ISSUE 08-22

PRETENTIOUS ROCK STAR POSES, #2



Hi, I’m Chris Martin. When I’m not writing overwrought lyrics accompanied by melancholy piano melodies, I use my spare time to care about the environment, right? In order to feel better about jetting around the world, I planted 25,000 trees, somewhere in India or something. This carbon off-set thing is great for wealthy people, right? Ah, but ‘ere’s the rub - it turns out all my trees died because they aren’t native to the region. But instead of asking for a full refund, I’m going to chalk it up to experience. I mean, I snagged Gwyneth Paltrow, so I’ve got enough luck for one lifetime, right? Hey, why are you snickering? Are you laughing at me? (cue melancholy piano melody) You… are…


New Feature! Doomed To Fizzle Out
EQUALLY PLAUSIBLE?



Things found in a favorite scene from Boogie Nights, and equally plausible: the backstage rider at a Van Halen concert, circa 1983?

*a lot of cocaine
*a half-kilo of baking soda, presented as cocaine
*a whole lotta scotch and beer
*a filthy silk bathrobe
*a shirtless Chinese boy throwing firecrackers
*(1) mix tape
*(6) peacocks
*(4) semi-automatic handguns
*a siren
*an Asian woman dressed as a bunny rabbit


The end is near! Which end? Who cares!
PICKETS PROGRESS

My disdain for the J’s flows uncertainly, like live streaming video on a woefully underpowered computer.

While in his very own words he knows everything about fence-building, and emphatically stated at least twice that he needed no help (until he needed help), and while he says he has an even more talented brother who would ensure the entire fence went up in three hours, in the end, it has been just Todd and Bitchelle building the fence over a period of three weeks, consistently demonstrating that they are as apt for fence-building as my great-great-great grandfather Rudy Smallwood, who legend has it was born without arms, eyes, or a frontal lobe, but still became a Father of Confederation('s tobacco spit can holder, and don't ask what he held it with).

Mrs. Joey had a brief but important conversation with the Bob Vila-wannabes on the weekend. She asked Todd to give us four or five pickets to finish the very last part of the fence. He wondered why, and she reminded him that if he finished off the fence himself, he wouldn’t be able to get back in his yard. He looked at her like she’d spoken in gibberish, but then went “Ohhhh….yeah.”

Then she asked them what kind of stain they wanted to put on their side of the fence. It wouldn’t need any stain, said Mrs. J, because we bought treated wood, therefore making it maintenance-free. Mrs. Joey patiently explained that the treated part wears off with time. “Ohhhhhhh… I see.”


Cute kitty says: "Stain your f***ing fence, you c*ckholsters!"


Got a whole lotta legacy…
THIS STADIUM PROPOSAL BETTER WORK…

I really hope David Asper gets his way and has his new stadium built at the U of M. He drunk-dialled me around 11:30 last night and said:

“If it doesn’t get built at the university, it’s getting built in your backyard. That’s right, inside your backyard, beeyotch.” –click-

There’s no way! I mean how could he – ohh, right, he’s David Asper, and he can do anything he sets his deluded ego, I mean mind to, including the financing of massive megaprojects with money he doesn’t have. I read that he’s financing a hundred mil, but his personal worth is something like eight bucks. Huh? And how do you pay off a stadium with the rent revenue from a strip mall? You better hope your renters sell a lot of Timbits and t-shirts, David…


Some local fans are already picking out their
wardrobe for the Big Day...

Now, I may have gotten a C-minus in Intro Economics, and I might have dropped out of my Finance For Idiots class before the end of the first week, but methinks the Aspers are some creative budgeteers. Did you know that the Human Rights Museum being planned by his sister Gail has been on the books for four years at a budget of $290 million in 2004 dollars. Gail swears it will still come in on that budget, and the earth hasn’t even been turned yet.

I guess I’ll be getting her drunk-dial sometime soon…


Pass him his stool softener, please
WHAT PASSES FOR “EDGY” IN WINNIPEG RADIO…

"Hi, I’m CJOB news director and infamous curmudgeon Vic Grant, and it’s time for a daily feature known as Excuse Me?

Now, if you’re anything like me (and really, why else would you be listening to this station), you remember that life used to be a whole lot better in our country, back in the day.

For instance, remember when all the cab drivers were white? I do. But thanks to our flimsy immigration policies, the same people driving our cabs are also flying our planes into our buildings, and I don’t like that one bit.

And do you remember a time when our First Nations folk were only seen on The Beachcombers television show? I do. But now, thanks to the closure of all the residential schools, they’re prowling our streets and stealing empty aerosol containers from our garbage cans, a far cry from those honourable days when you could count on them to help ol’ Bruno Gerussi as he kept Relic from stealing his logs.

And what’s with women running for higher office? I have yet to hear how they’re
going to find the time to make my dinner and fetch my slippers while they’re running the country. Ladies, we already gave you the vote, so please don’t start getting greedy on us.

And what’s with the fruits? Back in my day, if you caught a guy checking you out in the locker room, you assembled a gang of your friends, and then you smacked the sickness right out of him. And afterward, he thanked you for it.

And finally, what are those kids doing on my lawn? Sure, they might not be on my lawn at this very moment, but right as rain, they’re going to be on it at some point. Listening to their heavy metal, smoking their drugs, and worshipping Satan, their reckless debauchery on full display. It’s like our authority figures have fallen asleep at the controls. It’s as if parents, priests, and school principals forgot that belts are for more than just holding up your pants.

Bah! We (and you know the very specific “we” to whom I refer) are doomed. I’m Vic Grant."

The opinions expressed by Vic Grant are exactly, precisely those of CJOB.


And finally!
THIS PICTURE BEGS FOR A CAPTION…