By now, all our loyal readers should be familiar with the concept of the Unicorn Chaser. And, after the last 48 hours, I dunno about you, but I could sure use one. Here, therefore and thereunto and tho on, is a unicorn chaser composed of synchronized, dancing Burmese kittens. Or maybe Himilayan kittens. I dunno, I’m sure some undersocialized Metafilterite will be along shortly with the correct answer.
Easily the most hotly-anticipated film of 2009, and potentially the most explosive spy thriller of all time, the tsunami of testosterone which is Quantum of Dynamite is the tentpole holding up the hopes of an entire industry. If it succeeds, it will take entertainment itself to a new level. If it fails, all of the major studios, who collectively have invested over three hundred quintillionbillion dollars in the extravagant production, will be sold to roving gangs of Uzbek pawnbrokers, to be broken up and sold for scrap in the bazaars of the former Silk Road breakaway republics (Sharmuzistan, Szatinia, Kraypistan, and Georgette).
We at the ol’ raincoaster blog have obtained a worldwide exclusive, procured at great personal cost (I know it was only one child, but everyone loves their eldest, don’t they?) an exclusive print of the fabled trailer for this monumental motion picture. Pour yourself a chocolate milk, shaken, not stirred, and settle down to watch the film that is to change the entertainment industry forever:
Yes, it’s blog filler. No, we’re not proud. You should know that by now.
We ARE, however, self-promotional, so this is the perfect time to remind you all that the Crime Pays party on Monday will feature an auction of Vangroover‘s finest hotties of all sexes, plus a poetry brothel! Come on, bid! When was the last time you had a chance to win a date with a legendary (well, actually fictional) character among others? Eh? Answer me that!
You Are Wine |
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The longer people spend time with you, the more drawn in they become. You believe that seduction shouldn’t be rushed, you like to savor every moment. Going too fast kills the excitement. You like to indulge all of your senses. |
Cross–posted from the Shebeen Club
Who: The Federation of BC Writers and the Shebeen Club
What: a wicked good fundraiser for the Fed
When: Monday, March 16th, 6-9pm
Where: The Vancouver Police Museum, 240 East Cordova Street, Vancouver
Why: it would be criminal to miss this party!
Wanted: YOU!
Come help the Fed celebrate 32 years of getting away with murder. Whether infiltrating schools, divvying up swag, or distributing subversive publications, the Federation of BC Writers has been operating unchecked in our province for decades.
Do you enjoy the vicarious thrill of rubbing shoulder pads with the Lost Literati of the Wild West, surrounded by instruments of murder and mayhem in the cosy confines of the police museum? Do you have what it takes to make your bones as a Fed member? There’s only one way to find out! Come out to the party and make us an offer we can’t refuse.
Admission: $20 minimum donation includes a drink and appetizers. Click here to register. If you won’t be attending, but would like to support the Fed, you can click the Paypal button in the sidebar to make an online donation in the amount of your choice.
Dress code: Trenchcoat and fedora, deerstalker and cape, jailhouse stripes, uniforms, Bond Villain suits or femme fatale slinkwear all optional but encouraged. Attitude absolutely mandatory.
This arresting experience will feature Western Canada’s first Poetry Brothel (five bucks buys a love poem read to you by a sexy stunner) as well as a Guys and Dolls date auction, so bring your chequebook! Our lineup of lads and lovelies will show the winning bidders the times of their lives, thanks to generous sponsorship from premier local entertainments.
Raffle prize donations, bribes, and sponsorship applications very welcome: please email lorraine.murphy at Gmail dot com. Anything related to crime or the theme of noir is particularly welcome, eg detective books, Martini glasses, etc, or anything black or white.
The Crime Pays fundraiser will be our Shebeen Club meeting for the month of March, so I hope to see everyone there, dressed fabulously and behaving infamously!
So, the other night I was, as I am not infrequently, at the bar of the Irish Heather, spending, as I do not infrequently, too damn much money for somebody who blogs for a living, and I met, as I not infrequently do, an Irishman.
I mean, where else would you? Right? Amiright?
And his Zimbabwean sidekick, Julius I’m Not Kidding You although he may have been telling a stretcher Caesar. Julius Caesar.
I never did catch the Irishman’s name, either because it was so exotic or because I have a cold and my ears were stuffed up with Strongbow I mean earwax now where was I?
Right. At the bar of the Irish Heather, talking about luck with a lanky, nameless Irishman and a black guy from Zimbabwe called Julius Caesar. They’d just gotten back from the Yukon, where they were checking out the dogsled race and NO I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP the one that goes all the way to Alaska, and thereupon I told them my story about the American Minutemen guarding the border and the time one of them shot himself in the foot and Canada refused to let him in, as he did not have proper identification documents and they must have laughed and laughed at Canadian Border Guard Union Headquarters over that one, oh yes.
And then the Irishman told me the secret of winning bar bets, which he then proceeded to prove by winning two toonies from me. But he bought me a Strongbow, so I figure I came out four bucks ahead when you figure tax into it which in Canada you always do, on general principles and yes, even in bar bets.
And this is the secret:
Get the other person to make a bet, and bet against him.
You’re welcome.
raincoaster 