Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Playground on the Rideau

Whooee! Well friends an' foes, it's been more'n ten days since ol' JimBobby posted up a boog story. It ain't on accounta nuthin's been happenin' in the world o' polyticks. Mebbe it's jest that I been so damn disgusted with the whole ding-dong buncha idjits we sent t' Ottywa t' run the country. Shee-it! Them numbnutses is actin' like kindergarten kiddies in the playground. All the namecallin' an' mudslingin' an' parlimentary pickyness an' posturin' jest makes me so damn sad 'bout what's happenin' t' our home an' native land that I don't hardly know what t' say 'bout it.

Ol' Harpoon wanted an election vote. Nevermind that nobuddy else wanted t' go out an' vote jest a year after we voted last time. Nevermind that Polly Wolly Fartin' Martin out-polyticked StevieBoy with his TV show promise t' call an election vote 30 days after Justus Gumper's Choir Show sings its grand finalee. Nevermind that he jest lost the best thing he had goin' fer hisself when it comes t' puttin' on the moderate face in Ontariariario. Nevermind that the CPC an' Bloc combined only got 42% of the popular vote an' the Grits an' DippyWips combined got 52%. It's "Damn the torpedoes. Full speed ahead." fer the HarpoonTosser.

I reckon I wouldn't mind havin' an election vote this summer but I hear tell most Canajuns ain't too keen on the idee. I reckon democracy is mostly 'bout majority rule an' if the majority o' Canucks wanna wait on Gumper's report, fine by me. The bestest thing 'bout havin' an election vote is I could get in there an' vote fer "None o' the above."

An' what the hell's goin' on with this here Gurmont Grewal remember o' parliment? The day before the budget vote, ol' GreyWall sez the Pryminister's office was offerin' up bigass bribes fer Mr. an' Mrs. GrayWal t' set out the vote. He sez he's got the tapes t' prove the whole sordid mess. That was damn near two weeks ago an' the CPC ain't turned over that there tape or made the whole tape 'vailable t' anybuddy. If it's so damn incriminatin', they oughta let the whole thing out right off the bat. I see ol' Inky Dinky Inkwells is wonderin' what's up with this here tape, too. Polly Wells sez the CPC's actin' like kiddies an' I say he's on the money a hunnert percents worth.

It makes me wonder if the CPC might be usin' all this time t' doctor up them tapes. Either that or mebbe the tapes show jest what sum folks sez - mebbe ol' Grewal was fishin' fer a plum an' used the tape recorder t' lay a trap fer the Grits. Whatever reason the HarpoonTossers got fer holdin' onta them tapes, nobuddy's buyin' anymore. The longer they hold 'em, the worse the Cons is lookin'. Mebbe the whole tape is gonna make them GreyWalleyes look so sick that the CPC hasta toss 'em back inta the lake. Yeow! That'd sure hurt the Big-C's if they was t' lose a coupla more MP's.

I reckon Canajuns jest want grownups t' act like grownups an' t' run the country like we elected 'em t' do. I hate t' hafta admit it but the onliest one lookin' like a grownup lately is ol' HappyJack Laydown. If the Grits an' the Cons don't quit actin' like kiddies in the playground an' start actin' like remembers o' parliment, the DippyWips'll be the bigass winners next time around. Them an' the rotten separatist BlocHeads.

Yores trooly,

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

The Wreck o' the Good Ship Belinda

Whooee! I wrote me a little song 'bout ol' B-Linda an' I made a audio boog mp3 recordin' o' me singin' it fer all o' my thousands an' thousands o' readers.

The Wreck o' the Good Ship Belinda

The legend lives on from Ottawa on down
Of the parliament gal called Belinda.
The Conservative scamp joined the Liberal camp;
Yessir, that's the big tent she went inta.

With a load o' Dad's money, she's a cute, little honey
And ol' Prime Minister Martin's sure happy.
The rich, glamour-gal's got some 905 pals,
And MagnaMoney from Frankie, her Pappy.

Belinda was the pride of the Red Tory side,
On gay marriage and such, she's progressive.
An' now Harper's bunch say she's right out t' lunch
The mud-slingin' is gettin' obsessive.

Justice Gomery's inquiry's makin' tattletale sounds
'Bout a wave of Liberal wrong-doin'.
The Grits' AdScam dirt was startin' t' hurt;
In the polls, they was takin' a screwin'.

The PM came late and the press corps hadta wait
For a ten fifty-five mornin' briefin'.
Belinda's bomsbshell blew 'em all clear t' hell,
Said the Big-C's she'd lost all belief in.

The pundits chimed in with inevitable spin,
On her goin' where offers was sweeter,
Her lustin' for power made her gal o' the hour;
She's got some 'splainin' t' do to ol' Peter.

In a musty old hall in Newmarket they prayed
In Conservative riding headquarters.
The money all spent, they asked who'll pay the rent?
Has Frank got anymore daughters?

Does anyone know where Belinda will go,
When she finds out the Liberals are rotten?
Belinda might stay or she might fade away;
It ain't likely she'll be soon forgotten.

Click here t' lissen t' ol' JimBobby singin' off key.

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Killin' the Job

Whooee! I jest read a CP story in the Yahoo News 'bout the gang o' four bigass party leaders jumpin' inta the fast lane an' gettin' sum work done. Alls it took was t' lock ol' Fartin Martin, the CheeseHat, the HarpoonTosser an' ol' HappyJack inside of an Airbus 310 fer 'bout seven hours.
OTTAWA (CP) - Prime Minister Paul Martin and the three federal party leaders reached an agreement late Monday night to fast-track a new $1-billion veterans charter through the Commons.

The surprise deal came after the politicians received some poor reviews from Second World War veterans at Victory in Europe anniversary celebrations. Martin, NDP Leader Jack Layton, Gilles Duceppe of the Bloc Quebecois and Conservative Stephen Harper sealed the deal during their return flight to Ottawa from the Netherlands.
When I first seen that, I wondered how Harpoon an' the BlocHead coulda signed on if they're set on knockin' down the LeftyLib gummint 'round 5:30 this afternoon. Later on in the story, they sez the four horsemen got it settled so's the whole deal'll get passed through the parliment this week.

Shee-it! These lazyasses been screwin' the pooch fer the past year-an'-a-haff. They know how t' work. They jest ain't been doin' any.

When yer out on the jobsite poundin' nails or yer drivin' a truck or workin' in the field or servin' up coffee at Timmy's, sumbuddy's payin' yer wages. Settin' 'round arguin' an' fightin' amongst t'other workers an' not gettin' nuthin' done ain't what yer gettin' paid fer. Same thing goes fer remembers o' parliment. An' Canajuns is the ones who's payin' the wages.

Back in ancient times when ol' JimBobby was still young JimBobby, I had me a few jobs o' work an' mostly I'd be workin' long side o' fellers who was older an' more wise in the ways o' the world than me. Them fellers taught me a few things 'bout workin' fer wages. Mostly what I learnt was good, I reckon, but they taught me one thing I ain't so sure about.

When yer young an' fit an' rosy-cheeked, yer energy's up high an' when sumbuddy's payin' yer wages, yer rarin' t' give 'em yer all. The old-timers an' also the union stews don't like when they see sum punkass 20 year-old workin' fast. They gotta name fer that sorta thing an' in case you ain't heard it before, it's "killin' the job."

"Don't kill the job, kid."

Firstest time I remember sumbuddy sayin' that was when I was workin' in a steel-rollin' mill. A feller come up behind me when I was tong-tossin' some pieces o' hot steel inta a big ol' hopper. I was so green I looked at that feller all pie-eyed an' asked him what the hell was he talkin' 'bout. I din't know what "kill the job" meant. I was jest workin' as best as I could. An' that there was the whole problem. The feller told me how he was the union guy fer that part o' the mill an' if the foreman sees sumbuddy workin' too hard, he's gonna want everybuddy to work jest as hard an' that ain't how it's sposed t' be.

I weren't so stoopid that I din't catch on once that feller spelled it all out. A few more times when I was still a young feller workin' here an' there, an older but wiser feller whispered that selfsame advice in my ear when they seen me workin' too fast fer their likin'. Now that I'm an older an' wiser feller, nobuddy tells me that any more. I reckon, that's on accounta I don't get movin' too fast these days.

Well, gettin' back t' them four fellers who showed Canajuns what they can do if they set their minds to it, I reckon we're the foremen an' the polyticians is the lazyasses who been slackin' off. Now, they went an' killed the job. They showed their bosses what they can do an', dammit, we oughta start expectin' that sorta hard work from here on out.

I reckon mebbe there's a formula fer gettin' an honest day's work outta these Ottywa polyticians.
  1. Firstest thing, load 'em inta a bus. It don't needta be an Airbus jest so long as they're all aboard an' they can't get out fer a few hours. Better load sum mainstreet media folks in the bus, too, jest t' keep an eye on 'em fer their bosses (that's us).
  2. Next thing, make 'em stand up in front of a buncha Canajuns who's deservin' respect, like all them there veterans over in Yerp. Make 'em lissen t' what's grievin' them good folks.
  3. Then, stick 'em back in the bus fer a few more hours. Toss in the MSM fellers an' gals, too.
  4. Wait one week an' yer new legislation'll get passed through parliment slicker'n juice through a goose.
Then, jest do the selfsame thing over again every week. I reckon if the remembers o' parliment get a big 4 weeks holidays, they oughta be able to repeat this here routine 48 times a year. If the MP's think it's too hard, they only got their bossmen t' blame fer killin' the job.

Yores trooly,

Saturday, May 07, 2005

Kinsellerfeller's Fightin' a War

Whooee! I jest read this here in ol' Warrin' Kinsellerfeller's boog -
I fought with a raccoon in our garage last night. I don't know how the little bastard got in, but I can report that - after an epic battle involving a hose, pepper spray and a golf ball retriever - the little bastard is still there. I'm at work, meanwhile, waiting to hear from the raccoon removal guy.
I know how yer feelin', Warrin'. Them raccoons is crafty ol' devils. Way craftier'n that other ol' devil yer fightin' - Inspector Normy.

A couplafew weeks ago, I wrote me sum boog stories 'bout the damn squirrels in the walls an' attic o' my shack. I figgered it was squirrels on accounta we had 'em here before. Shee-it! One time, we even had one walk upstairs outta the basement an' inta the dinin' room. Anuther time, I was eyeball t' eyeball with one of 'em that was settin' on top o' the frigerator. I ain't sayin' what happened next on accounta I don't want any troublems with the squirrel rights activists.

Well, what I thought was squirrels turned out t' be a big ol' coon. T'other day, the lezzy gals next door come by an' sed there's sum little fingers pokin' outta the vent shutter up near the peak o' the roof. Sure enuff, there was.

We counted up the kiddies an' figgered out it weren't one o' them stuck in the attic. I went upstairs with a stepladder an' poked my head through the trap door. Yeow! I was eyeball t' eyeball with a jumbo-sized ringtailed rascal. I figgered mebbe the bestest thing was t' get the 22 an' shoot the sumbitch. Ma din't think so. Neither did the lezzy gals.

Everybuddy sed mebbe it was a MamaCoon an' mebbe she had herself a nest o' baby ringtails an' if I was t' shoot the mama, the little darlin' orphans'd die an' stink t' high heaven. Jest like ol' Kinseller sez he done, Ma called in the varmint movers.

After that coon caught a glimpse o' my mizzable face, we din't hear a peep from the attic or the walls but a few days later the feller come by t' do the perfeshional movin' job. I ain't kiddin' when I sez I thought it was Dalton Ginty knockin' on my door. That pest remover was the spittin' image only he sed his name was Mark.

Almost $400 later, he come down outta the attic an' sed there ain't any coon babies an' no bigass coon up there, neither. He reckoned the critter got in through a roof fan we put up there a few years back an' he set up a one-way door contraption t' let anythin' out but not t' let 'em back in.

My advice t' Warrin' is t' fergit 'bout callin' Dalton Ginty's twin brother. Jest get on the horn t' sum o' yer Libranos buddies an' have 'em drop by yer garage fer a bit o' pistol practice.

Yores trooly,

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

That's a Damn Big Burger

burgerWhooee! I jest come across this here story 'bout a burger joint down in Pennsylvania that cooked up a 15 pound hamburger. Now, beef don't agree with Ma's constitution so around JimBobby's house we don't eat too much of it. I figger mebbe I oughta be eatin' more red meat jest t' keep my testosterone an' killer instinct at the right level. I don't reckon I'd be able t' get too far inta that there 15 pounder with or without cheese, though.

When I read the story in the Pittsburg Post-Gazette, sumpin' 'bout it din't seem quite right.
The burger starts out, as burgers typically do, as a large slab of raw ground meat -- 280 ounces of extra lean beef shipped up from Pittsburgh. That's enough beef to make 70 McDonald's quarter pounders.
Now, mebbe I ain't the bestest when it comes t' spellin' an' grammar but I reckon I ain't so bad at doin' the multiplyin' an' dividin'. If they had 280 ounces an' there's 16 ounces in a pound an' 4 ounces in a quarter-pound, then they're right bout the part where it'd make 70 quarter pounders. The thing is, they sez the burger's 15 pounds an' 280 ounces is really 17 an' a haff pounds.

It sure weren't fast food. They hadta cook that baby fer 2 an' a haff hours.

Yores trooly,

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Dealin' With the Devil

Whooee! These days, when sumbuddy sez sumpin' 'bout a deal with the devil, yer firstest thought is the Grittyfellers dealin' with the Dips or the Dippers dealin' with the Grits. Shee-it! I don't reckon too many Canajuns really think ol' Fartin' Martin or Jack Laydown is devils. That ain't t' say that real devils don't exist an' that deals ain't been made.

I'm talkin' 'bout Karla Homolka.

The dumbasses who made a deal with that murderin' devil is seein' their chickens comin' home t' roost. The willin' accomplice o' Paul Bernardo is set t' get outta jail in a coupla months an' nobuddy seems t' know what t' do about it.

I seen a TV show the other night called Cold Case where they was about t' release a serial killer on accounta he served all the time in his sentence. The smartypants detectives figgered a way t' keep the killer in jail. They found out 'bout a murder he weren't charged with an' got'm on it. Mebbe the coppers could do sumpin' like that with Karla. How 'bout that there Elizabeth Bain case that's lookin' like mebbe it was Bernardo done the killin' an' not the dead gal's boyfriend?

Elsewise, mebbe they could release her t' the Merkins an' they could send her t' Syria fer questionin'.

Yores trooly,