Yes, imagine that.  I need sensitivity training. Never thought I’d see the day.  If I never offend anyone again after today, I apologize to those who enjoy seeing me do it. Until of course I pick the one topic that offends you and then you hate my guts.

Boy, isn’t humanity an interesting and hypocritical species, huh

Regardless of my own personal issues, today is Remembrance Day.  This is probably the most important day all year in my opinion.  Why is that? I’ll tell you. This is the day we pay homage to those who fought, and fight, bravely to make and keep this free western world of ours free.

Today, myself, and most of the people reading my drivel are living one one of the two BEST countries on earth, bar none.  We are the among the privileged few who can make any of our wants, hopes and dreams come true.  We have the unique ability to create our own opportunities and make them come true with nothing more than smarts, planning and hard work.

The majority of the other countries on this planet will not give you anywhere close to that opportunity.

That doens’t come free, it doesn’t even come cheap.  Like it or not, our comrades fight and die to make it that way and keep it that way.  As much as no one likes war, it is an inevitability among our species.  It has been that way all through history and it will continue to be that way.

My good job, my running water and heat, the food in my belly and the opportunity even to be writing this are due to somebody who I don’t know, and will never meet, fighting for it on my behalf.

I don’t care what your beliefs are. I don’t care if you blatantly picket our governments to stop the fighting with no knowledge or care of the reasons or necessities of it (along with no knowledge of deodorant either, you stupid hippies). Everyone, EVERYONE take this day to reflect what you have and respect those who make it possible.

Respect if you have change in your pocket and a roof over your head, you are doing better than 90% of anyone else on this planet.

Respect our respective welfare systems; as dysfunctional as they may be, your society will keep you fed.  Most other places will let you starve.

Respect the relative freedom of speech that you have.

Most of all, respect that the war that has been the price we’ve paid has been kept off of our soil, keeping our families safe.

Today, I wear my poppy with pride. To all who keep my freedom at such a great cost, I thank you with all my heart.

I love the childlike outlook on life. How they always seem to be happy. Maybe that’s not love, more like jealousy, how easy it is for most of them to be happy.

Also, I love the noises they make when they are excited. DAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGHHHHHHH! hehehe.  A person with downs syndrome in a theater will turn an action movie into a comedy with each explosion, fight scene, or car chase.

Seriously, how can you not love a face like this:

Dargh! You're still going to hell Spaz! Dargh!

Now, let’s talk about the special olympics, specifically when it comes to the weight lifting competitions.  I think that people with downs syndrome are in there not because of their syndrome, but because they have an unfair advantage. Let me explain.

Downs syndrome kids have SUPER STRENGTH.  In my circle of insensitive assholes, we refer to that as ‘retard strength’.

In other words, if you have retard strength, you cannot compete in regular olympics because of the unfair advantage.

Therefore, downies are NOT in the special olympics because they have funny faces, limited mental capacity and an unnaturally bright outlook on life; no, they’re there so they don’t make the ‘normal’ weightlifters look sily.

Also, and this is just for the ladies, I understand there’s something called ‘retard penis’ and it’s HUGE.

You’re welcome.

Ok, the blow jobs also come with anal sex and it’s called rape so that might not be so good.  Moving on.

Today I’d like to talk about the injustice of the Canadian government towards men by making more and more monetary denominations coin instead of paper.

How does this do injustice by men? Let me explain.

Men only have pockets to carry things with. Women have purses. Gay men have man purses and they do not count.

So when a man buys something and makes change, the change must either go into his pocket or into the little change purse in his wallet. Both are annoying and uncomfortable. Especially all the change in your pocket bouncing off your nearest testicle.  THAT hurts.

So what does said man do with his newly aquired testicle tortures? Well, he gives it to his wife or giflfriend to hold onto.  They put it in their purse and it’s never seen by the man again.

Now, the Canadian government has been making more and more coin money. First the one dollar coin, now there’s a two dollar coin. There’s talks of making a five dollar coin.  All of which dissapear into the she-bitches purse.

We all know that they who hold the monies hold the power.   And the Canadian government is assuring that the women amass all the weath, slowly, silly coin by silly coin, therefore eventually aquiring all the money and therefore all the power.

I call Injustice!

As if women didn’t have enough power by holding the vagina.

Sheesh.

Feminists.  Rabid, flaming upset feminists.  Once upon a time, here in Ontario, a feminist noticed that if a man walked around without a shirt on, it’s ok. But if a WOMAN hung her boobs out, it was indecent exposure!

Well, this just cannot do! After all, only the MAN considers breasts a sexual organ.  Breasts are meant to feed babies, and if it’s hot out, then a woman should be able to take her shirt off too!

On and on droned the rabid lesbians feminists, bugging our overly liberal government who obviously had nothing better to do, you know, like eliminating the deficit or reducing unemployment.

And lo, the Ontario law was passed allowing women to hang their boobs in the breeze.

So after the law was passed, I believe that there was one nasty biker chick to expose her boobs on the back of a harley, maybe twice ever.

What a fucking waste. I call injustice!

After all the hard work that the disgusting bulldykes women’s lib movement did to free their masses, why have I not seen a single hanging boob?

I propose a call to justice! Remove your shirts and bras! Free women of the united states, come to my Province and bare your chest (in a non sexual manner, of course!).

Don’t make the women’s injustice league hypocrites.  You have a right to bare breasts, now lets’ see those udders ladies!

Thank you in advance.

You see, I took a coworker to a hypnotist show.  A real good one.  I mean, this guy had a fat man in the crowd whip out his boobs thinking the place was a strip club and he was the main event.

I feel sorry for the poor guy who ended up wearing the fat man’s stained “panties”.

But I digress.

We all had a good laugh over my poor, simple minded co worker as the hypnotist convinced him he was a seagull.  What a good show it was too, with this guy loudly saying ‘CAW! CAW!’ while pecking at french fries and chicken wing bones people started throwing at him.  The hypnotist snapped his fingers and my friend was back to his normal self, no worse for the wear, and wondering why he was covered with bar food.

It wasn’t over. It was far from over.

You see, as the weeks went by we started noticing the drop ceiling at work.  It seems that somebody started moving the tiles leaving open spaces at various locations. Every night the custodian would replace them, only to have more moved tiles at different locations the very next day.

Here’s the thing; My coworker still believed he was a seagull.  I mean, he could function in the everyday but in the back of his head, he was a seagull.

One day it happened.  He found the spot. The very perfect spot, with the very perfect target.  It was in one of the managers offices.  He was an uppity snob that had a bald head and always wore expensive suits, the very perfect victim of what was about to happen.

I watched the whole thing unfold.  I heard the ‘CAW CAW!’.  I saw the tile slide open. I saw the bare bum emerge, it’s owner perched on one of the drop ceiling supports, just like the bird he thought he was.  And like it’s namesake, this human seagull LET FLY.

But it wasn’t any normal human poo. No, not at all. You see, it seemed that in order to most accurately reproduce the color and consistency of bird poo, our fine featherless friend had eaten nothing but yogurt for WEEKS.

Needless to say the reaction was priceless.

Yes, I will be buying a portable video camera for the next time. You’re welcome.

The images of her frail withered body without a brain are disturbing, yes. I will always remember her as the strong, vibrant, funny and witty woman she was before this disease raveged her body and soul.  That’s the woman she was, and that’s the woman I will hold a picture of in my head until the day I die.

I did something that’s so typically me – ignore policy. You see, apparently live cell phones can screw up life sustaining machines in the ICU. I was in the ICU.  I got a call.  My cell phone was destroyed and the subsequent beating I got from the 400 lb orderly landed me in the very same ICU for a few days.

Here’s my offer for help. You see, I’m such a buffoon, a complete and total ignorant lout, a fuck up of the utmost level, that I would accidentally do what you needed me to, just by hanging out with me.

What I will not do is accidentally kill loved ones.  Sorry, you go to jail for that one yourself, my friend.  I will do many other things, however.

Do you have a case of hoof in mouth disease? Need to impress the boss/client/significant other/etc. on a special day? Bring me along. I just cannot keep my foot out of my mouth and you’ll look completely polished by comparison.

Are you morbidly obese? I know you are because one out of every two North Americans is!  I can help with that.  Trying to push that creamy chocolate eclair into your fat maw?  I’ll probably sneeze on it before it gets to your fat trap.  My normal disgusting meal conversations and propensity to fart seconds after eating any nourishment will ensure your caloric intake drops to a normal human level. You’ll be thin in no time!

Have to look good by comparison for a time? I’m your man!

Need to distract the cops? Slip me a weed brownie and you have your escape.

There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for a buck.  Well, 20 bucks an hour, say.

Let me know how my fuckupidness can help you, just contact me, ok?

Thanks.

I need the money.

Just like any other human (especially a human female), she’s a manipulative little bitch.  She asks to go outside, and as we get upstairs, she turns and chews on a bone instead. She just wanted to see if she could get me out of the chair.  When she wants to come in, she barks. But she won’t come in until you offer her a cookie, which of course, she gets.  Let’s not forget the way she leaves half eaten beetles and cicadas squirming about the house, you know, to save them for later.  I tolerate it, all of it.

I have recently learned that despite not actually wearing pants, dogs can poop themselves.  Yes, it’s possible.

You see, I picked Jinx well.  Ever since being a little pup, she has had the ability to eat 3 ounces of kibble and make 6 ounces poop, just like me.  Ok, well, it’s not 3 ounces of kibble with me.  It’s more like 8, I’m a much bigger animal. Don’t judge, times are tough and kibble is cheap.

Moving on.

There’s two things that Jinx MUST have every day, besides kibble, denta stix and every one’s undying attention.  The first is a bout of our favorite game of “You smack me in the face and I bite your hand”.  She LOVES this game and can keep it up for hours, mostly because she always wins.  The second is a walk. She has to have one every day, if only to mark her territory.  Yes, this bitch lifts her leg to keep her ‘hood’ hers.

It was on one of these walks where I discovered a pantless animal can poop themselves.  As she usually does, she turned three times, walked three paces, turned three times again, walked another few paces, then bent to poop.

The first two were the pretend poops to throw me off guard. She’s tricky like that.

She started straining, and grunting, and flexing her little bum. It was then that I knew this was going to be a big one. No ordinary poo, but the magical poo that makes a walrus sized load from a terrier sized bum, poor dog.

But it didn’t drop to the ground as it normally did.  No, this time it started to curl and didn’t stop. It curled right around and around and stuck to her little bum so bad she couldn’t lower her tail or even attempt to leave the squat.

She did what anyone in this position might do.  She did a bum wiggle. She wiggled here and there and up and down and side to side. The poop wiggled too but wouldn’t leave.  She then tried the one foot stomp.  A little wiggle from the poop but no dice.  She then did the bull riders buck, but that turd was stuck there for good.  Yup, she shit herself and she shit herself good.

It was then that I got the look, and I knew exactly what it meant:

Yup, you know it. I am Jinx’s bitch, and she’s got me wrapped around her little paw.  Because she knows that she can poop herself in public and I’d clean it up for her.

But just so you all know, after I came out of the coffee shop washroom where I used their TP to wipe my dogs ass, I bought a coffee. Because I’m a good man like that.

After reading their blog (for which they can’t even afford the $10 for a proper domain name), I decided to submit. Why, because I was looking for validation? Because I wanted them to give me pointers on how to improve? No, I knew that wouldn’t happen.

Sure, if they like you they can give some pretty good advice. But if they don’t like you, they regress into the mental capacity of bitter twelve year olds with an impressive lexicon of Websters like grammar and verbiage.

As my loyal readers might remember from my foray into P.E.T.A and the vegitarians, there’s nothing I like more than seeing idiots spew verbal diarrhea at what they think is my expense.  I even got a death threat from one of the Ask zombies! The entertainment value is absolutely precious.

If you have a blog that’s full of teenaged angst, emotional instability, or depressing real life antics, submit it to Ask and Ye Shall Receive.  You might get some good pointers on blog layout, design and perhaps even grammar and writing style.  If you have any other type of blog, and want a laugh, submit it too.  You’ll see some reasonably intelligent people revert into a complete and utter children. They’ll make assumptions about you and your life, even if what you write about is complete and utter fiction.  They will do their best to insult you personally too.  It’s pure entertainment value.

I think the most entertaining thing is the Ask zombies.  They have a group of people who nod their heads like bobble dolls to whatever the reviewers say, and even go as far as to insult your READERS, not just you!

If it’s not entertainment you’re looking for, then go for the validation. If the people at Ask don’t like your blog to the point they revert to babyish insults and outright assumptions, that means you are actually pretty good.

But don’t just take my word for it, try it for yourself.  You might just like it!