Canadiana

Recently, Manitoba Lenny called me up with some good news. He didn't want to tell me over one of the four telephones in Canada, so we agreed to meet at Canada's coffee shack.

Spazoid: Hi Manitoba Lenny, how is it going?
Lenny: Good. Guess what happened to Alberta Steve!
Spazoid: What?
Lenny: He finally had a son!
Spazoid: That's great!
Lenny: Yea, him and his wife, Yukon Susan, have been trying for years.
Spazoid: What's he going to name him?
Lenny: Steve, after him!
Spazoid: That moron!
Lenny: What?
Spazoid: How the hell are we going to differentiate between them if there are TWO Alberta Steves!
Lenny: Oh.

But I don't want you to think Canada is full of idiots. To redeem us, I'd like to make tribute to some of our most intelligent and influential Canadians.

British Columbia Bart, Canada's Quantum Physicist:

PEI Paddy, Chief of Police:

Manitoba Marty, Investigative Reporter:

Saskatchewan Sandy, Molecular Biologist:

Ontario Orville, Artist and Philosopher:
Quebec Randy, Weapons Specialist and Head of the Peacemakers Corps:

And finally, one of our most famous and influential Canadians, Celine Dion:



I hope seeing some of our most intelligent and famous people will help help with the stereotype that Canada is backwards and it's people are idiots.

May Zeus bless Canada.

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If you liked the above, you may also like:

Trip with the dog
Dangers of Canadian Animals
Why you don't want to live in Canada
Dating perils of the small town
Dreams of the Big City

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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If you liked the above, you may also like:

Canadian Animals
The dating perils of the small town
CSI Brantford
Small Town Idiot
My dog is the cutest

The technology of English

My old man had decided it was time for a new computer. I don't know if it was because he was tired of getting the punch cards mixed up, or if he wanted to reclaim a thousand square feet of his house, but it was time.

You have to understand, dad hasn't progressed technologically since 1969. He still wants to know how they make those teeny tiny little vacuum tubes that go into IPODS and LCD TVs. So when he decided it was time for a new machine, he entrusted it to me. He asked me if it would cost more than $100,000 and if he would have to clear out the basement.

In retrospect, I should have said yes and paid off my mortgage. Still, I like to imagine myself to be a good person. I try anyways.

Theres a really awesome computer store I go to in a nearby city. It takes about a half hour to drive there, but it's definitely worth it. They always have lots of stock, their prices are good, the staff is knowledgeable and they are open on Saturday's. The downside? They're from either India or Pakistan, and all of them have extremely thick accents.

Having done my homework, I already knew what I wanted and I walked in and asked them for it, by model number. They understand me as well as I understand them, so after a few confused verbal exchanges I show them the computer I wanted on their own website.

The store clerk told me they had a better machine for less money already built on that shelf over there. Well, that's what he tried to say. What I heard was this:
"Dip monga holla bana dip dooly nipple mattta bannanna fwanna drools!"

After a few minutes of frustrated exchanges, I finally understood what he meant. Looking at the machine, it was indeed a better machine for less money. I was instantly impressed, this man valued customer happiness over making more money. I wouldn't have known the difference anyways. This just reinforced my liking of this particular store.

I noticed that the machine had windows Vista on it. I didn't want Vista, so I asked him if I could get Windows XP instead.
"dunga matta dip longa whoona fwunga darcheese," came the reply.

I eventually translated that to mean he'd give me the XP liscence in exchange for the Vista liscence, and a burnt windows CD.

"Great!" I said, "I'll buy it!"

And he heard

"sping boggin wanta funna billo fuming abtoooo."

Half an hour later, after all the appropriate translations, I walked out with the machine tucked under my arm.

I got the computer set up and working, with virus software, Microsoft Office and every bell and whistle they'd need. Now comes the fun part, all the phone calls. How do you do this? Why did the machine do that? Training my parents is always fun.

The moral of the story? I'm going to learn Hindu for next time I have to go to this store. It's a great store, and I'm pretty sure learning their language would SAVE time. At least, I think it will.

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If you liked the above, you may also like:

A guide to the dangers of Canadian animals
High time for high school
Spazoid's 100th post!
Things I notice
Business Proposal!

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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If you liked the above, you might also like:

The dating perils of the small town
Why you don't want to live in Canada
To be the Canadian
Those lousy telemarketers!
Small Town Idiot

Why you don't want to live in Canada

I woke up this morning, and this is what I saw outside my house:

Oh good. It's well into March and I get to do MORE SHOVELING. Ever the optimist, my dog rushes outside and buries her head in the snow, probably trying to dig out the half eaten lunch some little turd chucked onto my lawn on the way to school.
But even she got sick of the snow, mustering a classic "WTF is this shit still DOING here still?!?!" look:
In classic dog fashion, she figured that if she tried to kill the shovel, the snow wouldn't come any more. After all, when the snow comes, the shovel is out; if the shovel is dead, maybe the snow won't come?
You'll also notice the accumulation after I was done shoveling. This is 6 minutes worth of pile up. I can't wait to shovel again today! And the five times after it!

You'll notice that the snow is piled about 1/4 of the way up the side of my neighbors house. My plan, if this continues, is to burrow into that pile and stay there until it melts. It'll save heat and hydro (which I'm going through like fucking water).

In November, when this shit first started, I was meticulous. The sidewalks were completely clear, and so was my driveway.

Now, whoever wants to walk past my house gets a path cleared the WIDTH OF MY SHOVEL. And I clear the driveway so that it will be relatively snow less a foot on either side of my truck, so I can gain momentum down the driveway to clear the giant snow hump that is my street.

We're hoping that this will ease up sometime by April.

So, who wants to move to Canada?

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Spazoid apologizes for the above life type blog. He knows that nobody wants to hear about that shit, and they would rather hear humorous probably not true stories of comedic observation he usually writes about. He also apologizes for the horrible stupid gross out post that preceded this one. Spazoid is in a bit of a mood. Stay tuned for regularly scheduled programming.

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IF you liked the above, you might also like:

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My blog rating, part 2
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Tag, you're it, again!

The dating perils of the small town

Today, I was reading a post on a blog called Chelsea talks smack. It was about her, and her dating problems in New York City. According to her, most of the available men have some sort of sexually transmitted disease and she's not TOUCHING that. I did manage to find a male NYC blogger by the name of Unadater. Perusing his blog, it does seem likely that he has some sort of ghonnaherpesipylaids, or at the very least pubic lice the size of guinea pigs. Her hardships were backed up by one of her commenter's, a fellow female NYC residence, who gave a statistic that there are 770,000 more females in and around NYC than males.

That makes for some pretty harsh odds.

While I feel for Chelsea's plight, I am by nature a selfish son of a bitch (as you might tell by my incredibly self indulgent posts), and would like to talk about the dating scene where I am.

Firstly, you must understand the Country where I live. Canada is an extremely socialist country. We're no communist former U.S.S.R. by any means, but if Marx were alive today, he would probably look at Canada and say "yes, you are definitely heading in the direction of what I had in mind." Think of Canada of the love child of the United States and Communist China, conceived while Sweden did a reach around and Britain teabagged on the lot of us. We're a pretty harsh political leftie sort of place, while still retaining the greed and corruption of the capitalist first world.

In the large urban centers, this kind of world creates a fast paced rush of hard working business types who can easily afford their government sucking back 50% of their yearly income. These types tend to cast their votes in the liberal rankings, because a liberal government means more tax breaks for their giant corporate conglomerations, as well as large write offs for personal businesses. Of course, if you are a "friend" of the corrupt liberal government, you are awarded lucrative government contracts that by pass the usual tendering process, but a rant on criminal governments is for another day.

Rural Canada is a bit different. Because the local economy is slower and laxer, we have a whole populace of people who make suckling of the countries welfare teat a full time occupation. It's not a glamorous lifestyle per say, but these are not glamorous people. Our first world society has created a huge entitlement complex, and people think that they are all owed something for nothing. Coupled with the extremely generous welfare system (that is easy scam if you know what you are doing), we have a whole class of people who would rather receive "free money" then do all the menial jobs that are available and need to be done. These jobs are filled by the hard working overseas immigrants who are flooding our country at an alarming rate.

Should a woman have a baby, and she doesn't know who the father is, the government gives her money. Sometimes that is true; it's not uncommon for these classless young ladies to have several partners a night. Other times it's not so true, as the baby daddy lives with the mommy until a government representative shows up for a visit. If these people need more money, they have another baby, simple as that.

Welfare checks, subsidized housing and free health care can give these people a carefree life of extreme mediocrity. I would HATE to live that way (these people are still impoverished) but many do not care at all. The worst sufferers of this are the children. Many do not have proper clothing, proper nutrition or proper care, but the worst crime in my opinion is the sense of entitlement indoctrinated to these children. We are now on the fourth generation of this scum like class of people.

Did I mention that my town has a LOT of these?

When I moved back to this town at the age of twenty-six to take a job as the municipal water quality technician (an exciting technical job that was exactly what I was looking for!) it didn't take me long to meet someone. A sophisticated NYC lady would probably regard me as a classless country bumpkin, but to the entitled populace of the dregs of my town, I am a catch. I'm educated, I have a good job, I have a decent vehicle (decent meaning it still has it's muffler and is less than 50% rust), and I own my very own completely detached house. Not only did I have it all, all she has to do is live with me for six months. Then we are regarded as a common law couple, and she could leave and take me for half of what I'm worth (so says Canadian law). Yea, all you have to do is live together for six months and t he Canadian government considers you married. I don't mean to be harsh, but it is a common occurrence here. I stay on my toes because I worked to hard for what I have to be forced to give it to some greedy fucking ass hat looking for a free ride at the sweat of my brow.

Anyways, this girl was twenty nine, slim, and blond. We made a date to go out for coffee. When I arrived at her door, a nine year old girl answered. As it turns out, this was her daughter. I didn't mind that at all. I'm open to someone having a kid, but I'd like to be told about it, naturally. I asked her if she was ready, and she said yes, and her and her daughter came out. I asked her if she had a babysitter for the kid. She said no, it's ok, she'll just come with us. Really, that's not a good first date thing, at least I think so. I told her I didn't mind rescheduling for a time more convenient, but she insisted. As soon as we got to the coffee shop, her kid started tugging on my sleeve and hollering loudly for an ice cap. The next forty minutes was dominated by this super hyped up little girl; it didn't give me a chance to learn anything from the overly oblivious mom. I didn't take her out again, if this was a foreshadow of things to come.

They weren't all this bad, but to sum up my dating experience here to date, I'll tell you about one more. This was a twenty-one year old third generation welfare lifer, who was enamored by me. She had a six month old child, who had been taken away at birth. She was three months pregnant. Both were by different fathers. To make a long story short, I ran for the hills.

To make it fair, and to prevent a horde of angry women spitting rabid comments at me, I'm not saying all people are like the above. It just seems a disproportionate number of people, for economic reasons, like that, live in my town and it seems to be difficult to find a good woman who isn't, at least here. The welfare system is meant as a helping hand from the rest of Canada to someone who has fallen on hard times. I rest easy at night knowing my incredibly high taxes go to do good things, and even give me a safety net to help me back on my feet should I fall on hard times. Many, many people who use it do so only to get back on their feet, and are deserving of help. Not everyone is a scumbag.

Anyways, I would rather remain alone than be stuck with a person who's main goal in life is to drink beer, smoke cigarettes, pretend to look for work and pop out children by different men to get more "free money". I want someone who's ambitions are normal, like mine, who's work ethic is good, like mine, and who thinks about the good of the whole, not just the good of themselves. I know there is someone out there like that! And I'm taking applications!

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If you liked the above, you might also like:

Bathroom Etiquette
Those Dirty Fag Suckers
The absurdity of the Canadian Criminal Code
To be the Canadian
What NOT to say to a woman

Condom Nation

The United States government was in an uproar. The nations largest condom supplier had a huge meltdown of their biggest factory. The breakdown was so severe that it would be weeks, if not months, before the factory could be ramped up to full production again.

Fearing a whole host of unwanted and unplanned births taxing the nations welfare and charity systems to breaking, a shaken President of the United States called the nearest industrialized first world country, Canada, for help.

The Canadian Prime Minister was more than happy to help their nearest and closest ally in their time of need. He promised the President that he would have the Canadian condom factories ramp up production and start shipping in two days time. With all luck, the timing would be such that the American condom market would never know the hit to their supplies.

The Prime Minister hung up the telephone and arranged for an emergency meeting with all of Canada's condom manufacturers. Once the heads of the companies were all seated around a table in Parliament Hill, the explained the situation and the importance of meeting production.

All of the manufacturers agreed to get started immediately. The Prime Minister made one last stipulation. "Gentlemen" he said with a grin, "Every single condom to be shipped to the states, shall be ten inches long, five inches wide, and labeled as Canadian size small".

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

The above story is not true, but is based on a true story. The actual story involved Bill Clinton and some personal lubricant, but that's all I'm authorized to say.

American ladies, there is one thing I want you to know. When you convert from Imperial measurements to Metric measurements, the number increases dramatically. My doors are open to any interested American woman.

The Absurdity of the Canadian Criminal Code

I must apologize for the following content. I know that Spazoid's Space is supposed to be a humour blog, but there is something I must get off my chest.

How would you answer the following statement?

If someone breaks into your home, and you do what it takes to protect your family and yourself, does that make you a criminal?

I answer NO.

The American government answers NO.

The Canadian government answers:

YES.

In Canada, if someone breaks into your home and you take preventative action to ensure the safety of your loved ones, before the CRIMINAL who illegally and forcibly entered your home has the opportunity to cause harm, you are a criminal and you go to jail. For a very long time.

The Canadian Criminal code is exceptionally lenient towards violent offenders, especially first time violent offenders, in the hopes that they can be rehabilitated quickly. Canadian law states that you cannot take action above what an attacker is taking to subdue him. If someone pushes you down on the street, you cannot do more than push him back. If he punches you, you can only punch him back - once. If he stabs you in the gut, you can take higher action to protect yourself - only if he's already stabbed you, if you aren't laying in the ditch bleeding, that is. Even then, if you manage to hurt him to stop his attack on yourself and possibly others, after you are done your hospital stay (should you survive) you will be sitting in the defendants chair in a Canadian courtroom.

This applies to any situation, including in your own home.

This means that in the past, people have been doing nothing more than trying to protect themselves have gone to prison as criminals. Doesn't that make you sick? I know it really angers me.

I especially have a problem with this as it applies to the breaking and entering of your home.

I recognize that most people who do this are only looking to steal things to make money. They target homes when they know people aren't home. They don't carry weapons, and usually a simple HEY! will send them packing.

That's not the situation every time.

If you catch someone breaking into your home, you have to assume his intent is hostile. Why else would he forcibly enter your home? You don't know if he has a weapon, what his intent is, if he'll do anything to get your stuff to sell for his next crack fix, if he's thinking clearly or not.

How long do you have to decide how to act if someone breaks into your home?

The answer is just a split second.

You can't ascertain if he wants to steal something, if he wants to rape your wife or daughter, if he's high on something and thinks he's Harry Potter come to save the world by killing the evil wizard, YOU, in his mind. You just don't know. You do know that his intent is NOT good. When someone forces their way into your home, their intent is CRIMINAL right off the hop.

About a decade ago in my county, a drunk man entered someones home in the middle of the night carrying a knife. He wandered around, found their teen aged daughters bedroom, stabbed her in the stomach, and left.

Had the house owner found this man before he got to the daughters bedroom, knife in hand, and shot him or beat him to submission with a baseball bat, according to Canadian law the house owner would be serving a decade or two for manslaughter. The criminal would be walking the streets in months.

We need to treat criminals as criminals and victims as victims. If you need to take action to ensure your families safety in a home invasion that results in the injury or death of the person breaking in, YOU are STILL the VICTIM and he is STILL the CRIMINAL.

We MUST allow taxpaying and law abiding citizens to reasonably protect themselves from criminals. We MUST change the law. We must recognize intent and appropriate action, and we must understand the circumstances involving a break in.

Please do not misunderstand me. I'm not lobbying for a gun in every house hold, or the right to kill someone unchecked should they enter your property without permission. I'm asking that we do not make victims criminals, and allow house owners reasonable opportunity to protect themselves and their families without the concern of spending time in jail. I'm asking for Canadians to be able to act properly without freezing in confusion, in worry that their protective actions will make them a criminal.

It's time for us law abiding Canadian taxpayers to take action. We must be able to not worry about protecting our loved ones, and the consequences from the government for doing so. Can you imagine a family with a dead child, and a husband in jail for life, while the real criminal walks the streets?

What kind of justice is that?

I call on all concerned Canadians to tackle our overly liberal and lax attitude towards protecting the wrong and punishing the victims. I call for everyone who is concerned to write letters to their MP's. Bombard them. Make them see that we will not be made victims of any more. Show them that we are proud of what we worked for an will not allow criminals and our own government to push us in the mud.

For the sake of our loved ones, we need to be able to protect them without fear of unjust reprisal from the government!

Thank you to all who would listen. If you are Canadian and concerned, please forward this short article to all you think would benefit from it.

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

To the big cities

This weekend I went to a Toronto Raptors game, you guessed it, in Toronto. I'm still alive, wasn't mugged, stabbed, or hit with a stray bullet in a gang bang drive by. Guess karma isn't all that it's cracked up to be, eh?

As I'm driving in, I noticed a van on the highway. It was an older van, banged up, beaten, dented, scraped, you name it - and it looked like it hadn't been washed in years. The kicker? It had signed on the windows and side that said "Jerry's Auto Detailing". I guess life dyslexic people need to work too, right?

Me and my buddy are at a restaurant. I hear the guy next to me say "I'm going to go up to the bar and ask that guy out." I have nothing against gay people, but man, that's just not something us small city folks hear every day.

And why is it that whenever I go to a sporting event, my seat is right below the braindead dolt that yells "DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENCE! DEFENCE!" every 30 seconds? I've changed my mind. Karma does catch up to me sometimes.

Well, I'm off to Niagara Falls this week for training, so don't be too upset if I don't post. If you don't already, make sure you read ALL of the blogs on my link list on a REGULAR basis, OK? There's some good shit there, I promise!

CSI Brantford

I live in Brantford, a small, whitey WASPY town in the middle of Ontario's green belt. In every way, Brantford is the backwards, sloppy idiot town akin to the United State's deep south, except we don't have inbreeding and most of us have all our teeth and don't own stills in the bush.

The other night I was watching CSI New York. These guys are friggin amazing! Obviously, New York City is going to have one hell of a budget to buy the best of the best of equipment, and hire the best of the best of forensic scientists for cops. Yes, I know it's a show, but there is probably some truth reflected in what they show on T.V., with it being a huge money making city.

These guys extract finger prints from every conceivable space, DNA from such obscure items as gum and 2 year old dried up invisible spit stains. They derive evidence from a dropped bird feather and a tiny piece of rubber embedded into a victims scrotum. Enough evidence to not only conclusively prove who the killer is, but to make him confess in a blubbery emotional outburst towards the end of the show.

Oh, and before I go on I'd just like to say Anna Belknap is really, really hot. I don't know why, but that is just my type of chick!

Anyways, This got me to thinking. What would a CSI investigation be like in my small town of Brantford? I'm sure the forensics budget is low and we already know all the best forensic scientists go to CSI NY and Miami and the such.

With that in mind, I betting a Brantford murder investigation might go like this:

Detective 1: What do we have here?
Detective 2: It's horrible. It looks like he choked to death.
Detective 1: On what?
Detective 2: (pulls out an item from the victims throat) Umm, zig zags and a welfare stub
Detective 1: Hang on, let me go put on some stomping Tom while we investigate.
Detective 2: WTF??????
Detective 1: I saw it on CSI. Their forensics guys always figgure out really tough things while music is playing in a really quick way.
Detective 2: (rolls eyes) Ok, the victim has no I.D., looks to be in his late 30's, huge beer gut, hasn't showered in days, has a mullet, and is wearing swim trunks, flip flops and a stained wife beater. I don't recognize the face because it's too swelled from a herpes outbreak.
Detective 1: Shit, no I.D., he could be ANYBODY in this town!
Detective 2: Wait, I found keys to an 80's style camaro
Detective 1: Earl, start narrowing it down already!
Detective 2: Wait, wait, I think I found something
Detective 1: What is it?
Detective 2: Look, it's crumbs from a mostly eaten Tim Hortons french cruller. Only one person in this town eats those!
Detective 1 & 2 together: CHARLENE!
Detective 1: Looks like we got ourselves a crime of passion. Let's go talk to Charlene.
Detective 2: She could be anywhere!
Detective 1: I'll go to the casino, you start checking out the McDonalds. We're bound to find her.

Boy, I hope I don't die of criminal causes, and if I do, I hope it's in New York, so the cast of CSI can find the real killer in less than an hour's time.

Cute Cuddly Little Bear!

Anybody who has any knowledge of bears, and especially polar bears, knows a few honest truths about the animals.

• They are BIG
• They are POWERFUL
• They are always HUNGRY
• They don't have much of a SENSE OF HUMOUR
• Anything smaller than them is FOOD
• They are usually pretty grumpy

If you are in northern Canada and see a polar bear, and it sees you, and comes over to investigate, you'd better hope you have high powered rifle with you. Drop the damned thing before it gets too close (they are very fast too). When Les Stroud, brains behind the survival series Survivorman, went into the Arctic for a week, he was given a rifle. He's not supposed to have much in the way of gear, but the Canadian authorities wouldn't let him go without one. The bears are that much of a threat to human saftey.

When I ran across these pictures, I was shocked. To be sure, this is a one off, and probably hasn't happened before and will probably never happen since. The pictures show a curious polar bear playing with a sled dog. PLAYING. I guess this bear had a full stomach, and wanted to cuddle up to a cute furry little 120lb dog. These pictures show the bear and dog playing together like dogs play! Just incredible. I hope you all enjoy these pictures as much as I did.

Lesbians - A quick one for saturday

Friends of my family have a daughter that decided to jump the fence, play for the other team, go for her own kind, bury her face in the rug permanently.... if you don't get my drift she likes other women.

During the last federal election, it was abundantly clear that the Conservatives, Canada's left winger party, were going to attain power according to the running polls. One of the campaign promises was that they were going to abolish the legal right for gays to be married, which spurred many, many rushed gay and lesbian marriages. The family friend's daughter was among them, and she was married to her huswife, Amanda. For those of you who care, the conservative party did attain minority power. The gay lesbian marriage right was put to parliament vote, and parliament voted to keep allowing everybody the right to marriage, as it should be.

Now, Amanda is your typical bull dyke. She's HUGE, her shoulders are big and square, her hair is also square and short, and stands at attention, her arms bristle with manly like muscle and she's got facial hair that teenage boys would die for. She's DEFINITELY the husband in that marriage.

Being a County employee and the mischievous jerk that I am, I went crawling through the County records and found their wedding license. I found that her name was not spelled Amanda. It was a very different spelling that made perfect sense. Ready for this?

AMANduh.

If you didn't get that, just give it a minute to sink in.

I hope nobody expected ever single one of my blogs to be PC!

And the winner is!

Well, the wait is over, and the Ontario 2007 provincial election results are in. And guess who won! Dalton McGuinty is premier again. Surprise surprise. Ontario is a liberal province, always has been, always will be. The PC's did make some gains though, just not enough. The liberals have 71 seats, PC's 26, NDP 10, and the Green party NONE (oo, surprise), giving the liberals a majority government AGAIN.

Via the liberal palm greasing to GTA corporate, it had that vote locked in. More broken promises lulled the weak willed into a false sense of security, and yet others vote liberal not wanting to lean too far left or right (as if the liberal government didn't lean at all).

I guess out of the options of asshole and idiot, us Ontarians prefer the liar and thief. Well, here we go with another term of broken promises, too many taxes and Dalton and his band of liberal thugs padding their wallet with my hard earned tax dollar.

There is one good thing that came out of this, the liberal fueled (in my opinion) referendum was kicked to the curb. 101 ridings said a vehement NO! to the new way of voting, and a piddly 6 said yes please, lets ensure liberal majorities!

Ces't la vie. Onto bigger and better things, now that this cluster fuck is behind us, for now. Oh, did you hear? With waning support for the liberal feds now that poutine Dion is leader, PM Harper is pushing for another election. Way to go for the majority, you Bush kissing robot! Yes, I love everybody.

Introduce the candidates

Well, election day is finally here. For all of us who live in Ontario, it's time to vote your favorite candidate in. Will we re elect liberal Dalton McGuinty? Or will we have a progressive conservative John Tory taking the helm? Maybe NDP Howard Hampton will take the reigns or green party hopeful Frank De Jong. Myself, I'm waffling between McGuinty and Tory. I really don't know yet, probably won't till I get to the polls.

The candidates themselves? Well many describe it as selecting the lesser evil. You have to make informed choices on the core values of the candidates. Liberal leaders want equality for all, conservative want tax dollars better spent. The green party wants cleaner water, air and soil at the sacrifice of the economy, and the NDP want more money given to the Canadian workforce at the expense of the economy (except they don't know that their plans will destroy it).

But really, it boils down to whose face you like the best. With that in mind, here are the candidates pictures, and really, a picture says a thousand words. I hope looking at them might give you a better understanding as to what they are really all about.





On second thought, is this guy running? He's probably better than all of them.





Anyways, let's all go out and vote. Because if we don't, we don't have a right to bitch about how much of a loser the other guy that got in was!

Ontario's Referendum

On October 10th, 2007, the Ontario provincial elections will take place.

I have (had) my favorite party, which I've switched up due to another topic I'll deal with in a bit. For the mean time, I'd like to talk about this referendum.

The referendum will be on the voting system of Ontario itself. Usually it's first past the post, meaning the party with the most seats based on their constituencies wins regardless of the popular vote. The referendum will add a second voting area, so you can vote for your local candidate and your party. This means you're voting for two seats in the legislature, one which goes to the winning local MPP and the other going to 39 mystery spots, to be awarded on a popular vote percentage by the various parties.

This new system will give the popular vote credence and power.

For example, municipality "A" could have 50,000 people, municipality "B" 100,000 people, and municipality "C" 1,000,000 people.

Municipality "A" votes in the "BLUE" candidate with 25,001 votes, "B" the "BLUE" candidate with 50,001 votes, and municipality "C" votes in the "RED" candidate with 900,001 votes. Even though the "RED" party got 824,999 MORE votes in total than the "BLUE" candidate, the blue candidate won more seats in legislature so gets to form a government.

There are some things I don't like about this new system being proposed.

1. 39 seats in legislature that do not have to answer to a constituency
2. an additional 12 million dollars of taxpayer money going to salary these new seats
3. the fact that the GTA has the lion share of the people, does NOT represent the needs of the entire province, and has the ability to dominate the polls

Based on the above, I'm voting to keep the old system in place. I feel it gives better representation to the province as a whole come election day, and we do NOT need to pump any more money into the politicians themselves (ahhhummmm liberal scandal snnarchh sponsorship ahum!).

I don't think it really matters though, because the referendum needs 60% of the popular vote to implement the new system. Most people I know of haven't heard of this system, don't really care, and if this is news to them at the polls, they'll probably stick with the old system rather than voting for something they don't have any clues about.

Besides, if it does go through Parliament has until 2008 to erect a statute governing it and we all know how fast Queen's Park DOESN'T go!

I'm looking for some opinions and refutations to mine. Anyone game?