Twenty oscar niner

The new year is upon us like a fat lover. Unlike most years, I actually enjoyed (didn't hate) this past one, so I embrace this upcoming year with a bit of ambivalence. In fact, I'm going to resist it as long as possible. This protest will take the form of writing stale-dated cheques and constantly referring to the Vancouver Olympics as "two years away".

It's not that I fear the future, but more specifically: events in the future. In fact, my prediction is that 2009 is going to suck. Mark my words, this will be a year full of:

• Terrorist or terrorist-related news stories
• An unpredictable financial market
• Deaths of noteworthy people (both expected and unexpected)
• A medium-sized disaster of some kind
• Car accidents
• Lists
• Et cetera
  

But I don't know what the future holds for me. After seven consecutive weeks of convalescence (and sobriety!) one's outlook becomes dimmed, like the view from underneath a fat lover. Here are my resolutions for 2009:

1. Make the content on this blog interesting for a change (maybe?)
   
2. Replace my skepticism with a combination of asceticism and mysticism
3. Refer to myself in the fourth person (whenever it figures out what that is)
4. (Finally) sign up for those Esperanto classes
5. Start smoking (so I have a resolution for next year. In billiards this is called "setting up your next shot".)
   
6. Get a girl preggers then 'bort that shit/Then I'm a write it all down and rap 'bout it
   
7. Start a drunken fight in a bar but get out of it using a cockney accent and a lead pipe
8. Grow my religion; apply for tax credits
9. Run (the interesting part of) a marathon
10. Perfect the omelette

It's a good start at least. To the century, I mean. The naughts have been hot, I must admit. Let's hope we can round this decade out with a modicum of dignity, as doubtful as that prospect is.

Happy new year!

Reasons for committing suicide

Even more reasons to end it all:

• Zigged when you should have zagged
• Tried ordering a "Chazo Tai" at Starbucks
• Partially responsible for global warming
• Shoelace broke
• Can't find that damned pen anywhere, and seriously, it was right here a minute ago. Are you sure you didn't take it?
• Used an expired coupon
• Faced fears and lost
• Completely misinterpreted the teachings of Confucius
• Used an expired condom
• Left the world's worst voice mail
• Ate questionable dairy

S.O.B.ituary

It is with a noticeable amount of regret and mild sadness

The Kornbluth family and Kellogg's of Battle Creek

Announce the sudden passing of Harvey Kornbluth

Harvey kicked it on Monday, November 10, 2008

Kind of peacefully, but you could hear it

After a short Illness

That seemed to last forever

 Even though he went to the doctor three times and they gave him antibiotics

Still, nothing

Jeers and cheers are to be held on

Tuesday, November 18 from 18:00 - 18:02 at St. Jude's Parish

 Low-sodium snacks will be served

 BYOB

and

The funeral service / PowerPoint presentation of Harvey's Life (entitled: Maverick: The Life and Times of North America's Greatest Maverick)

Will be held on Wednesday, November 19, 2008 from 11:00 -11:33 with a reception to follow at the Toronto Jewish Community Centre

Free holishkes and kasha Prizes for best animal costume

All ages Feat. DJ seals-the-deal, and Arianna

Breakdancing competition to follow reception

Seder to follow breakdancing

No overt displays of emotion please

BYOB

All proceeds will be donated to the estate of Harvey Kornbluth

Another strange interaction between Harvey and the portly store owner

Harvey: I think you should know that I am officially off the market.
Miranda: Off the market?
Harvey: Yeah. I'm through looking. I'm sick of personal ads, blind dates, getting set up, singles events, bookstores, grocery stores, clubs, bars, prostitutes, all of it. I am done.
Miranda: That's not "off the market". That's called "giving up".
Harvey:
Miranda:
Harvey: Sigh. Just this box of facial tissues.

Religion reform #12

The Toucan on night and day (The Toucan's Book, 3rd Ed., 1st chapter):

It's pretty simple so listen carefully. There are two brothers: Alf and Boxcar. One's a turtle and the other is a... I'm pretty sure he's a ferret or something. How are they brothers then? No one knows, they just are. And no, I don't know which one is which. So the first one, the turtle (possibly Alf, possibly Boxcar, I'm not sure) shows up shortly after the Earth was formed. "Damn," he says slowly, because he's possibly a Turtle, "it's pretty dark around here." And he reaches into his shell and pulls out a flashlight. One of those expensive kinds that take C batteries? And he holds it aloft to illuminate the sky.

But then the ferret shows up (Boxcar I think, but again, I'm really not too sure).  And he's late, as is typical of rodents. And as you probably know ferrets have a low tolerance for flashlight light. So he says to the turtle, "Boxcar, get out of the fucking way," (I guess that settles it) and the turtle says back, "I'm sorry, what?" But the ferret, Alf as we have established, is a bit of an asshole, so he starts to slap Boxcar around, and being tired from being up all day, Boxcar's arm drops and the sky becomes dark with night.

Exhausted, the turtle uses this opportunity to sleep while Alf minds the night sky. Alf is a big fan of the stars, and often heard to exclaim: "Sweet Toucan in heaven those stars are gorgeous."

But eventually Alf too grows tired. And when the turtle wakes, he is full of energy and has vengeance on his mind. He swiftly headbutts Alf in the chest, who collapses in pain and relinquishes control of the sky to Boxcar. The turtle raises his torch and it is daytime, once again.

In the winter, Boxcar has to drive his kids to school so it stays darker longer. That is the story of night and day.

 Who knew?

Real letters from real geeks

The World's Worst Resignation Letter

Dear management:

While I'm more or less grateful for all the years of employment (and paycheques) the time has come for yours truly to shut 'er down. Yeah, I gotta quit. Look, I know it's cliché but let's not fuck the babysitter here: it ain't you, it's me, you know?

This company is growing faster than a tumour and I couldn't be more excited. Our stock has increased steadily and investors are shitting themselves like the lunch crowd at the Legion. But related to this growth seems to be an increase in my workload and responsibilities. And to be honest, I'm not really feeling that.

Plus, no one gave a shit about my ideas. My suggestion for a larger fridge in the breakroom was met with guffaws. And when I suggested a Tropical Thursday where we crank the heat and wear bathing suits all day, I was told I was "out of line." It's not like I raped someone. Yet. (Jokes!)

This isn't about money, yo. Put that shit away.

Now, I will sincerely miss everyone. (Even that slut Michelle that everybody hates.) And I hope that my departure doesn't cause too much grief and heartache. Though I have only worked at Mr. Sub for two months now, in that time I feel like we've become a kind of family. I know I'm going to be bummed for a couple of days after my last shift, but don't worry: I'll be sure to visit lots and hit y'all up for some free subs.

Thanks again for the opportunity. I look forward to the free subs.

PEACE,

Harvey

The deliberate march of the ancient Chinese

The Grange does teem of elderly Chinese
Might even say "infested" should you please
But that'd be racist -- so let's say instead
Distressed I am! Behold their languished tread
One never sees them at the gym or pool
Old lives bereft of work or play or school
Can merely pad about the hallway floor
And circumscribe the condo's corridor
And pondering my own time come to that
Pajamas, slippers, solitude, a flat
And mired in constitutionals, oppressed
Our footsteps drag death's hand into our chests
No thanks to walks I shan't the will to live
For that's just holding water with a sieve

Haterade: is it in you?

According to Googlism:

hate is learned and can be "unlearned"
hate is no laughing matter
hate is growing
hate is what resulted in the death of 167 people
hate is truth
hate is hate
hate is wrong
hate is not my rap
hate is hot
hate is a many splendored thing
hate is a union
hate is just a four letter word
hate is not
hate is a strong word

Hate is a strong word. I am frequently reminded of this. Whenever I say things like, "I hate children," or "I hate waking up with a chicken bone in my mouth," or "I hate you, Lucy, I really, really do," someone is quick to point out that, hate is such a strong word. Especially that bitch Lucy.

Apparently "dislike" is more appropriate. That's bullshit. When I say I hate something, I hate it. I know it's a strong word: that's why I used it. I hate eggplant. I hate the teachings of Karl Marx. I hate that Matt LeBlanc appears in movies. I don't merely "not like" these things. And what's worse: I'm supposed to blithely replace "hate" with "dislike"? Why? That's just euphemism. For example:

"I really dislike that the man who raped and then murdered my wife is walking the streets."

Does that make any fucking sense? Folks, we should be free to hate what we hate. Do not accept that we must merely "dislike" or "find distasteful" or "prefer otherwise." Hate! Hate is hate! Fuck me, what else do I hate?

• Softball
• Mac devotees
• Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace
• Roman numerals
• The term "ramp up"
• Poorly wrapped pitas/gyros/shawarma
• French rap
• Eatmore chocolate bars
• Commercials for yogurt
• Illeism
• Fart jokes
• Hearing about your fucking puppies. Lucy, shut the fuck up!
• Patriotic art
• Restaurants where the waiter writes his name on your table
• Pews
• Holier-than-thou attitude of modern homosexuals
• Animals wearing hats
• When post-it notes lose their stickiness
• Cockblockers
• Reality shows starting with "The"
• Lanyards
• One-woman shows
• Barack Hussein Obama
  

Just kidding, that man means Change.

(I also hate change.)

Wild speculation

On the origin of blue whales:

God: Fuck, we have a lot of blubber left over.
God's personal assistant, Tracy: (Sighs.) Yes, sir. We knew we were going to have an excess after the belugas, remember?
God: Right. All right: we're going to build another whale.
Tracy: Sir, with all due respect, we've been making a lot of whales this month and --
God: Fuck it. I'm not getting stuck with all this blubber. We're making a whale and we're making it huge.
Tracy: Yes, sir.

She enters the calculations into her Macbook.

Tracy: How about this? It's significantly bigger than the other specimens.
God: No, no. Make it bigger.
Tracy: Sir?
God: Bigger.
Tracy: OK... how's that?
God: Bigger, damnit.
Tracy: Sir? We've never made an animal this large. Not even the dinosaurs --
God: What part of "bigger" is giving you trouble? Step aside.

God takes the mouse.

Tracy: Uh. Wow. That's... really big.
God: That's what I'm talking about. That's a big fucking fish.
Tracy: Mammal.
God:
Tracy: I beg your pardon, sir.
God: Any ideas for colour? That's not really my department.
Tracy: Blue? I don't know --
God: Done. Blue whale. Name it, make a hundred thousand, move on to birds. I gotta grab some lunch, I'm starving.