Nov 20


I completely fucked the dog last night, and coincidentally remembered how addictive Tropico is. It’s this old strategy/sim game that I absolutely love. I bought it for $1 at a yard sale back in around 2003, and I played it for at least a year, solidly. By far the best value for the money that I’ve ever spent on a video game.

I played it last night until 3 AM, and then went in and thought about it for another half hour. I’m not letting myself play it today, at least until I get some stuff written for today and tomorrow. It’s really cool, because in the game you are a dictator in some Banana Republic, and you have several different scenarios that you can do. The main thing is, in any of the modes of play, is to stay in power.

I really believe that I could play that game forever and never do every possible scenario. You can be one of many famous dictators in the free play part, and you can set your island to whatever difficulty setting you want, in thousands of combinations. I like being Che Guevara, because I’m a motherfucking rebel, yo, and the people really love him, so there’s less chance of them revolting against me as I turn their beloved island into a strip-mined, soil depleted tourist attraction.

Continue reading

Nov 09

Movember 9th, 2012

That’s right, it’s Movember 9th and that can mean only one thing.

We are getting desperate.

As of last night, I have resorted to whoring myself out for donations. For $5 I will put whatever you want me to on my status. It can be on either Facebook, Google+, or Twitter, or all of them if the price is right.. I will leave it there for at least an hour, and if you put it in quotes, I will do it word for word, or maybe you just want me to write down how I feel about you, like Sandra did this morning. Last night, Nancy had me write a post in Shakespearean English, but I’m afraid it fell short. It’s been 20 years since I have actually read The Merchant of Venice, and it was hard remembering the precise words that he used. Irania and Kathy came in late, so I’ll accomodate them later today, I promised Sandra until noon, and then it’s game on.

I’m telling you, folks, it’s warmed my heart with the response we’ve gotten so far, and I want to thank you for that. The people who have donated, the people who will donate, and the people who want to donate, but just can’t for whatever reason. You are all important, and without you reading this, and any other cancer awareness articles, the word doesn’t spread. Sure funds are great, but awareness is key. When you’re aware, you can be proactive.

Gently grab hold of your nuts and give them a good, thorough grope. Get some good lube, and an even better friend, and have yourself an amateur prostate exam/milking. Come on, it can’t be that hard. I went to a little lecture at Sexapalooza last year, and she said that if you have your prostate milked on a regular basis, you will never have to worry about prostate cancer. I’m still a little sheepish, but at least I know I should be doing it. Continue reading

Nov 01

Movember 1, 2012


That’s right, Movember is here again, and we have actually got a team this year. I suppose I should introduce them before we get too far into it.

So young and handsome.

We’ve got Roadie, whose wife, until yesterday, had never seen him shaved and fresh.

He’s also a singer/songwriter, and maybe he will write us a Movember theme song if you folks donate enough to him. (I actually don’t know if he would, but if you donate $50 or more, I would incorporate your name in it.)

We predict that this hairy fella will have a full-blown Grohl by the end of the week.





Maybe not so young, but stoic and handsome nonetheless.

Our next Compadre goes by the name of Scotty P on the blog, and he’s a reader that’s turned into a friend. He shares my love for smoked meat, and helping people live better lives. He does it by giving them sound financial advice, whereas I tend to do it by using snide remarks until they perfect something. Scotty is usually sporting a lovely ‘stache, and if you check out his link that I just put up here, you’ll see that he’s a natural.








Probably not Sean

Next up is Sean Blackler. Sean is a bit of an enigma here, because he joined, and that’s it. We think he joined the wrong team, but because he hasn’t contacted us, we don’t know for sure. No matter what though, we hope he brings in a pile of dough for the movement. If you’re reading this, Sean, get ahold of me through the Harass Us page or on Facebook or something. We need some photos and whatnot.







Giggity Gadget is here now. You know him from such escapades as the Halloween party (go to yesterday’s post), Supair Boogies, and my bromance. He is going to be working on the neapolitan Santana, and we can’t stress enough how happy we are to be having a natural, tri-coloured moustache on the team with us.







Can’t be worse than last year, right?

And there’s me. Birdman. Grower of all types of hair. This is my second official Movember on CTT, and I’m hoping to surpass my last year’s total of $135. That’s $135 that didn’t get spent on beer, shoes, make-up, or mozzarella sticks. 91% of that went to cancer research and awareness, because Movember’s admin costs are 9%, which is low compared to many charities.

This year, I’m going to rock The Zappa, which is the “stache that Scooter voted on last year. I’m getting to it, buddy. I hope I do you proud.






This used to be Shawny Shawn, the dog-faced boy. Until today

Shawn was volunteered by his lady and we couldn’t be happier. (although he looks like he could be) He’s already the front runner for money, and he’s only been on the team for 10 minutes. We’re expecting big things from this guy, and if you go and check out his page, you’ll understand why. That’s right, he’s half bear.







Sethro is our Republican friend. He’s trying his best to give them a more caring feel

Coming at us from west of the border, Sethro is the US contingent, along with his beautiful wife, who promised to not withhold on the kisses if he grew a “lip caterpillar”. You may remember them from such events as OUR WEDDING and some of the vandalism on the 401 overpasses on their way home. We hope that Seth can grow hair in his man spots, but even if he can’t, at least he tried.




John fixes everyone up



Dustin was a groomsman in my wedding, and always seems to be right there when it you need him. Well, not right there, but 4000 kms away, “right there”. Sometimes you can find him slinking around at Becoming Oliver, or wrangling cats and ladies at his swinging pad. We’re hoping that he can convince a few in his harem to kick over some of their ducats to a good cause.







We’ve all been affected in some way by cancer, and I know that it sucks. You don’t need to like a status on Facebook to prove that you hate cancer, we already know you do. What I would like you to do, though, is to share things with your friends. Useful things. Like maybe tell them that adding a bit of turmeric to their food can really help in the prevention of cancer, and the fight against it. Just simple little things like that, shared around on your social media networks, will go a lot further than telling people that if they don’t “like” a picture of a child that’s battling leukemia, then they don’t care.

People do care, and you don’t have to spend money to spread the word. Do some research, find little tidbits of cancer fighting knowledge, and put that up as your status. Sure, we would love some donations to our team, but we aren’t prestige whores. We don’t want you to feel pressured into donating, but we do want to pressure you into doing something. Share our Mo Spaces with your friends, tell people about healthier choices that they can make to help prevent this disease, and most importantly, get a check-up every year. That is your best bet for catching things early on.

I’m done rambling, for today, but do try, and if you want to join our team, make sure you do it soon. Send us a photo of your cleanly shaved face as of today, and sign up on our team page posted at the top and bottom of this post.


A lady gets a lotta things, she gets a 20 carat ring,


Feb 19

Fuck Cancer.

Yeah, I’m pissed.  I’m so fucking angry for the people I love, having watched another member sucked into the macabre dance that is terminal cancer.  It’s not enough that the cancer robs people of their health, their light and their choices, but it sucks the family dry emotionally.  I have watched my Chris and his entire family watch and wait for the icy claw of death to claim their husband and father, and honestly, there are few things more heartbreaking.  No one deserves to have this happen to someone they love.  Living in Cancertown means surviving in a war-torn community, full of false hope, anxious days, exhausted and spiritually depleted members.  I am so FUCKING SICK of having people I love hang in the balance, waiting and watching to see when IT will finally happen.

Well IT happened.

Chris’ stepfather is gone.   If you are a regular reader, you have read some of the stories he has shared about Paul HERE , HERE  and especially HERE.  While I was sleeping, my love got the call he’s been dreading for the past year.  Paul passed away during the night, and all Chris wanted to do was get to his family’s side.  Like everyone else, he has had to stand by and watch while Paul got sicker, and his amazing mother got more worried, scared, and tired.  Being the main support and care for a terminal cancer patient has got to be one of the most difficult, lonely and gut-wrenching things I have ever witnessed someone go through, and I didn’t see more than a fraction of it.  I am in total awe of Pat, and of her infinite capacity to love and give of herself.  She is truly one of the most amazing women I have ever had the honour to know, and if I am ever half the woman she is, I will be so happy.  I know why Chris is such an incredible man;  He was raised by an incredible woman.  I am so sorry for the pain and heartache she has experienced, and I am glad she has six kids to help carry her for as long as she needs until she is able to learn how to live without cancer.  That may sound like it would be a blessing, but I am pretty sure she would live the rest of her life in Cancertown if it meant that Paul never left.

Having a family member in the grip of this illness is like a never-ending roller coaster of bad news.  There are the endless doctors appointments, and then the sleepless nights waiting for results to come in.  Once a diagnosis is made, there is a treatment plan and the start of a fresh new set of injustices.  Pain and intense sickness from chemotherapy and radiation await the patient, and months of anxiety and strain for the family ensue, everyone wondering if the poison being pumped into the loved ones body is working, and if so, how well?  After months of steady decline in the name of preserving precious days, months, or years of life you begin to realize that the ‘life’ that has been preserved is full of pain so severe it changes the personality of the person, and robs the patient of the ability to enjoy these hard-earned days of extra time.  Honestly, I have no idea how Paul’s family has endured this again, I really don’t.  But the craziest thing of all, is that this scenario is being played out in millions of families all over the world every day.

It is hard to quantify the massive casualties that cancer claims globally each year, but here is some statistics pulled from the World Health Organization (WHO) :

“In the year 2000, malignant tumours were responsible for 12 per cent of the nearly 56 million deaths worldwide from all causes. In many countries, more than a quarter of deaths are attributable to cancer. In 2000, 5.3 million men and 4.7 million women developed a malignant tumour and altogether 6.2 million died from the disease. The report also reveals that cancer has emerged as a major public health problem in developing countries, matching its effect in industrialized nations.”

Let’s break this down a bit.  As of twelve years ago more than 10% of the population died of cancer, and in some countries, it was almost 25%.  Yes, this is a fucking PROBLEM.  This statistic doesn’t illustrate the stories of the millions of people who die, or the billions of people who love those people.  And there doesn’t seem to be a fucking thing we can do about it.  Well, that’s not exactly true, is it?  We can eat better and smarter, quit smoking, and improve our general health, but even so, cancer will still be around, and that’s just a sad, fucking fact.

Tonight I will gather with our family and grieve for a great man.  A man who loved to hunt and fish, loved his family, collected all kinds of cool tractors, was a great ball player, a bit of a scrapper in his day, a husband, a life-long friend and so much more.  I hope that what cancer reduced him to will not be what he is remembered for.  I never knew Paul when he wasn’t a cancer survivor, or a cancer patient, but I enjoy hearing the stories of what he was like.   Tonight I will greet my future Mother-in-law and wonder what words I can say that will let her know that I am so sorry for the loss of her best friend and partner, and for all the pain she has endured because of this horrible fucking disease.  I will try to comfort my future brothers and sisters-in-law, even though I have no idea what could possibly make it better.  I know these are the people I will call family for the rest of my life, and I am so fucking angry that there is now one less of them.  I lost my own father in a moment 4 years ago, and I could tell them that the ache never really goes away, but that they will learn to live with the joy of their memories of their father.  I can grieve with them as a person who loved their dad, and loved her dad, and who knows how hard it is to lose a parent.

Back to the topic at hand, and believe me, I wish I COULD change it.  Cancer sucks.  I hope it never touches my life again, but based on the WHO stats of 12 years ago, I can gather 12 of my favorite people together, and know at least one of them will get it, and almost certainly more.  That makes me sick, and so sad, and it’s just a fact of life.  So I will see you again, Cancer, but I dread your return to my cozy existence.  Fuck You.

What else can I say...

No there ain’t no good in goodbye,


Nov 19

It turns out Abner’s real nickname is Chin. Captain’s log Movember 19, 2011


(Editor’s note – If you want to see more of the adventure, keep clicking the next button at the top right of the post.)



Chinstrap is driving now, or is it Chinster? I’m just going to call him Tim from now on. I don’t have a lot of time to post, but we are fine as frog’s hair. He’s winning the biological warfare battles, but I am winning the snoring contest. There isn’t really a contest, but I need to be good at something, so there you are. We just crossed into Saskatchewan and we’re going to grab a room tonight. I hope he doesn’t give me a Dutch Oven while I’m sleeping, because I have already lost a bunch of nerve function in my hands from his hotboxing; it’s pretty brutal.

For some reason Telus doesn’t want people to use their services between Hearst, ON and the Manitoba/Saskatchewan border. I guess I shouldn’t say that, there was some in Thunder Bay, Kenora and Winnipeg. Apparently the Trans-Canada isn’t a busy enough highway to warrant some towers alongside it’s length in Northern Ontario and Manitoba. Ah well, SK has plenty of service for me to yammer on for a bit. We’ve been munching on our sack of snacks from Asian Fusion in Cobourg. I love their assortment of Filipino treats. I wasn’t allowed to bring a bag of chicken skin chips, because someone didn’t want me having a minor coronary on the way out. Anyhow if you love asian cooking and decor, you should stop in. They’re on Facebook, and in the book.

How about my baby’s post yesterday? I am so in love with her, it’s ridiculous. I honestly am at a loss for words, even still. I miss those three so much today, that it hurts my heart. Anyhow folks, I’m mixing this with the Movember post, because I haven’t had time, and I’m sorry. I miss my routine, of writing on the computer, instead of the phone.

I love you, love you, love you, love you, love you ah-hall,