Accident Fish

Last night, I became a fish owner by accident.

You see, a friends daughter is turning 12, and she's an animal nut. Since she's getting towards that age of maturity, I thought a good gift would be one that could test her responsibilities. An animal she can call her own, that's hers, that she takes care of.

So I got her a little tank and a Japanese fighting fish.

After all, it's only a fish. If she kills it, it'll be the toilets problem, and I know not to get her any more animals.

I usually see my buddy Thursday nights to hang out, shoot the shit, have a coffee and later a shot or three of whisky. So, last night being Thursday, I got the tank and the little cup the fish comes in and brought it home.

Of course, he was busy last night for the first time in about eight years. Go figure.

And of course, I was busy Friday and Saturday, him Sunday and well, you get the picture.

Now, part of her growing up responsibilities would be to properly prepare the tank, let it get to room temperature, add the proper chemicals, etc. etc. I couldn't let this fish swim around in the cup for the next week, cuz if it didn't die in a weeks time it would probably die shortly after I gave the thing to her. And then she'd think she was a fish killing monster who couldn't be trusted with any animal, sending her in a spiral of depression ending with her being an 18 year old pregnant meth addict stripper.

I didn't want to be the one responsible for that. Besides, that's her dads job (kidding! kidding!)

So, I prepped the tank, and am now a proud owner of a fish! I'll get the kid another next week.
Now, what should I name the fish? I was thinking of Fishy McFinnigan. Any suggestions?

Tell you what. I'd like some suggestions, and I'll pick the best ones and put it up on a poll to vote. Whoever wins gets me to guest blog for them! Or stay away from your blog forever, whichever you think might increase your blog's popularity.

Course, this all might be moot. I'm going out of town tonight for a bachelors party (I'm the best man) and will be gone most of the weekend.

Hopefully, Mr. McFinnigan (or whatever his name might be) will still be alive at that point, otherwise the contest will be moot!

Later all,

Spazoid

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Barnyard Retard
Dangers of Canadian Animals

It wasn't his fault.

It wasn't his fault.

That's the only thing I could think of when animal control lead him away.

It wasn't his fault.

We found him early this morning, hanging outside the offices. He was dusty, dirty, and hot. It appeared he'd been hanging around for sometime.

I held him by collar in the legal department and fed him some water from an empty cool whip container. He didn't have tags on. The ladies in legal searched the municipal database for a dog that matched his description, but to no avail.

The local animal control had to be called.

He sat with me at my desk, tongue hanging out and panting. He yearned to be petted, and when I did so I was rewarded with a lick, with a paw on my arm, and with a stare from his brown eyes, so full of soul and life.

And his fate was likely sealed when he was lead away.

I can't take him, I wish I could. Nobody in the city could take him.

You see, this friendly, handsome animal is part pit bull.

It was a sad series of events. It was because of a few bad owners who mistreated and mistrained their dogs. A few children got bit. Shrill shrieks and cries were aimed at city council, and in typical fashion council responded with a bullshit knee jerk by-law.

Now, every and all pit bulls are dangerous animals. Any pit bull, or any dog with pit bull in him. Regardless of a good owner, regardless of a decade of docile behavior, they were dangerous.

Registration costs soared to $250.00 yearly. Signs had to be put up on your property advising of a "dangerous animal." You can no longer breed them, and should they step outside your house they have to be muzzled. Lord help you if they get off your property and poop on your neighbors lawn.

My dog danced away, being lead by animal control to a new and exciting adventure, not knowing his fate was most likely death. I wish I could take him, but I cannot afford the stigma attached. Nobody can.

More people get bitten by retrievers and labs. Chiwawa's are naturally meaner. But it does not matter. A powerful dog being raised by a few criminally negligent people, and the entire breed must suffer for it. Innocent dogs are dying because of it.

The politicians that govern my city are nothing but filthy cowards vying for votes. They are murderers.

I want to scream, I want to put my fist though the wall. I want to put a stake through the heart of the cowardly politicians that pushed the by-law through. I want to eviscerate the asshole dog owners that abused their dogs until they became dangerous. I want to bring about justice for all the good dog owners who were unfairly separated from a loyal and faithful companion. I want justice for all the good dogs who's only crime wasn't their fault, but who paid for it anyways.

It wasn't his fault, it was ours.

But he's paying the price.

Old dog, new trick.

What a weekend this has been so far. I've seen two things that have affirmed my position on getting old, and it's given me an idea.

Thing #1

You ever seen a really, really, really old lady? We're talking about wispy white hair, hunched back, withered liver spotted skin, medicinal smell, the crinkle of diapers when she walks, that sort of thing? Friday, her mother was ahead of me in a check out line.

This old coot wanted to buy a lottery ticket. Not a daily keno or a 649, nothing like that. No. She purchased a cash for life.

I'm betting money that the cash for life people would JIZZUM in their pants if a 107 year old mummified old coot won.

I guess your brain really does turn to much when your body goes to dust.

Thing #2

Today, a friend of my fathers called me to help him pick up a riding lawnmower that was getting repaired. This guy is no spring chicken. He's in his late 60's and his wife is 75. When I arrived, I saw his wife, standing beside her car. Sitting in a lawn chair beside the car was his wife's aunt. She's not quite as old as lottery ticket lady, but I'm still nothing more than a sperm compared to her.

As luck would have it, she couldn't walk. She blamed it on some sort of pills her doctor gave her. So guess who had to carry old Betty big bottom through a huge house and up a spiral stair case?

I did suggest a winch through the top window. That wasn't appreciated.

A few years ago my childhood dog was nearing 16. She had a pancreatic infection, or it was cancer. Either way she was in terrible pain and there was no amount of medical help in the world that was going to set her right. She was humanely euthanized. She was in my arms when the vet gave her the needle, in the arms of the person she loved and cared for the most. She was relieved of a never ending pain without causing any more for her.

Right now I enjoy a good quality of life. I'm healthy, I'm happy, and I'm strong. That could change at any moment. I could be hit by a bus, or fall off a building, or just get old, senile and incontenant.

When you end the suffering of a family pet, it's called the final act of love. When you do the same for a human loved one, it's called murder.

The hypocritical double standard of todays society aside, If my senior years are spent drooling and shitting myself while a Sharon, Lois and Bram clone band sing retarded songs to me in the home, I don't want to be around.

Thats why at the first signs of zero quality of life, I'm dressing like a dog and booking myself into the SPCA. Nobody will adopt me, and I'll be humanely put out of my misery, to spare myself the humiliation and degradation senility brings.

Feel free to use my idea! I won't hold it against you.

============

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Get off the road, you blue haired dolt!
I think I threw up a little in my mouth

This makes me sick.

Let's get one thing straight, with all of humanity, right here and right now.

WE ARE ANIMALS, JUST LIKE ANY OTHER LIVING THING THAT CRAWLS, WALKS, OR SLITHERS.

We are not better than then any other animal.

We do not have any more right to be here, on this planet than any other animal does.

Every animal, on this planet, including humans, has the right to survive, to eat, to defend itself with any means at its disposal.

Death is a part of life, and is acceptable in the natural cycle. AND ONLY the natural cycle. The needless torture and death as an act of ownership that humans exhibit for their own pleasure is a CRIME AGAINST EVERY LIVING THING.

There is a man in South America that calls himself an artist. He goes by the name of Guillermo Vargas Habacuc. In 2007, he took a dog off the street and tied it to a post in an art gallery, while people watched this poor defenseless animal starve to death.

I'm not only horrified that this is called art, but that his government condoned it as such. Take a look at the pictures here, if you are strong of stomach. What kind of person could do such a thing? What kind of government can allow it? What kind of people could visit the gallery and sit by and do nothing?

The answer, in short, are cowards. Cowardly people that are not right in the head, in my opinion.

So what can you do about it, besides flying down to Nicaragua and overthrowing the government that condoned this, beating the people that watched it, and killing the criminal who though it up?

Sign this petition.

This dirt bag is going to pull the stunt again, this year, in 2008. Sign the petition. It doesn't cost you anything, and every extra name helps.

One more thing. If you feel strongly about this like I do, put this up on your blog. It's not just about one dog, it's about a statement, a contingent of people who won't stand for barbaric, medieval style thinking. It's one of the many things that you and I can do to start to bring the human animal in harmony with our world and our roomates, instead of constant conflict with it.

Until we can come to grips with our own superiority complex, the only true animals that inhabit this planet is us humans.

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If you care about the world at all, please read the following:

The story of stuff

Trip with the dog

*Update April 8th, 2008. Moooog35, mental man of poo, one of the funniest blogs I read, has done me the honour of letting me guest post for him. Go to his page, and check out my guest post! Then read the rest of his shit. It's really, really good. Just don't get so absorbed in the gooey funny that is mental poo to forget about little ol' spazoid, eh?

This weekend, it was time for one of my semi annual pilgrimages to a small town two hours north of where I live. I do this because the dog I purchased happens to be:
1. Rare
2. Difficult to groom
3. I have to drive two hours to get her groomed.

The breeder grooms her, which involves three hours of hand stripping a fidgity high energy terrier. They only charge me $60, and they do an absolutely fantastic job. The reason they only charge me $60? I think it's because I have to spend three hours in their little town.

Here is the sign coming into town:
Who uses one of their slogan words as HIGH? Well, obviously that's the reason they are all HAPPY, but does being high all the time really make you healthy?

There's not much to do in this little town. I decided to browse the local real estate. Seen here are the premium trailer spots.
Here's a shot of the downtown core:
At least the locals have something to do, as seen here (the sign says lovers lane, in case it's too small or blurry to read, oh shit I just ruined the joke, oh well):Of course, by the time they get there it's usually dark, which is the way they like it:
But, Jinx got a fantastic hair cut. I think she lost about a pound of hair, which would be the equivalent of me shaving my chest. Here's the before:
Here's her after shot:
Just because I think Border Terriers are the coolest dogs on the planet, I'd like to share with you Jinx's aunt and grandmother.
In closing, here is one of the more disturbing things I've seen on youtube recently. Enjoy.



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Small Town Idiot
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Roadrage mother fucker!

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Primates Rule!

C.Rag doesn't like primates in any form. I don't understand what's the matter with her.

Seriously.

Monkeys are FUNNY. They do all the things that retarded people do that we find funny. The difference is, IT'S OK FOR US TO LAUGH AT THEM.

Like, when I see a retarded person stick his finger in the dirt, his ear, his nose, his dirty un-wiped bum, and then his mouth, I laugh. Well, except I keep it on the D/L because I'm afraid a group of fat crusading mothers with no rational thought and nothing better to do will beat me to a bloody pulp and sue me after I get out of the hospital for causing emotional distress. And win.

But go to the zoo and see a monkey beating off or throwing poo at another monkey, laugh away! People will join you!

Really, how can a monkey NOT be funny?



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Disgusting Google Perverts
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Happy Easter!

Happy Easter Sunday everybody!

Boy, was I ever given a HUGE treat this morning. I went out to my backyard, and there he was, the easter bunny, laying me some mini chocolate eggs, right on my property! I couldn't believe it! So I snapped a picture.

I was so excited, that I tried one right away!

They weren't as good as the ones you buy from the store. Not nearly as good. As a matter of fact, they tasted like ASS! I figured this was the easter bunnies way of punking me because I'm not christian. So I let my dog outside.

This is what's left of that damned bunny!

I apologize for ruining Easter this year and years to come. If theres a bright side to this story, I don't have to feed my dog today. She's already eaten!

Happy Easter all!

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Barnyard Brawl: The Barnyard Retard

Yes, it is time for another episode of the Barnyard Brawl! For those who have not read my previous two episodes, the story revolves around a group of hapless farm animals, loosely based on some animals on a friends farm . These social misfits represent the dregs of our human society, complete with a hedonism complex and sever personality disorders. If you have not already, I would strongly encourage you to read part one here and part two here. Trust me, it would make much more sense, but you'll still try to have me committed for even thinking of this literary abortion.

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When last we left our animal friends, Dicky the pig fucking horse had just died. The weird noisy hairless animals had replaced him with a young stallion, which Beatrice the horny cow found out was a gelding. The hard way. When he would not (or could not) have sex with her.

Cow: Well come on you nutless wonder. Let's go meet the others.
Horse: I thought we were going to get our hooves done?
Sheep #1: Hi new horse, you dickless faggot!
Cow: That's Ed. He's an asshole.
Horse: I like assholes!
Sheep#1: Hey cow! Maybe if you strapped a log to your udders homo over there would pound your cinnamon ring!
Horse: You mean .... I thought those green tasty things that grow on trees were called assholes?
Sheep#1: Man, we got a sharp one here. He's almost as stupid as retard!
Horse: Who's retard?
Sheep #1: Oh, it's my idiot brother. All he can say is
Sheep #2: (from behind horse) BAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Horse: (gets startled and kicks sheep in the head) Oh no! Oh no oh no oh no! I'm so sorry! Are you ok?
Sheep #2: (shakes head) Oh my, thank you! You seemed to have cured my speech impediment!
Sheep #1: Holey Shit! Did you just talk?
Sheep #2: My dear ungulate! Of course I could talk! I was born with a brain defect that stunted my speech. It did not, however, stunt my intellectual growth.
Cow: Uh?
Sheep #1: Well I'll be damned! You're not a retard!
Sheep #2: To the contrary. While you and your cohorts have been lazing around, chewing your cud and humping each other, I've been looking, listening, and most importantly, learning.
Sheep #1: I didn't ask for the fucking speech, professor ugly!
Sheep #2: I expect such a response from a mouth breathing slime bucket such as yourself. Now listen closely, because I'm about to get us everything we always wanted.
Cow: Balls for Mr. Effeminate over there?
Horse: Like I had a choice in the matter! And your horns clash with your bell, and your bell clashes with your fat ass!
Cow: Shut up!
Sheep #2: Listen! Those funny hairless animals with all the power - I've learned to speak their language. And we're going to hold them ransom.
Cow: How?
Sheep #2: You know how they milk you every day?
Cow: How could I forget? The titty massage makes my bovine ass quiver!
Sheep #2: They use the milk for food. And they use the chicken eggs for food too. Every morning before sunrise, I'll show you how to get into the coop and destroy the eggs. And I'll suck you dry of milk so there is nothing left for them.
Cow: Medium pressure, no teeth, gently tongue in a COUNTER clockwise motion. Got it?
Sheep #2: Yes my dear I shall do it with pleasure. When the humans wonder whats going on, we'll tell them, and I'll tell them they'll starve unless our demands are met.
Cow: What are our demands?
Sheep #2: Whatever we want!
Horse: A pink ribbon for my hair!
Cow: Sex with a real horse!
Sheep #1: Cow miserable!
Cow: Hey! Ass!
Sheep #2: And Beatrice, there's something I've always wanted to tell you, something I couldn't until now, and I'll burst unless I tell you!
Cow: What is it?
Sheep #2: Your beauty, your grace, are no equal. Your eyes swim like a thousand oceans, your body is that of a goddess, your scent a divine gift from the gods.
Cow: Swoon!
Sheep #2: Beatrice, I must tell you that I Lo....

Sheep#1 kicks Sheep #2 in the head

Sheep #2: BAAAAAAAA BABAA BAAAAAAAAAAA!
Cow: ED! WHAT THE FUCK!
Sheep #1: Blah blah blah! All he did was talk! I solved that problem didn't I!
Cow: I fucking hate you, Ed.

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A guide to the dangers of Canadian Animals

One of my previous posts, the dating perils of the small town, many people got a bad impression of Canada. All the Americans who read it thought Canada was some sort of benign country where everybody was friendly, hardworking and good to his fellow man. Instead, they learned Canada is a capitalist clusterfuck filled with fat people that have huge, undeserved senses of entitlement. JUST LIKE AMERICA.

But just like America, Canada is full of natural beauty and scenic wonder. We have beautiful coastlines, gorgeous inland lakes, rivers and watersheds, and beautiful and relatively undisturbed nature parks and preserves.

Although Canada does not have many animals that are poisonous, we do have our share of dangerous animals that should be treated with respect. For any American wanting to drink in the natural scenic beauty of our Canadian wilds, I am pleased to provide the following guide for their consideration.

First on the list are Black Bears. While they are much smaller than the counterpart you may be more familiar with, the Grizzly, they are also faster, more intelligent and much more malicious. They tend to stay away from humans (due to our horrid overwhelming stench), but every once and a while you'll come across a bear who is attracted to that. If you're wondering why a bear would be attracted to something that smells horrid like us humans, I'll just remind you of the Japanese. The first thing you must understand, is that these bears will consider you another bear, because you're of the same size standing. The second thing is, you're standing. That's bad. When bears stand, it's the first move in a competition for dominance. Since you will never be able to out fight a bear, or out run one, you must show it that you are no threat, and further, that you consider that bear a dominant animal. The appropriate action is to pull your pants down around your ankles, turn around, put your head on the ground and your ass straight up in the air. Failure to do this right away will earn you a mauling. Don't be afraid if the bear sniffs about your ass, that's just his way of ensuring you're not a threat. Finally, if he mounts you, remember, it's not about sex, it's about dominance. Just stay quiet until the bear moves away (he may want to have a cigarette or a nap first).

Beaver falls second in the danger scale, behind the black bears. Though they are smaller and mostly nocturnal, should you run into a pack of these aggressive rodents, you are in trouble. Though they don't look particularly lithe, they can run at human sprinting speeds and out jump a kangaroo. If you happen across these animals, they will take you down, and gnaw your limbs off and use them to build a dam. As a side note, should you see a dam of human limbs, go back the way you came as fast as your little legs will carry you.

The only thing that beaver are scared of are black bears. Before going into the wilderness, scout out a local Beaver Lumber store. They carry bear urine, and you should douse yourself liberally in the stuff. That is guaranteed to keep the beaver away. They won't have it on the shelves, you'll have to ask for it at the back. Just make sure you wink at the person behind the counter when asking for it. That's the secret; otherwise they'll think you're American and deny they have it. Beaver Lumber employees don't much like Americans.

Black Flies are huge and numerous, especially in Canada's four week long summer. You can tell they are coming by the high pitched, whiny shrill buzz they emit from their wings. These flying poo covered menaces have only about half of the thinking power of Dubya Bush, so they cannot be reasoned with at all. The only thing that will keep them away is to find something even more shrill and annoying than they are. I recommend keeping a Celine Dion CD and speakers on hand at all times in the bush.


Last, but not least, are the squeegee kids. These animals are the most annoying at all, and nothing short of running them over will get rid of them. They can be easily identified by noting the smell, that they haven't had a shower in months and their hair has unintentional dreadlocks. Upon stopping at a red light, they will approach your car and attempt to clean it with a dirty, ratty squeegee they stole from a local gas station. They will then hope you don't notice that your windshield is now MORE dirty and beg for money. DO NOT LET THEM SQUEEGEE YOUR WINDOW. They cannot afford water or soap, so the buckets are full of urine, saliva, and sometimes seamen. When you come to a stop light, put your windshield wipers on. That's the universal signal that you don't want your windshield washed. And whatever you do, keep your windows rolled up. If bitten by a squeegee kid, you'll turn into one of them.

I hope the above guide to dangerous Canadian animals helped. If you follow the above suggestions, your stay in Canada will be a happy, memorable time.

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For all the disgusting google perverts that make it to my site.

Loud, raunchy, sticky, disgusting, perverted, ELEPHANT SEX!

That's HOT!

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Folks, don't try to kill a Smurf with your bare hand. They make an awful mess. See?


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Barnyard Addition

Back in December, I wrote a little story about some animals in a farm that my mom's friend owns. It was called barnyard brawl, and I wrote it after taking my dog Jinx over to play with one of their dogs. My inspiration came after seeing that the two dogs had an very captive audience of a cow, a horse and two sheep.

This will make much more sense if you read barnyard brawl first, so please, click here and do that. I'll wait while you do. Really, go ahead, it's ok, I have time.


All done? Good. Let's get on with today's story.

The horse I had lovingly nicknamed Dicky is no longer with us. He was thirty years old, and for a horse that's pretty much a geezer. Come to think of it, I just turned thirty. You know, I think I'll give those glue factories a wide berth. Just in case.

Dicky was replaced by another horse, a young gelding male. For those of you who don't know what a gelding is, it's a male horse that still has his weeny but got his pounder plums cut out. That happens a lot to male horses who won't be used for breeding, because it calms them down. That wouldn't calm me down. It would really piss me off. I mean, life without testosterone and little swimmers just isn't worth living, and I wouldn't want to. I'd take out as MANY people as I could along the way though!

Here is how I imagine the Disney conversation between the animals would have taken place. Disney if I were running Disney, which would not be for kids, that I assure you.

Cow: Ed, what happened to Dicky?
Sheep #1: I don't know Beatrice. Last thing I remember is the weird hairless animal hauling him away in the big box. He said something about a glue factory.
Cow: What's a glue? And what's a factory?
Sheep #2: BAAAAAAAAA BA BA BAAAAAAAAAA!
Cow & Sheep #1: SHUT UP RETARD!
Sheep #2: ba
Cow: Hey! There's Dicky now! He's back!
Sheep #1: I don't think that's Dicky, he doesn't look the same.
Cow: I'll say! He's got a four foot long schlong, instead of Dicky's itty bitty little three footer
Sheep #1: Beatrice, why do you always go for the stallions? You know you're not good enough. Nobody wants to screw a cow, at least, they'll never admit to it.
Cow: Can't blame a girl for trying right? Maybe this time will be different!
Sheep #1: Go for it then, I can't wait to watch you get shot down again!
Cow: Shut up Ed, or I'll tell this new guy you're a pig fucker.
Sheep #1: Whatever, at least I'm getting some, fatty.
Cow: I'm not FAT! I'm just big BONED!
Sheep #1: Whatever, land walrus.
Cow: Yea, shut your pie hole before I shit in your precious hair!

Cow approaches new horse

Cow: Hi there new horse, I'm Beatrice.
Horse: Hi Beatrice, I'm Paul.
Cow: Hi Paul, nice to meet you.
Horse: Nice to meet you too.
Cow: Paul, do you think I'm pretty?
Horse: Sure Beatrice, you're real pretty!
Cow: Really? You think so?
Horse: Sure do!
Cow: Great! (turns around so her butt is facing him) Take me big boy!
Horse: Take you where?
Sheep #1: Haha!
Cow: Shut up Ed!
Horse: What's going on?
Cow: Aren't you going to have your way with me?
Horse: Have my...? Oh. Oh. OOOOOOH!
Cow: Yes!
Horse: Ahhhh.... no.
Sheep #1: HA HA HA HA!
Cow: ED!
Cow: Why not Paul? I thought you said I was pretty?
Horse: Yea, you sure are! For a cow!
Sheep #1: HA HA HA HA HA!
Horse: Not that it matters, I'm a gelding
Cow: A gelding?
Horse: Yea, they took my nuts away. Ever since I haven't wanted any sex at all.
Sheep #1 & #2: HAHA!! BA BA BAAAAAA! HAHAHAA! BAAAAAAAA!
Cow: What?
Horse: Yea, I have no nuts. Hey, you know what? Do you want to go get manicures together? I hear that the chicken coop has some AMAZING estheticians! We can get our hair all prettied up too! Maybe we can do some shopping?
Sheep #1: Hey Beatrice! Why don't you take your new ball less effeminate boyfriend behind the barn and screw his brains out! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Cow: I fucking hate you Ed.

Stay tuned for the ongoing saga of the barnyard. Two sheep, one an asshole and one a retard, a gay horse, and a horny cow make good fodder for horribly perverted stories!!

To be the Canadian - Part 1, dreams of the big city

There are many stereotypes and mythes surrounding Canadian life. I'm writing this post today hoping I can clear up a few of those, by describing some of the events and actions I endure on a daily basis, as a Canadian. There is much to being Canadian, which is why I have titled this only part one of a series of posts to come.

I apologize if this is a bit quick. I'd like to make it longer, but my turn on Canada's Central Ontario computer is almost done. We got a colour screen last week! Everything is so vibrant! I can't believe the graphics on the new copy of PacMan we got on 5 1/4" floppy last week! But I digress.

It was the middle of August, when summer finally came. I was getting ready to move out of the winter igloo and into the summer log cabin, as I only had a week left before the igloo started to melt. I crawl out of the igloo and head towards the cabin, only to find a family of Grizzly bears have taken residence. Shit. Once a grizzly family settles in somewhere it's damn near impossible to get them out. What's worse, there's a full grown mom and pop, and three teen aged cubs.

Unfortunately, the night before I had lent my high caliber rifle to Lenny to go moose hunting in his backyard. You know Lenny from Canada right? Man, what a hoser, eh? Anyways, they are only grizzlies, it's not like I'm facing polar bears or anything. I can take a grizzly, or possibly two of the teen aged cubs, but not all five of them. No way sir! I'm not crazy!

Well, as every Canadian knows, grizzly and beaver are mortal enemies. The only way to get grizzlies to move out of a location is to make them think they have immediate competition for the space by beaver. Of course, beavers are inherently lazy animals, so you have to really force the situation. It's easy to catch beaver during the day, because they are nocturnal. So off I go to the beaver damn, poke a hole in their nest, and scoop up the lot of them.

A dozen beaver in hand, I sneak up to my log cabin kitchen window opening and throw them in. I then run like the dickens, as the mayhem inside ensues. Screaming, growling, gnashing of teeth, bangs and bumps, this goes on for 15 minutes before I see the door come flying open and the grizzly family going full tilt in one direction, followed by a dozen angry beavers. I swear, I saw one of the beavers flip the bears off before heading back to fix their broken ceiling.

As I make myself busy at the cabin cleaning up the bloody chunks of bear and poo of various sizes and messes, I find my thoughts wandering to moving. I always wanted to check out Canada's biggest city, Toronto. It's up to 500 people now, and that's enough to keep the bears away. It's not that I mind small town life, mind you, but I'm really getting sick of these stupid bears. Just yesterday I was getting ready to go to work. I come out of my igloo and what do I see? A dumb bear leaning up against the dogsled. I had to shoot the damned thing because it wouldn't move. It even took a swipe at me! At least the dogs had a good breakfast that morning.

Really though, have you ever slipped on beaver poo? Those stupid little animals leave their turds EVERYWHERE. I heard that in Toronto, the mayor hired some Inuit to train the beaver to pick up after themselves. I think. Either that or the Inuit just picked up all the beavers and left with them, I don't know. I don't really care though. Beaver are only good for scaring bears anyways, and I wouldn't need them anymore if I was living in the big city.

Speaking of which, here's a picture of our grand provincial capital.

Some people say that cities are ugly, but I disagree. I find the architecture awe inspiring! It's so straight and level, the degree of engineering is incredible! Those vibrant colours, and look! Do you see that? It's a CAR! Wow.

If I moved to Toronto I could get a desk job. I'm not quite sure what a desk job is, but I imagine it involves assembling desks. Or moving them maybe. I'm not sure really, never having seen a desk. I am told it looks something like a picnic table that's made out of metal and has something called "drawers". They make furniture out of metal in Toronto! Whole pieces of furniture! Man, it must be nice to be rich!

In Toronto, you don't have to carry a machete around with you to hack away at all the over growth to get from place to place. You don't need a compass either, because they have something there called "roads". Basically, a road is a path that's kept clear and is lined with cement. I can't imagine! Old man Smith has a cement foundation he builds his igloo around, but that's only because his dad got rich after a trip to America. In America, they have these things called "malls", that have "water fountains" in them. Apparently, Americans throw pennies into these fountains and make wishes. What a superstitious lot. Everyone knows that you have to catch a loon in a lake under a full moon for a wish to come true. Anyways, Smiths old man waded around in the fountain and came back to Canada with almost three American dollars! Talk about living the high life! Anyways, the people in Toronto must be super rich to be able to pave their streets!

I want to do all the big city things! Drive a car! Eat a burger! Drink beer out of a glass bottle (instead of a hollowed out bear skull)! Wear clothing made from something called "cloth" instead of moose pelt! See a movie on the big screen! In colour! With sound! Have sex with a woman that isn't some sort of cousin! All the good stuff!

But I know that big city life just isn't for me. I know that I'll go there, and I just won't fit in. I won't be cooth, I won't be cool, I won't be able to adapt myself to the high standards of high society. Hygene for one. I mean, they have something called a toothbrush, which means they have teeth!

I spent the summer thinking about the big city, thinking about all the things I'd never be able to see or do. All the things I'd miss out on in my life, the things that city folk get to do every day. The more I think about it, the more I realize how happy I am here. I mean, I'm my own made man. I'm responsible for the pinecones and deer liver in my gut! The skins on my back, and the roof over my head!

With the summer behind me, and my thoughts now on the happy life I'd created for myself here, I felt a smug satisfaction come over me. I no longer felt the need to turn my back on real Canadian life. With that, I went outside to start building the winter igloo. It was late September after all, and I wouldn't be able to last in the summer cabin much longer.

As I waded through the shin deep snow towards the spot where I build the igloo, I see that same bear family making their home in the remnants of last years shelter. Blast, and Lenny still has my rifle! Oh well, off to find some beavers.

Until next time,

-Canadian Spazoid

The END product

I hope everyone had a good Christmas. I had an excellent holiday, full of family and friends and cheer. I also received some generous gifts, which I didn't deserve because I'm a huge jerk.

Christmas day was spent with my buddy John and his family. His mother and wife cooked a terrific meal, including my all time favorite, ham. I LOVE pig. The way to my heart is through food, and the way to keep my heart is through pig meat. I don't know why, but this other white meat is just spectacular. If I could only have one, I'd choose pig. I don't care if it meant me going out into the woods with a sharpened stick, I'd get me some pig! But I digress.

Johns house is a dog friendly house, and to that end my puppy Jinx was with me. She LOVES his place, his dog Buddy, and sniffing around his back yard. Accordingly, everyone there loves Jinx, including his youngest daughter Aja. She's slightly bigger than Jinx and spends her time carrying the dog around, which Jinx tolerates very well. As usual, Jinx was a big hit. Everybody was cooing over her, and everyone was FEEDING her.

Here Jinx, have some turkey. Here Jinx, have some cheese! Here Jinx, want a cracker? Have a nice ham bone. Hey Mike, did you know Jinx likes parsnip?

Anyone who is a dog owner knows what happens to dogs when they deviate from their usual diet of kibble, sticks, insects, grass and cat poo. Especially when the food is rich, varied and plentiful. Jinx has a cast iron stomach, but even she has her limits.

Shortly after everyone was finished dinner, she asked to go outside. She was very insistent about it, she had to go NOW! I let her out, and 10 minutes later let her back in. Shortly there after she jumped up on the couch beside me, hung her head over the edge and BLARF! Projectile vomit halfway across the rug! Wonderful. As me and the kid sitting beside me are scooping up runny vomit and vegetable chunks with paper plates, I notice a smell. The smell was very distinct, and was coming from the rear end of Jinx. I look at her bum and yes, there are leftovers all over her rear end. Apparently, vomit was not the only projectile that had come from her that day.

So, as I had the dog tucked under one arm bum end out, and a wet wipe in the other hand, my thoughts naturally wandered to poo, the end products of all end products.

As some of you may recall, some time ago my flawed logic identified pooing as the meaning of life. As such, much of my time is spent thinking about it. After all, if it truly is the meaning of life it does deserve some thought.

There is nothing like a good bowel movement. You feel better, lighter, more energetic and happier. How many of you can honestly tell me a really good poo doesn't make you feel like a million bucks? Just look at your average dog. Slow and mopey till he gets outside. After he's done dropping his load, he comes back in the house and tears around like nothing is wrong on this earth. I truly believe, that if everyone has at least one good bowel movement once a day and EVERY day, there would be much less war and violence on this planet.

But what makes a good poo? There are several things. It must have good volume. It must have the perfect consistency, and it must come out all in one big piece. It must not stink too much, and there should be little or no clean up needed afterwards. Most importantly, it must slide out quickly and with little effort. If it is the perfect poo, your bung hole will flutter with contentment and you'll feel light enough to float for at least the next 30 minutes.

Not every poo is a good poo. One of my least favorite poo's is the wipe forever poo. In this case, you just cannot get clean! Wipe after wipe after wipe, its just as dirty as the last one. Half a roll of toilet paper is spent just getting clean enough to pull up your pants to walk over to the nearest shower.

Then of course there is the movement where a little teeny piece is left. You can feel it there, hanging, refusing to drop, teasing you. You know that if you try to remove it with TP, it'll just make a huge mess all over the place. So there you are, with a itsy bitsy turd hanging off your bum like a butterfly cocoon hangs off a branch, shifting with the breeze. That's where the wiggle comes in. You sit there on the can, wiggling in every direction, left, right, up, down, side to side, doing the modified running man just to get this piece of poo to drop off your bum.

Don't you just hate the phantom poo? You have to go and NOW, and the only thing that comes out is a fart? Just plain old disappointment.

One of the most annoying is the "i'm not done yet". You think you're finished, you clean up, you're just about ready to flush, and BOOM! You sit back down to a poo that says to you "Sorry I'm late, did I miss anything?". This jerk is usually accompanied by two or three more poops that just can't find the accelerator pedal on the highway of the large intestine.

Let's not talk about the diaretic poops.

Of course, there's the floater poo. Those poops that float on the top of the bowl like displaced tree branches, just daring you to try and flush them. "Go ahead" they say, "Just when you think you got us down the bowl, at least one of us is actually hiding, waiting to float up and leave the next person a present".

All in all, please be sure to use a courtesy flush if you're using a guest bathroom. If not to save yourself some embarrassment, at least out of respect for the toilet owner. To those who like to host, please, PLEASE make sure you have LOTS of toilet paper within easy reach! You never know when you or your guests are going to have a wipe forever poop! There's nothing more embarrassing than having to excuse yourself early just because of a dirty bum.

Thank you for reading the above self indulgence. I'd like to dedicate this to my father, who has an appreciation for the finer side of bathroom humour. Stay tuned for public bathroom etiquette!

Spazoid's Christmas Quiz of Debauchery

Being a festive and happy time of year, I thought it might be time for a little fun. Therefore, I bring you the first (and maybe only) edition of SPAZOID'S CHRISTMAS QUIZ OF DEBAUCHERY!

For those who wish to participate, the game is very simple. Look at the following animal, and guess what it is. The winner gets either nothing, or a big wet sloppy kiss after I've eaten a bowl of Christmas Curry. So here goes, name this animal!



Ok, a big hint here: This is the SPAZOID'S CHRISTMAS QUIZ OF DEBAUCHERY! If your answer seems G rated, you're probably wrong.

Happy guessing!

Poo Coffee

As my loyal and regular reader(s?) know, I recently had a birthday and turned old. Part of any decent birthday is birthday gifts, and this one was no exception. I'm not a particularly needy guy, and I always ask for no gifts. Also, I'm an ass and I don't deserve it. Regardless, every time, I get nice gifts. I think next year I'm going to ask everyone to pitch in and get me a Ferrari, so no one actually bothers getting me anything.

One gift stood out among the rest. My mom's crazy fun friend "S", has an awesome sense of humour, way down low in the gutter, somewhere where mine hangs out. Well, not as low as mine, but she is a 48 year old mom of two. Anyways, we often trade dirty off colour jokes that makes my mom blush and my dog cover her ears. She got me the best gift I've gotten.

Poo coffee.

Seriously. I opened the gift bag, and there was a coffee grinder. SWEET! I love coffee, and now I can buy the good stuff and grind my own. Thanks S! But no, it wasn't over yet. There was still something else in the bag.

It was a bag of whole coffee beans. Cool, cool, she gave me coffee beans to grind up in the grinder. Sweet, right on. But these beans were not Nabob, or After Eight, or anything like that. It was called Luwak Coffee.

Luwak Coffee is something known as animal coffee. Basically, you get an animal to eat coffee beans, then you sort through their poop, wash them off, and sell them to dumbass rich people for $1000.00 a kilogram. This particular animal is called a civet, some sort of weird Indonesian cat. They claim the coffee tastes better, less bitter, the digestive juices take out the bitter or some such.

So, me being the guy that I am, try it. Just for comparison, see below the picture of coffee beans on the top and cat poo coffee beans on the bottom, and note the difference:



Can you see the difference? I can't.

So, I put the cat poo coffee beans into the grinder, ground them up, put them in my coffee maker, and plugged it in. The first thing I noticed was the aroma of coffee mixed with poo. I just love it when my house smells like poo! At the very least, it makes it easy to dump someone. After smelling your poo house, she'll actually dump you. It's done, and SHE looks like the ass, allowing you to date her friends if you wish, but I digress.

I poured myself a cup and took a sip. Yes, there was a coffee taste in there. But there was a much stronger, over powering taste that went along with it. Can you guess what that taste might be?

At a grand a kilo, this is the stuff of rich people. Interesting isn't it. Who else would pay the average man's monthly take home pay for coffee that tastes like poo and consider it a delicacy? Rich people are just grasping at more and more straws to fake superiority, aren't they?

S, THANK YOU. That was the best laugh I've had all year! I'm sorry that I probably won't be drinking any more of that coffee. Well, maybe next time I'm at your place I'll do the brewing. In the meantime, I'm off to purchase some poor man's coffee beans that haven't been digested by an Indian cat first.

Barnyard Brawl

My border terrier is 17.5 lbs of pure muscle, with an attitude to match. Pound for pound, there are no tougher dogs than terriers, and mine is no exception. She can keep pace with much larger dogs, jump, turn on a dime, and she has teeth comparable to a small german sheppard. She can hold her own, and has a preference to play with the bigger dogs. This weekend was no exception.

A friend of the family has a farm, with a HUGE massive doberman farm dog. Tyson weighs in at about 120 lbs, and has a head the size of a dinner plate. This is not the dog Jinx plays with (he likes to put her in his mouth, she's not a huge fan of that). It's his daughter, Layla, that's Jinx's good buddy.

Six months ago was the first time that Jinx and Layla met. Layla was maybe three or four months old and only three times the size of Jinx. Since this was Jinx's first trip to the fenced pen, she completely ignored Layla (much to Layla's dismay) to try and find weak links. One of the things Jinx is very good at is finding security breaches so she can go terrorize other farm animals or young children in the neighborhood. Satisfied that there were no penetrable four inch gaps in, around or under the fence, Jinx turned her attention to poor Layla. Not that Layla minded, both played for hours tirelessly with much growling and running around.

This weekend, Jinx met Layla again, for the second time. This time, Layla weighed in at about 90 lbs and towered over poor Jinx. Jinx not being one for intimidation, picked up exactly where they had left off six months ago. It was a bit different this time, Jinx had to jump up a bit to bite at Laylas lip to wrestle her to the floor.

These two were happily wrestling away. Growls abounded and dirt flew as the tan body and black bodies tumbled through the farm muck. This attracted the attention of the residents of the neighboring pen. The cow wandered over to the fence line, put her head down and stared intently at the show. Shortly thereafter she was joined by a sheep, a horse, and then a second sheep. All these barnyard animals watched the action intently and without straying while the two dogs wrestled. I can just imagine the conversation that was taking place among them. Animals can talk ok? If Disney says so it MUST be true! Anyways, here's the conversation as I imagine it.

Cow: Ed! Ed get over here!
Sheep#1: What is it Beatrice?
Cow: Look! Look! You'll never believe it!
Sheep#1: Holey crap! Is it...
Cow: Yea! Two predators and they're beating up on EACH OTHER!
Sheep#1: Waitaminute, aren't they supposed to be busy weeding out our weak?
Cow: Yea. Hey, maybe Dicky knows. Hey Dicky!
Horse: Yea, Beatrice?
Cow: Do you know why these two predators are fighting?
Horse: I'm guessing it's this weird thin long thing that makes us hurt when we touch it.
Sheep#1: How do you mean?
Horse: I'm guessing the ugly hairless animal that won't shut up put it up so these predators can't get us.
Cow: So, you're saying they're so hungry they've turned on each other?
Horse: Sure looks like it.
Sheep#1: I don't know about you guys, but I'm thinking that the little itty bitty one is going to have one hell of a meal
Cow: Yea, looks like it's winning eh? Still, it's going to be a long fight the way their going.
Sheep#1: Aww crap. Guys, disperse, look away, pretend you're chewing your cud
Horse: Why?
Sheep#1:Shit, too late. My retarded brother is making his way over.
Cow: Man, that guy is such a downer!
Sheep#2: Baaaaaaaa! Baaa Baaa Baaaaaaaaaa!
Sheep#1: Ba! Ba! That's all you can fucking say is Ba! What the hell is your problem!
Sheep#2: Baaaaa!
Horse: See sheep, I told you your mom and dad are brother and sister!
Sheep#1:Shut up man, or I'll tell everyone about the time you humped the sow!
Horse: Ed!
Cow: Hahahahahaha! Horse, you fucked a pig!
Horse: Yea, well, at least I didn't screw a cow!
Cow: Not with an itty bitty little 3 foot penis like that you're not!
Sheep#1:Hey guys, look! The little one's got the big one on her back!
Horse: Yay! Ok little guy, go in for the kill and make the world just a bit safer for us herbivores!
Sheep#2: Baaa!Baaaa!
Sheep#1:Shut up retard!
Cow: Somethings wrong.
Horse: What?
Cow:The little one is backing off and letting the big one up. Now their fighting again!
Sheep#1: You know, there's no blood. Shouldn't there be blood by now?
Horse: Yea, WTF?
Sheep#2: BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Sheep#1, Horse, Cow: SHUT UP RETARD!
Cow: Hey, maybe if we all sit still and stare right at them they'll get it in gear and kill each other.
Horse: Yea, let's do that.
Sheep#2: BAA.....
Horse: (Kicks him in face), that'll shut you up
Sheep#1: Thank you!
Cow: Shit! Here comes one of those weird hairless animals! Everybody look bovine!
Cow: Mooo!
Horse: Neiiigghhh!
Sheep#1: Baaaa
Sheep #2: BAAAAAAAAAA BAAAAAAAAAABAAAAAAAABAAAAAAAA!
Me: Man, that sheep is kind of retarded, eh? Ok Jinx, let's go inside!
Horse: Hey! That little one is going in that big well lit cave with the hairless animal! But the fight wasn't over!
Cow: Huh?
Horse: The fight!
Cow: Oh, sorry, been chewing my cud for the last 10. What fight?
Horse: Screw this. Come on Sheep, let's go fuck some pigs
Sheep#1: I don't want to screw Beatrice!
Cow: I fucking hate you, Ed

In the end, Jinx and Layla called it even and the barnyard animals dispersed to do their own thing. I'm looking forward to the next time, I'm betting the action will get even better!

My dog is the cutest.

Everybody that has a dog KNOWS that theirs is the cutest. Well, it doesn't really matter because mine IS the cutest. Let's have a look:

I like bones.

All of these are MINE, comprende?
Can I have a cookie, PLEASE?!?!?!?

COOKIE COOKIE COOKIE COOKIE COOKIE!
Thanks Daddy!
Seriously, if you don't put that camera down i'm going to bite your nards off, OK?
I don't care that it's hot outside. This new haircut makes me practically naked. How embarrassing.Ok Ok, you're right, my new haircut makes me look SEXY. Seriously, I'm too sexy for this collar. Too sexy for this collar. Too sexy for this collar. Whatcha think about that?

There you have it. You've seen the rest, now you've seen the best. Hope you enjoyed these pictures as much as I enjoy having the cutest dog in the world!