Monday, August 29, 2005
I reckon I'd like t' have super powers o' persuasion. PersuaderMan'd be my super hero handle. With super persuasion powers, I figger I could persuade all the other super heroes t' do my biddin' an' it'd be like I was Gumner General over all o' the super heroes.
If I had super persuasion power, I'd be able t' persuade sum o' the numbnutses who's doin' dumbass stuff t' open up their dumbass eyeballs an' smarten up. I'm talkin' 'bout numbnutses like Robert Mugabe an' that Korean feller with the funny haircut an' Ol' Sammy BinLaden an' ol' Georgie Dubya an' PollyWolly Fartin' Martin an' Stevie Harpoon. If I could persuade them fellers t' use commonsense an' stop all the fightin' an' warrin' an' killin' an' abusin', I reckon that'd be a good use fer my super powers.
I'd be able t' persuade all o' the wife beaters an' child abusers t' quit their lowdown ways. I'd be able t' persuade all the vicious pitbulls t' be gentle as lambs. I'd persuade all the remembers o' parliment t' leave off worryin' 'bout pot smokers an' start in worryin' 'bout hungry kiddies here in Canadee an' all 'round the world. I'd persuade the rotten separatists in Q-beck an' Alberty that Canadee is the bestest country in the world an' they oughta pull together instead o' tryin' t' pull us apart.
I'd also persuade Catwoman to join a three-in-a-manger with Ma an' me.
Click here fer the mp3 audio. It's a shorty - only a minute long an' 629 KB.
Three Irishmen, three Irishmen, diggin' in a ditch,
One called the other a dirty son of a
Peter Piper had a dog, a dirty dog was he,
He gave it to his ladyfriend t' keep her company.
She fed it, she trained it, she taught it how t' jump,
It jumped right up her petticoat an' bit her on the
Country boys, country boys, sitting on a rock,
Along came a bumblebee an' stung 'em on the
Cocktails, ginger ale, five cents a glass,
If you don't like it, stick it up yer
Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies,
If you get hit with a bucket o' shit,
Be sure an' close yer eyes.
(Audio version here.)
I hope I don't ruffle too many feathers with that there little tune.
The local gummint moved t' the county seat an' my little town turned inta one o' many squabblin' burgs lookin' fer sum attention from the county. The new regional gummint numbnutses sed our community centre weren't needed no more an' they let it run t' rack an' ruin. Finally, they sed they wanted t' divest themselves o' the broken down buildin'. Sum good folks 'round town got together an' bought the old place from the county an' they raised up sum dough an' now they're fixin' up that old hulk of a place so's it can be a community centre like the town fathers wanted when they built it back in 1902.
I been puttin' in sum volunteer time scrapin' paint an' doin' other stuff like that an' that's why I ain't had time fer my little boog.
My boog readers ain't fergot 'bout me, though, an' a couple of 'em is eggin' me on t' post sum boogs. Ricky Barnes left a comment on my mermaid post that sez I oughtn't hold back on my postin' up a audio boog o' my little schoolyard ditty 'bout Three Irishmen. I'll do that as soon as I get me a chance. Timmy the G over t' Voice in the Widerness wants t' know what sorta super hero I'd like t' be. I'll get sumpin' posted up on that purty soon, too.
Thankee fer the kicks in the ass, RickFeller an' TimFeller. Keep yer eyes an' ears peeled fer sum JimBobby pearls o' wisdom.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Click here fer the audio mp3 (2,078 kb) o' Pete Seeger singin' Oscar Brand's bawdy sea ballad, A Clean Song.
Here's the lyricks:
A CLEAN SONGWhat a laff! I got one sorta like that one that starts out "Three Irishmen, three Irishmen, diggin' in a ditch..."
There was a young sailor
Who looked through the glass,
And spied a fair mermaid
With scales on her island
Fly over their nests
She combed the long hair
That hung over her shoulders
And caused her
To tickle and itch.
The sailor cried out
"There's a beautiful mermaid,"
There on the rocks,
The crew came around
A-grabbing their glasses
And crowded four deep
To the rail,
All eager to share
In this fine piece of news.
Which the captain soon
Heard from the watch.
He tied down the wheel
And he reached for his crackers
And cheese which
He kept near the door.
In case he might someday
Encounter a mermaid.
He knew he must
Use all his wits
Crying "Throw out a line.
We'll lasso her flippers."
And then we will
If mermaids are better
Before or be brave
My good fellows."
The captain then said.
"With fortune we'll break
Through her mermaiden head-
-ing to starboard
They tacked with dispatch.
And caught that fair mermaid
Just under her elbows
And hustled her
Down below decks,
And each took a turn
At her feminine setting
Her free at the end
Of the farce,
She splashed in the waves,
Falling flat on her after
A while one man
Noticed some scabs,
Soon they broke out with the pox
And the scratching
Cursing with spleen,
This song may be dull
But it's certainly clean.
If I don't get too many complaints fer postin' up this here polytickle incorrect mermaid song, mebbe I'll record the Three Irishmen an' post it up fer yer lissenin' pleasure.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
I ain't been able t' work up much steam over this here gumner general shitstorm. I'm against the whole idee o' havin' a representative o' Queen Liz o' Merrie Olde Englande sittin' on a throne here in Canadee. Crimony sakes, ain't we pergressed past the point where we think we oughta bow an' scrape before sum dang bluebloods?
The Queen an' her brood o' inbred younguns oughta be content rulin' the roost over in LimeyLand an' leave Canadee fer Canajuns. We don't need any bonnie princes an' leotard-wearin' lords an' ladies an' dandy dukes lookin' down their snootytoot noses at regular red-blooded Canajuns.
I ain't sure whether or not Michaelle Jean's suited fer the job o' rulin' over Canajuns as the righthand arm o' the Queen o' Canadee. What I am sure 'bout is that the idee o' royalty an' bluebloods is sumpin' we should left off with a hunnert years ago.
I reckon Canajuns oughta have sumbuddy in their corner boostin' up the arts an' culture an' all like ol' General Adrienne's been doin'. I jest don't reckon that oughta have nuthin' t' do with bluebloods an' us bein' subjects o' the Queen o' Merrie Olde Englande. We could have us sum sorta cultural ambassador without the danged ol' queen gettin' in on the act.
One thing I will say is it looks like ol' Fartin' Martin might not o' done his homework when he picked out this here Q-beck gal fer gumner general. I'd o' thought they'd know all this stuff ahead o' time an' then mebbe they'd pick sumbuddy like David Suzuki or Wayne Gretzky or Alex Trebec or William Shatner or Jann Arden or Anne Murray or my dog Spot. I will say ol' Michaelle's better lookin' than any o' them... 'cept fer Spot.
Ol' Spot's doin' dandy. As sum of you might recall, ol' Spot's really not too old. He ain't 2 years old yet an' he's still learnin' lotsa stuff. Him bein' a border collie makes him among the smartypants dogs o' the world an' he's showin' it not bad. Lately, I been workin' on gettin' the little feller t' stick near me when we's out walkin' in the football field an' there's other folks 'round.
He's a sheepherdin' breed an' he likes chasin' stuff like bikes an' jeeps an' 18 wheelers an' garbage trucks an' snow plows an' moms pushin' baby strollers an' ol' gals with walkers an' old boys drivin' mobility carts. I figger he's tryin' t' herd alla them things together when he lights out an' runs circles 'round 'em. He's startin' t' catch on that he can't chase after every movin' thing he sees.
The soybean field where Spot got walked last year got planted in corn this year. Cornfields ain't good dog walkin' grounds like beanfields is. If ol' Spot gets chasin' a rabbit or groundhog through that there corn, he's likely t' get all cut up. On accounta that, ol' Spot gets his walks over t' the ball park this summer.
As fer the damn squirrels, they been stickin' t' the outdoors an' I ain't had any o' the varmints scrabblin' 'round in my attic an' walls, lately. Fall's comin', though, an' spring an' fall's when they seem t' invade. We had a danged ol' raccoon up in the attic an' Ma give up on my manly abilities t' rid our house an' home o' vermin. She called in sum expert feller who looked jest like Dalton Ginty an' he went in the attic an' did sum voodoo incantations an' sprinkled sum magic potions an' powders all 'round. He charged a arm an' a leg but Ma sed she figgered it was best an' Ma's right more often'n me.
Ol' Spot sez he wants t' go over t' the park an' chase the ball fer a spell so here we go.
Friday, August 12, 2005
Back on February the 13th, I posted up a boog story called Canajun Boogers at War an' that's when I got my very first comment at JimBobby Sez. The firstest comment I ever got here was from a bigtime booger an' a one-time Liberal Prince o' Darkness, Warn Kinsellerfeller.
Here's what ol' Warrin' sed --
Fuck, man. That stuff must be hard to write. If it's hard to read, it must be harder to write.Now, I ain't gonna bitch that the very first word o' the very first comment I ever got was "Fuck". If I had my d'ruthers, there'd be a few words I'd'ruther not see on my boog but I'm a free speech advocate an' Warn weren't doin' any slanderin' or puttin' me inta legal jeopardy by usin' the f-word.
I predict you won't last six months, but I'm notoriously pessimistic!
The meat an' bones o' Kinsellerfeller's comment was 'bout my way o' writin' an' he was right as rain 'bout it bein' hard t' write this way. When I was a jest-startin'-out booger, him sayin' I wouldn't last six months was sorta like he was throwin' down the gauntlet.
N'ya, n'ya, n'ya , n'ya, nya-n'ya, WarrenBoy. It's been jest over six months an' I'm still boogin' t' beat the band.
I reckon I owe Kinsellerfeller a big thankee, though. There's been a time or two when I thought 'bout throwin' in the boogin' towel but whenever that happened, I thought 'bout the very firstest comment t' my boog an' 'bout ol' WarrenFeller an' I dragged my sorry ass up t' the keyboard an' hammered out a rantin' ravin' boog story.
Thankee fer the kick in the ass, Kinsella.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
I've had my own troublems with lyin' boogers who won't come clean so I know what JayFeller an' Ian is goin' through. Over t' that boog, the AdminFeller sed --
"Listen folks, Jim Bobby is free to post here; he wasn’t banned. The reason some of his comments were not visible in this thread is because he does seem to be able to write proper English (or any language for that matter) and his posts are often riddled with foul language. These two factors lead to our spam comment filter to filter his nearly unreadable comments out."Well, that can't possibly be true, sez I.
If my comments is gettin' filtered out automatically, how is it that commenters who copy an' paste bigass direct quotes from my comments still get publicated? If that spam filter's kickin' my comments out, how come it ain't kickin' comments that quote the full text o' my comments? The lyin' snakes'll come up with anuther lie t' explain their bias an' dishonesty but nobuddy'll buy that any more than they're buyin' the horsepuckey bein' spewed by ColdBert.
Ol' TedwardT's got hisself a good boog post up 'bout this ColdBert thingy. Karaoke Night In Blogland: Brent Colbert Does The Beatles. It's a laff, no two ways.
JameseyBoy Bow's boogin' on this here dustup, too. Right Down the Memory Hole.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
One thing Darcy sed was — “... stand up for Canada before there is nothing left to stand up for.”
I reckon that's what I'm doin'.
In Darce's comments, the same folks agitatin' fer separatism is also backin' Stevie Harpoon an' the CPC. That gets me wonderin’ sumpin’. If the separatists is backin’ the CPC. Is the CPC a federalist, national party or is it an Alberta separatist party. I don’t reckon anybuddy outside o’ Alberty’d wanna vote fer an Alberty separatist so how can anybuddy blame Ontario fer not votin’ fer Harpoon?
When the damn separatists in Q-beck agitate, it’s all ’bout culture an’ language an’ such. When the AlienAlberts agitate, it’s all ’bout money. Money. Money. Money. There’s sum greedy bastards who can’t think o’ nuthin’ else an’ are willin’ t’ sell their patriotism t’ the highest bidder.
If the Alberty separatists was fightin’ fer culture, they might be worthy o’ sum respect. When they’re jest lookin’ fer more bucks in their pockets, they get pitied an’ scorned like the prostitutes they are.
Jest suppose these numbnutses could ever convince enuff Alberty voters t’ separate –
- Is the sovereign nation of Alberty gonna print it’s own money? Any idee on how the Alberty dollar’ll do on the world money markets?
- Is Alberty gonna build up it’s own military? How’re the Merkins gonna react to a new national army on its border?
- Will every border crossin’ be like Windsor/Detroit or Ft. Erie/Buffalo? How much will it cost t' build all them checkpoints an' hire all o' them border guards?
- How ’bout tariffs an’ import-export duties? Nafta? Cafta?
- Is the sovereign nation of Alberty gonna accept immigrants from Sasky or Newfie or Montana? Is Canadee gonna accept immigrants from Alberty?
- Is Alberty gonna send a ambassador t’ the UN? How ’bout diplomats fer all the countries in the world? Got that in the budget?
- How’s Alberty gonna do tradin’ on the world markets when she’s a landlocked nation with a population of 'bout 3 million?
- How ’bout all the existin’ federal real estate like post office buildin’s an’ army camps? Is Alberty plannin’ t’ buy them from TROC or do they reckon we’ll jest hand ‘em over fer free?
- How ’bout all o’ the federal gummint employees workin’ in Alberty? Is Alberty gonna give ‘em all jobs?
- How ’bout the First Nations? Is Alberty gonna honour treaties signed by Canajuns? What if the First Nations wanna separate from Alberty?
- What about the patriotic federalist Alberts who vote “No” in a referendumb? Do they get Alberty cityzenship or do they get deported t’ Canadee? Is 50% +1 enuff t’ separate? How’s the new nation gonna fare if 49% don’t wanna new nation?
- How ’bout the Canadee Pension Plan? Anybuddy reckon Canadee’ll wanna finance pensions in sum new foreign country?
- How ’bout the “stoopid” charter o’ rights Ezra an’ his bunch don’t like? Will the cityzens o’ Alberty know whether they get any rights before they vote t’ break up our home an’ native land?
In 50 years or so, after the oil’s gone or scarce an' after the world’s figgered out how t’ run cars an’ generate electricity from alternate fuels an’ after a few more mad cow incidents kill the beef market, is Alberty gonna come beggin’ Canadee t’ let ‘er back in?
My ol’ Pappy useta say — “Don’t cut off yer nose t’ spite yer face.” I reckon sum Alien Alberts might wanna take a damn good look before they leap.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
I made up a audio recordin' fer yer lissenin' pleasure. It's 'specially mournful soundin' an' like always, I'm all capella-like without any banjo-pickin' or cordeen playin' or nuthin'.
Click right here fer the mp3 audio.
The House in OttawaAn' I gotta thank Johnny Fewings, the cartoon drawin' feller, fer lettin' me post my mp3 audio boogs up ont' his website space. Thankee again, JohnFeller.
There is a house in Ottawa,
Called the senate o' Canadee,
An' it's been the gravy train for many a fat cat,
Now five more are ridin' free.
Pryminister Fartin' Martin frets
'Bout the deficit in democracy,
But thanks to him the unelected house
Has five more ridin' free.
Now, we got Senator Larry Campbell,
Better known as DaVinci,
The coroner mayor o' Vancouver town,
Is one more ridin' free.
An' Senator Hughey Segal,
Lyin' Brian'd be happy to see,
There's gravy train seats for Red Tories, now,
An' Segal's ridin' free.
Martin's a sly one, there ain't no doubt,
With one stone he took out three,
Female, French and Conservative, too,
Champagne is ridin' free.
A couple more Liberal buddy boys
Bagman Zimmer an' Dawson, MP.
Hopped aboard the gravy train,
Where there's five more ridin' free.
Now, mothers, tell your children,
T' fight for democracy.
An unelected upper house just ain't right,
Where Senators ride for free.
Now the way I hear tell, Harper wants t' give back sum tax money t' fellers an' gals who don't drive cars or SUV's t' work an' ride the transit instead. Well sir, anything that gets a few chokin' smokin' autymobiles offa the road is good fer Canadee, sez I. We're killin' our stoopid selves with poison air pollution an' Harpoon's tax rebate idee can't hurt.
I seen a coupla other fellers talkin' on this an one feller asked 'bout the pore folks who ride the bus but don't pay much tax. That does make fer a small troublem with Harpoon's idee but I reckon them smartypantses at CCRA could figger out sum sorta tax credit an' give sum dough t' the pore fellers an' gals who ride the subway on accounta they can't afford t' drive a SUV.
I reckon the simplest thing'd be jest t' give money t' the transit outfits so's they could cut the cost of a ticket down an' sum folks'd have enuff left over fer a cup o' Horton's on the way t' work. But I reckon Harpoon's got an easier job sellin' tax cuts than he'd get sellin' a bigger subsidy t' the TTC. Smart polyticks.
Now, the other feller flippin' burgers in Canadee this Summer is Pryminister Polly Wolly Fartin' Martin. Ol' Fartin' Martin jest appointed 5 new senators t' the Canajun Senate. A few days ago, I give Harpoon shit fer floggin' a dead horse in the selfsame sexy marryin' department. Well, Martin's floggin' a dead horse by addin' t' the roster o' senators.
I sed one other time I reckon the upper house senate's a gravy train polytickle patronage retirement home fer friends o' pryministers. I also come out fer reform an' Triple-E don't scare me none. Polly Boy oughtn't be feedin' the pot, sez I.
It don't matter t' me if Fartin' Martin appointed a coupla Conservatives or if he appointed sum First Nations or if he appointed Domenic DaVinci or my Aunt Nelly. The dang senate's a undemocratic, useless throwback t' the days o' royal pain in the ass bluebloods. We don't need no unelected ol' farts settin' up in Ottywa takin' fatass salaries fer doin' diddly-squat.
The GritFellers oughta either reform the senate or lose it, altogether. Don't keep handin' out polyticle plums t' yer buddies. That's a tradition that shoulda wore out 50 years ago.