Sunday, March 13, 2005

Outrage o' the Week

Whooee! Another Sunday rolled around an' Ma an' the kiddies is off t' Sunday school an' listenin' t' that yammerin' preacher. Since I'd jest as soon sleep in my own bed than in them hardass church pews, I stayed home. We gotta sumbitchin' squirrel runnin' around the attic an' in the walls so my plan fer an' extra long sleepy-bye fell through an' I figgered I might jest as well get crackin' on my Outrage boog.

Now, I figger I better put up a warnin' cause there's been sum numbnutses that sed I should get outraged bout different stuff than I do an' there's always sum growsers wanna take the other side an' say that the things that outrage me like murdered eagles or hate-yer-nayber underwear or WalMarket ain't outrageous at all. You don't like my choice o' outrage topic, getcher own damn boog an' make up yer own damn outrage. You think my outrage ain't nothin' t' be pissed off over, jest hop inta the comments an' mebbe I'll offer you up a taste of a JimBobby-flavoured knuckle samwitch.

The thing that's got me chewin' nails an' fartin' tacks this week is a Merkin magazine article where they try t' be funny (leastwise, I hope they're tryin') 'bout Canadee. Well, faithful followers, like ol' Merle Haggard an' I both say,
"When they're runnin' down my country, man,
They're walkin' on the fightin' side of me."
The Merkin magazine I'm talkin' 'bout here is sumpin' called the Weekly Standard an' the story that's givin' me a wedgie is this here Welcome to Canada by a feller calls hisself Matt LeBash. Now, when I seen the name o' that there magazine, it rung a bell fer me an' I pondered a bit tryin' t' recollect where I seen that Merkin Standard name before. Them nice Korean's over t' my corner store, Michael an' Agnes, don't carry the Weekly Merkin Standard in their magazine rack with all the other magazines. Mostly, it looks like they got sexy magazines with a buncha big hooters all flopped out fer the wankers t' gawk at. The Merkin Standard's got too many words an' not enuff pitchers t' make it at ol' Agnes an' Michael's Magic Mart Store.

Finally, it hit me jest where it was I seen that Merkin Weekly Standard name. Whenever I'm over at the hockey rink an' I hafta have a leak, it's right there in front o' my pissin' pecker.

Weekly StandardI been pissin' on this here Standard fer most o' my life since I been outta nappies. I ain't too sure where these fellers who made their mark sellin' pissers an' shitters an' bathtubs got the bright idee they oughta get inta the magazine bizness. I reckon that magazine might make sum good asswipe in a pinch but I expect it'd play hell with my hemmorhoids.

Hell, it give me a pain in the ass an I ain't even used it fer shitpaper.

Now ol' Matt TheBasher wrote 'bout how the Canajuns ain't so friendly an' ain't been kissin' the Merkins' asses as much as we done back in the Basher's good ol' days. He's a long-winded sumbitch, I tell you. Ol' JimBobby blathers on an' on but this here Matthew the gospel writer's got me beat by a country mile. This here article I'm talkin' bout is more'n 5,000 words long. Yeow!

One part he sez the pore ol' Merkins is like them squeegee fellers that run up an' wash yer windows without being asked an' then they ask fer a loonie. I left me a comment on another boog that was talkin' bout this selfsame magazine story so fer the sake o' savin' me sum typewrittin', I'm copyin' what I sed over there.

T' my way o' thinkin', that ol' Matt the Basher paints hisself a funny pitcher. The Merkins with Bushfeller headin' 'em up is sposed to be a buncha pore ol' derelict-drunk-druggies hangin' 'round underneath bridges an' doin' a kinda beggin' fer handouts. Now, in my little wee town we ain't got but one stoplight an' we ain't got a single squeegee feller or gal so I ain't any expert on squeegee folks. I seen sum in Trawna (the centre o' the universe) an' I'm purty sure in Trawna they call 'em squeegee kids an' not men. Mebbe the Merkins gotta older bunch on accounta they got more pore ol' senior citizens an' veterans o' foreign wars an' folks who got their sorry asses bankrupted by hospital bills an' stuff like that an' that makes it so their squeegee folks is older'n here in Canadee.

Ol' Matt's all gorey way o' castin' the Merkins as unfortunate dregs o' society ain't too awful respectful but I reckon he's jest tryin' t' be funny an' mebbe I don't get it or mebbe he's mixed up in his metaphors an' jest a hopskip away from losin' his mind an' his money an' his home an' he might be havin' squeegee men on the brain since he might be joinin' their ranks o' walkin' wounded.

As fer me, I gotta hard ol' time seein' the Merkins as the pore hard-done-by fellers in the world with them being the richest of 'em all. I reckon ol' Matt mebbe figgers Canajuns is like snooty-toot Abraham Lincoln Navigators sittin' at stoplights with big pocketsful o' loonies an' twonies an' that's too mean t' give a handout t' sum pore bastard who rubbed dirty water all over the front window.

Them pore damn squeegee kids need all the help they can get but anybuddy with an' ounce o' sense knows when sum pore drug-addicted, deranged derelict needs help, you shouldn't oughta tell 'em they're on the right track an' pat 'em on the back an' give'm a pile o' money. That'd be no way t' treat a feller human bein', nosiree. The AA folks call that "enabling" an' when one o' yer friends's got a problem yer not sposed t' chip in an' help feed that evil addiction they got messed up with.

Sumtimes good friends gotta be cruel t' be kind, like in that song. When they're all strung out on the power o' drink or drugs or they need sum mental healthcare, they usually can't see that when you don't do what they want you to, it ain't cause yer not their friend but it's more like cause yer a better friend than they think.

Them all gorey stories is tricky an' that's why ol' Matt had troublems with his. My ol' Pappy used t' say - practice makes perfect. Matt Bashfeller jest needs more practice is all.

Well, I first come across this here Basher's tale o' woe when this EdwardTBear pointed me at it in my own comments but I got me a bit of a cyber-psycho-stalker who's out fer my blood by the name o' KateyGal an' she's sayin' ol' Matt's right on the money. Katey's sorta the Annie Get-yer-gun Coulter o' Canadee an' she sez "Indeed," t' the Basher's Canadee-bashin' story.

Small-minded dead rodents

Katey's arch-enemy before she latched onta JimBobby was Inspector Norman an' I seen over t' BoogsCanadee, Normy sez the Basher's an idjit an' he sez this dumbass's funny 5,400 word story in the Merkin Weekly Standard's out t' lunch.

JimBobby sez Katey oughtn't always side with every anti-Canadee idjit that yammers on tryin' t' raise a ruckus. JimBobby agrees a hunnert percents worth with KateyGal's nemesis, Inspector Norman.

Most Merkins ain't Canadee bashers like Matt an' Kate. There's a few numbnutses always tryin' t' start a scrap but most Merkins is good an' decent folks an' they'd be surpised t' see this sorta hate-yer-nayber stuff. So, if there's any Merkins readin' this, don't listen t' that dumbass Matt theBasher or his cyber-mistressgal, Katey. Canajuns is a lot like Merkins an' we jest wanna have our own country where we can deal our softwood 2x4's an' beefsteaks t' good Merkin customers who shouldn't oughta be payin' through the nose on accounta the lobbies an' activist judges and Democrass senators.

Now I hope yer all happy as Larry that I put up them two pitchers an' saved you 2,000 words o' readin'. I'm always thinkin' o' my readers, no two ways.

Yores trooly,
JimBobby

13 comments:

Anonymous said...

Yea though I walk through the blogovalley of raucous cacophony, Hark! I hear the call of the loon echoing through the hinterland (queue National Film Board soundtrack). Such clarity of tone and haunting harmony. And lo, it's him again, JimBobby.

Anonymous said...

Envy toward Americans? For what? Their annual homicide rate? Their gated communities? Their stellar international reputation? Their "war president"? Perhaps their prevailing paranoia that underlys these things. Maybe we should envy them the patriot act, or the military mentality that excuses things like the goings on at Guatanamo Bay. I suppose their claim to the world's worst polluter is admirable as well. 40 million citizens with no health insurance? Cool. "Abstinence only" sex ed - very clever. Rampant homophobia - very appealing. Ethnic profiling - how progressive. Their total disregard for international treaties (like NAFTA) - very cavalier. Their -what is it - some trillion dollar national deficit? Or maybe I should be like the right wingnuts in Canada and envy them their disdain for my country. I guess I'll just try to get used to living in a country where I don't fear my neighbour of a different colou/sexuality. Where my government is more interested in keeping me healthy than chasing hypothetical missiles. Where the loss of a soldier or a mountie is national news because we so value life. I'll do my best to overcome my envy.

Anonymous said...

I don't think I'd get my knickers too knotted up about it JimBobby.... every community has at least one fella that just ain't happy unless he's bitching about something - the US is just that fella in the international community.

They need our oil, our hydro, and our water just a shade too much to go too much further down the road than a bit 'o Canuck bashing... I wonder if Bashar knows about that?

Anonymous said...

And...before anyone slanders me as "Anti American" let me just say...I also don't envy dogs' propensity to sniff each other's butts - but I still really like dogs.

JimBobby said...

Whooee! Thankee all fer chimin' in. Petefeller, it's the "picky insults" that pissed me off. If the Basher's bigass story weren't full o' dumbass picky insults, I wouldn't o' made it my Outrage o' the Week. An' I ain't on yer side when it comes t' prostratin' myself in front ol' Queen Liz an' her brood o' inbred younguns. Them blue-bloods ain't a lick better'n you or me an' Canadee oughta be livin' in the 21st century. We ain't booted 'em far enuff yet, sez I. An' I ain't a Liberal as anybuddy can tell.

PrincessGal, I ain't talkin' 'bout you when I'm growsin' 'bout the royal family. I'm guessin' that yer Princess name ain't any more real than my JimBobby name. If yer a real live neice o' yer auntie Queen Liz, though, I ain't bowin' down or kissin' yer ring or walkin' backwards outta the room. You ain't a real princess, I don't think, on accounta yer too sensible.

Stage Coach Driver, yer a good friend fer thinkin' o' my pore damn ulcerated belly an' how I get myself all bent outta shape over sum stuff. I reckon mebbe I oughta try doin' sum o' them yogurt exercises an' say "ummmm, ummmmm, ummmm" more often. Thankee fer the warnin'.

I was jest over t' ol' Katey's boog where she's tellin' everybuddy I'm a nasty reactionary loser who can't take a teeny bit o' critcical advice. Seems like she's got sum other fellers an' gals think the selfsame thing in her comments department an' they figger I ain't nuthin' but an idjit an' they sez I oughta be takin' KateyGal's advice an' quit my way o' writin' so's they ain't all confuddled an' pie-eyed as cows knee-deep in quicksand.

It was when I seen them callin' me an idjit, I got out the bigass photoshop artillery an' made that nasty reactionary pitcher in this boog story. Like I sed before, sum pore illiterates is slow on the uptake. Ol' Monte Soilburger found that out last week with that Martyr Luther King satire that sum folks got all riled about. Now, Katey an' her rabble are doin' like them folks did t' ol' FullMonty when they couldn't understand what he sed.

Yores trooly,
JimBobby

alsocanadian said...

Hey, Jimbob.

I guess if you're not pissin someone off, you're not doin it right. Or you have a blog about your kitty cat. No, wait, that would piss me off!

JimBobby said...

Whooee! AlsoFeller, I gotta kittycat, alright, but she's 'bout as useless as tits on a steer. If she catches that sumbitchin' squirrel that's runnin' through my walls, I jest might put up her pitcher on my boog. Mostly, she jest lays on the heat register an' cooks herself an' don't pay no tension to the scratchin' an' chewin' goin' on inside o' the livin' room wall.

Yores trooly,
JimBobby

Anonymous said...

JimBobby...don't ever take on Kate McMillan...or "The Kate", as everyone in the Canadian blogosphere has come to know her. She is relentless; she is indefatiguable, she is..well, a right fucking bitch, actually. She's a Canadian version of Michelle Malkin and Ann Coulter (you know this already). Even if you point out how profoundly, irretrievably, no-holds-barred wrong she is, she'll never admit it and never apologise. What she'll do is rear up at you and make fun of whatever personal details she's managed to glean from her interaction with you.

The rational person in me says that Kate McMillan is simply a sad case of borderline personality disorder. The Catholic boy in me thinks she's Pazuzu.

Either way, best stay clear. Better people than you or me have tried and failed.

Anonymous said...

Ti - Guy,

Ann and Rachel and Kate aren't so scary. They're just some ladies in serious need of ice cubes...to chew on.
I can say that cause I'm a girl.

Anonymous said...

Princess Monkey, you're not a-scared of them? Because I sure am. I'll be weilding my beads, crucifix and holy water from now on.

Picture me at the Four Seasons in Toronto, about to interview the hottest, prettiest new consevative blogger on the Internet. Suddenly I shriek, make my two index fingers into a cross, and scream...all of a sudden, Buffy, the Kate-Slayer...

By the way, I don't get the ice-cube thing, at all.

Anonymous said...

Ti - Guy,
Sorry, it must be a back-woods-hick-royalty type saying. The idea is that when certain needs go unmet...certain frustrations accumulate...all to be aleviated (somewhat so the saying goes) by chomping on ice cubes. There you go...don't say I never taught ya nothin.

Anonymous said...

Heh, heh. Thank you, Princess Monkey.

JimBobby said...

Whooee! Thankee fer that warnin', Ti-Guy, but I reckon this ol' fox is already loose in KateyGal's henhouse. I'm sorta thinkin' she'll figger out how t' read my way o' wrintin' or elsewise she'll slink off an' not pay any tension.

She ain't got any sense o' the ha-ha an' she eats outta my hyperbole like she was chompin' inta a bole o' Red River Cereal. It's a funny thing fer anybuddy t' think ol' JimBobby's got his tent pitched in the Big "L" campground. Sum o' the Big L fellers think mebbe I'm in the Big C camp.

I am sorta camped in a "C" camp an' the C stands fer Commonsense an' not Conservative. Sumtimes, I get myself lined up with the Con-men an' sumtimes I'm alongside o' Fartin' Martin's gang. It all depends on who's talkin' sensible an' who's talkin' horsepuckey. Neither the HarpoonTosser nor PollyWolly Fartin' Martin or even ol' HappyJack Laydown's DippyWips got a monopoly on horsepuckey.

Yores trooly,
JimBobby