Category Archives: Canada

Hacked. Someone soon to be whacked.

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Fine, hack my site. Change my immortal prose; anything you could do would be inferior. It wouldn't bother me, and might be good for a laugh.

But do not take the post below this and change "Stephen Harper" into "Paul Martin" while I am out at dinner.

Not if you value the only testicle you possess.

I will take my born-and-raised-on-military-bases fist and I will put my father's medals in it and I will go proctological and evisceratory on your sad, sorry and pox-ridden ass.

And I will hunt you down and post your name, address, phone number, tween-baiting Myspace site, LavaLife profile, and dick size to this website (it can measure down to electron microscope levels), and then I will go down to the police station and I will hook this up to the cyberstalker of several years ago, and they will hunt you down and they will spay and neuter what's left of you once I'm done, and we will ship it to your mother in eight separate Tupperware containers.

In the meantime, sodium fluoroacetate solution brings weight loss & penis growth. Try it!!

Save me some time, Loserboy.

FYI:

CIA Surrender Manual. Think About It. You'll Love PMITA Prison

Coffin for one, Prime Minister?

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Bay doors open 

As part of his ongoing mission to pretend the bad stuff isn't happening, Stephen Harper has banned the media from filming the coffins of fallen Canadian soldiers or, indeed, being anywhere near them.

From the CBC, although Metro called it first, and with perfect accuracy, on this very website several days ago. Please note that these pictures are several years old, from the Canadian deaths in Afghanistan resulting from the American bombing.

Reporters were not allowed into the military airbase at Trenton, Ont., to cover the Tuesday evening arrival of the remains of four soldiers who died in a weekend bombing.

Coffins

Harper said the policy has been implemented to respect the privacy of the families.

*

"It should be up to the families to decide whether they want reporters present at such ceremonies," said Richard Leger, whose son Marc was killed in Afghanistan four years ago.

"I know, in 2002, it was a great thing for us to have the media there… We wanted to show all Canadians what the cost of their liberty is," he told CBC Newsworld.

"People saying, 'Thank you for the life of Marc' – as a parent that's hard to hear, but knowing what's the reason behind it helps us to move on."

Coffins being carried

Maureen Burrowes, who is a cousin of Payne, said the government is depriving her of her chance to be part of Tuesday night's ceremony.

"I honestly believed I would see my cousin's return on CBC as I could not be present today," she wrote in an e-mail. "I really feel that our current government has made a very bad decision and voters will remember this in the next election."

"The timing is absolutely horrendous and I would love to know how to get this reversed."

Coffin with final honours

True North, East Van

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A couple of pictures to put me in context for ya. I walk by both of these places every day, and can even tell you that the second pic, while labelled "Chinatown" in Wikipedia, is in fact on the Downtown EastSide, a block from Pigeon Park.

You know you're in Canada when:

Muskox Burgers. Arctic Muskox, not like that crappy sub-tropical muskox

Yeah, insist on Organic Wild Arctic muskox for your burger. Don't settle for that crappy, Ritalin-dependant, domesticated sub-tropical muskox.

And now for Carrall Street, the. worst. part. of. town.:

Carrall Street

Yeah, even our shitholes are purty.

The Fine Prints

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The Best Things in life are punishable by five to fifteen"Step behind that gate and they'll come for you."

Not exactly the words you want to hear when you've just asked the nice clerk to run a criminal records check on you. Let's back up a bit.

I wondered why Brad's calves were bright pink. Standing in a bureaucratic lineup, you have a lot of time to study the feet and legs of the people in front of you. Then, because you are Canadian, you skip a bit and then you can study them again from about the bottom of the shoulder blade to the top of the head. And because this is not merely Canada but Vancouver, the feet of the person in front of you are invariably in white sneakers which feature more advanced technology than the computer we used to send astronauts to the moon. Then white tube socks, with or without racing stripe at the top. Then, because it is, as I said, Vancouver, you have calves; except for me and a couple of holdout bank presidents, Vancouver does not do pants. If it's a man, the calves will be hairy and poking out of manpris or chino shorts; if it's a straight woman, the calves will be waxed and poking out of capri jeans or aforementioned chino shorts; if it's a lesbian, the calves will be hairy and poking out of 14-ounce black denim cargo shorts and will feature a dragon tat. Also, they'll be disappearing into Docs.

And Brad's were coming out of white shoes and white socks, and disappearing into said manpris, but in the middle part, the hairy part, the fleshy part, they were the colour of underripe strawberries.

Which was odd.

But then, I thought, people have all kinds of allergies in the Springtime. Or skin conditions. Or maybe he has congestive heart failure, besides being about twenty years and fifty pounds away from such a thing.

But then I looked at his arms.

Same thing. Pink like nicely-done shrimp.

Back of the neck, shaven head, right up to the part where it disappeared into the (also mandatory in Vancouver) ballcap. Pink like a thirteen-year-old's first corsage. Not the image he was going for, I imagine, when he decided to come down to the Vancouver Police Department and run a CPIC on himself.

He'd filled out the paperwork and checked it twice, just like Santa. And he'd trundled on the bus with the rest of us from The Program (aforementioned, although largely unmentionable) and stood in the Insufferable Lineup of Boredom Except When Excitable Japanese Crankheads Come In to get the paperwork run.

And now, this.

Somehow, although he was blushing crimson in parts by now, he managed to give an impression of blood-drained faintness as he shuffled over to aforesaid gate, it at least not bearing any slogans in Latin. That would have been too much, I think. Not that cops can read Latin. Or, in some cases, much at all.

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Republican Jesus Speaks

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And he sounds just like Oprah! Stolen from Jesus' General, a site whose comments section kicks the heathen ass of virtually every other comments section in the blogosphere, and I can prove it. And the General, like all right-thinking men, loves Trailer Park Boys. If I find out he's actually George Stephanopoulous, I may have to get out the Acme Stalker Kit. Kidding! I never put it away!

Republican Jesus

Proof that the General's troops are channelling divine wisdom:

Max Shrubby

Deciderata

Don’t go placidly; create noise and haste,
And remember, what? Peace there may be in leaks.
As far as possible never surrender and
Be on bad terms with all persons.
Speak your lies quietly and clearly to Novak;
And don’t listen to others,
Even though you are dull and ignorant;
You too have a story but have suppressed it or you’d be in prison.
Hang out with loud and aggressive persons; they are vexations to the dems. Compare yourself with others, you vain and bitter chimp; for always there will be greater persons than yourself. You haven’t achieved crap with your plans.
Stay bored in your own career, try not to stumble; in your case it is not a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Abandon caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery, anyway, so why worry ‘cause the debt will be $10 trillion before you plow this country into the ground. You are blinded to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals which you ignore; and everywhere life is full of heroism because of your bad, false decisions.
You can’t be yourself. You used to get away with feigning affection. You are cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass you used to smoke.
Ignore the advice of intelligent generals; ride your bike and listen to your ipod – bike around the world while you’re at it. You act like a baby in sudden misfortune. Distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond an unwholesome discipline, go rough on yourself ‘cause you deserve it.
You are a C student of the university, MBAs know less than the trees and the TV stars; you don’t have a right to be here, but somehow you swam out of your dad’s ball sack. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should and Fitz is going to take the rest of your staff for a little ride to Algoa or similar prison for the rubber glove cavity search.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Her to be, and whatever your labors and assolation, in the noisy confusion of life keep a piece within reach.
With all the sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, you have projected on this country; it will be a beautiful world once you are out of office. Cheerful? You’re the lamest lame duck. Quack!
Major McBug