Tryptophan the Light Fantastique!
So another Thanksgiving Holiday has flown by like an undercooked turkey in a handglider. The tryptophan has run its course through my body and there is a perfectly fitting body shaped cavity embedded into the couch upholstery where my prone and lethargic body rooted itself for the better part of three days. And during this ceremonious holiday weekend one thing became very certain: that we are all going to Hell in a collective hand basket. So grab your UV sunblock and shower flip-flops cause it’s only a matter of time before we’re all checking in at the Hades ‘Misery Inn’.
What a way to spend three perfectly good days off passing farts and repeatedly working my overused bowels like the bellows at a blacksmith shop: watching CNN! To listen to Anderson Cooper is like having front row tickets to global Armageddon. In the spirit of Thanksgiving I was trying to stay positive and gracious; but what I’m really secretly thankful about this year is a bit more selfish. I am in fact most thankful that I am on my couch, safe in my little apartment, and not out among the other zombies running amok in the streets.
It was already with a strange twist of fate that we began this Holiday week with the deporting of pop singer Cat Stevens from US territory and finally having domestic diva Martha Stewart thrown behind bars at ‘Camp Cupcake’. Well, there’s an enormous leap towards homeland security if ever there was one! If we can now only manage to subvert Courtney Love from public spectacles and figure out a way to assassinate Carrot Top, I’ll consider myself one-fucking-hundred percent secure from terrorist attack!
Most tragic, was the dual bombings of the Hilton Resort in Taba, Egypt and a bungalow campground to the north by terrorists, resulting in the killing 34 people ~ not exactly happy digestive viewing, is it? Egyptian investigators are linking these particular bombings to suspected al-Qaeda members based on similar Modus Operandi’s from past al-Qaeda attacks. Pardon? What exactly was the tip off that clued them in? First you plant the bomb, then you light the fuse, then you run, and BOOM! Start releasing press releases to Anderson Cooper. Am I missing something here? Isn’t that the same fucking Modus Operandi for all terrorist bombings worldwide? I’m quite sure it’s even included in the ‘Anarchists Handbook’ adopted by al-Qaeda, Brigades of the Martyr Abdullah Azzam, Jamaa Al-Islamiya Al-Alamiya, Joe Schmo’s Crusade for Extra Cheese, and every other halfwit activist organization as the official guide to terrorist bombing. What kind of fucking rocket scientist put that profile together? “They used explosives, they targeted innocent civilians, must be al-Qaeda!” Absolute genius strategist there alright.
On another sad note, Superman has passed away. Christopher Reeve died from heart failure at the age of 52 from complications deriving from an infected pressure wound. How shitty is that? He’s been paralyzed in a wheelchair for the past nine years, and the most he’s moved since 2000 was to briefly wiggle his index finger *, and he meets his end at the hands of a bedsore. Drag.
The first democratic elections are being held in Afghanistan this weekend as well. Of course, it’s certain that it will take approximately an eternity by the time the ballots have all been delivered, chiseled out on stone tablets by all the eligible citizens and tribe’s members, and then transported back across the rugged landscape again by donkey before being tabulated for an ultimate result. Final election results are predicted to be available by the year 2063, and of the 14 Presidential candidates, only 4 are expected to still be alive. Onward and upward! I can’t wait to see how this plays out over the next quarter millennia.
Even my own humble homeland of Canada was not spared by the current influx of bad Thanksgiving mojo being experienced all around the globe this particular weekend. Canadian submarine HMCS Chicoutime was crippled while on maneuvers in the North Atlantic off the coast of Ireland after a fire broke out killing one sailor and injuring eight others. Not only was the Chicoutime left dead in the water, it had to be towed back to the nearest base in southwestern Scotland at 3 knots **. Similar fires aboard the HMCS Corner Brook have forced Canadian military to withdraw from service the rest of her submarine fleet to dock as well.
Firstly, let me say on behalf of Canadians everywhere: “Oops. How embarrassing.” Secondly, we have fucking SUBMARINES? We can barely manage to keep our own national airline operating flights normally, and our military has fucking submarines? What the hell do we need submarines for anyways; especially old rickety-ass second hand British submarines that probably still reek of Churchill’s cigar smoke?
Beyond that, what the hell were they doing off the coast of Ireland? It is that our brilliant military strategists have come upon the shocking conclusion that the real future threat of terror is going to be waged with the ‘War on Leprechauns’? I can practically hear the call to arms aboard the Chicoutime echoing on the decks and out across the mean waters of the Irish Sea:
“Cap’n, our sonar is picking up an unknown shamrock-shaped vessel 400 yards off our starboard bow!”
“Very well! Sound the alarm, seal the hatches, extinguish the wienie roast bonfire, and prepare to DIVE!”
“Ay Cap’n!”
Mind you, this is the Canadian military we are talking about here. So maybe like Air Canada, nobody on the world stage will be really much surprised. They’ll just think that we were celebrating a televised curling bonspiel with one too many brewskies and bacon sandwiches and got a wee bit careless in our used dinghies. Those crazy Canucks!
Most interestingly however, and which was not all together unbearable to see unfold on the CNN updates, was the Presidential Debate scandal. Now this is about as juicy as the Butterball that I’m still working through my bowels! Rumors are running rampant about George Bush’s peculiar bulge in the back of his suit jacket during the Presidential Debate. Was it merely just a pucker along the back seam accentuated when he crossed his arms, or was it a secretly concealed radio transmitter wired up underneath his $3000 Savile Row suit jacket? Was George receiving killer lines from his political advisor Karl Rove in his ear, or what he just a victim of fashion faux pas? See what I mean? Juicy!
A spokesperson for Bush even went so far to collect a statement from George’s tailor Georges de Paris, stating the common tailoring defect in that particular style of jacket. Now, you better fucking believe that if I ever spent 3000 dollars on some fancy-ass suit that there had better not be any fucking “puckers” of any sort in any of the seams or heads will fucking roll! And besides, like I’d ever believe what a Bush spokesperson said to me anyway. I wouldn’t be surprised if ‘ol Georges statement was actually extracted in the basement of his tailor shop at gunpoint by two large men in dark sunglasses.
But honestly, of course George Bush was wired. How could he not be? The man hasn’t got the two cents necessary to bend over to tie his own shoelaces let alone debate national political strategy. In fact, I’ll even go one further and suggest that this mysterious pucker in the back of George Bush’s jacket was actually an entire homing beacon so that the answers to his debate questions could be beamed directly into his brainpan from a secret CIA satellite orbiting above in outer space.
Maybe it was the tryptophan in my system, but it sure was a weird weekend in front of the tube for sure. Come Tuesday morning I was waiting for some strange guy dressed all in black to try and convince me to take a red pill. “C’mon Terry, do not try and bend the spoon. That’s impossible. Instead…only try to realise the truth. There is no spoon. Then you’ll see that it is not the spoon that bends, it is only yourself”.
Turkey and CNN may just be my new recreational drug of choice!
* Which I like to think was the result of Christopher trying to give the universal one-fingered response to George Bush’s conservative views on stem-cell research during the 2000 televised Presidential Debate.
** Which is about the same equivalent speed as an 87 yr old grandmother rowing a washing machine.
What a way to spend three perfectly good days off passing farts and repeatedly working my overused bowels like the bellows at a blacksmith shop: watching CNN! To listen to Anderson Cooper is like having front row tickets to global Armageddon. In the spirit of Thanksgiving I was trying to stay positive and gracious; but what I’m really secretly thankful about this year is a bit more selfish. I am in fact most thankful that I am on my couch, safe in my little apartment, and not out among the other zombies running amok in the streets.
It was already with a strange twist of fate that we began this Holiday week with the deporting of pop singer Cat Stevens from US territory and finally having domestic diva Martha Stewart thrown behind bars at ‘Camp Cupcake’. Well, there’s an enormous leap towards homeland security if ever there was one! If we can now only manage to subvert Courtney Love from public spectacles and figure out a way to assassinate Carrot Top, I’ll consider myself one-fucking-hundred percent secure from terrorist attack!
Most tragic, was the dual bombings of the Hilton Resort in Taba, Egypt and a bungalow campground to the north by terrorists, resulting in the killing 34 people ~ not exactly happy digestive viewing, is it? Egyptian investigators are linking these particular bombings to suspected al-Qaeda members based on similar Modus Operandi’s from past al-Qaeda attacks. Pardon? What exactly was the tip off that clued them in? First you plant the bomb, then you light the fuse, then you run, and BOOM! Start releasing press releases to Anderson Cooper. Am I missing something here? Isn’t that the same fucking Modus Operandi for all terrorist bombings worldwide? I’m quite sure it’s even included in the ‘Anarchists Handbook’ adopted by al-Qaeda, Brigades of the Martyr Abdullah Azzam, Jamaa Al-Islamiya Al-Alamiya, Joe Schmo’s Crusade for Extra Cheese, and every other halfwit activist organization as the official guide to terrorist bombing. What kind of fucking rocket scientist put that profile together? “They used explosives, they targeted innocent civilians, must be al-Qaeda!” Absolute genius strategist there alright.
On another sad note, Superman has passed away. Christopher Reeve died from heart failure at the age of 52 from complications deriving from an infected pressure wound. How shitty is that? He’s been paralyzed in a wheelchair for the past nine years, and the most he’s moved since 2000 was to briefly wiggle his index finger *, and he meets his end at the hands of a bedsore. Drag.
The first democratic elections are being held in Afghanistan this weekend as well. Of course, it’s certain that it will take approximately an eternity by the time the ballots have all been delivered, chiseled out on stone tablets by all the eligible citizens and tribe’s members, and then transported back across the rugged landscape again by donkey before being tabulated for an ultimate result. Final election results are predicted to be available by the year 2063, and of the 14 Presidential candidates, only 4 are expected to still be alive. Onward and upward! I can’t wait to see how this plays out over the next quarter millennia.
Even my own humble homeland of Canada was not spared by the current influx of bad Thanksgiving mojo being experienced all around the globe this particular weekend. Canadian submarine HMCS Chicoutime was crippled while on maneuvers in the North Atlantic off the coast of Ireland after a fire broke out killing one sailor and injuring eight others. Not only was the Chicoutime left dead in the water, it had to be towed back to the nearest base in southwestern Scotland at 3 knots **. Similar fires aboard the HMCS Corner Brook have forced Canadian military to withdraw from service the rest of her submarine fleet to dock as well.
Firstly, let me say on behalf of Canadians everywhere: “Oops. How embarrassing.” Secondly, we have fucking SUBMARINES? We can barely manage to keep our own national airline operating flights normally, and our military has fucking submarines? What the hell do we need submarines for anyways; especially old rickety-ass second hand British submarines that probably still reek of Churchill’s cigar smoke?
Beyond that, what the hell were they doing off the coast of Ireland? It is that our brilliant military strategists have come upon the shocking conclusion that the real future threat of terror is going to be waged with the ‘War on Leprechauns’? I can practically hear the call to arms aboard the Chicoutime echoing on the decks and out across the mean waters of the Irish Sea:
“Cap’n, our sonar is picking up an unknown shamrock-shaped vessel 400 yards off our starboard bow!”
“Very well! Sound the alarm, seal the hatches, extinguish the wienie roast bonfire, and prepare to DIVE!”
“Ay Cap’n!”
Mind you, this is the Canadian military we are talking about here. So maybe like Air Canada, nobody on the world stage will be really much surprised. They’ll just think that we were celebrating a televised curling bonspiel with one too many brewskies and bacon sandwiches and got a wee bit careless in our used dinghies. Those crazy Canucks!
Most interestingly however, and which was not all together unbearable to see unfold on the CNN updates, was the Presidential Debate scandal. Now this is about as juicy as the Butterball that I’m still working through my bowels! Rumors are running rampant about George Bush’s peculiar bulge in the back of his suit jacket during the Presidential Debate. Was it merely just a pucker along the back seam accentuated when he crossed his arms, or was it a secretly concealed radio transmitter wired up underneath his $3000 Savile Row suit jacket? Was George receiving killer lines from his political advisor Karl Rove in his ear, or what he just a victim of fashion faux pas? See what I mean? Juicy!
A spokesperson for Bush even went so far to collect a statement from George’s tailor Georges de Paris, stating the common tailoring defect in that particular style of jacket. Now, you better fucking believe that if I ever spent 3000 dollars on some fancy-ass suit that there had better not be any fucking “puckers” of any sort in any of the seams or heads will fucking roll! And besides, like I’d ever believe what a Bush spokesperson said to me anyway. I wouldn’t be surprised if ‘ol Georges statement was actually extracted in the basement of his tailor shop at gunpoint by two large men in dark sunglasses.
But honestly, of course George Bush was wired. How could he not be? The man hasn’t got the two cents necessary to bend over to tie his own shoelaces let alone debate national political strategy. In fact, I’ll even go one further and suggest that this mysterious pucker in the back of George Bush’s jacket was actually an entire homing beacon so that the answers to his debate questions could be beamed directly into his brainpan from a secret CIA satellite orbiting above in outer space.
Maybe it was the tryptophan in my system, but it sure was a weird weekend in front of the tube for sure. Come Tuesday morning I was waiting for some strange guy dressed all in black to try and convince me to take a red pill. “C’mon Terry, do not try and bend the spoon. That’s impossible. Instead…only try to realise the truth. There is no spoon. Then you’ll see that it is not the spoon that bends, it is only yourself”.
Turkey and CNN may just be my new recreational drug of choice!
* Which I like to think was the result of Christopher trying to give the universal one-fingered response to George Bush’s conservative views on stem-cell research during the 2000 televised Presidential Debate.
** Which is about the same equivalent speed as an 87 yr old grandmother rowing a washing machine.
1 Comments:
HI TERRY
<3
DAN
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