Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Kim Jong II - Your Lunatic BFF

Hey there. Remember me? I'm Kim Jong II. Ring a bell? No? Back in '06 I was the man. I detonated a low yield nuclear weapon off the coast of North Korea. How crazy is that? Plenty crazy. That's sniffing airplane glue, huddled in the corner of a rat infested basement writing cryptic Greek messages on the wall and screaming about ants and Wilfred Laurier crazy - but oh no. 2 years ago everyone was talking about me and my sweet nuclear stuff, but no one cares about me anymore.

You're all obsessed with Mahmoud and Bashar al-Assad. Freakin' losers. Can you even pronounce "Ahmadinejad?" That's just a mess of vowels and consonants no man should be made to decipher. You know what else? Mahmoud may be short, but I'm waaaay shorter. I am so short I am literally staring at the urinal puck when I take a leak. Most of it dribbles down my leg.

I'm not unreasonable, though. I'm willing to meet you half way. Give me a couple of slots on CNN showing how moon bat crazy and scary I am, and I am willing to go the extra mile for you. I'm already off to a good start. I'm an unstable despot who is constantly drunk on Hennessy brandy. I wear lifts in my shoes (mostly because of the dribble) and I spend endless hours in my private screening room watching Godzilla movies.

I can tell. You're not impressed. My man Gaddafi got sodomized with a knife while they dragged him through the streets. Tough act to follow you say? NAY! I will sodomize myself with a bat covered in rusty nails while giving you bedroom eyes. I will set my taint on fire and poop out a bar of uranium if that's what it takes.

That's dedication. That's the kind of nuttier than squirrel poop crazy that you're not going to get from that little dandy Al-Assad. It's not enough to be scary.

You deserve Skeletor crazy, and I promise - give me a chance, and I will be your lunatic bff.

Lots of Crazy Love

Kim Jong Il

Friday, November 11, 2011

Poppy - Remembering the Haida

Editor's note: The following Remembrance Day blog is a guest article written by my wife and editor, the lovely Mrs Claire.  This moving tribute to her grandfather is in honour of all those who fought and sacrificed for our freedoms.

We have become accustomed to the term 'family unit'. It is a dry phrase, for when I reflect upon my own family, one word trumps this commonplace expression, and that word is 'legacy'. It is a legacy of a family, and a man I knew as 'Poppy'.

My mother's family are very close-knit, and would do anything for one another, and by extension, for anyone that can be considered family. I believe this is because of the values instilled in them by their parents. My grandfather and grandmother, Clyde and Edith Crews, were feisty Newfoundlanders, a rare and special breed of Canadian.

We, their grandchildren, knew my grandfather, quite fittingly given this subject matter, as Poppy. Poppy, as I knew him, was a gentle, soft-spoken man, who loved bear hugs and back scratches. He was a warm, kind, and genuine person, and the delight in his eyes was obvious when he saw family coming. When I was young, if he saw our car coming up his long driveway, he would lock the door, knowing that I would be the first one out of the car. Running excitedly to the door, I would knock, and he'd look through the little window and yell 'Go away, foreigner!' (they had since moved to Nova Scotia; we lived in the neighbouring province of New Brunswick), then, flinging the door wide, give me a giant hug.

As I got older, I started learning about World War II in school. At some point, we were given an assignment: To speak to a veteran about his time during the war. When I got home, my mother suggested I call Poppy. I found out he had served in the Navy. I called him, and he told me a story. At the end, he was quiet for a moment, and then he said 'That was the most scared I was, during the entire war.'

My mother doesn't remember, growing up, hearing stories about his service, because my grandmother didn't want her children to know of the horrors of war. Once grown, my grandfather would speak of it, albeit rarely, at times prompted by televised images of the war, or, quite simply, if he was asked about it.

Through the years, I've heard many stories about his service, from my mother, my aunts, and my uncles. Please forgive the scattered nature of the stories, I don't know them in chronological order:

Newfoundland, the province in which my grandparents were born and raised, did not join the Canadian Confederation until 1949. During the war, my grandfather signed up to fight for his country, a country to which he did not yet belong. His younger brother, my Great-Uncle Mickey, lied about his age and joined as well. Newfoundlanders (or Newfies as we now endearingly call them) were treated as the mud on every one's shoe, but, for the most part, they never complained, and followed orders - or at least they did on my grandfather's ship.

He served on the HMCS Haida, which served multiple functions - everything from convoy escort to full-blown warship - from 1943 through to the end of the war. My grandfather was a gunner. He once recounted to my mother that his and an Allied ship were sailing out on open water when a U-boat surprised them and fired on the ship closest to it, which was not the Haida. They managed to evacuate the Allied ship and sink the U-boat. They were not always so lucky.

Once, they came upon another Allied ship that had been fighting an enemy ship, but was at that point sinking. My grandfather said he could see the men from the ship bobbing in the waters of the Atlantic, and the Haida neared in an attempt to pick them up. They began drawing enemy fire, and had to pull out of the battle. They saved as many men as they could, which was not many. They were forced to retreat, leaving the vast majority of their brothers behind.

The story he recounted to me was what he described as being 'the most scared I was, during the entire war.' While fighting an enemy ship during a storm, firing at one another, huge waves were beating down on them, pounding the ship into the ocean. At some point during the fight, an enormous wave pushed the Haida high up in the air. He recounted that while they were technically still in the water, they were basically at a 90 degree angle to the ocean. They were completely exposed, and there was a 50-50 chance they'd land properly. The ship could have easily tilted the other way and landed upside down. When they landed bottom down, he said it was an ear-splitting booming noise that probably would have been louder had he not been so terrified. They won the battle.

The HMCS Haida sank more enemy surface tonnage during the war than any other Canadian warship. He was proud to have the honour of serving his country, and even as an elderly man, he could describe every detail of his ship. My parents gave him a framed photograph of the ship one year for Christmas, and it hung with a quiet dignity until he and my grandmother passed away and their house was sold. My parents now have the picture.

I can't begin to imagine the horrors he must have encountered during World War II, the stories no one ever heard. He fought with stoicism and pride. He fought for our freedom. He fought with honour.

After the war, he went on to marry my grandmother Edith, moved to the province of Nova Scotia, and had 14 children. My mother, the eighth child, can hardly remember a time he raised his voice (with one exception, funny, but not appropriate here). He contracted tuberculosis around 1956, and spent a year in a sanatorium. The doctors eventually removed a portion of his left lung. He worked at the docks in Halifax, Nova Scotia, to support his family, and support them he did. He raised a beautiful family, and each of his children can and do tell stories that highlight the great man he was.

When he passed away in January of 2008, he was survived by his wife, 14 children, 25 grandchildren, and 30 great-grandchildren, as well as a multitude of nieces and nephews. Those numbers have grown, and, if the world has luck on it's side, we will instill the same virtues of kindness, gentleness, generosity, and all of his wonderful traits, all the things that made him such a wonderful man, into our children as he instilled in his, who in turn instilled into us. This is his legacy.

He was my hero.



Thursday, November 10, 2011

Howdy, I Might Be Rick Perry

Howdy!  I'm Rick Perry, and I'm running for somethin' in Norway.  Wait...that ain't quite right.  I'm a dang ol' Texas boy, and I made these Gucci loafers...I mean, snake skin boots with a bear I caught with my own three hands.  Confused?  Me too.

You see, after I went and started forgettin' stuff at the last debate, ma' campaign advisers decided it might temporarily boost my poll numbers if I start forgettin' stuff more often. From now on, I plan to forget a ding-dang pile of stuff to anyone who will listen, like them fellers on the late night radio, David Letternumber, and Jay Pruno.  But I can get up before the crack o' dawn and do the morning shows too, cause that what we do here in Ohio...I mean, BIG OL' TEXAS.  We get up nice and late so we can have an early lunch before the kids go to work or whatever.  You see, I went and forgot again.  Ain't that just so electable. Seriously.

Now, you might think it was a case of the nerves that made me forget that I wanted to abolish the Department of Energy and some other stuff, but heck, I've gone a step further and plum forgot what Energy is.  I think it's that thing they put in toothpaste.  I might get rid of some of them other departments as well, but I can't remember what they are.  When I do remember, they're as good as gone, but for now, I forget stuff and remind people of it because we decided at a brain storming session that it's a solid strategy for the next week as it seems to be artificially inflating my poll numbers...I mean screw letters.  Sorry, I forgot that I was supposed to be forgettin' stuff.  Ain't that the dangest thing?


What?  Is that too over the top guys?....You want me to reign it in?  Yeah, that's just making me sound crazy.

Howdy again.  It's me, and I'm fairly certain I'm Rick Perry.  I know my fellow Canadians don't like how they've started to get all cheap with the sprinkles at Baskin and Robbins, so if I remember, the Department of Ice Cream Toppings is GONE.

Now, I know in these uncertain times, it's hard to know just what to remember, but if you remember anything, forget this: I'm Rick Perry, and I'm going to be forgettin' stuff for a yet to be determined amount if time, and I will continue to fight for your rights until I am Prime Minister.

(This message would have been approved by The Committee to Elect Rick Perry but they forgot as well.)



Thursday, November 03, 2011

Yes we Cain? Herman Cain's last stand - Blogging by Numbers!!!

My brother is getting married. He likes to play it safe. He's planned a 2013-"ish" wedding date, which gives him lots of time to devise an exit strategy in light of the fact that my crafty soon to be blister-in-law called his bluff and said yes. Bad play on his part. He was planning to propose over a sewer grate in New York amongst the lights and bustle of New York city, but pissed the demon off so badly one night that he proposed on the spot to abate her wrath. After that kind of counter strategy, I don't know what he'll have to pull out of the top hat to appease "The One" the next time the knucklehead does something to land him on the couch for a week. How do you top a diamond ring?

I kid, of course. Angie is a darling and I could not be happier for the both of them - plus she makes great lasagna. My brother asked me to be his best man, and I was honoured.

Let the blogging by numbers begin!!

1 - When National Review's Jim Geraghty is dragging your body through the town square in a triumphant auto da fé in Morning Jolt, you are in very deep trouble.  This weekend will be make or break for GOP  presidential hopeful Herman Cain. The last 24 hours have been a virtual "creepy uncle explosion" for his campaign. Cain continues to climb in the polls despite his clumsy reaction to allegations of aggressively propositioning a female attendee at an NRA conference to come up to his room for a little more than a slice of pizza (the restaurant NRA, not the rifle NRA). He even grabbed front runner status, knocking Perry into the single digit realm in a national Quinnipiac poll.

As the story began to gain momentum,  more came forward with similar stories of the married Cain's aggressive womanizing. Most still viewed the accusations with a suspicious eye, as the AP and other news outlets had nothing more to offer than "anonymous sources", but then NRO's Geraghty stated he believed the claims based on stories from a staffer of conservative talk show host Steve Deace.

The Steve Deace allegations have been the most damning and credible, despite Mark Block's allegations that this is nothing more than political carpet bombing from the Perry camp. The Perry camp is blaming Romney for all of this, of course, but the tale grows stranger. The Washington Times is claiming Rahm Emanuel's office leaked the story to the Perry camp via NRA reps from their Chicago office.

Cain has exploded at the press, and as frustrated as he may feel, it was not a flattering moment for his image. If he survives the Sunday talk show circuit this weekend, he may get past this. The "who leaked what" circus of the bizarre may play in his favour, as it forces other candidates to make magnanimous statements about Cain's impeccable character. The Cain camp is calling on his accusers to step up and show their faces.  If these women are telling the truth, and they call his bluff at a press conference, the "Godfather of Pizza" may end up "sleeping with the political fishes."

2 - Let me get on record as saying I like Herman Cain. I don't know if I'll be so fond of him if the stories of his alleged womanizing goes beyond some clumsy drunken flirting at a conference years ago, but for now, he's fine by me.  He has injected life into the debates, and his front runner status has made the leftist establishment very nervous. Cain has made some tactical errors, notably the ad that inexplicably ends with his campaign manager, Mark Block, taking a drag off a cigarette, making you feel like Rick Hanson is right around the corner with a camera crew.  His 999 plan would double dip into seniors' pockets, and may affect property values, but to his credit, he is the only candidate who has a comprehensive tax plan so far, despite it's flaws.

Cain frequently makes the folksy claim that he is the only candidate who is not a politician, that he's a businessman from outside the beltway who understands the concerns of everyday Americans. Please. Cain has been knee deep in politics since he was a senior economic advisor to the Dole campaign in 1996. If he survives this bimbo eruption, makes it to the next debate, and continues with this shtick, it may just provide fodder for a knock-out sound bite from another candidate.

This may all be moot if the allegations that swirl around him are true. Cain chose to deny the charges instead of saying his personal life was none of anyone's business. and that choice could make or break his political future. If Cain is vindicated, it will hurt both the Perry and Romney camps, as they accuse each other Callender-style politicking . If the allegations are true, then Cain is a creep and a liar and American conservatives deserve better.

3 - Quote of the week: "I wonder if teen vampires read fantasy novels about the lives of heavy middle aged secretaries as a form of escape?" - Mike Polk Jr.

4- The collection of unemployed sociologists and college dropouts called Occupy Wall Street is losing steam, mostly because they're wearing out their welcome and they have no coherent message to speak of. Ask a protester what they hope to acheive, and you can make a drinking game if you take a shot every time you hear them use the word "bourgeois." So far, from Atlanta to New York, there have been thousands of arrests including destruction of property in the millions, arson, rape, assault, and there have also been several deaths from drug overdoses.

Drum circles aside, there are so many things that make this movement simultaniously comic and tragic. First of all, they aren't really occupying Wall Street. They are actually loitering in a residential neighborhood. "Wall Street", as a collection of financial institutions, actually moved to midtown Manhattan over four miles away years ago (Geography is often static, but you can't move away from stupid). Funnier still is that OWS leaders, such as self described "socialist" independent Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders, voted to   protect subsidies for millionaires’ mortgages, and supported an amendment to a bill that "...will allow Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac, and the Federal Housing Administration to back home loans as large as $729,750." He returned to lead the protesters without so much as a peep from anyone, because most of them don't even know the difference between North Korea and South Korea 

The residents of Wall Street, who at first tried to be charitable to the protesters, now want them out after allegations of rape surfaced. In Britain, St. Paul's Cathedral had to close it's doors for the first time since 1940 when"... German bombs rained indiscriminately down on the city during the Blitz and an unexploded incendiary forced evacuation for a few days while the device was removed." This was after the church allowed them some space to protest out of good will. Now the human debris refuse to leave.

It was Stephen Colbert who had the last laugh when he, dressed as Che Guevera, lampooned the protesters in an attempt to "co-occupy" them. When liberal comedians can't take you seriously anymore, you know you're in trouble.

5 - Have a great weekend!!!