Archive for October, 2010

Nancy Pelosi #1 Halloween Costume

Sunday, October 31st, 2010

Nancy Pelosi, the Democratic Speaker of the House and third in command behind VP Joe Biden should Obama ever decide to tour Dallas in an open-air Town Car, is widely reviled by the right in the United States. Considered the worst example of the classic Californian über-liberal mold, she has championed the most controversial of the Democrats’ initiatives over the years including, as its detractors derisively term it, “Obamacare” and other more visceral programs such as getting rid of the Pledge of Allegiance.

Her pseudo-compassionate demeanor – emanating as it does from an icy, undead exterior – leaves many Americans of every political stripe feeling less than warmed. Moreover, some of the criticisms hurled at her – such as that concerning her recent $3.2 million all-expenses paid trip to a Copenhagen Climate Change Conference – have resonated with an American public that uniformly felt that taking advantage of such an obviously ill-timed political luxury was, to say the least, in poor taste given that Americans remain confronted with 10% unemployment and a climate of insecurity and anxiety at home.

The commonality of American displeasure with Pelosi has borne strange fruit this season. Indeed, for Halloween 2010 Pelosi finds her likeness to be the number one costume across the land.

Said Brenda Bourgeois, a mom who prides herself on her excellent and topical costume suggestions, “I asked my son Timmy if he wanted to go as Brett Favre’s penis-on-a-cameraphone or, maybe, a two-headed Jon Stewart/Stephen Colbert whiny kind of creature, but – to my surprise – he said, ‘No, mommy, I want to go as that witch on C-SPAN!’”

Clyde P. Hickstock of Tennessee – a man of the traditional Pelosi-hating demographic – initially had his 8-year old son rigged up as a Tea Party Militiaman, complete with a bull’s eye of Obama taped over his criss-crossing ammunition bandoliers. “But Clyde Jr. ups an sez ‘I wanna go as that ‘asexual zombie,”” said Clyde, “And when I seenzd whut he was gitinn’ at, I thought, got-daymn, that eez SKEHRY!”

Many children, of course, will be ghosts or vampires, Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (they’re still cool, right?). But many others will be begging candies and/or hucking eggs as The Wicked Witch of Washington.

Pelosi supporters, in a kind of retaliation of sorts, are rumored to be dressing their children up for Halloween as the one thing that scares the radical right the most.


NDP Propose F-35 Alternative

Saturday, October 30th, 2010

When times are tough, governments often have trouble selling necessary (or so they say) military upgrades to the public. Thus it is of no surprise that Stephen Harper’s Conservative-led government finds itself taking significant flack (pun intended) in its current effort to secure 65 F-35 ultra-modern fighter jets for the Canadian Forces. At a cost of  $16 billion, the Conservatives are going red in the face trying to impress upon all of us the amount of jobs that maintaining the new jets would create in Canada.

More bellicose countries can usually rely successfully on the tactic of pointing to the age-old  “enemy” on the other side of the map and claiming, “We gotta stay ahead of them!” However, given that the Taliban Air Force is still a work in progress and that the Soviet threat is long-gone, Canada’s hawks do not have that luxury.

Supporters of the purchase find their case considerably worsened by the news that the Defense Department was not altogether honest in its cost projections for the new Chinook helicopters that are (were?) to replace our 45-year-old Sea-Kings- Canada’s long-running national embarrassment. The $5 billion estimate has ballooned to $11 billion. Hardly a confidence builder for Joe Canuck – usually a pacifistic type of guy, off the hockey rink at least – when he goes from considering the helicopters to, now, these super-modern jet-planes.

Cue the NDP (National Democratic Party of Canada)! Riding in over the horizon to save the day like the (unarmed) cavalry of the Old West, its members claim to have a solution: The Cessna 172 Skyhawk. An unimposing plane, it nonetheless is the most commonplace airplane in the world with nearly 50,00 flown (or still flying) since production started in 1956. At only $300 K a pop, 65 of them would total only $19.5 million- fully 99.97% cheaper than the multi-billion dollar F-35 proposal. Literally, a drop in the bucket by comparison.

“While that supposedly oh-so-amazing Robocop fighter of the future can only seat one,” said Jack Layton, “the Cessna can seat four. That’s, uh, like four times more people!”

Queried as to its combat potential, Layton replied, “It’s called a SKY. HAWK. Hello? A ‘hawk’? Have you ever seen a hawk?? They’re scary!”

Pressed further as to its non-existent air-air armaments or air-ground munitions payload capabilities, Layton replied, “Hey, we already have guns, right? Give four guys four guns – OK, three guns, since one has to fly – and get those three guys to shoot at the bad guys out the windows! Even if two of them miss, you’re still good!”

“This plan allows us to save much, much more money for more important and relevant initiatives. And by initiatives I, of course, mean social programs. Like our Inuit Art Fair for downtown Toronto,” concluded Layton.

Given that the NDP has tried to introduce a bill disbanding the entire Canadian Forces a record 37 times in the House of Commons over the years, support for its Cessna counter-proposal among the Canadian military is scant at best.

“Hey, if sh*t really goes down, we’ll just rely on the US anyway, like always,” confided Layton, off the record.

A Bloc-Quebecois counter-proposal to purchase four Dewoitine D.520 fighters – originally manufactured in 1936 – from the barn of an old man in southern France who calls himself the last remaining Vichy Air Force commander has met with similar skepticism.

Crazed, Vigilante Shopkeeper Brought to Justice

Friday, October 29th, 2010

David Chen, the Toronto Chinatown shopkeeper who assaulted and forcibly confined an innocent man, will begin the journey towards reckoning today as he makes his first of many appearances in provincial court. The incident in which he is charged occured over the summer: Anthony Bennett – a visible minority and, therefore, victim of societal injustice – borrowed 12 plants that were on display in front of David Chen’s store, The Lucky Moose. Presumably Bennett needed them to feed his starving family or, perhaps, create a forest theme in his living room. Whether his motive was nutritional or aesthetic, the point is that Bennett was unable to purchase the plants because our callous government neglected to subsidize this noble man whom it had reduced to a life of petty crime, nor would our uniformly racist…and (and!) overwhelmingly sexist…Toronto business community give this proud, black man a job lest they employ an “n-word.” Despicable.

“Hasn’t he been, like, arrested for theft 43 times already?” asked  one man.

“Wasn’t this his second theft attempt after robbing Chen’s store once already that same day?” asked another.

“Chen claims that when he called police in the past, they took upwards of two hours to respond.” added yet another.

“Nonsense!” we at The Toronto Thymes cry. Bennet is the victim. If he has resorted to bending the law once or twice or forty-odd times in the past, then that is our fault for not saving him. Chen is the real “criminal” here. Violence is always wrong. We can’t have citizens defending their private property; the consequence would obviously be anarchy. Besides, confrontation is decidedly un-Canadian. That’s what the police are for. If they are an hour or two late…well…some fellow Canadian probably needed your DVD player more than you, so just warm your heart with that fact.

Ever the apostle of social justice (or anything to do with the term “social”), The Star reported that Bennett, once detained, “…was afraid the men were going to kill him.”

“’I didn’t know what they were going to do with me,’ he testified.”

Queried as to his thoughts on the case, Saul Rosenberg, an old man who is following the case closely, said, “I’ve never been tied up with twine and held in the back of an Econoline by three Chinese men, but once at Plant World the cashier lady was very, very rude to me and called me all sorts of nasty names after I dropped some soil on her credit card machine.”

Asked as to what he thought regarding the Chen case, specifically, Rosenberg replied, “I am never going back there again. Not ever.”

Chen and his two assistants-turned-accomplices supposedly offered to let Bennet go if he paid for the plants, to which Bennet ostensibly replied, “F*ck you Chinese.” Approximately eleven other witnesses on hand that day have joined Chen and his vigilante gang in confirming this farcical recounting of events, what is an obvious attempt to attack Bennett’s character and damage his credibility in court.

Some say Chen is actually an underboss in the Chinese underworld: a “Triad” kingpin, in charge of the lucrative $8.99  fern racket. Others, a workaholic immigrant who works 4am to 9pm, seven days a week, and – left to his own devices by an overworked or uncaring police force – now forced to deal with this horsesh*t.

However, we think otherwise: Chen is the face of true evil. Study the picture inset. In it, one can see by the look in Chen’s eyes who he truly he is: a psychopathic shopkeep, hell-bent on tying people up with twine.

We can only pray that Ontario’s justice system will put this Asian Dexter where he belongs.

Motorists Urged to Speed Up for Halloween

Thursday, October 28th, 2010

David Suzuki, environmental advocate and Canadian national treasure, urged Canadian motorists to remember to speed up this coming Halloween Sunday, as youngsters will be out during the night in droves. “Remember to elevate your speed when in the car this Halloween,” said the iconic naturalist, “as the earth is dangerously overpopulated already, so everyone has to do their part.”

Al Gore concurred, urging that Americans too speed up a little come Sunday night. “And maybe cut the headlights,” added the bloated politician-turned-savior.

“Children are among the top three sources of greenhouse gas emissions,” advised Gore, “along with non-hybrid cars and FOX News anchors.”

Upon hearing of Gore’s advice, Rupert Murdoch angrily retorted from his yacht in the Mediterranean, “Even if that hoax were real, every thinking American knows that The New York Times creates more hot air than anyone.”

Aside from pegging elementary-aged children dressed as PIXAR characters and junior high-school-aged children dressed as horny vampires from the Twilight series with their cars, Suzuki also reminded Canadians to unplug the beer fridges in their basements.

“It just wastes electricity,” counseled the sage wizard of the lakes and forests. Angry, white, hockey-watching hosers (US readers, read: “hicks”) grabbed Suzuki and demanded to know just how he planned to keep their beer cold(!)

Suzuki replied with aplomb to the hostile crowd, “Just use a cooler or the kitchen fridge. The vegetable drawer is probably empty. This way, you’ll have around $500 extra a year for more beer.”

At the mention of more (more? yes, more) beer, the cheering crowd elevated the ecologist onto their shoulders and Suzuki was buoyed along on a sea of tuques to the nearest Tim Horton’s for celebratory double-doubles.

Rumors abound among the scientific community that Suzuki, at 117 years old, may be immortal and therefore has an interest in the earth’s continued survivability far beyond that of most – greenies and the skeptical alike.

“Most people would rather continue to drive a Tahoe than worry about their unborn great-grand-childrens’ food supply or air quality,” said one scientist, “but a Highlander eventually has to live in that future reality.”

Charlie Sheen “Just Living the Dream” Say Hollywood Veterans

Wednesday, October 27th, 2010

Charlie Sheen, film and television star and – as he is best known – perennial bad-boy, was just a month fresh from his latest stay in rehab when he made news again this week for trashing a New York hotel room drunk while having a little “me time” in the company of a nice, young lady called in from a service that specializes in such companionship. NYPD responders took Sheen to a local hospital for evaluation and – Two & a Half Men (and definitely Platoon) fans to a man, no doubt – also thankfully declined to press charges.

This, the latest in a lifetime of spectacular headlines, causes the more chaste of us in society to ask, yet again; ” What causes Sheen [born Carlos Irwin Estévez, but better known by the family stage surname adopted by patriarch Martin in the 1960s so as to better get work] to put himself in such situations? Such a nice young man, who fought communism in Vietnam and greed on Wall St. A self-destructive streak?”

This surely cannot be the case: his bad-boy antics feed the real-life/fictional-life dichotomy that makes his same-same bad-boy alcoholic, womanizer character on Two & a Half Men so fascinatingly watchable to the Joe Six Packs of the world (and, the show itself, so bankable). But given the sheer amount of T’n’A on the series (it is, for instance, overwhelmingly the #1 US television import throughout Latin America), Sheen hardly has to continuously feed the beast with incident after incident! Indeed, his status as Champion Whore-Banger and Wild-Man of Hollywood was cemented when he was revealed to be notorious madame Heidi Fleiss’s #1 client. Jack Nicholson himself presided over the passing of the torch ceremony, handing Charlie the plaque personally at a closed event at The Chateau Marmont just a few years ago.

So why persevere in this behavior? Surely Charlie must be as tired of prostitutes as an Islamofascist terrorist would be virgins-in-heaven (were it real) ?

The answer is simple. He persists in engaging in this behaviour because he can.

Did Charlie confirm this answer? No, not exactly. He was reportedly vomiting into a bedpan while simultaneously trying to bite a nurse’s breast when we phoned. But we here at The Toronto Thymes consulted with men who should know.

Said the ghost of Marlon Brando, “Sheen continues a proud tradition. Shot his girlfriend in the arm in the 80′s by accident? Hell, in the 50′s we did it on purpose. Now make with the ghost-cake!”

A phantom purporting to be Steve McQueen echoed Brando, “Sheen is living the life of a classic Hollywood leading man. Better than most of these p*ssies I see acting down there these days. Though still, he ain’t approached my record yet. Injected himself with cocaine and almost died in ’98, did he? Try doing a gram or two and driving a racecar. That’s how I rolled in the 70s. “

A blurry apparition of Lee Marvin added his two cents to the consensus, “I became an actor after nearly biting the big one killing nips on Saipan for Uncle Sam. Back then, men were men, and drinking 15 Heinekens a day went hand-in-hand with acting, just as it did carpentry and school-teaching.”

Finally, Frank Sinatra, leader of the original Brat Pack – Sheen a cadre along with brother Emilio, among others, of the relatively benign,  teenage 80s version – said, from his outdoor pool in an undisclosed location somewhere in Bel-Air where he often suntans his undead skin, “Bangin’ whoores and slammin’ drinks? Of course that’s what the kid is doin’! Why the hell else become rich & famous? To get a wife and be home by 6?!?”

Colin Farrell could not be reached for comment.

Tax & Spend Ferret Wins Election

Tuesday, October 26th, 2010

Just as every analyst had Rob Ford posed to seize victory – Ford only having to wrest it from the moisturized hands of his rival George Smitherman with his legions of supporters on voting day – a late-entry candidate began to capture votes in huge numbers at polling stations across the city Monday night. Indeed, Mr. Chippy, a four year old ferret, running on the platform “I’m cute,” had been allowed into the mayoral race even though he was about as late for registering as a candidate as one could possibly be. David Miller himself, in a last-gasp expression of the God-like power he must now relinquish, reportedly granted Mr. Chippy an Executive Pardon for his lateness, this highly unusual favor allowing him to run.

And word spread like wildfire regarding the new candidate. Besides promising a solution to every problem a citizen could cite, the new mayoral hopeful was everything the other candidates were not.

He was Ford, but less fat. Smitherman, but less gay. Panatalone, but less umpa-lumpa.

He was cute as f*ck.

“Just look at dat widdle fayccccce,” said one woman, who had just entered her vote for Mr. Chippy, in a baby’s voice as she gestured to a poster of the small, furry mammalian candidate (Mr. Chippy, not Pantalone), “sooo cuuuute.”

Another man, asked why he had abandoned Ford for Mr. Chippy, replied, “Remember when those Germans had that ferret in The Big Lebowski? Remember? ‘Vee are nihlists Libowski. Vee believe een nuzeeng, Libowski!’ Hahaha. Classic!”

Said a defecting Smitherman devotee, “Ohh, hmmmm, yeth – George had progrethive viewth and everything – but, mmmm, that ferret, oh, mmmmm, Jethuth Crith! It’th juth he ith tho goddamned furrrrrry!”

An accredited ferret whisperer confirmed the speculation that Mr. Chippy would build a flying TTC bus line – this superior to both streetcars, light rail and subways – using proven technology from the Back to the Future films, put solar panels on everything, have all sorts of parades, festivals and concerts for every kind of peripheral cultural group imaginable, slash the deficit, increase services, and lower taxes. He would build bike lanes for the bike people, car lanes for the car people, distribute free Purina to the cat people and free Pedigree to the dog people.

With these kind of assurances, voters rapidly became ferret people.

Only a few were suspicious. A reporter claims that she heard bales of maniacal laughter emerging from a closed-door meeting between Dalton McGuinty and David Miller just after Mr. Chippy had won the election. The Premier and lame duck Mayor claimed that they were just having a spirited game of Hot Wheels on their foldout map of “Hot Rod City,” as the two are often known to do.

“Dalton was a policecar and he was chasing me because I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt in this Camry,” claimed Mayor Miller, as he brandished a miniature toy Camry sedan just a little too eagerly.

Across town, Olivia Chow delivered a bizarre speech to legionnaires of her core NDP cadre – the so-called “Greenshirts” – that further aroused suspicions as to just who was behind Mr. Chippy’s sudden ascent to power: “The time is at hand. The kulaks will die a peasant’s death. Seeing castles in the sky, they have fallen prey to their own Imperialistic greed, as we knew they would. Soon, all your OSAP debt will be wiped clean; paying for basket-weaving made a thing of the past.” At this point the crowd began chanting  mystically in low tones as Chow poured the blood of a slain beaver all over herself, this purportedly purifying her of her sins.

Rumors are circulating with ever greater force that Mr. Chippy is actually a tax & spend, über-liberal puppet. Just this morning, Mayor Chippy shocked Torontonians when he announced that the Vehicle Registration Tax would be raised from $60 to $6,000.

“Bikes,” interpreted his official whisperer, “the mayors says ‘Ride bikes.’”

The new mayor responds to “Mayor Chippy? Mayor Chippyyy??” and “Gimme-gimme!”

Ford & Smitherman Both Hit with 11th Hour Scandals

Monday, October 25th, 2010

As Torontonians go to the polls today, the advance polling shows the mayoral contest solidly split approximately 40% a piece between righteous cost-slasher – or, depending upon your view, “bombastic, drunken bigot” – Rob Ford and progressive liberal – or, depending upon your view again, “crooked, ingratiating homo” – George Smitherman. While Ford has faced criticism over the lack of details provided so far as to the actual implementation of his otherwise largely well-received cost cutting plan for city hall, so too has Smitherman suffered near-continuous condemnation for his former role as Deputy Premier of Ontario, where he oversaw the $2 billion eHealth boondoggle (a waste and corruption-ridden initiative to electronize patient records and streamline service in our creaky, bloated provincial public health system).

Joe Pantalone, the third and final contender and a man known most for his remarkable shortness rather than his views, trails both Rob and George badly at approximately 15% city-wide support. While he has no hope at winning the mayor’s office, with his modest following of dedicated fans Pantalone does continue to successfully disrupt any attempt to accurately predict the winner (Ford or Smitherman). We’ll know soon enough anyhow.

Generally, the city has been quite clearly polarized: bottom-line driven people who can’t stand high taxes love Ford, while the artsy left, worried for the survival of their publicly-funded festivals and other cultural subsidies, almost uniformly adore Smitherman. One group buys their concert tickets from Ticketmaster and couldn’t care a whit about the number of subsidized festivals our municipal tax dollars pay for (“the less the better!”), and the other simply do not own cars and therefore could care less if the city gouges drivers with a $120 vehicle registration tax on top of the $100+ usual provincial charges (“they should be biking anyways!”).

The near-universal revulsion felt by Torontonians towards current mayor David Miller  – a man who came into office with a broom logo and the innocuous promise to “clean up the city” following a bizarre period of rule by a furniture store mascot -  for allowing the unions to hijack the city (this, of course, coming to a head with the infamous 2009 garbage strike) forced Smitherman to appropriate the cost-cutting core of Ford’s platform into his own agenda. Even lefties (non-city employees, anyways) hate the stench of rotting leftovers and diapers in the summer. However, while Smitherman benefited from this bit of borrowing, the battle cry for a return to “respect for taxpayers” remained solidly Ford’s.

Of course, over the past months, the mud-slinging that accompanies any city election was, uh, “slung” with vigor by Ford and Smitherman at one another. Ford was castigated by Smitherman for a 1999 DUI arrest in Florida as well as a more recent ugly, drunken incident at a Toronto Maple Leafs game. Likewise, Ford’s team has pointed out on several occasions that Smitherman is no angel: he is a self-confessed former cocaine addict who often attended homosexual orgies that featured the drug in abundance during the mid-1990s. The insults led to some crude jokes (“A fat guy, a homo and a midget are in a row boat, er, a mayoral race…wait, have you heard this one? In this one, the fat guy is also a drunk but the homo is a former coke head…oh, you have? Yeah, they sodomize and eat the midget simultaneously. OK you have heard this one.”) but the relative parity of embarrassment (and savvy admissions of mea culpa) left neither candidate worse or better off.

Yet, on election day of all days, it seems a further scandal has come to light for both candidates.

Rob Ford, it would seem, apparently ate himself out of a tremendous prize many years ago when, under the alias “Augustus Gloop,” he attended the tour of a Chocolate Factory as boy along with several other lucky children. Warned by the proprietor, a Mr. Willy Wonka, that the eating of the various delicacies the children would encounter on their tour would not be tolerated, Ford fell victim to his rapacious gluttony nonetheless and fell into a chocolate river after losing his balance while gorging himself on the bank from its fudgetastic flow. Reportedly some reserved Dutch kid won the prize, which later degenerated into some kind of flying elevator adventure.

Said Ford, “It was a long time ago, but as a result of my actions I forewent a lifetime supply of Wonka bars. I think the public will agree that I have more than paid for my crime in this light.”

Smitherman, on the other hand, apparently had sex with a member of ‘N Sync during one of his blown-up sex benders- this at a time when all the members of the boyband were indeed boys only of 17 years of age.

“You have to remember that this was 1998. Those boys were bigger than both The Beatles and five Jesuses put together. I had a shot: I took it. It was a wild party on the top floor of The Four Seasons and I was not myself; I was servicing a pretty bad addiction at the time. Hopefully people can keep it in context.”

Will these late-breaking scandals hurt the candidates’ respective bids? Only Tuesday will tell.

O-Town and Willy Wonka could not be reached for comment.

Canadian Gov’t: Don’t Offend Anyone, Ever

Saturday, October 23rd, 2010

A true Canadian, as we all know, loves hockey, Tim Horton’s, and flapjacks…with the proper kind of bacon. Maybe curling as well. But a true Canadian is also widely-regarded around the world – whether with derision, admiration or detached bemusement – as being utterly incapable of providing offense. For American college students taking their rite of bourgeois passage of getting drunk, smoking marijuana without fear of incarceration and visiting museums in Europe over Summer break, a Canadian flag sown onto their backpack can automatically render them the nicest people ever to walk into a cafe (as well spare them catching a boatload of hostility from the locals regarding whatever unpopular war the US is currently embroiled in).

It’s a good thing the French can’t tell a Newark accent from a Newmarket.

But sometimes our need to be liked approaches that of a 14 year old unattractive girl. Ingratiatingly helpful or neurotically apologetic – depending on the situation – has become the collective Canadian SOP. Nowhere south of the border will someone apologize to you after you bump into them.

While Canadians largely pride themselves on this reputation – usually presented in contrast to the ignorant-boor caricature of the “average” American – this national character attribute, like too much sugar in a cookie, can often become a character flaw.  Indeed, this good-thing-turned-bad phenomenon reared its head yet again when a right-wing speaker was disallowed from appearing at a convention center in London. The owners referenced “security concerns” and, rather unfairly, presumed that the attendees would be too “rowdy.” The real reason? Obviously extremist – and maybe even a few moderate – moslems  (Canadian or otherwise) would surely have been offended.

“Call out the RCMP, the NASCAR-loving, non-Canadian Canadian traitors are coming! There’ll be Skoal spittle all over the floor and probably a lynching of some minority to boot!”

The characterization-prior-to-evidence of the presumably right-wing crowd that would have attended as “rowdy” is not the issue; rather, the fact that a government-owned convention center would adopt a non-neutral political view and prohibit the event infringes on the Charter right of Freedom of Speech (found in section 2). Hate conservative thinker Mark Steyn if you like – even attend and boo until your hoarse if voice – but he should have been allowed to speak. If the convention center (centre…this is a Canadian-focused article, after-all) had been owned by a private individual, then he or she could have allowed or disallowed any speaker for virtually any reason- they pay the property tax, not “us.” However, again, when the venue in question is a government-owned  facility – with a mandate to serve the Canadian public – forbidding the appearance of anything short of a speaker who planned to incite hatred or violence is unacceptable. The ingrained leftism of the Canadian political establishment (even, apparently, resident as it is here among the municipal authorities of London, Ontario) is also to blame. Would the “converse,” an event featuring a discussion of the “indignities historically inflicted” upon the moslem world by the developed, have gone ahead as planned? Almost certainly. But this leads one to a whole different subject…

The “security risk” the convention centre authorities cite is, of course, a reference to either the unlikely scenario of angry left-wing picketers making an appearance or the equally improbable – but real – threat of some enraged moslem fanatic blowing up the convention during or after the right-wing event (where, presumably, a castigation of Islamofascism around the world would have occurred). The former completely goes against the apolitical stance a government-run forum for public debate should take and the latter…well, if the free world were collectively terrified of ever offending moslem extremists and restricted freedom of speech to this end, then one could safely say that a major objective of these extremists had been achieved…with more than a little of our own assistance.

More on the incident:

Potash a High-Flying Mystery

Thursday, October 21st, 2010

“Buy potash, buy potash!” This mantra is shouted on the trading floors of the largest Bay St. brokerage houses, heard above the clinking of glasses at the traders’ post-closing bell bars, and even whispered amidst the furious mouse clicks of all those daytrading hobbyists (“oops, uh, Timmy? Forget college…”) on eTrade, iTrade, (heTrades, sheTrades, weallTrade for nice green), Scottrade and a dozen other do-it-your-self portals, playing the markets as they do when they really should be working. Trading as “POT” (no, not that kind) on the TSX and NYSE, four years ago the price was at $5. Now? $150 and climbing.

But what is Potash? Apparently, one has to know only one thing: it is the Next Big Thing.

“I really missed the boat on Nortel,” said Guss L. Ebel, “my neighbor urged me to get in on the easy money when it was at $140, but I wouldn’t listen. I stopped following the stock after that and I don’t really know where my neighbor is now, but I got a letter from his grandma’s house that said he’s doing great. I’m never gonna make that mistake again. Every dollar I have in the world is in this Potash thing.”

Asked as to what exactly the public company “PotashCorp” does, Guss replied, “They make potash, obviously.” Asked as to what potash is, Guss thought a moment, before replying with all the certitude he could muster, “It’s a key commodity input for cell phones, only found in Africa. Without it you can’t make the screen.”

Informed that PotashCorp was actually the “Potash Corporation of Sasketchewan,” Guss modified his answer with, “Well, Africa and Saskatchewan.” Then, irritatedly, Guss informed us, “But it doesn’t matter what they do, it only matters what the stock will do. And everyone knows this one’s headin’ for the moon! …Now get off my lawn.”

We at The Toronto Thymes then decided to check with an expert; so we headed downtown for an interview with a star trader at one of the big banks.

“PotashCorp does make potash, but it has nothing to do with cell phones,” William A. Spaulding Patrick III informed us authoritatively over $17 cocktails at trendy flake-hangout Bymark, “It has to do with China and India. Did you know that China and India are, uh, like the biggest countries in the world?”

We had to admit that yes, we kind of did know that, but William moved on without us.

After a quick glug of his martini, William leaned in closely, as if he were sharing a great secret, and whispered, “So is Brazil.” He then excused himself for his third trip to the restroom in 45 minutes, so we had to wait a few moments and flirt with the waitress until we could drop our final question, “What is Potash, as in the company, and what do they do regarding potash, as in the substance, and, finally, what exactly is potash?”

William began talking a mile-a-minute at this point, so great (we assumed) was his excitement over this lucrative “play.”

“Potash mines potash, but potash is just a rock, see? This kind of rock only out in Sasketchewan, but the thing is, the Chinese think this rock is ‘lucky’! A baby born in the presence of this rock is thought to achieve great things. Same with the Indians! And the Brazilians!! And the best part is, PotashCorp has the power of the government on its side, so it will never get bought by a foreign company, nor will they allow too much of the rock to be mined and exported, lest we don’t have enough of the rock since it may indeed actually be lucky, and while open markets are important and everything, one has to preserve his own luckiness.”

William stared at us for a few moments before adding, “Get it??”

We did not.

“Think of it like a lucky rabbit’s foot,” he said.  William intently scanned the other patrons at the bar for a moment, then confided, “I have to return some videotapes,” and left.

At this point the busboy came by and, as he cleared away our Pepsi glass and William’s 14 martini glasses, he whispered conspiratorially, “Potash is some kind of fertilizer and it’s really good and really rare. Like Kobe beef.  Makes the wheat reaaaaal tasty. It’s true, all those Chinese and Indians are gonna love it,” finished up, and left for the back kitchen.

Who to believe? We went with William, because while people like cellphones and love food; they need their magic rocks.

Besides, he’s an expert.

Blagojevich and Trump to Debut new Hair-Based Reality Show

Thursday, October 21st, 2010

Rod Blagojevich, the disgraced ex-Governor of Illinois who tried to sell Obama’s vacant Senate seat to the highest bidder, and Donald Trump, notorious real estate magnate turned cheesy television caricature, have a new show in store for both the full-on-retards – as well as the more discerning functional retards – who watch FOX: America’s Got Pommade.

Based on such terrible community center talent shows or karaoke office parties-turned-television programs such as America’s Got Talent, America’s Best Dance Crew and, of course, contemporary progenitor of them all: American Idol, America’s Got Pommade will feature Rod and Don as judges, overseeing 12 contestants, all American males aged 45 – 60, in a series of challenges to determine which has the best hair.

Every week one contestant is eliminated. So far the show is still in the pre-production phase.

“We plan to, uh, make them do various, exciting hair-related tasks on the streets of Manhattan. Maybe dance a little. We’ll throw a rat or two in there as well, like Omarosa – except with a penis – to shake things up a bit. Watch out for it. Sundays at 8. Number one in its time-slot for sure,” commented the Donald. “In the first episode they get 10 minutes to find the tie that best goes with a comb-over at the Nordstrom’s down on 14th,” he added.

Trump or “Trumpet,” as his close friends call him, developed the program along with Survivor multi-millionaire producer Mark Burnett, who had a hand in The Apprentice. Both were aware that television audiences had grown tired of the “yow fi-ah’d” catchphrase years ago, and that a new recipe was called for.

“Then I said, ‘Hey, our new idea is sitting on your head!’” recalled Burnett.

Trumpet was all-in like a 98% loan-to-value Vegas resort deal, but he needed a co-judge.

“I thought to myself: ‘Who’s the classiest man with the greatest hair out there, other than myself?’” said Donald. “The answer came faster than a classy Croatian escort: ‘Blagojevich.’”

Rod Blagojevich was a natural choice. Besides possessing a veritable man-mane, he has many other endearing qualities. Indeed, his audacity in decrying his guilt for months in the face of overwhelmingly-damning taped evidence – in which he made famous the phrase “pay to play” – was a commendable act of suicidal stubbornness for all those among us who ever took a crap on the kitchen floor and then claimed, “It must have been a burglar!” until our faces were red.

While the two have much in common, their relationship is volatile and should add sparks to the program beyond the contestants’ in-fighting. Donald and Rod reportedly got into a serious scrap already over who gets first billing in the opening credits.

“Don took a swing, but his chest started hurting, and he held out his arm for a time-out.  I went to kick him in the face as he leant over – you know, South Chicago style – but my shoe flew off. We both ended the stupid little fracas before our hair was damaged,” recounted Blagojevich. “But I’m definitely first in the credits,” he added.

Vidal Sassoon could not be reached for comment.

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