After The Great Show

On Friday night Tool rolled through town on their summer/fall North American tour. Needless to say I was ecstatic to see my favorite band play live again.

This was the second time that I got to see Tool live and I found it to be a completely different concert experience than the last time they came to town. This time around Tool put on more of a traditional rock show. I remember seeing them in 2002 and was struck by how dimly lit the band members were to draw attention away from the band and focus that attention on the video screens that up around the stage. This time there was better lighting for the band. Maynard still stood on a riser at the back of the stage while drummer Danny Carey's monster drumkit (quite possibly the largest drumkit in existence) was at the center of the stage with guitarist Adam Jones and bassist Justin Chancellor flanking the drumkit's riser on the right and left respectively.

The setlist that Tool had for this show looks remarkably short on paper:

Stinkfist
The Pot
Forty Six & 2
Jambi
Schism
Rosetta Stoned
Opiate
Sober
Lateralus
Vicarious
Ænema

And for as short as that setlist looks realize that it took around two hours for the band to get through it all. In hindsight I can name about a dozen more songs that I would have loved to hear them play, but this was still a killer set by any stretch of the imagination. The songs were performed with killer precision and they were loud. This concert was easily the loudest concert that I had ever been to. The band would sometimes segue with instrumentals between songs, allowing them to ebb and flow very smoothly, effortlessly. My favorite song of the set turned out to be "Rosetta Stoned" a song off of their latest album 10,000 Days that I had really not listened to very much.

Maynard had some sparse banter for the audience, greeting them with, "Calgary said to say 'hi.'" When the audience put forth its best We-Hate-Calgary boo Maynard replied with, "What, did they fuck your girlfriend or something?" Oh Maynard, you jokester. Later, during a pause in the setlist Maynard joked "How do you stop a dog from humping your leg?" The answer, of course, "Pick it up and start sucking its dick."

All-in-all this show was probably the best I had ever been to. It's tough to compare it to the first time I saw Tool because the concerts seemed like two entirely different beasts. The first time I saw them it was a multimedia art experience and this time was more of a rock concert.

It was an amazing show and if you missed it I pity you.

Don't despair too much. Maynard did hint that they would be returning to Alberta soon, though he did add that he would be one of the stormtroopers invading from America for our oil. Oh well, you win some, you lose some. I do hope they come back eventually. I would pay good money to see another show like that.

Tool

I apologize ahead of time for the brevity of this post.

I'm getting myself psyched up for the Tool concert that's happening in Edmonton tonight! I mean it's not as though I really need any effort to get psyched to see Tool again, but I'm just spending some time right now getting reacquainted with Tool's catalogue. That's some damn good music.

I'll post my thoughts on the show the next time I'm on. I'm sure I'll be raving about it.

For those of you who are going to be at the Tool concert tonight you might want to take a look at row 27 on the floor because in that row you're likely to see the happiest Tool fan in the world. See you there.

I think I need to change my pants.

More Than Meets The Eye

Click here.

There are a lot of people who, like me, got really excited when they heard the news that there was going to be a live-action Transformers movie going into production. And there are probably many more of you who don't have a clue as to whatever the fuck it is I'm talking about. You're sitting there, just scratching your head, probably dressed in ill-fitting boxer shorts and saying:

Michael, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about.

Transformers. You know. Those toys from way back in the day. You'd see a car or a plane or a dildo and then KABLAMMO! it's a fucking fighting robot! And, holy shit, did those robots have some adventures. Really, it was all subject to the limits of a child's imagination what those toys could do.

I made my Transformers engage in heated debates over existentialism. Starscream would quote Sartre and Optimus Prime would offer his rebuttal in the form of a gun blast right between the fucking robot eyes. Optimus Prime was never much for debate.

Anyway, I'm veering off topic with that. Back to the task at hand. So there you are, probably giddy trying to imagine what a Transformers live action movie would look like. Or, if you've just found out what a Transformer was you're probably changing your boxer shorts after shitting yourself because, brother, those little robots are everywhere. They could be right behind you right now. Made you look.

So, then you find out that Michael Bay is the man who's directing the movie and your expectations go from, "Oh my god I could just shit my pants I'm so excited to see this movie!" to"Oh my god, why, Michael Bay, why? Couldn't the producers hire somebody competent to direct this movie?!?!?!"

And then....

Why reading a little blurb about the upcoming Michael Bay movie "Transformers: The Movie" on CominSoon.net (Please, Michael Bay, don't fuck it up like you did everything else you've directed) I stumbled across news of a contest that the screenwriters for the film are having in which random assholes and idiots get to submit lines that Optimus Prime should say. The winner, of course, will get to hear Optimus Prime utter the winning line next summer when Michael Bay potentially disappoints all of us into a homicidal rage.

Okay, I can deal with the fact that it looks like at lease 0.02% of the dialogue in the movie will be written by somebody who probably has no business owning a computer or any sort of writing implement. Good for him. I hope he's enjoying being the proud owner of opposable thumbs.

What bugs me, though, is that without actually seeing the movie how the fuck would anybody know what Optimus Prime needs to say? I'm no expert on continuity, but you can't just have Optimus fucking Prime blurt out, "Oh Bumblebee, fuck me with your robot cock!" if the Transformers movie has no robot-on-robot sex scenes. I have a feeling that half the lines I've submitted already have probably been eliminated from the contest because the film isn't going to be pornographic in the slightest. But then again, I have about as much of a clue as to what's going to happen in the movie as anybody else at this point.

So not only does it look like there's the very real possibility that Transformers is going to be a huge let-down at the box office next summer, but it also looks like 0.02% of the dialogue in the movie won't make any fucking sense at all and could possibly involve the words: "robot cock." My fingers are crossed for all the right reasons.

Portrait

Portrait
A man has jimmied
open the door of the
janitors’ supply closet
in the men’s room.

A bottle of the blue stuff is missing.

The man
hunched
over one of the sinks,
scrubbing

the way a meth-head
might clean house

or an O.C.
checks and rechecks
door locks

frantic.

He’s scrubbing
because before this
he shit himself and
now it’s time
to deal with stains
to deal with odors
to deal with
one’s nagging humility.

The look on his face is
that of pure, fucking, torture.

Enough to make one wonder
whether it’s most appropriate to

laugh,

cry,

or vomit.

Ten Guests Over For Dinner

Okay, here's the deal. You get to throw a dinner party for ten people, living or dead. Those people can be anybody of your choosing. Want Napolean over for a fat, juicy steak? Done. Want to show Gandhi a thing of two about gorging one's self on mashed potatoes? Done. So who would those people be? This is not a new concept. Mike Gravel's old Dirtpuppy website had this topic before, but it's something interesting to talk about. I'll post my list and why the people are on that list. There is definitely a comments section, though, so please post who you would want to have a meal with.

So here we go (in no order of importance)...

1.) Chuck Palahniuk- Those of you who know me will find the inclusion of Chuck P's name of no surprise whatsoever. He is one of the most dynamic writers out there in the sense that there is a certain lyrical quality to his prose that cannot be denied. So while he is writing a great story like Fight Club or Choke there are just so many passages of those books that can be read out loud like good poetry. He is one of my literary heroes.

2.) Maynard James Keenan- Again, a no-brainer. Tool, being my favorite band, needs some representation at the dinner table and who better to represent them than their vocalist? His presence at the party would give me a chance to ask him for some of the meanings behind some of Tool's more abstract lyrics.

3.) Gordon Downie- When will I take some chances with this list, you ask? Maybe in a number or two. Gordon Downie, the lead singer of the Tragically Hip, as well as a sorely underrated solo artist, is a national treasure. He is one of the few singers who could release a book of poetry that doesn't make me shudder. He also seems like a good guy to just have a beer or two with, which could definitely come in handy at this dinner party.

4.) Allen Ginsberg- I imagine Mr. Ginsberg would have some of the most amazing stories to tell. The Beat Generation is full of names one could feasibly invite to a dinner party like this and no matter who you get you're going to get to hear stories that will undoubtedly become American legends. Ginsberg, as a man, seemed to be incredibly open to experiences so I doubt that there is one topic of conversation that he couldn't expound on at great length.

5.) Henry Rollins- Another man who can tell some incredible stories is Henry Rollins. If you've ever been to one of his spoken word shows you know exactly what I'm talking about. He's a cultural juggernaut, really.

6.) Bill Hicks- There is so much that I would love to talk to Bill Hicks about. He was a brilliant comic and social commentator who was shuffled off the mortal coil much too early in his life. More than any other dead hero out there he's the guy whose observations I miss the most every time I watch the news and see all the sad shit going down in the world. I have to listen to his CDs just to have him remind me that it's all "just a ride."

7.) David Cross- Maybe I'm loading up on comics and social commentators too much for one dinner. I imagine that with all the joking and such going on a the dinner table I would be launching food and beverages out my nose at an alarming rate.

8.) Wayne Gretzky- I suppose this is sort of an oddball selection to have on this list since he seems to be the only athlete, but he was a staple of my youth. Again, it would be great to just get some of his stories from the glory days of the dynasty Oilers. Not just the stories about what it was like on the ice, which seem to come up all the time, but the stories about what the team was like off the ice, what it was like to be a young phenom, what it was like to be the king of the world.

9.) Sarah Polley- Canadian eye candy who has a ton of brains to boot. Smart. Sexy. She's a total package. I think it would be great to get her and Gordon Downie to duet on "Courage." If you ever get a chance to check out her rendition of the Tragically Hip classic you should definitely do it. She took a great rocker and turned it into a haunting balad.

10.) Ray Kurzweil- He'd be there to tell us that no matter how bleak things look in this world of ours there is always the promise of a glorious future. He probably has the lowest profile personality on this list, but that doesn't diminish his role at the dinner table. He's a futurist, the best kind of futurist, an optimist.

So there you have it. Probably not a surprising list to most of you out there. Do take the time to come up with your own list, put it in the comments section, or, better yet, post it on your blog (if you have one). It's a good way to get to know each other.

Baby Tool

On a recent perusal of the Toolarmy website I found myself in the message boards. At that time I found a link to Baby Rock Records and, more specifically, an upcoming album of Tool songs redone as children's lullabies. In fact, they seem to have a healthy catalogue of similar albums set to be released, each dedicated to many popular mainstream rock acts, acts traditionally not associated with children's songs.

And all I can say to this discovery is: Holy fucking shit! That is so fucking cool!

It sounds a bit strange, but there were always songs in the Tool catalogue that I could imagine getting treatments as full-on lullabies. Naturally, I never actually expected an album with such treatments to get made.

Oh come on, Michael, what songs of Tool's could you possibly have thought would make soothing lullabies?

Well, first and foremost, I always thought that "Third Eye" off of 1996's Ænima would make a great lullaby. With lyrics like "So good to see you, I missed you so much. So glad it's over, I missed you so much," it has a certain soothing quality about it. Definitely songs like "Parabol" and it's follow-up "Parabola" off of my favorite Tool album, Lateralus, could be envisioned as lullabies very easily.

Unfortunately, because this album, and all the other albums in the Baby Rock Records catalogue still awaiting release, I haven't actually had a chance to hear what the final product sounds like. I'm very hopeful that they will come out sounding nothing short of amazing, though I'm guessing that the lyrics to many of the songs in that series will probably be omitted and there will be no vocals at all. That's just a guess and I hope that I am wrong because a lot of these songs have such powerful lyrics, which I think might account for why they lend themselves to lullabies so readily. I guess time will only tell what the albums sound like.

I'm pretty sure I'll try to track a few of these albums down nonetheless. Not so much for my own listening pleasure, though I could probably derive great pleasure fom being lulled into sleep to a lullaby Tool CD or a lullaby Radiohead, or, hell, just about any album out of that catalogue, but rather because someday when I'm a father myself I will want to teach my kid a thing or two about good musical taste and what better way to get them some proper musical appreciation than to start them out listening to a Tool CD geared toward children? How fucking cool would that be?

So, thank you to bastardometer for bringing this unique Tool CD and, indeed, a very unique catalogue of albums, to my attention.

The Rockabye Baby: Lullaby Renditions Of Tool CD ships on September 19, 2006. Other albums in the series drop throughout the fall and into spring of next year. Tool will be playing live at Rexall Place here in Edmonton on August 25 and if you look at row 27 on the floor at that show you just might see the happiest Tool fan in the world that night.

Humidor

It's been a while since I've posted any new poetry to the blog. So after so long here is something new. I actually had the first draft of this poem done a while back, but I've finally had a chance to sit down and revise it. I think it reminds me a lot of an earlier poem of mine called "Human Hot Box" in that it deals a lot with the same subject matter, but this poem "Humidor" takes that same topic, the smell of smoke in one's clothing, and romanticizes it. Anyway, enjoy.

Humidor
The smoke from your
cigarette isn’t the
smoke that haunts my clothing;
chokes, stifles, and drips misery
from coalminer lungs
like charcoal briquette flavored cola.

I’m in love with your smoke.

Every time you exhale in
wafting plumes,
blonde-haired, bespectacled mushroom cloud
erupting in
loveliness, a
figment of a steadily disappearing peacock.
Poaching Diane Fossey’s gorillas in the living room.
White stream meandering
up and over bulb of nose,
down the bridge,
into nothingness and
good thoughts

--seeming.

It tickles the
hairs inside my nostrils and ears,
fills me with old Europe or
what I imagine old Europe to be,
character-actor-type old men who
talk strictly en français and play chess,
pretentious artistic types who minimalize
facial expressions as effectively as
they do details,
broad-shouldered German ladies who
belt out tunes to
packed houses and
ask,
nay,
demand a hearty sing-along from a
receptive audience.

I don’t even know your foreign tunes.

Bar rooms suffocate;
casinos are nauseous, a
rainbow of stale odors and
creeping death, the
looking down the dark hole of
one’s own mortality.

You, I could sleep
inside your cloud and
feasibly dream of long
steamboat trips or
making love on the Seine, the
way it cusps and hangs in
wreathes
through these years in
your cosmopolitan sheath
can kill and
probably will;

call me a dead man.

Give me a tumor;
terminally in love with you.

The Bottom Ten, July 2006

10.) Carnies- What is a carnie? Well, traditionally they're sketchy looking meth addicts who always appear to be suppressing constant shrieking disorder. Right? Right. You go to the fairs and carnivals and they're supposed to reek of body odor and and they're supposed to have problematic body hair. Capital Ex recently happened here in Edmonton and I had a chance to check it out. And you know what? The carnies were actually people who didn't look like they were going to stab you while shrieking constantly; they actually looked like normal people. I don't know about you all, but to me that's a sure sign that the low unemployment rate is hitting businesses hard. Carnival companies can't even attract proper carnies; they have to hire normal decent-looking people. Part of the thrill of going to carnivals is not knowing whether or not some carny was going to shriek at you while picking at his/her face; it was a scary, thrilling experience. Now, not so much.

9.) Old People- One thing that the hot weather that always irritates me is that it inspires old people to get out of the house and go to air conditioned environments (i.e. where I work). Have you ever walked behind a pack of old people? Like creeping slowly toward the grave it is. And can you pass them? Oh fuck no! There is such a thing as courteous walking and old people have no fucking concept of what it is. They walk three or four abreast and passing them is impossible because they form this sort of solid wall of vericose veins, wheelchairs, walkers, prosthetic hips, and motorized scooters. Fuck! Single file, people! Most places of business would benefit from hiring a team of professional movers whose job it would be to spot geezers and cryptkeepers as they enter the building, pick them up and physically carry them to where they need to go, walking at a normal human gait. Insurance companies won't cover shit like that. I know because I've checked.

8.) Insurance Companies- Seriously, insurance companies, you have no fucking clue what it's like to constantly have to walk behind a flock of geezers. Please reconsider.

7.) That Guy With The Light Bulb Up His Ass- To kind of get back to the story I linked to quite brilliantly in my tirade on the media's handling of depictions of people flipping the bird, there was a prisoner in Pakistan who recently had to have a light bulb surgically removed from his ass. He claims that he had no idea how it got there; that perhaps his fellow prisoners drugged him and inserted it while he was unconscious. Yeah right, buddy, you run with that story. Anyway, if that is true it is my theory his cellmate did it to him because I believe if you insert a light bulb up your ass and then shuffle your feet to build up a static charge, said light bulb will actually light up. I believe the man's cellmate did it as a means of constructing a crude, but effective reading light for when he wants to read after lights out in the prison. Those prisoners, they're industrious like that. Somebody get that inventive man a job in the real world. We need people who think outside the ass like that.

6.) Firing The Technical Virgin- Click here. Years back a video made the rounds on the internet. In the video a woman made a joke public service announcement about how you can still technically call yourself a virgin if you only take it up the ass. It was pretty fucking funny. So anyway, the girl who appeared in the video went on to become the host of children's television show on PBS. She was recently fired because her bosses found out about the video, a video she made years ago. If you ask me, keeping the girl on the show would have only improved ratings because preschool children, the target audience of the show, are oblivious to the concept getting poked in the winking brown eye and many adults would tune in because they are fascinated by the that same concept. I'm many adults, aren't I? Seriously, though, there is a petition you can sign to help the girl out. Here's a link.

5.) The Madden 2007 Pay-Per-View- Click here. You mean I can pay $20.00 to watch a pay-per-view that previews an upcoming $50.00 video game? Where the fuck do I sign up? There's a new Madden game every fucking year and that's all well and cool, but do we really need a $20.00 preview of a game that is essentially the same as last year's version except with an updated roster and a scarier looking John Madden featured in the game? Fucking rights we do! Anybody who shells out $20.00 for this pay-per-view is a knob with too much disposable income and they should pay me an additional $20.00 for getting a chance to learn this fact from me. Contact me for my PayPal info, idiots!

4.) People Who Complain That It's Too Hot Outside- Okay, I'll accept it when somebody makes a passing comment about how it's hot outside, but leave it at that and only that. I fucking hate listening to people go on as nauseam, "Ohhhh, it's soooo hot outside. Tooooo hot." Spare me your complaints, fucktards. You're the same people who complain that it's too cold in the winter. Realize that complaining about the weather will get you nowhere. So why the fuck bother? Exactly.

3.) Banning Nudity On The Seine- Click here.

City hall has issued a decree banning indecent clothing to preserve the tranquility of the sandy beaches created on the banks of the River Seine every summer since 2001.

How the fuck does indecent clothing destroy the tranquility of sandy beaches? Last time I checked it's volume that destroys tranquility. Indecent clothing just gives men boners. I suppose it might create a lot of divets and such in the sand what with all those boners poking holes into the sand, but that's why God created rakes, assholes. Just rake that shit over. Don't take away our titties!

2.) Hangovers During Heat Waves- Worst fucking feeling the world, ever.

1.) The General Voting Public- Click here. This is why I don't take part in calls for the public to name shit. A bridge in Budapest might be named after Chuck Norris thanks to a website set up by Budapest's Economy Ministry. Okay, I dig the Chuck Norris jokes; they are pretty fucking funny, but come on. You're going to let a bunch of internet geeks determine how landmarks in your area of the world are going to get named?

Why won't they name a bridge after me?

The Weekend Summed Up In One Picture

I did survive.

Happy Birthday

I just wanted to say happy birthday to Jordan. A little late, of course. As is my custom.

The Shock Of The Finger

Watching MuchMusic tonight I happened to catch the video for the Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Can't Stop." I know what you're going to say and, yes, I swear I saw an actual fucking music video on MuchMusic, which is an anomaly given their round-the-clock schedule of playing second-tier reality shows and filler material that is thinly veiled attempts at fellating which ever pop star happens to big at a given moment. So, yes, I did see an actual music video amongst all that other shit and, while I was naturally in shock and finding myself having to stick fucking toothpicks in my eyes so that I wouldn't miss a single frame of one of the last music videos to ever play on a station that seemed to have a mandate to play music videos, I noticed on strang thing about the "Can't Stop" video that kind of bugged me afterward.

The video itself is actually quite well-done and has a very distinct visual appeal to it. What bothered me was one scene in which Flea, the Red Hot Chili Peppers' bassist extraordinaire, wearing an oversized purple plush hippopotamus head, gives a hand gesture, which is digitally blurred out. The hand gesture, I can only assume, is the extended ring finger, standing alone and proud which means, "I just had anal sex with your mother." I know, it's pretty shocking. I don't make up what these hand gestures mean, I just play along. Everytime I fuck somebody's mom up the ass I am, in observance of proper etiquette, required to flash the hand gesture of extending my ring finger to them and, usually, sticking my tongue out and leering at the same time. It's quite the sight to behold.

But, in all seriousness, the hand gesture, though could not be seen by me through the digital censoring, was quite possibly, the bird. That's right, the middle finger standing alone on one's hand, proclaiming to the world, "I'm mad as hell and fuck you, and fuck you, and fuck you, and fuck you over there too, you motherfucking fuckheads! Go eat a bag of bull semen!" Or something like that. Naturally, it's a good thing the hand gesture got censored out because I just don't think I could handle seeing that. It would just be too much.

Does anybody actually get shocked any more by the sight of somebody giving the finger? I mean, we live in a world where violence is in the news, it's on t.v., Dennis Franz showed his bare ass on primetime, Dr. Phil continues to have a career, and Barbara Streisand threatens world peace with the promise of a comeback tour. Is somebody giving the finger really that much of a faux pas that it has be digitally altered?

Well, yes, you stupid shithead, we have to censor that because we really need to protect the impressionable children of the world.

Wrong. You know what? There are probably some children who would see an image of somebody giving the finger and try it themselves, probably at very inopportune times too, like when they're taking communion in church or when they're servicing their priest (interpret that one how you will), or when an international dignitary decides to pay a surprise visit to their town or to just pop over for dinner out of the blue. And you want to know something else? Big fucking deal. It's a fucking hand gesture. Those same kids who are in that monkey see, monkey do mindset are too fucking ignorant to know that it means, "Fuck you, you fucking douchebag. Go shove a lightbulb up your ass!" You gotta love how I was able to work that link in. But back to the topic, it would then fall on the parents to make sure their children are properly educated as to if and when deploying the bird is appropriate. The kids are going to learn all about the finger by time they're in elementary school so, really, how long do you expect to keep them in the dark through censorship?

Secondly, the whole censorship of a stupid hand gesture becomes more a double-edged sword in the sense that when one is confronted by an image that is censored there is an added level of attention drawn to whatever piece of the puzzle is censored out. People expound on it. They go on the internet and find the uncensored, unedited image. They write a fucking blog entry about it. By censoring the image we are added emphasis to how important, cool, edgy, etc. the hand gesture is. Right now as I am writing this I'm flipping you off because it's just too fucking cool! I can't stop!

And finally, is there anything more adorable than a wee child flipping you off? Even when they're gesturing to me, "Fuck you, you fucking failed cumstain! Go fuck a giraffe!" even I can't bring myself to say anything other than, "Awwwww, isn't that just precious? He thinks he's big people!"

It Can't Be Said Enough

So today I kind of made a rediscovery. I say "rediscovery" in a very loose sense of the word because, really, it was a discovery that never left me. In fact, I've probably been blathering on and on about this so-called "rediscovery" to just about everybody I talk about music with. That "rediscovery?" The Arcade Fire's Funeral.

If you haven't had a chance to check this album out you have to do so.

What really struck me this time as I listened through the album was how this was an entire album of potential singles. I hate saying shit like that because when a person is a fan of a band or an album, I mean a real fan, they tend to have a bias when they make bold statement such as calling each song a potential single. But really, folks, as I was listening I found myself able to hear it as a song that could be played on modern rock radio until the public got sick of hearing it. I really believe that in four years time when everybody is doing that "Top Ten Albums Of The Aughts" or whatever else they call their list, Funeral is going to be one of the albums that becomes a staple for listmakers.

That's really all I wanted to say. I'm listening to the whole thing again. I'm obsessed right now. I'll post something more substantial later.

Until then.

Go buy the fucking album all ready, jerk-asses!

R.I.P. Syd Barrett

R.I.P. Syd Barrett.

Maybe Arranged Marriages Aren't The Way To Go

For those of you out there who are single, for those of you out there who kind of just bounce from lover to lover like an endless game of hot-sweaty human pinball with all that bumping and dinging of bells and climbing scores, what with that coy pillow talk and long licks with hot, wet...ahem....ummmm, where was I again? Oh yeah, for all of you out there who aren't married, but spend considerable time wondering why you aren't married, why it can't be as easy as just having your parents arrange for you a spouse with a hefty dowry and all your problems solved:

Read this.

A Springfield, Massachusetts man is suing family friends (well, I suppose they probably won't be family friends after receiving the lawsuit) who had arranged a marriage between the man's son and their niece. Why is he suing his friends, you ask? Well, to put it bluntly, their niece is an eyesore while his son is handsome. You just can't have a handsome man marrying something that looked like it just walked out of a Hindu sideshow. When the marriage was being arranged the uncle and aunt of the blushing bride-to-be didn't string together the sentence, "Oh, by the way, our niece is a homely, homely girl and by saying this now it is our disclaimer that your handsome son stands a 50% chance of fathering some of the ugliest babies that ever popped out of a human vagina." They didn't say that. Not once. So, naturally, by failing to say those aforementioned words, the couple is clearly guilty of fraud and worthy of a lawsuit.

Now, I will admit that I'm not an expert on the ins and outs of arranged marriages. My parents repeated tried to marry me off for $200.00 and three fourth round draft picks and a conditional fifth round draft pick, but thankfully the other team declined the offer. But in all seriousness, the girl had "protruded bad teeth, and couldn't speak English to hold a conversation," and to top it off her complexion was also brought into question. Woof. Throw the dog a bone. Fuck.

But here it is, why not let her meet your son, buddy? They might hit it off. They might not. Maybe your son likes the uglies. Some dudes are down with that sort of stuff. I mean I see guys with ugly, ugly girls all the time. Conversely I see beautiful women with ugly, ugly men. It leads me to believe that we all march to the beat of our own drummers no matter how fucking homely they are. Sometimes we just see past the barbecue stains, the gangrenous left hand, the cleft lip, the thinning hair, the ingrown fingernails, the superfluous third, fourth, fifth, and sixth nipples, and whatever else they have for maladies and we still get hard-ons and wet cooches.

And, hey, if the son is really that repulsed by the sight of the ugly fiancee all he has to do is reply "I don't," when the priest or minister, or whatever official oversees the ceremony asks him if he takes her for the rest of his life. I know that for an ugly enough woman I would definitely be willing to say, "I don't."

I mean, what the fuck were you expecting your friends to say about their niece, really?

"Oh no, you don't want to wed your son to our niece because she is like looking at a horse's ass right after explosive curry diarrhea. She's a fixer-upper and he'd best start by installing a paper bag over her homely head."

Seriously? That's what you wanted them to say?

Maybe you should have asked for a picture up front. Maybe then they'd still be friends.

You don't keep friends by filing lawsuits against them.

Battle Of The Cultural Monsters

Click here.

Have you ever seen one of those movies the revolve around a fight between two sides that you don't want to see win? A good example is a movie like Freddy Vs Jason or even any number of those Japanese monster movies where the two larger-than-life monsters square off in a fight that brings nothing but distruction to the Japanese countryside. Ooo. Ooo. Or how about Alien Vs Predator? The point is that I'm describing a movie where two evil, evil forces square off against each other and you just don't know who to cheer for or even why for that matter.

That's the story I have for you tonight.

Two sick, twisted, evil, revolting entities are, quite possibly, getting ready to do battle in a courtroom setting. And you know what? Much like the tagline for the aforementioned Alien Vs Predator movie: Whoever wins...we lose. The combatants in this fight for ultimate evil? Barbara Streisand and Barbara Streisand fans.

That's right Barbara Streisand. Barbara Streisand fans.

Whoever win...we lose.

Okay Michael, we get it. That crusty hideous 'diva' Barbara Streisand is evil incarnate. But her fans? Why, they're just a bunch of yuppie diva wanna-be's. Ohhhhhh, I see where you're going with this. They're evil because they're a bunch of yuppie diva wanna-be's.

Wow, you're getting good at this.

But no, not all of Bab's (I should almost punch myself in the testicles for referring to her as 'Babs') fans are yuppie diva wanna-be's. I'm sure there are fans of her work from all walks of life, but this story concerns a specific sect of her fans. The fans who could not only afford to throw away thousands of dollars to see the last shows she ever performed live back in 1999, but also afford the thousands and thousands of dollars it will take to sue the retired diva because she has just announced a new tour, thus negating those "final" live shows as being "final" live shows back in 1999.

So, there you have it, a bunch of Streisand's fans are threatening to sue her because they spent all that disposable income on tickets to her last shows ever just so that they could brag to friends that they got to see her last shows, which I'm sure led to numerous punches to the testicles and/or beef curtains because there is nary an evil force more annoying than somebody who brags about getting to see a Barbara Streisand concert.

On one hand, if Streisand wins the threatened litigation a bunch of people with too much money and who, for some insane reason, like Barbara Streisand, lose even more money, which is good because it would teach them all a valuable lesson about tying up the legal system with squabbles over what constitutes a "final" concert. On the other hand, if the fans win this battle, maybe Barbara Streisand will be forced to cancel her tour (it couldhappen!) and I won't have to listen to people at parties bragging about how they saw Barbara Streisand in concert, and it would probably cost the diva a lot of money, which she definitely has too much of.

So who the fuck is a guy supposed to cheer for here? Does my desire to see a bunch of yuppies humiliated in court outweigh my desire to see Barbara Streisand humiliated in court?

Whoever wins...we lose.

I'm Sure This Matters

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A movie that is getting set for release, "Facing The Giants," is being bitch-slapped by the MPAA (the Motion Picture Association of America) with a PG rating because it was rife with religious content.

And the movie's makers? Pissed off.

Why are they pissed off, you ask? Well, the MPAA rated the movie PG instead of G. PG implies that there is material in a given movie that would require parental guidance whereas a G rating implies that any simp can go watch the fucking movie and there's absolutely no danger of being warped from the experience. As you can tell I was raised watching many G rated movies.

So there's the flap, the legal squabble. You have two sides splitting hairs over PG and G ratings.

Okay, picture it, if you will, you're a 5-year-old kid out on the town with your best buds, cruising the mall and picking up hot-looking toddler chicks and then you decide, Holy shit, dude, we should totally hit up the multiplex because I really need a darkened theater to put the sweet, sweet moves on this three-year-old nympho! So you go to the theater and, because you're only five fucking years old, you have a decidedly reduced choice of movies that you can get into. On one hand you could probably go to see "Cars" or you could go see "Facing The Giants" except that.... Oh what the fuck, man, that fucking movie's been slapped with a PG rating. We're going to have to sneak into that one! Fuck! And then, by that point, your plans of sneaking into the steamy PG rated movie as opposed to, say, its G rated counterparts, has taken so long that the three old nympho that you met at the food court has left to hook up with somebody who is old enough to get into PG rated movies with the parental units. Aw fuck! When will the MPAA ever learn?

Now, did you notice anything wrong at all with the previous paragraph? That's right, the last two sentence should have been italicized to keep in tune with the internalized voice I established before. Oh, and also there aren't many five-year-old fucking kids who cruise the fucking mall looking for three-year-old nymphos to hook up with at screenings of a PG rated Christian movie! It should pretty much be a given that if you aren't old enough to get into a movie by yourself you're probably going to be accompanied by an adult, thus satisfying the silly requirements of the almost entirely bullshit rating we know as P-fucking-G. In this day and age you mean to tell me that there are parents who would let little children just blithely wander into darkened movie theaters all by themselves when they're not old enough to get into PG rated movies on their own? With MySpace users and other sexual deviants comprising 73% of the general population? Are you people insane?

You're splitting hairs on a fucking rating that is useless. Way to go morons. I'm sure there will be a ton of parents who are going to be holding their kid's hand outside the multiplex looking at the movie poster and seeing that demonic PG rating and going, "Hmmmm, I wonder if little Sally is going to want to see a religious movie about a football coach or if she would rather see an animated movie about talking cars."

"Any strong or mature discussion of any subject matter results in at least a PG rating," Glickman said. "This movie had a mature discussion about pregnancy, for example. It also had other mature discussions that some parents might want to be aware of before taking their kids to see this movie."

Ahhhhhh...so the whole religious persecution was just a figment of the fundamentalist right wing's imagination. Those stupid idiots. All along they were crying persecution for their religious beliefs, but they failed to make a note of the fact that when the subject of pregnancy comes up in the movie there might be more than a handful of little five and six year olds who want to know about the mysteries of life, love, and donkey punching.

Do I intend to see the controversial "Facing The Giants"? No. And it's not because the religious themes don't mesh with my sensibilities. It's because it just doesn't sound that interesting to me, which I am suspecting is how a lot of little kids are going to be seeing this movie, especially when you put it next to movies about talking cars and forest animals with witty retorts to everything that comes their way.

Religious persecution indeed.

The Bottom Ten, June 2006

10.) Window Coverings- Civic politics, man, civic politics. Euclid, Ohio, is finally tightening the thumb screws on those fucking asshole dickheads who hang blankets and bedsheets in their windows as window coverings. Those fucking monsters! I think it's about time some town council somewhere in the world whipped out testicles big enough to bring a law against this tasteless, vulgar display of interior decoration. I can just imagine the courtroom crammed with lawyers trying to defend these amoral, sick, sadistic window covering fuckheads. If I were living in Euclid, Ohio, I would definitely be one of those people willing to let rapists, murderers, serial jaywalkers, and child molesters rule the streets just so long as those hideous, hideous bedsheet-hanging pissflaps are finally, finally brough to swift and decisive justice. Hang the fuckers! And, yes, I do, in fact have a blanket hanging in my window, but that's I fled Euclid. I'm an outlaw and an exile. Fuck you!

9.) Menudo- Didn't the 80's end 16 fucking years ago? "If I wind up the next Ricky Martin or Marc Anthony, that would be great!" he said with a winning smile. Wow, that would be great! Holy shit! I take it all back about Menudo, folks. I mean, I thought that by saying that the 80's ended 16 years ago it meant that the shitty music of Menudo should have been over 16 years ago too, but then I had to take into consideration that Menudo launched the careers of not only Ricky Martin, but also Marc Anthony. Well shit, now I have to stand corrected because the 80's didn't just end 16 years ago, they should have been erased en masse from the collective human memory banks because we're still paying for our mistakes of letting Menudo fester in that decade like a cauliflower head of genital warts that also sings obnoxious pop music. Sorry, I was just looking for an excuse to use the analogy of a cauliflower head of genital warts and Menudo, for some reason, fit that analogy well. I mean Menudo does sound kind of like that STD we caught back in the 80's and we're still trying to forget. Looks like it's flaring up again.

8.) Bong Laws- So let me get this straight....you can't break into a tomb and decapitate the corpse that rests inside of it so that you can make a bong out of its skull? What the fuck is the world coming to when you can't desecrate a grave for the purposes of smoking weed, man? Fucking fascists!

7.) Age Of Consent- And then you mean to tell me that I can't cruise junior high schools looking for sweet, sweet poon tang with a 14 year old girl before going to desecrate graves so I can make a bitchin' bong out of a decapitated human skull? Are you guys trying to make a joyless robot out of everybody? Seriously. I had my heart set on doing the daytime talkshow circuit of Maury Povich and Montel Williams when they do that "Human Skid Mark Has Knocked Up My Daughter And Decapitated My Grandfather's Corpse" topic. They do that topic like once a week, but still. I had my eye on making a career out of bongs and banging 14-year-olds. Sigh.

6.) Britney Spears The Magazine- Britney seems to finally be at work on getting her own regular publication to newsstands everywhere and it's about time. If there's one thing that has been dominating my thoughts over the past number of months and leaving me sleepless over many, many nights it's that the former pop princess has yet to set the record straight regarding her marriage to K-Fed-eroo-dawger-snipesta or whatever the fuck that hillbilly she married is named. Yep, issue after issue of reading about the dynamics of the relationship between two of the most phony, one-dimensional celebrities out there. There is a god. Holy fuck, there's still time to get on board with a lifetime subscription to that one!

5.) Rush Limbaugh And Viagra Appearing In The Same Paragraph- Rush Limbaugh was caught in possession of somebody else's Viagra prescription. Limbaugh joked aout the search on his radio show Tuesday, saying Customs officials didn't believe him when he said he got the pills at the Clinton Library and he was told they were blue M&Ms. He later added, chuckling: "I had a great time in the Dominican Republic. Wish I could tell you about it." Ewwwwwwwwww! Does anybody else feel compelled to drink a cup of bleach when they imagine Rush Limbaugh with a Viagra hard-on? There are times when I think there are certain people who are so sexually unappealing that it should be a criminal act for them to engage in anything remotely sexual. Rush Limbaugh probably has to take Viagra because he gets to see himself naked. That would kill Michael-Jackson-In-An-Elementary-School-Strength Erections.

4.) The Food Shortage In Germany- Food is at such a premium in Germany right now what with the World Cup going on that Victoria Beckham can't even afford a sandwich. Okay, seriously, I think she's disappearing. I think that the world needs to intervene and start sending Germany emergency supplies of food lest the British affluent wither and die. We need a fucking Farm Aid concert or something.

3.) Ten Years Too Early- Ashlee Simpson to pose for Playboy? Not yet! I don't know who fielded the offer of $4 million to Vanilli Simpson to pose, but they forgot that the rule of thumb for pop princesses is that they don't pose until ten years after people have forgotten them. This fucks things up a little because this news keeps the lip-syncher in the spotlight into the 16th minute. So I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand it keeps Ashlee Simpson in the news (if you call declining an offer from Playboy news) meaning I have to hear about her, but on the other hand it means that I won't have to see her nude in the pages of Playboy, which I read strictly for the articles and witty cartoons. So it's a mixed blessing.

2.) Getting Old- I really felt old tonight because I went to see the Wilco concert at the Jubilee Auditorium. The Wilco show itself didn't make me feel old. What made me feel old was the Jube. Fuck that place has changed. Not only that, but it's located right near my alma mater, the University of Alberta, and fuck that place has changed as well. Just walking from the parking lot to the Jube gave me a bit of a trip down memory lane because I used to park behind some of the dorms at Lister when I was still going to school what seems like eons ago. Sigh. Fucking age is catching up with me.

1.) Rush Limbaugh- Wasn't this pervert all for the impeachment of Clinton? I think that thinking about Rush Limbaugh having sex has given me a sexual disfunction.

And Now, The Bad News...

Last night the dream of a Stanley Cup being won by the Edmonton Oilers in 2006 came to an end.

For those of you out there who read my blog and are from the Edmonton area you are more than likely familiar with how the playoff run affected the city. Sure, there were riots and beer shortages and arrests and fights and just general mayhem, but while all this was going on, there was a sort of comradeship that bloomed here. It's really hard to describe. On one hand there was an almost tangible electrity in the air and just about everywhere you went you could just see how excited everybody was, especially these past couple of days.

More than anything else that is what is sad about the Edmonton Oilers cinderella Stanley Cup story coming to an end. Now the little microcosm of Edmonton devolves back into its normal state, people generally alienated from everybody else, loneliness, directionless. It's not that we are a people who are desperate, it's just that we will likely return our respective focuses to the other tasks and interests that consume our time. The playoff run was more of a thread that sewed all of us together, a sort of flag for us to collectively rally around.

And now that flag has been removed.

Even if the Oilers had won the cup the magic would have only been prolonged for a while longer. All magic like that is fleeting.

There is also some sadness I feel for the Oilers. Our city's boys put up a hell of a fight. For those of you not in the know on what was transpiring with the NHL, the Edmonton Oilers were the bottom-seeded team in the Western Conference going into the playoffs, meaning that they were underdogs insofar as the standings were concerned and, as such, we never had a series where we had home ice advantage. However, our team played like contenders throughout. They made believers of not only our city, but the whole hockey world. So yeah, I can be sad for our boys because they got so close. A one goal loss in the seventh game in the Stanley Cup Final is as close as it gets. But because nobody expected them to even get out of the first round, let alone get all the way to the finals, I am proud of what they were able to accomplish. So sadness, yes, but hope and optimism for the future always. Our team will be back. They will kick more ass. They have no reason to be down for too long.

The Civil Service: The Sexiest Line Of Work Around

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Okay, today I have a strange one for you. Somewhere over in England there is an office in Newcastle, the Rural Payments Agency office to be precise, and it is the sexiest office in the world.

To borrow a few words from the linked article here's what's been happening in this sexy little government building:

"The agency said it was investigating claims that staff leapt naked from filing cabinets, had sex in office toilets, held break-dancing competitions during working hours and fought in a reception area."

My first reaction after reading this was Sign me up. I'll move to England, just get me a job in that office because that's where I want to be.

But then I thought about it some more and now I'm not wanting to move to England so much and it has little to do with the British Dental Association's care for its country's citizens or the fact that they speak English over there and yet there are numerous Brits whom I can't understand in the slightest. No, it's none of that.

What is keeping me here in Canada is the fact that this sexy little office is being investigated, most likely to curb any further shenanigans.

And that's what pisses me off about this whole matter.

You want to curb this kind of behavior from your government employees? What the fuck is wrong with you?

I mean seriously. Have you ever had to go to a government office for anything? I'm sure that there are many of you out there who have. What did you think about the experience? It was pretty fucking dull, wasn't it? You go and you sit and then some jerk in a cheap suit and reeking of B.O. takes you to his office where he sips criminally bad coffee and pores over a computer to review whatever file they have on you and it takes forever. Almost literally.

Now, if you had to, say, go to some office where all the workers were parading around naked, having breakdancing competitions, fistfights, and fucking like sex-crazed teenagers, would you find that dull? Do you have a fucking pulse?

I don't know about you, but I only wish the civil servants around here were that cool. Some buxom receptionist just typing away topless and I could gaze longingly at her heaving breasts. Meanwhile, some lowly mailroom clerk is breakdancing and these two other clerks are duking it out Muhammad Ali style. And naked diving off of filing cabinets? Brother, you ain't seen naked dives off of filing cabinets until you've seen these plucky Brits doing it.

That's civil service, fuckers!

If you ask me, they should be investigating that office to see how other offices should be run to make them just as exciting.

Not only that, but if I were the British government I would look into marketing that shit properly. I'd put out a line of DVDs and call it "Civil Servants Gone Wild." How fucking cool would that be? Just 2 hours of naked clerks and office shlubs filling out paperwork and breakdancing.

So, governments of the free world, take note of this sexy little office in Newcastle. If you want to lure people to join the civil service or even if you want to improve the dreary experience of having to go to a government office make like the civil servants in Newcastle and bust a move, bitches.

Incidentally, where I work people have sex in the toilets all the time. We even have this one employee we call Betty Blumpkin, affectionately, I might add. Our breakdancing isn't quite as good, but we do manage to spin and twirl fast enough that our wangs make that slapping sound good and loud. Sounds pretty cool.

That's because I'm not in the civil service.

The Hottest Fashion Accessory For Your Ass Is Now Available

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Renova Black.

That's right, Renova Black.

What's Renova Black, you're wondering?

Well, idiot, Renova Black is quite simply "This season's must-have" according to the New York Times toilet paper critic. But what the fuck is it, you're still wondering.

It's black fucking toilet paper.

That's right, black fucking toilet paper.

All you chump sucka fools using three-ply white are all chump sucka fools because black is where it's at when it comes to toilet paper. This is a technological breakthrough. Finally, the tyranny of white toilet paper has come to an end, ending hundreds of years of apartheid in bathrooms across the world. Finally, the technology that allows us to have black toilet paper has been perfected.

Okay, first of all, why the fuck is this even considered groundbreaking? For years and years we've been able to put all kinds of shit on toilet paper, pun intended. We've had the faces of presidents we desise, names of countries we hate, and even Michael Jackson. Hell, I've even had a roll of toilet paper with pages of Mad Magazine printed on each square. You mean to tell me that with all of this great toilet paper being created we haven't once stopped to think, Hey, wait a second, why not black toilet paper?

But here's what really bothers me. The New York Times. Seriously, how fucking slow does a news day have to be before the New York Times exclaims, "This season's must-have" about black toilet paper. It's fucking toilet paper, morons, wipe your fucking ass with it and call it a day. It doesn't matter if it's white, black, purple, blue, or green, just wad up a fistful of it and start wiping before the diarrhea hardens.

Iraq?

Naw. Too ho-hum.

Our lunatic president?

Naw. Too predictable.

Brangelina?

Naw. It's been done.

Hey wait, I know. Let's get all over that black toilet paper craze that's sweeping the nation! Now that's newsworthy. Bump the impending nuclear armageddon to the lifestyle section and let's get that fucking black toilet paper page 1, front and center. Here's the fucking headline: Newspaper Editor Goes Batshit Crazy.

And, "This season's must-have"? What the fuck is that supposed to be? Does this all mean that next season there's going to be another hot toilet paper? Paper for your ass? Paper to wipe shit off your ass? Who the fuck goes to the toilet paper fashion shows? Who the fuck is a toilet paper designer by trade?