Archive for July, 2010

New Canadian Rapper Takes (Non-Violent and Friendly) Canadian Rap Scene by Storm

Wednesday, July 28th, 2010

The Canadian music industry is reportedly in rapture over a new Canadian rapper that is just starting to take the world (or, at least, Canada) by storm (or, at least, by “wind”).  Hailed by Now magazine as “even more sublimely mediocre than Drake” – the reigning Canadian rapper of note until now – the new darling of the Canadian R&B scene is making a name for himself with his nonsensical yet melodious lyrics and goes by the enigmatic name Syphilitix- this coupled always on his CD covers and posters with the cheeky tag-line “He be Ill.”Indeed,” said one musical critic closely resembling a conformist version of Philip C. Hofman, “because it usually does take a well-planned and integrated marketing campaign to jump-start any new artist, the tag-line corresponded nicely to the title of his first album: Illin’.”

Like Canadian-born rapper Maestro (“yo”) before him, Syphilitix began his musical ascent to C-list fame just some months ago with his first track: a sampling of the market-proven rhythm of another, already-established group of artists. And just like Maestro (“yo”) before him, Syphilitix chose a song by The Guess Who, but unlike Maestro (“yo”) before him, he avoided the ballads and went straight for a rock & roll hit: “Clap for the Wolfman.” When asked as to his opinion regarding this obvious borrowing of tactics by the young upstart, Maestro replied concisely, “Maestro…yo.”

Reflected Syphilitix, “When I was but a boy, my momz use to say,  ‘Eat yo’ peas or dat wolfman be comin’ to getch’you.’ So when I was walkin’ around HMV in the Canadian section and readin’ dem CD bax, and I saw dat one, I thought, ‘Damn. There it is, yo.’ Continued the young artist: “Lenny had ‘Merican Woman.’ Maestro had ‘These Eyes.’ I got the wolfman.” Syphilitix then added cryptically, “He always be watchin’. Waitin’. He always hungry.”

The members of the Liberal government of Ontario’s secretive politburo – though they don’t particularly enjoy, appreciate or even understand rap as a musical genre – were quickly falling over themselves to invite Syphilitix to the upcoming annual government-funded Yonge/Dundas Square Caribana summer festival. Syphilix – or “The Syph” or “Sniflin’ Siphlyin’ (refrain: “need dat ‘cillinin”) as he is known to his crew and mother – reportedly protested that he is not from the Caribbean nor is his family nor is his music inspired by anything to do with the region, but the McGuinty government – far too politically correct to actually listen to the young man – insisted that he appear for the sake of their ever-important (and ever ham-handedly implemented) minority pandering initiative (a bedrock principle of the Party).

A follow-up single by Syphil’, “My Life Will Go On,” off of the Titanic soundtrack and the song that entrenched Celine Dion as a worldwide superstar, was ill-received by fans and signaled to one musical reporter that, “Syphil’ is definitely through at least five of his fifteen minutes.” Rumors abound that Syphil’ is still planning to get arrested for a firearms-related charge at a BET awards event in New York this Fall to further prove himself as a viable musical talent to a larger, non-Canadian audience. Said The Syph of his talent, “I’m a veritable vir-chew-oh-so. ….yo.”

Asked by one gushing fan after a concert if he actually did have syphilis, the artist became confused and irate, responding, “‘Scuze me? ‘Scuze me? Wutch’you just ax’ me!?”, then backhanding the small boy to his knees and causing the youthful fan to really begin gushing. That Syphilitx – known only months ago to everyone as Timothy. G. Washington – chose the stage name at random has been a growing rumor ever since his arrival on the music scene, and this incident now stands for many as proof to that effect.

Childhood Obesity Hilarious

Tuesday, July 27th, 2010

In recent years, childhood obesity has been identified as an escalating health problem in North America; indeed, – often referred to as an”epidemic” – the issue is consequently approached only in the most deadly-serious of manners. Whenever the subject makes one of its now-regular appearances on the news, the requisite shot of semi-nude-fat-children-at-a-water-park is usually accompanied by ominous music and, sometimes, the film speed is  even reduced to slow-motion in order to lend a sinister element to the jiggle of some random butterball’s backflab.

Yes, it is a common occurrence for commentators from the medical community – solemnly discussing one of the endless of obesity-related health ailments – to regularly be found on television alongside economists pontificating upon the ramifications for our healthcare system.  Yet, despite the  cacaphony of preaching about the dangers of a high cholesterol diet, the ever-increasing rate of diagnoses for childhood diabetes and the trans-fat purveying evil of poor, fast-food whipping boy McDonald’s,  this news source has discovered that all of these sage commentators have overlooked one fundamental fact regarding the issue: fat kids are hilarious.

Indeed, when one takes in the mesmerizing jiggliness that is a nine year old boy who has already cracked a buck and a half – his eyes glazed and doll-like as he mashes processed sugar-soaked meat down his gord as fast as his piglish, rosy hands can get the animal fat from-Styrofoam-to-face – then, awe-struck, you will suddenly recognize that all the attendant health problems are well worth the trouble.

In his new book, Fat Kids are Worth Their Weight: A Study on False Hysteria and the Secret Agenda of Vegetarians to Remake America, Sam Pointer, an unlicensed sociologist and freelance writer, blogger and napper, makes the case in detail. As he says,“The comedic value  that these children provide to society far outweighs the social cost of the so-called problem, whether this be health-wise or simply something as mundane as the cost of a reinforced bumper seat for a 130lb toddler at a restaurant.  Fat children have been conclusively shown to cause joyful sensations on the part of those around them-  and, perhaps most remarkably, through absolutely no deliberate effort of their own.”

Indeed, Pointer points to the fat child on the hit television series Two & a Half Men as a prime example, and notes that “the kid is beloved by fans almost more than Charlie Sheen himself.” And, Pointer continues, merry fat children,  “hilariously providing joy to us all as they rub their swollen ankles while asking ‘Who smells pizza?,’”  grow up to become merry fat adults, where the positive effect for the rest of (healthy) society continues.

Pointer further points out: “Notable fatsos include Santa Claus and John Goodman. Aberrations like Air Marshall Goering are a statistical reality, but luckily for us, occur so infreqeuently as to be statistically irrelevant. If the persecution of obese children continues, will any fat people be left at adulthood to make us laugh?”

Scientists Uniformly Squander Charity Money

Wednesday, July 21st, 2010

The public has been shocked to learn this week that even with all the hundreds of millions of dollars donated to scientific research to find a cure for Down’s Syndrome, Parkinson’s Disease, AIDS, and a who’s who of cancers over the past few decades, no one had bothered to ask why not one cure has been found. Until last week.

Indeed, Lloyed Jenkins – who had for years waited for the day that he could finally buy a hottub with an inheritance from his irritatingly healthy grandmother – posed just this question after his hell-fearing bubbie finally passed and unexpectedly left it all to bone cancer research.

Said Lloyd, “Sitting one day in the area in my backyard that I’ve kept demarcated for the hottub with pine cones since 1982 and sweating in an unrelaxing, clothed kinda way  – nor feeling any impending bone cancer coming on – I got to thinking: shouldn’t a lab assistant’s Bubblicious have fallen into a beaker and a cure for at least one of these things even accidentally been found by now? I mean, what do they do with all that money?”

Officials from various philanthropic organizations, heretofore placated with a running tally of “mice-killed” spreadsheets, agreed and finally went one step beyond giving the scientists the money and politely inquired as to what exactly the scientists had done with it.

Arriving at the laboratories unannounced, they were shocked to discover the plain answer: not much.

“It was a scene outta The Falcon and the Snowman,“ said one official, “There was booze hidden everywhere. Every Friday they’d go to TGI Friday’s. Every Friday! Some’a these guys would wear Hawaiian shirts under their lab coats. Others nothing at all. Our funds were used for a covert, running nerd Bacchanalia!“

It has since been discovered that most research scientists dropped out of medical school, and that many regularly abuse their prescription-writing privileges.

Said one on condition of anonymity, “We pretty much figured out that there’s no way to best Breast Cancer short of slicin’ off the tit back in `92. So we`ve had a party since. What would you do?“

The various charities were not eased in their anger by the collective remittance of the donations unspent: $2,398.74.

Ex-CEO of Countrywide Financial a Demon

Wednesday, July 21st, 2010

A special bishopric of learned holy men and conflicted pederasts at the Vatican have confirmed that Angelo Mozilo, one of the chief architects of the sub-prime mortgage bond debacle (or “grift“) that unhinged the financial system and plunged us all into economic limbo, is a demon.

Shockingly, the priests discovered that Angelo is truly Melchom, Satan’s demonic carrier of the purse.  Indeed, Melchom’s  humble origin as Angelo, the son of a Bronx butcher, was merely an earthly cover story and one that deliberately borrowed heavily from the timeworn rags-to-riches theme in order to induce admiration among mortals. The priests further surmise that Lucifer chose the root “Angel“ for Melchom’s cover name (Angelo) as a crude means to throw the suspicious off Melchom`s hellish track (Mozilo is an anachronistic Sicilian term for Mozzarella cheese and chosen arbitrarily by Lucifer to place Melchom as Italian in ethnicity).

Retrospectively, Melchom`s hideous sun-bleached appearance and insincere grin now seem to many to have obviously indicated an otherworldly and evil origin. Melchom’s infamous FOA (Friends of Angelo) corporatized bribery network, systemized within and maintained by Countrywide Financial itself, has been found to have included  not only regulators charged with protecting the financial security of the United States but also holy men such as high-ranking American Cardinals and Tom Cruise- this, in order to incentivize the continued concealment of Angelo’s true identity by men of spiritual influence in the face (pun intended) of such obvious aesthetic evidence.

A devilishly handsome spokesman for the Devil, oddly clad entirely in American Apparel, had this to say: “Hey, people lie about their income on a mortgage app or go off speculating in properties thinking they can’t lose, and who gets the blame? The big guy, of course.  Big Red. Sure we had a hand in it, but we have our dirty fingiez in many a pie. Just wait for Pelosi for President in 2016. Melchom is gonna seem like small potatoes then!”

FBI officials and church-going Americans defrauded out of their homes carrying torches tracked Melchom to Atlantic City – the earthly equivalent of the fourth circle of Hell – and cornered him outside Caesars (where Melchom had just finished enjoying nickel slots and was contemplating a Tom Jones matinee versus a $9.99 all-you-can-eat Lobster buffet). Yet, just as the mob surged in for the kill, Melchom sprouted gargoyle wings, laughed uproariously and dissappeared into a cloud of smoke before he could be apprehended.

Some mob participants disagree and claim that they saw a Bentley leaving the area at high speed.

Michael Ignatieff Becomes Gillette Mach-1 Spokesman

Monday, July 12th, 2010

Sources close to Michael Ignatieff have confirmed that the Liberal Party leader and notorious fake-Canadian has closed a deal with Gillette, a Procter & Gamble company (NYSE: PG), after months of negotiating to become the spokesman for its least-exciting men’s razor: the Mach-1. While the dollar figure, $14,000 and change, was never a source of contention, the number of free razor cartridges Ignatieff was to receive held up finalization of  the deal for weeks. Said an insider, “Mike insisted on ‘unlimited razors into perpetuity or any other tuity’ and that this article of the agreement was a ‘categorical imperative’ for him but finally agreed to seven free cartridges after Gillette called his bluff by not returning his calls.“ His stylist and personal assistant Angela continued, “He`s really excited. It`s all he talks about. Actually, he stopped thinking about politics – or The Party – soon after he started.“

It has only been a year since The Liberal Party decided, according to an internal memo, that “the Francophone thing with Dion isn’t working so let’s try a guy who’s practically American” in Spring 2009 and so far their commitment to ineffectuality at the polls with Ignatieff – whose patriotism is frequently brought into question given the fact that he spent most of his adult life in Britain, then the United States as some kind of professor/unpopular writer – has been maintained as Ignatieff continues to harvest handsome yields of pubic ambivalence with his unfollowed tours and speaking engagements.

Gillette identified Ignatieff early on as the kind of pseudo-scholarly, non-performing blowhard that they were looking for as the public face for their fledgling, weak-selling Mach-1 line: an inexpensive razor known for its chin rash and popularity among cash-strapped alcoholics and rural teenagers. Runners-up for the spot included the Prime Minister of North-Rhine Westphalia and the guy who played opposite Ryan Reynolds in Two Guys, A Girl and a Pizza Place.

Said a Gillette PR flack: “Ignatieff has that perfectly impotent look that we were looking for: thin, salt and pepper hair attentively maintained in an out-of-date cut, smarmy yet sleep-inducing, a closet pillow-bitter, of obviously-average intelligence to others but considers himself an intellectual God, a guy who would definitely lose in a fistfight- you know, the kind of guy who would talk over you at dinner party in order to reinforce his own fragile ego, in other words; he encapsulates the exact consumer profile for our Mach-1.”

Ignatieff will debut as the (mediocrely-shaven) face of the Mach-1 at a Little Miss Princess pageant in Red Deer, Alberta later this Summer, where he will take advantage of the occasion – since it should draw more attention than his usual events – to also wear his Liberal Party hat and say something boring and non-commital about globalization as it relates to the Canadian economy, as well as his usual (obligatory) paying of Party lip service to mult-culturalism.

“We were considering putting a green plastic insert into the handle, or maybe some kind of buzzing mechanism, and refreshing the product as the Mach-1 ‘Turbo,’“ added the Gillette flack,“ but that kind of dynamism and results-oriented, go-get`em attitude is more of a Mach-3 thing. It`s not in keeping with what the Mach-1 – or Ignatieff – is about.“

Ignatieff himself was reticent to discuss his new role at length, but did venture to comment: “Shaving is prudent.“ Pressed further, he added: “This product is adequate.“

Justin Bieber Sighting Causes Gay Pride Parade Stampede

Monday, July 12th, 2010

Last weekend`s Gay Pride Parade, coming on the heels (no pun intended) of the uber-successful G20 Summit – which drew admiration from more than one visiting world leader, the Chancellor of Germany, Angela Merkel, having commented with an approving Teutonic nod, “dissent was controlled very nicely by z Royal Kanadian Mounted Polizei, agitators were rounded up with brutal efficiency“ – was plunged into chaos when home-grown adolescent pop superstar (and activator of millions of nine year old girls’ libidos) Justin Bieber was spotted amid the giant crowd.

A Trinidadian man wearing a bright green speedo, dancing high atop the revelers in a square (technically: a rhombus) plexiglass cage made the first sighting. Emitting a high-pitched cry of excitement and pointing, his shrieking immediately initiated the stampede, as the revelers briefly paused to behold the effervescent blonde boy in their midst before rushing towards him in a frenzy of worship.

Unfortunately, the boy proved only to be a devastatingly-handsome lost youth who bore a striking resemblance to “the Bieb.“ Timmy Adams, 12, was almost killed by the ensuing onrush of homosexual, bisexual, transexual and pansexual – as well as plain-old heterosexual – fans. Though some were obviously aroused at his sight, most sought only to stroke his handsome blonde locks or get an autograph.  The adulation tapered off as his lookalike status became evident and a Madonna classic came on over the loud speakers.

Luckily the boy was a church-going Catholic and therefore not entirely traumatized by the incident.

Small Boy Solves Oil Spill Crisis

Monday, July 12th, 2010

The gushing oil pipeline leak in the Gulf of Mexico that confirmed that God really does hate Louisiana was solved yesterday by a small boy who tugged on the pant leg of of British Petroleum (NYSE: BP) CEO Tony Hayward during a press conference and suggested, “Why don’t you just turn it off?”

BP officials in concert with the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) had until this point tried a host of solutions to the crisis, including such quasi-sexual or narcotic methods as a “Junk Shot” and “Hot Tap.” It had been suggested with some popularity that Hayward himself be administered a “Hot Shot” – an intravenous hit of heroin mixed with cyanide, long a popular method of disposing of the insolvent among the drug community – unfortunately Hayward has not Ridden the Dragon since 1976.

Hayward himself had been under intense pressure since the crisis began, facing particlularly intense blame for having appointed ex-Exxon Valdez captain Joseph “Triple, Neat” Haywood (a distant relative) to run the Deepwater Horizon oil platform, where inept safety precautions eventually led to the explosion and consequent oil spill. Reportedly, most of the safety procedures were scheduled for after 5pm (Happy Hour) and subsequently were not often carried out.  Said Hayward to the criticism, “It was a do-nothing job- robots do most of the work! He’s my cousin’s husband and I thought he was off the sauce. My bad, old boy.”

The boy, Timmy Adams, has been anointed Earl of Grey by Dame Edna (the Queen being ill) in recognition of his suggestion – however painfully obvious – and the immense relief to both the public and the environment it rendered.

In the wake of the crisis, President Obama is considering a cessation of oil subsidies – which would force  BP to actually pay its fair share of corporate taxes – as punishment for its corporate irresponsibility and recompense for the incalcuable dollar value of the damage the oil spill wrought, thought the bill faces stiff Republican opposition in Congress.

A silver lining can be found though: Gulf region boaters were ecstatic to hear that the last manatee died an oil-related death this week, making the species officially extinct, meaning that they can now do over 3 knots/hr again on many area waterways again.

Earthquake Traced to Rita MacNeil

Monday, July 12th, 2010

The earthquake that shook the GTA yesterday, sending pedestrians and rodents running while assisting lucky fornicators, has been traced to Canadian folk music icon and behemoth Rita McNeil.

Registering 4.0 on the Andy Richter Scale (and, coincidentally, scoring 4.0 with the Olympic Committee, just half a point away from the coveted “Triple Salchow”) the quake was initially attributed to  the shifting of seismic plates in Quebec before officials realized MacNeil – who reportedly fell down the stairs – was the actual cause. Long notorious among school children for having “ate a big meal,“ MacNeil had seen her referencing in schoolyards decline in recent years, youths opting for more contemporary musicians for their limerick needs such as Notorious B.I.G., who once flipped a city bus when he tripped on a gangster banana, and Queen Latifah, until she most recently had her refrigerator stapled.

Toronto has not been shook by an earthquake of comparable magnitude since Burton Cummings jumped for joy upon hearing of a Pizza Pizza XL meat lovers` discount in 1996.

Police Protect G20 Windbags from Anarchic Loiterers

Thursday, July 8th, 2010

As the windbags from the twenty countries that, together, produce most of the world’ glycerine (hence: G20) discussed all things glycerol (tryglycerides, saponification, biodiesel transterification, troubling glycerine-related levels of bank debt and increasing glycerine aid to Africa) during Toronto’s G20 Summit this weekend, a menacing crowd of onlookers, bent on chaos, vandalism, anarchy and taking blurry cellphone-photos began to form outside Queen’s Park.

Luckily, the OPP, Metropolitan Toronto Police, and York Regional Police had formed a number of special Safety Squad (or “SS”) detachments to deal with the troublemakers. Having trained in the “measured“ use of batons upon pumpkins for weeks before the Summit, the police easily herded the agitators – determined to disrupt the Summit with staring, loitering and photography – into a “pacification zone” or, as the police called it, a “fun-time illegal detainment patio,” on a nearby Queen St. West intersection, from which they were then safely processed into paddy wagons for a courtesy 20 hour-plus stay at cozy Downsview Detention Centre.

Said one lucky detainee, “I don’t know what I was thinking: going outdoors, taking photos, staring at the Summit- thank God the Police saved me from myself! My time in a dank cell was really neat- I felt like the Count of Monte Cristo!”

Another, rounded up while (chaotically) walking her dog, added, “A rat ate my lipstick.”

While many a whiny reporter droned on about the Canadian Charter of Rights & Freedoms (an obscure and largely defunct, anachronistic item of legislation dealing with such trivial and dated issues as a Canadian citizen`s “Right to Assemble“), Bill Blair, who considers himself a modern-day Police Minister Fouche, set them straight with his comments after the events: “Several of the attendee dignitaries would have believed that their souls were stolen had we allowed these anarchists to snap photos. We saved many Canadians and Toronto itself from an epic hissy fit from the Prime Minister of Japan.“

To further criticism, Boss Blair retorted: “Was the Black Bloc a fringe group numbering in the tens? Sure. Were most of the so-called protesters just ordinary Torontonians out to see the summit? Maybe. Can we do whatever we want? Definitely.”

The Police SS, empowered by their riot gear and the sheer rush of nailing a pedestrian in the thigh bone with rubberized buckshot, were reportedly about to march on Queen’s Park as the event wound up for an old-tyme, impromptu coup d’etat but dispersed back to their homes as overtime ran out and American Idol began.

In related news, President Obama left a voicemail on the Queen`s Park general mailbox regarding an American Eagle pleather tote-bag that he believes he may have misplaced during the event “or maybe in Biden`s movie room“ and has offered one hundred million American dollars in bail-out money or African aid to whoever returns it.

“It`s – like – really, really nice.“ said the President.

Mr. T Charged with Actor`s Murder

Thursday, July 8th, 2010
Laurence Tureaud, more popularly known (and, until-as-of-late acclaimed) as  80s cultural icon “Mr. T” has been charged with first degree murder in the beating-death of rookie actor Quintin “Rampage” Jackson. Jackson had just received his big break by getting the nod to play the role of B.A. Barracus in the film-version of The A-Team, the very same role that helped propel Mr. T to B-list stardom in the 1980s when the series was top-rated in television. Jackson, 31, was elevated to blockbuster film status from minor notoriety as a UFC competitor on the mixed martial arts circuit after Mr. T, 58, was deemed by studio execs as too old to reprise his A-Team role on the big screen.Mr. T was reportedly very upset when he heard the news. Said his agent, “When I told him over spritzers at Spago, T just lost it. He locked himself in the handicap washroom and sobbed for a good two hours, and then broke the valet’s jaw as he left for being too slow with his Kia. That cost a solid five k right there. Don Johnson went through something similar when they gave the Crockett role to that Irish kid. This was worse though. Far worse. People hate to see a grown man crying, least of all Mr. T. Adult crying is something he would usually pity as foolish behaviour.”

The young Jackson was found dead the following morning by his housekeepr, Consuela. Police found evidence that Mr. T was at the scene of the murder and had him picked up within hours. Said Detective Sergeant Manyard of the LAPD, “Neighbours reported hearing repeated shouts of ‘I pity da fool dat steal my row’ followed by what sounded like a woman screaming. Tell you one thing, when you murder someone, don’t shout out a catchphrase that is famously associated with your person. In fact, I’d suggest shouting in a Mexican accent or  using ebonics. …Wait, cut that last part.” Added a CSI med tech, “The victim`s UFC training was apparently no match for an assailant  who, so far as we can gather from the marks to the corpse, was quite skilled in the lethal use of male jewelery.“

The district judge denied Mr. T bail after the prosecution presented an artful picture of T as a serious flight-risk due to, as the DA put it, “countries, mainly developing nations, where his television shows and movies are still in first-run status and where he would be hailed as a hero and harbored from justice like a fugitive Tom Cruise at a Scientology convention.”

The judge did allow Mr. T to retain his gold chains in jail after T claimed that they held religious significance for him.

This, of course, follows hard on the heels of George Peppard`s reported haunting of Liam Neeson from beyond the grave and, as Liam bemoaned, Peppard`s alleged “poltergeist-ing“  of his wife while she was in the shower.


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