Category Archives: Humour

tag and release

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Never forget! 

Tag, anyway. Release? I dunno: I get off on blogging, but how was it for you?

Despite my noted antipathy towards chain letters, meme-tagging, and all associated nonsense, both the esteemed Juvenal and the self-esteemed Stilletto Girl have tagged me as being a Thogger.

The participation rules are simple:

1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think,
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme,
3. Optional: Proudly display the ‘Thinking Blogger Award’ with a link to the post that you wrote (here is an alternative silver version if gold doesn’t fit your blog).

This is better than it sounds, and really quite brave of them, all things considered.

So I’m a blog that makes you think, eh? Probably one that makes you think Canadians are a group of degenerate, tentacled, squid-souled anarchists, and quite right you are (note that all Canadians who do not fit that description are, in fact, Albertans). I am flattered nonetheless.

Release: In the spirit of Anarchy, I’m passing this tag along to anyone who wants to volunteer for it. I have a rare, refined, and reflective group of readers and feel confident that anyone who would step up for this is both ballsy and thought-provoking.

Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

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if Canada ruled the world

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If Canada ruled the world

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my secret love, my secret shame

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The chartIf this gets out, I’ll never be able to show my avatar around the British Empire again.

I have a secret crush, a secret shame. A secret so horrifying, so soul-shrinking, that even one as shameless as me can barely put it into pixels.

I have a crush on…no, I can’t say it.

It’s not his beliefs, should rarefied science ever detect any. It’s not his thoughts, which seem to be quite clever, if misguided and destructive. It’s not his actions, for which the record speaks for itself.

And god knows it’s not for his unearthly beauty.

I’m off to self-medicate with nonfiction and Mount Gay Rum. Wish me luck.

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worst date ever

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from the Archive. This won me a nice little book prize from Two Dollar Radio, which is frankly the only glory this Vancouverite has ever gotten out of the Manhattan literary establishment, aside from the glories of Gawker commenter status.

Bad dateI should have known it was going to be a long night when he asked me if I minded going out “after rush hour, when the bus fare goes down.”

He was tall. He was handsome. He was fit. He was educated, intelligent, in law school.

He was in love with Rebecca.

How do I know this? He told me. At length.

In the restaurant, he insisted on ordering a particular dessert wine with the main course. Bewildered, I wondered if it was some new foodie fad. No, he said, it was because it was called “Sweet Rebecca,” and that was his ex-girlfriend’s name.

She dropped him. She was cruel, and sweet, and had hair like golden silk, or so I was informed. When not explaining how perfect she had been, he spent many a long, silent moment staring into the glass and murmuring “Sweet Rebecca.”

At one point he pulled out a ten-dollar bill and showed me the family resemblance to John A. MacDonald, to which I could only reply, “Yes, one of Canada’s truly great alcoholics.” It was a little too late to impress me by then. And he’d drunk most of the wine, although I could have used a Martini or four, myself.

On the way home, he borrowed bus fare; I never intended to see him again, however decorative he may have been, but at a dollar seventy-five to get rid of him it was a steal. On the long, no, endless ride home, he had one more golden memory for me. Halfway home, he slowly removed his ski gloves and proceeded, methodically, to pick his nose.

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Viggo Mortensen vs Evil Elf

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Well, perhaps not “vs” per se. He was too startled to put up much of a fight.

From the Archive and North Country Public Radio‘s website, and more or less another lifetime. Pictures and nicer formatting will have to wait till tomorrow, but will be provided. Sorry, no Speedo shot. Warning: I believe this one tops out at 23,000 words. Get yourself a drink. While you’re up, get me one too.

Viggo and me

February 27, 2003: Tripping

Viggo Mortensen, the actor best known for his role as Aragorn in the Lord of the Rings movies, returned to his native North Country to open an exhibition of photographs and read poetry at his alma mater, St. Lawrence University in Canton, New York. As soon as the trip was announced, fans of Viggo (and all things middle-earthly) began to plan an invasion. The following account was written by a fan from Vancouver known as Evil Elf.

———————————————————–
There are so many reasons this trip is impossible. So many GOOD reasons. It IS impossible. But of course that has no bearing on the situation whatsoever; we are dealing with Americans here.

So here I am in the Vancouver International Airport, on my way. Clearly, however impossible the trip is, it is more impossible NOT to go. It is certainly impossible to change the mind of a Connecticutite once it is made up, that I know for sure.

It’s all Ara‘s fault. Ara short for Aragrothien. Ara, like me, is a Viggofan. Should I back up a bit? No, why should you be any less confused than me, eh? So Ara, who lives in Connecticut, got talking to some of the other Viggo Mortensen fans on the fanbase, www.viggofanbase.com/modules/news, and she, dragonlady, gubydal, pandora, you know, that lot, well they are on their way right now to Canton, New York to see Viggo. He’s doing a big booksigning and art show and suchlike at his old alma mater, Saint Lawrence University. And these ladies decided amongst themselves and for God knows what reason that their trip would not be complete without the presence of Evil Elf herself.

That would be me.

Now ordinarily it’s just not to hard to get me out to meet a man who paints, writes, takes photographs, and acts well; it is even easier when he is tall, blond, blue-eyed, handsome and single.

Gotta dash, more later!

Evil Elf, Vancouver BC
President and CEO
Evil Geniuses for a Better Tomorrow!
Evil Elf the One and Only
The Nubby Kanuck
Viggo’s Athletic Supporter

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