What Kind o' Bird is This?

Whooee! Ma was workin' out in the garden an' she come in an' fetched me t' look at this here yellow bird that was hopping 'round the driveway an' eatin' seeds offa sum purple flowers Ma's got growing alongside the laneway.
Here's a pitcher o' the bird --



Here's another pitcher with the hose nozzle in there so you can see how big it is. I reckon it's bigger'n any goldfinches.


I'm thinkin' it was somebuddy's pet canary that flew the coop. It was hardly afraid o' Ma an' me an' we almost was able t' catch it with our bare hands. In the end, it flew off.

Anybuddy think it was sumpin' other'n a pet canary? Mebbe it was sum rare wild bird got steered off course with all o' this here hot weather we got.

Yores trooly,
JimBobby

Gourdstock Nation

Whooee! Well friends an' foes, yesterday Ma sez t' me -- "Wanna go t' Gourdstock?" I got me a cuzzin name o' Gord an' I know a few other fellers name o' Gord. I wasn't sure what in the hell Gourdstock was an' I wondered if it might be only fer fellers name o' Gord. Turns out it was all 'bout them gourds that's sorta like punkins 'cept I don't reckon yer gonna be able t' make any pies outta them there hard-shell gourds.

Whenever I see gourds in the groceteria, they're always little wee tiny things where you can put a whole whack of 'em in a wooden bowl. At Gourdstock, they had great huge gourds an' they made all sortsa purty stuff out of 'em. Here's a pitcher of a booth where they was sellin' banjos an' git-fiddles made outta gourds. The feller was doin' sum strummin', too, an' he weren't haff bad.



Ma plays the mandolin an' I thought mebbe she'd like t' try a gourd banjo but she din't like the idee o' no frets on the fingerboards.

They had lotsa fancy painted an' decorated up gourds on display an' they had prize ribbons on them that was the bestest ones. Sum folks sure got lotsa patience an' talent fer turnin' an ol' gourd inta a work of art, no two ways.

They was servin' up burgers an' other food an' the whole place was filled up with a coupla hunnert ol' hippies. One feller who was sellin' decorated gourds an' hookahs made o' gourds an' little stash boxes made o' gourds had a sign on the wall o' his tent that sed he donates a portion o' his takin's t' NORML.

They had entertainment there, too. Out on the grass, they had sum hula dancers doin' sum Hawaiian moves. I think them dancers come all the way from Trawna (centre o' the universe) t' perform at Gourdstock. Here's a pitcher I took o' them purty gals shakin' their gourds.



They was also puttin' on demonstrations 'bout doin' crafty stuff with gourds. Here's a pitcher.



I reckon there was sum other Trawna folks come all the way down t' Bealton fer Gourdstock. Out in the parkin' field, I seen a Toyotee Prius. We ain't got any o' them in my little town, yet, an' this one I seen had a sign on it sed AutoShare.com. I reckon that's sum city-fellers' scheme.

Ma an' I had us a little chat with the feller who started up Gourdstock. He was a nice feller, no two ways. I gotta give'm credit where credit's due fer puttin' on such a dandy show. I din't catch his name but I wanna give'm a pat on the back anyways. Ma an' I'll be back fer next year's Gourdstock.

Yores trooly,
JimBobby

Hot Branding News

Whooee! Well, if yer up on the latest lingo in the advertisin' an' marketin' world, you probbly heard the word "branding" tossed around a lot. When these here web marketin' gurus is spoutin' off, they'll usually blather on a bit 'bout the importance o' good brandin'. I reckon they're talkin' 'bout gettin' folks t' recognize yer logo an' trademark an' company slogan. Stuff like that.

So today, I come across two different stories in the news 'bout brandin' an' neither one has t' do with marketin' yer brand in the advertisin' sense. Both stories is about burnin' hot iron pressed inta flesh like back in the old west when Rowdy Yates an' Gil Favor was drivin' big ol' herds 'cross the open range.

The first story I come across was on the CBC where they're tellin' 'bout a new rule sez if Canajun sheep ranchers wanna export their sheep an' lambs over t' the Merkins, they gotta brand the pore little critters with a red hot brandin' iron. Yeow! That's gonna hurt. Here's a wee bit from that there CBC story --

"When you're talking about branding cattle for export to the States, you're usually talking about an animal that's 800 to 900 pounds," he said.

"We're talking about lambs here that are 80 to 90 pounds, and to put a large brand on a small lamb would just be cruel."

In Canada, sheep are identified by ear tags, a system the Americans don't recognize.

Morvik said that in addition to the cruelty issue, branding a lamb means shaving off valuable wool. It would also ruin the skin, which is used in leather products.

I sure as hell don't like the sounds o' that sort o' brandin'.

Jest after I got through readin' that sheep story, I come across a story 'bout a gal down in New York City who got branded with the name o' the electric company Consolidated Edison. Turns out the gal was skateboardin' an' she fell on to a manhole cover an' that there manhole cover was pipin' hot an' it burned a brand on to her jest above her ass an' also on her arm. I guess she's suin' the ass off o' Con Ed.

Yores trooly,
JimBobby

Senate Supports Selfsame Sexy Marryin' (poem)

Whooee! Well, regular readers'll mebbe remember that I ain't got much use fer the retirement home fer friends o' pryministers we call the Canajun Senate. No matter what I think, the senate hasta sign off on any laws getting passed by the remembers o' the commonhouse. Well, them senators did their job an passed bill C-38, the selfsame sexy marryin' law.

In honour o' the occasion, I wrote up a little wee poem.

Ode to C-38

Go fill up yer teacups an' all gather 'round.
I'll tell you about a fine day,
When the senators up there in Ottawa town,
Made it legal fer marryin' gay.

The debate it had raged fer more'n three years
And then they passed C-38,
Making it legal fer queers t' wed queers,
Now they don't hafta fornicate.

Most Canajun people is proud o' the fact
Equal rights was extended t' gays.
Soon Chambers o' Commerce'll get in the the act,
Lurin' tourists with Homo-Theme Days.

But off t' the right, there's a grumblin' sound,
From Conservative Stephen Harpoon.
He imagines himself in a gay weddin' gown,
An' it makes pore ol' Stevie Boy swoon.

Ol' Steve won't give up with his anti-gay fight.
If elected, that law he's revokin'.
More'n half o' Canajuns say that law is alright.
Steve feller, what are you smokin'?

The fight it's all over. Equal rights won.
Opponents should jest fade away.
Summer's the time fer weddin' day fun.
Now, some o' those weddin's are gay.

Way off in the future we'll talk of these days
An' laugh at ourselves an' our fears,
When some people thought that marryin' gays
Would turn the whole world inta queers.

Cowboy Steve Floggin' Dead Horses

Whooee! Well friends an' foes, I jest seen a story 'bout Stevie Harpoon kissin' George W. Bush's ass down in Washington. Harper told Bushfeller a Big-C gummint in Canadee'd be keen on joinin' up with the Merkins on the Ballstick Missile Fence. In case anybuddy fergot, Polly Wolly Fartin' Martin sed sumpin' like that awhile back. Then, ol' Pryminister PollyBoy realized that most Canajuns is dead set against ballstick missiles an' he told ol' Dubya we weren't joinin' up.

Don't Harpoon unnerstand that if yer lookin' t' get elected, you gotta say stuff that most Canajuns are gonna agree with?

The Ballstick Missile Fence issue is a done deal - a dead horse. It's over. We ain't ridin' that pony. We're glad we ain't. We don't wanna saddle up an' ride that territory again -- 'specially on a dead horse.

Ballstick missiles ain't the only dead horse Cowboy Stevie's floggin'. The pinion pools is sayin' 55% o' Canajuns is happy as Larry with the selfsame sexy marryin' law that was jest passed. Harpoon sez he's gonna repeal that there piece o' pergressive legislation. Numbnuts!

Mebbe ol' SteveFeller can dress up like a cowboy an' look stoopid but that don't mean he oughta jump on one dead horse after another an' act stoopid, too.

Yores trooly,
JimBobby

Axe-grindin' in the Mainstreet Media

Whooee! I jest seen a boog story posted up by ol' Elvis over t' BoogsCanadee where he's yammerin' 'bout Macleans an' Polly Wolly Inkwells an' how the Macleans is all conservative accordin' t' a pergressive booger, Amazin' WonderPup. Well friends an' foes, I reckon ol' Inky Wells is anti-Fartin' Martin but he sez sum anti-Harpoon stuff, too. I don't reckon too many folks is lookin' fer middle-o'-the-road objectivity from the mainstreet media (MSM).

The Trawna (centre o' the universe) Star's Liberal. The Post's Conservative. The Globe used t' be Conservative but lately they been hedgin' their bets. CanWest GlowBall is like the National Poster Boys an' all o' them there Sun papers -- Conservative. Everybuddy sez the CBC is Liberal but I ain't exactly buyin' that on accounta the bigass job they done on reportin' all 'bout the AdScammers.

The part in ol' Elvis's boog story that's got ol' JimBobby chewin' nails an' fartin' tacks is where he tells 'bout all o' these here Canajun magazines gettin' bigass handouts from the gummint. The gummint's money is really all of our money. The gumment gets its money from Canajuns an' spends it like Canajuns want 'em to. Leastwise, that's how it's spose t' work.

Here's a big list of magazines that get handouts from the gummint.

Yeow! Chatelaine gets tons o' taxpayer luckybucks an so do a whole buncha other Canajun magazines. How come we're payin' good tax money t' outfits like all them there Jesus freak magazines? I din't figger the gummint was in the bizness o' givin' money t' churches an' 'vangelizers. Guess I was all wet.

Yores trooly,
JimBobby

Pergressive Boogers

Whooee! Well friends an' foes, ol' JimBobby went an' signed up with the Pergressive Boogers. If you look over there on the righthand side down at the bottom you'll see a little Pergressive Boogers button. If you click on it, you'll get t' see sum other pergressive fellers' an' gals' boogs.

Now, I reckon mebbe sum o' my more conservative readers might take exception t' seein' a hick like me callin' hisself pergressive. Mebbe sum liberals might think the selfsame thing.

Here's how I figger it works.

You gotcher pergressives, yer regressives an' yer status quo's.

Status quo's like everything jest like it is. They're nice folks but they don't wanna hear 'bout any changes like endin' poverty an' war. They reckon we're doin' jest fine.

Regressives is hopin' things can get back t' the good ol' days when men was men an' there weren't any selfsame sexy marryin'; an' when Canadee was ruled by ol' Queen Vickie; an' when divorce was illegal an' wife-beatin' was legal. I reckon there's a few things that was better in the good ol' days but mostly I reckon them regressives who have a hankerin' fer things t' go backwards ain't thinkin' 'bout lots o' things that's better now. I can't throw my lot in with the regressives.

That leaves the pergressives. Well when yer a pergressive, yer lookin' fer change but the change yer lookin' fer is movin' ahead instead o' movin' backwards. I'm fer makin' things better an' movin' ahead. I figger that's what makes me a pergressive an' that there's why I joined up with the Pergressive Boogers.

Since I joined up, I seen a few new folks droppin' by an' I wanna offer up a heapin' helpin' o' hospitality. Come on over an' chew the fat any time.

Yores trooly,
JimBobby

Annie McLellan sez -- "The sky is fallin' "

Whooee! I jest seen a story in the Yahoo News where Canajun Publick Safety Minister Annie (Gonna Getchergun) McLellan sez Canajuns ain't pairynoid enuff. We ain't psychologically ready fer terrists t' blow stuff up here in our home an' native land. Shee-it! What's ol' AnnieGal thinkin'?

I reckon she thinks we Canajuns oughta be all suspicious an' terrorized like the pore Merkins is. Mebbe she figgers we oughta get us a red, orange an' yeller terrist warnin' system. Mebbe we oughta start keepin' track o' who reads what at the publick liberry. Mebbe we need t' start lookin' over our shoulders an' reportin' t' CSIS everytime we see a Arab talkin' t'another Arab. Mebbe we all oughta buy guns an' carry 'em around in the glove compartment.

Ol' Annie sez Canajuns ain't psyched up fer bein' killed when we're goin' about our own daily bizness. Who is? I can't see how anybuddy's sposed t' getted psyched fer havin' the subway bombed. Us bein' afraid ain't gonna stop terrists. If we're terrorized by jest the threat o' terrism, then them there terrists already won the first battle an' it's Annie McLellan who's wavin' the white flag.

When them there Londoners went out t' work on the day after them rotten sumbitches bombed them pore people, they showed they wasn't all terrorized with fear. Is anybuddy thinkin' them pore folks who died wouldn't o' died if they'd only been more psychologically prepared? I don't.

I'm all fer AnnieGal makin' sure we got good emergency fellers an' gals an' good communications in case sum bastards try t' terrorize Canajuns. I'm all fer the Minister o' Publick Safety makin' sure the publick is as safe as can be. I'm all fer checkin' fer bombs an' tryin' t' root out them who'd kill innocent Canajuns.

I ain't all fer fear-mongerin', though. When the bigass headline sez -- "Canadians not psychologically ready for threat of terror, McLellan says" -- I reckon she's barkin' up the wrong tree. Everybuddy knows they gotta expect the unexpected.

Most o' that there article ain't about Canajuns' psycho-readiness. It's mostly 'bout the emergency service folks gettin' their shit together. That don't have diddly t' do with the publick's psychology. Makin' sure emergency service folks got their shit together's Annie's job. Tryin' t' get Canajuns t' run around willy-nilly worryin' 'bout the sky fallin' down is the terrists' job.

Yores trooly,
JimBobby

Karl Rove, Beans Spiller

Whooee! Well friends an' foes, I been readin' 'bout ol' GeorgieBoy Bushfeller's best buddy, Karl Rove, an' how ol' Karl's the prime suspect in the Valerie Plame affair. Yeow! If it turns out t' be true, mebbe ol' Karl'll end up in the hoose-cow. Sure as shit, he oughta be out of a job.

In case anybuddy fergot, Valerie Plame is the wifemate of a Merkin dipplymat name o' Joseph Wilson. ValerieGal's also a secret agent workin' fer the CIA. Joe Wilsonfeller come out an' sed Dubya was full o' horsepuckey 'bout Ben Laden's crew tryin' t' get hold o' sum uranium in Africa. Right after that, sum bigtime mainstreet media fellers an' gals got word 'bout Mrs. Wilson bein' a secret agent. They sed the leak come outta the White House but Ol' Dubya's PR boy, Scottie McClellan sed that weren't so an' Dubya weren't gonna tolerate no leakin' outta the White House.

So now, they got it pretty well nailed down who the leaker was an' it looks like it was ol' Rovefeller hisself who done the dirty deed.

I reckon the onliest thing Bushfeller can do is t' fire his buddyboy an' have'm charged with revealin' state secrets. He oughta go t' jail fer a coupla hunnert years. Mebbe they'll send the sumbitch t' Gitmo. Probbly, they'll try t' let the snake slither away.

I figger everybuddy oughta be payin' close attention t' what happens next so's we can see which one Dubya loves best - his home an' native land or a polytickal puppeteer who puts polyticks over top o' state security.

Yores trooly,
JimBobby

Sumbitch Bombers

Whooee! Well friends an' foes, ol' JimBobby's blood's a-boilin'. Them sumbitches who blowed up them trains an' that there bus in Merrie Olde Englande got me pissed off, no two ways. Craven coward killers is what they are. Or "was" mebbe, if they was suicide bombers.

I hear tell they found a coupla other bombs that din't go off. I hope that's true on accounta that's how they caught sum o' them rotten bastards in Spain. They found themselves a dud bomb an' it had a cell phone trigger an' the dumbass who used it left all sortsa stuff in there.

Suicide bombers is sumpin' that I can't hardly unnerstand. I reckon that's true fer most folks -- includin' the folks who's in charge o' stoppin' terrism. I wonder if the big generals in this here War on Terror are tryin' t' unnerstand what's goin' on inside o' the heads o' these here suicide bombers an' also the puppetmasters who put 'em up to it. The puppetmasters is easier t' figger out on accounta them suicide bombers is willin' martyrs fer their cause an' human weapons. It's the bombers themselves that I can't figger out.

When we hear about these here suicide bombers (yeow! let's call 'em SB's. I'm gettin' tired o' typin' .) Anyway, when we hear 'bout these here SB sumbitches, I reckon most folks jest think they gotta screw loose an' that's what makes 'em willin' to blow up their own selfs an' kill a bunch o' innocent civvies at the selfsame time. Mebbe they do have screws loose but, dang it, they're organized an' crafty sumbitches an' they do their killin' in the name o' sumpin'.

Like ol' BillyBoy Shakespeare sed, there's too much method fer it all t' be madness. (Well, sorta like Billy sed.)

Now, since I ain't king o' the world or president o' the USA, I don't have me a army o' eggheads an' psy-ops special forces or a trillion dollar budget fer fightin' terrism. If I did have them things, I'd try figgerin' out what's goin' on inside the heads o' these SB's. I reckon that might be the onliest way t' stop 'em.

One thing I figger is you can't stop these sumbitches with war. Leastwise, not any sorta war like's been fought before. When the Merkins try bombin' 'em back, they kill a buncha civvies, themselves, an' that makes fer pissed off people who might jest strap on a few sticks o' dynamite.

It ain't possible t' stop 4 fanatic SB's or 18 or 50. An' we know an' they know it only takes 1 SB t' blow up a whole buncha folks inside a train or a bus or a restaurant or a school. One fanatic SB can always get through somewhere. No amount o' police or metal detectors or fingerprintin' businessmen at the airport can stop that one fanatic from killin' a buncha folks. Sure, they might stop sum of 'em but there ain't no way fer police or the army t' stop all of 'em.

Alls I can see is tryin' to cut down on the number o' people willin' t' be SB's. I ain't sure how on accounta not havin' all them things I sed but if we're gonna win this here War on Terror, I reckon the onliest way is t' keep the bad guys from findin' so many willin' recruits who's willin' not t' jest fight but t' strap on the bombs an' die. It'd be a good thing, sez I, if there was sum big peace marches in places like Tehran an' Cairo an' Baghdad an' Damascus an' Yemen an' Kuwait. In them peace marches, it'd be good t' see a buncha youngsters chantin' "Hell no. We won't go."

That brings t' mind ol' Buffy St. Marie's song. "He's the universal soldier and he really is to blame..." With the uselessness o' tryin' t' fight these here terrists usin' conventional weapons, I gotta ask how addin' more fuel t' the flames is helpin'. We gotta nip terrism in the bud an' that's sumpin' that takes a different kinda warfare than guns an' bombs.

If the terrists can't find enuff new blood, they ain't gonna win. I reckon the best way t' stop 'em from gettin' new blood is fer the good guys t' get t' the youngsters first an' win 'em over t' the Peace, Love an' Unnerstandin' side. That's the side we're on, ain't it?

Yores trooly,
JimBobby