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

Prehenisile Genitalia

Speaking of being able to climb a tree using my penis, I think it's time we addressed the next stage of evolution. I realize you may not, in fact, have been talking about using your nuts to kneed dough, or peel apples, but I think it's time the matter was resolved.

There are several reasons I believe that we will eventually be able to manipulate objects using only our one eyed monster. The first, and most important reason, is that thus-far they are the only system we can survive without. If by a freak agricultural accident you were to lose your cherries and stem, you'd still be able to bring in the herd for a nice rest on a bed of hay in a large red barn that will become covered in snow, and will look quite charming by sunset, but only in winter, because barns in summer smell terrible. Anyways. I think its time we adapted our skin-tone sledgehammers to more intelligent and progressive means.

Tree climbing. It's time we take back the forests from all the women lumberjacks. What better way than to swing tree to tree with your man-lasso? You could be a modern day tarzan if only you could somehow engineer yourself a prehensile vag-blaster.

Juggling. Imagine, if you will, how impressive you could be juggling chainsaws using not only your hands, but with your double-pump supersoaker. If you're not excited already, you're not imagining it properly

House painting. You could easily use your below-the-belt giraffe to hold a roller and use your hands to read a nice book while you cheer up that drab decor.

High-fives. When our single banana fruit salads evolve we'll be able to lay down some skin without using our hands. Swordfighting will be the new high-five, and cockslapping will be a congratulatory term.

On the Enviroment

I attended a lecture earlier this year at Uvic, by a famous enviromental journalist that is one of the Uvic alumni. He arrived a little bit late, but that could be understood because he travels on his pedal bicycle. He gave us a rundown of many of the enviromental problems afflicting our country today. He is of the Suzuki class of enviromentalists; which means he is a person that loses sleep at night over the current state of the enviroment. This kind-hearted man has dedicated his life to delivering the scientific facts concerning the state of the enviroment to the public. His aim, is to create a better Canada for many generations to come: As soon as he remembers this thought, he is able to fall asleep at night.
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This man was very encouraging to the room full of wide-eyed students that hoped one day to be journalists themselves. He told the room that there has never been a better time to be an enviromental journalist. Back in the late 1990's, it was very tough for him to sell his articles. Nowadays, there is always some magazine ready to buy articles written by enviromental journalists.

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But who are these people that we entrust to deliver us our science? Why do we go to a journalist to learn about science, rather than the scientist? Wouldn't it be more proficient to skip out the middle man. The problem of journlists is the same problem that one encounters in the game of telephone that is played in elementary school. The class would be arranged in a cirlce, and a message is started with one person. He whispers it in an ear and the message gets passed around the circle until it comes back to the original creator who barely recognizes the message that he originally uttered. Who are these journalists that we entrust to feed us our knowledge?

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In a 2005 study of American journalists and the American public, both were asked where they stood on the political spectrum. Interestingly enough, journalists varied greatly from the public.

The Graph shows it clearly and irrefutably. Journalists are typically more left wing than the general public (They also apparently have less time on their hands compared to the general public, considering their refusal rates). One must keep in mind that this includes all journalists. This graph does not narrow its focus on the "left-wing hippy-nut-job" field of enviromental journalism.

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Enviromental journalists grow up in left wing enviroments. They live with vegan parents that have the full work of Karl Marx on their bookshelves. At a young age, the become afflicted with David Suzuki syndrome. When they start their research topic on the enviroment, they have already made up their mind on which side they will argue. Now it's just a matter of finding a scientist that has data to prove that global warming is destroying this earth.

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What is needed is a revamp of vegan peoples bookshelves. We must supply all the vegans in north america, with the complete works of Ronald Regan, Malthus and other hardcore conservatives. If we did this, children of Vegans would grow up to argue that global warming is a giant myth, and therefore is not worth worrying about. This would of course have the effect of destroying the field of enviromental journalism; there would be nothing to write about any longer. And then the enviromental journalist that came to my school would be out of a job. A whole sector of scientists and journalists would be out of work. Al Gore would no longer be famous and David Suzuki would become the title of some ancient Japanese myth that we never took the time to learn.

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But maybe arguing to save nature, is enough for most left-wing people. They don't want to experience the vast wilderness of Kanaskis summertimes that includes bears, lakes and forest-ranger dicks. They would rather stay home and Tivo the 'Nature of things': on every sunday at 7pm on CBC.

Kevin Costner Movies: America's New Drug of Choice

With the ever increasing reliance on technology such as TV's and computers, the human mind is now beginning to think virtually. Human beings no longer have to occupy their minds with medial tasks such as collecting fire wood and growing crops. They are capable of spending their free time and moments of enjoyment, in their TV room with family and friends. But who judges whether the movies they watch are healthy for their soul? This essay intends to revert the hypothesis that Kevin Costner movies are 'feel-good' movies.

In this study i will focus on two particular Kevin Costner movies to illustrate my point. These are of course 'Field of Dreams' and 'Waterworld'.

People that have seen the movie 'field of Dreams', will testify that it creates a cyclical pattern of emotions. One will feel very happy during parts of the flim; however extreme depression will also be created. Psychologists believe, that Field of Dreams has very small negative effects for children, and that it is more dangerous for adults that are older than 40.

In the movie, several dead baseball players, come back to life. Not only are they able to play baseball again, but they come back to life in their prime. They are young, handsome and athletic. The older viewers will feel very upset about this. They will look back on their life, and realize all of their missed chances and come to a general feeling of disaproval of their own life. They will wish that they too could go back in time, and be the person 'they once were'. One will however get dragged back into the story line, and transfer this immense depression into immense happiness. There are scenes in the movie that were made to be universally agreeable. Meaning that no one, regardless of their age, will be upset about them. Such scenese as the little girl having her life saved and also Kevin Costner remembering to throw the baseball again. This will drag the older people out of their depression for a brief moment, only to throw them into an even more immense state of depression once they get back into their own reality, and out of the fictional Costner reality. It is very clear that Kevin Costner movies are a drug capable of personality change. And what shouldn't you do when you are on drugs? Drive!

However, Kevin Costner had an enormous impact on American accidents, after his film waterworld. Lets look at boating accidents before and after the release of the 1995 movie Waterworld. Keep in mind that it came out during July of 95, so a good portion of the boating season had already taken place.



One finds interesting results. Kevin Costners movie 'Waterworld' actually initially increased the amount of boating deaths for the year 1995. Yet, after 1995, when one has a full boating season to look at the results, the movie Waterwolrd, actually decreased the amount of American boating deaths. How is this possible? Well this is common with the emotional cycles that follow a Kevin Costner movie. Ups and downs. Moments of tender elation vs. moments of vivid sorrow; moments of life vs. moments of death.

In conclusion, Kevin Costner movies are very depressing for people over the age of 40. There are only two types of people that are not effected by these movies. People that are not yet in their prime, or people that are satisfied with life. Otherwise, don't use or abuse Costner.

Sienna Miller-Round 2

I really did not want to bring the cat out of the bag this early, but i have been forced to. I was hoping to save Sienna until round 5 when i would seemingly be fed up with second tier choices and come to a religious revelation that involved Sienna Miller. I will save you all from that light-hearted affair and just skip to the Queen Right now in round 2.

Socrates: But how do you know that your answer is true? Can't all facts be upshot by a better argument. Isn't the only true piece of knowledge that one knows nothing.

Marc: Fuck you socrates!

Sienna wooed me in the original romance-comedy Alfie. She played the darling Nickie, that while being physically babe-alicious, proves to be enormously fucked in the head. Fortunately for the male viewer that got dragged to this movie by their girlfriend (or in my case my Mom), Sienna Miller takes her top off while painting the house, and then proceeds to host the most entertaining cook show I have ever seen.

Years later, she would again take our hearts away as the sexy girl that Daniel Craig almost got to spend the rest of his life with, if the writers of 'Layer Cake' weren't trying to be needlessly dramatic. What an ending! One should definitely watch the alternative ending, if one gets a chance.

Sienna. You are my new number 1. Congratulations!

Mustache Diaries

Day 1.

The covering is a light fuzz, similar to a newly Brazilian waxed chick, or small fruit from the okanagan. Light breezes ruffle the beginnings of my mustache like the sweet caress of an escort; calming yet irresponsible. The hair is lightly colored, soft and useless. Only time will tell whether or not this humble beginning will result in a mustache to conquer the world of facial hair.

Day 2.

Progress has been made. The general outline is Stalin like, and I am in fact highly motivated to force millions of russians to move to siberia and eat polar bears and each other. The urge is becoming quite strong, and I often have to tie myself to my futon to quench my murderous bloodlust for the russian people. Only time will tell whether or not this misplaced rage for the russian people of the late 40's will abate or subside with time.

Day 3.

The darker hairs have started coming in. My mustache has progressed from a light frosting to a medium gravy covered mess, dark and brooding yet uneven and chunky, like Robert Deniro. I trimmed it lightly with a pair of small scissors, and came close to literally blowing a load in my pants. Grooming the start of a mustache is much more fulfilling than killing russians, and I may consider this personal hygiene activity an alternative to genocide. Only time will tell whether or not mustache trimming will truly replace my building desire to enslave the russian people to do my bidding.

Day 4.

I have, for the first time, had to flick rice from the mustache. Unfortunately, the general shape of the french mustache is emerging. Untidy and prone to surrender, this mustache will soon throw the reigns of nazi oppression off it's cheese-laden shoulders and bear the full burden of it's cultural significance. Never before has a mustache looked so dirty, yet so simultaneously beautiful. For several brief moments I considered shaving off this monstrosity, but alas, the mustache prevailed. It's almost as if the hairs have developed primitive intelligence, like the vines in Jumanji. Slowly they will start developing red flowers to shoot poisonous darts at my enemies, and later, my house will be flooded and a black cop's car will become invaded by monkeys until Robin Williams fights a lion and completes the last good performance of his career. Only time will tell whether or not Robin Williams can salvage his career.

Day 5.

FUCK THIS BULLSHIT, FUCK THIS MUSTACHE, I'M SHAVING THIS FUCKING SHITRAG OFF

Day 6.

A small gust of wind tickles the mustache hairs as the mind control drugs secreted by the hairs slowly leach into my brain, motivating me to enslave and destroy the russian people once and for all. I will create a dream society where supply and demand vanish and the common man is hunted for sport when he refuses to help his neighbors. TOD NACH RUSSLAND, Rußland, zerstöre ich Sie!

Olivia Wilde: The Hotness Factor: Round 1

Alright, this is round 1 of a new segment that I have started advertising about, on another one of my many (2) blogs. Olivia first wooed us back in Grade 12, as the sexy Alex that made out with Misha Barton before Micha's tragic automobile-death-accident in the hands of Antoin Volchenkov and Danny Heatley. She pushed the boundaries of television with the first lesbian kiss on that show. Now she stars as the sexy number 13 in the television show "House." I don't think I'll ever get sick and tired of House poking fun at Olivia's wild and majestic beauty. I give her an 8.6 on the hottness scale. And i am considering bumping her to a 9 if the writers of house make her have a lesbian kiss with Cameron. Maybe we can make that part of the Writers Strike Settlement.

Everything that's wrong with Canada

This will not be an easy list to compile. However i will strive to finish it over the next week. One should keep in mind my current conception that time is not linear but cyclical. That all the planets will one day align themselves before us the exact same way they are currently aligned, and that in that instant i will be sitting at this computer again, writing these words for you.

Firstly, the weather. In some months it is too cold to go for walks without wearing several jackets and a heavy sweater. And even when you go about doing this, you still have to suffer with a runny nose. Someone might even slip on some ice and sprain an ankle. It's very discomforting.

Secondly, weed is illegal. It definitely should be legal.

Thirdly, we don't have as many good burger places as the US does. They have Karls Jr, Sonic and WhiteCastle. Sure we have McDonalds and BK. But is that enough?

Fourthly, we don't have icees (pronounced: I'sees). At american gas stations it is common to have both slurpees and icees. Icees start to foam and fill up the cup upon pouring, much like the foam head of a beer. They're pretty good. Although i think i still like slurpees more.

Fifthly, we don't have the nationalism and patriotism of the US. They all know the words to several different nationalistic anthems and chants. They all proudly salute the flag upon every opportunity. Once a year they get together and have enormous BBQ's in celebration of the founding fathers. And because they have all this love for their country, they believe they are always right and their values represent some international truth. Much like a man that is in love with a woman, yet still beats her and mistreats her when she does something wrong; and then he can't find out why she has no confidence left to succeed in life, eventually this woman needs her violent husband more than anything else in this world, because she knows no other way of operating. I wish Canada could go around and shove its nonchalance down the throat of some Middle Eastern Nations. Maybe we should beat the US to the punch and invade Iran. Or maybe we should just be happy that we have enough things to love in our lives, that we don't need to love our country in an obsessive or violent manner. We can love our country for its people, nature and beauty rather than the ideals and concepts it was founded on. Because politics and government is boring. But a a mountainside landscape with spring creeks pouring down into rapid-filled rivers; that is something worth shoving down someone else's throat. Democracy can taste terrible on some tongues, but nature is always a delicious treat.

Plans for a Back Seat Taxi Whore Part 2

Recently i met another Back Seat Taxi Whore. This one was much more interesting. She was of the Ba'hai faith and she is also a poet. I'm in talks with Michael Crichton to help me write the post sometime in the future. Check back for it sometime next week... or maybe later

guerrilla warfare tactic for 'the inevitable Edmonton Invasion'

We Drive to excactly halfway between the cities of Edmonton and Red Deer on the highway that connects the two. At that excact point, we reconstruct the city of Red Deer. All you need to do is reconstruct Gasoline Alley, because that is all you can see of Red Deer from the highway. We then go down to the northern outskirts of actual Red Deer, and try to recreate the northern end of calgary. The day of the inevitable invasion, we set up a large amount of forces on the north end of the city, to prevent the Edmontonians from driving into the actual city of Red Deer, and realizing it's not truly Calgary. While they battle it out on the northern skirts of Red Deer, we go to Edmonton and destroy the heart of the city: Professor Wem's Adventure Mini Golf.
Once we have taken out the professor and his evil ways of dictatorship and capitalism, the Edmontonians will have no choice but to return to their city, and reconstruct a new Proffesor Wem from the rubble. The original Professor Wem's is a marvel of modern Edmontonian culture. Ralph Klein lobbied the United Nations to have it considered one of the 8 Wonders of the World. Constructed over the course of some generations, it stands the fantastic feat of being 18 holes of indoor adventure and glory. Alongside other great models of modern Edmontonian civilization such as an indoor waterslide park and an indoor rollercoaster, Professor Wem's has earned it's reputation as the only major West Edmonton Mall attraction that has not killed anyone; unlike the disastrous roller coaster incident of 72, and the unfortunate drowning incident in the waterpark in 1995.

Uncertainty visualized

Here's that note I wrote I was talking about. I didn't feel like thinking hard enough to write something new.

I was just sitting in bed a moment ago, staring into space when I had a strange sensation... well more of a waking hallucination than anything, a lucid daydream. I had the odd feeling that anyone would recognize, that of a sudden random anxiety, similar to how you feel when you know you've done something horrible and simply cant suppress the memory, but in a vague, full body sort of way.

I tried to think back, had I done anything to lead me down this thought path? The answer was no, I hadn't. Thoughts of events and people drifted through my mind lazily, in that half asleep idle our brain hits when we've been up for nearly 24 hours and haven't quite dozed off. And then the root of the feeling I was experiencing came into focus. I had the sudden sensation that I was on the edge of a circle, two dimensional but living in a complete three dimensional world, a round expanse of blue on an enormous expanse of dull gray. I was standing with my chest thrust out in front of me, in front of the dull universe of my limited dream. Every time I've had this feeling of unrest, this pattern of random confusion yet headstrong direction has been there, I just hadn't realized it until now. Does this imagery connect to anything else?

I haven't really had the feeling lately of some epic event on the horizon, but in this imagery and more and more in my daily life I feel like I'm on the edge of something, literally heart first, as if I'm not even factoring my mind and thought into it. Am I suddenly reckless? Lost? It's a very difficult thing, self analysis, but abstract imagery that reveals too much about inner thoughts is absolutely terrifying. Studying yourself is impossible, in fact there's a phrase I've read about our mind that puts it all together,

Our brain is the most complicated thing in our known universe, and yet our brain can never understand itself

So does this mean that we'll never understand why we think the way we do? Does this mean that the huge gray field in my minds eye is my own brain? Is that blue circle simply a comfort zone I can throw myself out of? The way I imagined this scene, the circle had a clear divisive line, a border that holds you from the new dimension of depth and time and ties you down in the blue circle of flatness and circular repetition. If that line was gone, I could simply fall into my own head and either be forever granted with the key to my own mind, or in my own optimism, I may have ignored the color of this third dimension. Would I be leaping into a shabby prison, where the mystery of my own thoughts is gone?

I mean really, what's more intoxicating than complete understanding? Would we even exist as a race if we were capable of understanding ourselves, or would we simply sit in one place, lost in the ecstasy of uninhibited thought?

Plan for the inevitable Edmonton invasion

Edmonton not only should invade Calgary, but I predict it will happen by the end of 2008. The questions that need to be answered are:

• Which parts of the city should we sacrifice as human shields?
• How can we protect the only good part of the city (the south)?
• Should we even bother stopping Edmonton from destroying the north?

So, basically, any part of the north is either total garbage, or full of stupid rich douchebags who will make ideal human shields due to the strong and expensive fabric their suits and evening gowns are made out of. The poor people who flee to the south for salvation will be used as missiles in our catapults. Thus we should ignore the invasion of Calgary until it reaches the bow river, and we can even build a wall out of all the dead bodies we'll collect from forest lawn. It's a well known fact that Asians build the best walls, so we should enlist the aid of china town in the great-bow-river-anti-edmonton-and-poor-people wall.

As for strategy, after the wall is built, we can cut their ranks down with guerrilla tactics, like poisoning their food and exploding their women. Edmontonians are for the most part... retarded, so it should be an easy battle. We'll load all the forest lawn people into the catapults and have a war of attrition (to quote Marc) until there's so few of them we can take battleships across the Bow and open fire with guns that shoot 100 dollar bills and flaming oil.

To answer the third question, no, we should not.

Now the main reason I think Edmonton should destroy exactly half of Calgary is so I never have to wait in line again for a bar, and so I dont have to be worried about getting shot in the chest whenever I walk around Downtown. We all know the crips and the bloods come from north calgary. This city needs exactly 500000 less people

SO: invade us edmonton with your flame tanks and ultralisks

The Olsen Twins, and how we can conserve them in their natural habitat.

The Spotted Olsen is a rare and industrious animal, who until this time has gone largely ignored by biologists and zoologists. This odd creature frequently travels in pairs, with an almost uncanny resemblance to other members of its species. Several zoologists have remarked that it is almost impossible to determine one Spotted Olsen from the other.

In recent study of the Spotted Olsen's behavior, scientists have observed that the Olsens bushy coat becomes much thicker in response to the cold winter months. Thickly furred, the Spotted Olsen is a formidable prey to the inhabitants of their natural habitat, namely 40 year old school teachers and 50 year old men who observed them in the "full house" ecosystem in the species early evolution. As a defense against these predators, the Spotted Olsen is known to lay motionless on its back and wake up several hours later with a coke hangover and the number to an abortion clinic. This has proven an effective defense, as the constant challenging has toughened the skin of the Spotted Olsen to an orange, fake tan-like consistency, capable of stopping damaging jets of liquid and small arms fire.

Conserving the Spotted Olsen is a difficult challenge. This species has proved most difficult to observe, and is most often sighted in small niches, such as Motels and Bathroom Stalls. Naturally, with more observation and understanding, we may begin to comprehend the complicated lifestyle of the Spotted Olsen. Indeed, scientists have found that the Spotted Olsen is very susceptible to a human designed compound known as "peach schnapps" and will almost always result in complete shedding of this animals multicolored and often thick coat. As this species ages, we can only remark upon their incredible mating habits and odd behavior, and pray that through understanding we may someday rescue this species from the brink of extinction.

Back Seat Taxi Whore

One day this past summer i was going home from a party in a taxi. It was some other girls taxi, but i hopped on board looking to get away from this party and back to my home to get some sleep before work the next morning. I promised to bring her to a convenience store with an ATM so that she could get some money to pay the taxi driver with. I brought her to the Mac's close to my house and she commenced to withdraw cash from the ATM. I went inside with her and after a short visit with the store owner Aurora, i told my female taxi companion that I lived close by, and that i would just walk home from there. "Do you want me to pay for some of the taxi" I asked her. "No" she replied. "Well Thanks a lot" i said back. I then left and went home to the comfort of my bed. But to this day i still regret not giving this girl a little bit of money for the taxi. What if she spent all her weekly allowance on cab-fare home. I'm such a selfish dick. I can not believe myself. If i ever meet this girl again, i would like to buy her coffee and a muffin, just to show my gratitude for her kind soul. Not as repayment. But just as a random act of kindness.

I was so drunk and baked that night, that i don't remember what she even looks like. Neither does she likely remember my handsome face... actually, she probably does; she probably dreams of it every night before she goes to bed. Those dreams were first erotic, but now they have turned to nightmares. Nightmares of me as a homeless bum mugging her in the downtown streets of calgary. "Any change, my darling" I call out. "Hey, do you remember me" she asks. "No, who the fuck are you." She gets shocked and offended, looking away in disgust she tries to leave me to my panhandling. "Give me your purse lady" I shout out. I run up to her and try to snatch it out of her arms. She at first refuses to relinquish the tight grasp on her purse, but soon she realizes my strength and endless desire for her money. Not just any money, but the money that she had been working for and saving all summer long. It gave me pleasure knowing that i was stealing this particular girls money. Far more pleasure than if some businessman with his windsor knot and polished shoes wrote me a cheque for ten-thousand dollars and put it in my hat. yes, this girls money was much more valuable to me. This is exciting, exhilirating and maybe even a little erotic. Because afterall, this is only a dream. A nightmare this poor girl is having, based on erotic dreams that she had a few months earlier.

I take the purse to an ATM far away from my crime scene. I look for her credit cards; she has two of them. I max both of them out. "Best two thousand dollars I have ever made" I tell myself.

Hookers as a cure for aids, also things I need at christmas

Using hookers as a research tool is the only simple way to cure AIDS. What we need to do is get as many hookers (preferably ugly hookers) and isolate them along with as many male aids patients as we can find. Eventually genetics and evolution should prevail, and the cure for aids will be found on this isolated hooker island (preferably in japan, for legal reasons and their openness to weird sex). Give it 5 generations and we'll have a super-human AIDS resistant kid that we can clone and harvest like a ripe bell pepper full of antibodies. I was just reading something about a university of texas professor who supports killing off 90% of the worlds population with ebola who may be able to help us. Note to self.

- A nice toque, nitted possibly
- A zippo, with my name on it or something. Or the Daft Punk logo
- An iPod to replace the one that started exploding this summer
- My traffic tickets paid

Recently me and my friend Carly have started plans to open a student-to-artist transitional gallery in calgary, and the main thing I want for christmas is 20 grande and a government license.

-any amount of books by ernest hemingway
-a good dictionary and thesauras. the dictionary should preferably be hardcover.
-the family minivan
-one of those tim hortons gift cards.
-a rain jacket very similar to the one dad has from MEC. blue or black. or the MEC ferrata hoodie. probably need a large: black. think about ordering it online. won't take very long to deliver. i dont mind if it comes late.
-Tea... delicious varieties of tea.
-Rum
-A nice lighter, but not too nice because i will lose it very quickly.

Discrepancy in Asian and White Prostitute Prices

In Canada, it is common to pay a white prostitute 200 dollars for one hour. It is my assumption that these women were once bright eyed young girls with the dream of being pornstars. Through years of failed auditions and starring roles in second tier porn films always involving gangbangs and anal, they have switched to a more lucrative role. Many white collared office workers would have a tough time accumulating as much money as some of these hard working women. Hopefully the girls are smart enough to save money, because once they reach the age of 32 they will no longer be desirable sexually, and will likely have a tough time giving it away for free. But age isn't the main worry of these prostitutes. It's often the chinese girls that are willing to do the job for much less.
Asian prostitutes are often business saavy lonely girls without much english language skills that have a very difficult time making friends in this foreign country. They surround themselves with other Asian people, and end up living in Canada but speaking their own language and rarely conversing with the scary white inhabitants of this native land. They advertise their services as "Asian Massage" and charge 100 dollars for an hour. Because of their poor language skills, you can talk as dirty as you want to them, because they have no idea what you are saying. When they utter Chinese phrases to you, it is best to just nod your head in agreeance; it makes them feel more comfortable that way.
We have to stop these Asians from undercutting their white competition. These Asian girls have not yet realized that when they reach the age of 32, they will no longer be able to provide a service to any able-sighted man. White prostitutes are being put out of business, unable to afford their upscale luxury condos, having to settle for single bedroom bungalos in undesirable parts of the city. And that's just not fair.