Sunday, January 13, 2008

Baby, Why Do You Only Eat My Ass Out When You’re Drunk?

C'mon baby, not in front of the guys

Baby, why do you only eat my ass out when you’re drunk? Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You know I so love the slippery slide of your tongue gliding over and into my anus, but I have to say that, looking back, you’ve been drunk every time you’ve done it.

What do I have to do, baby? You know I wouldn’t hesitate for a second to lick your ass clean. Night or day, high or sober – I’m there and I’m loving it. So why is it so hard for you unless you’ve polished off a bottle of wine?

It’s getting to be I can’t look at myself in the mirror. Do you not like my ass, baby? Do you not feel the rush, your mouth watering as you spread my cheeks to reveal my tightly-wound sphincter, ripe for a lashing?

I’ve done everything I can think of. I’ve lathered various and expensive oils, lotions and creams all over my asshole in a vain attempt to lure your inquisitive little tongue. But, try as I might, it’s all for naught unless you’re liquored up.

I’m not usually one for ultimatums. You know that, baby. But unless you can bring yourself to ream my anus with your tongue while you have your wits about you, my ass is off limits even if you’ve just downed a twenty-sixer. And as much as it pains me, you can bet your ass is going to stay bone dry until we’ve sorted this out.

Tuesday, January 08, 2008

Reading Builds Character

“Alright gentlemen, thank you for coming. Jenkins, I realize your son is ill so I appreciate your coming from his bedside on such short notice. I assure you I would not ask you to make such a sacrifice if this wasn’t of the utmost importance. Before I begin, I must remind you all that what I am about to share with you does not leave this room. The situation I am about to lay before you has dire and far-reaching implications for not only this country and the world, but all of human civilization.

On the board you see 12 people. Every one of these people is either a high-ranking official in the Conservative government, a spouse, a relative or an aide to such an official. Over the past 10 months, each of these people has become, on average, two and a half million dollars richer.

Subject B – son-in-law to the current Minister of Finance - raked in five million in the lotto. Starting earlier this year, Subject D – ex-wife of the Minister of International Trade – gambled hundreds of thousands on sporting events – and won every time. Subject F is the son of the Prime Minister’s chief of staff; he’s made over two million on the stock exchange in the second half of the year alone – this after over a decade of financial blunders that had his family on the verge of brankruptcy. The list goes on, much the same. Either through illegal gambling, the lotto or the stock exchange – and, generally, through a mixture of the three - all twelve of these people have made millions of dollars this year. How did they accomplish this, you ask? Some might argue pure luck; As you’ll see, I postulate otherwise.

A winning lotto ticket here, a good guess on the markets there. Nothing out of the ordinary, of course. But this group of 12, all connected to the highest reaches of government? Seven lotto winners among them. And, sure, who doesn’t make a few bucks betting on the NBA? But what about the PGA? NHL? NFL? Baseball? Hell, even the CFL. Nobody’s that lucky, and nobody can fix that many games across that many sports. Not to mention that not a single one had shown an interest in illegal sports gambling before January this year.

Take a look at Subject G. He’s the brother of the Justice Minister. You might recognize him as the Crown’s representative during the trial of one Carson Collins late last year. Would you be surprised to know that along with him there are other names to be added to this group of 12, including Carson Collins? His defense attorney? The judge presiding over the murder trial? These people have all become rich in the exact same manner as all the rest. How odd, would you not agree?

If you’ll recall, Carson Collins’ trial was an odd one, indeed. Though Collins’ DNA was found liberally lathered on the victim’s charred and unidentifiable corpse, the Crown announced to little fanfare in the middle of his trial that they had found the real killer, some drunken vagabond from the Thunder Bay region who also happened to be dead. Charges were summarily dropped, and that was the last we heard of Carson Collins. This was done a few days after a highly unusual in camera session of court, a session virtually unheard of for a routine murder case.

Jenkins, I can see you getting restless. Please, I implore you to stay focused. The matters I am to continue talking about are of dire importance. Now, allow me to read for you a court transcript of the exchange that led to this in camera meeting:

Crown: Mr. Collins, how do you account for the fact that your DNA was found all over the victim’s body?
Collins: As I have repeatedly said, there is a very logical answer to that question.
Crown: By all means, Mr. Collins, I’d be happy to hear.
Collins: Again, for reasons that will be quite obvious only once I’ve given my explanation, I cannot provide you with any information right now, for the sake of international security.
Crown: I’m sorry, international security?
Collins: That’s correct. If we could meet in the judge’s chamber, away from the public, away from the media, I can provide information that will lead to my acquittal and much, much more. I ask only that the judge provide me with this one indulgence. If afterwards nobody is satisfied, I’ll be happy to admit my own culpability. But so convinced am I of the earth-shattering evidence I can provide, I know it will not come to that.

And so ends the transcript. Following this, the judge granted Collins’ unusual request, and all charges were dropped the following week. By their very nature, in camera meetings are secret. We may never know what Collins said. But what he could have said to explain why his DNA was on a dead man’s body and get himself off the hook so easily is beyond me. I do know that not two weeks after this exchange, however, the 12 introduced earlier and those connected to the trial began making their money.

Around the same time, if you’ve been paying any attention to the newspapers this year, Canada embarked upon an unprecedented string of international successes that would put Pearson to shame. First, a diffusion of the situation in Pakistan. Next, the destruction of the Taliban and al-Qaeda in Afghanistan. With information provided by Canada, Coalition forces were able to destroy the insurgency in Iraq and unite the country. A solution to the conflict in Israel was achieved after Canadian intervention, with the state of Palestine expected to come into being in May. No less than twelve terrorist bombings and nine assassinations were foiled in the past year due to intelligence gathered by CSIS. For these reasons and many more I’m sure you’re familiar with, Stephen Harper was named Time Magazine’s Person of the Year – right after winning a record majority in the House of Commons. It would seem that as the 12 achieved success, so too did Canada and its government.

It all started with Carson Collins, I believe, which led me to take a closer look at the circumstances surrounding the murder he is accused of. After examining forensic reports, I came upon the coroner’s startling discovery that Carson’s DNA isn’t on the victim – it is the victim’s. Unable to identify the corpse through traditional means, the OPP took DNA samples from the body that matched Collins. Assuming him to be the victim, you can imagine how shocked they must have been when they arrived at his house to find him very much alive. And before you ask, Thompson, no, he had no twin. Going back, forensic investigators were unable to find the victim’s actual DNA, and the OPP settled on the idea that the fire set to the body had destroyed it. A believable theory to a layman on a jury, but scientifically impossible.

While it’s accepted that Collins’ DNA found itself on the corpse, I believe that the corpse is a duplicate of Collins created through time travel. Furthermore, this time traveler – be him Collins now or the victim – brought with him information from the future that the Canadian government and people associated with it used to their advantage.

No, Jenkins, don’t you dare get up now. You too, Corrigan. I’m staking my career on this theory, so hear me out. Blast it man, you walk out that door, I’ll have you arrested! There are bigger things than your son! Five minutes of your time, Tom. Five minutes.

A fire destroyed several research laboratories at Stanford University in February. One of these was a small out of the way lab in the basement overseen by three researchers of little esteem. Shunned by their peers, they spent the better halves of their careers in that basement working on a time machine. That this laboratory was destroyed in the fire is no significant fact in and of itself; dozens of others were, as well. But what I do think is significant is that the lead researcher, one Richard Sykes, was killed in a home invasion the week before. Less than a month after the fire, the surviving two scientists were killed in an automobile accident. These are startling coincidences, gentlemen. There remains now no trace of their research, nor anyone who can carry it on.

I posit that at some point in the future, these scientists were successful in creating a time machine. Carson Collins – either by force or with their consent - used this time machine to come back to late 2007 and, armed with knowledge of future sporting events, the stock exchange and winning lottery numbers, wanted to make himself rich beyond belief.

Coming back, naturally, Collins had to contend with the version of himself that existed in the present. His solution was to kill this person and take his place. He did a very good job of hiding the body’s identity through conventional means, but you can only hide DNA so well. Once caught, he was forced to bring the judge and lawyers into his plan. Through the Crown attorney the Conservatives got involved, explaining the record year Canada had during 2008.

Our task here is clear, gentlemen. We have to stop Collins and the Conservatives through any means possible before they’re able to pollute the timestream any further. Now let’s get to work!"

Friday, January 04, 2008

As Tired As This Blog

Rick Mercer: Too edgy for a tie

In the writers’ room at the Rick Mercer Report:

Writer1: Alright we’ve got the Mountain Dew, a few bags of Doritos and some Great Big Sea on the stereo! Let’s get crackin’ on ideas for the next month!

Writer2: Alright, I was thinking… you know how sometimes, Rick, you go around the country and visit politicians and other notable Canadians and just sorta… hang with ‘em?

Rick Mercer: Yup.

Writer1: Like, a barbeque with Stephane Dion? Fishing with Ed Stelmach?

Writer2: Exactly. Well, this time, I was thinking maybe you could try using comedy and satire to make a point and have an impact on our national discourse? You know, sorta like how the Daily Show or Colbert Report does, only in your inimitable, cantankerous style.

Writer1: We could do that, or we could go mini golfing with Dalton McGuinty! Or do a colouring book with Michaelle Jean!

Rick: Brilliant! Or, how about me and Stephen Harper skate down the Rideau Canal, and then I go down on him?

Writer2: Sorry, what was that?

Rick: Yeah, you know. Instead of providing incisive commentary in order to show that I have principles to stand up for, I can do my patented wishy-washy, gloves-on brand of humour with Stephen Harper while we do some folksy activity. And then at the end, just so nobody’s offended by the few meager, watered-down jabs I took at him, and everyone understands that I don’t mean him any ill will – even though I, personally, would have plenty of reason to – I can just suck him off, right on camera.

Writer2: Wouldn’t his wife have a problem with that?

Writer1: Not from what I hear…