Category Archives: Street Art

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Keep Calm and Recite the Lords of Hockey Prayer

Keep calm and Canuck on

Keep calm and Canuck on

I was walking down the street, minding my own business (for once) when, right at the corner of Richards and Hastings, I saw this. I had to have it. And since I don’t have a camera capable of photographing it well enough to capture all the text, I ripped it off the hydro pole on which it had been pasted, and took it with me to type it all out. So here it all is, laboriously typed out by hand, so I hope you appreciate it.

Thus saith Michael the Captain of the Lords Host,

The year I was born, they joined the Big League, and waited patiently for Me,

They didn’t play for last, no more two line pass, bring on the Holy Spirit Gas

To bring it into submission, you must surrender to a God, and agree on the vision

Good Grief, I love My Beloved Leafs, but Vancouver I desire to give the cup to thee

REVELATION 19 THROUGHT 22; EZEKIEL 9: DANIEL 12

I am Stanley’s Lord, drink from My cup, after the parade we will sit and sup

I AM the Man clothed in linen, with Trevor Linden, saying the Devils ain’t winning

Game 7, a loud trumpet sound, a musical ride gathered around

Oh Canada, don’t you see, New Jerusalem a virgin bride dressed for Me

Hebrews 13: Thessalonians 4:16-17

Skates of Fire, Stars on Ice, entertaining angels is it not nice

In 89, Al MacInnes stood on the line, Patrick Roy ducted every time

Lanny McDonald, I Am the Golden Arch, I began My shout on the 19th of March

Don Cherry, I Am the vine, you Me and Ron the Devils will whine

Matthew 24L Mathew 18:19, Daniel 12:1-4

Davey Crocket and the Richard Rocket, I have a cup, in My pocket,

Bobby Orr he shoots he scores, I AM Michael, I hold the oars

I row row row the boat, I Bless the Humble, and oppose the goat

If you want this gift from Me, get on your knes in My Name Jesus say please

Mark 13; Matthew 24; Luke 21

Uncle Steve and Wayne the future I see, Luongo, will stand on his head for Me

Hey twins call Sundin up, and tell him to come, and sip from My cup

Surroundd by the cops, the crowd weeps, and the tears will drop

The crowd will roar, the Master is home, as Roger packs the Thunder Dome

Revelation 14; 1st Thessalonians 4:16-17; Daniel 12:1-4

Scotties tissues, a tournament of hearst, as I tear her walls all apart

To her shall the Archangel sing, about a Seven Carrot, Diamond Ring

Hey B.C I aAm the Lion, I am Orion, and you are standing on Mount Zion

Before Christ, this is the blan, I long to give you the cup from My hand

Revelation CH 6 through CH 13 understand the silence Aug 26, 2011

The Pacific Rim, the Ring of Fire, all prepared for cowards and liars

A three game sweep, a three game come back, Michael and His Angels lead the attack

The Devil and his angels, all cast down, 7 trumpets and they will gather around

Gates and the Pope I will capture, the rest marked, and headed for disaster

Isaiah 11

Born to be My Baby, she gives love a bad name, The New Jersey Devils concede the game

Little Girl Airheart, I tore her world apart, IAM destined to win right from the start

Across the oceans her claim to fame, she is taking, My New Name in vain

In your hands, I command you to lift her up, Zion’s Daughter must raise My pup

Love OrionMichael Prince “MY NEW NAME” Rev 19:11-16; Rev CH 2 and 3

Email Michael_Prince777 AT yahoo.ca with questions and comments


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Matt Goodbar Strikes Again!

 

Matt Goodbar, alleged parasite, alleged crotch crikit, alleged god damn cock sucker, and palpable graffiti inspiration, needs no introduction to regular readers of the ol’ raincoaster blog. No indeed!

Nor, indeed, does he need an introduction to those who use the washroom at the Waves cafe at Main and Cordova right here in Vangroover. Truly hath the poet said that our words live after us, and the only true route to immortality is through the pen, and Matt Goodbar has been penned up on the wall there for several weeks now.

Matt Goodbar has struck back.

The inscription now reads:

Matt Goodbar is a parasite

and a crotch crikit‘s wet dream

and a god damed cock sucker

Advantage: Goodbar.

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Dear Matt Goodbar

Is assholedom in the eye of the beholder too?

Is assholedom in the eye of the beholder too?

I don’t know who Matt Goodbar is, but everyone who uses the washroom at the Waves cafe knows him. He’s the guy of whom it is written (to be presumably discovered and pored over by archaeologists of the future):

Matt Goodbar is a parasite

and a crotch crikit

and a god damed cock sucker

Which he may well be, or he may not be, but I have but one question: what the hell is a crotch crikit???

And on that note, here are your gossip links for today.

Continue reading →

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Be a Movie Producer!

or look just like one…

Oh god, not ANOTHER one!

Oh god, not ANOTHER one!

No, it’s true: this is a plan to enable you to put “movie producer” on your business card, which will come in handy on a Friday at the clubs, if no-where else. Actually, it will count for something with the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, who will allow any actual credited producer to purchase a ticket to the Academy Awards, better known as the Oscars.

Come to think of it, I’ve got a friend who’s always wanted to go. Hmmmm…

Allow me to introduce With Glowing Hearts, the motion picture:

So far, so awww, right? Yes, it’s an inspirational documentary, perhaps the least likely to be commercially successful genre of film in filmdom. How can you become a producer of this acclaimed-but-so-far-unreleased soon-to-be-classic? Easy; everybody knows there’s one way to become a producer.

You come up with the money.

In this case, you can come up with amounts as small as a Toonie:

Making a film costs money, and although we’ve done a great job at keeping our costs down there are certain expenses which are unavoidable. That’s why from now, until the middle of August, we’re running our Toonie and Tweet Torch Relay to help get us to the finish line and to get your name in the credits.  Starting with a minimum contribution of $2, “producers” can have their name published in a word cloud that will appear in the film’s credit roll and on this site. Increasing your contribution will increase the size of your name in the cloud.

All money collected will go directly towards costs related to finishing and distributing the film like insurance, music rights, and salaries for the great people who have been working on the film with us.  Just click on the Chip-In widget to the right and follow the instructions to use either your PayPal account or credit card, note that transactions are conducted in US dollars but will be converted to your local currency on your bill.  The name that is associated with your PayPal account is the same that will be used for the credits, if you would like a different name to appear in the credits please indicate that under “special instructions for vendor” on the “Review your payment” page.

Sure, it says mid-August, but if you ask nicely you’ll probably find there’s always room for more money (though perhaps it will need more zeros after the 2). Go on, haven’t you always wanted to be a Hollywood big shot? I hear Clooney is breaking up with his latest bimbette, so if you’re a brunette and you can get him good and drunk at the Vanity Fair afterparty, you’ve probably got a shot.

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Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, Jesus and Shane McGowan

Happy Birthday Jesus from Camden Town

Yes, they have the same birthday; it just seems so right, once you know it, doesn’t it?

And I was thinking of them both today, when I went out in this podunk town for a two-hour walk and, of all the people I passed, including the church group that was loudly praying to the empty downtown sidewalks, not one said, “Merry Christmas.”

Not one.

Now, I may live in a pretty ratfuck part of the big city, but we always hear that small towns are frendlier. It’s a certain fact I couldn’t walk around the Downtown Eastside for two hours without hearing Merry Christmas repeatedly, and sometimes even from sober persons. Whichever PR firm small towns are hiring to spread this myth around, they’ve earned their money, cuz not one word of that claim is true. Hell, the only one who even looked me in the eye was the chocolate lab whose owner yanked him roughly away because for a second I looked like I might pet the doggy. Oh, perish the thought.

So, the following pair of videos and the following classic Christmas story (which I post every year, and you should read every time I post it, you’ll thank me) go out to those three men I saw sitting on the bar stools at the pub, staring into space with one carefully calibrated empty seat between each of them, presumably for Clarence. Or Harvey.

Happy Birthday, Jesus:

Happy Birthday, Shane:

And Merry Christmas, Everyone!

This is simply the finest, most moving and remarkable Christmas story I have ever encountered, and I have, as I happened to have remarked recently, well over two dozen books of Christmas stories. Moving as it does from England to Saudi Arabia to the far eastern tip of Russia, it qualifies as multiculti, too! It is a unique jewel by an author who emerged from nowhere, left this small masterpiece for us, and vanished again into a swirling blizzard of obscurity. I’ll post it using the MORE tag, so that if you enjoy it you can read the rest. If you don’t enjoy it, I suggest you seek medical assistance promptly, for your brain matter must be leaking out your ears or something. Merry Christmas!

A Christmas Story
By Sarban (John W. Wall)

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