We all celebrate in our own unique ways. Some of my friends to it by firing off fireworks, eating BBQ, and drinking pisswater. My family does it by making sure the cannons at Windsor are still pointed across the river. I do it by posting anti-Bush videos from YouTube.
Category Archives: Culture
My Neighborhood, for real
So, as you might already know by my blog irregularity, I am experiencing a power crisis. I am without electricity. In Canada, we call this “anhydrous” but you might call it any number of things, including inconvenient.
But among other things, it means that I only have electricity between midnight and five in the morning, when I can safely run a power cord to the outlet down the hall without anyone ratting me out to the building manager.
However.
There are those who could bust me. In my hallway, there is a youthful Chinese girl who is carrying on an affair with a man on one of the upper floors, but who doesn’t dare let her father, with whom she lives, know. So, every night about twelve-thirty, I hear her door open and the elevator going up. About three, it comes back down and she goes back to her room.
She’s not about to rat me out for using the power. It’s mutually assured destruction.
When I go out to unplug the apparatus, sometimes I see some unusual things.
It’s four-thirty in the morning. It’s the Downtown Eastside. Of COURSE I see some unusual things.
But among them I do not expect to see an actual scimitar. Apparently, instead of the tai chi ladies who practiced there last year, each dawn is welcomed by an actual, fucking, practicing fucking, samurai.
He’s out on the patio, practicing his moves. I am well aware it should be a katana instead of a scimitar, but what can I say, the man is versatile.
And armed.
Oh, who are the people in my neighborhood. In my neighborhood. In my neigh-bor-hood? Oh, who are the people in my neighborhood. The people that you meet each day?
The samurai has a big sword
Don’t mess with him or you’ll get gored.
He practices each day at dawn
Could skewer you just like a prawn.
‘Cause the Samurai’s a person in my neighborhood.
In my neighborhood.
He’s in my neigh-bor-hood!
A Samurai’s a person in my neighborhood.
A person that I meet each day.
Oh, trysting kids are scaredycats.
Their dad might find out, don’cha kno?
They sneak around, it takes real gumption
They can’t expose me: M. A. Destruction.
Oh, a Samurai’s a person in my neighborhood.
In my neighborhood.
In my neighbrhood.
And the trysting kid’s a person in my neighborhood.
They’re the people that I meet
When I’m walking down the street
They’re the people that I meet each day and, by silent mutual agreement, do not appear to recognize.
The Golden Telephone
An American decided to write a book about famous churches around the world.
So he bought a plane ticket and took a trip to Orlando, thinking that he would start by working his way across the USA from South to North.
On his first day he was inside a church taking photographs when he noticed a golden telephone mounted on the wall with a sign that read “$10,000 per call”.
The American, being intrigued, asked a priest who was strolling by what the telephone was used for.
The priest replied that it was a direct line to heaven and that for $10,000 you could talk to God.
The American thanked the priest and went along his way.
Next stop was in Atlanta. There, at a very large cathedral, he saw the same golden telephone with the same sign under it.
He wondered if this was the same kind of telephone he saw in Orlando and he asked a nearby nun what its purpose was.
She told him that it was a direct line to heaven and that for $10,000 he could talk to God.
“O.K., thank you,” said the American.
He then traveled to Indianapolis, Washington DC, Philadelphia, Boston and New York.
In every church he saw the same golden telephone with the same “$10,000 per call” sign under it.
The American, upon leaving Vermont decided to travel to up to Canada to see if Canadians had the same phone.
He arrived in Canada, and again, in the first church he entered,
there was the same golden telephone, but this time the sign under it read “40 cents per call.”
The American was surprised so he asked the priest about the sign.
“Father, I’ve traveled all over America and I’ve seen this same golden telephone in many churches. I’m told that it is a direct line to Heaven, but in the US the price was $10,000 per call.
Why is it so cheap here?”
The priest smiled and answered, “You’re in Canada now, son – it’s a local call”.
Mentos and Diet Coke 2.0
Well after all that, Revver allows embedding. Too bad WordPress doesn’t allow it, or I’d post the “approved by producers” version here. All I can do instead is link to it on Raj’s blog here.
For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s a video by two mad scientist types (one is allegedly a mad lawyer/scientist!) of a frolicing fiesta of fountains of diet coke and mentos.
Enjoy. And if you figure out how to embed it in a wordpress blog, let me know.
gherkin of terror!
I resisted posting this for a couple of days…a couple of days too long. In future I resolve never to hesistate posting something just because it’s:
A) stupid
B) probably fake
C) really, really stupid.
Honestly, if she thought her life was ruined by her fear of pickles, just wait till she finds out what life is like as THE world-famous pickle pussy.
raincoaster 