Special good times

This is a little late.

I was watching the special olympics a while back and was extremely disappointed. Where have all the Down syndrome athletes gone?

I want to see some big foreheads running down a track with drool flowing from their mouths. I want to see some actually challenged people at the special Olympics. I don't want to hear about the latest in artificial limb technology. I want retards wobbling down a course knocking each other over. Then I want to hear a speech. One that I can barely understand, because the gold medalist can't speak well.

I got sick of hearing how the special athlete was two seconds off the regular Olympic qualifying time. There's nothing special about that. Those athletes have better lives than me.

Back again to rid the world of evil

Dung Beetle Guy here.

I've been moping around my new apartment. I haven't been able to leave the house in some time. I read a comic about the death of Superman. I was afraid. If he can get defeated, I probably could. Then I realized what he didn't have. Sure ice breath, heat vision, flight capability, super strength, super speed and super good looks are all fine and dandy, but where was his bat-o-rang. I guess he would call it a super-o-rang.

Anyway, I finally got it. My Dung-o-rang arrived yesterday in the mail. I had to file some forms with the World Superhero Federation, but everything checked out and I'm back on the streets. I'm no longer afraid of a Doomsday attacking North Battleford. I'm ready.

Evil doers beware. Dung Beetle's back.

My new hobby

I've been too busy to keep the posts coming. I have a new pass time. A fun way to spend those boring afternoons.

Yep during my down time, you'll find me at the community hockey rink. They call it the Civic Centre. I am the new referee criticiser. Right now I'm still working in the lower ranks. You know novice, pee wee, and for the first time today Bantam tier II. I'm getting pretty good. My heckling is starting to get on their nerves. You can tell. They get all pissed off and flustered. I even got an evil glare from one of the linesmen.

I can't wait. Soon I'll be up at the level of Sheldon. He's the man basher at the North Star games. Is he ever good. All his "open your eyes up ref," and "do you need glasses." His delivery is flawless. His timing impeccable.

He's my hero. You go Sheldon.

Procrastination Is Sexy

It's been over three long weeks. You've been watching reruns of Nash Bridges to pass the time. But your waiting has paid off, because tonight is the FINAL tribal council! After careful deliberations, I've chosen a few exemplary people to sit on the jury. And they hold a man's life in their hand, for whoever loses will be burning in hell as my personal sex toy. It all happens now, on Macguyver! Survivor.

Well, this is it, Ross. Are you prepared to die?

No! I want to go home! I don't care about this blog; I never did! No one does!

Don't make me kill you before Jeff does.

They begin their final march. A solemn tone fills the air. Their faces are impossibly grave. And frankly, this is kind of boring, so here's some musical accompaniment from William Shatner.

Ross!
And Joel.
One lives!
One... dies.
What is the news?
The... revolution of youth.
The tiger's eye,
A thrilling fight.
SURVIVORRRRRRRR!!!

I think this is the place.

HEY!

Dane! What the fuck?

What the hell is going on?!

Well, we weren't able to decide who would stay on the blog, so we - he he - cut a "Probstian" deal.

...

...

Oh c'mon! Don't you assholes read?

Oh, we got it. It was just really stupid.

That's it, get in there!

Hey, what are you doing? Don't shove me in first! Aagh!

Joel, this is fucking stupid.

Shhh! Jeff Probst will hear you!

Oh, fuck Jeff Probst! Fuck him right in the ear!

Ah, shit. Sorry Dane, but this is for your own good. Hey, come play with the kitty!


KITTY!

Waaaaagh!

*sniff* Kitty go bye.

Get your ass in here!

Whoops, in I go. Hey Famira! You're on the jury?

That I am. Didn't have anything better to do.

Hey.

Hmmmph.

Steve Smith? Heather Wallace?! Did Probst raid our pathetic link list for jury members? Christ, that's really fucking... um... cool!

Why the hell I am here? I don't care about you stupid assholes! I was out enjoying myself when I found myself here! I didn't agree to this at all! Fuck you!

Same here, but I don't particularly mind; as a Canadian citizen this is probably the closest I'm ever going to get to being on Survivor. This has now taken on a whole new level of tragedy.

Sooo... when are we getting this thing underway?

Uh, it actually started an hour ago. Jeff Probst has been waxing poetic into the camera since.

Oh, the tumultuous period of my youth! How could Anna forgive me? How could I forgive myself? The infinite struggle of mankind! Their veins flow with the blood of warriors!

Whoa.

Yeah, the camera isn't even plugged in.

Sigh... <3

The castaways have arrived. The final two are here! First, the members of the jury shall address them.

I hate you! I want both of you to die! Die from massive gallstones!

What the hell happened to my boyfriend, anyway? Is Dane still taking a shit?

Before I make my decision, you must tell me this: Did either of you happen to steal any shoes?

... Dramatic! Now both Ross and Joel will stand in turn and make their plea to the jury.

Hey... um... I'm Ross, and I have a problem.

Hi, Ross!

You should, uh, vote for me because I really don't wanna die. At least not until the Flames win the Stanley Cup again.

Pffft! Seeing as you're not immortal, that's not likely to happen.

Hey, fuck you! Fuck you and your stupid Oilers, too!

Ahem. Now that Ross has alienated the jury, let me add my two cents. I have played the game fairly, and I deserve to win. Also, Ross has herpes.

WHAT?! How did you know... I mean, that's a lie! LIE!

Bwa ha ha ha! Okay, it's time for the jury to make their decision. Each of them will take their turn at the Sorting Hat and cast their vote.

What are you talking about? This is the final council! The jury members announce their vote!

And the Sorting Hat is from Harry Potter! And it doesn't take votes! This is wrong on so many levels.

ENOUGH! YOU DARE TO QUESTION ME?

Seriously, guys; don't fuck with Jeff Probst.

And so, the deadliest game continues! Tune in next time for the exciting conclusion! Now who wants ice cream?