Woman has nipple ring removed by pliers, is unhappy

I recently watched a news article about an obese Ontarian who wanted nothing more than to fly, but because of her large (and I presume, really gross) nipple rings, she was detained. And by detained, I mean they yelled at her and laughed at her while she reached into her shirt and attempted to take them off. Alas, being unable to remove them, a male security guard used pliars to remove them.

As an advocate of nipples in general, this is disturbing to me. Nothing is as beautiful as a nipple. If Monet and Picasso had had a plentiful source of nipples and weren't bound by society's nipple-fear, I'm sure the MOMA and guggenheim would be full of abstract or impressionist nipples. Nipples in multiple colors, nipples with odd brush strokes, nipples made of marble and bronze. A nippleopolis of epic proportions. In fact I propose a national nipple appreciation day, to start on the first day of winter, when the cold winds will ensure that all nipples stand at proud attention. Male and female nipples will co-exist in firm harmony for a day, and perhaps through this symbol of nipple solidarity the barriers of sexism will fall, like a nipplevalanche, or perhaps a nippleplosion.

Nipple nipple nipple.

Ghost story.

I have one ghost story. Just one. But it's totally awesome, and I realized recently that I haven't told it enough.

It starts on a chilly night in October. The year was 2002, and I was fifteen years of age, just coming into my own. But it was not to last. Here is a story of such terror and scariness that your pants will wet themselves.

Jason, Karen, and myself (names changed to preserve their sanity) were all sitting in the petland staff room, enjoying a nice dixie cup of coke and a nice dixie plate of pizza, when our co-worker dropped a bombshell. She stood up, and declared, in a voice both haunting and slutty, that she knew of a haunted house we should check out after the staff meeting. Being fifteen, and surrounded by 17 year-olds who for reasons of youth I thought were totally rad, I agreed to come along. Also we went to wendy's.

So there we were, 3 of us packed into her small sunfire, her smoking, jay getting stoned, me eating chicken and getting stoned and smoking, and all three of us soaring towards our imminent destruction via ghost. Down the snowy roads we travelled at speeds in excess of 60km/h, until we reached our destination. Those of you from the woodlands/far SW of calgary will be familiar with which I speak: I speak of the one lane bridge that used to go over fish creek at the bottom of the valley, which has since been replaced by a modern overpass high above the mysterious trees of the dreaded fish creek provincial park, and the terror of the Tsu-tina native reserve. This bridge was only wide enough to let one car through, but there was one thing about that bridge that was even scarier: a tiny little road, barely more than a path, bordered by a fence made of what appeared to be human skulls, but were in fact chunks of white rock stacked to form a little barrier. I drove past this numerous times, always curious as to what lay beyond that grim sentinel. Alas, that night I would find out what was hidden down that dark path.

The sunfire creaked and moaned as it traversed the rutted and overgrown trail, as if protesting the coming destruction that awaited us all. It's 1.4 litre engine quaked and fidgeted under the throttle, urging us to go back. But three stoned teenagers are a force to be reckoned with, and onwards we went. We drove for what seemed like hours, the road wouldn't let us over 10KM/H, and we went so far that soon the lights of the metropolis of woodbine were far in the distance. We had long since left the borders of calgary and had crossed over into the mysterious lysol scented forest of the reserve. Dark trees, with dark limbs and roots beckoned us onwards, until we reached our final destination, innocuous but horrible, innocent but terrifying.

We had arrived in a clearing, about the size of a cul-de-sac, bordered on all sides by lichen covered pine trees and poplar leaf covered poplar trees. It was a normal looking field, dead leaves and dead grass, some rocks, and an abandoned farm house. This, as Karen or whatever the fuck name I made up to protect Melissa's privacy had told us earlier, was the haunted house. The story goes, this place used to belong to a farmer who emigrated here at the turn of the century. He farmed happily for 40 years until one fateful night his stove had a gas leak, and destroyed the back half of the house, killing his wife and 14 year old daughter. As we piled out of the car, our fates in our hands...

TO BE CONTINUED

Great Depression Round 2

Earlier this week, the Toronto Sun published an article by a second tier (non-blogger) journalist, about the possibility of another Great Depression. Linda Leatherman presented an interesting article identifying recent trends in economics, and relating these events to events that happeneed leading up to the Great Depression.

I have heard a lot of crazy conspiracy theories lately. In my hostel it seems every hippy is well equipped with 2 or 3 unique conspiraces. That is why hippies are interesrting to talk with, they never have commonplace ideas, they always try to take the craziest point of view that society will allow them.

But whats separates Lisa Leathermans views from crazy hippy views? Why does Lisa Leatherman get published by the Toronto Star, yet these hippies clean toilets in the hostel for 24 hours a day (seriously).

I don't know. But i do know that i would love for the Great Depression to take Place. Everyone would be mumbling and crying over lost money and think that their way of life had been destroyed. While i would be fine because i have no money or family or mortgages. So if the Great Deporeession reads my blog, i would encourage he or she to come soon, and not way for several years and make my life difficult.

thank you. And I'm sorry that all of our history textbooks have painted you to be such an evil being.

800 pound man tries to go on date... and fails

Two years ago Manuel Uribe was over 1200 pounds. Since then, he has lost an amazing 400 pounds. March 10th was Manuel's Girlfriends birthday. To celebrate, Manuel decided to celebrate and deviate from his diet a little. "We were going to celebrate that I've been losing weight for two years ... and fulfill my dream of taking my girlfriend out to eat."

Like any good male, Manuel had the date all planned out. But not just in the sense of the typical flowers or chocolates; Manuel had many other resources to fulffill. Firstly, he needed a forklift and a flatbed rig to get him to the date. At first everything was going well. Manuel was set to meet his date at a picnic in the city of Monterrey, California. His bed, with him in it, was placed on the back of the rig and he was set to make it there on time.

(One might be guessing that this article is leading up to a "wide load" joke. ) However, it was not the "wide load" that prevented Manuel from getting to his date, it was a height restriction. Unfortunately, the frame of his bed (why didn't you take the frame off Manuel?) hit an overpass about halfway to the date. Manuel escaped without any injuries, but doctors concluded that his blood pressure was too high to go on the date. Fortunately for Manuel, 12 news reporters were there to capture this event. Thus, providing people across America, as well as Manuel's date, for the reason behind not showing up. It's always good to have an excuse.

I have a theory on this. Manuel didn't want to go on the date, and manufactured this story and sold it to newspapers and bloggers across the country, just so his date wouldn't feel bad about his not showing up. Congratulations Manuel, you have joined the club of 'self absorbed males'.

The real question that comes to my mind, is how can Manuel get a date, yet i still can't. Cindy still isn't returning my calls, but that could be because she doesn't exist. I was forty minutes late for a date the other day with Ashleigh Bowers, and the girl ended up being a huge boring-bitch the rest of the way through it. Eliza won't pick up the phone when i call her. The other day i text messaged her and asked if she wanted to hang out at the video arcade on friday night. She didn't get back to me... i guess she's just a lesbian or something. Yet as i write you this article from the computer lab at Uvic, a brownish girl has sat down next to me. Who knows?

The Politics of Cool

Earlier this week, Rolling Stone Magazine announced that they would put Barack Obama on next month's issue. This is the first time that Rolling Stone has ever made a cover story out of a nominee for the leader of a party. In the past, they have made cover stories out of Democratic Presidential candidates. But 'the curse of the rolling stone' proved fatal for both Al Gore and John Kerry. Obama will get his issue now, and it would not be surprising to see him get another cover story, during the weeks leading up to the presidential election this Novemberish. Obama has a knack for capitalizing on crowds that are unable to think for themselves. Earlier in January, he got the free-spirited Oprah Winfrey to tour on his campaign trail, and also appeared on Oprah's show, where she fully endorsed him.

Even the elderly Hillary Clinton is trying to find a way to reach out to crowds that are outside her demographic . Last Saturday she made a small cameo on SNL. Lorne Michaels (el presidente of the show) thought it only fair, because he had Barack Obama on the show back in November.

Get with the times Hillary. SNL is so last november. People of today read rolling stone magazine.

Even with Barack's appeal to all these forms of 'cool' media, the race does not seem to be over. Anybody that has followed the Democratic election (meaning anybody bored out of their mind, who has a full selection of cable channels, yet out of complete disrespect for their own intellectual well-being, decides to watch CNN), has been told several times that election is nearly over. All of January, we were told that Super Tuesday (in early February), would determine the Democratic nominee. When that didn't pan out, CNN told us it would be the next state election. And when that didn't pan out, they said it would be the next one; and this pattern continued for quite a while. Well, there have been numerous state elections, and CNN has been wrong numerous times. But for some reason, i keep tuning in.

This is very reminiscent to the 'kiefer Sutherland effect'. Anybody that has watched the tv show 24, knows that at the end of every episode, there is a delightful cliffhanger and then footage from next weeks show. If you own the dvd's, you have no choice but to watch the next show immediately. If it's on cable television, you book off your next tuesday at 9pm. I fell under the spell of the 'Kiefer Sutherland effect' during my final exams at the end of my second year at Uvic. I awoke in a daze, back in calgary, having done very poorly on many of my exams.

After having been decieved by CNN for so long, it has become clear that the democratic nominee will not be decided in any of these state elections. Rather it will not be determined until the convention in August. This will prolong the Democratic race for quite a while longer, while the Republican race seems to be finalized with McCain. Will the longer battle between Hillary and OBama help the Democrats by providing them with more media? Or will it give McCain the chance to build his Republican profile, while the Democrats are still fighting amonst each other? It's too early to tell. But the moral of the story is, don't let CNN tell you anything, because it's beginning to come clear that CNN is even less reliable then Fox. And at least Fox takes a break from it's political news, to bring you quality television like the Simpsons.




Let me get all the politics out of me. Alberta Media tells Albertans that Stelmach is going to lose. They trash his name and drag it through the dirt. They do this all the way up to the day of the election. Yet in the end, Stelmech comes out with an even bigger majority than Klein got last election. How could the media be so wrong? Isn't the media like science in that it's always right? Was Graham Krenz conducting the polls?

Look at Michael Moore's movie Farenheit 911, which came out the summer before the presidential election in 04. Before the movie came out, the polls showed the democrats were ahead of the republicans in the presidential race. Some claim that the movie Fahrenheit 911, got all the right-wing voters worried, so they turned out in bigger numbers to support Bush. I don't buy that, but i do find it fascinating that Bush somehow won that election, amidst the propaganda film that Moore shoved out at the same time.

Trapped on a desert island - New school bitches

Since before society, when man had just discovered the magic of islands, the question was posed: what the fuck are we gonna do once all the motherfucking boats be sunk? The answers given to that question are both fascinating, boring, completely unrealistic, and lets be honest, not as cool as the answers I'm about to give you. Why are my answers better? Because my first name is Graham and my last name is Krenz and that's all you need to know. Jerk.

Here's what you need to bring to a desert island:

A fleshlight.
Ya. A fake vag. You're on an island, in case you weren't listening. You're surrounded by water, and the only thing you're going to be banging otherwise is a coconut or a dolphin. Now, I may be speaking from experience when I tell you that coconuts are terrible to make love to (not to mention a laxative) but can you imagine nailing a dolphin? They kill sharks. Because they feel like it. Try sticking your sea cucumber in one of those pelagic bitches. So really, your only choice is a fleshlight.

A subscription to National Geographic.
If any bunch of people know things about things, its the people who know things about things who work for national geographic. They strand themselves routinely on islands for fun, much in the same way dolphins take spearing penalties to beat the shit out of sharkfish, which pretty much makes them the authority on surviving island shenanigans. How you will get this delivered to your island is up to you, I'm not a scientist, or a deliveryologist. Maybe you can train jellyfish to bring them to you. Stop being so demanding.

A shitload of weed.
An island. A tropical island. You're already in a reggae video, minus the hot bitches with weird hair and huge asses, so you might as well be stoned for the entire 30 year duration. You can even use a dead dolphin as a bong if you pack the blowhole just right (after you've had sex with it, of course)

A pogo stick.
Spear fishing would be made a lot easier if you could strap a pointy thing to the bottom of the pogo and bounce about in a murderous and I'm sure hungry (and I'm even more sure horny) state of rage. Those little swimming bastards wont know what hit them until you crush their skulls with a battle cry of "WHEEEEEEEEE!". Lets face it, fish are assholes. You'll have no trouble killing as many fish as you have to if your conscience is as wrecked as mine is (due to Nelly Furtado's shift from pretty Canadian princess to Timbalands blowjob-monkey) and they're high in protein to boot.

That's all you need! And for added fun, get stoned, tie the fleshlight to the pogo stick, and bounce around getting off to the tribal ladies in national geographic. You'll forget you're on an island at all!

Finally...Enviromentalists that I agree with

Early this morning, Enviromental Terrorists in Seattle set fire to three newly designed luxury homes. The terrorists were apparently upset over the fact that these newly designed homes were not enviromentally friendly. On a sign written in spray paint (the universal writing utensil of terrorists), the initials ELF were written. Most suspect it to be the work of the Enviromental Liberation Front, but one should not jump to logical conclusions so quickly; at least not before reading this blog.

The newly built houses, were not yet occupied by the tenants. The street itself was named "the street of dreams". This might remind some of an earlier post on Kevin Costner and the movie 'field of Dreams'; but so far it does not look like Costner is behind this particular assault of America. Each home cost over a million dollars and included some of the most technologically efficient ways of energization. Then why would eco terrorists destroy enviromentally friendly homes? Apparently, they were upset over the endangerment of chinook salmons in the nearby streams.

In other enviromental news, today at the university of Victoria, we were privileged to have the world renound David Suzuki give a free speech. He likely talked about pressing issues facing the current state of the enviroment. It is likely that none of these issues will make it beyond the world renound newspaper of the University of Victoria. However, the enviromental terrorists will likely be in newspapers across the country tomorow. The terrorists means of obtaining media attention are far more radical than that of the elderly Japanese Suzuki (the most radical thing he has done all day is use his cane to get to his enviromentally friendly rice cooker).

The problem I have with David Suzuki, is that he claims that the enviroment is growing rapidly worse every day. He takes the "Day After Tomorow Hypothesis", that things will get out of hand very quickly if we don't act immediately. If this is truly the case, then why is
Suzuki kindly lecturing at Universities and hosting a TV show for viewers of all ages on public network television? If it is true that the enviroment needs radical change today, then shouldn't his means of distributing this information be equally as radical?

Obviously the eco-terrorists that are burning down houses are afflicted with David Suzuki Syndrome. Constantly losing sleep over the torrential terror that awaits us on "the day after tomorow." Unlike Suzuki, they are acting radically to get radical change, which they believe is needed. If you want radical change you must act radically. Suzuki has it all wrong. His quiet, kind and laid-back manner make it seem that we can wait a few days before we implement change, even if he is preaching the opposite.

My prescription for David Suzuki: either tone down your message of impending doom, or join the ELF.

Graham and Adam do salvia!

First things first. I need to buy some filters. If you've ever had burning incense blown into your lungs you'll understand what I mean. Secondly, hmmm. hmmmm. We planned it badly, in the sense that we were in the least relaxed place ever: a public school playground at 1AM. Using a pipe with about a litre of THC in it. In winter. Without a torch lighter. Or a spotter.

First instantaneous effects: constricting of all my muscles simultaneously and the intense desire to sit down, followed by instant memory loss for about 20 seconds, followed by this odd feeling that gravity moved off a bit and my head was shrinking. I had to sober up fast because Adam did a lot more than I did and he was being silly. Heading off a hallucination was tricky, but I think since I only did 1 hit I wasn't over the edge.

Adam however, did some awesome stuff, as these choice quotes (in chronological order) will reveal.

"ya I guess we have to smok- I'm climbing a mountain"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... HAHAHAHAHAH"
"I wanna run man. I was born to run. Lets go on the playground"
"Everything I'm thinking is impossible"
"Why is it so damn hot"
"It's hot in the car. Really hot. My legs feel itchy like spiders"
"Everything was really happy!"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"

And then BAM sober mid sentence. It was truly insane to witness, truly awesome, it's rare that watching someone do a drug makes you want to do it, but in this case, yes. For the third time I try it out I'm going to go hardcore and do as many hits as I can take.

I just realized I'm incredibly sweaty