it's part of the estate. Mr. Griffith's an important man here. You want to see the deed and title? I can get him to show you," I replied.
Silence for a moment.
"Wow..."
Like fishing with dynamite....

Soon the grill was set up in the boat and Emanuel was cooking-

Emanuel and Aunty Linda making wings and potato salad in the boat/grill. Damn good food... and Emanuel is one of the best chefs I've ever met. Hilarious, too.

- and making some of the best wings I've ever eaten. And I'm a wing eater from way back. We all enjoyed the meal -

A montage of life as it should be. Fun and never ending.

Anthony, or GT, (left) one of Len's main staffers - the guy can fix anything. Center - Ann, and the man of the day, Len (right.)

Len, watching the beach and making sure those kids didn't engage in too much stupidness. (Yeah, he looks casual, but he always does. Don't doubt for a minute that the man isn't on top of things.)

And there's the ever present beach dog... we fed him bits of chicken.

- and had some fun on the beach. The water was great, and there were activities on the beach, like making a "Sandman"...

Jordan (under the sand) lays calmly as Ian (center) and his brother Micheal and sister "Gullible" Gabrielle make him into a "he-man!"

Or... maybe a she-male. (Yes, if you look reeeaaalll close... you can tell.)

...or just doing things in the sand.

Liz, a.k.a. "Taxi Girl", trying to dig her way to freedom in Switzerland.

Pretty soon it was time to make the long journey back. So everyone settled into the bus...

Gabrielle dreams of the day she can get her own island...

Emanuel (dude, I hope I'm spelling your name right,) and GT took off ahead of time. We deliberately delayed a bit, then piled back on the bus. The ride back was a bit quieter. People were recharging their batteries (oddly enough, mostly the younger among us.) I took a few pics, some of historic significance.

A 153 year old cathedral, now a ruin, is still beautiful.

A couple of damaged Cuban planes still line the old airfield, a reminder of the past. What you call it depends on who you are. I call it old planes.

Some were just remarkable.

The valley leading down toward Grenada's Sports Stadium. Hell of a drop...

We made it back with one more stop (to pee, of course) and everyone split off to their rooms. Dinner was at eight, but the restaurant was going to be closed. That didn't mean the kitchen wasn't busy, however.

Emanuel and Kellan (the other chef, also awesome) were busy setting up a buffet for a party. Rachel, the Pirate's Cove bartender, arranged it. You know how hard it is to keep a secret in a fishbowl? We pulled it off, though... total surprise. Len had no idea... as far as we know.

Tuck, (left) our resident rum "expert," leads the charge in a surprise welcome into the sports bar, where the party was held.

Kim lends a hand serving up goodies alongside Kellan (midright.)

The food came out, and soon the party was underway... and Rachel brought out the cake.

Wait.... I'm older than seven...where's she gettin' her information?

Len, a happy man on a happy day. Thanks for everything...

The night was great, and we all had a wonderful time. The food was excellent, and the guys at the Jolly Roger Sports bar were terrific in helping us out. Since is the last blog post about the visit, I wanted to thank everyone there for their hard work and just being great people to be around. And to GT - bumps.

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Fun and "Stupidness", The day before... and the Wedding!

2009-07-29T19:18:00.089-05:00

Lovers in Paradise.

Annette and Brandon, the newlyweds. Love this shot.

Before we get into this tale, I want to thank Khara and Emir, the wedding photographers for catching some really nice shots. The link to their site is posted at the end of this blog.

Why were we here again?

Time was flying, and we were so busy doing important things like -

shopping...

and posing...

...and more shopping...

..and posing in front of cool places while we smoked...

Kim, Len, Me, and a stray girl we called Sam.

...or even hanging out in the restaurant on breezy evenings. I personally was not adverse to bringing my own version of tomfoolery, or borrowing Len's word - stupidness - in just for fun.

Rum makes you wear silly hats and look like a... Stupid Tourist. Thanks to Rachel (with the rum)- she's a great person!

So here we are, in Paradise, and there seems to be no calendar, no clocks. Time is abstract there. Then it hit us... oh shit! The wedding... when is that? Turned out - two days. We actually only had a vague idea of what was gonna happen, and no clue as to when. Fortunately, we came to the room to find -

Preplanned fun for everyone!

- an itinerary for the wedding activities had been delivered. Glanced at it and realized - this was gonna be fun!

The Day Before...

For the guys, the day started as normal. There wasn't anything really scheduled for us, but the girls had a whole day planned out : Spa day, followed by decorating the cake. The cake layers were actually baked in the restaurant, and we brought fondant (shapeable frosting) down from here. I think half our luggage was stuff for the wedding.

The bride has arrived... you may take your seats.

One of the rooms were set up for an aromatherapy/massage, and just below it, at poolside, the women were able to get manicures and pedicures.

Annette looking regal during her pedicure with her friend Amanda alongside.

The guys? We just did whatever. The day wouldn't start for us till later that afternoon. I did hang out at the pool later (yes, there's a pic of that - no, I won't post it. Even I have limits.) After the women pretty much wrapped up there, some of them met in the hotel conference room with the cake, fondant, beer, and "Sunset Juice."

The bride's party decorating the wedding cake with Carib on the side...

The guys - well, we had it a little harder. Open tab at the sports bar, and free pool.

Kim's cousins Neal, Langston, and her cousin Carol's (a.k.a. Urkel) husband shooting a round. Yup, slot machines.

Roman hammering a shot in...

...and the one he almost made. Like standing a dime on it's edge. He begged me not to take this picture. Now they all know, Roman...

Ian, Kim's nephew, goes for the long eight - and scratches. That's okay. I remember when I had my first beer.

A few hours later, we all met in the restaurant for dinner and...

Annette, Kim, and Amanda... my baby and her babies. (Shut up. I liked that.)

... crab races! Crab races? What the hell are you talking about, Ed? It's pretty much what it sounds like. You clear the tables, make a big chalk circle on the floor, and get the racers -

The racers - hermit crabs. They look like rocks, but they move. Unless you have money on them.

The guy running the race takes bets, and they turn the bowl over in the center of the circle with the crabs underneath. There are three races: fastest, slowest, and one where only one person can bet on the crab they pick. The big money race. Then they get a kid to lift the bowl. Brandon's son, Reese, did it first.

4 year old finds a way to get rid of crabs - full story at 11!

I did good the first race - won twenty bucks. Broke even on the second, because my retarded ass crab decided just before he won that he wasn't gonna be the last one out. Okay, still good. Bet it all on crab 5, a fair sized power crab. He'll turn these other guys into bisque. What I didn't know was that when the bowl came up, he'd have a passenger. Kim's sister, Liz, had a crab too, and it was riding mine! He couldn't take the load, though he came in second. Liz's daughter, Brynn, won. I still sense conspiracy.

Annette, attending Crab Race Downs.

The race I won - 2-1 odds.

The next morning we went to breakfast, and being rainy season, we half expected some form of deluge. It comes in hard, pounds the place, then is over in minutes. Usually only once a day. Usually. Preparations began. The kitchen went into overdrive as the day crew began moving the stuff needed to Morne Rouge beach.

Morne Rouge beach, where the wedding was held.

Same tree with paper lanterns... and no event would be complete without a Grenada beach dog!

While they were preparing the site, they set up paper lanterns in the trees. The lanterns had little led lights that made them glow, but everyone forgot one thing. Batteries. The race was on. In the end we managed to gather 96 AAA's....

Assorted goodies, including the cake and rum punch.

The aisle...

Everything was perfect. Beautiful. Everybody began to get ready in their rooms...

Brandon getting his son Reese ready...

Amanda doing her big sister's hair on her important day...

All dressed up and ready to go!

Annette's so happy she appears to be floating. No, wait.... she IS floating!

I didn't see what was going on - they were in the floor above me. So was Kim.

Even I suited up. (Hey, it is Narcissism Central... I even took this myself. No surprise.)

Unfortunately, though most everyone invited showed, Annette's special VIP guests - the Baroness Bronte Beatrice VonBlatt and her brother, Baron Bosworth Beaucefus VonBlatt were unable to attend.

The VonBlatts only fly First Class.

American Airlines insisted that they remain seated for the duration of the flight, not realizing that they are not allowed on the furniture. They did get their money back, though.

Soon everyone was ready... and then it rained. Not any kind of rain. A total fucking deluge. Not good. Fortunately, it only lasted about ten minutes. Unfortunately, it destroyed the lights in the paper lanterns. So much for the batteries. With the wedding about an hour and a half away, we could only hope that everything would dry off. It did.

The entourage exits the preparation area.

We approach the beach and are greeted by this...

Says it all....

What's a Caribbean wedding without steel drums?

The wedding wasn't conventional in the sense that there wasn't a row of turquoise taffeta bridesmaids and overdressed ushers. The wedding party was of three: Annette, Brandon, and Reese. Reese? The boychild? What was he, the ringbearer? No... he was literally part of the wedding. The bond was of three. I found that refreshing.

Len giving away the bride.

Listening as the pastor speaks...

Most often, when a couple marries and a child is involved, the child is either relegated to the front row or maybe given a token task. Reese was an actual part of the bond formed that day...

"I love you when you're sweaty, and way too gross to hold..."

...as Annette, Brandon and Reese read a a book they made called "I love You When"... a touching and funny moment. The caption above is an actual line from the book. After that, they did something else I have never seen...

Finalizing the bond between them.... with spice necklaces.

Grenada is the "Spice Isle," so it only seemed natural to use necklaces made of spices to demonstrate the family bond. It was unique, and while I don't know for sure if it's a common thing there, it is definitely something I would include in a wedding... goes beyond just a pair of gold bands, and the child is part of it as well. Plus, they smell nice.

Then came the scene we are familiar with... like reading of the vows (though they added a comedic touch to it) -

"..if you accept the terms and conditions of this licensing agreement..."

Okay, maybe she didn't actually say that. Then there were the rings -

"With this ring I accept the terms of the licensing agreement..."

Okay, he didn't say that, either. Just seemed to fit, and sometimes I can't stop. Finally, they kissed, locking the bond between them.

And so begins their life together... as husband and wife.

Annette's bridal shoes - she lives in Nebraska. Ruby slippers... girl's got a sense of humor.

A great beginning for some great people.

The reception was held on the beach, with buffet style hors d'oeuvre - everything from lobster salad to samosas to shrimp and chicken kabobs and too many other foods to name. The Grand View kitchen staff really came through...

The buffet table... unbelievably good food!

There was one more formality, the witnessing -

Li'l sis Amanda signs off on the witnessing as the pastor, Brandon, and Annette look on.

Everyone made it through the buffet line, got their drinks, and champagne was brought around. It was time to toast the bride and groom, and the man to do it was Len. The man is funny...

Len proposing the toast just as..

..and as he hit his funniest line, there was a huge BOOM! And this is what we saw -

Ironic that the wedding took place on the 4th of July...

A full blown fireworks display. It was unbelievable, and a total surprise. One of the final events after the display was the cake cutting, also a family event.

Reese cuts the first slice.

Not long after that, we all went back up to the hotel for an after party - just a few drinks at the sports bar. It was a great day, a great event, and everything - including the fireworks - was handled by the Grand View Inn. Thanks. It was a day that none of us will ever forget.

And Annette, Brandon, and Reese? I wish you all a wonderful life together... and maybe the VonBlatts will get to Grenada one day, too.

If they can lay on the floor.

Much love to the two of you...

images courtesy of kabloom studios where so indicated by watermark.

Sponsored by:

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free poured shot or so of rum (none of that measured shit)
REAL juice or juice blend - preferably orange, mango, and passionfruit
club soda
Ting (where available) or Sprite

In a tall glass, drop in some ice, pour the rum, add some club soda (till the bubbles rush up,) then add some juice till you get about an inch and a half from the top. Top it off with Ting, stir, and enjoy!

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More of Grenada, the Grand View, and Loverboy.

2009-07-26T00:23:00.046-05:00

Grand View Inn from across Grand Anse Bay.

The central building of the Grand View, the restaurant, is the three story building in the middle of the photo. The rest of the inn is on either side and behind it (every building except the ones on the far right.)

Lennox Griffith, the owner of the Grand View Inn. A great guy who will do everything he can to make your stay enjoyable.

Len's dogs - two sweethearts. Wherever you see them, you'll most likely find him.

I was stupid. While at the Grand View, I took pics of all kinds of parts of the place, but none of the whole place. I mean, I took this one, but when I first saw it in the computer, I thought it unusable. I shot it from across the bay and there was a haze that day, but thanks to image enhancing (which I didn't even know came with this laptop - and I've had it for four years, duuuh...) I was able to make a legible photo out of it. Before I did that though, I decided to see if I could find something online, and in my virtual travels, I realized something. Most new travelers are assholes.

1. Obnoxious shirt, stupid hat, rudeness and too much alcohol = stupid tourist. 2. A gaggle of tourists in their nesting place, usually some form of amusement park.

How can you say that, Ed? You ask. Weren't you a traveler too? You ask. Yes I was, and am. I've been to and lived in Germany and all over the U.S., Canada, and now I can add Grenada to my list. The difference is that I bothered to learned the difference between where I came from and where I'm going. These jackasses think that everywhere they travel in the world they'll be staying in the sterile equivalent of a Holiday Inn Express or Best Western (mind you, there is a pretty new Best Western in Grenada, but it's fenced in and abandoned... oh well! What's that tell you?) The reality of places outside their suburban cookie cutter homes and antibacterial lifestyles is that the rest of the world doesn't work that way. When in Germany, I learned to speak German, so I could at least shop with some confidence - and if you stumble on the language, they help you. Why? Because you at least made the effort. I was stunned to read that some asshole actually referred to locals as seeing you only as a dollar sign. Why? Because you show up, map in hand, sunburned and sweaty, wearing sandals with black socks and a tropical shirt and expect no one to notice you? Face it, jackass, some people make a living from tourists. Some - the smiling guys who tell you your worries are over, are actually tour guides who work in tandem with local bus drivers and given the chance, will show you the island and treat you to a nice time. These charismatic guys (and I mean that, I was amused and impressed by them) are what they call the conductors.

Grenadian tour buses - mostly independent, if they don't have a conductor, they're taxis. Most have funny names on them... and yes, they're vans, but perfect for the roads and terrain.

If you don't want a tour, just say no thanks, and they'll move on to the next potential customer. No harm done. Is that so hard? As tourist destinations go, Grenada is very easygoing. Try taking a trip to Kissimee, Florida and Disney world/land whatever. Same fucking place, different location. There AMERICANS will mark up everything 500% just to capitalize on your dumb ass! Grenada - 4.00 EC for a soda (about 1.50 US) and at any US amusement park, same soda - 6.00... US. Uhhhh...who's seeing who as a dollar sign? And these same pinheads wonder why people don't like Americans...

Morne Rouge Bay, from our balcony. wonderful sunsets...

Grand Anse Bay, from one of the hotel rooms in the 40's block. You can see the morning rain crossing the bay.

Okay, tangent is over. I just hate to see good people get slammed like that. Where was I? Ahhh... the Grand View. There's not a lot written about the place, even though it has the best views (both Morne Rouge and Grand Anse bays) and easy walkable access to both. They even have a nice pool -

Very nice, and rarely crowded, perfect place for some sun and a -

-Carib, the national beer of Grenada. Probably one of the best beers I've ever had... and I lived in Germany.

A Carib shack - no mystery there, and convenient, too!

These two photos courtesy of Grenada beaches.com

- but if you have little to no base color, use sunscreen. Use it often. Caribbean sun ain't like what we have here - it will melt you. And if you do - fuck that spray-on shit. Wanna see what happens when you use that? Lemme show you...

As you can see, spray-on allows you to miss spots. I ended up with 2nd degree sunburns and the nickname "Patches"... thanks, Kim and Amanda...

This was after two hours at the pool. Midday. Bad idea. Needless to say, I used cream after that... and I was only drinking Ting at the time.

Some of the flora right outside the restaurant - it's everywhere and smells wonderful.

The Grand View's grounds are beautiful and bountiful. At any given time you can find some type of fruit growing there, from limes to grapefruits to coconuts to mangoes... and let me tell you - nothing tastes better than a really fresh mango.

Coconut tree on the grounds....

Feeling good after a day of walking down at the Carenage or touring the island, snorkeling on Grand Anse or just hanging at the pool? Time to head up to the sports bar, maybe have a Carib or two before the Pirate's Cove Restaurant opens. It's only one floor down.

Shooting a little pool and on a beautiful afternoon...

Finishing breakfast in the Pirate's Cove.

There is also a boutique and mini mart on premises. You can also get a taxi or rent a car to go into town. Up in the restaurant they have a bar for those who like a drink with their dinner, or just like to have a few on the balcony.

At right, the Pirate's Cove restaurant bartender, the ever riotous Rachel, and Kim's sister Liz, a.k.a. Taxi Girl.

Personally, I recommend Len's home made rum punch - but be careful. It's delicious, but not for the timid. They don't believe in measured shots here. And with rum punch, there's no measuring at all.

Yeah, it looks innocent enough... rum punch. And it packs one.
Image courtesy of David Sanger.com

Of course, not all life centered in the Inn. We explored quite a bit, and I learned a lot about the place. There is an incredible amount of history on the island, and even over two weeks, I couldn't hope to learn half of it.

Taken as we entered Gouyave - an entertaining town known for its Friday Fish Fests. Hell of a party - wish I had stopped there. A local friend lives there and told me about it. Sorry about the blur - it was raining at the time.

Told you the roads were tight... and that's for two way traffic. Thanks, European influence...

A distant shot of Fort George, one of two forts on the island.

A small colorful cafe, one of many.

As you can see, the island is full of color and life, and in many places, history.

A small sample of the massive amounts of colorful flora.

Straight drop from the edge of the road... into a steep valley.

One of the places we went to was Grand Etang. It's known for tours down to the falls -

Annandale falls... make sure you got good shoes and water....

A gorgeous view of Grand Etang lake, a former volcano -

Yeah, me again. Blocking the fucking shot. Stupid tourist.

Two shots of the flowers surrounding us...

And who can forget the monkeys? See, in the Grand Etang area (my knowledge is limited here) there is a breed of monkey, called the Mona Monkey.

One of the first ones we met - a chronic banana thief and masturbator.

They're friendly, albeit shy for the most part. The younger monkeys must have seen us coming, because they waited in the edge of the bamboo forest to snatch the bananas we baited them with and pissed off before anyone could get a clean shot. Roman, one of the guys in our group, got a shot of Kim and myself with a monkey rubbing one out in the background. No, even if I had it, I wouldn't post it. Frustrated, the younger ones decided to head down to the falls for an excursion. Kim and I waited and paid a small fee to visit the plantation house, now a visitors center.

The plantation house/visitors center, where you can get a terrific view of the lake without the sweat.

The kids (okay, I just call them that because they're younger) were down pounding it out, sweating through their tourist death march while we took our time and strolled around. And on our way back to the cafe, who should we meet?

Loverboy!

He just kind of ambled out of the forest and sat in the road. I froze, wanting a great pic, but had no idea what I was in for... especially when he began walking toward me. Back of my mind: what was that movie where monkeys spread ebola? He allowed the shot though, then went straight to Kim and leaned forward so she could scratch his back. It was like I wasn't even there.

Just as he got to her... we were both stunned. And secretly thrilled - we got the shot everyone wanted! Woo-hoo!

Kim and I petting Loverboy, and no... he's not dead.

He's quite the character, though... if you're scratching the wrong spot or stop, he reaches around and points to where he wants you to continue. We had won the battle of the Monkey Shots, hands down. And now we have a friend in Loverboy.

Time seemed to flash by, and soon we were coming upon the wedding...

Welcome to the Spice Island... the first few days.

2009-07-12T18:09:00.034-05:00

No Obscene Language. Yeah, right. Fuck.

(Uh, huh.. they ARE some white ass legs. I know. Shut it.)

Before I start this installment, I thought I might create a cast of characters. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely intentional, as they do exist.

Ed - me. But you already know that.
Kim - my girlfriend.
Amanda, a.k.a. "Sunshine" a.k.a. "the Golden Child" (the only person I ever saw visibly tan) - my girlfriend's daughter.
Len - a.k.a. Lennox, a.k.a. Mr. Griffith, the owner of the Grand View Inn ( and Kim's daddy.)

So I thought things were going to be rough at the start, what with the lost (umm... lost. Right. That's it) luggage and all. There's two final stops - Grenada is very good at keeping H1N1 out - just better hope you don't have a smokers cough when you see the customs and immigration people, and you have to fill out a document. Probably the only place on the planet without at least one case. (No, that's not sarcasm, I'm actually impressed. I know. Fine line with a person like me.) I get through one, then BECAUSE I HAVE A LAPTOP - which no one ever checked - I get sent to the red line. Everyone made it - except me. Why was I not surprised? The red line had about thirty people in it. The night was about to get real long. Then, as I settled at the end, the same woman came to me and mumbled something, mentioned a name (won't say who, mostly because I'm not totally sure I heard right in the first place) and put me back in the green line, which except for me, was empty. I was in Grenada! Woo-hoo!

I stepped into the air for the first time. Humid, but pleasant and really clean. Joyful sounds of family meeting for the first time in awhile. And as I walked, the sweet chirp of cabbies asking if I needed a ride. I mean, it's an airport, right?

Inside the Pirate's Cove restaurant... shot from the balcony. That's right, you even get a view while you eat.

So we get into the vehicles that came to meet us and drive to the Grand View Inn. After a long day, I figured maybe sandwiches... no. They had a full dinner for us, fresh and hot. I was offered the option of chicken or fish - living where I do, fish is a disappointment - but I felt adventurous. Fish. I was not disappointed - a delicate tuna steak, marinated and grilled. Absolutely wonderful! Who knew? Guess it pays to have local fishermen - yes, fishermen, they're all men there. One whole side of the restaurant is open to Grand Anse bay... and it's beautiful at night.

My first pic - Grand Anse bay at night.

Same place the next morning - yeah, I know I used it in the last blog. Wouldn't you?

Every room has a view. And they're bigger than half the apartments in Manhattan.

- and settled in for the night. Okay, collapsed. The next morning we showered, went to breakfast with the early arriving family members, and planned out the day. Well, sort of.

The restaurant balcony. Spent a lot of time here. The cluttered table - that was me.

We needed - well, I only needed one of them - EC dollars and a Grenadian license. I just wanted the money. Kim and her daughter, Amanda, wanted their license too. I didn't want one, and here's why...

This and 30.00 EC is what you need (those are the wedding photographers...I "borrowed" this pic and the next one too.)

EC money - all I really wanted. That's the photog's website in the corner.

It only took a few minutes to notice what I didn't see in my exhausted haze the night before: we're on the wrong side of the road! (Well, to me, anyway.) Realization: UK style. And the roads are as narrow as European city streets, tightly curved. But the locals can take them like they're straight open freeways. In fact, even though there are places where a white line with the word STOP painted on the road, this is purely optional, and should be viewed more as a yield. Helpful hint, if you don't want to get rear ended. Good stuff to know if you plan to get a Grenadian license. To be honest, I had enough of that in 3 years of driving through Germany. I was more than happy to be chauffeured for two weeks.

No, it's not backwards. Yes, I'm riding bitch (Amanda's driving.)

So after about ten minutes of waiting, the ladies come out, licenses in hand. We head to the bank - and I find out it's a Scotia, a common bank here in Canada. I give the teller 260.00 Canadian and get 586.00 EC. Woo-hoo! I feel rich! Turns out things are a little more expensive in EC, but still less than I'd pay in good ol' Canada. Cigarettes, for instance. Here - 100.00 a carton, roughly. Duty free for Marlboro mediums 50.00. In Grenada - for Marlboro reds, my favorite - about 40.00. I wish I knew that before I got to Grenada. Before I left, I gave my duty free carton (or part of it, I used some) to one of the groundskeepers, a funny guy who had a habit of borrowing a smoke from Kim and taking another for later. I think he was in smoker heaven after that. During the first day or two, I was also introduced to my new favorite soft drink, Ting.

On our balcony - an unexpected delight.

Someone asked if I'd like to try one. It was hot - duh - so I took it and gulped it down. Then I looked at the labe seriously. Grapefruit. What? I fucking hate grapefruit! But this was good, and it's also a great mixer for rum in a pinch! Thank God we can get it here in Winnipeg.

The port along the Caranage, the main thoroughfare into St. George's (from Grand Anse, where we stayed.)

The first real place we went was St. George's on market day. Like I said, the Grand View Inn uses freshly caught fish on their menu, so the owner personally goes down and selects the fish every couple of days. The first picture in this blog was taken in the fish market - it really DOES say No Obscene Language, and if you do it, I think you get arrested and fined. I wasn't willing to drop too many F-bombs just so I could find out.

Tuna and red snapper, fresh in - Len bought 25 pounds of tuna, and it came in a huge block. Can't get that from a can.

The market is there virtually every day, but on Saturday, they actually close off a section of street in the old market square. On Saturday everybody's an entrepreneur. From the individual who has his/her own garden and fruit trees...

Can't get no fresher than that. And if the bananas have brown spots, fucking eat them! They're even better there... ( I know, backwards, right?)

... to large spice and produce stands, each competing for your business. The best part is, they don't give a shit if you're a tourist, you're treated like everyone else. The prices and service are the same, no matter who you are. Refreshing. Try that in Mexico.

Just outside the actual market - turn left, and it's a myriad of stands.

It's rainy season there right now - and that day it was beautiful as we arrived, and less than five minutes after I took the above photo, we were hit with a deluge. We bolted into the market, and I got my funniest moment with a Rasta. He offered to sell me a necklace, and when I said no, he, ever quick thinking took note of the cigarette in my mouth and offered to sell me some ganja. I laughed and politely declined, he wished me a nice day, and moved on. Even dealers are nice.

Grenada is the Spice Island, for good reason. Everything can grow there. Nutmeg is the principle spice, though cinnamon, cloves, cocoa, bay leaves, vanilla, saffron, and a number of others grow there. Bananas are bananas, and little bananas are called figs. When you taste one, you can actually taste some of the spices in the soil with each bite. And you can wait till they turn brown and STILL eat them - they're only sweeter. The market had tons of spices, and one of the things we bought was pepper sauce. I happened to ask for pepper for my eggs the morning before we went, and the waitress brought me pepper sauce. When in Rome, I figured. I tried it and loved it.

On the way back, we passed what was referred to as "the Pink Place." Patrick's. The restaurant I would have tried oildown in. Unfortunately, even though I took the photos, I wasn't able to get to the place when he was open.

The sign - I saw it and forced a squealing halt. Kim's sister must've hated me for that.

The actual restaurant from the outside - yeah, I know it's lavender. Almost the same thing, right?

I don't know who the guy on the porch is - could have been the elusive Patrick, but he wasn't talking. Well, he did, but it was in Patois, so it's the same thing. We'll have to wait to find out.

Next episode: How to attract monkeys and the night before the wedding. Thanks for waiting...

Sometimes the journey is - oh F**k that. The journey sucked.

2009-07-11T21:43:00.014-05:00

We've made cutbacks - and it shows.

Boy, does it.

So we were ready to make that trip to Grenada. All we had to do was get on the plane - Air Canada - from Winnipeg to Toronto. Easy enough, because at two thirty in the morning all that's in the airport here is security and that fucking annoying notice that plays in English AND French every 90 seconds. Not so bad when you're inside having a cup of Tim Horton's coffee (yeah, I name drop like hell - they should pay me,) but when you're already tired and just want to have a peaceful smoke, it's like having a nail driven into your fucking head. Repeatedly.

We load our bags and check in. Got the itineraries via E-ticketing - it works. Thank God. Processed quickly and cheerfully by the person behind the counter. Wow, we thought. This is going to be easy! Well... it was. At first.

I carried my trusty laptop with me, fully charged, ready to turn on for security at any point. My girlfriend and her daughter had purses. They flew through security, I had to dump my pockets, take out the laptop (I expected that) and stepped through. They had to wait. This would become a theme. First step - easy. We got on the plane and saw this -

Sometimes it pays to be overcharged...

- and we knew life might be good. Each seat had its own multimedia system and a lot of room. At one point I remember playing with the system - mind you, it even has XM radio, and complaining to myself that there weren't enough channels. Boy, was I fucking stupid. "Kim, think this is nice? Wait till we get on an American plane." (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA)

The plane we flew till we hit Montreal. Inside it, above.

Okay, I have to admit, I hadn't flown since May of 2001. I had no idea of what I was getting into. To Air Canada's credit, their planes were spotless and their staff very pleasant. We had to buy food, but it was Quizno's and not much more than if I'd have bought it at -well, Quizno's. AND they take cash. So going to Toronto was easy. Run for a smoke. Security again at Toronto. The girls wait. I check for the fiftieth time to make sure I didn't drop my passport. OCD is creeping in. Still no one asks me to turn on my laptop, and no one gives a shit about the digital camera I left in the case. We buy sleep pillows - get them they're worth it! Fly to Montreal. I play with the entertainment center again, find a movie, and fall asleep. Shit. But at least everything's on time.

At Montreal we dash out for another smoke and by now I'm really tired, and have REALLY had enough of hearing everything in English and French. We go through customs and find out that we have to take our bags and deposit them to be scanned and sent over to the crew at American Airlines. On our trip to Grenada, this was the last ime we saw all of them alive.

AA baggage prison. Don't worry, they only take stuff they can pawn.

The U.S. Customs guys were helpful in getting us through. Helps to travel with good looking women. Security must check my laptop here - I had to take off my belt, shoes, everything. Nope. The girls wait, I think I see eyes roll at one point. We got a drink, sat down, and prepared ourselves. I was thrilled to be on an American airline - I'd show them how it's done. Holy shit - did you ever say something you know you'd never live down?

Holy 1980's, Batman... did I bring my glasses?

737 - former cargo plane, out of production.. for a reason.

This is what greeted us when we got on American Airlines. No in seat screens - we ALL had to watch the same movie - made for 12 year olds (Hotel for Dogs) even though there were only about three kids on the whole fucking flight. And one was a baby. Then we found out - oh, no - this flight doesn't go straight to Grenada like the itinerary says - it stops in Miami. Fuck. Well, maybe they have food. Nope, same as Air Canada - except they wanted 4.00 for a fucking cookie, or bag of nuts (the same size they used to GIVE away) or trail mix or bag of chips that normally costs 89 cents. Want a sandwich? 9.00. US. And they don't take cash. Guess you don't want my money that bad... and to top it, the sandwich was half the size!

AA flight attendant doing what she does best - nothing.

And the American Airlines flight attendants, stewardesses, whatever... I prefer skybitch. Seemed more appropriate. I never saw a more surly bunch, and I've flown Southwest, United, and Luftansa. And apparently cleaning the plane between flights doesn't include bathrooms - Kim was in first, because we were in back, and well, she'd rather use it before takeoff. I knew when I saw her gagging coming out... this is not good. Thank God Miami had A. a smoking lounge, and B. a great mojito bar outside the smoking lounge. So we suffer through the flight and the dumbass movie, get to Miami (where we find out English and French is replaced by English and Spanish,) down a smoke and mojito, race back to the gate. Board the flight to Grenada - same type of plane. So much so that the movie was - you guessed it - Hotel for Dogs. Fuuuuck... why, God?

We get to Grenada and find out that American has lost my bag. This is unfortunate for two reasons - I don't know what's actually in it and I realize I have no grasp of the English/Patois way of speaking. And my claim guy stared at his computer as if he were a Mayan seeing a Bic lighter for the first time. It did get delivered the next day, though.

The return trip... we made our customs, paid to leave the country (you have to do that - like a ransom) and we put the bags on the belt. They made it to Puerto Rico. Miami. Skybitches are supposed to sell food - they sit in the back row and eat while everyone starves. We were in the back row SO WE SAW YOU!! And the SAME FUCKING BAG gets taken hostage again. And guess what? When I hit the mainland, we have to separate, because they're Canadian and I'm American. Surely I won't get randomly selected. WRONG. I was the only one. They had to put their bags through too, because we were under the same declaration. Well, what else could happen, right? We get to Toronto. Customs asks me for my PR card.
"My what?" Exact words.
Apparently, five years ago they replaced the landed immigrant form with something called a PR card. Greaaaat. Now I can't get back into Canada. But They let me back in, as long as I promised to get one. Nice people. We tell them we're missing the bag and they ask us what's in it. We had six bags. "Ummm.. the Hope diamond?" How the fuck are we supposed to know? And still - NO ONE HAS ASKED ME TO TURN ON MY LAPTOP. So it's an urban legend, I guess. Through this all - the girls had to wait. Roll their eyes and laugh because I lost weight and my pants didn't fit without a belt anymore. The bag got home two days after us... I think it escaped.

So I learned something important....

Grand Anse Bay from the balcony of the restaurant at the Grand View.

...sometimes to get to paradise, you need to go through hell. And American Airlines is the perfect airline for hell.

And next time, I'm flying Air Canada all the way.

Stupidity is like a box of chocolates. Comes in many flavors.

2009-06-21T22:29:00.014-05:00

I feel like... a star! Or 56...

(Yeah, they're tattoos. She claims she only wanted five. And that's less stupid how?)

This picture is almost the epitomy of young stupidity. This girl said she only wanted five tattoos of stars on her face. (WHY?) Then at the tattoo parlor, she fell asleep and woke up with 56. Gotta call you on this one, kid. Bullshit. I have five tattoos and I worked in a shop for awhile - learned where the most sensitive body parts for tattooing are. The face is right up there, right behind the spine and ankle. And there is NO WAY you can sleep through one tattoo, let alone 56!
She blamed the artist, though he says she repeatedly looked in the mirror and requested more. I gotta go with him on this one - common sense:1, dumbass:0

(Hey Mr. Bookman, you're right! This IS more fun than the planetarium... got a dollar?)

Okay, I'm not sure what this guy was thinking. It seems to me, that if you have a job where your vehicle is readily ummm... identifiable, ya might not want to see it photographed at a swingers' club. IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY. Common sense:2, dumbass:0... score's starting to add up...

(Mmmm-mmm. Hickory smoked flavor!)

At first I thought this was just a car fire, till I read the article that went with it. Seems the dolt who owned the flaming wreck thought it would be a good idea to PREHEAT his grill before he went to a tailgating party. What this Gump didn't realize was that fire makes hot makes more fire! Help me, Jenny! I made a fire! Common sense:2, dumbass:1 - because it was too stupid for any common sense to prevail.

(Relax, honey... we're not even gonna be here that long. What are the odds of a fire?)

This is a special kind of stupid. I see it a lot, doing what I do for a living. Well, not the breaking out the windows part. But that sure would be cool. There's a reason for no parking in front of a hydrant, but APPARENTLY this dipshit didn't get the memo. Hope he likes his new air conditioning...

(Man, I must've drank a ton... got some serious cotton mouth...)

Some people just don't know when is enough. Then it's up to the rest of us to make them look stupider than they already do. And then post it on the internet, where rogue bloggers will steal and reproduce the image. Stupid with a capital "S." Common sense:2.5, dumbass:2.5 Depends on which side of that fence you're on.

(Uhh...guys? Are you sure this condom is enough protection?)

Stupidity even extends to ads... some are worse than others (I absolutely DETEST that stupid fucking Visine ad - the woman at the office who's about to pour a vase of water into her eyes because they're dry.) For me, that ad would go more like:

ME: What are you doing?
IDIOT EMPLOYEE: It's my eyes. They're so dry.
ME: Here. Try Visine Moisture.
IDIOT EMPLOYEE: but my eyes aren't red, they're dry.
ME: HEY! Did I ask you if they were red? It says moisture, dumbfuck! Try it.
IDIOT EMPLOYEE: (tries it) Wow it really works! Thanks!
ME: Yes. Now get out. You're fired. I can't have someone so stupid they'll pour a vase of water on their face working for me.

See? Problem solved. I do think that condom ad is funny, though. Not rated - no ads require common sense.

(Sometimes they're too stupid too live... but this one did.)

This guy wanted to steal some copper, so he scurried up a pole and started to do so. Guess he forgot about those big ol' white things an' electricity and all. He was burned pretty badly, but in the end - well, he was arrested. Stupid or not, theft is a crime. Common sense - refused to participate. Dumbass won by forfeit.

In the end, the world is filled with stupidity and it comes in many flavors. Unfortunately, they're all variations of turds.

Stay Smart!

Sponsored by...

Finally. Somebody said it. I like it.

Food around the world - or sh*t I wouldn't eat.

2009-06-19T21:19:00.013-05:00

Yeah, I know what it looks like.

(but it's just a clam. An uncircumscised one.)

So, as most of you who read me regularly know, I'm headed on a trip shortly. Means I get to try new food, savor the local culture on my palate. For the most part, everything I heard about sounds wonderful, save for one dish. The Grenadians call it "oildown." The national dish, some say. A delicacy, others say. Delicacy.... isn't that another word for "tastes like shit?"

(Oildown... looks better than it sounds.)

I know it sounds like a food made in a refinery, but when I researched it, the term "oildown" means the same thing as what chefs call "reduction." No oil involved. Guess that's the difference between Culinary Institute and home-made. But... breadfruit? Has all the flavor of boiled styrofoam... I will let you know how this turns out.

Most delicacies start out as common food, something the poor managed to make edible, and when the rich found it tasted great, found a way to make tons of money off of it by saying "try it... it is our national delicacy." Always a line of dumbasses waiting for it, too....

So I thought I'd check the rest of the world. There's some really sick shit that people put in their mouths. Some I can't even mention... but I will.

(Grasshopper taco - mmm. Can I get a side of fried roaches with that?)

Grasshopper taco. Yes, I said it. Grasshopper.

Apparently the folks down Mexico way get a little tired of beef or whatever meat they put in their tacos and occasionally fill them with grasshoppers instead. A lot cheaper than beef and crunchy, too! They even eat fried grasshoppers like popcorn... ever hear of potato chips? Hell, tortilla chips?

(New - Sorpions on a Stick! Tasty and umm..poisonous.)

Fried Scorpions and other Bugs.

Not to be outdone, the peoples of Southeast Asia have found about a billion different ways to deep-fry assorted bugs. Spiders, scorpions, ants, whatever. They enjoy them as snack food... I can't imagine walking down the street popping fried ants into my mouth. Unless they have barbeque flavor.

(What's REALLY under a Scotsman's kilt...)

Haggis...would make William Wallace puke.

The name was bad enough. Sounds like a sheep's stomach filled with guts and oatmeal. Wait - it IS a sheep's stomach filled with guts and oatmeal. Oh, and spices. To be honest, there's not enough spice to mask the fact that it's just repulsive bologna. Popular in London, though... but what do they know? They boil hamburgers there.

(okay... this doesn't look like a wonton.)

Bat Soup. I really can't add anything to that.

From Paulau, we have bat soup. It's literally a bowl of soup with a bat in it. A fucking BAT! What's the matter? Run out of seagulls? (Fucking things are everywhere... even here, 1500 miles from the nearest ocean.) I was going to post a pic of the actual soup but even I have limits. Remind me not to eat in Paulau.

(Kimchi... for when you want to smell like the inside of a sweaty sneaker.)

Kimchi, a meal that's as old as it smells.

This treat is from Korea when it was still just Korea. It's basically their version of saurkraut... kind of. The difference is that instead of mixing cabbage with wine or brine storing it in barrels, they use a variety of vegetables, mix with spice and soy sauce, and bury it in clay pots (this is the old way of doing it. I'm sure they have clay factories now.) Apparently it tastes wonderful, if you can get past the smell. I was a mail clerk in the US army for awhile, and we had a single jar of this stuff break in the warhouse. The whole place smelled like pickled ass. And speaking of foul, our brethren from Greenland bring us...

(The only food you have to be drunk to eat.)

Hakarl... because that's the sound you make when you eat it.

Icelandic food at best is bad - this is from Greenland. It's basking shark, compressed under gravel for a month or so and hung up to dry. This is to get rid of the TOXICITY carried in the highly acidic creature. It has to cut into small cubes and served with a special liquor in order to keep you from puking. Like I wouldn't anyway. Couldn't they just do something like -

(triple bypass on a stick.)

- a simple fried hotdog with french fries? On a stick? It's more popular than I realized. Pretty much available the world over, though I can't guarantee the quality of the hot dogs. Almost sounds good... if you don't want to live past 45.

So I got to tell you... after my little exploration into the world of delicacies - and there are so many more I didn't mention (or couldn't and maintain an audience,) I've definitelly decided on one thing.

Maybe oildown doesn't sound so bad after all.

Sponsored by...

The new McFatboy - 3 one pound patties, special sauce, bacon, ham, and cheese on butter toasted sourdough bread. Comes with a grocery bag of fries and keg o'Coke (or Coke Zero - hahahaha - Coke Zero? Why?) All for 5.99 - for when you feel like carrying half your body in a separate vehicle.

(Offer void where prohibited or common sense prevails. Don't look for non-participating restaurants - they'll ALL do anything to get your ass in there.)

What blows and gets men highly excited? A ref's whistle.

2009-06-17T20:31:00.011-05:00

The Greatest Receiver in CFL History.

Had to give Milt Stegall his props to begin with. The man played for awhile in the NFL, then ended up in the Canadian Football League. At age 38 (old for a receiver) he retired. Broke every record in the league for receiving. And he was ours - so fuck you, rest of Canada! HAHAHAHAHA - oh, excuse me.

Now you're asking me - Ed? Why are you talking about football? Isn't it over? Isn't hockey over? Isn't basketball - well, except for the remaining rioting - over? You mean I have to buy more batteries?

(Doug Brown - eats offensive linemen. Literally. Takes three men to hold him at bay, but's he's a nice guy.)

Well, it's like this. In the States, you're getting a little breather - NFL preseason is still a ways away. Hockey - fuck, there's so many teams it seems to start over about a week after it ends. Kind of like American Idol. Soccer (football to anyone ANYWHERE else in the world) is... umm... is it on now? Baseball - who gives a fuck, really. And it seems like they're adding a new sport every day. Most of them are too boring or stupid to mention. But in Canada - the CFL begins today! In fact, I'm listening to the first game as I type this. My team, the Winnipeg Blue Bombers, (could ya tell?) is winning, but they're slowly fucking it up. Typical.

(See? I told you - he wears a thong!)

Soccer, football, whatever.

I don't get it, really. I played it in school and hated it. Tried to watch it on TV (on special sports networks) but it's kind of mind numbing. Kick, dribble, pass, other guy gets it, blah blah blah. And any time players touch they act as though they've been whacked with a tire iron. Less ham in a delicatessen. At the end, they only score a total of about four points. But hey, they always have real cool riots at the end...

(BALL ONE! I think he only has one left.)

Baseball, or steroids at the bat.

This is one of the oldest homegrown sports in North America. Well, I don't know if you call it a sport when no one sweats. I tried watching it on TV - but I almost passed out from boredom. It is better when you actually go to a game though, because you get to see some fan get smacked by an errant foul ball once in awhile. And for some reason, some of the players felt they needed to use steroids. For WHAT? So you can spit further? Just another example of stupidity in sports. But at least they don't riot - hard to do when you're asleep.

(Two points and a teabag! Hoowah!)

Basketball, or the big sweaty hug. With a ball. What did you think I meant?

Okay, I know as much about basketball as the next guy. Provided the next guy is about six years old. Kidding. Eight. I mean I've played it, know the rules, and found that I truly suck at it. Doesn't do much for the love of the game. It's fast moving on TV - bonus - and they have cheerleaders - double bonus (no pun intended.) But the game is almost too easy for the pros... scores that end up over 100? Each? The only challenge for these guys is to see who can fit the most diamonds in their "grille." And they have some pretty good riots too... right Los Angeles? (Like LA needs another reason to riot. Their newspapers have "looting sales" flyers in them on Saturdays.)

(Dude... figure skating's in the next rink!)

Hockey, or goons on ice.

I know I should like this sport more because I live in Canada, but that's like saying I should love tofu because no animals are used in its production. Simple fact is, I've tried both and at least hockey doesn't leave a turdlike aftertaste in my mouth. Doesn't make me a fan, though. I'll give these guys credit - they are a tough bunch (Well, the Canadians and Americans are - the Europeans are fragile ummm... what's the word... pussies.) Anyone who willingly takes a frozen rubber disc to the face at over 100 mph, gets stitched up after he picks up his teeth and gets back in the game is tough. Or drunk. It is a Canadian sport, after all.

(And the balls go through the uprights! Wait - BALLS?)

Football, the real kind.

Yeah, I know that makes me sooo American/Canadian. So what. Fuck'em if they don't like it. This game is a variant of the classic rugby - we Americans are forever stealing other countries' sports and changing them or saying we made them up. Baseball (cricket, England,) soccer (football - we just changed the name - the rest of the world,) Basketball (Canada, believe it or not,) hockey (Canada, because they needed the money,) and football (rugby, but without all the ball grabbing, England - they didn't even know it at first. The helmets fooled them.)

Of all the sports on TV, we know this has the biggest following all across the North American continent. The Americans have the NFL and a myriad of other smaller leagues, and Canada has the CFL. The Americans have the Superbowl, we have the Grey Cup - which, if you don't know the history, sounds bland. Grey. Why couldn't this guy be named Fukincewl? Think about it. The Fukincewl Cup. The only sports trophy that would get bleeped on primetime. The only sport I truly love on BOTH sides of the border.

It's violent, fast, and has spectacular moments every time I watch it. To give the Canadians credit, their game is more exciting. You only have three downs and a 110 yard field. Way more air action. The down side is that there are only 8-9 teams, depending on the year. What do you expect? Hard to fill a stadium in a city with about 10,000 people in it. (Right, maritimes?) We do have cheerleaders too, though. No one pays attention to them, is all.

So, for all you spouses (and believe me, it DOES work the other way around,) especially in Canada, I'm sorry. We know there's tons of stuff to do and you want to go to the market garden and shop for linens, but the game's coming on. And yeah, get batteries. Lots of them.

But at least there's no riots.

(BTW - Winnipeg won! Woo-Hoo!)

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(This is a REAL ad... too stupid to make up.)

Relationship Tips... (Don't Try This at Home.)

2009-06-14T21:20:00.013-05:00

And as they dined and she talked...

(... all he could think was - SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!)

I was thinking about it - a friend pointed out that sometimes that we, as men and women, don't often communicate well. To that I answered, "What?"

Now, I'm not talking about men talking to men and women talking to women. We all know that:

Women talk about their kids, relationships, troubles, funny moments, feelings, and all that other shit you see on The View. They bond with one another and form everlasting friendships that makes their world a little better.

Men tell jokes and talk about girls they (never) fucked and sports. Oh, and their balls.

The problem comes when XX meets XY. Men and women don't communicate well, and definitely not at the same speed. Women - if you're explaining something, and he doesn't appear to comprehend you, look into his eyes. Chances are you'll see that little hourglass icon in the pupils as his brain catches up to what you're saying. Men - if you see her looking at you the same way - she just doen't care about your Fantasy Football team. Come on, I'm a guy and even I don't give a shit about Fantasy Football. It's Dungeons and Dragons for ex-jocks who made fun of well, people who played Dungeons and Dragons.

Now I'm probably gonna get the "Men Mafia" sicced on me, but what the hell. They can't even afford shirts. How tough can they be?

(We're gonna bust you up, fucker. That takes balls. BIG balls, like we got, right Vinnie?)

Men sometimes just don't get it. We know that there's something we need to do (listen) and not do (fix) in order to make our communications with women better, but it's a mystery to us. (See how I stuck that in there? The Men Mafia don't read inside parentheses. Girl stuff.) It also helps not to call our mate bitch. Adds to the love. And when comes to sports and video games -

(He can WATCH the end zone or be IN the end zone - umm, dumbass?)

(the only way this guy's getting laid is if it comes out on Wii...)

Take a little time out. Not all women are sports fans - some just go with it rather than invest in battery powered boyfriends. Look at her once in awhile - is she rolling her eyes when she thinks you're not looking? (Yes, we see that. Peripheral vision. Amazing thing.) Odds are she's just waiting for the final whistle to blow. Better odds - that'll be the only thing. Space out the video games and sports. Try to listen... you would be surprised! Maybe that flannel nightgown will take a vacation for a night or two!

(This is in no way a promise that you will receive sex. Individual results may vary. Void where prohibited. Side effects may include: apathy, curiosity, or her treating you like her "gay" friend.)

Women - try and understand - men are like ADD kids after twelve espressos. We like to joke and shiny things amaze us. Long heartfelt conversations should be able to fit into a text message or tweet (another plug for Twitter! Five dollars!) Kidding, of course. But try to sell your point directly. Then maybe we'll stop hiding behind sports and video games.

(You gotta admit -my fart smells better than you turkey looks HAHAHA - SLAP!)

We have different senses of humor, too. Women appreciat clever well written or thought out jokes, with a beginning, middle, and end. Men think farts are funny. So maybe we can come to a compromise - a well told joke about farts.

See? That's what makes me a master of communication...

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Love is on the air...sort of. Well, sex, anyway...

2009-06-13T18:30:00.014-05:00

Honey, it's just like Titan - ow fuck! Ow!

Romance. Love, lust, all the cool stuff, packed into 44 minutes and served weekly for our consumption. Okay, mostly the lust. Oh - and the stupidity. I was trying to avoid more than one TV related blog this week, but well... where stupidity finds me, I feel compelled to share it. And make fun of it.

(IIII...love New Ho'k....everybody sing!)

I Love New York

Okay, so this is what started the ball rolling. I knew there were bad and really stupid relationship shows. To give New York credit, she IS equal opportunity, though the episode my girlfriend and I saw the guy she pet named "White Boy" get eliminated.

(White Boy - tossed like the #10 finalist on American Idol. I think it had more to do with him looking like a meth head, though.)

White Boy? Did he really think he had a chance with a nickname like that? We watched, stunned, as this show played to the low end of stereotype. The set looks like a pimp's nightmare. The winner gets a bling chain. At least she doesn't pretend not to fuck at least one of them. We're an interracial couple, and got to tell you, we were each sooo proud of our race after that. But hey, it's VH1 - not like anyone watches it intentionally (I actually thought it had something to do with the CITY. Silly me.) Apparently VH1 has the market on this dumb shit though, as I found out while pulling images. See, New York came from a show - let's just say they like to use has been musicians. Remember Flava Flav?

(Who would want to fuck someone who looks like a crack addicted clown? Oh. Okay.)

The Flavor of Love

Another VH1 gem. Take the front man from a 80's rap group and see how many women will hook up with him... well, New York did it at least twice. When you look like him, it ain't about the love. It's about the money. You're not a "Public Enemy" anymore, man.. more like a public nuisance. I'm just amazed that you can attract good looking women anymore. It's like watching a car accident. Well Flav, I know what the clock means, and I know what time it is. Time to change the channel...

(The girls from the Rock of Love Bus... where everybody gets a ride.)

Rock of Love Bus

The final VH1 turd that I'm gonna mention (hey, I didn't make these shows up, they did. I just make fun of them.) This was a show that was so bad it had to hit the road. Bret Micheals (Poison) decided he wanted to see how many fake blondes ACTUALLY exist in L.A. and couldn't pass the porn auditions. I couldn't make it past a segment or two at a time. Really? Ladies... couldn't you come together and find a REAL celebrity to take turns on?

Don't get me wrong. The network brainiacs picked up on this and tried it, but with real budgets. Doesn't make it any less trashy. ABC holds the reigns with two variants of the same theme. The bachelor. Why, they were so brilliant, they even came up with an original catchy name for it.

(Single mom episode - for a bachelor? Seriously?)

The Bachelor/Bachelorette

This one has been on awhile, but I think they're running low on premise. Apparently they're going from singles to single parents. Admirable? Or an opportunity to watch him squirm when a baby pukes on his Armani suit? The sad thing is that in this case the single moms are up against childless women. Not really fair. Next season they're going to use cougars, or so I hear.

And from the new shitheap - the CW, is probably the dumbest of the hookup shows.

(...and I take you, uhhh... what's your name again?)

Hitched or Unhitched

Yeah. A couple gets something like 48 hours to get married or not - watch the drama unfold! Sorry, no. As you can tell, I'm not even sure about the time frame. That's how little I give a fuck.

But what about relationships gone awry, Ed? You ask. Oh, they got something for that, too. I've only seen a couple of episodes, mostly because it's fun to watch people to get caught cheating on camera. Yes, if you haven't seen it, there IS such a show. What's it called? Ummmm... Cheaters. Pretty insightful, huh? I probably would watch it more if the host wasn't some self righteous prick.

(Wait, ladies... that's not what I meant when I said the drinks are on me!)

Everything I read about this show says it's the worst of all reality shows. Yet it's been on for nine seasons. I saw one guy punch the girl HE was cheating on in the face. Pretty sure that was the deal breaker for her. So... I guess I'm not the only one who is watching, huh?

Ah, love... it's really a wonderful thing.

As long as you don't cram it into 44 minutes.

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Gay or Straight - a Traveller's Guide.

2009-06-12T19:49:00.018-05:00

Oklahoma State Gay Prison, manned by the Young Republican Guard.

(Okay, so it's not true. The one on the left is a Communist.)

If you're a regular reader, you already know that I'm American and live in Canada. I mention that because of the differences in the two places - and no, I don't mean the weather. We know it's fucking cold. But only most of the time. The rest of the time we have mosquitoes.

In some ways - depends on WHO you are - Canada is really progressive. No one knows this more than the members of the gay community. Now hold on - I'm not gonna bash gays, I don't do that. Besides, I have a couple of lesbian friends who would send me for a six month stint in the "re-education" camp if I did. I don't think it actually exists, but they're pretty convincing.

At the camp...

(Man, these accommodations suck... but at least the food is good.)

See, here gays can marry. My friends are married, and they bitch about each other. So what's the big deal? Personally, I think they should have the right to marry. I did it twice. If you want to spend years drifting apart, fighting, and ultimately lose half your shit, by all means. Have at. You will not see me stand in your way. Just remember... you may end up losing the title "gay"... there's a reason that word became associated with homosexuals... they usually seemed happier than the rest of us poor straight fuckers. More free to pursue their dreams (art, dance, whatever) with - I don't know, a support network. I paint, draw, and write, but being straight... well, it never helped. So the term gay is appropriate. Something some straight people envy, I think. Marry and you might lose it. And half your shit.

Then I guess the term would have to go to virgins. If you can find one.

In the states, you have to fight state by state just to be recognized. I see a lot about California - will they make up their mind already? How can a state with San Fransisco in it NOT recognize gay right to marry? Think of the business upside alone! Think of the reality TV! Instead of Bridezilla, we could have Bride vs. Bride! This weeks episode - the battle over the garter and corsage... who will win the challenge to throw what?

(Yes, I know. Something you don't see every day. Nice bridesmaids dresses.)

Or the grooms? We could have the Groom Fashionista Death Match - instead of bloody extreme fighting, extreme runway walks and metro makeovers. (Yeah, I know - stereotype - but fuck it. We do it to the straight morons on these kind of shows all the time. You think it's a coincidence that America's white trash all seem to end up on Jerry, Maury, and COPS?)

(Here comes the... oh, shit! We don't have a song!)

So you're probably thinking - yeah, Ed. What's your fucking point? Well... I was wondering the same thing. Oh, right. This may be unfair, and it's definitely inconvenient, but it could be worse.

(Grenada - where no one is gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that.)

There are 85 countries where homosexuality is illegal. But cheer up, lesbians - out of those, 40 think girl/girl love is not only okay, it's perfectly legal. Some, like Grenada, simply adopt the U.S. military method of thinking - don't ask, don't tell. I picked Grenada because I was amused to find this fact out - I'm going there soon, and despite the antiquated law, no one cares. One of the popular restaurants - Patrick's, where everything - I mean EVERYTHING is pink except the food, is run by - well, a man's man. A flaming man's man. Let's just say that. I didn't make this up - look it up. And Grenada is one of the 40. Sorry guys!

http://www.grenadagrandview.com/

(Poolside at the hotel I'll be at. Paradise no matter what. Umm...no, it's not product placement. Who said that?)

The hotel we're staying at doesn't care either... it's one of those annoying laws, like don't urinate on the beach. No one pays attention to it.

(One is Carnival, the other is Gay Pride. Ummm... the difference is?)

So you see, some of this is serious, some not. There are seven countries where being gay is a death sentence. Literally. That's outside of the 85. Tolerance leads to acceptance, I know. Hopefully we'll end up in the ideal utopia, where everyone is able to love who they want, regardless of preference, and not have to worry about the ramifications of it.

Then they can get married and fuck it up.

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Do they at least KISS you before they F**K you?

2009-06-10T22:13:00.018-05:00

The Canadian 20.00 bill. Well, sorta.

(didn't notice the slight image change when I uploaded it - can you?)

Unemployment sucks. So does the government.

(At least HE gets residuals...)

Seems to me that if you work for a company for 15 years and get laid off, you should be able to rely on the government - who you PAID - to give you some of the money back that you GAVE them. Well, gave may be too soft a word. Had extorted from you is more adequate.

A friend had that happen to her. She is married and has two kids at home. Laid off on May 1st, she decided to make the transition to get her EI (Employment Insurance - the PC term for UN-employment... sounds less painful. Like calling death a life status change. Fucking stupid.) She applied online - the fastest way, huh? BZZZZZZ!! No, Alex. The answer is - it doesn't matter. She still hasn't received anything. When she called EI, they said they haven't even processed it yet. WHAT? Are you fucking kidding? For my American brethren, Canada has turned government jobs - aka - beauracracy, into an industry. But the shitty customer service is the same as it is there.

(Yeah..I could give ya a loan. No job? No problem. Fuhgeddaboudit.)

She asked when she could expect something and was told late June. "What am I supposed to do to pay bills?" You could extend you line of credit or get a loan, they said. Seriously. They ACTUALLY suggested that. With no job. Riiiight...

How's she supposed to help feed her family? Well, there's this:

(Our soup of the day is desperation noodle...)

Or this:

(Actual Mission in Winnipeg - just to demonstrate a point. They do good work.)

Or she could have applied for welfare, in which case she'd already be receiving a check. Oh, wait... she's married. She can't do that. So I guess the Good Hands people of the "Canadian Employment Insurance Company" feel fine just giving her the finger... who cares, right? They got jobs. Well, if all else I guess there's always a market for...

(I'm working on my tax free retirement plan...)

Really inspires faith in government. Speaking of entrepeneurs, Minneapolis lost another one today.

Tiger St. Claire Caged

(Looks more like a cougar to me...)

Nora Lee Anderson (any relation to Pam? Nah - Pam just looks like one) was arrested for operating an online prostitution ring. Apparently potential clients had to fill out questionnaires to ensure that they weren't police officers. Yeah, that worked. (Nora... it's the internet. Liars Paradise.) She called her operation FastPass - like the little credit card. Shit. I can only buy gas with mine...

The police closed the website and seized the client list. Among them - one of the areas' most prominent businessmen, to whom the working girls referred to as the "cheapest bastard alive."

This comes on the heels of another sting run by a local prosecutor, called "The Nice Guys." I get a warm and fuzzy knowing the government is out there looking out for me... when they're not trying to get laid. Or fucking the people that got them jobs in the first place.

I also wanted to share a Clinton vacation photo... seems Bill REALLY likes sailing...

(Aarr.. hang her from me mizzen mast... aaarrr)

And since we're on crime, I got a mug or two.

(I fucking TOLD you I don't like my photo taken!)

How about this guy?

(No, really. I'm Adam Lambert. I swear-sing? Umm. Fuck. You got me.)

And Andy Dick gives us his best Rodert Deniro impression...

(Y'all come down to Cape Fear sometime, hear?)

But when it's all said and done, life is good.

As long as I don't lose my job.

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A Narcissist's View of the Internet...and Brett Micheals.

2009-06-09T20:03:00.014-05:00

Me, in 1969.

(I'm on the right. Must have been thinking... what the hell do I write next? And... I got to poop.)

See? Even I'm not safe from myself. Okay, so I get home from work today and I'm wondering... what the hell do I write about? My hopes and dreams? What, am I a girl? Please... you see what I look like. I am capable of smiling, but usually at someone else's expense. Usually. So that's a big fat no. So out of curiosity, I perused some other blogs...

I found a few that I really liked. Became a follower instantly. But for the most part it was like this:

( A kid after my own heart... awwww... must be Gordon Ramsey's son.)

1. Baby's room, ready to go! - Great. Another booger machine who will end up with the name of the day, usually something that gets them lifelong beatings or time on the brass pole. Don't care. Next.

(The only thing you get when you do E-business.)

2. How to make money on the internet.... my mind turned to white noise at this point. I get enough of that useless pyramid shit everywhere else. Think I'm going to take the time to read it here? On purpose? Next.

(He doesn't know I farted... wait... wait... any second now...)

3. Something with compelling images. And words written in something akin to hieroglyphics. Need a translator. Next.

(I told the wife to go with the one piece, but noooo...)

4. The family/couple trip. Glad you had a good time. I know I did, because I wasn't there with YOU! Shame no one except other mountain biking ice fishermen will give a shit. Next.

(Oh God, please kill me so I don't have to be paparrazi'd on this FUCKING blog anymore...)

5. Cutsie pet pages... the ones that document in infinite detail the pet's daily life and adventures. Oh boy, I can not WAIT to read about Ms. Persian Princess' game of chase the dust bunny and how cute she is when she covers a turd in her litter box... just give me a pair of pencils to stick in my eyes.

That's a rough shot - don't get me wrong. I'm sure there are people who think I suck, too.

Somewhere.

And in Entertainment News...

No girls, really. It's shrinkage... like when you come out a pool. Seriously. I'm a monster.

Brett Micheals of the former hair band Poison (he wore more makeup than some of the girls he uh... courts... yeah, courts... on his show - and was prettier) injured himself at the end of a performance on the Tony awards last night. Apparently he got smacked by a piece of the set during his exit. Guess he was looking over his shouulder for one of the girls he used and tossed, huh?

My hero. Not.

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Being an asshole... priceless.

F**ked up News Network

2009-06-08T23:33:00.011-05:00

Come on... I thought they were smarter than that...

(Oh, sure, they WANT you to believe they're all knowing and smart...)

Apparently this actually happened in Minnesota, and I saw it on the news. It's a big business in Jamaica. Yeah - that's right. Jamaica. The country that gave us reggae and a funny bobsled team.

Seems they got the idea to use online and phone scams to trick the elderly into handing over huge sums of money. According to the "victims," they were threatened with attacks on their families if they balked. REALLY? I could almost believe it if :

A. I hadn't actually listened to what a "victim" claimed was a threat (he said - I hope you sleep WELL tonight - eeek! Scary!)
B. They weren't calling from JAMAICA! Even old people have caller ID!

(Seriously... does he LOOK like he's gonna come kill your family? Smoke your weed, maybe...)

Personally, I think that they are... oh, what's the word... right. Greedy. It happens all the time. People think they're going to hit that lottery somehow, and they'll pay to do it. That's how you become a SUCKER. The whole "they're gonna kill us" thing is their way of making us shake our head in pity instead of laughing at them. Our elders. They want you to believe they're the epitomy of wisdom, then they claim they're victims because they're hapless and old. Make up your mind already. Either you're greedy or a dumb-ass. George Carlin was right.

Speaking of weed...

(Every generation needs their own Beavis and Butthead.)

I have a few of those... I'm gonna continue on with dumb crimes and stick them between. The web is visual, after all...

HEADLINE: SYRACUSE, NY

A guy got arrested when he tried to buy a bag of crack with 50.00 and a slaughtered pig. The dealer was also arrested and stated that he wanted the pig for the celebration of a relative who had just been released from prison. During the arrest, someone stole the pig.

So it seems that if you want free pork chops in Syracuse, wait till the cops bust a crack dealer.

(I got a clean shot! Oh wait - FUUUUUCK!!)

HEADLINE: LOUISVILLE, KY

Apparently a pastor at church has decided to mix three of his favorite things together: God, 4th of July, and guns. Yep. Guns. He's having a "bring your guns to church day" to help commemorate the 4th of July. They can't be loaded (wouldn't want no shootin's) - I guess it's check your clips at the door. Kentucky does have a law that allows citizens to carry handguns, with some restrictions. No silencers. Wait - isn't this the same place that had the Hatfields and McCoys a feudin' about a century ago? Sheeeit. Get yer rifle, maw, we'se a goin' ta church! Hyuk hyuk hyuk!

Only in America...

(My short life as a styrofoam head...)

HEADLINE: MANSFIELD, MA.

A medical device manufacturer went bankrupt earlier this year. Listed in its assets were nine corpses, including eight "previously used" ones. I'm thinking they were ALL previously used, otherwised they wouldn't be corpses...but that's me. Apparently the bodies are stored frozen in a site away from the company headquarters.

Well, that's good. Hate to see THAT product spoilage.

(I'm sorry, I don't care who you are. THAT'S funny.)

HEADLINE: SPRINGFIELD, MA

Seems like a lot of dumb shit happens in Massachusetts. In this case, a mother was sitting on a fence while trying to teach her 17 year old daughter to drive. (On the fence?) The girl hit the gas and whump! broke Mommy's legs. Daddy got the ticket for allowing an unlicensed driver to operate a vehicle because he was the registered owner of the vehicle. Ummm... guess what happened to the daughter? NOTHING!

Well, maybe she got a time-out....

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When Celebrities Attack!

2009-06-06T19:56:00.018-05:00

Andy Dick Shows Us How He Deals With Kathy Griffin.

(or is this the only way SHE can put up with a loud, effeminate, has-been drunk? )

Well, the weather here in good ol' Winnipeg has gone stranger than ever, which makes me believe one thing. The folks who cry about global warming have never been here. Rain. Cold. Warm. More fucking rain. Cold again. Glad I'm not a farmer... I'd probably kill myself.

Needless to say, it doesn't allow for much in the way of outdoor activities. Some of my favorite indoor activities can only be done during certain hours... so... all that remains is writing and TV. Twitter doesn't get a plug this - oh, shit. They just did, didn't they?

Part of TV is the celebrities. I'm sure they want you to see them in their best light, as that's the idea behind any TRUE Narcissist's game plan. Pay attention to me! Pay attention to me! Okay, but I don't want no preplanned preposed bullshit. I want to see your spoiled ass losing your fucking mind because the caterer couldn't find a vendor that would provide you with Belgian chocolate M&M's (don't look, they don't make them) and smacking the director with a bottle of Volvic. THAT's entertainment.

It's not like there haven't been meltdowns, either. Some are hilarious, some tragic. Some a little of both. Hollywood has DEFINITELY had its share. Back in the day - I mean from the inception of Hollywood to about the early 60's... Hollywood had an image to uphold. Public meltdowns were a no-no. So... back then, meltdowns tended to be more on the tragic side.

(Lupe Velez - the Mexican Spitfire)

Take this lady, Lupe Velez. Her nickname was the "Mexican Spitfire." A beautiful woman, but with her accent and time against her, she knew her options were running out. She was outrageous and most of the public loved her, though her personal life was a mess. Then she got pregnant. BIG no-no in 1940's Hollywood. Some people have no clue as to who she was, but she made over 40 films and was married to Johnny Weismuller (Tarzan) for five years. She committed suicide in 1944 - the way meltdowns used to happen. But she did it with class... flowers, candles, and sleeping pills. I'm not poking fun at it - but I am illustrating something. It took a LOT for this woman to melt down. Not today. Usually it's the end result of too much attention, money, and more than enough drugs. Got to be tough, I tell ya.

(Susan Boyle and the Spam lady from Monty Python - one's an institution, and the other's been to one.)

These days, what do we have... Susan Boyle. Nice voice, but seriously, no one really listens to that music who doesn't subscribe to PBS. Niche career at best. I really hope someone finds a place for her... but if you're gonna be a celeb, you gotta toughen up. Kind of like I'm going to have to for poking fun at Susan Boyle. She's not going to make it at the rate she's going... the press is already losing interest. Remember Charlotte Church? I didn't think so.

(Charlotte Church - the first Briton the world forgot.)

But we have our own "fun" celebs... say... oh, I don't know. How about Dennis Rodman? A basketball player... then he went Hollywood. Now look at him.

(umm... I, uhh... yeah. Fuck. Wow.)

I think this is what happens when you fuck Madonna. In fact, I think Madonna is the catalyst for some celeb meltdowns... remember Britney? I mean, she wasn't fooling anyone with her bullshit coy innocence act, but this seemed to be the beginning of her landslide into stupidity.

(not that there's anything wrong with it...)

(Britney doing her best Charles Manson impression.)

Okay, well... deeper into stupidity. The only women who passed her were the Simpson sisters, with the Olsen anorexics on their tails. And who can forget the KING?

That's right... Micheal Jackson. Once an icon of pop music, he decided to have a lifelong meltdown. As you can see, here he is in his early days...

(oh yeah, I recognize him...)

And somewhere along the line, he decided he ran out of shit to buy. Guess he didn't like fixing up cars, so...

(Mr. Potato-Head Micheal)

... he went with plastic surgery instead. He just forgot - that unlike a car, you can't buy real spare parts if you fuck them up. And sometimes the more you play with something the worse it gets. Which is probably why he looks like a retarded wood elf.

I guess it could be worse... he COULD look like Diana Ross. Oh, wait...

He does.

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Summer "Surreality" TV and other "entertainment."

2009-06-03T23:30:00.014-05:00

This just in...

President Barack Obama has joined the summer lineup with his own game show, Wheel of Taxes! Like your gas, your liquor, your cigarettes? Maybe healthcare benefits? What gets taxed next? Spin the wheel to find out! New on the WB weeknights!

So the regular TV season is over. What do I do now? Something productive? Fuck that. Productive has the word "produce" in it. Too labor intensive. I don't want much more than a coffee and a cigarette. Anything beyond that qualifies as exercise (well, except for one thing.... heh heh heh...)

That leaves writing and TV. Oh, and Twitter. (Another plug for them - woo-hoo!) Unfortunately, all of the shows that have anything resembling quality are either in reruns or have disappeared into the annals of TV history. What's that give us?

A. Reality TV and HIP new shows... or
B. Polished turds.

If you answered either A or B you'd be correct, because they're both the same thing. Don't believe me? Well, let's walk into the Dante's Inferno of summer TV, shall we?

(Left - Lou,Stephen and a bunch of guys in blue tee shirts...... But who the fuck are these women?)

I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here.

Okay, I don't know about you, but I'm surprised this sad pile of shit is still on (yeah, I know it's the first week, but still... ) It should be called "Aside from Lou Diamond and Stephen, we don't know who the fuck you are." I mean, I know Sanjai (is that how you spell it?) but if you didn't watch that season of American Idol, you wouldn't. And there's these two dipshits who have declared themselves "super celebrities" and seem to be bouncing back and forth from Costa Rica.

(You can be anything if you're dumb and blonde enough...)

Want to make this show interesting? Kind of get it away from the bug eating - Fear Factor/Survivor thing? Let Spence (what a pussy!) and Heidi back on the show. While they are on the flight back, call Costa Rica Customs and tell them that you suspect that they are smuggling drugs back and forth from the States, which is why they keep on quitting the show. Put a live crew on when they land, and broadcast while they get their respective body cavity searches. NOW they're super celebrities. Then you can have a special challenge where the audience can guess who the fuck the REST OF THESE CELEBRITIES ARE!

So You Think You Can Dance

Overall, I actually like this show somewhat. The auditions are better, because the only thing funnier than a tone deaf "singer" is an uncoordinated spaz dancer. Believe it or not, AI and SYTYCD actually had the same umm... guy? audition AND get tossed from both sets. Kind of tells you the level of delusion, huh? Reminded me of Mick Jagger with Collagen injected in his lips. Get the picture?

("SEX" and his number one groupie. MOM.)

Now on this show I mentioned that guy David, who calls himself SEX. I think he named himself after something he's never tried... he's auditioned five times, each more spastically than the last. His mom is always there. telling the world how good AND sexy he is... creepy. He got beat out in a challenge of sucky dancers. Then they decided to put him into choreography just to show him what real dancers go through. If this were a horse race, he would have been the one they put down. I think he's gonna try again next year though.

Someone got the bright idea to show us the home life of MC Hammer. Hmmm. The daily life of a has been music star and his family. Where have I heard that before? Oh, right. Gene Simmons. C'mon A&E.... couldn't you just try? Just a little?

(Yeah, he wants to be there. Probably wondering what the girls at Hooters are doing.)

Jon and Kate Plus Eight

Finally, the crap that everyone is finally getting tired of... Jon and Kate. I suppose it started as a counter to Octomom, but really... is that all it takes to be famous these days? Have kids? Are we THAT out of ideas? And just how long do they think we can put up with an extra hour of someone else's kids? If I want that shit, I'll go to Chucky Cheese. It's really about Kate anyway. She knows what a lottery looks like when she sees one.

(Octomom and who she thinks she looks like. Ummm...no. Jeanine Garafolo, maybe. Or Ugly Betty without glasses.)

I kind of feel bad for Jon, but I really feel bad for the kids. They're like guest stars on the Love Boat. Mommy has gone a little Joan Crawford on their asses, but she doesn't realize - Joan only had to deal with one book about her. Kate gets eight.

Karma's a motherfucker, ain't it?

Sponsored by...

The new Whitney Houston album, "Used Up"
on sale at street corners and crack houses everywhere!

Good thing the world's not this f**ked up... or is it?

2009-06-01T18:19:00.015-05:00

North Korean Stealth Missiles Fail.

As you can see, the North Koreans, realizing that they may not be able to deliver large nuclear payloads over entire oceans, have instead opted to use locally delivered stealth rockets. Homeland Security has obtained video of a North Korean agent, code named Andrew, attempting to launch an ASSFire (American Seeking Stealth) missile, with the same unfortunate results as they had with their ICBM missile. The idea behind this - to destroy America and its allies with rectally delivered nuclear warheads - met with embarrassing results. Homeland Security promptly arrested the offenders and sent them off to eternal torture by pointing fingers and laughing.

(Eraserhead Jong-il)

North Korea's umm... leader, Kim Jong-il, known to the UN as Eraserhead, has denied these reports, stating that they would only have sent them to play revolutionary songs via XM satellite. Cardboard shipments to North korea have been suspended to prevent further manufacture of these weapons of ass destruction.

Get it, North Korea? Knock it off, already! Even the Chinese won't help you now! They know when they have a good thing going - going against the Americas would mean no more Olympics or Dollar Stores to sell their crap! Some people...

IN OTHER NEWS...

The company formerly known as General Motors filed for bankruptcy protection today, affecting plants in the US and Canada. Both governments are bailing the company out with taxpayer cash, because we all know we have so much. It should be up and running again within three months, with approximately 45 Billion dollars from the two countries. GM has a plan, though... they're gonna invest in oil companies, so they can still continue to build big ass trucks and cars no one wants. In a further development, GM has announced that they are changing their name but keeping their logo. They will now be known as Government Made.

Nothing like seeing your tax dollars at work, huh? Where's Sean-fuck-Penn with his money roll when you need him? Oh, right. Smoking cigarettes with the Taliban.

AND NOW, COURTESY OF ZACHARY QUINTO...

(It IS his photo, after all...)

President Barack Obama (pictured left,) in his never ending quest to appeal to ALL of America, paid a visit to the Village of the Damned today. He managed to escape unscathed, but seven Secret Service agents were devoured in the crush. They love you Mr. President, but most of all, they love your braaaaiiins....

That last one sold itself. To be honest, it's hard to come up with a good joke about the President. Well, he hasn't fucked up enough... so let's see how he reacts to the ASSFire missiles, shall we?

And that's the news. Goodnight.

Tattoos and Piercings and Mods, oh my!!

2009-05-31T16:47:00.011-05:00

(Yes, I used Angelina for this. Why the hell not?)

First, let me start off by saying I have nothing against tattoos or piercings. I have five tattoos and a pierced ear. Kind of traditional, though. I got mine in the 80's, back when they were pretty much still the domain of bikers, the military, and convicts. I even worked in a Louisiana tattoo shop designing custom flashes (designs) freehand. Yep, there's people with my artwork running around. One is this girl we called Rat - she had a thing for rats. I made up one of a rat clawing into her... wonder how THAT'S looking twenty five years later.

(Cool tattoo. Big, but cool. Just sucks that he'll never see it.)

Tattoos. Years ago, they were just individual designs scattered about the body so that if you had enough of them, you looked a little like a graffiti'd wall in some slum somewhere. My father had 22. My son is new generation - he has three that I know of, but in traditional places. Very nice ones, too. The artwork is totally different - no pictures you can get from a gumball machine anymore.

Traditional places, you ask? They were places that could be covered if needed. No hand or face tattoos - nothing says blowing that accounting interview like a Gothic Fuck You tattoo on your neck. Or worse - the teardrop.
INTERVIEWER: Umm.. says you have a degree in accounting - sorry, I'm distracted.
TAT GUY: By what?
INTERVIEWER: Your tattoo. The teardrop. What's that about?
TAT GUY: Oh that. That's nothing. I killed a guy in prison while I was getting my degree.
INTERVIEWER: (shifting uncomfortably) Uh... huh. Okay... well, we DO have an opening in our janitorial staff...

So much for the prison education system. And on women - I have nothing against tattoos. Love them. But think before you put one on - these are for life. Men (yes, not fair, I know) can get away with more body "shift" when it comes to tats. Most are on our arms, backs, or chests. Gravity doesn't affect us much there. So when you get that butterfly on your breast - take care of yourself! Otherwise you'll end up with a gay dragon.

(Tramp Stamp beautifully done.)

And if you go for the infamous "tramp stamp" (we love them) stick with something tasteful. They're meant to be sexy. For the most part, they are. But some... are just scary. Like the one below...

(Oral fixation, have we?)

I thought it was just and oversized butterfly at first. Turns out it's a slutty Rorschach test. Tells me that it's not a tattoo - it's a bull's-eye. Anyone who goes within five feet of it is going to need penicillin. Just as bad -

(got a nickel?)

Almost makes me want to shave mine off. But enough about that. Let's find the truly - shall we say - unusual individuals? The ones who can't find a job where they're exposed to daylight. Like say you had a blind date and this greeted you at the door...

(and lo, the Gates of Hell opened and threw this ugly fucker out.)

If you weren't blind at arrival, I'm pretty sure you would be right after. I like piercings - ears, belly buttons, tongues, the little nose ones - and even the occasional nipple. But damn! What are these people thinking? They do know that they MAY live past 30, right? That at some point, they need to make a living?

In researching the piercing images, I was reminded of some of the places people liked to get them. Ouch. NO ONE will ever get me to willingly get my scrotum pierced. And body hooks? Are you fucking serious? Why would anyone want piercings that could get them hung up at a loading dock? Imagine airport security.

SECURITY: Empty your pockets,please.

PIERCED: They are empty.

SECURITY: I'm detecting metal. Could you take it out, please?

PIERCED: Okay... if you insist (ZIIIIP!)

SECURITY: (wiping away vomit) Holy fuck! Why would you do that? Twelve times?

PIERCED: Enhances sexual pleasure.

SECURITY: Yeah, but who'd want to fuck it?

See the dilemma? And then there's mods. They're leftover parts, mostly. I think they put them in with a power nailer. And yes, that's his actual EARS.

(No, keep the magnets away! Stop fucking around!)

This guy is actually one of the milder types. Guess he plans on going to hell and wants to look the part. Can't be to pick up chicks.

Unless he has a blind date.

Coffee, the true fuel.

2009-05-30T21:49:00.011-05:00

Coffee. I'm addicted. Here it is, nearly midnight, and I have a fresh cup sitting next to me as I type. Unlike some people, the caffeine doesn't keep me from sleeping. Guess I'm lucky that way. Downside - I have to always to have it. Good thing it's not that expensive, or I 'd have to mug little old ladies or turn tricks to pay for my habit. (That's a lie. I'd never beat up an old lady.) Well, unless I drank only Starbucks. Then I'd have to be a stoplight bum after work.

ME: Five dollars, five dollars man, hook me up!
STRANGER: Why? So you could buy drugs or alcohol?
ME: No, man... Cinnamon Dolce Latte.
STRANGER: (shakes head) Pathetic. Here's four bucks. Get two real coffees. Tim's is around the corner.

Let me describe my daily coffee routine. Some of you may recognize it.

1. Wake up. Stagger to the coffee maker. Pour a cup and down half in one swallow.
2.Go to the bathroom. Come out and finish the cup. Pour another, smoke a cigarette, and finish it before I head into the shower.
3. Pour a travel mug and jump into traffic so I have enough time to get a cup on my way to work.
4. For lunch, a sandwich and you guessed it - coffee.
5. Call home on my way from work so that there's a fresh pot on when I get there.
6. Final pot of the night. Decaf? Fuck that. It's a wonder at this point that my heart doesn't burst from all the caffeine. (Oddly enough, my blood pressure and pulse are always normal. 170/110 and 340 beats. What? That's not normal?)
And there's this image I have in my head about coffee - when I picture it, it's in a cup - heavy, solid, almost bulletproof. In a diner that smells like bacon and hashbrowns, where old men sit with hats on and read the paper. And it costs about fifty cents. Good stuff. Somewhere along the line the granola munchers got it and turned it into this -

That's right. Foo-Foo coffee. Half caf (What the fuck? Half caffeine? Why? What's the fucking point?) soy latte with no foam. Okay, first - NOTHING soy should be anywhere near coffee. You want something that tastes like soy? Lick a diaper. Close enough. Foam? It's a LATTE. It's supposed to have foam.

These "Coffee Shops" are supposed to be cool. The service for the most part sucks - half the time I get the wrong coffee. I ask for a bold. They look at me as if I farted. "You want anything in it? Vanilla syrup?" I say no. Must've farted again. Then they give me a mild. No flavor. Shit. And God help you if you ask for a large. These half a dolts can't figure out what it is in Barrista-ese.

The customers are usually young, or pretending to be. Lots of laptops - everyone's a writer, even in Winnipeg. Of course, if you come in dressed in work attire (translated - orange overalls, a safety thing,) they look at you as if you have a booger on your nose. Never mind that half of them couldn't manage a thought that didn't require spelling with letters AND numbers. Gr8. Like this kid I saw yesterday... help me out here, would you?

(mild examples.)

I guess he was what they call an Emo - like a Goth lite. He wore Converse low tops, black capri pants (I shit you not) black shirt with fishnet sleeves, Alice Cooper style eye makeup, earrings (the body mod type) and carried a black and white checked purse. Far cry from the old man reading a paper, huh?

I had the privilege of standing behind him. He stepped up to the counter and placed his order - half caf soy chai latte, no foam. CHAI? That's fucking TEA! You ordered a diluted TEA??? And he paid five bucks and change for it. I ordered a black COFFEE. BOLD. When we both stepped away from the counter, guess who got the booger look.

Not the Emo.