Outskirts of Town

Enter several ROADSWEEPERS, pushing their carts. They sing in unison:

The wise man sleeps on a bed of wool, 

The lazy man sleeps on a bed of feathers.

The rheumatic sleeps on wood,

And the rogue on a pretty girl's breasts.

If I were a worker at a Ferromanganese Plant just outside of Brescia in Italy, I would have Parkinson's by now. Instead I have lower-lombar pains that I drown in Tylenol, assuming postures only rivaled by the most self-conscious, vegan, steven and chris-watching, homosexuals. 

Calamity James

You've all probably seen it by now... "Calamity James" has struck again. The lad just doesn't do himself any justice, with these silly mistakes. How is Capello expected to stick with him, when he pulls off performances as willy wonky and ghastly as this spectacle against Wolfsburg? and you all know what I'm talking about, he's done it time and time again. He's been sterling between the sticks all season and then... good lord... who was he passing the bloody thing to?

"Porous Portsmouth Crash Out of UEFA" reads the headlines now... the kids aren't alright. You haven't done Tony Adams a whole lot of good now, have you James? He'll be the next one to get the hammer. 

Oh and Big Sam's got a shoe-in at the proverbial door at Sunderland? Keano couldn't handle it.. even after months of sporting that horrendous beard! Ferguson throws in his weight behind Ince, eh...didn't see him do that for good ol' keano?

17 dogs tried to track us down

"1938, he was 27. At that time, the Blacks often died beaten by the Whites."

Seasick Steve picked up a beat guitar and assembled / deconstructed his ragged persona, under bridges and under the noses of the Whites. He's a white, he's American. He was a hobo, living in France, spewing out the blues that comes naturally to those with fervour of the heart and leaky shoes. He bled it out for frenchmen, wearing white pants, and rosied up cheeks, from too much wine and too little discretion; thinking to themselves who is this ragged yank, how come he's got soul, and should I dispense with a euro?

...though we all wish to feed on certainties,

few things are certain,

but one thing is clear, blues saves lives, and ragged old dharma bums once laid out to dry, hitching train rides with ol' moriarty, can earn a dime or two on forgiving parisian streets.

Spontaneous Prose

I was at the adult theater with five guys, 

we were watching as they huddled around her on the large projected image,

and then "jamaican five" whispers in my ear, hey you wanna some herb?

so i take a hit and the characters in this 70s porno jump straight at me, the suckers were all around me with their cocks and muff. 

and then i climaxed

resulting in this... [points at a stain on his corduroys]

now in my post-orgasmic paranoia i usher the russian thugs with their cocks and the concubines with their hairy muff back into the tele, i don't know how they got out!

jamaican five asks me if i want to take another hit, i say, no man no, hell no, marijuana is a hell of a drug

i'm on my way out of this joint and the watchman spots me out with his flashlight,

hey there feller i think i saw you committing some illicit actions in our backroom there.

he looks at the giant oil spill-like stain on my cords, 

hey man, i was just milking a cow

...and thats your moment of zen kids.

a spoken-word narrative from "silky hair charlie" at 2:50am

Secretly Canadian

The first day of real snowfall in Toronto. Two rad dudes, labelled immigrants by their housemate of Jamaican descent, put on their shoes, double down the fire escape, embracing what they see as quintessentially "metal". Now they find an old chevy van, older than themselves, remnant of a time when a Jew named Woody would put his "Impeach Nixon" pin on, and go see Ingmar's new, Viskingar och rop.

Times have changed, we now get amp'd to go see the new bond. Some things, however stand the test of time: snow and old vans, still spells, Canadiana.

What else makes me feel a little Canadian inside, only to hide it with racist slurs:

Chevy Silverado - Canada's Best Truck, a phallic symbol and the cornerstone of Canada's dependence on America, which is only held from shining truly by commie barnacles, also known as Unions. *cough* scum!

Caesar Sourdough Croutons - In a recent revelation, I have set aside my former distaste for this, the indisputable pinnacle of whiteness, and am now fully committed to putting little pieces of bread on my salad, and further dousing it in Zesty Italian. I need to subsidize this for the folks back home. Damn you US embargoes!

JD Blue Collar Love - Put on your flannel jacket and let the good times begin! Everything from arm-wrestling to black people is fair play!

Molson Canadian Rules - This should have really been added to my assimilation kit, I'll have to sit down with Mitchell and go over the nitty-gritty of what's expected by any respectable Canadian male (He's really the go-to-guy when it comes to the essence of being white. Example, he calls me Taj and thinks I'm an Ay-rab)

Trading Caaaards - 

You will walk in the cold for it, while you've got perfectly marinated drumsticks in the fridge.

You will stand in line with schoolkids for it.

You will stand in line with Black schoolkids from the Jane and Finch area for it.

You will walk all the way back home to enjoy opening the shiny packaging, as the Guv General pursues a profession of small talk with navy folk, and Harpie looks on.

Yes I am talking about the NHL Trading Cards, pictured above, and sold at your local Macdo!

Cooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaach!

"But the water's just getting good"

Computer Liebe

Wolfgang Muller: Hey it's potato head, and potato head's lover!

Biba Kopf: I got my shades in the January of 2006

Pil Kollektiv: Who's the blind guy?

Leon's Christmas specials are here!

My Shitlist – 08

An ode to the worst this year had to offer:

 //Look on down from the bridge

Worst blog of the year and the biggest let down

Political musings run dry on debut

Brad Cox

Proof that in hyping this hollow posturing hipster that certain quarters of the blogosphere have no soul – I’ve listened to Deerhunter, its garbage

http://www.brooklynvegan.com/img/music2/coxglamour.jpg

 Level Nightclub

A Great Lake collecting all the douche canals and tributaries of the greater Toronto area – be prepared to listen to audio diarrhea and see double-popped collars

 Canadian Elections

What was this about? Asides from Layton proving that he could run a campaign on the strength of two words “Kitchen table” and “Corporations”. At least we got to see Dion play hockey and now we have some Green party memorabilia.

 Twice in a lifetime

This is more a statement about CTV and CBC in general. Let’s continue our no-TV run indefinitely Dale

 W.

If you know Colin, he’s a cool dude. You wouldn’t be able to tell judging from this pick. The most comic part of the night came thanks to the gentleman in the first row, toying with an iphone he clearly didn’t know how to use!

 Crackhead who stole my laptop

You came into my room on a hot sunny day

You saw the flag of the Islamic Republic of Iran

You saw a copy of Soul on Ice by Black Panther, Eldridge Cleaver

and yet you stole my laptop,

at least you got a pair!

 The Hammer

Hamilton, affectionately known as the hammer

A milieu for crackwhores, pimps and meth addicts, a dainty bunch!

 Cooners

This goes out to that sly raccoon that came up our fire escape, one rainy night, trotted nimbly through our living room, glanced upon my room, and jumped into my bed, and dried himself out on my bedsheets. FUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCK YOUUUUS

Spencer Rice//

YOU GOT BLOWN BY A PRE-OP TRANNY!