Enough already.

It’s time to settle the debate. Is Britney Spears pregnant?
My solution is easy. Let’s send Joel down there to knock her up.
Joel would get the job done. He’s the man. Joel doesn’t take crap. He just goes hard until the job’s done. That’s what the pop princess needs.
She wants a kid, so hire Joel. He’s the stud out to pasture in Rocky Mountain House. Well actually, he’s situated near Leslieville now.
His fee is a measly $10,000 per insemination, but if it doesn’t take by the third time he’ll deliver the fourth for free. It’s never taken him more than two attempts though, and that was some fat ugly chinese lady. Who could blame him?
By purchasing Joel for his services who’ll receive offspring that would have mad computer skills, be able to use and understand big words, always do his/her homework, play video games at an adult level and watch movies (Mr. Show) for hours on end without getting bored.
Once Joel gets busy with Britney, the tabloids would have something new to write about, and they need something new. No one cares about the pregnancy or Justin Timberlake and Diaz, Nick and Jessica or Brad and Jenn. It’s time to move on.
They could write about the new mysterious man in Mrs. Spears life (Joel), what happened to that dancer husband and is that extremely cool friend of Joel’s they call Dane for real, because he seems to good to be true?
Although I have to beg the media to give me a little privacy. I’ll do what I can to accommodate interviews and photo shoots, but I can’t make any promises.

Have it your way. I wish.

When is it time to say enough is enough? How long can one put up with someone else’s garbage before it’s time to call it quits?
I’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman and I still get screwed over. I don’t get what I want or need, and I definitely don’t feel the love.
I’m sad to say it, but maybe this was the final blow that knocked me out. I tried going the distance, but didn’t have any help.
My eyes well up with tears. I’m starting to realize what I must do. I have to take action and not get rolled over anymore.
It’s time to stand up for myself. I’m a good person and don’t need this kind of crap in my life.
It’s time to move on and start anew. I can’t take it anymore.
I’m never going to Burger King ever again. They gave me the nastiest burger again.
Sunday afternoon I ended up at the fastfood joint for a quick lunch before heading to the 41st annual all-native hockey tournament.
My lunch disgusted me. It was drenched in mayo and ketchup. The patty tasted like crap and my fries were cold. I only ate half of the burger. That's how bad it was.
The only good part of the meal was the carbonated coke. It was average.
It happens the same every time. I politely order my food. I pay the tab and I patiently wait.
I get poor treatment and horrible food in return. What did I do to deserve this?
I don’t know, but I’m not going to let it keep happening. This is it, no more Burger King for me.
It’s back to A&W, McDonalds, Dairy Queen and Subway for me. I might even try Taco Time sometime soon.
Side Track: Did you ever wonder if Dairy Queen and Burger King were married?
Anyway, I recommend everyone boycott Burger King and their gross food. Help me take a stand against the terrible fastfood giant.
I can’t do it alone. I need an army. Preferably an army of ninja mummies, but right now I’ll take anyone.

I need a little help

What's the etiquette on guys fighting girls? I know Andy Kaufman didn't have a problem with it. Is it okay to toss a punch back after taking a couple blows. Is it a fair fight where anything goes? Is it still shut up and take it? Can a slap but but not closed fist? Do I have to try and restrain the lady until she calms down?

Don't worry. I'm not going around looking for fights with girls, just old men.

Wouldn't it be nice...

If I was rich, I'd have a band follow me around and play music for me. What ever I felt like they'd play, and since I'm having one of the worst days of my life they'd play this:

Cheer up, Dane. You know what they say.
Some things in life are bad,
They can really make you mad.
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle,
Don't grumble, give a whistle!
And this'll help things turn out for the best...
And...

the music fades into the song

...always look on the bright side of life!
whistle

Always look on the bright side of life...
If life seems jolly rotten,
There's something you've forgotten!
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing,

When you're feeling in the dumps,
Don't be silly chumps,
Just purse your lips and whistle -- that's the thing!
And... always look on the bright side of life...

whistle
Come on!

other start to join in
Always look on the bright side of life...
whistle

For life is quite absurd,
And death's the final word.
You must always face the curtain with a bow!
Forget about your sin -- give the audience a grin,
Enjoy it -- it's the last chance anyhow!

So always look on the bright side of death!
Just before you draw your terminal breath.
Life's a piece of sh*t,
When you look at it.

Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true,
You'll see it's all a show,
Keep 'em laughing as you go.
Just remember that the last laugh is on you!

And always look on the bright side of life...
whistle
Always look on the bright side of life
whistle


It's from Monty Python's Life of Brian for anyone who didn't know. The song always puts a smile on my face even on my worst days.

Rumble in the Keg Room

It was Monday night at the Keg Room. It’s the usual pub my girlfriend and I visit because there’s usually free pool, that was the case on this evening.
The night was going good. I showed up after a late night in the office putting together my sports pages.
I went to the bar grabbed a Kokanee and headed to the pool table where my pretty lady was humiliating Richard, my co-worker.
The night continued on, and around 11 the two drunk, stoner idiots came in. Their goal was to get drunk and score some weed. The usual.
The one likes comic books, so I get along with him okay. But if you mention anything subject requiring thought don’t expect an intelligent reply.
Anyway, Mike the comic book loving guy was sitting at the bar waiting for a beer. It was now around 1:15 in the morning and two guys started talking with Mike at the bar.
I was still watching the pool table and when I looked back at the bar. Mike was sitting on the ground and the two guys were looking at him.
I thought Mike had just fell over. He was pretty damn drunk.
That wasn’t the case. He’d been thrown to the ground.
One of the two guys then said “this is what you get,” and clocked Mike while he was on the floor.
My girlfriend who has been martial arts training for the last two months has been looking for a reason to try her stuff.
She jumped in and had a headlock on one of the guys.
His girlfriend then grabbed her and took her onto the pool table.
The guy, he was wearing an Etnies sweater, said if she didn’t stay out of it he was going to jump in. That’s when I got up.
I came over and told him he better not try anything.
That’s when I expected to get the crap kicked out of me.
He started cursing and yelling at me. “You want a piece. I’m going to kick your ass.” He droned on and on in that macho lingo only hockey players and people with IQ’s less than 75 know.
I was expecting to take at least one punch, but he didn’t do a thing.
My girlfriend laughed at the girl who took her to the table, which infuriated the other lady.
She threw a few punches but didn’t make contact. She did manage to grab a clump of hair.
Other patrons came and jumped in to stop the scuffle.
Now, I’m supposed to watch my back. I not too worried the guy was drunk and according to the bartender hopped up on crack. It was probably the crack she sold them.
It makes me wonder, why Cheers was suck a happy place with no bar fights. Norm could really kick some butt I bet.

Does he have a chance?

I was covering the Skating Club's year-end extravaganza over the weekend. It's a bunch of figure skating. Yippy!
The only thing I could think of was the one chubby kid dressed as a cowboy. I just imagined how bad he must get teased at school. Midway through the program, I nicknamed him Logan. I don't know why.
Poor little guy. Why the hell would his parents put him in figure skating?
I'm cruel. I know.

How's my driving?

If it wasn’t for my inability to drive, I wouldn’t have this near death tale to retell.
I’ll admit it. I’m not the best driver. I’m one of those people that would rather sit in the passenger seat, look out the window and let my mind wander.
On Friday I was travelling to Saskatoon despite weather warnings of poor visibility, gusting winds and slippery roads.
I wasn’t the only one. The roads were littered with slow moving vehicles. Automobiles were tossed in the ditch every ten kilometres, and their was one fatality that evening on the same stretch of road I was taking to reach the big city of Saskatoon population just over 200,000.
My girlfriend and I were getting out of North Battleford for a night.
The trip was a little hectic. I was sliding everywhere and my speedometer didn’t read anything over 80 km/h (50 miles/hour for any American readers).
Ten kilometres out of the city, and I finally found a nice SUV to tail. We were going nice and smooth, when all of the sudden his brake lights flash and he starts slowing down.
I tap my breaks a little to reduce my speed. It doesn’t do much and I’m getting closer and closer to the SUV.
My hands are getting clammy and my knuckles are turning white. I clench my teeth and hope for the best.
I think about changing lanes and look to my side. There’s a semi with a trailer unit zipping past. For whatever reason, he was crossing the dotted line and squashing me over to the side of the road.
Damn truck drivers have to quit drinker on the job.
I’m within a metre of the SUV, when the semi finally gets back in his lane and passes me.
I quickly manage to swerve into the available passing lane, and I’m still alive and now at work.
Yeah.

Honestly, I can handle the truth

Why can’t people admit to the truth? Is it so hard to say yes or no to a question?
Honestly, I’ve always been a fan of honest people. I’d rather feel bad about someone being brutally truthful with me than finding out they were being nice and lying.
This little outburst comes on behalf of Mark McGwire not actually answering the question about his steroid use.
When asked about major league baseball’s drug problem he said “I don’t want to talk about the past.”
Why the hell couldn’t he say yes or no? It’s not a hard question. Even for a baseball player.
Now everyone believes he was a steroid junkie, much like my sugar fix problem, because he didn’t say no.
The consensus is out and now people think he’s shady, manipulative and cowardly because he couldn’t just tell the truth.
Jose Canseco at least confessed. I’ll give him that.
Jose did you use steroids?
Yes.
Simple as that. Nothing too hard about it at all.
Now I just have to work on Joel.
Dane: Joel did you get jiggy with Jermey’s mom?
Joel: I don’t want to talk about the past.

Wow!

I took what I thought was going to be a stupid quiz. The questions seemed ridiculous and the answers were worse. Then when my result came up I've never been so acurately described. Wow!

Your result: On the straight and narrow
Why make trouble? Best just to mind your own business and don't bug people unless they bug you. Well, even if they are bugging you what can you really do about it? You're just trying to do your best and hope someone somewhere will give you a gold star for it.

The quiz is at http://www.cbc.ca/nerve/quizzes

It's the second one.

Digity Dang

Fight! Fight! Fight!

The other day I was heading to the mall to see my girlfriend.
I walked through the doors and past an abandoned shopping on my way to the Elephant Ear.
A old man, 65ish, was right behind me. I held the door open for him.
He also noticed the shopping cart and thought he’d take it.
Big mistake. A voice boomed “what are you doing with my cart?”
I turned around and it was another old guy. He looked furious that someone was snagging his cart.
“Oh, I didn’t know,” replied old man number one. He left the cart and continued on his way.
“There’s plenty carts outside. You can’t just take mine,” said old man number two. He walked to his cart and made sure no one else was going to take it on him.
I really believe that number two leaves an empty cart in the middle of a mall just so he can pick fights with people.
I was really hoping to see two old guys just go at it.
I’m not sure what I’d expect to see; some old-school boxing or a bitch slapping contest until one of them falls over or heart fails.
All the wheezing and gasping. I’d back up number one. I think I could kick the crap out of an old frail guy. Not 100 per cent sure but a solid 46 per cent positive.
Who the hell leaves a cart unattended, with no stuff in it and expects it not to get taken?

Urgg! I'm mad

I noticed a few things that really pissed me off this week, so I thought I’d bitch about them.
Why? Because I’m a whiney bitch and that’s what I do.
First is Sleeman’s beer. Why the hell does it cost as much as an import beer everywhere in North Battleford? It must cost a lot to import it all the way from Canada.
Domestic beer is about a buck cheaper than an import and sometimes I just want a Sleeman’s honey brown. Well not really, but if I ever do I don’t want to pay the import price.
Second is stupid newspaper readers.
I got a call on Tuesday that went like this:
Caller: I just wanted to compliment you on your story about the hockey players playing in Europe.
Me: Well thanks. I’m glad you liked it.
Caller: BUT BITCH BITCH BITCH BITCH.
Me: uh huh, okay, whatever. Have a nice day.
It’s then that you realize it’s some parent wanting their kids picture in the paper.
She wouldn’t give me her name.
Stupid people. They should all be put on an island and we could make a reality show about the demise of all the idiots. There’s no way they’d be smart enough to get off the island.
There could be elimination tests. The person who solves the problem is smart enough to join intelligent people.
I don’t know where the line is drawn for how stupid someone must be to get on the show. I just hope I’m above it.

Won't Get Fooled Again

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Nate Winkleton here with a breaking news report. Reknowned co-writers of the revered blog Super Fun Happy Amazing Hour!!! have threatened to split and go their seperate ways. The aftershocks of this devestating news are still reverberating throughout the global community. The Dow closed after an unprecedented 2000 point drop today, and the TSX took a staggering plunge down towards 1560. Wall Street has been thrown into chaos, with violence exploding on the floor of the NYSE. When asked what the government's response to the economic collapse would be, Prime Minister Martin looked nervously from side to side for five minutes, then suffered a massive stroke. And now here's Sheena Easton with the full story.

Thank you, Nate! The whole affair began two weeks ago when Dane made a post that alluded to Joel's alleged past as an underwear model and a drug runner. Joel stayed quiet before firing a return salvo three days later entitled "Bray Bray Bray", which painted Dane as deranged illiterate pervert with a nasty speech impediment. Tempers simmered for the better part of a week until it all exploded when Dane asserted that Joel wears ladies' socks. Here is some footage from earlier today when the delusional Joel took a senior's computing class hostage. Be warned that it is very graphic.

Ladies' socks? LADIES' SOCKS?! Do these look like ladies' socks to you? Hell, no! They're Macgregors, bitch! I hate him! I hate Dane Lutz! Hey, did I say you could move? Next one of you gives me guff gets two in the chest! Ba-tang! Ba-tang! Git it? Hey, you wanna see something cool? Offa the computer, Gold Bond. Ah ha! Badger badger badger badger mushroom MUSHROOM! Badger badger badger badger mushroom MUSHROOM! Hah! Look at those fuckin' badgers go!

Fortunately, the incident ended without injuries when Joel eventually became bored and wandered off. Back to you, Nate!

Ah yeah. God bless you, sugarlips. Yeah, now harder, faster, more tongue, that's it... Oh! Jesus! Uh... *zip* It hasn't taken long for Dane and Joel's former associates to speak out on this matter. Joining us live via satellite is respected pundit and famed blog auteur Steve Smith, who was the first person to provide a link for Super Fun Happy Amazing Hour. Hi, Steve!

Yeah, um... hi, Nate. Nate, is there any reason why there's the image of a man's crotch on my monitor?

... ! Jenkinson, you bastard! If you're gonna be taping me and Tanya I want a cut of the proceeds, got it? Right, Mr. Smith... Mr. Smith! Hey, you ever been to Washington? *snicker*

Thank you, that's close to the thousandth time I've heard that lame joke. I guess I can die happy knowing that I've talked to a thousand different morons in my life.

Oh. Well, Mr. Smith, your thoughts please.

Ah yes. Super Fun Happy Amazing Hour. You know, in addition to the link I generously provided in my sidebar, I've also mentioned their blog in my posts no less than four times. And sorry to stretch the fourth wall here, but I guess that's what qualifies me for being dragged in to make these degrading appearances. Anyway, given the support I've provided, if they can't keep it together, then to hell with them. I've got a group of cocker spaniel enthusiasts who are quite eager to take over their spot on my hallowed list.

But Mr. Smith! How can you be so nonchalant about this, given the recent economic collapse?

I can, Nate, because although the two events happened almost simultaneously, there is no causal relationship between them. Look, the real reason for that situation is --

Whoa, sorry, running out of time here. Thanks for your thoughts, Steve, and have yourself a good night!

Go fuck yourself, hairpiece.

Huh. Anyway, Sheena Easton took to the streets to ask passerbys about their take on the situation.

Excuse me sir, your thoughts on the imminent break-up of Super Fun Happy Amazing Hour.

Super Fun Happy Amazing Hour? Never heard of it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go back to my meaningless life utterly devoid of any sense of joy.

Good! Have you actually read into their posts? How virulently offensive they are? Dane alone is violently racist, sexist, and homophobic! Their split is a blessing, it truly is. Now that these figureheads of the oppressive patriarchal system are gone, we can rebuild a new society on the ashes of capitalism! One devoted to peace, love, and My Little Pony conventions! God, how I hate the right wing and their preachy "moral values"...

Dang, Dane and Joel, huh? Y'know, this is all that Dane's girlfriend fault. What's her name, Fermara or somethin'? Yep, same thing happened to that band. You know, that real famous one. Huey Lewis and the News. Say, ain't you that chick that sung Conga?

Ah, no. That was Gloria Estefan. I'm Sheena Easton. I mean, I don't see how you can make that mistake. I don't see how anyone can make that mistake! It's not like we look the same, it's not like our songs sound the same. I mean, our last names end in E! That's our only striking similarity! GODDAMNIT, NATE! This is the last time I go out and talk to these braying jackasses!

Uh, Sheena Easton, ladies and gentlemen. Good timing though, as we've just received word of some breaking news. Dane is preparing to personally deliver his official statement about the break-up. Reporting live from the media scrotum is Our Man on the Scene, Trip Inglewood. Trip?

Hi, Nate! It's an absolute frenzy here! All of us are jammed in here with no wiggle room whatsoever. The build-up of pressure is unbelievable, but hopefully when Dane comes there'll be some relief. The air is crackling with --

Out of the way, half-pint.

Who the? Ian Hanomansing? Hey, you finally pulled yourself out from behind that cushy desk?

A word of advice, dickweed; it's scrum, not scrotum. Hack. Now get lost, this is CBC turf.

Yeah, things don't run that way anymore. You've been sittin' cozy in the newsroom for too long, Hanny. Trip runs the show now! You're too soft for this gig, anchorman.

Hmmph. Don't get cocky, little boy. It's funny how easily I could knock you on your ass, punk.

Bring it, you teleprompter-dependent bitch!

Trip! Knock it off, you fool! You're going the attract the attention of --

GRAAAGH! If you're gonna open a can of whoop-ass, you better save a sip for Peter Jennings! Hyahh!

ARRRURRGH

Oh my God! Peter Jennings just decapitated Trip Inglewood!

You're next, Winkleton.

*SMASH* *fzzzt*

He just roundhouse-kicked our setup! Garcia, can you hear me? Damn it, we've lost our audio feed. Oh no, Dane's stepping to the podium! Okay Garcia, if you can hear me, zoom in on Dane's face. I'll try to read his lips.

"Beautiful bastards! My candy anus screams for you! My urine saves lives!"

What the... screw it, just hijack CBC's feed.

Now that I've told you about my wonderful urine, let's get down to business. You're all here to find out what's going in the world of Da Dane. Well, I'm going to tell you. Ahem!

"I hate Joel. I really do. Hate hate hate. Damn, Joel is stupid. What a loser."

Thank you. Good night.

*floor erupts*

And there you --

Have it! This is just humble speculation on my part, but it appears that Dane and Joel's parting of ways is virtually guaranteed. What does this mean for the future? Oh, hold on for a second. I've just been handed a bulletin fresh from the wire... It appears that several faces from the music industry and Hollywood are teaming up to throw a benefit concert to help reunite the wayward bloggers. Headliners include Michael Bolton, Jennifer Lopez, Celine Dion, and Barbra Streisand, with emcee duties conducted by Sean Penn. Early estimates of casualties are placed around the hundred million mark. May God have mercy on us all. We now return you to our regular programming - Simple Life 4: Porn Stars.

To Be Continued!

Humm, curious indeed.

Is it a coincidence that Joel hasn't posted anything in a while and the NYPD busting 30 memebers of the Gambino mob family?
Joel, what aren't you telling the rest of us?
Was your trip to the Battlefords a quick getaway to dodge the authorities?
I Think so.

I blame the NHL

We need NHL back. I say this because the other day I was actually watching curling.
The Brier was on TV and I was looking at it.
My eyes were glued to the screen. I watched each stone being thrown. I even watched the guards being hucked, which is very uneventful.
I judged each shot on how good or how bad I thought it was.
I yelled hurry, harder and curl at the screen
I watched an entire ten ends.
Man am I a loser.

Membership revoked

I awoke with a start. Dirty water was dripping down my face.
I lying in the gutter and was just splashed by a passing 1994 Nissan Sentra. It was red.
The cold water sent a shiver down my spine as I peeled myself off the side of the road.
I sat on the curb and let my head collect some thoughts.
I couldn’t believe that just happened. Why? What happened.


I stepped into the library earlier that day. Everything was going fine. Work was over, and I was about to renew my book so I could go home and read. I was on page 475 of 712, and it was getting really interesting.
I looked through the shelves for ideas about what to read next. I thought Steve Martin’s In the Pleasure of my Company might be good.
Anyway I went to the counter and produced my library card.
“I’d like to renew this please,” I said with the nicest, happiest tone of voice I could muster.
“Kay,” said the 67-year-old librarian with a white and yellow plaid shirt. The kind old people are wearing these days.
I noticed her curly grey hair was thinning. It creeped me out.
She scanned the bar code.
BEEP went the computer.
“Sorry, you can’t renew this book. It’s on hold.”
I stared at her in disbelief. It must be some kind of joke.
“It’s on hold, you can’t take it out again. I can put a hold on it for you so you’re next to get it.”
I was still shocked. I couldn’t think of anything to say. My brain was still computing the information she just overloaded my neurons with.
As her words slowly sunk in, my core temperature started to rise as my blood began to boil.
I could already tell my evil rage demon was about to take control of my body.
My arms shot forward and grabbed the little old lady by the yellow-and-white plaid collar.
I shook her violently. Her had snapped back and forth. Her eyes rolled around in their sockets.
I started feeling better.
“Are you sure that book is on hold, bitch?” I asked her in a mean voice.
She couldn’t talk. She was choking on her tongue.
Then someone grabbed me from behind. It was the library assistant.
Now, I always thought of library assistants as little sissy girls, but this was no sissy.
He was six foot of solid muscle mass. I’d guess he drinks three protein energy shakes a day.
He lifted me over his head and slammed my extremely good-looking body into the carpeted floor.
All I could think about was my pretty face. How could I ever make it to TSN with a ugly face. It just doesn’t happen.
When his boot came down on the back of my head. Everything went black.

I looked in my wallet. There was only an empty spot where my library card once was.

Moooooo

Today was supposed to be a great day for Canadian ranchers. The US was going to allow Canadian beef back in the country.
It didn’t happen. Now I’m faced with more and more news stories about the poor farmers and how the government is screwing them over.
I’ve decided it’s time to take some action.
I’m digging an underground railroad which will let farmers smuggle their livestock into the States.
I’m going to need some help with this large tunnel as I am a weak little guy with little shovel experience.
So if you care at all for the Canadian beef industry meet me five kilometres north of the US border directly on the border between Alberta and Saskatchewan.
The more people we get the quicker it’ll get done, so hurry.
I bet in 100 years I’ll be a Canadian legend and there’ll be “Part of our Heritage” commercials about me.

My good dead for the day

I saved the day again.
Only moments after Joel departed back to Rocky, I headed to the News-Optimist office. I needed to check a few things before the big North Star game.
Unlike every other Sunday I’ve visited the office, it wasn’t empty. There were people there. Three people including the boss.
I wondered why?
I walked in through the front door and immediately noticed the problem. The carpet was soaked and the entryway was flooded. The melting snow was the culprit. The basement was also submerged in a foot of water.
I waded through the mess and headed to my desk. I sat down and started a little work.
Moments later, the boss comes to me and wants me to take pictures of the water damage for insurance purposes. I wonder why me?
It’s a point-and-click digital camera. You turn the setting to auto and fire at will. Pretty simple.
But maybe this new technology was just a little bit advanced for them. Not everyone is as smart as me.
They have those fancy automobiles that almost drive themselves. They might not know to look through the viewfinder to see what they’re about to take a picture of.
I can’t assume everyone is up to my level. I have to be realistic.
So I took the pictures. I made sure they turned out great and everyone is happy.
It feels good to do something for the less fortunate.

Pass the doobie to the left-hand side

Do permafried people know they are brain-dead idiots?

Last night I ended up hanging out with two cronic pot smokers at the Keg Room. Let’s call one Mike and the other Ryan, because those are their names.

Anyway, they’re both decent guys. I didn’t have a problem with them. I whopped them at pool, running the table for eight straight games. Yippy.

Anyway, you can just tell when a person has smoked too much weed in one’s life.

They tell the stupidest stories, which usually begin with “I was so fucked up.”

They can’t remember anything at all. Mike couldn’t remember he was in the middle of a game of pool.

The other one assumed the game was over, and racked again.

I didn’t care because it takes too long to explain things to these people.

Idiots!

P.S. My goal today is to outpost Joel. You're going down bitch!

In the name of science

Welfare is supposed to be for those who can’t afford to take care of themselves. It’s for the needy, the disabled or those deemed worthy.

It makes me wonder why, the sale of crack would increase around the same time as the welfare checks are being distributed.

A fellow reporter with the crime beat told me that police notice there is a significant increase in drug activity during the week following the distribution of welfare checks.

The only real conclusion I can wrap my head around is that drug addicts are signing up to welfare for free money.

Hmmmmm. Interesting. I’m giving up a chunk of my check to support crack addicts.

Who’s in charge of the screening process? I think they should have a regular drug test every so often. If you want a check piss in the cup.

I took some time and thought about where my money was going.

At first I was furious. I was absolutely pissed off, but now I’m okay with it.

The world needs drug abusers. Without them Earth would be a better place.

There’d be less crime. Less death from overdoses and drug-induced rampages. Kids could roam the streets after dark with less care.

Who wants that? That’s a crap idea, so here’s a different one.

I do however feel that welfare just isn’t right. They should have to do something to constantly get fucked up.

I suggest we give jobs. The type I suggest is drug testing.

These people fill their body with crap anyway, so let’s pay them to test new pharmacudical drugs.

If it kills them; oh well, they were going to overdose eventually.

This way, junkies could make a contribution to society by helping cure disease.

We could skip the animal testing process and go right to humans.

The animal rights groups would love this idea, so would big pill corporations and of course the police.

So let’s supply our junkies with crack and let them help the world by being test subjects to cure disease.

Do a little dance. Make a little love.

Today was one of those hectic days where they shave an hour off your deadline, when you barely had a minute to spare on the old one.

So I got cracking and pumped out all my shit.

Then to reward myself I imagined Joel doing his rainbow dance. Joel’s rainbow dance is whack.

It brought a smile to my face.

Personally I prefer jazz hands or the ‘dig,’ but that's Joel for ya.

Keep on rocking in the free world Joel!

What's in a name?

Being in an industry where accuracy is key, getting the correct spelling of people's names is vital. I just wish they made it a lot easier on reporters.

The world would be a perfect place everyone had simple names like Tom Dick or Janet Smith. It would be super fantastic.

But no, there has to be some messed up parent wanting a unique name for their kid. I met a new way of spelling Sarah--Sayra. What the hell is up with that. I've now encountered four different spellings. There's Sarah, Sara, Sera and now Sayra. What's the world coming to?

Anyway, for all those pregnant ladies reading this blog pick some simple names, if not don't be surprised if the paper messes up once and a while.

P.S. Joel wears ladies' socks.

It's just one of those days

Today I just want to transform into a smurf, eat some magic mushrooms and run through the forest. I'm not sure what my smurf name would be. It could be skinny smurf, smarmy smurf or super smurf. I'd love to be tripping out in the bushes on a nice summer day. That would be grand.

OR

It'd be nice to be godzilla. I wouldn't mind stomping on a bunch of people, crushing cars and breathing fire on an entire city. I'd rather be godzilla than King Kong. Kong would smell bad.

Oh well the day is nearly over. I think I'll finish it in my cubicle. My cozy little corner of the News-Optimist.