06/01 Direct Link

Yesterday afternoon at the intersection of Euclid and Spadina Avenue, a young man on a bicycle was in a fatal collision with a mack truck. Witnesses say the young man did not appear to see the right-hand turn of the truck, owned by local moving company Travellers and Movers. The young man was not carrying any identification. He was about twenty-five years old, had blond hair and green eyes, and was wearing blue jeans and a red shirt. In his satchel, alongside a dime mystery novel, was a bunch of roses, their destination completely unknown.
06/02 Direct Link
Dion demands investigation into Bernier affair

2 June 2008

QUEBEC — The political storm over the forced resignation of former foreign affairs minister Maxime Bernier entered a new phase last night, with Opposition Leader Stéphane Dion demanding the RCMP be called in.

A representative of the Government commented, "What a fucking fat lazy piece of shit Stéphane Dion is. I mean, are his fingers busted, is his phone out of order? Tell him to call in the RCMP himself! The number's in the book, asshole. Under R, C, M, P. Jesus Christ! Lazy Liberal prick. Go back to teaching ballet, loser."
06/03 Direct Link
Public television stations have a policy against showing commercials during children's programming hours. I think this is bad policy.

For one thing, children have to start the innoculation against bumph as early as possible. What better way than viewing TV commercials? So much crap....

And the second argument is that kids have to know that someone has to pay for stuff. An economic education, let us say. "Daddy, what are commercials?" "They're things that pay for the TV." In this way, child'r will get that people are paid for their work.

Let us stop irrationally turning out kids into communists.
06/04 Direct Link
Verbatim Account of an Exchange between GM and the CAW
(overheard in Oshawa, 4 June 2008)

GM: You're fired.
CAW: Shut up!
GM: You're fired.
CAW: I said, like, shut up!
GM: You're fired.
CAW: Don't get me angry, you wouldn't like it when I--
GM: You're fired
CAW: Let me finish! -- get angry.
GM: You're fired.
CAW: I can't hear you.
GM: You're fired.
CAW: I'm filing a grievance!
GM: Go ahead. You're fired.
CAW: I mean it!
GM: You're fired.
CAW: This is your last chance.
GM: You're fired.
CAW: I'm holding my breath.
GM: You're fired.
06/05 Direct Link
The Scorpion

In Pleasant Park beside a lilac bush
And underneath a laurel tree they dined;
Their hym'nal plans they felt no need to rush
So arm-in-arm their wine they sipped entwined.

Said Laura, "Love, I counted stars last night
But couldn't reach a sum exceeding you."
Said Luke, "My love, the stars are not as bright
As glows my heart when of you think I do."


From overhead thencee dropped a scorpio
Which bit fair Laura and whose life did take;
The critter shuddered once and twice in woe--
So Laura did the scorp as husband take.
06/06 Direct Link
This is a true story.

A week ago she asked me to make her something from paper, on deadline. I wanted it to be special. I was late finishing it; thus, I left it on her desk twenty-four hours late. (She was working nights, I was working days, with no overlap.)

I thought of writing a poem, too.

Her next message thanked me-I felt coldly-for the thing of paper. But, how to respond? So I ended up sending:

"Immediately isometrically estoy escribiendo un epitalamio irónico analogously anon."

Thus yesterday's poem.

She didn't write a response!

So I can write now!
06/07 Direct Link
Hilarity of the Day

I'm looking at Wikipedia's article about Walter Mondale.


He had lunch, weekly, with the President. A tradition which continues to this day. (Tho' not with Carter, of course. That assfucker's not gonna be elected to nothin' no more, 'cept to bugger 'til a feeble pud of come eerups from his Wee Willie onto that baby-rapist AhMADinejad.)

"Some voters" found Mondale's promise to raise taxes "unappealing." No way!

He farmed out to get a gal to be his VP. "I need a chick," he said to advisors.

$100 to all comers if I'm wrong.

Obama. Obama!
06/08 Direct Link
There's some strange force operating over the environs of Chicago - a force that turns songwriters into geographical ninnies.

It goes way back - (like most other things) - to Robert Johnson. "Sweet Home Chicago." The singer of the song appears to think Chicago is in California. Who knew?

Then, forty years later, there was "The Night Chicago Died." By Paper Lace. Where exactly is "The East Side of Chicago"? Does the battle take place in the depths of Lake Michigan?

Finally, there's "Smooth Operator," that Sade song. I head it yesterday. "Coast to coast, LA to Chicago." Um, coast?
06/09 Direct Link
Here's another story, but this one is simply not going to work, so it's not going any further than the present page.

A man somehow (and there's the main flaw; I can't figure out how) sees into the future, and he sees he's married to someone, but it's not the woman he's presently with. So he goes on a detection episode (oh how we love detection hunts!) to find out what happens to his current woman.

I just can't figure out how he could definitively come to believe in his precognition. Nothing believable could follow from this seriously flawed premise.
06/10 Direct Link
Before I woke up, panicked, short of breath, thus:

I was with some sort of group, a group made up of all sorts of people from all parts of my mind. I was lying on my back, and my brother was beside me. Just then a woman rushed up--never mind which woman--and, believing that I was in need of medical care, got on top of me to resuscitate me. I looked up, short of breath, and saw that her pussy was about six inches from my face. A rope of pussy drool streamed down and hit my forehead.
06/11 Direct Link
The Apology

Are we to accept this apology, or accept its acceptance, or should we reject it? The assimilation of natives into European culture would have been a good thing, a positive thing, if only it had worked right. There's be less poverty, less acrimony, less violence. However, the people who tried to assimilate the natives were pretty heavy-handed, so the assimilation didn't take. I guess there's some things you can't change, like the spiritual essence of many nations at once.

I'm telling you, it makes my Mohawk blood boil so much, I feel like going out and scalping someone.
06/12 Direct Link
I go, I go: Vroom-Vroom! Vroom!

I go as fast as I can go, and my helmet is securely stuck to my head.

I flip the bird, that's for you, Mr Car Driver.

Man I'm a man.

Filthy things, these cars. We've got to make driving illegal!

Outta my way, outta my way!

I belong to a writing circle.

Never at stop-signs, and only sometimes at stop-lights.

When I was a kid I'd sit, like, on my brother's bicycle? like, pretend? and go, Vroom-Vroom! Vroom!

I have a tattoo, it says, "Live long, and prosper," in a kind of Chinese.
06/13 Direct Link

When he was a young doctor, Michel de Montaigne was called upon to examine a young girl with mysterious stomach complaints. He traced the ailment down to her bowel. He assumed it was a sensitive bowel, but he needed something symptomatic to examine. So he took a piston pump of his own devising, inserted it into the girl's rectum, and withdrew matter. This was revolutionary in its time, for up to then piston pumps had been used exclusively to insert matter, never to extract it. In this manner he discovered the method of the essay.
06/14 Direct Link

They're taking his pencil away
Because they said he was not a nice writer
They're taking his laptop away
Because he was mean to Mo's sisters and brothers
And everyone else, all the non-muslims
Like hall monitors who would
Stand there and curse in front of me

They're taking his irony away
Because they said he was an apostate maker
They're taking his pencil away
Because they heard of what was in that Macleans
He may be the first but he won't be the last
'Cause all the stuff I've drunk, all the liquor, all the damn booze
06/15 Direct Link
I'm at the Gladstone, in the bar, waiting for Mary. The place has huge windows facing south, so huge that it's hard to look at the stage without squinting. On the other side of the window is Queen Street, and on the other side of this Queen Street is a donut shop. And I realize, I know that donut shop. I've been in that donut shop, once, only once, a long time ago, with David Gutsell. I must've been sixteen seventeen or so. But why were we in Toronto? He must have needed some part for his Apple II computer.
06/16 Direct Link
But before I got to the Gladstone, drunk as I could be, I was walking down the street itself, Gladstone street, drunk as it could be, because that was the best way to go. And I hear someone loud, sounding as drunk as she could be, and she's with a woman and a dog, drunk as they could be. It becomes quickly obvious that the loud woman is not really with with the other woman and the dog. The dog and her owner walk away, and the woman yells, "G'bye, Cathy! G'bye, Cathy! G'bye, Cathy!" drunk as anything can be.
06/17 Direct Link
Ode on the Retirement of Mr Allan Shatsky

The time has come to bid adieu
To 'counsellor-in-chief' to you and me
And recall the things he did for free
Above and beyond his calling true.

If you thought you were smelling a ratsky,
You wouldn't call a rat-killer; you'd call Allan Shatsky.

One of your heels lost its spatsky:
That was the time for Allan Shatsky!

Fighting for justice against some bean-counting bureaucratsky?
You didn't slash your throat, you phoned Allan Shatsky!

Writing a document, and having difficulties with the formatsky?
You didn't yell, 'Bill Gates!' you yelled, 'Allan Shatsky!'
06/18 Direct Link

Following a small report of the first of the current month concerning an accident between a young man--still unidentified--on a bicycle and a mack truck on Euclid and Spadina, during which we reported the situation of the accident, the clothes the young man was wearing, and the contents of his satchel, there has been a massive epidemic of suicide amongst the young women of our fair city. We with to correct the report to indicate that the young man in his satchel had a bunch of noses--not roses--as we had reported. We regret the error.
06/19 Direct Link

Today, Russell Smith in the Globe and Mail laments the fact that he is drawn, like a moth to a flame, to fashionable restaurants. He's mostly mystified be his own behaviour. He rationalizes it by universalizing it. We all do it, we're all trying to fuck popular girls, we're all going to movies on opening day, we're all waiting nights to get the new video-game console, we're all as stupid as Russell Smith. Too bad for him we're not.
06/20 Direct Link
A new creature has appeared in the world. It looks mostly like a horse, a very hairy horse, hairy like a sheepdog is hairy, but instead of hair the creature has thousands of multicoloured tubes all over itself. Furthermore, it has a pair of arms, kind of like a centaur, with the arms coming off its shoulders. These arms must have something like hands, but you can't see the hands because it always carries two long guns which it waves about erratically when it is not aiming. I know it can aim; I know because I've been shot by one.
06/21 Direct Link
Mary Beth
Mary Ellen
Mary Theresa
06/22 Direct Link
The De-expulsion

I lie down on the couch before I'm off to work at two. I lie there with my eyes closed, trying to come up with something to write about.

There are birds singing away outside.

There's the sound of a weedwhacker.

Garbage trucks are rolling by regularly.

There's a plane flying, high overhead.

Sounds like the power sander across the street.

Car door slams; another; car starts up, radio on, drives off.

A truck's backing up.

A child's screaming for something.

Another airplane, another garbage truck.

All sounds suddenly stop.

Except for the birds.

I open my eyes.
06/23 Direct Link
The Cohesion Theory of Meaning and the Objective Correlative

Many years ago Gary and I went to Clinton's to see a band, The Lost Dakotas. While we were there, Gary kept on turning aside to look at a woman sitting at the table next to us. He saw something in her. Some time during the evening, he got to talking with her.

He said, "You work out, don't you? I can tell."

She said, "Yeah, I lift weights."

"I thought so. I can tell by your shoulders. They're very broad."

I didn't think about this event again til years later.
06/24 Direct Link
"George? Yeah, I know you told me never to call you at work, but.... It was the only number I had, I mean, you left so suddenly this morning, it was printed on the side of the.... No, it was great.... You were my first politician, but WOW. My knees are still shaking.... I'm calling about this thing you left behind.... It's a box, with a big red button on it, your number's on the side.... Now calm down! I'm not pressing it! Don't worry, I won't.... Oops. I pressed it. Was that so wrong? Is it over between us?"
06/25 Direct Link
Next Big Thing Now

Chk-chk-chk-chk Arpeggio
Chk-chk-chk-chk Arpeggio
Chk-chk-chk-chk Arpeggio
Chk-chk-chk-chk Arpeggio
Chk-chk-chk-chk Arpeggio Wah-wah
Chk-chk-chk-chk Arpeggio Wah-wah
Chk-chk-chk-chk Arpeggio Wah-wah
Chk-chk-chk-chk Arpeggio Wah-wah
Chk-chk-chk-chk Chchp Woah-woah
Chk-chk-chk-chk Chchp Woah-woah
Chk-chk-chk-chk Chchp Woah-woah
Chk-chk-chk-chk Chchp Woah-woah
Chk-chk-chk-chk Arpeggio Bum-be-dum-dum Slam!
Chk-chk-chk-chk Arpeggio Bum-be-dum-dum Slam!
Chk-chk-chk-chk Arpeggio Bum-be-dum-dum Slam!
Chk-chk-chk-chk Arpeggio Bum-be-dum-dum S-slam!
Arpeggio Chchp Woah-woah
Arpeggio Chchp Woah-woah
Arpeggio Chchp Woah-woah
Arpeggio Chchp Woah-woah
Chk-chk-chk-chk Chchp Bum-be-dum-dum
Chk-chk-chk-chk Chchp Bum-be-dum-dum
Chk-chk-chk-chk Chchp Bum-be-dum-dum
Chk-chk-chk-chk Chchp Bum-be-dum-dum
Chk-chk-chk-chk Arpeggio Smash Wah-wah
Chk-chk-chk-chk Arpeggio Burp Wah-wah
Chk-chk-chk-chk Arpeggio Hwa? Wah-wah
Chk-chk-chk-chk Arpeggio Gimme Wah-wah
06/26 Direct Link
Peter Singer goes to his doctor for a check-up. Doctor says, "Mr. Singer, I'm authorizing you be euthanized."


"I'm prescribing an overdose of barbiturates."


"Your health is never going to improve."

"This is outrageous!"

"I'm only following your own principles. Your health will continue to deteriorate steadily, thus it's best to have you killed now, so others may consume the resources thus saved."

Singer cries, "But what about my innate human worth?"

The doctor smiles. "Mr. Singer, your brand of hypocrisy may pass muster on your campus, but here, in my office, I must call you on it."
06/27 Direct Link
I've got this friend of mine, he works here with me at the Public Broadcasting Service. He railed at me one day about how much he hates corporations.

I said, "But, you work for a corporation. This joint, PBS, is run by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting."

He said, "It's not at all the same thing."

I tilted my head, insolently, and said, "Remind me to never go to your restaurant."


"'Here ... is your flambé!' you'd say.

"'What?' I'd say. 'This, this is, a big, a big pile of shit!'

"'No, monsieur ... it is ... a flambé!'"
06/28 Direct Link
"So, Jess, there you are, solved another murder."

"Yes, another murder solved."

"You're so good at it, you know? Every time there's a murder in our small town, you solve it."

"I guess I just have the knack."

"Seems we've had a murder in our small town every couple weeks for the last some years."

"Curious, I agree."

"None during the summer months, though."


"Comes out to, oh, twenty murders or so a year."

"Seems a lot."

"Yeah, for a town with only 10,000 people."


"And the pattern started when you arrived in town."


"You're under arrest."
06/29 Direct Link
Report on Futurist Investments

It has been proposed by some of our investors that we put funds into futurists. Some investigation has revealed the following:

Futurists, as a whole, despite what they self-pronounce, lack confidence in their futurism. One could easily make a mint if one truly believed one was correct in his futuristical beliefs. If one believed oil would run out, why not invest heavily in alternative sources, and thereby reap some astonomical rewards? That most self-proclaimed futurists are often on the lecture circuit (and often live in their parents' basement) indicates they are faulty in their predicative abilities.
06/30 Direct Link
July 1, 2008 - 1 AM

I like eating my lunch up on the ninth floor. Right beside where I sit there's a sheer drop, nine floors down to the atrium.

Four or five months ago, I would get all nervous because I felt the impulse to toss myself over. Sometimes I'd simply have to leave the area.

I imagined the exhilaration of the fall....

But, these days, the feeling has vanished, and I eat in peace.

You stupid cunt. Why couldn't you have seen that you can fall out-of-love with anyone; that you can even fall out-of-love with death?