Nov 20

The Shavedown – Part 3

MOBROS

Darrin too, but he was a late bloomer.

That’s right, if you are new here, then you should step back a bit and check out Part 1 and work your way through. If you refuse, then I will give you a quick rundown of what has happened so far.

We went to Kelly’s Homelike Inn for a shavedown party. There was a jam band and they were awesome. There were photos of drunk shaving with a straight razor and blood.

You’re all caught up.

Kelly's Homelike InnJust going to have a pint at Kelly’s is worth the trip. It’s a sports bar for manly men and the women who love them.

Well, now it is. It didn’t used to be boob friendly.

When I was a wee lad, no women were allowed in there, but around 1976 or 77, they changed that rule. I’m sure the guys taking off early to chase some tail every night was hard to watch as a business owner. Kind of like when they finally got their liquor licence. Gord told me that when they just sold beer, guys would come in for a few, then bugger off to somewhere that they could fill their bellies with whiskey. They were losing out on some business that they were already set up for, I guess.

Chalk it up to changing times.

You know what isn’t changing? How sexy and talented The Savvy is. Ask Jay Sharp of Big Breakfast Blog and Eggs fame about The Savvy’s animal magnetism. He’s renowned for it. I think it’s the yoga pants he wears.

Anyhow, enough about that beast. We’re here to finish off the Shavedown Spectacular, once and for all. I think when we left off, it was Scooter’s turn to be shorn. I won the draw and got to lather him up.

So nice.

I wonder if you you have to go to school for barbering people?

I wonder if you you have to go to school for barbering people?

It was weird, but as I was applying the lather, Mr. Brady came back from the can with his eye crusted shut and a sinister look on his face. He exclaimed that he was shaving the next face and nobody was going to stop him. His one good eye was flicking around the room, maniacally.

Hey, who am I to argue?

I don't know what he whispered, but I'd say it wasn't very encouraging.

Scooter thought that maybe a righty shouldn’t be going southpaw on something like this.

"Oh, no problem," said Mr. Brady. "I'll switch it up right now.

“Oh, no problem,” said Mr. Brady. “I’ll switch it up right now.

"How about if I come up under here? Is that better, Scooter?"

“How about if I come up under here? Is that better, Scooter?”

I don’t think that Scooter figured it was better, but I guess you don’t argue with the crazy guy.

That feels like it's maybe too close. Way too close.

That feels like it’s maybe too close. Way too close.

The crackle in Scooter’s voice made me start paying attention. He’s usually pretty easy going and hard to rattle. Look at the size of him for crissakes.

"Whoa, Mr. B. What the hell are you doing? You're cutting him."

“Whoa, Mr. B. What the hell are you doing? You’re cutting him.”

Luckily he snapped out of it before the blade went deep.

Luckily he snapped out of it before the blade went deep.

I don’t know what got into Mr. Brady, but he got really weird until I said something to him. Scooter still won’t tell me what he was whispering in his ear. He just gets a twitch in his eye and his lip trembles.

It was lucky that I was there and had been nicked by a real barber before, because I knew that you have to stop the bleeding with powder. You see, while I was looking for something to clean up the blood with, I came across a can of Ajax. It’s probably not the same powder as the barber uses, but it might be. Either way, it should coagulate the blood, right?

"Dude, I'm almost 75% positive that it's what my barber uses. It is antiseptic too, and that kills the tetanus."

“Dude, I’m almost 75% positive that it’s what my barber uses. It is antiseptic too, and that kills the tetanus.”

(I don’t know if that’s true, but I think there’s bleach in it so it should kill some shit. Right?)

He wasn’t too keen on the idea. He kept yammering on about “Blah blah, gonna really sting, blah, might poison me, yadda yadda, I’m a whiny baby.”

You don't know until you try.

You don’t know until you try.

Well, I gotta say that he didn’t seem to enjoy that at all.

Hey, at least it worked. It would have sucked to have that kind of pain AND the bleeding.

Hey, at least it worked. It would have sucked to have that kind of pain AND the bleeding.

Click1

While the big fella cleaned up, we went to work on Tweezle. The poor bastard has a bit of a baby face, and said he can’t grow real hair, but we still let Gadget have his turn at the blade for posterity’s sake.

They figured that he needed to at least look like he could grow a 'stache. Apparently a monacle too.

They figured that he needed to at least look like he could grow a some hair. Apparently a monocle too.

He really seemed proud of his moustache and goatee. Like he believed it was real and shit.

Look at me, I’m a dandy.

He actually seemed quite proud of his new moustache and goatee. It was like he believed it was real and shit. THEY JUST DREW IT ON YOU, TWEEZLE!

I want to shave his fancy little nose off.

I want to shave his fancy little nose right off.

It turned out that he’s a bit sensitive about his boyish growth of facial hair. I guess the guys at his work have teased him mercilessly and it gave him a complex. Now I feel bad for wanting to cut his nose off when he was so proud of his tiny lip weasel.

"Awwww, here. I'll shave ya, little fella."

“Awwww, here. I’ll shave ya, little fella.”

Look at the poor bastard. He probably needs to see a therapist because of us.

"Never mind. I'll do it myself. Just leave me alone."

“Never mind. I’ll do it myself. Just leave me alone.”

You know what? That’s bullshit. He knew he was coming to a shavedown. What did he think, that we were shaving each other’s fuzzy nutsacks? I don’t think so. It’s not even close to Scrotember yet.

"Haha, I'm the only one that isn't leaving here wounded. I can't believe they fell for that sappy BS. Suckers."

“Haha, I’m the only one that isn’t leaving here wounded. I can’t believe they fell for that sappy BS. Suckers.”

Yeah, I thought so. Look at that gloating peacock. Well, it looks like we might have a fight on our hands, because ALL MUST BLEED!!!

ALL MUST BLEED!!!

That’s some serious Matrix shit right there.

Facts

  1. No Mo Bros were hurt in this blog post. Yet.
  2. There’s a good chance that two of the five friends in this post will get cancer. It’s more than a 40% probability for Canadian men on average. That’s pretty scary.
  3. The incidences of prostate cancer in Canadian men have slightly declined since 2007.
  4. Movember Canada launched in 2007
  5. I’m trying to play off a coincidence as a correlation, but I have no proof.
  6. About twice a week I worry about getting cancer. Any cancer.
  7. I have a lot of guy friends. Some of them are going to die of prostate cancer, because they won’t catch it in time.
  8. I’m sick of people dying from this fucking disease, and while I realise that us raising some awareness and a few hundredthousand dollars (yay!) to put towards research isn’t going to solve the problem; it will help. It all helps.
  9. Me not raising any awareness or money doesn’t help anyone.

We will cure this dirty old disease, well if you’ve gots the poison I’ve gots the remedy,

Birdman

Nov 11

It’s Remembrance Day Again

image- (1)

We’re going to the school for their ceremony and then to the cenotaph for the public one.

I’ll be all misty eyed I’m sure. I get like that every year. Something about freedom does that to me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not delusional enough to think that I’m truly free, but I’m not busting rocks with a chain around my ankle, so I’d say I’m free enough. The people who have fought for us, achieved the desired goal for the time. It’s not their fault that we as a society allowed politicians and corporations to ruin our world. They fought for the right to give us the choice of which asshole gets to screw us, and I thank them for that. I really do.

Think about all of the leaders over the years that just would have enslaved entire nations if they were given the chance. I don’t know much about slavery, but I know it’s horrible. I know people that have lived in countries where they are forced to fight, whether they believe in the cause or not. Guys with bullet wounds all through them, because after they healed up, they were sent right back out to start killing again. One guy had been shot up on three different occasions. The last time was in his back and the doctors said he couldn’t fight again as his spine had been damaged. He went home to pack his things and get the hell out of there. His wife and son had been shot and killed years earlier while he was out killing other wives and children, so he took off for Canada and a better life. He found it, but at what cost?

When you hear what it was like where he came from, which was under Nazi rule during the war, it makes you appreciate our government, even with their greed and corruption.

Pretty sad isn’t it? These people go and fight at the drop of a hat for their country, and when they come home it’s in a worse condition than when they left. They get shit for benefits and pay, but the people who are sending them to where they will possibly lose their life are double dipping their expense accounts, taking lavish vacations on the tax payer’s dime, and getting a very healthy pension plan out of the deal. Not too shabby for never having to put yourself in danger or even being accountable for anything you do.

I know this is a lot different than my usual Remembrance Day post, but to be honest with you, I’m not in the spirit this year. I’m a little bit angry about a lot of things and I haven’t got it in me to write a sappy retrospective of how our freedom was dependent on all of the people who fought for us and gave us the life we now have.

I know it was, but I’m a little pissed that we are wasting it so badly, and at such a fast pace. Free trade, pipelines, oil sands, corrupt senators and crack smoking mayors. Nobody gives a shit about anything anymore.

Poppy-Day

Sorry, that isn’t entirely true. We still care about money. Not enough to ensure that our jobs stay in our country, but we sure do like to vote for whoever offers the right economic agenda in their platform. Who cares about pumping billions of litres of contaminated fresh water down disposal wells? It doesn’t matter right now, because we have lots in our lakes and rivers. Oh, all of that water is coming from our lakes and rivers every day? Oh well, I’m sure the government is looking out for us. They wouldn’t destroy our country for a bit of oil and gas revenue would they? Oh, they would? Well, I’m sure they are working on ways to clean it up. I’m sure some of our tax money will go to research. I don’t think that those disposal wells are near the water table or anything. They’ll figure something out.

I’m no different, I just wish I was. I have computers and gadgets. I drive a gas powered vehicle and I fly to my job that helps get the oil and gas out of the ground. I’m not pointing fingers at you and telling you that you’re bad.

We all are.

Actually. We’re not just bad. We’re fucking horrible. The problem is that the bar has dropped over the past few years. It’s actually below the mat now. We’ve been trained to settle for so much less than we should, and it’s all our fault. Oh, it’s also our parent’s fault, and our grandparent’s fault.

That’s right, they are the ones who fell into the original trap of needing all of this useless shit after WWII. The worst of it, in my opinion, was television. There’s nothing like a bunch of greedy corporations sending you something to rot your mind, all the while plugging thoughts of entitlement into your family’s head.

You work hard. Why don’t you buy our gizmo to make your life a little easier? It would save you thirty minutes a day, and that would give you some more time to relax in front of your new colour TV. Has conventional cooking started to interrupt your soap opera time? Here’s a handy microwave. You can cut your meal preparation time in half or more. Was working, reading, and talking to each other that bad?

I’m sorry. This isn’t a day for griping. It’s a day that we need to stop and thank the men and women who have, and continue to, lay down their lives for us. They willingly give everything so that we aren’t forced into killing our neighbours, and there is no amount of thanks that can repay that.

So let’s have a moment of silence to think about what has been lost, and how we can live better and truly honour those that have put their lives on the line to give us that freedom.

I remember.

Birdman

Jul 17

Someone Was Wrong On The Internet

Birdman

It’s something that Mrs Birdman dedicated to me one day. A cartoon. Apparently it’s my thing.

I can't help it. It's a sickness.

I can’t help it. It’s a sickness.

Anyhow, because it is so sweltering hot at my desk, I postponed finishing the Darien Lake post to do this, because it will be much quicker. It’s basically just a cutout of Ed’s Facebook status and the ensuing argument, but my wife thought it would make a good post, and I want to get into our air conditioned bedroom soon, so I said “What the hell? I’ll try anything twice.”

Anyhow, here it is in all of it’s glory.

Long, huh?

Long, huh?

I had to look up TLDR again, but I soon remembered someone else writing that on another argument I was in. I guess it’s a popular response to nerds. My baby sent me this excerpt from Wikipedia, when I asked her about it:

Maintain civility[edit]

Sometimes a person might feel that a reader’s decision to pointedly mention this essay during a discussion is dismissive and rude. Therefore, courteous editors might, as an alternative to citing WP:TLDR, create a section on the longwinded editor’stalk page and politely ask them to write more concisely.

A common mis-citation of this essay is to ignore the reasoned and actually quite clear arguments and requests for response presented by an unnecessarily wordy editor with a flippant “TL;DR” in an attempt to discredit and refuse to address their strongly-presented ideas and/or their criticism of one’s own position. This is a four-fold fallacyad hominemappeal to ridiculethought-terminating cliché, and simple failure to actually engage in the debate because one is supposedly too pressed for time to bother, the inverted version of proof by verbosity.

Lastly, shear laziness or excessively concise may miss an important set of details necessary to include a well branched entry despite lacking the requisite patience. [8].

Well, that’s it for tonight. I hope we get some rain soon to cool things off around here. I hear the crops could use it too. I will try to get something done around here soon.

So you think your schooling is phoney, I guess it’s hard not to agree, you say it all depends on the money and who is in your family tree,

Birdman

 

Jun 24

Trampling A Woman’s Rights

birdmandesk

I don’t know how many of you were here back then, but I once wrote a story about a degenerate publisher that runs a fake paper in Oshawa. It was about his, and his reporter Bill Steele’s*, homophobic stance when it came to local politicians supporting the LGBT community.

*Bill Steele claimed to have apologised to the people involved in that story, but it turns out that he did not do so. I suppose it was just to keep the media at bay.

Anyhow, if you didn’t feel like checking it out, I will give you the gist.

  • Councillors Amy England and Bruce Wood attended a PFLAG gala to raise money for an LGBTQ youth leadership camp
  • Councillor England performed a Bruno Mars song in drag to help raise funds
  • Bill Steele and Joe Ingino lambasted the councillors in a poorly edited article in Joe’s “newspaper” for supporting the LGBT community
  • Everyone that wasn’t a homophobe thought the article was idiotic*

*purely speculation Continue reading

May 01

I Gots Me A Job

birdmandesk

Yep, I got a job delivering fertilizer to farms.

This is awesome, because it combines a few of my favourite things. Farmers, driving, slinging the proverbial shit, and getting a paycheck.

As I was sitting here contemplating what to write about today, I was flipping through G+ and I came across some video footage of Black Sabbath performing one of their new songs in Australia. I couldn’t tell whether it was good or not, because of the bad video, but on the left was a link to a 1973 video from a Deep Purple concert in New York.

I clicked on it, and was immediately transported back to grade 9 or 10 when I worked in the arcade that was attached to The British Hotel, or I suppose it was called Speedy’s by then. There was a jukebox in there, and during a shift of doling out quarters and french fries to my delinquent friends, I would hear the four Deep Purple songs that were on it, maybe twenty times. I worked there 5 days a week at least, so you could safely say that I heard Deep Purple more than the average person.

I believe that this was the model. Maybe some of you remember better. Like how many times Wishing Well by Terence Trent D'arby got played.

I believe that this was the model. Maybe some of you remember it better. Oh, and how many times did Wishing Well by Terence Trent D’arby get played.

This may seem like I’m complaining, but I’m not. I don’t remember ever thinking that I was sick of Hush, Highway Star, or even Smoke On The Water. I liked hearing them all whenever they came on, but the biggest treat was when someone, namely me, would put their two bits in and play Kentucky Woman. Continue reading