Friday, July 3, 2009

senator manning Senator Manning: I have a question…
senator kenney Senator Kenney: Yes?
senator manning Senator Manning:  Does the subcommittee’s ruling supersede the rulings of our committee?
senator kenney Senator Kenney:  You’re out of order.
senator manning Senator Manning:  What the hell y’talking aboot?  I just had a simple question!
senator kenney Senator Kenney:  There are no questions now, the motion has been passed and …
senator manning Senator Manning:  You just said I could ask a question!  What the hell, we’re not allowed to ask a simple question?
senator tkatchuk Senator Tkatchuk:  What the?  He just had a simple question!  Fuck this shit!  Hey buddy, fuck you!
senator kenney Senator Kenney:  He’s out of order too… Senator Tkatchuk is out of order.
senator manning Senator Manning:  Wait wait wait here, I’m drunk, I’m tired, and I’m going to punch someone in the fucking face, buddy, if I can’t ask my question.
senator tkatchuk Senator Tkatchuk:  Let him ask his question!
senator kenney Senator Kenney:  I’m sorry – the motion has been passed, I’ve already ruled tha….shut off their microphones please…
senator tkatchuk Senator Tkatchuk:  Fuck this shit, it’s time to MORPH!
senator manning Senator Manning:  Yeah buddy, let’s morph up!  Who’s in favour of morphing up?  Let’s have a vote!
question Senator Kenney [to clerk]:  They can’t morph up now, can they?  We already voted “No morphing” last week, check the records.
senator tkatchuk Senator Tkatchuk:  Fuck this committee and it’s votes, we’re morphing NOW!  Vote up!
senator day Senator Day:  Nay.
senator manning Senator Manning:  Morphing now!
mecha master Mecha Master:  Mecha Master FORMED!  Now, let’s rescind this motion and ask our question!
senator kenney Senator Kenney:  Oh this is totally against the rules.  *I* am the chairman!
mecha master Mecha Master:  RRRRAAARGH!!!  Can we ask our question now?
senator kenney Senator Kenney:  Alright, I guess I have no choice.  Ask your question then.
mecha master Mecha Master:  Does the subcommittee’s ruling supersede the rulings of our committee?
senator kenney Senator Kenney:  Bastards.  No, we have the final say, the moral majority of this committee supersedes a three member committee.
mecha master Mecha Master:  Okay, just checking.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

explosion of robot ninja hammers

Michael Bay movies suck exploding dicks.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

This morning, on the day most glorious to all Canadians (aside from Victoria Day, and possibly Labour Day, oh, and Christmas and most likely people’s own birthdays), I’ve decided to write a post about the history of the most glorious and powerful country in the world, Canada.

Note that at this point, most non-Canadians have already moved on to different blogs where they spell words like ‘labour’ without the ‘u’, and the slim few Canadians that have lingered are most likely infected with SARS or the swine flu and are desperately looking for someplace to hook up.  Sorry infectees, this party ain’t rolling that way.

1866, pre-canada

Before Canada, the land mass north of present-day America was populated by -no, not natives and wayward gold panners – zombie canaries.

zombie canaries

Yes, from the Atlantic to the Pacific existed nothing but zombified songbirds, as evidenced in the excerpt from a journal of the intrepid English explorer, Sir Jacques Wilfred Cartier:

June 14, 1798

I arrived in thee greatest expance of nothing ness on the day, all wast calm and ther wast not a noise to be herd.  That is until deceaced canarie corpses attack my partie and left me for dead.  I pretendered to be dead and occasionally opened mine eyes and saw that they was pecking the very souls out from my traveling companions.  God blast this forsaken land and its undead canaries for my route to the west indies has been onse again compromised by their evilness.

By 1804, settlers to the region that would become Canada had amassed a militia armed with silver bullets and wooden stakes and had decimated the zombie canary population, although for a full fifty years more they remained, preying on the occasional pioneer.  Finally, an inventor by the name of Jean Claude Van Minigun invented the minigun and eliminated the rest of the zombie canaries in the “Battle of 1854″ which is the first account of rallying Canada as a nation.

In 1859, a survey conducted by Madame Ovary of the Third House of Windsor of the people across the expanse and asked the people what they thought of officially joining the British commonwealth.

questionairre

At this point, it was determined that a new nation, under the duress of Queen Elizavictoria, would be formed.  It would have its own parliament and own house of commons and blah blah blah all sorts of legal stuff.

1867, the beginning

Although the nation was almost properly formed, there still hadn’t been a name decided for it yet.  Who would pick the name?  What would the name stand for?  A long list of names was voted upon by people with large heads and small penises, several of the options are listed below:

  • Girthlandia
  • Exile
  • Triumph
  • Boston
  • Bon Jauvi del Nacionamente
  • Hammerland
  • No-Man-Nation
  • Maple Syrup
  • Pierre
  • Jean Pierre
  • Jean Claude Pierre
  • Jean Claude Micheal Pierre
  • Starburst
  • Apologizia
  • Regret
  • Winter
  • Sorry
  • India

In the end, it was settled.  The new nation would be called “Canada” after the native word “Kanata” which meant, “Whitey Go Home” although at the time it was widely believed the word meant “Welcome!”

1874, the americans cause trouble

In 1874, the Americans, jealous of a quasi-prosperous and slightly democratic nation growing right under their nose, decided to invade Canada.  For what actual reason to this day remains unclear.  Perhaps they just wanted to own snow?  Historians once again disagree.

Unfortunately for the Americans, they decided to mount their invasion in late December after Christmas, for most of them had asked Santa for new muzzle-loading rifles.  By January 1875, the American forces had invaded Ottawa by skating up the Rideau canal and then shooting at everything that moved.

revolutionary soldier

Little did they know that very little moves in the depth of winter in Ottawa, aside from the odd chickadee and porcupine.  In fact, the residents of Ottawa had all moved to St. Petersburg in Florida for the winter.  Seeing there were no real people to kill, no government to overthrow, and very little strategic reason for staying, the American forces returned to their own country and began planning to invade Mexico, for at least in Mexico there was tequila and buxom vacationing college students.

1908, the expansion

In 1908 there was a real need to reach the Pacific ocean via rail, for there was salmon to eat, second-rate sci-fi TV series to star in, and fan-fucking-tastic weed out west.  Also, the Americans down south had already done it and Canadians by nature are compelled to do everything the Americans do, but much more expensively and with a lot of whining.

The Canadian government shoved fistfuls of cash at the Canadian Pacific Railway and said, “Find Vancouver.”  Billions of Chinese immigrants lined up at the unemployment offices around the country looking for way to be enslaved and beaten and abused but compensated modestly for it, and the great expanse had begun.

Needless to say the effort was rushed, and several times – due to drunken surveyors – the rail line ended up in Minot, North Dakota.  “Fuck, Minot AGAIN?” became the running joke amongst the railway workers. In fact, in Sault Ste. Marie in Ontario, a giant sign paying tribute to the rail workers states, “Dedicated to all the rail workers that died of boredom in Minot while en route to the Pacific.”

Eventually the railway wended its way through the majestic Rockies and came to a grinding halt just five miles short of the Pacific ocean.  Turns out – as in the great tradition of Canada – the steel workers out east had went on strike, asking for longer lunch hours, more paid sick days, and a pinball machine in the coffee room.  The dreams of a railway reaching across the entire nation was ruined by 100 union employees and would be abandoned for the next 40 years until their grandchildren agreed on a contract that included free sandwiches in lieu of a pinball machine, which at the best of times were hard to maintain due to the fact that vaccuum tubes and servos hadn’t been invented yet.

With the national railway now complete, trainloads of Ukranian and German settlers could traverse the nation and jump off at random spots and create little cloisters of odd people that would remain until present day.  Visitors to the prairies can witness firsthand the effects of inbreeding in these untouched communities when they stop for gasoline.

present day canada

Present day Canada is the picture of a perfect society.  Our cities in the clouds, ruled by Prime Minister Lando Calrissian, are clean and efficient, we have robots to take care of the unpleasant tasks, and the Empire mostly stays out of our hair.

edmonton

Unlike our southern brothers, we have no problems with Mexicans, people of Arab descent, or iPhone transmission speeds.  Our society is determined by the United Nations to be one of the top 200 nations in the world to live in.  Our toilet paper has been voted by readers of Chatelaine Magazine to be the second softest in North America.  We have modern conveniences like television, running water, antibiotics, chimpanzee slaves, and hair nets.

In fact, if you were to visit our beautiful country you would be amazed to find that we have a lot to offer to the vacationing family.  There’s a place outside of Toronto with a few roller coasters, we have some mountains which look slightly different to the mountains of Colorado, and there are a lot of trees in some spots.  You can drink water right out of the tap after it’s been filtered, and we put cheese and gravy on our fries.

Anyways, happy 142nd or whatever the hell birthday it is, Canada! Long live the King!

canada jim carrey

Please feel free to leave your favorite memories of vacationing in Canada or haikus to bottles of maple syrup that your relatives sent you in the comments.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

_
My courageous battle with pot I
_

I know what you’re thinking:  “pot” + “God” = “some sort of story about smoking from some sort of multicolored bong and eventually ending up naked on a stage at a Shriner’s convention with a tasseled felt hat on his head and dollar bills dangling from his rectum.”

I assure you, this little story isn’t about THAT sort of pot.  (In fact, it’s officially been eight years since I tussled with that kind of pot, and according to sources, my brain is STILL somewhat affected almost a decade later.)  No, this is a story about the cooking pots -my nemesiseses (nemesi??)- that lurk in the kitchen in the cupboards and want nothing more than to see me lying in a pool of my own blood on the little patch of linoleum that claims to be my kitchen floor.

See, I inherited a set of pots from my dead grandmother – not the cool dead grandmother that baked cookies and cinnamon buns and let me sleep hangovers away on her couch – no, the OTHER grandmother who was a werewolf and liked nothing better than to feast on our cheeks as kids, and with the rest of her free time, she spent it on garage sales and euchre tournaments and living far enough away to never have to deal with us hillbilly riffraff offspring.

These pots and pans have collectively been a thorn in my side for a number of years now.  I received them from my mother as the inheritance when my grandmother went to the great cribbage game in the sky.  Where other grandchildren get houses and fistfuls of dollars and photograph collections, I get 1950’s pots and pans purchased for $5 from a garage sale in Tampa.  Which is okay, because at the time I received them, I had split up with my ex and was in the market for some tools to cook my sole source of nourishment – macaroni – with.

The problem is the screws.  I don’t want to be a whiner, because you can’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but the fucking screws in these pots are determined to kill me.  See, every few hours, the screws in the handles inexplicably work themselves loose to the point where the handle is ready to come off under the weight of a pot full of boiling water and baby heads.  Okay, not baby heads, I’m just kidding around, I dehydrate those.  But y’know, only when I can least afford to drop a pot full of hot dangerous shit does the screw come loose on a pot in order to kill me by burning my feet off is what I’m getting at here.

Then when it doesn’t succeed in killing me, it implants thoughts of “Hey, tighten that screw with a sharp knife.”  Seriously, it has telepathy and will stop at nothing to ensure I come and visit old grandma in cloudy heaven by slipping when tightening a screw with a steak knife and slicing my wrist off.  (I should point out to grandma that if there’s such a thing as heaven and hell, I’ll likely be joining the ranks in the latter.  Sorry, that’s the way I roll, gramma.)

You may ask yourself, “Why doesn’t he just buy new pots and pans?”  The answer is, “What will I have to remember my grandmother by?  Certainly not my memories.”  Oh, and “Because I’m cheap.”  More because I’m cheap, really.

In fact, yeah, only because I’m cheap.  I’d rather spend my money on taxis to Shriner conventions (and sometimes from, depending on whether or not some old saggy guy is generous enough to give me a ride home after despoiling me) than buy new pots.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

No sooner had I posted my Joe Jackson entry than Some Guy informed via his blog that Billy Mays had croaked.billy mays last sales pitch

WTF?  What’s causing all these celebrities to die all of a sudden, and when will it all stop so I can finally get some work done?  Curse celebrities and their self-centeredness.

So anyways, instead of making a Billy Mays entry and being all smug about how we’ll no longer have to turn down the volume during commercial breaks so our fucking eardrums don’t explode over some potato-peeling invention that allows us to spend more free time with our families and SAVE MONEY, I thought I’d just get everything done in a big mashup tribute.

RIP MCMAYSACKSONCETT:
19SOMETHING to THIS WEEK

Mcmaysfawcettjackson

#The Insultatron#

#Top Commenters (For Whom I Reserve The Hugest Erections)#


    ---TRULY AWESOME---
    #1-Dog Breath (688)
    #2-The Guv'ner (576)
    #3-Falwless (410)
    #4-Cora (376)
    #5-Red (298)
    #6-MJenks (290)
    #7-BeckEye (263)
    #8-Gwen (251)
    #9-Augusto (236)
    #10-katrocket (229)

    ---Mediocre Bitches---
    #11-Scope (214)
    #12-Giggle Pixie (206)
    #13-Cameron (174)
    #14-Fancy (166)
    #15-Some Guy (162)
    #16-Greta (145)
    #17-Candy (144)
    #18-pistols at dawn (117)
    #19-justeasier (112)
    #20-Ginormous Boobs (110)

    ---Get Crackin'---
    #21-E (104)
    #22-DrZibbs (98)
    #23-Suze (98)
    #24-Lydia (78)
    #25-The Ambiguous Blob (74)
    #26-ReformingGeek (73)
    #27-winter (71)
    #28-MorgantheMuse (68)
    #29-leonesse (66)
    #30-Soda & Candy (55)

@Where do my bitches come from?@

@Categories@

>Disclaimer

Everything here is a work of satire and fiction. Any resemblances to people, alive or dead, real or fictional, is purely coincidence even if it looks like it's not, or even when I explicitly say it's not, because I have poor judgement.

If you find this blog offensive, please leave and never come back, ever. Returning if you're offended is about the most retarded thing you can do.

If you're here to build a court case against me, fuck off. You're not allowed to be here.

Before you jihad me, realize that I don't even believe the things I say. For real. It's all a big sham. Thanks for visiting though.
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