Thursday, March 31, 2005

Hailin' Bullets

Whooee! Here's a good one from offa the CBC. This ol' gal out in Edmonton's sleepin' in 'er bed when a big ol' bullet comes through her ceilin' an' lands smack on her chest. I reckon the bullet musta lost sum power after going through the roof. Most times sumbuddy takes a large calibre bullet in the chest they don't live t' tell about it.
EDMONTON - An Edmonton woman had a rude awakening Thursday morning – when a bullet tore through her bedroom ceiling and hit her in the chest.

Jane Amurao was awakened at about 4 a.m. by a pain in her chest.

"I thought I was just dreaming," said Amurao, 48. "I thought it's just somebody in my dream, somebody hit me in the chest.

"And then we wake up, there's a hole in our ceiling, then suddenly we see that there's a bullet in our bed."
Yeow! I reckon mebbe it's safest sleepin' down in the basement.

Yores trooly,

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Socks fer the Sockless

Whooee! I jest seen a CP story in the Yahoo News that warmed the cockles o' my toes. There's this here sock-knittin' outfit name o' Macgregor that makes them there Happy Foot socks an' they're givin' away 6500 pairs o' socks t' the pore ol' homeless fellers an' gals in Victoria out in BC.

By the sounds of it, all it took was sumbuddy askin' n' bein' persistent an' the sock-makers finally sed okay they'd give away 13000 socks. The sumbuddy who was puttin' the squeeze on the clan Macgregor was a feller named Michael Bloomfield. I ain't sure if he's the selfsame Michael Bloomfield who plays hisself a mean-ass blues guitar. I wonder if them sock-makers mebbe thought it was Michael Bloomberg who sits in the mayor's office down in New York City.
McGregor Socks, Canada's largest sock manufacturer, donated 6,500 pairs of socks to Victoria's homeless after a Victoria resident decided to call the company's head office in Toronto last fall.

"I just looked on the Internet and said, 'who's the chairman?"' Michael Bloomfield said Wednesday.

"I sent a letter and followed it up with a phone call and just kept (the chairman) on the phone until we had a Yes," he said. "We have people in need here. I appealed to him to help us here."
They done a good thing, sez I.

Yores trooly,

Monday, March 28, 2005

Boogers Anonymous

Whooee! Well, boogreaders, I been spendin' sum time in the Canajun boogeysphere where they been yammerin' 'bout anonymous boogin' an' fellers like ol' JimBobby who don't let on who they really are. It started when ol' Elvis over t' BoogsCanadee got hisself a nasty ol' email from sum numbnuts who sed ol' Elvis was pitchin' his tent in the Liberal campground an' everythin' on the BoogsCanadee was all against the Big C Conservative Party o' Canadee.

Most everybuddy sed the bitchin' growser was all wet an' they figger ol' Elvis's Egroup is kinda lefty but's got sum righthand side o' the fence fellers an' gals writin' up boog stories there, too. Turned out this complainin' feller was using the name David St Hubbins an' everybuddy sez that ain't his real name on accounta it's really the name of a feller in that Spinal Tap movie from 1980 sumthin'.

That got everybuddy yammerin' 'bout anonymous an' fake name boogers. That's me. I ain't ever told my real name an' I ain't gonna, neither. Sum big brand-name boogers like ol' Inspector Norm sez they figger everybuddy should use their real names when they do their boogin'. Yeow! That'd cut me out. It'd cut out a whole mess o' other top-notch, no-name boogers. Anyways, who made Inspector Norm king o' the internet?

Ol' PoogyWoogy BugleBoy is a booger who writes stories onta his own boog an' also t' the BoogsCanadee Egroup boog. He ain't tellin' his real name an' why should he? I drop over an' read ol' PoggeBoy a few times a week an' he sez sum smart stuff 'bout the damn WalMarket an' 'bout that pore sumbitch Arar who the horseyback-ridin' policefellers got sent over t' Syria so's he could get all tortured. Ol' Pogge's a smart feller an' a good writer. I ain't gotta know his real name t' see he makes sense.

Ol' Pogg's got hisself a big ol' boog story onta the Egroup called The people's medium 'bout this whole brand-name vs. no-name. It's gettin' a lot o' comments an' there's sum good readin' there.

Now, there's a coupla other boogers talkin' 'bout this anonyBoogin'. Ol' Jerry Aldini whose real name is Matt has got hisself a boog story called People Are Not Their Arguments that's all on this here hot topic. An' my boogin' buddy JameseyBoy Bow has a big boog on the selfsame thing called Who Am I.

I figger this is the new media an' it's the wild west an' there ain't too many rules. So far, nobuddy sez I can't be JimBobby, the anonymous booger. I don't reckon I'm hurtin' nobuddy by havin' a secret identity an' like I sed to a few dumbasses who were growsin' 'bout my way o' writin' -
you don't like it, jest change the channel.

Yores trooly,

Sunday, March 27, 2005

Outrage o' the Week

Whooee! This week fer my weekly rantin' ravin' outrage boog story, I'm takin' on the biggest gunslinger of 'em all - George W. Bush, President o' the Universe. Ol' Dubya's got his priorities screwed on in the wrong places, sez I.

Most folks remember the Columbine school shootin' when a coupla high school nutjobs came t' school an' killed 15 people. It was all over the news fer weeks an' every public official was up on his hind legs spoutin' off on what tragedy it was an' how it ought never happen again. Well, it did happen again last Monday when a Native American nutjob in Minnysoty went inta his school an' shot dead 7 kids an' that was after he'd already killed his grandma an' grandpappy. Then he killed his own self.

What's got me chewin' nails an' fartin' tacks is the idee that Bushfeller waited til yesterday before sayin' diddly-all 'bout this here bigass massacre. Meantime, he makes a special airplane trip jest so he can stick his nose inta the Terry Shiavo ethical medicine show. How come it took GeorgieBoy 6 days t' come out an' say sumpin' 'bout the terrible shootin'?

Think o' how quick all our Canajun polytickal bigshots jumped up an' sed mostly the right things when them 4 horseyback policefellers got shot. Compare that t' Bushfeller waitin' 6 days t' get up on his hind legs when it's sum First Nations people gettin' all murdered. Sum o' the Merkin Native fellers ain't too happy with BushieBoy, no two ways.
Clyde Bellecourt, a Chippewa Indian who is the founder and national director of the American Indian Movement in Red Lake, said Bush's response came too late. "He should have been the first one to reach out to the Red Lake Indian community," he said.
I reckon ol' GeorgeDubya mebbe hadta consult with his Pentagon advisors an' Charlton Chestnut before he could open his yap an' say what needed sayin'. This here bizness o' kids killin' kids with guns ain't right. There's a buncha Natives in Minnysotee feelin' a world o' hurt. Their president oughta been standin' alongside o' them right away an' not 6 days later.

Yores trooly,

Saturday, March 26, 2005

Puttin' the Screws t' Putin

Ol' Vlad has a headache. Whooee! Pore ol' Vlad the Impaler Putin's got hisself a throbbin' headache on accounta he ain't doin' so shit hot lately in the polytickal chess-playin' game. Ol' Raspy Putin's pawns ain't been stayin' on the board cause they been gettin' knocked down by sum grassy roots democracy movements. The latest loser Putin's been backin' is this here Askar Akayev over in a little place they call Kyrgyzstan. Jest like they tried doin' in Georgia an' Ukraine not too long ago, these here Kyrgyzs had a crooked election vote that sed ol' Putin's boy's the winner. The rabble in the streets knows that ain't true an' they ain't takin' it lyin' down.

'Bout a hunnert thousand o' these Kyrgyzs came out in the streets an' fought fer a fair vote an' I seen sum o' that street fightin' on the TV an' them Kerrgees was takin' a shitkickin' an' not backin' off. In the end, it was the crooked gummint's copfellers who backed off an' the cheatin' Akayev packed up his bags an' went cryin' off t' his buddy Vladimr up in Moscow. Now, they got the opposin' side's feller runnin' the show but he sez he's gonna get a fair election vote happenin' right smartly.

More power t' these here democracy fighters, sez I.

Yores trooly,

Friday, March 25, 2005

On the Road

Whooee! I jest seen that I give my little boog post the selfsame title as that there book by that Jack Kerouac feller the beatnik guy from the 1950's - On the Road. My boog story ain't gonna be all deep an' esoterical like the French-Canajun boy from Massachusettes, KerouacFeller.

Ma an' I an' the younguns piled in the chugmobile fer a trip t' Ma's little sister's place in Penetang on the Georgian Bay. Ma did the drivin' an the navigatin' both. She turned fifty or sixty corners an' went down sum bumpy ol' two-laners but we got here in one day an' didn't hafta look fer a motel that'd take the eight of us an' ol' Spot, too. Ma's sister's named MarillaBird an' her manfeller's named BobJimmy. Ain't that a coinkydink?. My ol' Pappy was a BobJimmy, too.

Well now, faithful Good Friday readers, BobJimmy my brother-in-law has got hisself this great huge lump of a slobberin' St. Barnyard dog. The big feller's name is Austin, like Austin Powers, but they call'm Oxen on accounta he's big as an ox. Here's a pitcher -

Ol' Oxen sits his big ass down onta the chesterfield like he's sum sorta human bein'. He seems a purty good ol' boy an good thing, sez I, cause I reckon he could take off ol' Spot's head in a single bite. I hear tell sum psychoFreudians got sum theories 'bout fellers who get great huge slobberin' dogs. Brother-in-law BobJimmy's probbly a textbook case.

Anyways, I ain't got any polytickal analyzin' t' give you today on accounta the big road trip we took an' spendin' 4 an' a haff hours makin' a 2 an' a haff hour trip. It looks like there's sum polytickal smoke on the horizon, though. Ol' Harpoon sez his fellers an' gals ain't gonna pass ol' Good Ale's budget. That could mean we Canajuns're headed fer an election vote soon.

Yores trooly,

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Ol' Martin's New Buddy

Whooee! Well, yesterday while my coalie dog was playin' host t' his new friend, GeorgieBoy Bushfeller was playin' host t' a coupla naybers. Pryminister PollyWolly Fartin' Martin an' Vincentay el Zorro, the Fox, got the invite fer visitin' Dubya's ranch down in Texas. I guess they had some birds an' crayfish fer lunch an' gabbed a bit an' then sed they's gonna try t' be good naybers.

So far, I ain't heard nuthin' 'cept Dubya an' ol' Fartin' Martin got along palsy-walsy enuff. I din't hear if they got the guns out an' did any squirrel shootin' or horseyback ridin'. I ain't heard whether they sang any songs around the campfire like When Brian's Eyes Were Smilin' .

Ol' Dubya sed after that they're gonna do stuff t' make tradin' back an' forth across the border easier an' they're gonna work together on keepin' the evil damn terrists from invadin' North Americky. They didn't have any specifics an' Bushfeller sed he knew there was a few minor flies in the ointment like softwood 2x4's an' all this madness over BSE. Fer Bushfeller, them's minor troublems but fer Canajuns, them's bankruptin' troublems. Sounds like nuthin' got moved t' the front burner.

At least ol' Polly Wolly got hisself an invite t' the President o' the Universe's ranch. That's better'n ol' Johnny Cretin could do. Now that Fartin' Martin's been t' Georgie Dubya's home an' broke bread with'm, I reckon he'll be on the inside track with BushyBoy. That might not be enuff, though. Some fellers's sayin' that it don't matter what ol' Bushfeller sez, it's the damn senators an' congressfellers who's puttin' the screws t' Canadee in the 2x4 an' cattle drovin' bizness.

Well, sez I, when Bushfeller wanted t' go t' war in EyeRack, he got his way. If he really wants t' make things happen on these here tradin' back an' forth troublems, he can do it. I reckon he ain't really wanted to, so far. Mebbe now that he an' Polly Wolly's all buddy-buddy he'll kick that congress's ass inta gear an' get these damn tradin' troublems patched up once an' fer all.

Yores trooly,

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Ol' Spot's New Buddy

Whooee! I'm late postin' up my boog story today on accounta I got company here from outta town. My buddy Jonfeller showed up with his coalie dog, Buddy. Buddy's been here before over a year ago but Ol' Spot never met Buddy til this afternoon. So far, so good. Ol' Spot's a frisky little neutered feller an' Buddy's a male stud with nuts. They both can be testy with other dogs so Jonfeller an' I were wonderin' if they'd mebbe tear each other's throats out when they met.

Good news is they got along fine. We let 'em meet each other outside the house them we took 'em down t' the soybean field an' turned 'em loose. They chased some sticks an' sniffed each other's asses an' seem t' be happy as Larry. After they ran around together fer 40 minutes or so, they're jest like Ink an' Spink.

Ol' Spot invited Buddy inta the house an' they been playin' nice together inside an' only snarled once, so far. Here's their pitcher -

Ol' Spot's the black an' white coalie dog an' Buddy's the brown an' white coalie dog. Spot's 'bout 16 months old. Buddy's about 8 years.

Well, faithful readers, like I sed, I got company from outta town an' there's some refreshments an' mind-adulteratin' drugs t' be had. I'll come back tomorrow with a scathin' polytickal analysis. Today, yer gettin' human interest.

Yores trooly,

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Milly Parker Bowlin-Pin, the next Queen o' Canadee

Milly Paker BowlinPinWhooee! Here's a pitcher o' the next Queen o' Canadee. Sum Canajuns ain't onta the fact that ol' Queen Liz ain't jest Queen o' Merrie Olde Englande. She's Queen o' Canadee, too. An' now ol' Prince JugEars is marryin' up with his longtime mistressgal, Milly Parker Bowlin-Pin. Milly sez she don't wanna be Queen o' England but it's lookin' like if she marries Chuckie, she's gonna be queen whether she wants t' be or she don't.

I reckon mebbe when they have the changin' o' the guard an' ol' Lizzie gives up the ghost, that'd be a good time fer Canadee t' give the royal pains in the ass the ol' heave-ho. Lord thunderin'! T' think we still bow an' scrape fer blue-bloods in the civilized world an' in the 21st century.

Yores trooly,

Monday, March 21, 2005

Big News! Polyticians Not Trusted

Whooee! I jest seen a CP story in the Yahoo News that's all about a 'pinion pool on "Who do you trust?" Big surprise. Hardly anybuddy trusts polyticians.

Politicians and automobile vendors continued to fare poorly in a poll of the most admired professions, while firefighters, nurses and farmers still were among the most trusted.

The Leger Marketing poll conducted March 1-8 suggested that 16 per cent of Canadians trusted politicians, two percentage points higher than their level in a similar poll a year ago.

Car salespeople were trusted by 18 per cent, one point down from last year.

Yessir, we even trust them shady car salesmen more'n we trust the good fellers an' gals we send up the river t' Ottywa or t' the mayor's office or t' Queens Park. We elected 'em. Why can't we trust 'em?

I reckon we got ourselves t' blame. With polyticians an' car salesmen alike, they jest tell us what we wanna hear. Car salesman tells us a pie in the sky story how it's a great little buggy an' the price is right. Polyticians's always gettin' up on stumps an' promisin' pies up in the sky if we'd only cast our vote in their direction. If they din't lie to us we'd never elect 'em an' we'd never buy a car from 'em. We make 'em lie an' then we blame 'em fer doin' it.

Kinda funny, too, folks trust polyticians more this year than they did last year. Shee-it! AdScam's all over the news an' trust in polyticians is goin' up.

Looks like everybuddy trusts the firemen, nurses an' farmers. I reckon that's on accounta we don't make 'em lie to us.

Yores trooly,

Sunday, March 20, 2005

Outrage o' the Week

Whooee! Faithful readers know that every Sunday I been writin' up a boog story called Outrage o' the Week. You probbly been checkin' in every ten minutes t' see if I got my weekly growsin' posted up. I'm in a fix today on accounta I don't have anything too terrible outrageous gnawin' at me. I see now that I shoulda saved up that boog story I posted up yesterday 'bout the shoppin' carts. So now we got Sunday mornin' turned inta Sunday afternoon an' JimBobby ain't got an outrage. I'll jest blather on 'bout a few minor annoyances that aren't really outrages but they'll have to do.

Ma an' I jest had a bit o' fun bathin' ol' Spot. Ma din't end up with any wounds but I got myself what ol' Grissom calls defensive wounds on my hands an' wrists. Ol' Spot ain't really old. He's jest a pup about 16 months old. Up til today, he liked havin' a bath. We ain't sure what got into'm but - Lord Thunderin' - he went right nutty when Ma started in t' pourin' the rinse water over his back. Yeow! That's when I got wounded. We hadta keep at it til he was all rinsed an' he was tryin' t' climb up the tile walls an' jump outta the tub the whole time. I sed it was like bathin' a coyote an' I reckon that ain't far off.

That was an annoyance but it weren't an outrage.

Outrages are things like when the RCMP an' the prosecutin' lawyers spend 20 years buildin' a case an' it's full o' holes.

stoopid pinOutrages are when numbnutses like ol' Ezra go t' Montreal an' pass out pins sayin' the Charter's stupid. Canajuns love the charter an' even an Alien Albert like Ezra oughta known that.

Outrages are when WalMarket gets fined fer usin' illegal immigrant labour an' makin' 'em work 7 days a week. Ol' Peter Jennings sez WalMarket'll make the $11 million in jest 22 minutes. Half a million a minute an' they're usin' illegals an buyin' everything they sell from commonist Red China.

Sumpin' that ain't an outrage but's been grindin' my gears fer a long while is these here sticky tickets that the IGA puts onta every damn tomater an' zucchini an' apple an' pepper. The IGA pays sum young boys t' stick all them stickers t' every damn vegetable jest so's the young girls who's runnin' the cashbox know it's a tomater an' not a grape.

Way I figger, if they can't tell what kinda vegetable yer buyin', they shouldn't oughta be allowed t' handle the money.

Another damn annoyin' thing is I jest looked out my window an' I see there's sum snow comin' down. When's it gonna end?

Yores trooly,

Saturday, March 19, 2005

RCMP Always Gets Their Homeless Man

Whooee! I jest seen a story in the CBC that's set my blood t' boilin'. Mebbe I oughta saved this fer tomorrow's Outrage o' the Week but I can't wait t' get the bubblin' up bile flowin' inta words. The Canajun national horseyback ridin' police gotta motto 'bout themselves that sez they "always get their man". Looks like they ain't been doin' so shit hot in that department, lately, so they're settin' their sights a bit lower. The latest criminal masterminds that the RCMP got their gunsights aimed at are the pore damn dregs o' society homeless fellers an' gals who push around shoppin' carts loaded up with everythin' they own in the whole ding-dong world.

Lord thunderin' Jeezuz! We got eagle-murderers runnin' loose, terrists gettin' away with bombin' Air Indee airplanes, leftyLib AdScampers stealin' millions from the public purse, nutjob gun-lovers dealin' stolen car parts an' killin' coppers, punkass teenagers stealin' Chrysler Neons an' all sortsa dangerous rapers an' wife-beaters runnin' loose an' these numbnutses are goin' after a few pore damn bastards standin' out in the open with nuthin' but a shoppin' cart full o' junk.

KELOWNA, B.C. - Street people in the B.C. Interior city of Kelowna have been told by the RCMP they have until April 1 to surrender their shopping carts – or have them seized.

The police said the carts, worth up to $350 each, are stolen property. They said they're simply enforcing the law after complaints by the city and the business community.

But homeless people, who can often be seen trundling around Kelowna's downtown core with everything they own on the carts, said they're crucial for the survival.

Well, sez I, them bitchin' biznesses oughta be 'shamed.

Yores trooly,

Friday, March 18, 2005

CPC Rumble in Montreal

Whooee! Well sportsfans, this here's the main event we all been waitin' fer. The HarpoonTosser's bunch are havin' a big tribal gatherin' over in Q-beck. It's been about a year an' a haff since the so-con Alliance an' the progressive-con PC's cheapened the definition o' marriage by gettin' joined in unholy wedlock. All this time, Canajuns has been wonderin' what's what with this here new bunch they call the Conservative Party o' Canadee. Back last June when we had ourselves an election vote, nobuddy knew what the hell the CPC stood fer so the leftyLibs an' Laydown's DippyWips was able t' trot out the ol' "hidden agenda" scary stories.

I reckon that was Harpoon's own damn fault fer not gettin' up an' tellin' what they stood fer except mebbe he couldn't on accounta he don't even know hisself. With this bigass tent meetin' pow-wow goin' on in Montreal, the Con-men an' gals'll be able t' set Canajuns straight on where this here year-an'-a-haff-old party hangs its hat. From what I hear tell, though, StevieBoy ain't joinin' the fray an' he's jest standin' in the crowd watchin' his party turn ugly like when the Ringrose kids down the street's Ma an' Pa was away an' the cops showed up.

One story I seen in the Trawna Star was 'bout Queen Bee Linda the MagnaMama. I guess they wanted ol' B.Linda t' get up on her hind legs an' introduce some substitute flunky who's standin' in fer Johnny Tory the 'Tario PC bossman. Queen Bee sez she ain't jest a purty face an' she's got sum meat on her plate she wants t' talk about. B.Linda was fightin' with Harpoon an' that feller nobuddy remembers, Tony Inclementweatherman, a while back when they was pickin' out who's gonna steer the CPC ship. B.Linda lost. Harpoon won.

Harpoon's had his share o' numbnutses all tryin' t' stir up doo-doo an' make the so-cons in the CPC look like a buncha throwbacks in Chuck Darwin's evolutionary timeline. The latest horse's ass he's been pretendin' don't exist is this here Cheryl Gallant from up around Renfrew. Shee-it! This crybaby CherylGal sez she thinks Canadee is persecutin' Christians. Lord thunderin' Jeezuz! She wants t' see persecution, she oughta go visit Fartin' Martin's buddy boys in commonist Red China. They got sum fellers an' gals who Fall On Gongs an' who get rounded up an' turned inta slaves fer WalMarket by the commie reds. That's persecution, CherylGal. Makin' sumbuddy live next door t' a coupla married up queers ain't real persecution in my book.

Anyways, when the mainstreet media fellers asked Harpoon what's up with this nutjob Gallant, he jest sez nuthin' an' shrugs his shoulders like the ol' shrugmeister hisself, Pierre Troodough. Next thing, Harpoon'll be flippin' his middle finger at the mainstreeters.

I was jest over t' ol' Elvis's Egroup an' I see my boogin' buddy Don from Ottywa is postin' up boog stories from offa the floor o' the convention in Montreal. I ain't heard tell o' any other boogers who's right there at ringside but if I do, I'll post up a link t' their eyewitless reports.

Yores trooly,

King Ralph Gets Sensible

Whooee! If you been readin' my blatherin' boog fer any time at all, you know what I think about the selfsame sexy marryin'. What I been sayin' ferever an ' a day is that ol' Harpoon an' the rest o' the growsers oughta face facts an' see that boy-boy girl-girl weddin's is a done deal an' there ain't no point wastin' everybuddy's time fightin' a losin' battle.

Well, at least one sensible feller's doin' like I sed an' throwin' in the towel. Ol' King Ralph Klein from outta Alberty sez he's done fightin' an' he ain't gonna try notwithstandin'. Anybuddy could see that there ain't any way o' withstandin' queers on the warpath an' I gotta give ol' RalphieBoy credit fer acceptin' them things he can't change like they taught him at AA.

Ol' KleinFeller's got bigger fish t' fry fer his people, the Western Alien Alberts. They got the damn Yankees blockadin' the border an' holdin' back the drovers who's tryin' t' move the herds o' beefs over the line t' Merka. An' I spose Ralphie's gotta figger out how t' squeeze more drops o' oil from outta them there tarry sand dunes. An' the Alien Alberts got doctor troublems jest like the rest of us. I hear tell KleinFeller's got sum bright idees fer openin' up private doctor's offices an' alky clinics.

King Ralph's a smart feller fer knowin' a lost cause when he sees one an' fightin' against queers was never a manly fight anyways. Mebbe he can talk sum sense inta the Harpoontosser an' get ol' Stevie t' leave off fightin' a lost war an' get onta things that matter.

Yores trooly,

More Dead Baldies

Baldy eagleI jest come across this here story in the Yahoo News an' I figgered I'd best post up sumpin' by way of an update t' my Outrage o' the Week a few weeks ago. They're findin' more leftover parts o' baldy eagles that've been murdered out in BC. I see they got the reward money fer catchin' the killers up t' $10,000 but it's lookin' like that ain't enuff t' get anybuddy t' squeal on the rotten eagle-murderin' bastards.

SURREY - (CP) - Another eight bald eagles have been found slaughtered in North Vancouver.

This brings the number of birds found dead in recent weeks to at least 50. "Eight skulls and six wings were uncovered in an advanced state of decomposition," The Ministry of Water, Land and Air Protection said in a news release. It's believed that feathers and talons from the birds are being sold on the black market.

Lord thunderin'... This here outrage is gettin' more'n'more outrageous.

Yores trooly,

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Civilian Servants Short o' Shitpaper

Whooee! Yer always hearin' sum Canajun growsers pissin' an' moanin' 'bout how we Canajuns is numbnutses an' we oughta be more like the Merkins. I sed so myself jest the other day when I was bitchin' 'bout the gravy train, upper house, polytickal patronage, retirement home fer friends o' pryministers that we call the Senate o' Canadee. I sed mebbe we oughta have a senate that's more like what the Merkins have.

So, I hadta laff when I seen this AP news story in the Yahoo News tellin' 'bout sum Merkins from Buffalo in Noo York, jest across the mighty Niagara River from Canadee.

Employees Bring Own Toilet Paper to Work

BUFFALO, N.Y. - The Buffalo area's county budget crisis is taking a toll on the bathrooms in at least one public building. Erie County has had to slash 2,000 jobs and cut back on services in order to close a more than $100 million budget shortfall.

In the Rath Building in downtown Buffalo, workers report that the bathrooms aren't being cleaned or maintained. One longtime worker in the building tells Buffalo's WGRZ-TV that there's no soap, paper towels or toilet paper in the restrooms.

The Rath Building is home to many county offices, including those of County Executive Joel Giambra, the Department of Social Services and the Health Department.

It's so bad, some county employees are bringing in their own toilet paper and other supplies. The worker told WGRZ that's "like working in another country — a bad country."

Richest country in the world, my ass! Them pore Merkin bastards gotta bring their own asswipe in t' work an' here in Canadee we got sum asswipes involved in this here $100 million Adscam deal could use five dollar bills fer shitpaper an' never blink an' eye.

Yores trooly,

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Securin' the Homeland - War on Squirrels

Whooee! Well friends, there comes a time when a man's gotta take a stand fer what's right an' good; a time when you stop the foreign rats from invadin' yer home; a time when you root out the evil sleeper cells who's bent on destroyin' yer way o' life. Fer JimBobby, that time's now. I'm declarin' a War on Squirrels. The vermin rodents has infiltrated my happy home an' it's only a matter o' time before they destroy my whole damn way o' life.

Now, outside o' my shack there's still snow piled up but there's a hint o' Spring pokin' in. The wild geese's honkin' overhead. There's been a flock or two o' Tundra Swans dropped in down t' the ponds. There's sum muddy spots in the soybean field where ol' Spot an' I wander most days. There's a few ol' codgers an' blue-haired ladies creepin' along the sidewalks now that the ice is mostly melted off.

An' dammit, the bushy-tailed rats is movin' inta JimBobby's walls lookin' fer a spot t' set up housekeepin' an' raise up a litter o' terrizing, scratchin', chewin', scrabblin' baby bushy-tails. I aim t' fight fer what's mine an' I already started.

Last Sunday afternoon, 9 or 10 days ago, I hadta get up offa my comfy computer chair an' go down t' the TSC Store an' buy me a live squirrel catchin' trap. Shee-it! It costed me eighty bucks. I set the sumbitchin' trap in the attic all baited up with Skippy Chunky-style an' waited fer the terrist rat t' get hisself snared. Haffway through the week when I hadn't caught nothin', I crawled up in that godfersaken attic stuffed with itchy pink insulation an' moved the trap closer t' where all the damn scratchin' an' chewin' sounds're comin' from. I reckon my $80 is down the tubes cause I still ain't captured a single terrist infiltrator.

Early this very mornin' a terrist rat was awake from its sleeper mode an' it launched itself a full terrist attack. It weren't even six o'clock an Ma was poundin' on the floorboards an' slappin' at the plaster tryin' t' put sum fear inta the rotten, homeland-invadin' vermin. I reckon them terrist squirrels is highly motivated an' they ain't quittin' their evil ways jest on accounta sum sabre-rattlin' from Ma or me.

Sum folks sez I oughta jest poison the bastards an' it ain't outta kindness that I don't. My Uncle Burp poisoned hisself a rat inside the house an' the sumbitch crawled up inside an ol' chesterfield an' died an' stunk t' high heaven. Least when a stinkin' corpse is in a chesterfield you can burn the damn chesterfield. If I get a buncha stinkin' terrist squirrel corpses in between my walls an' up in the ceilin', I'd hafta burn down the house. Then the terrists woulda won, sez I.

Well, dammit, I hadta get out first thing an' fire up the chugmobile an' drive all the way back 12 miles t' the TSC. This time, I worked up a new battle plan involvin' drillin' holes an' pourin' in sum Critter Ridder crystals. This here is Plan B since the $80 trap in the attic din't do diddly. Ma used this here Critter Ridder powder t' keep the sumbitches outta her flower boxes last Summer an' it worked like a charm.

Here's a pitcher o' sum o' the weapons I'm usin' in the War on Squirrels -

The way the plan works (if it works) is I drilled sum haff-inch holes here an' there near where we all been hearin' the terrist sleeper cell when it ain't sawin' logs but when it's chawin' on 2x4's. I bored me sum holes anglin' down inta the baseboards an' sum straight down inta the bedroom floorboards over top o' the livin' room ceilin'. Then I stuck the funnel in an' poured in the Critter Ridder an' stuck a pencil down in an' give it a stir fer dispersin' it all around. Then, fer the coop of grace, I shoved sum corks inta the seven holes I drilled inta my shack walls an' floor.

Next step in the War on Squirrels is lookin' all 'round the borders o' my little shack an' tryin' t' see where the sumbitches is gettin' though my border defenses. I already gotta coupla suspicious spots where I'm gonna staple sum heavy screenwire t' keep the terrist bastards from infiltratin'. Right now, I'm jest waitin' fer the rats t' come out an' do their daily acorn shoppin' on accounta I ain't too keen on mebbe screenin' 'em in instead o' screenin' 'em out.

Worst part o' the screen staplin' other than cuttin' up my lily-whites with that sharp jaggy screenwire is that I gotta climb up on the ladder out in the icy damn snow an' poke around up 20 feet in the air. Runnin' 'round little wee tree branches an' rooftops is sumpin' the squirrels been taught from birth in their terrist trainin' camps. It's not the kinda warfare human bein's is used to an' them terrists can get the drop on us, so wish me luck.

I figger this is a war that mebbe ain't never gonna end. If I can jest keep my own homeland safe from the evil vermin, I'll have won a big battle. If I could rid the whole damn town o' these terrist rats, it'd be a major victory in the War on Squirrels. If I can figger out which one of 'em is the ringleader an' ship that sumbitch off t' Syria or Gitmo, I reckon the others'll all run around willy-nilly an' we can pick 'em off with BB guns an' a few good coalie dogs.

Yores trooly,

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

HarperDog Gets Fixed by Doctor

Hound Harper won't huntWhooee! One o' my boogin' buddies name o' Mark from over t' Section 15 has hisself a good little boog story 'bout this here pitcher o' Stevie Harpoon that's makin' the rounds in the Big "C" emailboxes.

Mark's boog links t' a story in the Ottywa Sun where they tell more about Harper the short-haired pointer's tail of woe.

It's a funny pitcher, no two ways. Sumpin' else struck me funny, too, was the caption they put underneath the pitcher in the Ottywa Sun. They made sure they told everybuddy it's a "doctored" photo, like mebbe their Sun readers might think ol' Harpoon really grew hisself a dog's body. I reckon the Sun's captioneers oughta have a good idee about jest how smart their readers are.


Price o' Mens Haircuts Goin' Up - Ginty's Liberals to Blame

Whooee! I jest seen me the stoopidest damn thing I seen in I can't remember when. This dumb dumb dumb dumbass remember o' the Ontrariariario provendential parliment is out t' get the price o' everything us men buy fer ourselves jacked up. This here numbnuts is one o' the Dalton gang that's runnin' Queen's Park parliment so his stoopid stoopid stoopid idee might jest get passed inta law like when they made my pitbulls illegal.

Here's a little bit from offa the CBC -
TORONTO - Haircuts, dry cleaning and clothes could soon cost the same for men and women in Ontario if a bill currently before the legislature passes.

Liberal Lorenzo Berardinetti, who is pushing the bill to outlaw what he calls "gender-based pricing," says there is no good reason why men and women should pay different prices for similar products and services.

"It's a form of discrimination ... that should have been removed a long time ago," Berardinetti told the Toronto Star.
This Berardinetti genius thinks that his wife pays too much fer her haircuts an' her suits o' clothes. Everybuddy's wife growses that stuff costs too much. Live with it, sez I.

The way the CBC article's wrote, it makes it seem like the damn fool idjits that're behind this dumbass idee think it'll lower down the cost o' ladies' stuff an' not push up the price o' mens' stuff.

Lord Thunderin' Jeezuz, what in the hell are they thinkin'?


EEE-k! A Mouse in the Upper House

Whooee! Well, friends an' foes, if you been payin' any tension t' my blatherin's, you already know how I feel about bowin' an' scrapin' t' Queen Liz an' her brood o' inbred younguns. The royal mouthpiece in Ottywa is ol' General Adrienne Clarkson an' I ain't got much use fer her, neither. The big thing I got against them there royal pains in the ass is they're anti-democracy. T' my way o' thinkin', democracy is when there's an election vote an' everybuddy puts their X on a piece o' paper over t' the Legion Hall an' then we all get to listen to vox populi callin' out the tune.

The snooty-toot royal pains never got elected t' so much as dogcatcher o' Moose Jaw an' it jest goes against my democratic grain t' see 'em gettin' all them perkolaters that come with havin' blue blood coursin' through their inbred veins. This king an' queen an' bonnie prince stuff is sumpin' from way back in olden days when most folks was too damn ignorant t' know any better. We ain't so stoopid now t' be thinkin' that dumbass Prince Harry dressed up like Hitler is better'n anybuddy else's dumbass teenager.

Now this boog story ain't mainly all about the uppity-crusters in the royal henhouse. What I'm growsin' 'bout now is another house an' that's the Upper House o' Parliment an' it's called the Senate o' Canadee. The Senate is sorta like the House o' Lords in merrie olde Englande. In that United Kingdom, they ain't even gotta king but they got a passel o' inbred blue bloods sittin' on their royal keesters in that Upper House o' Lords an' rulin' the roost.

Canadee's Upper House o' Senators don't have no blue bloods but the fellers an' gals sittin' in that house ain't been chosen by the people in an election vote, neither. The way they get made inta senators is by sumpin' called a Pryministerial Edict. Jest the word "edict" gives you a good clue that this ain't democracy in action. It's jest sum dumbass idee left over from olden days o' pomposity an' ceremonial bullshit. When Polly Wolly Fartin' Martin makes his patronage appointments t' the Senate, it's sorta like ol' Queen Liz dubbin' sumbuddy an' sayin' they're a Sir or a Dame an' a peer o' the realm an' fair game fer royal wedlock.

Shee-it! How long we gonna go along with all this kiss-my-royal-ass monarchy social butterfly bizness? Canajuns oughta be electin' the fellers an' gals who sit in the big house in Ottywa. I jest seen a CP news story in the Yahoo News that sez Fartin' Martin's gettin' geared up t' dub hisself sum Senators an' they ain't gonna be elected by the people like in a real democracy.

Now, out in Alberty cowboy country, they sed they wanted t' elect their own senators an' last time they had themselves an election vote, they made sum room on the ballot so's the votin' Alberts could pick out which fellers or gals they'd like t' send up t' Ottywa an' do their biddin' in the Upper House o' Parliment. I ain't so sure the votin' Alberts picked anybuddy better'n Fartin' Martin might pick but at least they picked 'em in an election vote, fair an' square an' democratic.

A few years back, the fellers an' gals from Alberty an' sum other providences come up with a blueprint plan fer makin' renovations t' This Old House - the Senate o' Canadee. They called their big idee the "Triple E" or the "EEE" plan. "Triple E" rolls off yer tongue a bit slipperier than "EEE" so I reckon I'm callin' that plan by the name o' "Triple E."

The reason they call it Triple E is that each o' the big parts starts with "E". I ain't so sure what order they put 'em in an' I ain't sure it matters but them three E's stand fer Elected, Effective an' Equal. T' my way o' thinkin', EEE spells d-e-m-o-c-r-a-c-y. Leastwise, it spells it better'n ol' Pryminister Polly Wolly makin' hisself an edict an' pontifycatin' like sum royal pain an' handin' out tickets t' ride on the Senate o' Canadee gravy train.

Most folks know I hang my hat in Ontariarario an' the E that stands fer Equal might mean that sum Alberty cowboys or Saskatchewanderers get more Senators per votin' citizen. I ain't growsin' on accounta it's a whole lot more democratic-like than how they do it now.

Fartin' Martin's got hisself a perfect chance t' show the pore damn, feelin'-bad, alienated Westerners that he's got an ounce o' respect fer their election votes. Instead o' bein' a mouse in the Upper House, the Pryminister oughta be a man an' do what the Alberty voters sez an' give'm the Senators they voted fer.

Yores trooly,

Monday, March 14, 2005

Too Much Dough fer a Delivery Boy

Whooee! Once in awhile I gotta pull my lazy ass away from this blasted computer. Most times when I gotta get up offa my keester, it's fer takin' ol' Spot fer a good ol' run down in the soybean field. Other times I jest move my lazyass inta the other room, park it in a different comfy chair an' turn on the yammerin' squawkbox TV.

Sum o' my faithful readers might remember that on rare occasions, I gotta go out an' do a job o' work. Lately, I been doin' a little nail-poundin' but mostly the cash money under the table work I do is delivery boy work. It don't pay much but it makes up fer that by bein' pretty much of a no-brain job. I don't even hafta drive most times.

AdScamper Delivery BoyNow this is a pitcher of a feller all wrapped up in this here AdScamper caper. Justus Gumper's doin' his damnedest t' get t' the bottom o' things an' lately it's been all about this here Lefleur outfit. The feller in the pitcher ain't me but he does have the selfsame job as me - delivery boy. I gotta see if I can get me some o' that sorta delivery work. This here feller delivered a piece o' paper t' another feller an' made hisself $112,500.
A report by the auditor general last year found Lafleur Communication took the commission for simply delivering a $750,000 cheque to Via Rail in early 2000 related to the rail carrier's sponsorship of the series.
(I lifted that bit from outta Yahoo News )
Yeow! A hunnert an' twelve grand fer delivering a $750,000 cheque over t' the train station! Sumpin' fishy's goin' on an this feller ain't lookin' too good. You can see he's been caught red-handed by jest lookin' at his left palm in yonder pitcher. That's jest a ripoff fer a delivery charge that high an' I wonder how in the Jeezuz they got away with chargin' that in the first place.

It probbly din't take that sumbitch more'n two shakes t' run that cheque over an' it ain't heavy an it ain't got any sharp corners like sum o' the TV's and cookstoves I slug fer ol' Gary at the TV an' fridge store. Sumtimes I work fer a good lookin' Polish gal who does upholsterin' work an' gets ol' JimBobby to help with one end of sofabed comin' out an' goin' back in. That little gal does a good job in the cushion stuffin' department, no two ways.

I don't put in too many heavy sluggin' hours in the delivery game but I know I'm workin' harder'n that feller jest carried the cheque across the street. On an extra busy week, I might hafta put in 15 hours but most times it's a lot less. Maybe 5 or 10. Now o' course everybody knows you don't make a livin' delivering TV's an' washin' machines an' fancy chesterfields. I gotta a few other irons in the fire that I ain't gonna say much 'bout an' o' course Ma's got the job at the massage joint where she rubs down all them horny fellers.

We get by jest fine an' I ain't thinkin' Gary or the Whatchamakowski gal is gonna bump up my wages none even if I show 'em what delivery boys get in Montreal. But - man-o-man - a hunnert thousand fer a delivery once or twice a year an' Ma an' I'd be in clover fer sure.

Yores trooly,

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,

Saturday, March 12, 2005

JimBobby Boogin' About JimBobby's Boogin' (he's fulluvimself)

Whooee! Well friends an' foes, I expect some foes'll be reading this boog on accounta I'm gonna tell why I write like I do an' when sumbuddy growses in some comments an' goes off all ad hominem-like on JimBobby, I figger I'll jest send 'em over t' this here boog post where I'll tell 'em what's what. That way there, I won't be the cause o' somebuddy's comments goin' all off-topic with commenters yammerin' about ol' JimBobby instead the thing they's sposed t' be yappin' about.

If you ain't got any troublem with my way o' writin', you probbly don't need t' read any more from here on. I thankee fer stoppin' by an' I'll try t' have sumpin' better next time. This here boog post is mostly fer explainin' 'bout JimBobby t' sum unfortunates an' illiterates an' lazyasses an' sum that's a little slow on the uptake. The rest o' yer probbly thinkin' ol' JimBobby's sure fullovimself today, ain't he? Yeow! I wouldn't blame you the teensiest. I sorta wish I din't hafta come out an explain all this but like I sed, sum folks is slow on the uptake an' they need stuff spelled out fer 'em.

Coupla folks sez t' me how come yer a Canajun an' you talk like sum Texas cowboy or Tennessee plowboy. Well, mebbe you think ol' JimBobby sounds like a Merkin southern boy because yer readin' that way yerself. Waltz yer ass inta any Timmy Horton's an' listen t' the folks yammerin' an' blatherin' on about pitbulls an' politics an' the price o' gas. If you was t' transcribe that talkin' accurate-like, it'd look a lot like ol' JimBobby's way o' writin'. I'm considerin' addin' an audio podcast t' this here JimBobby Sez site an' you'll be able to hear what JimBobby sounds like an' it ain't like a southern cracker, no two ways.

Sum folks think ol' JimBobby is a redneck. I'm a country boy, true enuff, but I wouldn't call myself a redneck. I don't take no offense t' anybuddy else callin' me that on accounta it's harmless an' sum folks figger anybuddy lives more'n 50 miles outside o' the centre o' the universe - that being Trawna - is a redneck. When I set foot in Trawna once in a while, probbly everybuddy meets me thinks I'm a hick an' I am. Sum cityfellers don't know the difference between a hick an' a redneck. No big deal, sez I. No sense givin' 'em a vocubulary lesson an' makin' 'em feel bad.

Way back weeks an' weeks ago when I first started in with this way o' writin' after I had the grand launch day fer my boog, I had a few fellers an' mebbe a gal or two ask why I write the way I do. I think one of'm sed, "Why do you write like an idiot?" Well friends, I tried t' give an answer an' I ain't the fastest typewritin' guy in the world an' my way o' writin' ain't easy. I ain't been boogin' long but I already got me a few tricks o' the boogin' trade an I used the linkin' up networkin' powers o' the world wide web t' save myself sum typewritin' labour. Anything t' get outta work, sez I.

Here's a link to a boog with sum comments 'bout my way o' writin'. Here's another'n. Here's another. There's a few more floatin' around here an' there. There's lots more but I'd feel too full o' myself if I was t' post every ding-dong link.

Now, I never made any bones 'bout the fact that I aim t' become a bigtime booger in the Canajun boogeysphere. I aim t' do that by becomin' a damn good booger. I know that a successful bigtime booger hasta have a personality. Sum boogers got tuff guy personalities an' sum is pussycats an' put pitchers o' pussycats onta their boogs. Sum boogers got these here sexy boogs where they tell you stuff you'd rather not know 'bout their body parts an' where they been puttin' 'em. (Probbly more like where they wished they was puttin' 'em.) Ol' JimBobby is jest doin' his best t' make a big ol' mark in the boogeysphere, leastwise in the Canajun boogeysphere. I ain't shootin' fer worldwide fame but I ain't turnin' it down neither.

So far, my devious plan t' write it like I talk it an' t' tell it like I see it is workin' out purty good. I got me a good number o' fellers an' gals stoppin' by an' jawin' a bit an' they's puttin' links t' my boog onta their boogrolls an' I'm doin' likewise fer them. There's a whole buncha a nice fellers an' gals roamin' 'round this here boogeysphere, no two ways. I'm happy as Larry t' know 'em an' I'm makin' sum good boogin' buddies, yessiree.

I don't really know 'bout any rules t' the boogeysphere but I reckon commonsense rules is what flies here like everywhere else. I try t' use commonsense when I'm boogin' an' if sumbudy tells me t' piss off, well unless sum other buddy sez i shouldn't piss off, then I'll usually jest piss off. Unless I am pissed off an' then mebbe I'll offer sum dumbass a JimBobby-flavoured knuckle samwitch. That don't happen too much but I gotta admit it's happened once or twice. How many years d'you figger I could get in the slammer fer makin' that offer they can refuse?

An' speakin' o' commonsense... Sheee-it! That's mainly what I'm all about. If sumbuddy's got a big ol' boog comments gabfest goin' on, I try t' chime in with a commonsense thought o' my own 'bout the topic. An o' course, it's jest commonsense t' stay on the selfsame topic an' not bring up sumpin' new from outta left field. If I see sum dumbass sayin' sumpin' stoopid in a boog, well my commonsense sez I should tell'm they're a dumbass an' tell 'em why. Same goes fer tellin' folks that they're smart as whip or right on the money or that they ain't jest whistlin' The Maple Leaf Ferever.

Commonsense from the common man in common language. If yer still readin' an' yer this far inta my blatherin' then surely t' Jeezuz yer smart enuff t' get what I'm sayin'. An' here's a little tip fer makin' it easier t' read my way o' writin' - try t' read out loud or leastwise move yer lips. I betch'll have ol' JimBobby's words jest drippin'off yer tongue in no time.

An' like it sez up at the top right underneath the big JimBobby Sez boog title:
"If you don't like my way o' writin', jest change the channel."

Yores trooly,

Friday, March 11, 2005

Harnessin' the Superpower o' Boogs

Whooee! I almost din't get around t' postin' up a boog today. I been doin' some nail-poundin' an' helpin' out with sum outside o' the house stuff that's kept me away from my boog. I also been spendin' sum time jawin' over t' BoogsCanadee at ol' Elvis's Egroup. I reckon I'm in Elvis's good books on accounta the nice comment he left on my little boog today.

They gotta new feller writin' at that there Egroup name o' Scott Tribe. He posted up a great long diaTribe today 'bout how we Canajuns is takin' it up the pooper from the Merkins on these unfree trade dealin's that everybuddy knows about. Now, this here ScottyBoy's got an idee 'bout us Canajun boogers gettin' up on our hind legs an' askin' our remembers o' parliment t' quit kissin' the Merkin's asses. He posted a sample of a letter he's sendin' off t' B.Linda an' also t' another MP name o' Jimmy Duncan. He ain't so blunt as me 'bout the ass-kissin' part but the message he's sendin' is the selfsame thing.

Scottfeller sez we Canajun boogers got superpowers we ain't even realized yet on accounta we ain't ever worked together like a gang o' Mennonites building a barn. I reckon Scotty's got a good point an' a good idee. These Merkin's with their beef lobbies an' bought-off judges an' Teddy Kennedy Democrass senators is all gangin' up on good an' decent Canajuns in the cow meat department an' softwood 2x4's an' grains an' now Scotty sez they's puttin' the screws to us on hogs an' pigmeat.

Well, in the comments over there, ol' Elvis sez if we wanna be exercisin' our superpowers, we gotta all get busy in our own little boogs an' spread the gospel o' we're-mad-as-hell-an'-we-ain't-takin'-it-no-more. Kinda lucky fer me that this boog campaign thingy came up today on accounta I was havin' a hard time comin' up with a boog story topic an' this'n is tailor-made. I hear tell if you wanna be a bigtime booger (an' I already sed that's my aim in life) then you gotta boog every single day. Well, friends an' foes, I gotta perfect attendance record, so far, an' I aim t' keep it thataway.

So, here's the deal. If yer tired o' seein' good an' decent hardworkin' Canajuns takin' a shitkickin' from the Merkin protectionism merchants, go over an ' read ol' Scotty's boog post. I gotta warn you, though, it's a long ol' story. I reckon it's worth readin', though, an' I reckon it's worth a try in goin' after the boogin' superpowers, too, so if yer a booger in the Caanjun boogeysphere do like I'm doin' right this very minute an' post yerself a boog story askin' yer boog readers t' write t' their remembers o' parliment.

Oh yeah, I almost fergot. There's a couple commenters growsin' over there 'bout my way o' writin'. Sum nice other fellers come t' ol' JimBobby's defense while I was out poundin' nails. The nice fellers was Jamesey Bow, Ti-Guy an' ol' Jimmy Elvis, hisself. Thankee kindly, nice fellers. I ain't namin' the dumbass growsers. They know who they are.

Yores trooly,

Thursday, March 10, 2005

A Guide t' Better Boogin'

Whooee! Lookin' at the title I gave this boog story, you might be thinkin' ol' JimBobby's gonna start dishin' out advice on boogin'. Shee-it! I ain't that much of a numbnuts. I know I'm jest a neo-fighter in the boogeysphere boxin' ring. NosireeBobby. I'm gonna point you at sumpin' I come across this mornin' where sum fellers an' gals down in Californie set up a wiki on bein' a better booger. (I'm already takin' sum o' the Californicators' advice an' my very first paragraph got right t' the point.)

Now them wikiwoos say you oughtn't steal nothin' an' you oughta give credit where credit's due. My ol' Pappy used t' say the selfsame things so before I blather anymore, I wanna give credit t' a bigtime mainstreet media feller who posted up a link to the wiki 'bout bein' a better booger. That fine feller is Bill Doskoch. Ol' Billfeller writes up stories fer ol' Lloydfeller Robertson's CTV an' he also has hisself a boog an' I look in on ol' BillyBoy's boog most days an' I put'm inta my ever-growin' boogroll that's developin' a case o' sidebarrhea.

Well, fellers an' gals, I left me a big ol' comment on Bill's boog this mornin' an' me bein' basically a lazyass, I figgered I'd copy most of it inta this boog story an' save myself sum typewritin'. So far, that ain't happenin' but I'm still gonna try that labour-savin' copy an' paste device. I ain't copying everythin' I sed t' ol' Bill but here's the main jist.

Anyways, t' make a short story long (here I go gettin' t' the point), the first part o' the wiki on writin' sez a good booger oughta get right down t' brass tacks an' shouldn't oughta make the boog readers wonder what in the Jeezuz yer blatherin' on about. That's the part I figger I'm not doin' so well.

The second part is called "Get comfortable" an' that's the part where I reckon I'm doin' better'n most. I ain't got me an Aeron chair on accounta I'm savin' up fer a minnyvan but my keester's planted in a purty good swiveller from outta the Staples store. (Dammit, I'm digressin'.) The wikiwoos is sayin' jest write it up like you talk an' I don't figger anybuddy's doin' that better'n ol' JimBobby an' if that's the way t' make yer mark an' become a bigtime A-list booger, well then I'm headed fer the top o' the heap.

I've had sum o' my thousands an' thousands o' JimBobby Sez boog readers pissin' an' moanin' 'bout it bein' a tuff ol' job t' read my way o' writin'. Mostly, that happens in the commentin' departments o' sum other boogs. Sum o' them other commentin' boogers is downright snippety; 'specially at that long-necked Andy Coyne's boog an' over at that numbnuts Ezra's Shotgun boog.

So here's my big plan. I can see sum lazy loafers is too busy or snooty-tooty t' bother with my possterfee-laden prose. I been thinkin' on puttin' up'n audio sound record where I read it out loud so's the lazy asses an' the pore damn illiterates don't hafta strain their puny brains or eyeballs.

I been doin' sum studyin' on this here podcastin' bizness an' I reckon I got all the ingredients 'ceptin' a website host where I can park them bigass mp3 yammerin' files. If anybuddy's still readin' an' got any good idees 'bout where t' park them JimBobby Sez it out loud files, chime inta the comments an' point yer finger fer me.

Howdja like that idee? Sound like it might be the ticket t' booger stardom an' untold wealth? (I asked that t' Billfeller in the comment that I'm pastin' here but my mind's wide open an' anybuddy can tell me what they think.)

The big troublem with my smartyass plan is that I like t' wander here an' there an' leave me sum well-considered an' thoughtful comments on other boogs an' this here audio stuff'd only work fer my own boog stories. Well, there's anuther fly in the ointment an' that's I'm a lazyass an' I'd be makin' a whole new job o' work fer myself. I'm wonderin' if it'd be worth the haff hour a day that it'd probbly take.

Yores trooly,

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Canajun Boogers at War... Again

Whooee! I been follerin' a lttle tempest brewin' in the Canajun boogeysphere these past coupla days. Seems there's this here remember o' parliment from outta Calgary, FullMonty Soilburger, an' ol' Monty's jest recently started inta boogin'. Like I sed in sumbuddy's comments where I was puttin' in my two penniesworth, I never met this here Soilburger but we got a little in common on accounta us both bein' new boogers in the Canajun boogeysphere.

We gotta little more'n that in common, too. A coupla weeks ago, I wrote up a boog post where I called the Inuit fellers an' gals livin' up where there's Nunavut by the name "igloo builders." I took a wee bit o' heat in my comments department 'bout not bein' politickal correct. In the end, I reckon it all blowed over an' I weathered the shitstorm an' I learned me a thing or two 'bout boogin' an' politickal correctness an' Inuits. Turned out they don't mind bein' called igloo builders but I went an' called 'em Inoo an' that's a different tribe altogether.

Well t'other day, ol' Soilburger wrote hisself a boog post 'bout Pryminister PollyWolly Fartin' Martin where he called ol' Fartin' Martin by the name Paul Martin Luther King. Well, fellers an' gals, ol' FullMonty exposed hisself fully t' the politickal correctness police an' he walked nekked into a big ol' shitstorm. Ol' Soilburger's a tad more famous'n ol' JimBobby so a lot more folks got their sniffers outta joint 'bout Monty takin' the name o' the martyr Luther King an' makin' sum jokes 'bout the Birmin'ham jail an' Selma, Alabama where ol' Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Junior got hisself throwed in the hoosecow an' did sum protest marchin' back in the bad ol' days o' racism an' segregation in the Merkin southland.

Anybuddy mighta known the Big L fellers'd get up on their hind legs an' give ol' Monty the gearbox an' they sure enuff did. One bigtime booger in the Canajun boogeysphere got pertickler testy at ol' Soilburger was ol' Jimmy ElvisPresley over t' the BoogsCanadee. Ol' Elvis sorta flew offa the handle at FullMonty an' sed he was insultin' the memory o' ol' Martin King an' he din't see nuthin' funny in Soilburger's funny boog write up. Well, a bunch o' folks chimed in onta both sides an' the pitched battle raged fer most o' yesterday an' a bit o' today an' now I figger it's all settled down an' FullMonty weathered the shitstorm. Even ol' Kinsellerfeller got in on the act an' even though he's the Big L Prince o' Darkness, he came down on the Big C Monty's side o' the fence.

I ain't sure if Montyfeller learned any lessons from this whole boogin' experience like I done when I put my foot in it. Him bein' a remember o' parliment it's purty important that he never sez he's ever been the least little bit wrong 'bout the least little thing. That's how it is fer politicianfellers on accounta if they ever admit any wrong - even the teensiest - then they may's well throw in the towel on accounta everybuddy sez they's ditherin' wafflemakers.

I does seem mebbe ol' Elvis mighta learnt sumpin', though, an' since he ain't a remember o' parliment, he's allowed to own up t' a mistake every once in a bit. I seen over onta his boog comments that he's doin' sum grovelin' an' he sez mebbe he was an' ol' fart fuddy-duddy. An' one o' my boogin' buddies, AndrewFeller, wrote his own boog 'bout ol' Elvis goin' off the deep end in the politickal correct department an' Elvis even went in there an' told'm he's backin' off an' mebbe he was a little bit all wet.

Well, JamesyBow, who's another one o' my new boogin' buddies sez ol' Elvis is mebbe touchy 'bout Kingfeller on accounta he's a Merkin who come t' Canadee jest after ol' King got shot dead by James Earl Ray while he was standin' on a balcony in a motel. I figger Jamesy's right an' Jimmy Elvis is a true blue believer in the good Reverend King an' he din't like the way ol' Soilburger was soilin' his good name by makin' jokey jokes. Ol' Elvis hisself more or less sed the selfsame thing an' he din't back down a hunnert percents worth but he did give an inch or more.

Ol' Elvis put up a little boog post a few days ago where he mentioned ol' JimBobby Sez an' I figger he's not such a bad ol' boy on accounta he done that an' he come out an' sed he was partly wrong 'bout slapping ol' Monty around like he done. I reckon he deserves a little credit but it don't look like too many that give'm proper shit fer bein' too politickal correct are sayin' he done anything good by backin' off. I figger he was mostly all wet but he should get sum credit fer admittin' it.

Yores trooly,

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Frozen Albertan Comes Back From the Dead

Whooee! I was watchin' one o' them there medical dramas onto the TV a week or so ago where they took some pore sufferin' soul an' throwed 'em in a big ol' tub o' ice cubes. I can't remember whether it was that Medical Investigation show on Friday nights where every week they save the whole ding-dong world from total anhiliation or if it was the one with the gimpy feller, House. House is really a limey an' he played Bertie Wooster an' also was the Prince on Blackadder. Now, he's a grumpy Merkin an' every week he's all confuddled by a mysterious disease an' he tries every which thing til he nearly kills the pore sufferin' soul an' finally lands on the right pills.

Now down in Mexico there was this here Canajun feller from Alberty who got hisself all smashed up an' drownded by a big wave. I guess he was purty much DOA by the sounds of it. Wasn't breathin' fer sumpin' like 45 minutes and then they started pumpin' air inta his lungs an' they took'm up t' Houston. Up there, they jest about give up on'm an' I guess they figgered they got nuthin' t' lose so they froze'm fer a few days.

When they thawed'm out, he was jest about good as new an' they's callin' it a science fiction medical miracle.

Notes from the patient medical file read 'Patient remains deadly ill' and 'Chance of recovery less than one percent.' With nothing to lose, Dr. Varon had to think outside the box and outside medical protocol.

"That's why we decided to go with a form of therapy which probably wouldn't be used by other clinicians," said Dr. Varon. "I froze him."

It's called hypothermic therapy. It's used on heart attack patients, but never for a drowning case until now. O'reilly was wrapped in a cooling blanket and his body temperature was lowered to 90 degrees, which is enough to freeze to death. But he was kept on life-support.

The treatment was allowing O'reilly's body to hibernate and to heal. On the third day – his birthday -- he awoke.

"I've come back from the dead," he told us.

Whooee! That's better'n them made up fake TV shows anyday. Read all about it.

Yores trooly,

Monday, March 07, 2005

Tsunami Dough Not Gettin' There

Whooee! I was jest readin' this here story in the Trawna Star an' now my blood pressure's gettin' inta the danger zone. Back on Boxin' Day, as everybuddy knows, that big ol' tidal wave washed over the folks in Asian an' killed a few hunnert thousand of 'em. The ones that wasn't killed got their houses an' schools an' churches an' whole villages washed away.

Well, we all pitched in an' did what we could. Fer most Canajuns, that meant openin' up the purse strings an' shellin' out sum dough. Even though this here disaster hit right after the Christmas shoppin', Canajuns gave til it hurt an' raised sum hunnerts o' millions to help out them pore devasted Yessiree Lankans an' the achin' Achenese an' the pore Phukers in Phuket.

I remember readin' a few newspaper stories back then where they was worryin' that the bigass money everybuddy donated an' the dough the gummints all over the place sed they's sendin' might not get t' where they need it. I saw sum stuff 'bout how sum bigass hurricane relief money never got t' Honduras an' sum other places. When all this come up, the folks collectin' an' the gummints all sed, "Don't worry. This is such a big crisis, we'll get the money where it's needed."

Well dammitall, it ain't gettin' there. These folks is still livin' in squalor an' even though we all pitched our pennies in the pot an' the gummint sed they'd match our pennies with sum of our other pennies, the Star's sayin' only 20% or less o' the money's gettin' where it's sposed to. Here's part o' what the Star sed:
The inevitable fear is that the same pattern of waste and inefficiency may continue with the delivery of the $6 billion or so the world has pledged for tsunami relief.

Unpacked cargo containers still sit on the docks in Colombo, waiting to clear Sri Lankan customs.

Hundreds of thousands of Acehnese still live in squalid camps, with nothing but thin tarps over their heads. And only 4 per cent of the reconstruction costs — around $75 million (U.S.) — has trickled into Sri Lanka, Reuters reports.

Much of the $265 million the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) has pledged for tsunami relief this fiscal year (which ends March 31) still sits in the federal government's bank account, waiting for aid groups to submit proposals about how they're going to spend it.
Lord thunderin' Jeezuz! Can't nobuddy do nuthin' right?

Sunday, March 06, 2005

Outrage o' the Week

Whooee! Well friends an' foes, this here's my third Sunday outrage boog. I got sum surprises with my other two. Sum commentin' fellers or gals chimed in either on the wrong side or else sayin' I oughta have better things t' be outraged 'bout than murdered eagles or anti-Canadee underwear. Mebbe the same'll happen this time. Since I'm becomin' an ol' veteran in the boogeysphere with more'n 3 weeks o' boogin' t' my credit, I won't be so surprised when I take sum heat in the comments.

I do have one word of advice fer them that think there's better things t' be outraged about. Get yer own boog an' start bitchin'. If you cast yer eyeballs up t' the far upper right corner o' yer screen, yer gonna see a little box that sez. "Get Your Own Blog." As an experienced booger, I ken tell you that startin' up yer own boog is as easy as fallin' down on the ice. It don't hurt nearly so much, neither.

There's so damn many things t' be outraged about this week, though, that I wouldn't blame anybuddy fer thinkin' I din't make the right choice.

I'm outraged 'bout that sumbitch in Alberty that killed them four fine young horseyback ridin' police fellers. I'm outraged 'bout the boss o' them policefellers sayin' they was all properly prepared an' equipped t' go onto a gun-lovin', cop-hatin' nutjob's property. I figger if that was so, they wouldn't be dead. I'm outraged that the deputy sheriff pryminister Annie Get-yer-gun McLellan is jerkin' her knee an' fergettin' histry an' the law o' supply an' demand when she sez we gotta get tuff on pot-pushers an' turn 'em inta modern day Al Capones.

I'm outraged that Dubya Bushfeller left Pryminister Fartin' Martin danglin' on the horn fer a week jest t' show'm who's boss o' the ding-dong world. I'm outraged 'bout the commonist red Chinese takin' the Merkins t' task over human rights. I'm outraged that the WalMarket is in bed with the torturin' commonist red Chinese an' bullyin' good an' decent Canajun workin' folks.

So all you thousands an' thousands o' JimBobby readers'll hafta cut me a little slack when I gotta hard time decidin' jest what's got me chewin' nails an' fartin' tacks this week. A coupla things did make me more pissed off than others but there ain't enuff Preparation H in the Shoppers Drug Mart warehouse t' soothe all the tack-fartin' I been doin' lately.

One thing that got me hot under the collar was a CP story in the Yahoo News from outta Montreal: Eighteen-year-old Quebecer charged with attack on 90-year-old woman in subway. The story tells how this here craven cowardly punk went an' mugged a little ol' lady in the subway. The rotten sumbitch broke the ol' gal's pelvis an' arm an' also gave'r head injuries when he shoved'r down the stairs. If ol' Ginty hadn't caused me t' get rid o' my pitbulls, I reckon I'd like t' slather his punkass with pork drippin's an' lock'm in the shed with them dearly departed killer K9's.

Another story got my dander up is this one from outta New Westminster, BC: Father found guilty of murder in stabbing death of 17-year-old daughter. Lord thunderin' Jeezuz! The dumbass daddy went an' killed his own little girl jest so's she wouldn't shack up with her boyfriend. When they made up that sayin' 'bout tossin' out the baby with the bathwater, I reckon nobuddy thought a dumbass like this would really do sumpin' like it.

So, now I'm lookin' back at this here boog post an' I see it ain't got any one single outrage. There's jest too damn many outrageous things happenin' this week fer me t' pin it down. Mebbe next week'll be better an' only one thing'll piss me off. I ain't holdin' my breath.

Yores trooly,

Saturday, March 05, 2005

I Reckon a Peregrine Falcon Was Out Back

bird sittin' in a treeWhooee! I was settin' in front o' the computer on this bright an' sunny Saturday mornin' when Ma sez, "What's that bird out back?" I got up offa my keester fer a looksee an' not 100 feet from the back screen door was this here hawk-lookin' flapper sittin' in a maple tree. We get plenty o' red tailed hawks in my neck o' the woods but they don't get so close t' the house an' they're a dime a dozen. This here was sumpin' different.

I grabbed my little digital camry a snapped a pitcher through the screen door. That's it up left yonder. It ain't so good on accounta two things. First thing is the screen window was in the way an' the second thing is the sittin' bird looked close but even when I zoomed up all the way, he still wasn't as close as he looked.

now the sumbitch is takin' flightI figgered if I cracked open the screendoor t' get a better pitcher the big feller'd fly off an' that's jest what he did. Jest as he lit out, though, I got me another pitcher an' it's little better than the first one on accounta the screen window ain't in the way. The second pitcher ain't exactly a masterpiece but it's a fair bit better'n that other one.

Now, this here strange bird was mostly a blue-grey an' he had hisself a black top onta his head an' he had sum white comin' up around from his neck. He was about a foot an' a haff tall an' as you ken see in the first pitcher, he sat up straight an' tall. His tail sorta came to a rounded point an' it was kinda long an' his head seemed kinda small.

After he flew off, I got out a bird-watchin' book an' took me a looksee tryin' t' tell which sorta hawk this was. A coupla years ago, we had a Merlin pigeon hawk out back feastin' on birdies from outta Ma's bird feeder an' I thought this might be another'n. When I looked in the book, I decided it weren't a pigeon hawk on accounta they ain't got the black cap on their heads an' they's a little more brown in the front. Another thing different is the Merlin pigeon hawk has hisself a kinda wide tail an' this feller we saw had a more long pointy tail. Here's a pitcher of a Merlin from the book.
Merlin pigeon hawk
On the very next page o' that there birdwatchin' book, was the birdie I think I saw an' that's the Peregrine Falcon. Here's the pitcher.
Peregrine falcon
Now, I hear tell these here falcons is damn rare in these parts. I did hear tell, though, that they got one or two roostin' in the tall buildin's on Bay Street in Trawna. I hang my hat 'bout a hunnert miles away from the centre o' the universe, that bein' Trawna, so I don't figger it's completely outta the question that this here birdie that flew inta my back yard was a rare ol' Peregrine. Sumbuddy thinks they know what it is other'n that, chime inta the comments an' lemme know.

Yores trooly,

Friday, March 04, 2005

Extendin' My Deepest Sympathy

RCMP OfficerI ain't startin' out with my usual "Whooee!" on accounta I don't feel much like whoopin' an' I don't reckon it'd be showin' the sorta respect I wanna show.

Ol' JimBobby likes t' blather on 'bout stuff in the news an' I try t' make sum jokes an' wrap serious stuff up in a funny sorta package. There's only but one news story I'm payin' any tension to today an' there ain't nuthin' funny about it an' there ain't any way I'm gonna try t' make it funny.

I'm feelin' a big hurt an' I gotta heap o' sympathy fer the pore families that lost their younguns yesterday. I see that there's some other boogs where they's talkin' 'bout this an' that regardin' these here murders an' mebbe I'll put my two pennies in here an' there an' mebbe I won't.

On this here JimBobby Sez boog, I'm jest sayin' I'm sorry fer everybuddy that's lost a loved one an' I'm sorry t' see our home an' native land sufferin' such a tragedy. That's all I got fer today an' I'll try t' come back tomorrow in a better mood.

Yores trooly,

Thursday, March 03, 2005

Goin' Photoshoppin' With Martha Stewart

Whooee! I seen in this mornin's newspaper that Newsweek, the big Merkin magazine that's sorta like Maclean's, has got themselves a little tempest brewin' in their teapot. The latest edition o' Newsweek has got a big ol' pitcher o' Martha Stewart on the cover. The onliest troublem is that the head's MarthaGal's but the body belongs t' sumbuddy else.

Martha Stewart's head, sumbuddy else's bodyThe writin' on the cover sez "After Prison She's Thinner, Wealthier & Ready for Prime Time." Now, if you ask me (which nobuddy did), I'd say that when they start yammerin' 'bout her bein' thinner, the pitcher oughta be showing her own thinner body an' not sumbuddy else.

The Newsweek fellers put up a little photygraph credit that's sposed t' explain it all an' I reckon they figgered everybuddy who seen the cover would look fer the little wee credit an' figger out that they's lookin' at Martha's noggin on top o' who knows who's body.

Little teeny pitcher credit

Well, I figger if the bigboys at a big magazine like Newsweek ken go photoshoppin' an' make sum pitchers with the wrong heads onta the wrong shoulders, why not me? Looks like fun, sez I.

Last week when I had my shorts all in a knot 'bout ol' General Clarkson, I got t' wondrin' jest who it was that she reminded me of. Then it came t' me all in a flash.

Anybuddy else see a resemblement?

Yores trooly,

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Doctors an' Medicine

Whooee! I been wandrin' the Canajun boogeysphere a lot lately an' I come across sum fellers who posted up lists o' links t' other boogs an' I been follerin' sum o' those links an' they got me thinkin' bout a few things regardin' the doctors an' also drug-pushin' medicine men.

Over t' Trudeaupia, ol' Kevin Jaeger's got a post 'bout the Q-beck gummint tryin' t' push doctor fellers an' gals outta the bigass cities an inta the countryside an' little towns where they ain't got enuff of'm practisin' to be medicine men. The comments is all 'bout what dumbasses the gummint is t' try forcing doctors t' go where they's needed. Now KevinFeller's fightin' the good fight against commonism an' he an' most o' the commentin' fellers figger the Q-beck gummint's actin' like ol' Troodough or Castro or Lenin or sum other commie when they dock the pay fer doctors who stay in Montreal instead o' goin' sumwhere there ain't enuff doctors like the Gaspay.

I ain't buyin' that an' I chimed inta Trudeaupia's comments an' sed so. Dockin' the Montreal doctor fellers an' gals was probbly the wrong way to do it, mebbe, but payin' folks more than others t' do what's needed where it's needed ain't commonism in my book. It's free marketplace tradin' which is jest the opposite. I say they oughtn't have sed they's dockin' the big city doc's an' shoulda sed they's offerin' up extra rewards fer the doc's who go t' where they's needed. I happen t' be a country boy an' I ain't in Q-beck but I do know what it's like when there ain't enuff doctors in yer town. Money talks in the non-commie world an' I figger the Q-beck gummint was lettin' the money do the talkin'.

Ol' Kevin sez it backfired an' they got a buncha doc's leavin' Q-beck altogether. I say the answer t' that is simple. Pay 'em more money so's they'll do what you want like with anybuddy else you hire t' do a job of work. Payin' a few doctors to move t' the boonies is a whole lot easier than forcin' all the good an' decent Canajuns livin' in the boonies t' pick up an' move t' Trawna jest so's they ken get a doctor, sez I.

In other medical news... Ol' Dana (who I think is a gal but might be a feller) over t' CanajunComment is tellin' how folks is livin' longer an' longer all the time. That bein' the case, Dana's wondrin' how come the TV news is always blatherin' on 'bout all these health troublems we gotta fret over. The answer is the same answer as I give ol' Kevin Troodoughpia. Money talks.

I left me a comment at Dana's boog an' jest t' save sum typewritin' time I'm copyin' sum o' that here.

The reason fer all them stories 'bout diseases an' ailments onta the TV news is on accounta who's buyin' the advertisin'. Every 5 minutes they gotta commercial an' they's all fer sum sorta medicine from sum bigass outfit like Pfizer or Glaxo. Keepin' people on edge worryin' 'bout their broken down bodies is what these TV news sponsors is lookin' fer an' it's jest what ol' Peter Jennings is dishin' up.

I got me a satellite dish an' I watch sum news from the BBC. It ain't the onliest news I watch but it's one of'm. The BBC ain't got any commercials an' they don't hardly ever got any dumbass stories 'bout the latest new research that's gonna save all our lives as long as the research money keeps comin' inta the bigass drug pushers.

The one who's payin' the piper's the one who's callin' the tune. It's jest as simple as that. It ain't rocket science. It's bizness in the free marketplace.

Yores trooly,

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Marijuana Party Animal Gets in Liberal Tent

Whooee! The Big "L" gritfellers has got themselves a new best friend an' he's bringin' the hoonie t' the party. Only 'bout 4 years ago, Marc-Boris St-Maurice started up the Marijuana Party of Canadee. Land sakes! That feller's got more hyphens than JimBobby has possterfees. Now ol' Boris Morris's throwin' in the towel on his own little pot party an' he's gonna be passin' the joints around inside o' that big tent the gritfellers is always braggin' about.

Now, ol' JimBobby ain't sayin' he's prudefeller who ain't never took hisself a puff or two but I ain't so sure this is the kinda friend Fartin' Martin an' his cabinetful o' ministers want takin' up the lotus position inside o' their big wigwam. Ol' Boris sez he thinks he ken do a better job fer the dope-smokin' constituency from inside the Big "L" camp. I guess he was too stoned t' notice that the gritfellers is hangin' onta power by the skin o' their teeth.

Mebbe the Pryminister's boys'll be able t' get the selfsame sexy marryin' bill passed an' I hope they do. I figger they's enuff Canajuns ain't too worried 'bout their younguns turnin' queer jest cause we got legal boy-boy girl-girl weddin's. They's plenty o' Canajuns that do worry 'bout their kiddies tokin' in the schoolyard, though, an' if they see Fartin' Martin gettin' too cosy with this here Boris Weedsmoker, they might think twice before castin' their votes in the Liberal direction.

Now, I'm a live-an'-let-live kinda feller an' I figger the gummint's got no bizness pokin' 'round the bedrooms lookin' fer boy knob gobblers or gals munchin' carpet. I ain't so sure that this here dope-smokin' is as harmless as selfsame sex or as ol' Boris might be sayin' it is. I reckon I exhaled a brain cell or two over the years an' I reckon there's gotta be sum sorta lid on this stuff t' keep it away from the kiddies.

I'd say here's a chance fer ol' Stevie t' toss the harpoon an' I figger he'd get more folks onta his side 'bout this legal dope deal than on the selfsame sexy thing. Either that or take sum preemie-emptive moves an' come out fer makin' it more legal than the leftylibs an' showin' how the gummint ken be live-an'-let-live an' make sum dough on taxin' the sinful pot-puffers like they tax other sinnin' like whiskey drinkin' an' beer drinkin' an' tabacky smokin' an' lottery gamblin'.

Yores trooly,