This ought to be a TV commercial.

I was sitting at the bar of the Celtic Hearth on Water Street in St. John’s, Newfoundland watching the game when a retired couple came in and sat beside me. The gentleman asked for a Guinness and was shocked to hear they didn’t have it, but rather Kilkenny.

Surprising that they didn’t, but moreso that they usually do but were somehow out, and most surprising that this wasn’t the first bar on the strip he’d asked after a Guinness, only to be denied. He turned to me and asked could I believe it? His people had settled the damn place and they didn’t have Guinness?

Where are you from? I asked. Originally Ireland but lately Sudbury. We talked a bit about the footie and then he left, off on his appallingly quixotic search for Guinness in a city more Irish than Ireland.

Advertisements

Can you fucking handle this truck?

You say you’re in the market for a truck, and they don’t make a better one than the Ford F-150.

It’s made from military grade aluminum, the strength of which is increased by heat-treating after it is formed.

Which begs the question, are you man enough for military grade aluminum? Or are you just a pussy?

Because at Ford, we want to make money, and we want to sell trucks, but we don’t want to sell them to just anybody.

Are you looking for a truck to drive to work, pick up the kids, or even do some heavy carrying? Or are you looking for a truck that you could ride into war, if you really needed to?

If it’s the latter, well maybe we’d consider taking your money. If it’s the former, don’t even fucking look at a Ford F-150, you piece of shit.

Goddamnit, it’s military grade, do you fucking get it? This is a truck for heroes. It’s for patriots.

It’s for goddamn Americans.

Upgrade security and access at schools to the level of government buildings and police stations

Monitor the social media of all students

Arm teachers and/or surround schools with retired soldiers with guns (or even just random “good guys with guns”)

Send President Trump in alone to take care of things

Arm students

Thoughts and prayers

Buckets of rocks by classroom doors to throw at shooters

Hope that a teacher or another student throws themselves in front of the bullets

Raise the age to purchase rifles to 21

 

*according to people who don’t really want to do anything that will actually change things or save lives

Blind man on the Danforth

with giant white cat

does he need help?

No, he’s doing fine

knows where he’s going

unlike me, for example.

I’m going to come right out and say it, NDP–I’m worried about you.

It’s been at least four hours since I received an email or phone call from you asking for support.

Have your forgotten that we have an election battle coming up? This is a critical time, and every dollar helps!

I know you’re at a disadvantage to the Liberals and Doug Ford’s Progressive Conservatives. I’m not saying I can offer any more than I already do, but shouldn’t you continue to ask me, three to four times a day?

I assume Andrea Howarth is traveling all over the province with the good news of the NDP Dental Care Plan, giving hope to middle class Ontarians who haven’t had a lot to smile about after 15 years of Liberal mismanagement. But how can I know for sure, when I’ve been sitting at home all afternoon with not one update on her pre-campaign campaign?

C’mon NDP–I don’t have to hear from you every hour, but I just wanna know you’re there… for me.

Since Doug Ford decided to run for the leadership of the PC Party on January 29th, I’ve received at least one email from him or his supporters every day, even though the only reason I’m on his mailing list is that years ago I signed a petition to support the Toronto Public Library that was sent to his brother, then-Mayor Rob Ford. But Rob never cared that I wasn’t a supporter, so why should Doug? On Day 12 there’s an inkling that I might not be on his side, in the form of an email entitled “You are not a member”… but the emails have kept coming anyway, even though I never have nor never will be a PC Party member.

Doug’s emails might be written by Scribbler and Devoted Follower Joe Warmington, since they mirror his style of short, simple sentences, each of which is its own paragraph. In honour of whoever is behind Doug’s outreach, I’ve compiled the titles of all of the emails in order, which gives a sense of what any of the individual emails looks like. I call it the poetry of desperation.

It all ends with the most recent email (although I’m sure, not the last), one that I wholeheartedly agree with: “It’s time to stop.”

Doug Ford, please heed your own advice: it’s time to stop. Stop sending me emails, stop trying to be leader of the PC Party, and above all stop trying to outdo your father and your brother who, for all of their faults, were better people than you could ever hope to be, you unblinking, soulless narcissist.

 

DOUG FORD ENTERS RACE FOR LEADER OF THE ONTARIO PROGRESSIVE CONSERVATIVE PARTY

Join us for a Rally for a Stronger Ontario!

I need your help

I need your help

The hard truth

This is nuts

The plan

It’s about winning

Six days

Education

Let’s get it right

You are not a member

Support Doug at the debate!

Welfare for politicians

Broken government

RE: I agree with Doug

Tax tax tax!

Deadline today

Grassroots vs. the media

Tough times

We haven’t won yet

A small deficit?

Tiny little deficit!

Listening to the grassroots

Fighting for our members

It’s time to stop

Charlie Adam

Charlie’s a good bloke, I’m sure, and to be fair I’m not sure if he’s actually ugly, so much as homely. But it’s a face only a Stoke City supporter could love.

 

 

 

Jesse Lingard

Lingard is a fine footballer, and having a heck of a season, but man are those features harsh! It’s like he’s trying to suck his face in through his nose. When he double dates with Anthony Martial Jesse’s definitely described as “funny, such a great personality!”

 

Marouane Fellaini

This is actually a fairly flattering photo of the Manchester United and Belgium goon, since the bandage around his head hides his giant caterpillar eyebrows, and kinda makes him look like a young John McEnroe.

 

Adorable BB-8!

BB-8’s mom

BB-8 was certainly a highlight of The Force Awakens. But what are the origins of this adorable addition to the cast, and why does he seem to have such an affinity for R2-D2? Well, The Last Jedi will reveal that Artoo is BB-8’s father, having had droid sex with a beachball.

There was a lot of controversy when Finn was revealed as a discouraging amount of fans found it hard to accept a Black Stormtrooper. Of course, no one worried too much about how it was that, if they were all clones of Django Fett, none of them had New Zealand accents. It’s clear that Finn isn’t a clone, but then where did he come from? The truth will finally be revealed: Finn’s father is none other than Lando Calrissian, and his mother a fine-ass lady Stormtrooper with a taste for Colt 45 and Bespin gas.

And what about the mysterious Rey? Two words: midichlorians, baby! They’re back, and out to prove that Anakin’s virgin birth was no fluke. The midichlorians don’t like the way the galaxy is headed–not one bit–and decided to get back into the game, big time! But what will happen when off-the-charts-midichlorian Rey meets grandson-of-midichlorian-baby Kylo Ren? SPARKS.

Poe Dameron was a pretty cool character, and we all hope to get to know him a little better in The Last Jedi. Where did he get those sick piloting skills, as well as his steely resolve and dedication to the Rebel cause? Well, it seems like a certain Wedge Antilles hooked up with none other than Mon Mothma before the attack on the original Death Star. Neither were sure they’d survive and we all know how passion can come out in moments of existential uncertainty. The result, nine months later, was Poe, and he has carried on the fight, making dad and mon proud.

 

Where are we as a nation that used to be proud of its beer heritage when by far the biggest displays in the Beer Store (don’t even get me started on the loss of that quirky and humble name, Brewer’s Retail) are Budweiser and Coors Light? Admittedly, Canadian and Blue aren’t good beers, but at least they’re ours. But not only have they been pushed to the margins of the store shelves, they lag in sales and aren’t even entirely Canadian-owned anymore. It makes me sad to walk into the Beer Store; Canadians used to boast that our beer was stronger (“why is American beer like having sex in a canoe? Because it’s fucking close to water”)–if not better–than American brews, but now our southern neighbours have colonized our alcohol consumption like they long ago did our movie theatres and fast food chains. Why, they’ve even got rid of the wall of beer, which we would stare at and often find some unusual brand that we’d think of trying before going for the safe but almost-adventurous 50 or Carling, in favour of a touch-screen menu.

Wake up, Ontario! You’ve lost your beer heritage and are in danger of losing your very identity!

Fuck you Mourinho

and your negative football

(even though it won us

three championships and we’re

forever grateful–KTBFFH)

and fuck you Fellaini,

the dirtiest player I’ve ever seen

and the ugliest, too

(Peter Crouch could pull birds

better than you, and he’d be a virgin

if he wasn’t a football star–

he admits it himself)

But it’s three points to the angels

and nil to the red devils,

all is right in the world

for one more week

at least.

Twitter Updates

Blog Stats

  • 85,228 hits

Pages

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 99 other followers

Advertisements