Archive for the 'Canadian idiot' Category


Canada in Dire Straits: Ban this!

Canada bans radio play of Money for Nothing after receiving complaint.

I want some…

I want some Sa-ni-ty….

Now look at them losers, that’s the way you do it
They ban a song and say it’s good for me
Now that’s just stupid.  That’s a load of bullshit
Banning some music – next they’ll come for me

Now that’s just senseless. Still they’re gonna do it.
Lemme tell ya: they’re just plain dumb
Maybe save a sister from some hurting feelings
Maybe save a sister from some bum

A lotta pissed off radio DJ’s
Can’t play that music any more
Gotta groove on shit like Patio Lanterns
That kinda music make you wanna just heave

That little redneck with the earring and the make-up
Yeah buddy, that’s what he wears
That little redneck’s got his own pickup truck
That little redneck he’s been puttin’ on airs

Canada should learn to drop the PC
They shoulda learned that songs don’t kill
Look at that loser, he’s gotta whine to some bureaucrat, man
And we all pay the bill

And he’s up there.  What’s that? More whining noises?
They say it’s to protect sensibilities
Now that’s just stupid.  That’s a load of bullshit
Banning some music – next they’ll come for me


Search this!

Doctor, I said on my last trip to the shrink.  My wife has histrionic personality disorder.

What makes you think that?

Last night while stoned on camel dung hash she kept repeating, How do you get this damn thing to stop blinking?  She was trying to figure out how to make her Tamagotchi have sex.

Is she American? he asked.

No, I said.  As a matter of fact, she thinks she’s Queen Elizabeth, queen of fucking everything.  My wife whips me when I disobey, too. Imagine – she has me whipped bloody!

Maybe she’s the self you have to live with, he said with a sigh.

What do you mean? I asked.

Well, he said, shifting in his seat.  Look at Charlotte Roche, author of Wetlands.  She once wrote a book about Angela Merkel naked in the sauna.  Like some landscape artist on crack in London, it was a surreal collage of naked pictures of girls with tube breasts, American females totally shaved in German saunas, pictures of zoo animals with buggy eyes copulating while making screaming granny sounds, nude klingons, photos of naked ladies and girls from Squamish, sex in wheelchair pictures, photos of spanking all over Europe, ending with helpful tips on how to make your own shank out of a toothbrush and things to alleviate cramp.

Look, I said, I couldn’t care less about Charlotte Roche’s chaotic nightmare, saunas or Angela Merkel’s butt.   I’m worried about my wife!  Just the other day she came out with: I’m so British, I shit the queen!

Perhaps you should bring your wife’s cuddly butt into the office next time, he said.

I would, I said, but it might be easier to drag her to a cave dwelling in Capadoccia or skating on canals in Holland.

Hmmm… let’s deal with your wife when the time comes.  You aren’t thinking about quitting blogging are you? he suddenly asked.

What? What gives you that idea?

You, Canadian skier Ian, may be the author of more than 300 posts ranging from chess and Hitler to Dutch canal winter skating,  but you’re starting to look like a Canadian idiot.   An EasyJet crashing into Big Ben wouldn’t make half the mess this blog is turning into.  You’ve got everything from how to make a bike look crappy and the dangers of ipods in saunas all the way to 12-year-olds buying condoms and a nude olive run video clip.

Besides, you hardly ever post lately, and when you do, it’s some take on something that happened 30 years ago.

Don’t give me any of your putrid paranoia! I said. I never set out to write the definitive answer to everything like some Greenland girls’ nude blog.  Those are just search terms that landed here!  And it’s not just text searches, either.  Most of them cough up photos via google image searches.

Really? he said, perking up.   You mean if you post photos, and stick tags on them, they will show up in searches?

Sure, I said.  Everyone knows that, even Derbyshire nude grannies, Canada’s most toxic waste dump/flute player or a jobless bum.  Besides, the less often I post, the more hits I get.  Go figure!

Well, he said with a sigh.  The hour’s up.  Same time next week?

Why not? I said.  I hope by then you’ll have done something about the reading selection in your waiting room.  Monocle Magazine is shit, and the “little red book” of Mao, 1968 is really out of date, don’t you think?  You should subscribe to magazines that answer life’s imponderables, things like what if the world stops spinning, or is nine too young to have a baby?

No way, he said.  To pass the time in a waiting room, it’s much better to read all about camel penis and skunk families in Montreal while peeking at pictures of mausi naked.  Her oldest got sprayed by a skunk, you know.

Just in case you’ve never read my sidebar, every line in this post is drawn from a search that coughed up this blog – most often as an image search.


ipod mini discovery stuns archaeologists

This Definitely Not the Daily News special report is dedicated to Azahar of casa az fame, who is today celebrating the start of her third year of blogging and who a few weeks back in the midst of a tech consumption frenzy stopped to ask me, “What’s an iPod mini?”

by Elmer Schmedlapp
Seattle (DNTN) A team of archaeologists is attempting to decipher the contents of a recently discovered iPod mini to see if knowledge contained on the ancient device can give scientists insights into lost technologies and long-forgotten music listening practices.

The mini, which apparently fell behind the bookshelf of Walla Walla, Washington resident Wanda Woodsworth while Woodsworth was out walking one wet Wednesday in winter, 2005, had been given up for lost ever since.

Woodsworth recovered the long-dead Apple product last week while moving furniture.

“It had been so long, I didn’t recognise it for what it was at first” said Wordsworth, “so I phoned the university. They got really excited, told me not to touch it until experts could identify it, then evaluate its contents. ”

The mini was a sleek, brushed-metal device which first appeard in January, 2004. It was suddenly pulled from the market 20 months later by iPod maker Apple because its relatively small 4 or 6GB size and miniature hard drive storage system was deemed “so last Thursday” by a bunch of 20-something shitheads sitting around a table at Silicon Valley focus group session.

“It was like, meh, whatever, get rid of it, you know?” said Charles “Chuck” Biscuits, a group member. “We thought, hey, like, you know. Yeah.”

Apple abandoned the mini barely six months after releasing a second-generation model amid cries of protest from Apple store salespeople, who this reporter can assure you once told him the mini was the best iPod ever produced.

“It was such a perfect design, easy to read display, great heft to it in the palm of your hand,” said Apple store owner Filbert McNutt. “Sure their battery life sucked, but if it died, you still had one great-looking paperweight. We were selling them so fast, we couldn’t stock ’em, and then – Bang! Gone. I forget what they even looked like.”

One scientist at the university lab where the mini is being dissected said her team is excited at what they might find on the ancient personal audio player.

“The world has just so moved on since 2004,” said researcher Marla Baverstock. “To think that the ancients were actually willing to pay good money for iPods with monochrome displays, no video capability, and a spinning hard drive! How utterly desperate those times must have been.”

Cultural anthropologists are also looking forward to analysing the song selection stored on the mini’s drive. They say it’s an artefact which will give clues as to how the world might have been enjoying some down time while contemplating the horror of another four years of the George W. Bush administration.

“It was a unique time for music, pop culture, and world history in general,” said ET cultural and sexual deviations beat reporter Adda Dictomy.

“The number of people with a close-up view of Britney Spears’ and Paris Hilton’s crotch was still in the low four figures instead of the billions now thanks to the Internet, Anna Nicole Smith was still trying to convince everybody that her years of wiping the bum of a billionaire 70 years her senior was out of sheer love, SUV drivers were bitching about gas prices half the level they’re at now and people living in trailer parks and working at Burger King were being flim-flammed into half-million dollar mortgages so they could live in their dream home for a few months, then have it pulled out from under them.

Gosh, those were the days.”

© 2008 lettershometoyou


Another lesson learned

Don’t go looking for your glasses in the dark.



Really looking forward to seeing the world though an aquarium tank for the next week or two ’til the new pair is in.

© 2008 lettershometoyou


Twenty-four things about the last 24 hours

1. Our friend’s birthday party was a success. Many people that I didn’t know, some of whom I now do.

2. I don’t remember any of their names. I’m like that.

3. We copied out our Page 50 quotations and put them on a billboard covering an entire wall.

4. Mine was the only one in English. It also ran the longest. I like Paul Theroux very much.

5. I managed to copy down a few others. I hope to translate them over the next day or so.

6. The evening flowed like the meanderings of a slow-moving river stretching back many years.

7. At one point, I came up behind a beautiful woman, put my arms around her, kissed her on the neck, told her she was beautiful and that I loved what she was wearing.

8. That woman was my wife.

9. I started off with champagne and then shifted to beer. Sometimes I’m downwardly mobile.

10. After we had dinner, some got up and started to play music. Two were on guitar, another on electric piano, while two sang.

11. All the songs were in English, but everyone knew the words. I tried not to sing too loudly when they played the Beatles tunes.

12. We rode our bikes there. On the way home, there was a minor earthquake.

13. As I was riding along, the ground shifted. This made me lose my balance.

14. I was instantly reminded how much it hurts when flesh hits pavement.

15. My brand-new glasses got bent all out of shape, to boot.

16. K put on a band-aid when we got home to stop the bleeding. I think my leather jacket needs dry cleaning now.

17. Sometimes I think I’m the world’s oldest teenager.

18. I learned back when I was 15 not to mix different types of booze, and never drink the last one no matter how much you want it.

19. Sometimes I wonder if I’m setting a good example for my 10-year-old.

20. Those last three are just musings, but I’m leaving them in anyway.

21. I just remembered that I wrote two haikus to Haikus yesterday morning and can be found at the bottom of this post’s comments list. I hope he doesn’t think I’m a Canadian idiot.

22. I am dreading the sunrise, because that just means it will be closer to the time I have to head to work.

23. In the last 24 hours, I also had some content stolen from this blog. The thief is a splogger. They are nasty creatures.

24. I sent them a polite request to take my content down off their site. Most Canadians are polite, and mean what they say. Beware of exceptions.


Advice column debuts, world stops spinning

Dear Bruce,

You might have noticed that this space has changed somewhat since the last time you opened the envelope. I’ve added something I’ll admit is blatantly derivative but what the hell. I intend to have fun with my advice column even if I do have to invent the queries myself. The name you will of course recognise as my nickname in High School combined with a word which you as a student of German will immediately recognise, all wrapped up in a loose anagram of the name of that uptight biddy whose widely syndicated column we used to chortle over every day in the Living section of the Vancouver Sun.

She, by the way, was one of the reasons my customers on that route I took over from you often had their paper delivered a few minutes later than they might have been. On days it wasn’t pouring with rain or if I wasn’t rushing through to get home to play street hockey before nightfall and if their damn dog was tied up, I would take a break on Greenlee’s porch and read her column. Funny uncles? Our uncles were funny, but they weren’t that funny…

I still do something similar to that today. Der Spiegel lands on my desk once a week with a crashing thud, but instead of plodding through the latest ups n downs of German Political Life and the Sorry State of the World, I immediately turn to the left-hand column on the back page for the latest reader-submitted nonsense culled from various German news and advertising sources. Something like Jay Leno’s headlines thingy, and often just as hilarious. If I find a gem or two in the next little while, I’ll let you know.  Melanie, tell me about railway tracks and Pierre Elliot Trudeau.  Thank you.

Headlines I still remember from paper-boy days were: Ike Dead, Soviets invade Czechs, Man Walks on Moon, Freighter Rams Ferry in Active Pass (the ship was named after a poet!) They Did It (’72 Canada -Russia series) and Nixon Resigns, the latter two of which I found most satisfactory indeed. Do you recall the four of us visiting the press room at 2215 Granville Street Vancouver 9, BC at the invitation of the circulation manager? The Vietnam War was still raging because I recall reading wire stories on it as they rattled off the Sun’s telex printer.

You’ll also notice the page entitled En francais, s’il vous plaît. (Apologies, I can’t find the frickin’ cedille on this laptop.) Anyway, it’s something I’ll be writing occasionally as an outlet for a part of me that hasn’t had much to work on these past 10 years living on the Teutonic side of the Rhine. It is in no way to be construed as exclusionistique, mon frère. You can even contribute! I know Gordon will: Quelle heure est-il maintenant, ou pas?



© 2007 lettershometoyou

The banner photograph shows the town of Britannia Beach, BC, Canada, where I grew up. It's home. But I don't live there anymore.

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britbeach / at / yahoo dot ca

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