Oct 20

Therapy Thursdays

Yo Birdman

I have a private question for your advice column. I take it from your blog you are a smoker so here goes…. The guy I was goin to for years is out of the business. I’m looking for someone in the area who can hook me up from time to time. I’m hoping you know someone I might be able to meet. I’m dying here if you could help me out at all I’d really appreciate it.. Thanks Birdman.

Dry and Grounded

Dear Dry and Grounded,

I take it from your demeanor that you have glaucoma or anxiety, and are legally allowed to use marijuana for medical reasons, so I will answer your question.

First of all, I am unable to use marijuana, because of possible drug testing for work, so I am not in anyway an expert on finding a disreputable dispenser of cannabis or it’s derivatives.

That said, I can tell you about a fellow that deals only in the finest medical-grade herbal medicine available. If you go and hang out in front of the mall after 4pm, you will see a guy in a checkered coat. Mention in passing, that the weather is hard on your joints, nerves, eyes or whatever and he will make a call. Don’t ask questions, and don’t stare at his goiter, just get in the black A-Team style van that pulls up. Remember, don’t stare at his goiter.

When you get the things you need, you should head to the Intergalactic Trading Company at 410 1/2 George St N, Peterborough ON, K9H 3R5 (705)-749-3070 and grab yourself a pipe, or a vaporizer for ummmmm, incense.

Enjoy the rest of your day,





Now, hold the phone, Dry, if that is indeed your ‘real’ name.  I suspect you realize that MaryJane is neither lawful or recommended under current Canadian law.  I haven’t checked lately, but the last time I heard of someone firing up a spliff in public, there were handcuffs involved.   The police pooh-pooh the use of illegal narcotics in this province, and in all the others too, I suppose.

In the immortal words of Mr. Garrison:


However, in the event that my stern warning falls on deaf ears, I want to share a cautionary tale with you.

Once upon a time, there was a young man who loved to curl up with a big gagger and relax on his days off.   One terrible day, he realized that his supplies were getting dangerously low, due to the fact that his rat-faced roommate had been dipping into his secret stash on the sly.

That very day, the young man set out on an epic journey to find some sweet, sweet green.  He met with blank stares and apathy, until one kind soul pointed him to the very gentleman outside the mall with the goiter and the shifty eyes.  After making the required small talk, the black van appeared, and he was unceremoniously shoved into it’s waiting cargo area.

Three days later he awoke in a bathtub filled with ice, and down one kidney.

"Hey...I was USING that!"


All I can say is that if I ever need a kidney, the Birdman is all tapped out.  I think you know what I am getting at here.  At least SOMEONE should learn from the Birdman’s mistake.

Smoke ’em if you got ’em,

Mrs. Birdman

Oct 17

My Movember rebuttal


Listen here, folks, I have something to say about the recent hateful comments that have been made against facial hair.

I am no stranger to beard hate, in fact, you might say that I thrive on it. You see, when I was in high school, I grew two, dime-sized tufts of beard, one on each side of my chin. I thought it was pretty cool that at the age of 14, I was finally becoming a man. Sadly, the rest of the school, and my family, was not as receptive to my new found manliness as I was, so I underwent a good deal of taunting. I’m sure a lesser man would have been crippled by the sheer brutality of the jeers and lambasting that I had to endure, but I just kept my cool, vowing to emerge a bearded wonder of the world.

Fast forward several years, to when I could finally grow a thicket on my leathery face, but the women were always using it as an excuse to not have sex with me. I decided to shave it off in the interest of casual sex, or even a kiss, but lo and behold, it turns out that smoking cigarettes was also a turn off. I quit smoking, tried again, and was thwarted for what would be the third of several attempts to have the intercourse. When I had finally quit every bad habit I had, I was presented with the option to bump uglies with a lovely lass from a place that shall not be named. I was told that we should go out for drinks, and then to my place, so I cleaned the joint up and got the dead groundhog smell out of the bedroom, (don’t ask) to impress this grey eyed beauty. We went out and she drank several double Grand Marniers (at $11 a pop), before making out and leaving with… A BEARDED FUCKING MAN. So to all of you naysayers and beard sceptics who say that I shouldn’t grow a beard, I say: “Ok Baby, I won’t grow one when I’m near you, but any time I get a chance to show off my lumberjack look, I’m taking it”

Ladies, love yourselves a moustachioud man this Movember, and let him tickle your fancy with it. When he’s done, slip a sawbuck into his pocket, and donate a couple more to his Mo space. He’ll thank you, men’s cancer research will thank you, but most of all, that itch will be scratched and you can put those fantasies about Magnum to rest.

Don’t tell your old man that I told you to do that,


Oct 16

Down with Movember. (The mustache part, not the good-cause part)


(I feel i have to preface this post again by saying I am not putting down the Movember movement per se.  I just want to rant about the mustache part.)

Here we are…just a few short weeks away from the first of November, which also heralds the kick-off for the Movember campaign.  If you have lived under a rock in recent years, you may not know that otherwise clean-shaven men attempt to grow a thick, lush mustache to raise awareness for men’s cancers.  Their resultant ‘mo’s’ are symbolically shaved off 30 days later.

Let me state for the record that I’m not against mustaches or beards in general; Just on men I have to kiss. Of course, that is really just Birdman.

I have so many reasons that I despise mustaches, but let’s start off with the obvious, it looks bad.  It’s like telling the world that you don’t give a shit that your face looks like you are a neanderthal.  You can go ahead and trim it, shape it and generally try to mold it into something you can be proud of, but it still looks like ass.  It is the facial hair equivalent of wearing Crocs.

Also, it seems to me that some men were just not meant to have a full face of swarthy, masculine hair.  Sure, it’s fine for the Tom Selleck types, with their dashing good looks and their devil-may-care attitudes, but for the rest of the men, the job of hair growing should be strictly delegated to the legs, arms and to a lesser degree, the groin.  For most men, they are not wearing the beard:  The beard is wearing them.  Fashion fail.

In the department of TMI, facial hair is also a bit of a sensitive-skin offender.  No one loves getting thisclose with 1o days of stubble.  Some fellas insist their mustaches only get softer over time, but I ask you this:  Would you rather wipe with toilet paper or with sand paper? It’s THAT kind of a difference, brother.  I’m just sayin’….

Sadly, Movember will be observed by Birdman, but I will not be privy to see it personally.  He will be nether-regions-deep in the pursuit of fast money in the oil patch this November, and I will only see his glorious pursuit of a man-beard via Skype.  Although I will be able to see it’s humble beginnings sprout forth into maturity over the interwebs, that puppy will be seeing the business end of a razor before he makes his trek back across the frozen tundra to the cocoon.  In one last act of defiance against my beardist tyranny, he will shave it down into new and horrifying versions and take photos to share and horrify me, and most certainly, you.

I’d like to know where you got the notion to rock the boat, baby,

Mrs. Birdman

Oct 16

Something on a Sunday

All right, I’m not giving you any real post today, it’s more of a piss and moan.

We got this question for Therapy Thursdays and the fun police put the kibosh on it, so I thought I would put it in as an aside, mainly because I have nothing for this post, but mostly to plead to you people to help us out here. This is the only question we have, and it’s horrible. I’m afraid that we will have to steal a Dear Abby or something. I guess the fact is, that not only do you have no problems, you lack the enthusiasm to make a problem up. We aren’t picky over here, I just need something to do, and Mrs. Birdman needs something to disagree with me about. Her day isn’t complete until she has scolded me for something, and seeing as I’m almost perfect, this is all we have.

Anyhow, here’s the question from someone we won’t name, because we know the locals are a rough lot, and we fear for his safety. It may be true that the Big Apple Gang has been forced into hiding since they murdered the cobbler, and those three pears were found in the shallow grave in Brighton, but the members are still around and they are a bunch of rotters.

Dear Bird,

Where can I find the best whores of Colbourne? Do they hang out at the big apple?


Seriously, this is what we have to work with. I’m actually a little embarrassed for us, not because of the question, or the poor spelling and grammar, but because this friend of ours could be so ignorant and stupid. Everybody knows that the best whores hang out at the laundromat,but not the well lit one, the one by the dollar store.

Hit up the graphic above for the email, or go to the Harass Us page in that title bar thingy, or I’m sure we’ll be answering this simple bastard’s questions every week.

Keep the rock alive,


Oct 15

Occupy your mind

Do you know what’s wrong with the Occupy Wall Street movement? It’s just not going to work. Mainly because we as a people are too stupid to quit giving these greedy pricks our money. How can I blame Samsung for charging me $700 for a phone, when I’m standing there, waving money and saying “Gimme, gimme, gimme”? Yeah, I’m in the same boat over here. That would be pretty hypocritical of me as I sit here eating my Doritos, typing on my Android and sucking back a Pepsi Max, to call someone else stupid for giving in to it. I’m already enough of a hypocrite, without adding that to the pile. We seem to want everyone else to have our money, because we feel entitled to get everything we desire. I mean it, we think that because we go to work at whatever job we do, we should take our paycheque to Walmart or Costco, and buy a ton of shit that we don’t need.

Go home, grab a shower and look for a job in the country

That’s right, we don’t need it, we want it. There’s a huge difference between the two that not many of us can see. I need water, food and some sort of a shelter, I want a fancy phone, to eat at a Thai restaurant, and a new laptop. Do you see the difference? I should not be borrowing money for a car, but I should be borrowing money for food, if my family is hungry. We need to eat, we don’t need a $70 satellite TV bill every month, especially when a library card is free, and the children today could really use a good book. Is it a necessity that I am sending my words through the internet to you? Fuck no, it sure isn’t. This is a luxury, and the people who make money off of this thing, should be doing so as a hobby after they’ve gone out and weeded their garden, or finished baking their weeks worth of bread, or something along those lines.

I’m not saying you should go this far, but you can if you want to. Just ask bruncle Jimmy

You know what I mean, do something productive, and don’t give Galen Weston $3.49 for a loaf of God damned bread (seriously, it was leavened). Learn to bake your own things, make your own furniture, or grow your own food, and sell that shit to your neighbours. Better yet, trade your shit, for their shit, because we all know that your strawberry jam is three notches above the taste of a skunks asshole, and your neighbour couldn’t grow tomatoes if his life depended on it. Find something you love, and are fairly good at, and run with it. Force your friends to buy things you’ve made, and you buy things that they’ve made. No money goes to China or India, unless you are buying tea, because that’s what they do there. Next time you are looking for a new table, don’t go to the fucking Brick and buy a piece of garbage table that’s made in a factory somewhere. It’s not going to last you for a lifetime like a handmade, wooden table that was crafted by someone in your area. The problem is that you may have to pay more than $249 for it, but you know what? It’s a major piece of furniture, and you should spend some dough to obtain it, you won’t though, because there are these really cool DVD box sets coming out this month that you just have to have, or maybe you don’t get your two extra large double doubles from Timmies each day for a year.

When I was out west, I bought a longbow off of this eccentric fellow that made these beautiful, ornate and functional bows. It cost me about the same as going to the store and buying a Chinese-made, mass-produced bow from a local chain store. This guy created a work of art, probably spending fifty hours and a bunch of money on it and he couldn’t make a living at that because people would rather go out and get something off the shelf, than go out and get Jim to measure them up and build them a one of a kind masterpiece. That makes me sad, and a little bit angry. We have completely lost our way in our push for advancement. I don’t think we are going forward at all, but it doesn’t mean we can’t change the way we do business in the future. I look around at my neighbours and wonder what kinds of things they might make as a hobby. Maybe it’s wooden hobby horses, soap, or rocking chairs. Maybe Christmas, a birthday or some other gift giving celebration is coming up and you’re wondering what to get your aunt. Instead of getting her a gift card from Zellers (or Target now), get her some handmade bath oils, candles, or whatever else she’d like.

Click the pic for Northumberland Soapworks website

So go forth on your journey for fiscal equality and post something on your bulletin board, Facebook or local paper, asking if anyone makes a certain thing you’re looking for. You could also check the local thrift shops to find a good quality used whatchamacallit that needs a good home, and be proud that your hard earned dollars are going to support someone you know or live near, or even have heard of for that matter, and not into the pockets of whoever owns Canadian Tire, Hudson’s Bay Company or Walmart. Do you think the multimillion dollar executives of those companies give two shits about whether or not you get to eat next week? They don’t, and there’s a good chance that they find humour in the fact that you spend all of your dough buying their shitty products, while they are spending their unlimited supply of money on stuff that we will probably never get to see in person.

Hello Detroit auto workers, let me thank you for your time,


This is my submission for Dude Write 5, or maybe it was 6. Either way, I’m submitting it. Oh, and go check out the fantastic writers there.