Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Why the Bees Died

It's honestly AMAZING how often people act in short-sighted ways against their own longterm self interests (such as almost anyone who votes Republican in the US).

We can keep using our cell phones. The EPA fucked up and ignored their own scientists' warnings. Damn you science, don't you understand the bottom line?

Bayer makes Clothianidin which kills the bees. The stuff spreads through the environment VERY easily and even low doses kill bees. Bees, who are needed to pollinate crops.

And yes, this is due to the Bush administration (a waiver from 2003 which allowed them to ignore the science - and they shut down the research to find the culprit of the bee deaths).

At any rate, stuff like this makes me feel better about the Wikileaks phenomena (even though this one isn't from Wikileaks) - we need transparency about the shit companies and governments try to hide - it's in the best interest of humanity. There's a vested interest in shutting these people down, as usual, by people who have funding and control the media. I'm sorry that Julian Assange's sexual activities may or may not have tainted that part of the debate, and I'm happy that Michael Moore has posted bail for him.

Monday, November 29, 2010

Thanks K103!

A week or so ago, I posted an article about my thoughts concerning the state of Montreal radio, and how I felt that the K103 morning show of Ted, Java and Paul was a breath of fresh air in a sea of mediocrity.

Well, this morning, the K103 guys not only plugged the article and this site on their Facebook page, but also gave it a well appreciated shout out on the air. This is pretty much just a simple site where guys vent about crap they experience in their day to day lives, and the on air plug drove a whole lot of traffic our way, which is pretty awesome. So a great big "Thank You" to our friends over at K103. If you haven't given them a listen yet, please do so, I can pretty much guarantee it'll be a fun time.

Now, as a bit of a thank you, I have created a mock up using the photoshop skills I don't have, and a grand total of maybe 4 minutes of my time. I know, I'm a giver. Here is my proposal for some custom T-Shirts for those K103 morning guys, Ted Bird, Java Jacobs and Paul Graif. I wanted to make something hip and cool, because I hear that the kids enjoy "hip" and/or "cool.

What's cool? Naturally I thought of Tony Danza. Man, that dude is cool. Then I was informed that it was no longer the eighties. Not sure when that happened. Then it hit me though. What do the kids love? What makes them go "squeeeeee"? You know it.


So without further ado, here are my K103 t-shirt proposals. With proper funding... I dunno, maybe in the tune of 3.4 billion dollars, we could get a production run of 200-300 of these bad boys printed up:

Ted Bird

Java Jacobs

Paul Graif

Sorry Paul...

But clearly, this is a can't miss business opportunity! There are dozens and dozens of dollars to be made. Come on K103, call me, let's move on this while the movin' is good!

Superhero Changeups

I got into an animated discussion with my boy about superheroes (an interest we both share)... in particular, the logistics of costumes and the transformation process. He was trying to figure out how he was going to change into his pretend super-hero persona.

Some superheroes have it easy - your Green Lanterns, for instance, where it's quick and clean, no fuss, no muss, just a flash of a power ring and voila, good to go.

Until Iron Man 2's suitcase armor, his conversion always seemed inconvenient and uncomfortable - we both agree that it's one of the coolest ones, ever. The Adam West Batman also always seemed to need his Batpole.

Some need a painful-looking transformation like the Hulk... leaving their alter-ego needing a clothing budget the size of a small country's GDP.
Frankly, I prefer the Ultimate version of the Hulk, what with the massive body count and the elimination of the need for surprisingly stretchy purple pants... but that one's not exactly age-appropriate.

Then there are those whose transformations surely must wreak havoc with both the concept of a secret identity and the general environment (e.g., whenever Billy Batson says "Shazam!" indoors).

But my favourite is perhaps the most iconic of all, Superman. In discussing this with my boy, we both started to wonder whether sewing buttons was one of his super-powers, or whether he uses velcro, because he rips through an awful lot of his dress shirts. Frankly, given the sheer number of shirts he leaves littering the Daily Planet, the janitorial staff is either complicit in his secret identity, or they're engaged in a massive second-hand men's clothing racket and assume that there are an awful lot of office romances.

There's no real point to this post... just amusing observations from conversations with a 4 year old. In the end, he decided he'd wear his costume under his street clothes, which works for winter, at least.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

The Sad State of Montreal Radio

Popping on the radio in the morning and the evening is more or less a staple in the daily life of a commuter. Get a fix on the traffic situation, listen to the weather, maybe a few tunes and some witty DJ banter to start and finish your work day. At least, it used to be.

Nowadays, you don't need the radio to tell you the traffic situation, you have your GPS device for that. The weather? Just open up your browser before you leave to get a reading for the upcoming week. And hell, who doesn't have an MP3 player of some sort, loaded with their favourite songs, not just what some radio programming director has deemed fit to play. So, what then does the radio have left to offer the commuter?

Witty banter is about it. Some fun jokes, maybe news bites, a sports commentary, just a bit of honest, improvised fun. The sort of thing that is hard for the commuter to pop onto their MP3 player ahead of time. Plus, the radio DJs can break it down to a local level, potentially giving the local commuter a better sense of what's going on around them in their communities.

So, if we have identified what drive time radio offers, what's the problem?

The problem is that in Montreal and the surrounding area, radio really, really, really fucking sucks.

Let me preface this by saying I am pretty much talking about the FM band here. I like to have some music mixed in, and AM radio just can't cut it there. So talking about FM radio, English of course, what is the current situation?

It's piss poor is what it is. Our options in the Montreal area are pretty limited, and that may in fact be part of the problem, but honestly, it seems that as of late, Montreal radio has been sinking deeper and deeper into a pit of suck. It hasn't always been peaches and cream of course, but usually there would be a station out of the lot that had a fun formula to grab your attention and keep it, instead of making you want to punch a baby due to the sheer stupidity.

When it comes to morning radio, I like to stick to what I like. Classic Rock and Hard Rock. Because of this, stations like Q92 or Mix 96 (I ain't calling it Virgin radio) never really appealed to me. For me, the music pretty much sucked so I didn't bother with them. No, as a lover of rock and roll, that meant one thing…

CHOM 97.7

For me, the golden age of Montreal AM radio was Terry and Ted in the morning. They jumped around a fair bit during their run together, and sometimes had other people join them, but honestly it was always about Terry and Ted. They played well off of one another, kept each other in check, and had fun with the job. That was awesome. Sure, they weren't always gold, but more often than not, their show made for a good drive.

Then Terry DiMonte left Montreal.

They replaced him with Rob Kemp. Now, don't get me wrong, I actually kind of like Rob Kemp. He's laid back and can be witty and fun. However, he was a bad pairing for Ted Bird. Ted walked all over him. More specifically, Ted Bird was just such a dominant part of the show, that Kemp took a back seat. Ted Bird is fun, but he needs to be reined in. Terry DiMonte could do that, Rob Kemp could not.

Then the brainiacs at CHOM replaced Rob Kemp with Pete Merrier. The guy that was pretty much CHOM filler for most of his career is suddenly given the plum position of morning host. How bad could it be? Pretty fucking bad. Pete Merrier and Ted Bird had zero chemistry, completely different styles and sense of humour, and quite simply didn't mesh. The dynamic of the show changed, taking on a more juvenile tone mixed with some misogyny. It was uncomfortable and unenjoyable.

However, something happened over the Christmas holiday of 2009. Ted Bird got fed up with stuff (no idea what it is, that's his business) and quit CHOM. It was a balsy move, maybe suicidal career wise, but Ted made it and I respect the man for not wanting to be stuck in a shitty situation and doing something about it.

Now, CHOM was in a bit of a spot here. Ted Bird was the marquee player in the mix, and with him gone, they were in a bit of a lurch. They needed a sports guy in the mix, and someone with name value. What do they end up doing?

P.J. fucking Stock.

An ex-NHLer with a HNiC gig, P.J. had *some* name value. What he did not have, and does not have to this day, is any sort of radio ability. His timing sucks balls, his voice is not fit for radio, he isn't witty, and he has a penchant for being crass. Don't get me wrong, I don't blame P.J. Stock for this, he's collecting a pay check is all, I blame CHOM management for hiring somebody that has no business being on radio, let alone a stations flagship show.

I love classic rock, but right now I hate CHOM. Something here doesn't make sense, and one can look at the lineup to get all the understanding you need. The morning show feels like it's insulting to my intelligence, and is more likely to make me angry than give me a pleasant drive.

So what to do?

Well, several months back, there was word that Ted Bird was returning to morning radio. Fuck yeah! Right? Only it was't going to be on CHOM, he was returning to K103.7 FM.

K103.7FM? What the fuck is that?

K103.7 is the local Kahnawake radio station. Now, I had, and still do not have, any idea why Ted Bird would end up on the Kahnawake radio station, but hell, Ted was back and I was going to give the man a chance to see what he could do there. Honestly, I didn't expect much. I thought it would be the overdose of Ted Bird that we had seen before, fairly convinced that he just couldn't do a show without Terry DiMonte. Oh me of little faith.

Ted Bird is teamed up with a fellow by the name of Java Jacobs. My first thought of course was… Java? But after that, I gave them a listen over a period of time. Trying to see what I thought.

Java, it turns out, is a funny, funny guy. He's almost a cross between Terry DiMonte and Peter Griffon, and I mean that in the most flattering way possible. Like DiMonte before him, he pairs up with Ted beautifully. Ted doesn't run the man over, as Java holds his own with the Montreal radio legend, and they have the sort of chemistry that just clicks. More importantly, it sounds like they have fun together. That it's more than just a job with a paycheck attached, that these guys are friends and the banter is real.

The music is generally good and I would say classic rock dominated, though they don't seem to have a set format to follow and simply play whatever they feel like playing at the time. They have their own skits which are as hit and miss as they ever were with Terry and Ted, along with a few K103 inspired bits. Every morning they have the "world reknown spoken word artist" Clovis Bova help out with a Name That Tune skit that is constantly hilarious and genuinely a highlight of the drive in.

Honestly, if you like classic rock, if you like fun shows, if you have fond memories of Terry and Ted, give the K103 morning show a listen. It's a great example of what a place can do with fewer resources, but great people. It seems to have completely re-energized Ted Bird, and introduced me to some awesome radio. In a sea of shitty, formulaic shows that feel tired and tripe, the K103 morning show is a genuine hit that makes the morning commute that much easier to stomach.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

To Torrent or Not To Torrent

That is the question. Whether 'tis nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of the MPAA/RIAA/CRIA/CRTC's outrageous fortune...
Yorick shouldn't have tried to torrent the Incredible Hulk.
You wouldn't like the MPAA when they're mad.

They're starting to crack down on us hosers now - cease-and-desist letters are being sent, lawyers and fines and punishment are being threatened. The free ride Canadians seem to have gotten is coming to an end. And that's mostly fine by me.

Here's why I torrented in the past: because I wanted to watch what I wanted to watch when I wanted to watch it on the devices I wanted to watch it on.

In the early days, I wanted to see, say the South Park movie on my Dell Axim PDA... I own the bloody VHS copy, but there was no convenient way to do it. So I went into the grey area and format-shifted.
And I shall tell my child I had to convert media to WMF format...
uphill... both ways... in the snow.

Later, I might want to watch something else - but we had no Netflix streaming in Canada - so frankly, no easy alternative, although the technology we had allowed us to do this. And Pirate Bay was ever so accessible...

Then, I wanted to watch legitimately purchased DVDs with my kid without sitting through five damned minutes of unskippable crap, including retina-burning screens telling me I'd better not be dreaming of piracy... OR ELSE. AnyDVD solved that.

Since I'm no pirate... here's the source of this pic.

Well, now with Zip.ca and Netflix.ca, we kinda have a Canadian compromise. See, I want to pay for legitimate access to my media. I want to watch it on my TV, my computer, my iPhone, without hassle. I'm prepared to pay for this access and convenience. Now, it seems our Canadian government is getting in the way of things, hence Netflix.ca's appalingly bad selection.

Oh, there's stuff to watch, so it's kinda worth the $8/month. But seriously, why, when the tech is there and the market is clearly there, does the Canadian government see fit to protect us from accessing streaming content of stuff we want to watch - especially when it's accessible on other media available in Canada?

So... I'm pretty sure that there's increasingly no good reason to illegally download media, not when there are legitimate cheap alternatives (emphasis on 'increasingly').

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Mysteries of Life

Throughout recorded time, man has pondered many serious and mind boggling concepts and questions. Our ability to reason, dissect a situation, formulate an answer, and then apply that knowledge to the world around us is one of the fundamental differences between us and the lesser species such as gophers, penguins, moose and the Swedish. Many items have piqued our curiosity over the years, causing our best thinkers and philosophers to agonize over seemingly impossible decisions. Is the Earth flat? Is time a variable or a constant? Is there life on other planets? Who shot J.R.? All pivotal questions in our evolution as a species. But despite all of these, and the myriad of other incredibly important conundrums that mankind has faced, there remains one question that is vastly more important, exceptionally more difficult, and incredibly more profound…

What's better, a slutty schoolgirl or a hot MILF?

Read that again. Now look at me. Then back at the question. Now back to me. Mull it over for a second. Odds are you already had an answer. No, don't tell me. Shhh. Just ponder, gentle warrior, just ponder. Everyone thinks they know the answer right off, but oh, it is never that simple. Never so straight forward as that. In order to truly understand what it is being asked here, one has to understand the very nature of the human psyche, the very core of the human experience. Now, I can’t promise to get you the answer you so desperately yearn for, but I am hoping that my years of experience as a perverted old man will help you better understand the question.

Let’s start by analyzing our two options. First we have the Slutty Schoolgirl. She is, of course, the the very pinnacle of the forbidden fruit, packaged so nicely in a uniform that shows you just enough to pique your interest, but holds enough back to tantalize your imagination. She is the 16, 18, 15, 18 and over girl next door. She smiles coyly at your and bites her lower lip. She is the girl that makes you feel like an old man at 24, and possesses a vocabulary that is about 83% dominated by the word “like”.

Looks good, doesn’t she? Nice, supple skin. A pretty face. Perky little ass. Oh but be warned my friends, it isn’t all peaches and cream here. There are some serious items to consider before deciding that the slutty school girl is in fact, the ultimate fantasy.


Is young and therefore has tons of youthful energy.
Doesn’t have the worldly experience to check her drink for roofies.
Can be distracted by shiny things.
Breasts are likely above hip level.
There is about a 78% chance she has a tramp stamp. This allows you to know which end is up in your drunken haze.


Let’s be honest, she might have energy, but you don’t. She expects more than your “special move”. AKA: Three thrusts and sleepy time.
Hasn’t become bitter and jaded yet, so will likely have expectations for you.
Twilight. She likes it.
Is likely accustomed to guys her own age, and their genetically enhanced super cocks.
Hasn’t been trained yet to be quiet when the Hockey game is on.

Oh, but now we can look to the other half of our puzzle. The Yin to the Slutty School Girl’s Yang. Wow, that sounds kinda sexy. Where was I? Oh yes, this brings us to the Sexy MILF. Now, there are types, subtypes, classifications and definitions of the MILF. Does she have to be a mother? Is there an age range? Well folks, for the purposes of this thoughtful analysis, we shall use the benchmark of a woman who is 32 years of age or older, that has that slightly used look to her, and haunted eyes that have seen too much. Oh, and is totally boneable.

The Sexy MILF is an enigma, clearly on the the declining years of her prime, but composed of a raw sexual energy that is begging to be unleashed. She is a creature that is likely looking for an outlet, looking to find a moment that takes her back to her glory years wearing as a waitress at a shitty bar that where all the guys wanted her, and she teased their dicks for tips. You know, the good old days. It takes a special kind of man to track, trap and tame the wild MILF, as she can be coy and random in her wanderings. Anybody can bag an older woman, but only the bravest, most steadfast, and quick witted of men can coral the Sexy MILF.


Way more likely to make you after sex pancakes. Mmm, after sex pancakes.
All those filthy things you love to do? Yeah, she’s game.
Doesn’t expect you to buy her pretty things. Is usually content when you buy her a pack of smokes or a case of beer. Practical items, you know?
See that golf ball? See that garden hose? Sure, maybe she can’t quite do it, but she’ll give it her best try.
Years. Of. Experience.


Likely knows exactly what great sex is. Very good chance that you ain’t it.
May have to cut sexual escapades short as her kids have soccer practice. No, it won’t matter if you have gone past the point of no return.
Can be easily distracted by songs from the 80s or 90s, especially during sex. For the love of god, turn the radio off if you don’t want her to start singing The Cure.
Has many more years of experience leading guys on. Can likely milk a guy for drinks all night, and then walk away.
Slutty School girls know you want them. Sexy MILFs know you want them and are willing to do anything to get them. Dangerous bit of knowledge there.

Unfortunately, there isn’t a simply answer to this mystery. It may in fact be one of those unanswerable questions. All I can do is present you with the facts, and allow you to draw your own conclusions. Contemplate my friends. Meditate and seek enlightenment. Hopefully I have started you on a spiritual journey. One of self discovery, and improvement of the soul. The points I have raised are but the tip of the iceberg, there is still so much more to analyze. I am still hoping to get a very large grant to help my… study… of the subject.

Thank you gentle readers, and have a pleasant day and a good night.

By the way, the answer is MILFs. MILFs are fucking awesome.

Linty Thoughts

As I move through the daily slog of dadhood, one of the many tasks includes never ending cycles laundry. Here's something I've noticed lately (likely due to the aforementioned cycle of load after load of laundry...) no matter what colour the clothes are, the dryer lint is always a dull grey purplish blue.

I'm not sure why someone is preserving let alone labeling this... but I love the internet (Now with more than just boobies!)

Google has failed me here - no one else seems to have a good answer (except one Yahoo Answers guy who claims that it's because blue is the most common denominator dye in clothes). I dunno. I have a lot of black socks. You'd think that black would make everything darker.

Also, I'm not sure if I should feel bad when I look at lint... does it mean my clothes are all gradually degrading and losing material content each wash/dry cycle?

Saturday, November 13, 2010

First they came for the sports writers, and I was silent...

As someone who emphatically considers professional sports to be the third greatest waste of human energy (war and pop music being the first two respectively), I'm not overwhelmingly saddened by the first nail in the coffin of professional sports journalism.

"Oh, the humanity!"

With Suzette (the chatbot which just passed the Turing test for artificial intelligence), who knows? We could be well on the way to getting a lot of our entertainment and news content via AI.

In some cases (e.g., a review of the latest Justin Bieber concert), this might be a small mercy on behalf of writers and readers everywhere. In other cases, well, no AI could be as irrational and idiotic as the Tea Partiers and Fox News.

Brought to you by your robotic overlords. Simpsons at 9. Boobies at 11.

Jon Stewart, you will be missed once "liberal-humourist-pundit-version_2.0" comes out. Stephen Colbert, you're safe until they've managed to convert your satirical dog whistles to algorithms that amuse the left and confuse the right.

In all honesty, I suspect we're going to be closer to Neuromancer than Skynet. Any AI worth it's salt will spend its time seeking intelligent life elsewhere.

This post was written by someone claiming to be a human, as far as you know.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Hey Montreal - Learn How to Park Your Damn Car!

     Why the fuck can’t people park their cars anymore? Did some magical fucking meteorite pass by the earth and blast people with gamma radiation that somehow removed our ability to correctly park our automobiles? Is there some sort of corollary with people’s inability to place their cars in a desired space and the fact that modern culture has robbed us of depth perception? Or maybe it could be because everybody, everywhere, always has a huge emergency going on and needs to vacate their method of transportation, ASAP.

No my friends (and I say this not particularly liking any of you), the answer is much, much simpler. People, are fucking douchebags.
Regardless of where you are, where you go, what you see, what you do, you are almost guarandamnteed to see some fucker failing at parking his or her car. You have the moron parked 3 feet away from the curb, the idiot parked right up the ass of the car in front of him for no good reason, the asshole taking up 2 spots in a crowded mall parking lot, or the twat who parks in front of (and in some rare cases of super-douchery, inside) your fucking driveway.

Is this strictly a Montreal phenomenon? I highly doubt it. However, Montreal, for whatever reason, seems to have a much higher douchebag to non-douchebag ratio than most other places (as evidenced by the bikers that bitch out cars after the biker neglects to stop at a light, swerves across two lanes, randomly stopping in the middle of thestreet to talk on their iPhone, and almost getting hit by some horrible motorist who has the audacity to drive straight down the street) I think we probably have a higher per-capita amount of people that simply cannot park their fucking cars!

Okay, I’m not about to go scouring the Montreal area for pictures of this shit, mostly because it’s cold and I’m incredibly fucking lazy, but because I love you all (I really fucking don’t), I went through the time and effort of searching online for this shit. I am so amazing.

What the cock is this??? Is your SUV trying to fuck the other one? If not, it really shouldn’t be on top of the bitch.

Let’s see… We have a driveway right about here… and a car right about here… Yup, looks good to me!

Hmm... The parking lot is crowded, but my car is awesome. People will totally understand that I need multiple spaces. I’m the center of the fucking universe, after all.

After the Duke boys lost Roscoe, they decided to stop for a bite to eat. Turns out they can drive like pros, but park like douches.


  After trying to scour the interwebz for the ultimate picture of supreme douchebag parking, this is pretty much it. A fucking Audi (the douchiest of all cars): check. In handicapped parking: check. Taking up 4 handicapped spots: check. Holy fucking shit, Batman, we have ourselves a winner!

And here we have a fucking brilliant idea some schmuck on the the internet came up with, and I am totally fucking stealing. A nice passive-aggressive way of telling fucktards that they’re fucktards. I’m gonna get a batch of these bad boys printed up. If you happen to find one on your windshield, then you know what to do… Move to Toronto, douchebag.

            At any rate, you get the idea. Parking isn’t all that complicated. It really isn’t. You see those lines? Go in them. There. You’re done. See that curb? Park beside it. Incredible, I know. See that driveway? Don’t park in front of it. Shocking! Why this is hard for so many people I have no idea. But it apparently is. So kids, listen to me closely: Don’t. Park. Like. A. Douchebag. Because at this very moment, I am training a small army of bonobo chimps to hunt down people that can’t park, and then sodomize the fucking shit out of them, and follow that up with a good skull fucking. They’ll find you. And they are randy little monkeys...

Thursday, November 11, 2010

The New Guy

Hello world!

I've been asked to rejoin the ranks of the bloggers and add my incoherent and disjointed thoughts to this illustrious blog (albeit with proper spelling, grammar, and syntax - have at me grammar Nazis!).

I've been a blogger before - mostly politics - until I just got burnt out by impotent bitching about the various Bush-era idiocies south of the border and went from 'political junkie' to barely able to name the current president.

Neither one of these guys

I'm also a dad, which consumes a lot of my spare time (that is, the time not spent growing my VoIP system integration business), so I'll probably share some of my thoughts and experiences about that. It's quite amazing the transition that occurs when one becomes a parent - at a certain point, we cease to have our own identities and become "[child's name]'s dad". I've largely given up introducing myself by name to other parents. It's often a relief when they do too, because my brain cells are otherwise too occupied to remember their kids' names, the names of all the Transformers/super-heros/etc...

Not my kid

Anyways, that's my intro post - hopefully some amusing rants will follow!

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Random Hate Nuggets -- by Arazi13

Even though my mood usually is determined on whether or not The Habs have won their last game, there are some other factors that sometimes can play a role.

  • Like this guy

Pepe Le Pu (aka smell terrorist.)

Pepe is the guy on the Metro or Train, that in Lieu of bathing, showering or even taking a whores bath (Armpits, Asshole and Balls)  Sprays an insane amount of cheap cologne all over himself causing an olfactory nightmare ( See Fig 1a) id rather smell CURRY SWEAT! When you breath in next to this Pepe you feel your nose hairs singing from the toxicity of cologne/Perfume and it takes the totality of your being to hold yourself from smashing your own nose over and over until you couldn't smell the urinal in a Portuguese cat house on dollar beer night!

Fig 1a.) Olfactory system + Nightmare

Less annoying but just as intrusive is THE TALKER. This person has little to no cell phone etiquette and talks on his or her cell as if they are completely alone.

I need to start drugging myself before the commute, because for some reason it is still not socially acceptable to brain someone with a ball-peen hammer for talking on his cell too loud. (one day hopefully if we get the right people on the supreme court we will be able to change that.)

Addendum to this hate nugget...

Long ass cell phone messages.... if it is not an emergency DO NOT LEAVE ME A MESSAGE. i have caller ID for a reason. text me if need be. When i see that message notice blinking on my cell phone i just want to smash it with a sledgehammer, repeatedly. I will delete you.

ahhhh getting all that out makes me feel sooo much better!

Saturday, October 23, 2010

You shat in front of those subway doors on purpose, you vile fucker.

I'm gonna start this one off by listing a couple hateful tweets of mine. You can follow me at @frost914 for a daily dose of inane rants; I also use it therapeutically. If I'm not discharging hate, I'm linking some boring sci-fi crap.

  • Oct. 23 - "I think I got a sexually-transmitted cold."
  • Oct. 21 - "Dude at Tim Horton's gave me $3.99 in change. I hope he fucking dies in a trainwreck."
  • Oct. 19 - "Switched to Chrome. Fuck Firefox. Fuck it."
  • Oct. 15 - "Everytime Dave Grohl sings an acoustic ballad, God kills a kitten; everytime the Foo Fighters kill my ears with power chords, God saves one."
  • Oct. 12 - "Paper towels or hand dryer... do I feel like ravaging a rain forest or a Canadian river?"
  • etc.

And here's the usual list of stuff that suck.

  • Sharts and Barches: I had salmonella once, and it was some of the most memorable days of my life. They consisted of spinning around on the toilet bowl and waking up in the middle of the night while soiling myself - sharting myself silly. Salmonella is like some kind of sick olympic sport. And then there's the times when you just ate a large burrito platter, then let loose a little belch while bending over to tie your shoe, which is usually followed by a little mouthful of surprise vomit - you just barf-belched, or barched for short.
  • Sweatpants: Nothing says "I fail at life" like a pair of ash-grey sweatpants. At least, switch to trackpants, which basically say "I fail at life, but at least I made it as a successful cocaine dealer". There are however some exceptions, such as this:
The only acceptable use of sweatpants.

  • Big-ass umbrellas: Like the great Lewis Black once said, if a dude goes to college for 16 years, he becomes a doctor and gains the amazing right (and duty) to shove a thermometer up my ass. The dude studied for 16 years - he EARNED it. However, just because you bought a huge sunshade-style umbrella at Walmart doesn't mean you're allowed to shove its rusty tips into my eyeballs while walking down the street. Fuckin' watch it already, people. Thanks to Olivier at work for pointing this out; I've been having these fits of rage when walking around the street in the rain and couldn't quite put my finger on why.
  • Homeless guys who defecate in public - If I had lost the musical chair game of life, ended up living in the gutter, begging for change, and was afflicted with severe schizophrenia and sociopathy, I probably would also, on a daily basis, squat in front of the Sherbrooke metro station entrance and let loose a pile of crap for the dual purpose of effectively blocking it and revolting people out, disturbing the delicate fabric of society in the process. But I'm thinking there are probably easier ways to do that.
Finally, I promised a few weeks ago that I'd list some of the things I like, for a change. Here it is:

  • Sleeping bags: They're soft, comfy, cool in the summer and warm in the winter. It's like some kind of magic - rainbows, unicorns and sleeping bags. They also smell good. I love sleeping bags.
  • Sloppy kiss scenes in movies: Look at the kiss scenes in Twelve Monkeys, Pulp Fiction, Punch Drunk Love... they just make me all fuzzy inside.
  • Waterworld: Yeah, so what? It's Mad Max on water, with shitty extras. Was it really that bad? Ok maybe, but uh... Dennis Hopper was ok! And uh... it actually made money. That's all I got.
That's it - print it!

Thursday, October 21, 2010


What do you get when you mix an onion....

With a Donkey

Well ordinarily you get an onion with donkey ears...but once and a while you get a piece of ass that brings tears to your eyes!

Friday, October 8, 2010

Al Pacino is always pissed in a suit.

Just to let you guys know that I haven't forgotten about this blog and how therapeutic it can be for me. I'm preparing an avalanche of hate which should be unleashed in the coming weeks.

I the meantime, have a look at this collection of pictures of pissed Al Pacinos in suits.

Monday, September 20, 2010

I saw what you did there, McDonald's guy!

Back from vacation! The highlights of which were a beautiful visit of Lac St-Jean, a bunch of animals, a nasty itch from the sting of a hairy caterpillar and one of those leg cramps that wake you up in the middle of the night, hoping death would arrive.

Every second morning, I go to McDonald's and get myself a coffee. I love their coffee; I got to taste it when they had that free coffee promotion a year ago, right before every morning became a god damn gulag where you had to wait 25 minutes for a free cup of coffee. Apparently, people like to wait 25 minutes for something worth $1.37.

But it's only recently that I realized something - the guy at McDonald's will always put the cover in a certain way so that coffee will leak from the ply into the cardboard cup, right onto your lap, when you take a sip. So don't forget to check under if the ply is in front of the spout - if it's the case, someone with a shitty job is trying to fuck you.

We have shitty jobs, therefore you must pay.

Here's a list of other things that are making me a little more insane with each passing moment:

  • People who add shitty music to their shitty Youtube videos: This just makes me want to pull out my front teeth. The Internet is already overstuffed with useless scripts, ads and other bandwidth-whoring crap, there really is no need for people to sprinkle some Nickelback on top of those boring Halo 3 replays of theirs.
  • Leeches and slugs: Every night, all the leeches and slugs of the world meet in an underground bunker and plan the destruction of every other living thing in the Universe. I learned that when I was a kid, when I put a leech in a fishtank and watched, horrified, as it killed them all, one by one. But it didn't just kill them - it crammed its face inside its agonizing, helpless victim's gill crack and sucked all the air and blood and life out of it. These meetings are also attended by hairy caterpillars and house centipedes.
  • Waiting in line: Everytime I get stuck waiting in line, I pull a Michael Douglas in Falling Down, minus the latino drive-bys and dead Nazis. Can't stand it. People cut in front with some kind of excuse (i.e. I am 6'5" tall). Fuck that - nothing is worth waiting in line.
  • People who don't wash their hands after taking shits: Unacceptable. There are some dudes at work who skip the hand-washing part of shitting, and everyone knows who they are because the Shithands List gets printed and passed around. The dirtiest piece of clothing we own is the belt buckle - it's the only article of clothing that comes into direct contact with solid, liquid and gaseous crap particles and isn't washed on a regular basis. Let's keep it at that and wash our fucking hands, shall we?
Next week: a list of things I love.

Friday, September 10, 2010

Bad Day? Try Bad Month... --- by arazi13

       I haven't written in a while, (of course I'm just assuming that enough people read this shit to notice) I have left most of the writing to my friend/colleague/partner in crime Max, AKA Tugboat Timmy.

Since my last post my 1 Month old laptop mysteriously stopped working and needed to be sent for repairs. (not sure what happened...)

Also, I had some health issues that made feel like this guy (except slightly less athletic... so slightly its barely worth mentioning...)

Both of these points made it a bit harder than normal to post.

Add all this to the fact that i just moved and had tons of issues with the sale of my place, not the least of which was the notary accidentally making the cheque out to me and my wife ROY (Joy). And no i will not name the bank that would not accept it, but let's say it rhymes with VD bank. Speaking of my wife ROY, a friend referred to me in a FB post recently as AVA and someone else's kid keeps calling my daughter Steve (Eve). I'm not sure what this means but in the course of a week or so all 3 of us have been gender miss-identified.

Therapy anyone??!?!

Dude looks like a fucking lady... Or does this lady look like a dude..?(I think this is a glass half empty argument.. and i never understand those...all i take away is that my glass NEEDS MORE DIET PEPSI)

Where wuz I?

Let’s move away from the rant and more to the hateful comparisons section to better illustrate how the month of august has felt to me.

 So there is this Representative from the VD bank, and he’s walking along and he hears someone calling out,

“Help help!” “Help, help!” out of the corner of his eye he sees me!

 I’m on my knees with my pants down around my ankles, my hands cuffed around a telephone pole. The rep from the VD bank comes over and says,

 “Oh man, what happened!?” 

 “Oh it was horrible, i got beat up by the tax man, my notary and the real estate agents! They beat me up! Took all my money and left me cuffed here with my pants around my ankles! But thank God you're here!”

 Then all of the sudden the VD banker unzips his fly and says,

 “This just isn’t your day now is it?!”

 i leave you with this thought.....

Captain Crunch is hillbilly Tempura.........

Monday, August 30, 2010

Give someone the Evil Eye today!

This blog is mostly about displacement, which basically means exteriorizing violence, physical or otherwise, unto unsuspecting, innocent, sometimes even inanimate objects. This violence arises from everyday frustrations stemming from lack of control over mundane, unpleasant situations.

This being said, let us move forward into a list of things that suck.

  • Website age-checkers: I haven't watched a movie or videogame trailer in months. The reason being that most websites are now plagued with this ignominous age-checker and how I promptly close the window before running outside and thrashing a parcometer. To fill this age-checker is such a useless gesture - I'm sure most kids below 18 lie about their age, watch the content, and then flog themselves into bloody agony. And why the hell don't porn websites have them? This reeks of bureaucratic legislative shenanigans.
  • Infomercials: Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should. For instance, if everyone wore bright pink spandex everyday, soon enough our alien overlords would neutron-bomb this place out of sheer embarrassment - experiment over, time to start anew. Infomercials have been the blight of television since time immemorial, only because some human beings with no dignity sink to the level of producing them, just because they can. These people should instead do something helpful, like killing mosquitoes. You know, there's a reason why Billy Mays is dead and the Slap Chop guy is in prison: it's God's work.
It's either that or spray-on hair.
  • Guys in suits: Walk around a bit downtown and eventually you'll come across three loud-speaking guys in suits. It's always the same: they're three guys, they smoke cigars, they talk about which hotel they slept in, they walk super slow and they take the entire width of the sidewalk, like they own it. If you run into them, they will grunt and give you the evil eye, like you're some kind of degenerate city-dwelling low-life. I usually walk right up to or past them and offer the best graphic display of nose-picking I can muster.
  • Zombie commercials: I call them zombie commercials because, like zombies, no matter how hard you try - shotguns, chainsaws, Dennis Miller jokes - these commercials just won't stop airing. A few examples are that god damned Mini-Wheats singing bastard, those Charmin' bears who spend all day wiping their asses against trees, and all Ford commercials that show happy families and invent words like "econergetic" or "cashtration".
  • The Quebec government: This week, I had to send the provincial government an income tax cheque of $9.71. This made me so angry, I won't even bother putting an accent on the word "Quebec" even though I'm a french guy.
  • Nicolas Cage: The guy is charming and is pretty handsome, yes. If I was a bit gayer, I'd go as far as saying I'd gladly shag the guy, given the opportunity. But why did he always end up sleeping with all the insanely hottest women in all Hollywood in literally all his movies in the 90's? I mean, was he really that hot?
So many things my little mind does not understand.

  • Super long game names: If you're gonna invest thousands of man-hours, several millions of dollars and months of development, at least have the decency to limit the length of your games to three concise words. The following games should be banned for the stupidity of their names:
Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles: My Life as a King
SpongeBob SquarePants Featuring Nicktoons - Globs of Doom
Tetris The Grand Master 4: The Master of Round
Peter Jackson's King Kong: The Official Game of the Movie
The Lord of the Rings: Battle for Middle Earth II: Rise of the Witch King

That's it for today, as I'm about to sell everything I own and go live with the Pygmies.

Friday, August 20, 2010

George Lucas needs a fist enema.

Imagine if Leonardo Da Vinci, moments before painting the Mona Lisa, had said "Fuck it, I'm gonna start the first ever boy band!", robbing mankind of one of its most inspiring pieces of art and screwing history forever in the process. It would also pretty much have spoiled everything he had ever created up to that point.

Well, that is precisely what George Lucas did in 1983 when he decided to include fucking teddybears in a battle of galactic proportions. He chose selling out over artistic integrity, and that made little Max very angry.

The Empire Strikes Back is my favorite sci-fi movie ever*, but all the suckage that followed almost cancels that. Here is a handy list of things that suck about the Star Wars franchise:

  • Ewoks.
  • Jar Jar Binks.
  • All that Special Edition bullshit where Greedo shoots first and every scene is littered with noisy Hasbro merchandise. (it's kinda like if Da Vinci had taken the Mona Lisa and went ahead to change its looks for something extremely stupid yet modern... think Max Headroom, who incidentally looks like a coked-up dealer)
Holy fuck, really?
  • Hayden Christensen and Jake Lloyd. (Why?)
  • All that Clone Wars nonsense. Nobody gives a crap. (Although, what Genndy Tartakovsky did with it was pretty damn mind-blowing - look it up)
  • George finally decides he wants to release his crapfest on Bluray, but it'll be Special Edition only. I already own the old trilogy TWICE on VHS and once on DVD. I really am a huge moron.
  • Fact: You can't shoot an entire trilogy in front of green screens; the actors will become depressed, even suicidal.
  • etc.
The way George Lucas defiled his creation makes me wanna go ski on a pair of elephant tusks while eating beluga kebabs. Here is a bunch of other things that ire me today:

  • Garbage trucks: The other day, a garbage truck drove by. Like all other garbage trucks, it was preceded by 100 meters of that foul garbage truck smell, and followed by another 250 meters of it. But then, it turned the corner a bit too fast and dropped a few gallons of that vile, sod-ridden garbage juice. This shit needs to stop at some point so we can become a bona fide, so-called civilization.
  • Cucumber makis: Who the hell invented these? They're more insulting than that homeless guy at the park who took a leak on me and stole my wallet while I was asleep.
I'd rather get slapped in the balls.

  • Mini-Wheats gunk: Very tasty cereal, but try eating an entire bowl of that weird hay-like stuff at the bottom of each box. Makes you feel like a ruminant, don't it?
  • Email spammers: Have you ever seen Event Horizon? Press pause when you see some of those flashing torture scenes from Hell and you'll see crazy stuff, like a guy stuffing his arm into some other guy's mouth, a dude ripping out his own eyeballs, some dude impaled on a stick, covered in maggots, etc. Well, this is the kind of treatment which should be applied to e-mail spammers.
  • Scientologists: Hang yourselves.
That's it for today. Tits or GTFO.

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Car Hate

I hate cars. Always hated 'em, always will. They are noisy, smelly and look like ass. I've already established that I live downtown, and the presence of cars in that environment makes it so damn noisy and smelly, it's like I'm living inside Joel Schumacher's womb.

Cars go against everything that is beautiful and nice in nature. Gas comes from oil, and oil comes from undeground detritus and half-decomposed crap and organisms that have been sitting there for millions of years; the next time you put gas into your car, imagine yourself trying to stuff a dead raccoon face-first into that little gas hole. It's essentially the same thing, but less entertaining.

In fact, every time you put gas into your car, you're defiling the Earth's biggest graveyard, thus making you a world-class grave robber. And that's pretty damn disgusting.

This is you when you fill up your tank.

Here is an alphabetical list of all things that suck about cars:

  • Car alarms are the lovechild of Satan, Baalzebub and Richard Simmons.
  • Car horns make me want choke kittens.
  • Road rage; complete pussies will turn into monsters when behind wheels, but will always flee or lock their doors when other drivers get out of their cars.
  • Smashing into a concrete wall at maximum speed will, although painlessly, most likely kill you.
  • The sound of revving engines makes my skin crawl.
  • They are killing our lovely planet and giving you lung cancer.
  • They are noisy.
  • They make you fat.
  • They smell bad.
  • When you pay for gas, most of the money goes directly into the pockets of a man named Ahmoud who takes baths in goat milk with his 12 hot wives while laughing and chomping on cigars.
  • You cannot drink and drive. I avoid any activity that prevents me from drinking.
Every year Montreal greets the F1 racing competition, and every year it's the same scene. It's a flurry of gold-diggers, business people, phonies, revving engines, booth babes and other douchebaggeries. It's like Sodom and Gomorrah all over again, representing all that is wrong about modern society - mainly extreme materialism, chauvinism and fluorescent colors.

Humanity will not survive.

The only thing that sucks more than cars is boats, and the only cool car ever was Ecto-1, the Ghostbusters car. God bless Dan Aykroyd for that.