Thursday, March 17, 2011
I need to keep this short because the whole point of this is the link at the bottom of the page.
It's a "fuck you" song. They didn't write it that way. They just wrote it.
Click the link below and click on "Secret March".
It's the new "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious".
If you're being bullied at school, stand your ground, look the bastard in the eye and say, "You put your left foot forward; your right foot forward; put your left foot forward again."
If your boss touches you the wrong way, stand your ground, look the bastard in the eye and say, "You put your left foot forward; your right foot forward; put your left foot forward again."
I never saw Hendrix burn a guitar, nor did I ever see Pete Townsend destroy anything... But one night at the Biltmore, I saw The Wet Secrets play... Halfway through "Secret March" I leaned over to Grant Lawrence and said, "This might just be the best band I have ever seen." Tonight, walking home, the song popped on my iPod. No fear. No fucking fear.
Click the link below and go to their MySpace page.
Click on "Secret March".
Listen, learn, love. I can promise you, with this song playing in your mind, no one will ever wrong you ever ever again.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
If Charlie calls, I'll take it in my office.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
I like pretty things. I like the "female of the species". The other night, my fave, big-eyed DJ played a song for me. With a smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eye, she dropped the needle on "Dirty Old Man", as performed by Thee Headcoatees. I'd mentioned I'd met Billy Childish and she instantly knew what song she had to play. She said she was joking, and she was, but she knew the target well.
She wouldn't expect me to apologize. And you know what? The likelihood of me apologizing for chasing younger skirt is slim. Slimmer than them.
During my "post what-the-fuck-happened-at-The-Biltmore" interview at VGH with BC's top stroke man (children, please), I actually told him that I'd waited this long to be a Dirty Old Man, I don't want to ruin it now.
As it stands, I'm not a dirty "old" man; I'm a dirty "older" man. I am also a manchild, an aging would-be rock star, and I love beautiful things.
I am also not so shallow to see women as merely sexual objects and I am no predator. But I guess that is for you to decide.
I have been accused of many things, and misogyny is among them, but let me remind you that assuming that what I do and how I feel is based solely on what hangs between my legs is sexism, by strict definition.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
From the Giorgio Armani Spring 2011 (La Femme Bleue)
And the Emporio Armani Spring 2011 line HERE
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Anyway, she made this and I want it.
She made this and sent me a copy.
I lost my copy THAT VERY DAY. She doesn't send me things anymore. Even a copy of this (which I BEGGED FOR):
Someone even left this outside my door one night:
But I want a slutty sock zombie. So I made this blog. I needed to link back to her Blog and take a picture of bread. You really should check out her blog; it is ten flavours of pure awesome. And now, ladies and gentlemen, bread.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
It's not a shoe fetish. It really isn't. I like boobs and bums and lips and eyes and don't want to drink our urine out of your size 8's, but when you see something like these (below) how can you not accept shoes as [sometimes] being art for your feet?
Monday, January 3, 2011
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
My Bibles (I own four) share shelf space with The Koran, The Autobiography of Malcolm X, The “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” Companion Book, and “How To Catch Trout” (plus another 800 or so titles I won’t bother to list here).
Mary: Hi there.
Mary: I'm a virgin.
Joseph: Really? You're um... pregnant.
Mary: Yeah, I know. It's God's. I've been calling him but...
Joseph: So, you want to get married?
The 25th was co-opted by Popes to steal the thunder of Saturnalia festivities that dated back to Ancient Rome. Other possible explanations for December include the belief that because He was the son of God, He had to have been conceived on the Spring Equinox. What, if any, logic is behind this, I don't know. Let's not forget people also thoughts their gods were serial rapists. It is also because of Saturnalia and other “pagan” fertility rites that we have Christmas dinner, Christmas trees, Christmas presents, Yule logs, and mistletoe... and "mummers". WTF?
This pic has nothing to do with Christmas but I saw it on INSURGENCY INC. the other day and just had to repost it.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
PART I: Tox
4pm - Vancouver vs. Toronto, The Squarerigger Pub, West Vancouver.
Five pints, two glasses of Sleemans Original Draught and I march off to catch the 6:40 bus downtown.
The bus was crowded but not unpleasantly so and I got off at Burrard and Georgia. This was odd. I usually get off and Granville but just decided not to last night. It has no bearing on what happened later in the night but still weird.
When I'm going to The Biltmore, I usually take the Skytrain to Main and Terminal, then a bus or cab up to the club. If it's a nice night, sometimes I'll walk.
The Skytrain took on passengers at the Stadium/Chinatown stop. I looked at my watch. I had time. I bolted out the doors and they closed behind me.
The Keefer Bar is about four or five blocks from the station. I snuck over for a cocktail before sucking back the PBR at The Biltmore.
7:30pm - The Keefer Bar
One very strong (but freakin' awesome) cocktail
They were hosting a private party but the manager, Danielle, had a little fireside pow-wow going on the patio outside for non-private party people. My cocktail was great. I had a quick but nice chat with Danielle and a handful of customers before heading off. I catch a bus up Main to 7th and walk the last five blocks to The Biltmore.
8(ish)pm - The Biltmore Cabaret
Three cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon (and a secret double vodka and tonic, consumed upstairs while singing karaoke)
I like The Biltmore. I like it even more when friends are playing there. The "early show" last night were The Stumbler's Inn with Shiloh Lindsey and James Wood. I caught Graham Myrfield outside the club and he put me on the guest list. I said my hello to the collected "gang" inside and headed to the back to dispose of seven beers and one cocktail. I noticed the poster for last night's "Glory Days" party and Fan Death were playing. Score.
At this point in the evening, I actually started to pace myself, slow down, so that I could make it to see Fan Death play.
James was awesome. Shiloh was Shiloh (read awesome) and The Stumbler's Inn were kicking ass...
And then this...
PART II: Detox - Cute Aussie nurses and bumming smokes from crazy people.
Friday, December 17, 2010
~ Jim Harrison
Friday, December 10, 2010
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Read this entry only if you don't mind a few laughs (and a couple cringes) at the expense of your precious childhood memories. The following is a transcript of the drunk "Tweets" I sent while watching The Wizard of Oz about 2 o'clock this morning.
Bedtime movie: I was thinking "Third Man", "Touch of Evil". Went with "Wizard of Oz" but it's taped over "Hells Angels on Wheels", still manly.
"Over the Rainbow" even straight guys can appreciate this as one of the best songs ever. Okay, 'some' straight guys. #garlandsadish
Just looking at that hat Miss Gulch is wearing... She might be a witch but with a hat like that you know she's an evil cunt.
How do we know Wizard of Oz wasn't made recently? A hustler like "Professor Marvel" would have whored her out instead of sending her home.
Never underestimate my ability to ruin every childhood memory you might have.
Wow colour! Munchin suicide watch starts now.
Ding Dong... Certainly the cheeriest song about homicide ever written.
I'm glad I'm drunk and not high, otherwise the stunted ballerinas of the Lullaby League would be fucking with my head.
Glinda's high as a Kansas tornado... Smiling away... The trailer park prom dress. Pure valium. That's probably where Judy got her habit.
The Scarecrow explains BC politics: taking directions from a guy with no brain and a stick up his ass.
Another clue that the Wizard of Oz is fiction? No good looking young woman who left Kansas would be in that big of a hurry to get back.
Yes Dorothy! Lube me up! A man without a heart wants to be oiled up by a teenage runaway. Go figure.
Don't go with her Tin Man! She's just going to sell you for scrap to buy valium!
You wonder why Judy Garland got in so much trouble later in life when she considers two utter fuck ups she just met as the best friends she's ever had.
Okay, not a hanging munchin but a bird. More's the pity.
Ah the good old days, when cowards attacked little dogs and girls in gingham dresses instead of shooting up their high schools.
Poppy field makes them fall asleep and "snow" wakes them up? I don't have to ruin this one. It kind of speaks for itself.
Scarecrow's day at the spa looks like a TSA pat down.
Afghan peasants can shoot down a Soviet gunship but the people of Emerald City can't take out a bitch and her broom? Surrender Dorot...BOOM!
Wikileaks reports the Wizard thinks Dorothy is a whiny little cunt.
The Wizard looks like a Star Trek alien on stage at a KISS concert.
I suspect the flying monkeys are just a flash back to the poppy field.
Okay, I'll admit it; it's been over 30 years since the first time I saw this movie and the flying monkeys still scare the shit out of me.
*Note to palace guard: the guy at the FRONT does a head count to make sure the guys at the BACK should actually be there.
"Hurry! Please hurry! The hourglass is almost empty!" We'll be right there! Have to change out of our disguises first!
Looks like the wicked witch was actually Wiccan. Give her a bath and she dies.
It's amazing how quickly her loyal storm troopers turned on her. Looks like Nuremburg. Bastards, hang 'em all!
If you pause the movie and look closely at the piece of paper the Wizard hands the Scarecrow, it's actually George W. Bush's Yale diploma.
If Dorothy had got in that balloon, the FBI would have found her head in a freezer in Oklahoma 10 years later.
That scene would have been better if they had munchins hanging off the balloon like the GI's and the Playboy helicopter in Apocalypse Now.
Valium-whacked bitch, if you told me 3 days ago I could've clicked my heels and gone home, I would've believed you. Thanks for the heads up.
Okay, movie's over. Just in case you missed the sarcasm fest, I'm posting it all on my blog when I wake up. Twizzard of Oz.#culturethug
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
I often steal the remark, "The most uncommon thing on the planet is common sense". The world seems consumed by a pity-party/hate-fest that doesn't show any sign of receding any time soon. This is alarming. But, it is not new.
Was anyone actually surprised when it was revealed that Keith Olberman was a Democrat?
I know one person who wouldn't have been and really wouldn't have given a fuck either:
The one thing that keeps some of us just above the fray, the pity-party/hate-fest, is the one thing we possess that others don't: the truth.
But that doesn't seem to help. The blind are blind are blind. But we knew this.
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day."
Thursday, November 25, 2010
A Broken Clock Is Right Twice A Day [unless it is digital in which case you're fucked]: How the "Information Age" is anything but
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by the "Internetz".
I have decided that people really are that stupid. And the "Information Age" sure as shit isn't helping much. For years I'd heard that, "cheap advice is seldom good and good advice is seldom cheap", but there is now so much advice out there that no one seems to be able to pick the music from the white noise.
We have lost our "grey area".
People either don't believe a word anyone tells them or will believe anything they are told. There seems to be fewer and fewer people in the middle anymore, the ones who actually look into things before dismissing or accepting them.
The whole TSA "Don't Touch My Junk" escapade was a set-up from the get go. Did no one wonder why this guy (a personal liberties crusader) just happened to be videotaping his trip through the security check? It is what was commonly referred to as a publicity stunt. Now we call it news. Balloon boys and White House party crashers seem to be the norm now and we are constantly bombarded by media from all angles. [Possibly] the next GOP presidential candidate has book deals, her own reality TV show and a daughter on Dancing With The Stars.
Add to this the Internet and the wheels start to come off. You needn't point out the irony to me taking a stab at the Internet, but thanks for at least spotting it. Anyone with a computer and access to the Internet can say pretty much anything they please and people will accept it. When you ask someone for the proof their opinion is based on, they send you a link to a YouTube video.
The greatest information tool ever created by humans and we use it for porn and spam. If you stop exercising a muscle, entropy sets in. Our minds, our curiosity, work under the same principle: we need to keep using them in order to navigate through this sea of obscene pap that is thrust upon us everyday with growing intensity. When the spoon-fed drivel starts being accepted as fact on faith, infotainment wins, and everyone loses. Especially the ones who are too ignorant to see it as a loss.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
It has come to my attention that having money and a legal source of income is somewhat of a necessity these days. To that end I have decided to promote and sell action figures. Please browse the catalogue below.