Monday, 19 November 2012

Did The Jays Lose The Marlins Trade?

The general opinion going around is that the Toronto Blue Jays up and fleeced the Marlins in their recent massive trade and, in terms immediate baseball talent, they probably did.  And while it will be the most anticipated season in recent memory for Jays fans, I can't help but get an uneasy feeling this trade may come and bite the team in the ass down the road as I look more into it.

First off, the centrepiece of the deal is generally considered to be Jose Reyes, an All Star shortstop and, admittedly, fairly exciting player to watch.  He's been a great player in the past, getting on base at a good but not great clip, and had plus plus speed a few years ago but due to decline and injuries, probably only possesses plus speed at this point.  Arguably the most talented player in the trade, there is no doubt he will contribute significantly over the next few years.

But here's the problem....since Reyes signed a backloaded contract last year with the Marlins, $66 million of his $106 million contract is paid out over his age 32 to 34 seasons.  $10 million was paid out last year, which means the Marlins got one year of him at under market value, which also means that the contract will be over market value down the road.  And considering middle infielders don't age graciously (Jays fans may remember when Robbie Alomar fell off a cliff as a Met) paying Jose Reyes $22 million as a 33 year old might severely limit the Jays roster flexibility in a few years.

Now, one could make an argument that Josh Johnson is the most talented player in the trade (and considering the importance of starting pitcher, he may be the most important to the success of the Jays next year).  However, he has one year at $13.75 mil left on his deal and then hits the open market.  And his agent has made it known he has every intention of testing that open market.  So the Jays are only getting one year out of Johnson and, given his injury history, this may only result in 10-15 starts.

And this is where it starts getting ugly.  Mark Buehrle used to be a pretty solid pitcher.  And while he's not terrible, he's not much more than a decent 4th starter that doesn't miss any bats at this point in his career.  Useful, for sure.  However, due to the backloaded contract he signed last year with Miami (notice a trend starting?), he's due to make $19 million as a 34 year old and $20 million as a 35 year old.  $20 million for an aging number 4 pitcher that can't strike anybody out is a steep price.

John Buck has been terrible the last two years after a flukey season in TO a couple years ago.  If the Jays are playing him regularly, they have issues, which means John Buck is not much more than a $6.5 million bullpen catcher.

Finally, Emilio Bonifacio is a utility infielder with good speed but not a whole lot else.  He's under team control for the next couple seasons and, while useful and reasonably cost effective, he's not going to be a star and probably shouldn't start on a contending team.

So, while the Jays definitely got some big names and talented players, their value is not exactly through the roof.  In fact, the only players they got whose contracts are under market value is a pending UFA (Johnson) and a utility infielder (Bonifacio).  Meanwhile Buck and Buehrle are woefully overpaid and Reyes will probably end up being overpaid.

Meanwhile, they didn't give up a stack of nobodies.  Yunel Escobar may be a head case, but he's also a pretty serviceable middle infielder with a reasonable contract.  Hechevarria and Alvarez both look to be useful guys under team control for the next few years but probably won't make the Jays regret making the trade.   Jake Marisnick is a bit of a boom or bust prospect that could make the Jays regret this trade down the road and turn into a perennial all star....or he could be Andy Marte.  Justin Nicolino is a hard throwing lefty and everyone loves hard throwing lefties, while DeScalfani is a bit far off to accurately project but looks like a potential end of rotation starter.  I'm not sure why the Marlins wanted Jeff Mathis.

If you consider things in terms of monetary value, the Marlins made out pretty good here.  Hell, they might have won.  In exchange for a bunch of players getting paid what they deserve (or more), they got some interesting/useful young players getting paid less than what they're worth.  And if you look at it further, two key pieces of the trade weren't even on the Marlins roster last year.  They signed Reyes and Buerhle as free agents last year, backloaded their contracts, got one season out of each at under market value, realized they weren't a contender, packaged those two players along with an impending UFA and got a package of 4 or 5 decent to good prospects.  That's the kind of shit you used to be able to pull off in GM mode in video games 10 years ago before they adjusted the AI to prevent that shit.

If Jeffery Loria wasn't Jeffrey Loria, this might look like a genius series of moves.  But Jeffrey Loria is a cunt and, when you look at the way things have played out, it seems to point to the following series of events:

1.)  Jeffrey Loria convinces dumbass Florida politicians to build him brand new stadium, promising to increase payroll and cease firesales in the future.  Dumbass Florida politicians believe him, despite the fact he's fucking Jeffrey Loria.

2.)  Jeffrey Loria gets brand new, mostly publicly financed stadium despite being a piece of shit.  Jeffrey Loria proceeds to make good on his initial promise and sign a bunch of players to above market value contracts.  Two keys to each contract:  there aren't any no trade clauses and all the contracts are significantly backloaded.

3.)  Marlins flounder some out of the gate.  Jeffrey Loria, going back on his promise, starts the fire sale, trading Hanley Ramirez and Heath Bell during the season.

4.)  Marlins then dump rest of team in trade to Toronto Blue Jays in the offseason.  Without no trade clauses and the backloaded contracts, Jeffrey Loria was able to create the illusion of spending, with no risk, and really only being out $24 million, which is a small price to pay for a brand new $634 million stadium.  Now their top two highest paid players are Ricky Nolasco ($11.5 mil) and Yunel Escobar ($5 mil).

5.)  Jeffrey Loria sits in brand new, publicly built stadium, collecting revenue sharing cheques and spending the least he can on payroll, making asstons of money to his personal account in the process.

6.)  Hopefully dumbass politicians that trusted Jeffrey Loria don't get re-elected.

Granted, none of this may matter much to Jays fans if the Jays were to make a World Series run, as the time to strike is probably now.  However, if they don't make some sort of run this year or next, expect another 5 or 6 years of trademark Blue Jays mediocrity.

As for Marlins fans........well.....I guess Jeffrey Loria has to die at some point.

Monday, 15 October 2012

Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 30

I'm officially putting Gary Bettman on notice.

I don't even miss hockey anymore.  In fact, if Bettman had any brains, he'd fucking get that CBA figured out immediately because at this point, I don't even know if I need hockey.

I'm on Day 15 of my George St-Pierre workout.  And I'm making that shit work, baby!  I'm on such a roll that I think hockey might just end up getting in the way of my cagefighter training.

Furthermore, my cagefighter training is rubbing off on other aspects of my life.  My vastly improved balance, weight loss and general conditioning has improved my curling game several times over.  I was such a dominant force during my first game of the year that we stopped keeping score after the 2nd end!  BOOM!  POW!

And I feel fucking awesome.  Full of energy.  Shit....I don't even realize I've stayed an hour late at work until someone mentions it....then I'm all like "Well shit...I gotta go home and Rushfit the hell out of everything."

And the other day I had a plate of broccoli for supper.  Broccoli.  Me!!!  WTF!?!?!

But what really has me thinking we don't need hockey was watching Felix Baumgartner, the baddest badass in awesometown take a balloon up to 128,000 feet and then JUMPING THE FUCK OUT!!!  If we had this kind of shit going on all the time, we wouldn't care about hockey and football and stuff.

I actually ended up watching the ascent, all two and a half hours, instead of watching my beloved NFL.  And I didn't regret a moment of it.  There was the badassness of the whole thing.  There was Science! running amok all over everything.  There was some pretty cool engineering.  And I was fully prepared to be let down when he finally did jump.  I thought that there was no way it would be as awesome as I hoped.  But I found myself fully captivated as Felix ran through his final checklist, popped the door open and looked out onto the abyss that man was about to make his bitch.  And it WAS EVERY MOMENT AS AWESOME AS I HOPED!

I honestly think this couldn't have come at a better time.  While the political right in the US seems to be waging an all out war against science, education and fancy book learning, slashing scientific research and general education budgets and waging a war of propaganda against all them fancy book learnin' folks with their fancy degrees that don't know nothin' 'bout the troubles of us honest workin' folk, Red Bull Stratos came and bitch slapped all of that shit down with authority.  They took Felix Baumgartner, professional badass, that has BASE jumped off Taipei 101 (tallest BASE jump) and the hand of the Christ the Redeemer statue (shortest BASE jump), strapped him aboard a capsule connected to a weather balloon, sent him up and had him jump out, breaking the sound barrier.

But while all this was going on, we got to see how awesome science is.  All the engineering work that went into the capsule design.  The constant flight path recalculations.  The accurate estimates on height, top speed, etc.  And the amount of preparation Felix had to do to prepare for the flight.  It was awesome and inspiring.

There needs to be more crazy ass awesome fucking shit like this.  Way more.  And we need to make big media spectacles of this stuff.  Because it's GODDAMN COOL and there is all sorts of other cool shit that kids watching this could aspire to be.  So let's do more of this shit.  We'll get Neil Degrasse Tyson involved.  If it takes a bunch more of the sweet Red Bull money, so be it.  Because society can only become a better place if we're watching more Red Bull Stratos and less Big Bang Theory or The Bachelor.  Shit, I wouldn't even need to watch hockey anymore.

You hear that Gary Bettman?

Tuesday, 2 October 2012

Lockout Protest Day 17: The George St-Pierre Workout Video

I'll admit....I kinda hit a creative lull around Day 10 and stopped blogging my Beardless NHL Lockout Protest....partially because I couldn't think of anything worth posting and partially because I was busy with work and stuff.

But I've still been shaving daily and now I'm back from my sabbatical and ready to kick ass and chew bubblegum.

During my time off, I was able to think of another scheme to try and help force the owners and Gary Bettman into unlocking out the players.  Not only will I continue to shave every day, denying the world my precious gift of beard much like NHL owners deny the world the precious gift of hockey, I will also start working out.  Regularly.  This should scare the shit out of Gary Bettman.


Because I was entirely prepared to spend any and all evenings in which the Jets played sitting on my ass, on the couch, with a six pack of beer, bag of chips, pizza and getting fat all while establishing a vicious routine of comfort that I would then use to justify watching any sort of NHL, even without the Jets playing, every night of the week.  I'd be loyal viewership in that precious male, ages 18-35 demographic that would contribute to ratings and merchandise sales and all sorts of revenue.

But if I establish a workout routine, led by the broken English support and motivation of my new friend George St-Pierre, this introduces way too many variables to my plan.  What if I develop a consistent workout routine?  What if I crave each workout with a driving passion such that I turn off NHL games to start working out?  And, God forbid, what if I start getting in shape and feeling better about myself?

What then?

Maybe I stop eating chips and pizza and start eating carrot sticks and vegetarian, whole wheat pasta.  And then I sit down to watch hockey and find myself restless.  I mean....this new found self-esteem will get me thinking about all the things I could be doing with my life other than watching hockey.  Then I find myself forgetting about hockey entirely, deciding instead to spend my evenings working in a soup kitchen and tutoring underprivileged children with their homework.



Do you ever wonder what happens when a fat man, such as myself, decides to start up something like George St-Pierre's Rushfit?  I'll tell you.

Minute Zero:  Alright....time to start this shit.  (*Receives text message from co-worker: Brad, want to go for some cold ones at Thirsty Lion?*)

Minute Zero, the Next Day:  Okay....this time for real...gonna start some Rushfit.  Bring it on, you dirty French surrender monkey.  I've been biking 30 K, six days a week for three months.  I've been playing hockey.  I've been lifting weights and doing situps and stretching.  I'm ready for you.

Minute Five (Warm-up Round):  Well, this isn't so bad.  Breathing hard.  Starting to break a bit of a sweat.  Haven't pulled anything, which is surprising.  Really thought my back would have given out by now.  Must be all that biking.

Minute Eight (Warm-up Round, still):  I'm going to get through this.  I'm going to come in here, Day 1, make Rushfit my bitch and get fucking RIPPED AND JACKED!  BOOYEAH!  I'm even keeping pace with Mr. World Champion himself.

Minute Ten (End of Warm-up, Real Round 1):  Okay.  Now for the real deal.  I'm sweating, but so is GSP.  All this biking has made me a fucking fitness champion.  Sure, I'm a bit doughy looking still, but that's just residual fat from years of binge eating and depression.  I probably have a six-pack and shit under there.  Today I AM A FITNESS CHAMP.  What's this?  Air squats? Child's play!

Minute 13 (Still Round 1):  Man....this is really starting to burn the old leg muscles.  I mean....there is some muscle on the outside of my thighs that GODDAMN BURNS LIKE HELL.  I don't even know what this muscle is called because I NEVER KNEW IT FUCKING EXISTED BEFORE.  Jesus Christ, when are we getting to the core and upper body workouts.

Minute 15 (End of Round 1):  DEAR GOD!  Thank-you for this 40 second break.  Oh, water, precious life-blood of humanity.  How you quench mine thirst.  You taste so delicious and sacred...I shall never drink any other liquid ever again.

Minute 16 (Round 2):  FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY!  More goddamn air squats!?!?!?

Minute 17 (Still Round 2):  OH FUCK!  How the HELL am I supposed to do these goddamn burpee style things when it feels like there is a GODDAMN KNIFE stabbed into the mystery muscle on the side of my GODDAMN THIGH!'re a fucking've focused, committed and aren't going to let a little bit of pain fucking let you down.  you're mind's still sharp....the spirit is willing.....LET'S FUCKING DO THIS SHIT!

.....goddamn...why can't I do this.....why, leg, won't you push goddamn brain is sending you a fucking signal to push up....i don't care if it burns and you're tired....we're a team and we're fucking's not like its ripping or tearing or're just a GODDAMN PUSSY.  PUSH THE FUCK UP!

Minute 18 - 35 (Middle of Round 2 to end of Round 4):  Lying in a sweaty heap of fat, out of shape, unathletic patheticness on the floor, wondering how it ever got to this.

Minute 36 (Round 5):  Alright.....let's fucking give 'er this last round and call it a success.  CHAMPS DON'T QUIT.....

Minute 41 (End of Round 5):  Holy shit...made it through that round.  FUCK and YES!  Completed Day 1.  I mean....there are a lot of champs out there that take at least 2/5ths of the game off.  I mean, Tom Brady has played in 5 Super Bowls, won 3 of them, and he only plays 50% of the game.


Oh sweet....Cajun Justice marathon!

Thursday, 27 September 2012

Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 12

I'd like to note that Day 11 is the day we all lost hope in the NHL resolving their issues in time for a season.  Things have moved from mild outrage an exhausted apathy.  TSN shamefully threw in the towel and started airing European hockey league highlights.  In what I only assume was an attempt to appeal to our nostalgic idea of when hockey existed in a simpler time, TSN has ripped through the '87 Canada Cup and the '72 Summit Series.  And Sportsnet...well....nobody watches Sportsnet except when NFL is on and they black out NFL Network.

Now, TSN did air a "What Happened To.." feature on Manon Rheaume.  And she's still totally hot and a total milf and I'd definitely bang her, so at least there was that.

In beardless news, I discovered today that my beard is a key component to my water fountain usage at work.  When I use the water fountain, any water that doesn't quite get in my mouth now runs down my face, down my chin and drips all over the floor.  This is an issue because I like to make long, intense, awkward eye contact with another guy from work who's office window looks directly out at the water fountain.  Now, a giant, potentially hazardous, puddle of water forms under the water fountain.  With my beard, the water would trap and bead in my beard and safely drip back into the water fountain drain.

Also, since I'm bitter about the lockout and want to be a bitter, angry downer, the following are things that way too many people like that actually suck:

1.) Dane Cook
2.) Big Bang Theory
3.) Mumford & Sons
4.) Srkillex
5.) Russell Peters

Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 11

My new goal is to buy an NHL team.  I don't even care which one.  I'll even buy the Panthers and keep them in Florida move them to Juarez, Mexico if that's what Bettman decides I need to do to get in.

I really only want to do this so I can be the lone dissenting voice amongst the ownership group.  Because all we ever hear is how the owners are unified and 100% behind Gary Bettman.  Which is BULLSHIT!  Just look at True North.  You can't tell me they're too happy having a lockout.  They made a bunch of money...they have a hockey hungry market with guaranteed revenues for the foreseeable future and they certainly don't want to be disenchanting a shit load of casual fans that got caught up in the hype and hysteria last year.  Oh....and one has to imagine a significant chunk of money was freed up from other investments in order to purchase the team last year.  That's a lot of money that could be collecting interest or invested into high rate of return investments that is currently tied up in a business making absolutely no money.

All I want is to go all Mark Cuban on everyone's ass and piss the living fuck out of Jeremy Douche Geyser Jacobs and go public saying I don't support Bettman or the other owners.

So, in order to buy an NHL team, I'm gonna need a shitload of cash.  And, while I would have been able to pimp myself out to tons of hot bitches and make shitloads of money as a high class manwhore, I currently lack the amazing beard to do so.  So this means I need to concoct a crazy money making scheme.  So I present to you the Stranglebator 3500!

Now, while I strongly believe stranglebator survival rates showed be determined by some sort of Darwinian function, I'm also a capitalist that isn't going to shy away from a business opportunity when I see one.  I have identified that stranglebating is a high risk activity that is in need of adequate safety equipment.  Not only do stranglebators risk death each time they get down to business...they also run the even bigger risk of dying while stranglebating and having this information go public.  Nobody wants to be the next Michael Hutchence or David Carradine.  Remember....when you die is not nearly as important as how you die.  And nobody wants to die while simultaneously choking themselves and masturbating.

And this is where the Stranglebator 5000 comes in.  I envision it being some sort of quick release mechanism that could be electronically actuated.  Your belt or other strangling device would be attached to this and the apparatus could be mounted to a door knob or bathroom hook or whatever stranglebators use.  This device would be wired to a PLC (programmable logic controller).  Also wired to the PLC would be a pair of accelerometer wristbands, that would send a signal to the PLC when the accelerometers detected movement.

Now, if the accelerometers are detecting above a certain threshold of movement, this means all is well and the user can continue to do what they're doing.  If, for whatever reason, the accelerometer is not sending a large enough signal back to the PLC (ie. the wrist bands are no longer moving), it will send a signal to the quick release mechanism to actuate, releasing the choking device and allowing air to flow to the users lungs before they completely pass out and die.

Tuesday, 25 September 2012

Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 10

So, whilst I was angrily and frustratingly shaving, it donned on me that I only have one razor blade.  And considering the last time I purchased shaving equipment was probably sometime in 2006ish, it began to don on me that I'm probably way behind the razor technology curve.  I'm still rocking a Gilette Mach 3 that I got for free in some promotional handout of hygiene products way back during my first year of university.  I assume this handout was 10% promotional and 90% trying to get computer science students to use deodorant.

Back to the lockout, though.  If this thing drags out much longer I'm going to need to buy some more razor blades.  And I assume the Mach 3 is no longer in circulation.  I'm sure it was left in a cloud of dust during the great razor blade race of the mid-2000's.  I don't even know how many blades we're up to.  I assume we're probably around 6 by now.  Someone should do a study to determine the razor blade asymptote.


In other lockout news, the NFL referee lockout.....clusterfuck doesn't even do it justice.  I actually turned off the game Monday night about halfway through the fourth quarter.  There was a play where the Seahawks QB through a pretty good pass into one-on-one coverage.  The Green Bay corner, I believe it was Shields, covered the play brilliantly.  As a football fan, it was a thing of beauty how he kept pace stride for stride, turned around, located the ball and then made a brilliant play on it, breaking up the pass.  It was text book and one of those plays that makes me appreciate how talented some of these players are.  So of course the ref threw a pass interference flag on the play.  It was such a horrible call on such a well executed play that it was my breaking point.  I had to shut off the TV because these refs have basically reduced the game to "drunken, blindfolded hobo jacking off onto a dart board" levels of randomness.

And apparently it got worse.

After watching all the highlights, the big take away for me is that Pete Carroll is fucking clownshoes.  I say this because after the debacling by the refs during the Sunday night game, Harbaugh and Belichick met each other in the field and shook hands.  Both coaches seemed to give knowing looks that what just happened was a gong show and that the result of this game, outside of the standings, was basically meaningless in terms of one team or the other gaining any advantage in the decent rivalry building between the two teams.  Both coaches realized this was a potentially great game ruined by the officials and neither team was pleased with how it played out.

Carroll, meanwhile, was celebrating and fist pumping like a fucking moron and constantly refuses to acknowledge that the victory is a result of pure, dumb, incompetent luck.  Harbaugh, while definitely going to take the win, seems to have too much respect for the game, the players and the coaches he goes up against.  And this is why Carroll is clownshoes.

Monday, 24 September 2012

Brad's Beardless NHL Protest: Day 9

While it may be true that most NHL players are really just Co-op Farm Supply water truck drivers and phys. ed. teachers that showed a little too much drive and work ethic for those positions and are only millionaires because of our society's probably misplaced value system in which we put our desire to be entertained well ahead of our desire to not go into massive credit card debt so we can afford season tickets, I thought it would be fun to Wikipedia some owners and see what their deal is.

Also, it will give me an idea of some secondary businesses that these owners own that I can boycott.

Today, I selected Stan Kroenke, owner of the Colorado Avalanche.  I picked him from the list because I'm pretty sure he owned an NFL team at one point.

So it says here Kroenke's wife is the daughter of Wal-Mart co-founder Bud Walton and they inherited Bud's stake in Wal-Mart when he died.  This is off to a flying start, because I already have a Wal-Mart boycott!  Fuck those fucks.

Besides owning the Colorado Avalanche, he also "owns" the Denver Nuggets, Colorado Rapids (MLS) and Colorado Mammoth (NLL).  All these teams are technically listed as owned by Josh Kroenke so that Stan can also own the St. Louis Rams and get around NFL owner restrictions (there's that NFL team I thought he owned).  Stan is also the majority owner of Arsenal, which is in some homosexual soccer league.  Not that there's anything wrong with that.

I guess Stan is one of those guys that should be lumped in with all the rest of the hard-working, smart, job-creating owners of the NHL that assume all the risks and allow the cattle to graze at their ranch.  After all, he had an excellent business model of marrying some rich broad who's daddy was a multi-billionaire.  And like any trophy husband, he wanted a few nice toys to keep him happy so his wife bought him some sports franchises.  And what do trophy husbands do with the toys afforded them by their sugar mommas?  Umm......concern themselves with the bottom line???????  Ummm....hmmm..

Maybe, considering all that fat Wal-Mart money he's been using to buy sports teams, the Wal-Mart guys were all like "Stan...we'll give you some fat Wal-Mart cash to buy these sports teams as long you maintain our proud tradition of employee exploitation that we've worked long and hard at to establish."

Sunday, 23 September 2012

Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout: Day 8

Wither, Jets Zubaz
For you shall remain unused
And I am beardless

Saturday, 22 September 2012

Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 7...The One Where Brad Realizes He Faces a Sarah Orleskyless Winter

A terrifying realization came over me yesterday when watching the Bombers game:

If there is an NHL lockout, I am going to spend all winter without my future girlfriend and wife, TSN Jets sideline reporter Sarah Orlesky.  Sarah Orlesky is the most beautiful woman in the world of sideline reporters and her beauty is multiplied by a factor of several thousand considering she brings Winnipeg Jets games into my home and onto my TV screen.

I had it all planned out.  I'd watch Sarah for about a quarter of the season to get my confidence up and then I'd make my move.  I'd wait for a home game that I had tickets to that was also being broadcast on TSN Jets.  A few days before the game I'd set up an elaborate trap using a bag of cheeseburgers to lure Gary Lawless into a janitor's closet.  Once he took the bait and entered the closet, I'd lock the door and trap him in there for a good day or two.  The bag of cheeseburgers will be gone within an hour and he will eventually be trapped in there without food and become excruciatingly hungry.  (*Note to self:  make sure to remove any remotely edible items such as urinal pucks, as we can't assume Lawless won't try and eat them).

Next I'd secretly place a package of bacon in Sarah Orlesky's purse.  Then, just before the Lawless and Order segment, I'd release Lawless from the closet.  He'd immediately sniff out the package of bacon in Sarah Orlesky's purse and wildly begin to attack her.  I would then rush in to Sarah Orlesky's defence with a garbage bag full of steaks.  I'd slowly lure the 8 Chinned Beast away from her with the steaks and then, when he gets close, throw the steaks in front of a moving bus because I might as well do all Winnipeg Jets fans a favor while I'm saving Sarah Orlesky.  Sarah Orlesky would naturally fall in love with me for saving her from the savage, multi chinned monster, I'd become a local hero and be awarded the key to the city and Sarah Orlesky and I would get married and have kids that would grow up to be Norris Trophy winning hockey players and Lingerie Football League MVPs and Sarah Orlesky and I would grow old watching the Winnipeg Jets winning Stanley Cup after Stanley Cup.

At least that was the plan before this goddamn lockout happened that forced me to shave off my beard out of protest.

The fact that Gary Bettman would deny the world a winter of Sarah Orlesky proves that not only is he unworthy of my forgiveness, he's unworthy of Jesus' forgiveness.  And Jesus forgave George Clooney for Batman & Robin.

Friday, 21 September 2012

Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 6

Dear Mohammed,

I am writing to you because, well, Jesus stopped answering my prayers years ago and I'm desperate.  You also strike me as the kind of guy that allegedly hates America and is opposed to the shaving of beards, so I think you'll be interested to hear my plea.

Basically, I'm cruelly being forced to shave off my beard on a daily basis.  As someone that is staunchly pro beard, it pains me to do so every day.  And it probably pisses you off to no end, considering your religion's stance on beards.  But this is not my fault.  In the words of Walter Sobchak, it's "THOSE FUCKS DOWN AT THE LEAGUE OFFICE" of the NHL that force me to do so, out of protest, since they've decided to impose a lock out on the upcoming NHL season.  I implore you to work your magic and force this issue into resolution.

I would also like to point out that Americans don't really give a shit about hockey.  Right now, its mostly Canadians, Russians and Fins that suffer the most.  Those dirty, godless Swedes suffer, too, but they're dirty, godless Swedes so we should not care about their suffering.  And, by stepping in and ending the lockout quickly, the rich, capitalist pig American league owners will be saddled with a less desirable CBA, limiting their ability to make as much money.  I don't know if you actually hate America or not, but if you do, here's your chance to stick it to a few of them.



PS - I realize asking for a Bombers win tonight would be a bit ridiculous....but would it be too much to ask for you to have them cover the spread?

PPS - I apologize for that last request.  I realize it was unreasonable.

Thursday, 20 September 2012

Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 5

I think I'm getting a cold.  And, while I don't want to jump to conclusions here, I think it's related to standing in the middle of a bean field for 14 hours on Tuesday, freezing my face off.  Except that I wouldn't have been freezing my face off had I had the insulating magic of a stately beard.  And I would still have had that stately beard if Gary Bettman and his band of tripe wallowing swine hadn't staged a lockout.  Thanks a lot, assholes!

And you know what pisses me off about this goddamn lockout besides there not being hockey and not having a goddamn beard?

This lockout out has given all these self-righteous cock gobblers out there more fuel to spew there "Well I think athletes are overpaid and they shouldn't make more money than doctors or teachers or fire fighters or police officers" bullshit.  Because let's face it....this line of thinking is bullshit.

We live in fucking North America.  Capitalism rules, baby.  And if you don't like it, get the fuck out, you communist hippie!

At least this seems to be the general attitude from the majority of the population.

So, while these douchers whine and bitch and moan about overpaid players making more than doctors and lawyers, the moment the government mentions the words "raising" and "taxes", which is what would probably be required to pay teachers and doctors and fire fighters and police officers in this country since these services are all offered free of charge to the average citizen, you might as well have just strapped that person down and taken a large dump right in their mouth.  Because they will go down, kicking and screaming, trying to fight against any sort of increase in taxes to prevent the "damn government" from taking all their "hard earned money".

But, if the local sports franchise in which they hold season tickets to, decides to raise season ticket prices yet again that year, they will mumble and grumble a little bit, but when it comes time to renew those tickets, you bet your ass they will fork over the several thousands of dollars required to do so.

So, if capitalism rules and the free market dictates value, who's overpaid?

Wednesday, 19 September 2012

Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 4

So the NHL cancelled preseason games.  And, while True North IS offering a refund or credit for the tickets I've purchased (True North....sigh....too bad they're lumped in with other douche volcanoes like Ed Snider and Jeremy "Eat A Fucking Dick" Jacobs), the NHL has not offered me any sort of refund on the NHL merchandise I have purchased to be a super fan and wear to said preseason games.

By my calculation, I spent about $600 on various Jets merchandise.  So if we take two games out of 43 home games, that is 4.6% of value lost on my purchases.  So I expect to see a cheque in the mail for $27.90 from the NHL to make up for the decrease in value of goods I purchased from them, seeing as the lockout does not count as an act of God, but instead is entirely a result of the owners refusing to allow hockey to happen.  And speaking of God, clearly God does not exist because you can't just give Winnipeg hockey fans hockey and then suddenly tear it away from us like candy from a baby.

And did I mention that I still have no beard?  I shaved again this morning.  My face looked like a freshly shorn scrotum.

Also, while I'm discussing hockey related protests, I'd like to mention that EA Sports can go and die.  Not only did they ruin football games when they negotiated an exclusive rights contract with the NFL, spelling the end for the far superior NFL 2K series, they've also ruined sports games in general.

And here is why: EA Sports games are cheap fucking cunts.

Because they can't be bothered with developing proper physics and AI in their games, they have to program in Fuck You Mode into all of their sports games to ensure that final scores are close.  In hockey, the Fuck You Mode is controlled through their goalies.  If you start winning to many games, suddenly you play a game against James Reimer and you get 78 shots, most of them excellent scoring chances and you score 1 fucking goal.  Meanwhile, you have Tim Fucking Thomas in net, he faces 7 shots and lets in 5 goals and you lose the game 5-1.

NHL 10, the last EA sports game I will ever buy, had some "intelligent" handicapping system that would "increase" the difficulty of the computer opponent (mostly by making the computer's goalie Hasek in his prime and your goalie Andre Racicot in his prime) in order to create a consistent level playing field.  The problem is you can't fucking turn off this adaptive setting so if you don't play the game for a few months and decide to pick it up again and continue your franchise, you just get hammered in the ass 8-0 for six games in a row before opening up your X-Box, ripping out the disc and fucking annihilating it in a rage of pure anger and hate and then taking a pair of scissors and stabbing Dion Phaneuf's cunt face on the box.  (Actual story that happened.)

Now, some people may argue this is just a sore loser theory or whatever.  But I also own Tiger Woods Golf.  And I've noticed something about it when playing a tournament.  If, in you're first round, you shoot some ridiculous score like 20 under, the computer opponents will suddenly shoot between 15 and 25 under for the next three rounds.  I found this out when I had the round of my life one day during round one of a tournament.  I then shot respectable scores of 5 under and 6 under and didn't make the cut.  I replayed the exact same tournament but decided to purposely shoot a +15 in my first round.  The computer opponent's scores normalized around +10 for the next three rounds and I shot around 5 under the last three rounds and ABSOLUTELY CRUSHED THE FIELD.

If that's not proof EA doesn't program Fuck You Mode into their games, I don't know what is.

So EA Sports can eat fucking dicks and get herpes and die.

Tuesday, 18 September 2012

Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 3

Gary Bettman can eat a dick.  Why?  Because today I froze my face off standing in the middle of a soybean field for 14 hours, in the cold, in the wind.  Why?  Because I no longer have a beard to protect my delicate face skin and meat.  Why?  Because I shaved off my beard, with its protective thermal insulating layer of beard hairs.  Why?  To protest the NHL lockout.  Why?  Because Gary Bettman can eat a dick.

Monday, 17 September 2012

Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 2

First off, shaving every day is bullshit.  That's like seven minutes of porn I've wantonly decided to forego each day.  That's time I'll never get back.  Hope you're happy Gary Bettman.

Second, I cut myself shaving today.  Which led to blood.  That blood is on your hands Gary Bettman and various NHL owners.  That blood is on YOUR GODDAMN HANDS!  You could end this madness right now by ending the lockout instead of having myself and the rest of the world unnecessarily suffer without my beard.

Sunday, 16 September 2012

Brad's NHL Lockout Protest: Day 1

At the suggestion of WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-TYLER!!!!!!, I've decided to wage a protest against the NHL owners, commissioner Gary Bettman and their precious little NHL lockout.  And how will I do so?  Well, if the NHL is going to deny the world the precious gift of hockey than I shall, in return, deny the world the precious gift of beard.

That's right, folks.....despite being blessed with the incredible gift of beard.....a beard so majestic and powerful that others not blessed with the precious gift of beard are able to live their lives vicariously through it, I have decided to deny the world this beautiful creation of god until the NHL decides to no longer deny the world the wonderful, courtly and monumental recreation that warms the cockles of hearts known as hockey.

As such, I have decided to shave off my beard.  And I shalst continue shaving my beard until such a time as the NHL removes the lockout and provides the world with hockey, instead of withholding it on some sort of power trip.

Now, I don't have a digital camera so I will have to provide an artistic approximation of the before shot:

And now, thanks to the cold hearts and vengeful minds over at NHL headquarters, I present to you the artistic approximation of how I now appear, sans beard:

Truly hideous.  How will Gary Bettman and his owner cronies be able to sleep at night knowing the world is now such a hideous place and one of the god's greatest gifts to mankind is being denied on a daily basis?  How will they be able to sleep at night knowing that, with each passing day of the lockout, I will continue to not get laid due to my newfound hideousness?  And what happens when winter comes and my sensitive face skin is no longer protected from the harsh cold by a comforting, insulating layer of beard?  Do they have no humanity?

Thursday, 23 August 2012


I couldn't figure out how to turn on the shower in my hotel room the other day.  I'm an engineer, so I should be able to figure this shit out.  But I couldn't, so naturally I assumed it was broken instead of embarrassingly going to the front desk and asking the teen mom high school drop out at the front desk how their fancy showers work.

So I decided to take a bath.

And I reached the conclusion that baths suck.

First off, I went to fill the bath.  Now, as a kid, the goal was always to fill that sonofabitch up as high as you could to best simulate a swimming pool as much as possible.  So that's what I did, not realizing that my body displaces a lot more volume than it did as a kid.  So step one quickly became a failure when 15 gallons of bath water went flying over the edge of the tub the moment I got in.

So now I'm in the tub and I'm a big, tall guy and so I'm kinda hunching and squirming to get in under the water and I kinda gotta flail my legs out the end and then scrunch my back all up and once I finally get comfortable I realize that I'm just staring at my dick and my dick's staring back at me.  It was an uncomfortable, slightly awkward moment.  I decided that instead of lying there, staring at my dick, I'd better get down to business.

Now, I couldn't just slide my back down further and get my hair wet to begin the shampooing process because my legs were already hanging out of the tub and my ass was already against the far end and I had no more room to slide down.  So I had to get back up, fucking turn around on all fours and then dunk my head under water.  And as I'm dunking my head under water, I realize my ass is now pointed straight up in the air, just ready to get buggered by whatever redneck Oklahoman was about to burst into my room.  Not that there was a redneck Oklahoman ready to bust into my room and bugger me, it was just the crippling vulnerability I felt at that moment that made me decide to skip the shampooing process all together.

So I decided to lather up the soap and get on with that whole process.  Of course, I don't fit in this tub at all, so I have to stand up in the tub to lather up.  So now I'm standing, freezing my ass off, lathering myself up with soap and wondering why the fuck I just didn't tell my pride to eat a dick and go ask the damn girl at the front desk how their goddamned, three sea-shelling fucking shower worked.

But I'm lathered up now and awkwardly get back down in the tub to rinse off.  And here's the other problem with a bath: when you go to rinse off, all the goddamn soap suds just float at the top of the bath water and when you get out of the tub you're still covered in soap residue.  So you dunk yourself under again, yet no matter how many times you repeat the process, you're still covered in goddamn soap scum.

So, while I pondered draining the tub, filling it with fresh water and then dunking myself under again, I realized this whole process shit the bed half an hour ago and I simply decided "Fuck it!" and got dressed and went for dinner.

Baths are bullshit.

Tuesday, 14 August 2012

Pornstar Names

I think its important for pornstars to have unpopular names like Bunny or Bambi or Roxy or Kitty.  Because if they had popular names, they might end up sharing a name with your mom or grandma or something.  And people probably wouldn't want to jerk off to some girl with the same name as their mom.

Thursday, 9 August 2012

Getting Old

I'm going to be 30 soon, which makes me old and past my prime.  Which is pretty sad because it means I accomplished pretty much fuck all in my prime.  Bascially, I spent my prime getting older and fatter.  The double threat.

But I think I also got a bit wiser.  And so I will dispense this wisdom to others, especially the kids out there:  Don't bother with having dreams.

Now, I know that most people will read that and say "Oh, that's terrible.  What a horrible thing to say.  He's just so bitter and jaded and everyone needs to have dreams."  And then they're going to go and watch some bullshit "inspiring" movie or tv show that ignores any trace of how the world actually works in order to try and inspire people and make them feel good about their shitty lives.   But the average person is going to work a shitty job, get heartbroken, end up in a shitty relationship with someone they resent, get some sort of illness and things aren't going to magically work themselves out and tie things up in a nice little bow.'re either going to die too early or you're going to retire without enough money saved up and live way longer than you expected.

(This is essentially why I hate all country music made after 1985.  Pre-1985, country musicians wrote songs about being heartbroken or having shitty jobs or what have you, then getting right fucking drunk out of their minds and, surprisingly, this doesn't solve anything, but only makes it worse.  That's essentially how life works.  All country music made after 1985 is all sappy, not anchored in any sort of reality, bullshit. wife got terminally ill with cancer and is going to die in 10 months.  But hey!  She's pregnant!  She had a little girl but my wife died during childbirth.  But hey!  The little girl reminds me of my now dead wife!  Life's little miracle!  OR job sucks and my girl left me.  Let's get consequence free drunk for the next week and that will solve all of our problems.  OK!  Hey look, after a week of being blasted I nailed this hot chick, I got a job working for NASCAR and my rich uncle gave me a new pick-up truck.  Drinking is awesome!)

But, essentially, the vast majority of your hopes and dreams will either: a.) get crushed or b.) slowly fade into non-existence.  Sure, there are examples of lucky assholes overcoming the odds, but these people are the exception and not the rule.

For example, consider the list of hopes and dreams you had when you were 10.  My list probably looked something like this:

1.) Play in the NHL and MLB
2.) Own all the Nintendo games ever made
3.) Marry Kim Basinger
4.) Become a Navy Seal, astronaut and/or bad-ass crime solving detective
5.) Live in a pyramid
6.) Buy a truck with any sort of college fund money bequeathed to me
7.) Become a world famous musician playing the homemade stacking stool drum kit

This list not only shows how unrealistic our hopes and dreams can be, but also how dumb I was as a kid.  Who would want to live in a fucking pyramid?  It's got like one fucking room, there's death traps all around, no lights, no electricity.  I used to think that a pyramid would be a giant mansion in prism form, however, in reality, it would make for a terrible, shitty place to live and would certainly not help you get laid.

The NHL dream died when we no longer had enough kids in our town to have a hockey team one year.  Although probably before that.  Nintendo was replaced by Super Nintendo, then N64, then something else and now its a Wii or something.  That's a lot of games I would never play.  I remember wanting to marry Kim Basinger after watching some movie where she robbed a bank.  I think its because its the first time I noticed how awesome boobs were.

I did buy a truck, but instead of using my college fund money that I wasn't going to need because of my NHL career, I had to invest that money in a college education and then use that education to get a job, using the money from the job to buy the truck.  And even was just a fucking Ranger.  So that's like 0.5 out of 7 success rate.

So let's go forward 10 years.  I'm now 20 and in university.

1.) Graduate university.
2.) Get a job that doesn't suck.
3.) Meet a girl and fall in love.
4.) Get married.
5.) Have kids.
6.) Buy a modestly price, fuel efficient car.
7.) Buy a house.

So I got numbers 1-3 knocked off the list.  Then 4 was an abject failure.  Which did not lend itself well to completing number 5.  The most fuel efficient car I bought was a Grand Am.  And then I bought an even less fuel efficient Ranger.  And I bought a shitty condo.

For the record, I do not recommend knocking off number 3 on that list and failing at number 4.  That's a bad combination that leads to alcohol and binge eating.  And not the magic alcohol that Toby Keith speaks about that makes all life's problems fade into a drunken haze of good times.  It's more of the Hank Sr. alcohol that suppresses things into the recesses of your soul, lingering there, making appearances at inopportune times.

So that gives me a 3 out of 7 success rate.  You'll also notice that this new list of goals is a lot more attainable than the 10 year old me list, and I'm still not even batting .500.  Total score: 3.5 out of 14.

What are my goals now that I'm 30?  Well:

1.) Don't die before I'm 50
2.) Sell shitty condo and buy slightly less shitty house
3.) Avoid becoming dependent on alcohol
4.) Don't get arthritis or back pain
5.) Save money so I can one day afford to retire
6.) Don't get erectile dysfunction (which really doesn't matter after number 4 and 5 from my age 20 list didn't get carried over to this list)
7.) Win my hockey pool

That's pretty much it.  None of these are really dreams, anymore.  They're not even goals.  They're hopes.  And they're simply hoping against negative things.  Most of these should be achievable but history suggests that between 2 and 5 of these will be complete failures.  And if it's 5 of them, you may as well hope number 1 is on that list.

So that's pretty much it.  In a 20 year period you go from dreaming of playing in the NHL or some other long shot awesome thing to hoping a whole bunch of terrible shit doesn't happen to you.

Friday, 3 August 2012

Sucking Dick

I've never sucked a dick.  And while there exist certain scenarios in which I would suck a dick, I feel pretty comfortable saying I probably never will suck a dick.

What I find troubling is the list of things I'd put in my mouth before I'd put a dick in my mouth.

Knives, loaded guns, random poo found on jogging paths, miscellaneous items found at the dump.....I don't think I'm alone in saying that I'd way rather put these things in my mouth before I'd put a dick in my mouth.  I guess chicks would probably choose a dick, so I suppose I'm talking about dudes here.

Even more troubling, is that if I found myself in a scenario in which someone were willing to pay me to put certain items in my mouth, I'd probably require significantly less money to put a rusty knife we found at the dump in my mouth than it would for me to put a dick in my mouth.  And that's weird.

It's weird because putting a dick in your mouth is probably a very harmless thing to do.  If we assume this is an aids free dick with no diseases or infections, putting a dick in your mouth would probably be among the safest things to put in your mouth.  And yet there is such a huge mental block with putting a dick in my mouth that I'd probably find it more acceptable to put a rusty knife we found lying in a pile of random poo at the dump into my mouth.

So, really, our reluctance to put a dick in our mouth is not founded on any sort of health or safety issue but rather is entirely a mental thing.  And yet I'd still rather put a rusty knife, covered in random poo that we found lodged into some dead guy we found at the dump into my mouth .  Does this make me a homophobe?  Or do I just have mental issues I need to work out?  I mean logically, I should choose putting a dick in my mouth in the scenario mentioned above and yet I wouldn't.  And willingly choosing an illogical choice over a logical one would seem to suggest a mental issue.  I don't know.....

Thursday, 2 August 2012

Being Fat

Awhile ago I woke up and I realized I was fat.  This can be a troubling thing.  See, most people are either born fat or get fat over time.  You've either been fat your whole life and gotten used to it or you've slowly noticed yourself getting fat and said "Fuck it...I'm gonna be fat.  That's just how it's gonna be."  And then you have another cheeseburger and coke and spend your evenings playing online video games and watching terrible, terrible TV sitcoms.

But when you wake up fat, that's terrifying shit.  You remember being in reasonable shape and then one day you look in the mirror and think "Son of a bitch. I got fat.  Dammnit."  Now, I obviously didn't get fat overnight.  There wasn't some regret bowl of ice cream that I just went way too overboard on with sprinkles and chocolate sauce and then, after finishing the bowl I just grabbed the whole fucking tub and sat in front of the TV all night eating ice cream and watching The Notebook and then in the morning I got fat and cursed the damn ice cream.  I assume I got fat over time, probably during a lengthy bout of depression, and didn't really realize until one day I got shortwinded vacuuming or some other menial task.

Now, when you get fat overnight, you refuse to go out and buy all new clothes that fit properly.  You just buy a few to tide you over until you get back in shape.  There's no point spending a bunch of unnecessary money on clothes that you aren't going to need in a few months.

The problem with this line of thinking is that you're not going get back in shape.  You keep thinking you will, but its not ever going to happen.

First off, you can't just go and get a gym membership.  I mean you might, but after a few embarrassing sessions of 12 sit-ups, 5 push-ups and half a chin-up, you're pride kicks in.  Because, after all, the last time you did physical activity, you were in shape.  You could do, I dunno, a fucking hundred sit-ups and 20 chin-ups and not even lose a breath.  But now you can't do shit.  And your pride comes into play, because you aren't familiar with these common fat man problems, and you just can't fucking do what you think you should, you get embarrassed and dejected and you end up just saying "Fuck it!" and quitting.

See, people that have been fat for a long time don't have this problem.  If they enroll in a gym and go do 5 situps and a push-up its empowering because they've made the conscious decision to put down the Big Gulp, get up off the couch and take control of their lives.  They've got a positive, can-do attitude and people applaud whatever minor achievement they can reach.  These people are heroes.  But a new fat guy that's let just let himself go?  

"Pfftt...look at that fat fuck.  I bet he can't even last 2 minutes on the treadmill.  What a piece of shit!"

And I'd be like " wouldn't be able to.  I'm just an out of shape, fat piece of shit."

So you quickly realize the gym just isn't an option.  Because even if you can get past the initial hit to your pride of not being able to do what you once were able to, your competitive nature that helped keep you in shape back in the day is still there and you want to try and keep pace with the douche jock that goes to the gym so he can show off his biceps that compensate for his tiny penis to a bunch of shallow women.  So you see him benching a shitload of weight and you don't want to pull up beside him and start benching an empty bar or whatever pathetic weight you've decided to start at.  And so you overload the bar and completely throw out your back in two reps.  Assuming you can even fucking left it in the first place.

After giving up on the gym experience, you decide "Maybe I should just fucking start jogging."  I mean, jogging's bullshit, but it seems like the sort of exercise that can be performed in private without the judging eyes of others and you can go at your own pace and all that shit.  If someone blows past you on the jogging path and you're huffing and puffing and sweating and going half a mile an hour you can always just say "Yeah... 24 miles and on my last one.  Pushing hard to set a new personal best."

So you buy some runners and decide to take up jogging.  But there's two major problems you quickly experience when jogging as a fat man: number one is that you now have an additional 50 lbs of weight on your frame then you used to and your knees and other joints really don't like the impact with all that extra weight.  And you jog two blocks and your knees have a searing pain in them like some mobster henchman is sticking rusty knives into your joints, torturing you before he inevitably shoots you in the head and dumps your body off a bridge.

The second problem is that you've probably developed a big gut and possibly even tits and this fleshy material is flabby and jiggly.  And when you start jogging it starts hitting a natural frequency and bouncing up and down with greater and greater amplitudes until the whole system is oscillating like Galloping Gertie, ready to implode upon itself.

The jogging plan ends quickly.  Next you decide to go all Charles Atlas and just do sit-ups and push-ups and jumping jacks and lift barbells at home.  But here's the problem with this plan:  you don't have some dumbass jock working out beside you that you're secretly pushing yourself to try and keep pace with so you can proudly think to yourself "Yeah...look at that you cocksucking jock.  A FAT man just kept pace with you.  I bet that makes you and your tiny penis that you're currently trying to overcompensate for feel good."  So you don't have that extra motivating factor.  You do, like, 12 sit-ups, feel a slight discomfort and think that's enough sit-ups.  And you do 5 push-ups and your arms start to burn a bit and you think that's good enough.  Gotta go slow.  Don't want to hurt myself.  So after 1 month you're up to 15 situps, 8 push-ups and you've lost exactly 0 lbs.  

After a 2nd month with zero return on investment you give up on that shit, too.  And by this point you've been fat long enough that you've familiarized yourself with fat man problems, gotten used to being fat and eventually decide "Well...fuck it.  I guess I'm just going to be fat."  And so you continue on as a fat fuck, eating cheeseburgers and ice cream and watching A&E marathons until one day you have a heart attack.

Sunday, 6 May 2012

Facebook Being a Dick

Sometimes Facebook is the dickest thing ever.  Like today, when, inexplicably, Facebook decided to post a bunch of pictures of a certain girl in my newsfeed.  I don't know why, considering we are not friends on the Facebooks.  But there is a history between myself and this particular girl, and one I enjoyed up to a point and then did not enjoy.

And she looked as beautiful as ever.  So I poured myself a man's man's rye.  Or 5.

Her last name is still the same, for what that's worth.  It seems both good and bad.  Bad, because I think she would make an awesome mom and I know that that was one of the things she wanted out of life and I assume she has not reached that point in life yet.

But there is also a piece of my heart (a large piece, like pretty much all of it) that, no doubt hopelessly, one day hopes she, for whatever reason, picks up the phone and gives me a call.  So I guess there's that.  I still miss her.  We were pretty good friends up to the end and if things didn't happen as they did, we'd probably still be friends on some level.  Because I cared about her.  A lot.  Still do.  Which is a big reason why I've been a disagreeable sort the last few years.  It sucks having nothing to do with her life anymore.

But, I guess it is what it is.  I wish there was something/anything I could do to change things but I don't think there is.

Friday, 20 April 2012

Ain't Got No Soul

4 years ago today I flew in a plane for the first time.  I flew from Vancouver to Winnipeg.  So today I took the day off work.  And drank heavily.  The song Love in Vain seems to entirely and completely sum up that experience.  Robert Johnson originally wrote it.....though the Stones did a pretty respectable cover of it.  The blue light was my mind.

The other day I went over to a friend's place.  I have not spent enough time hanging out with this friend over the last few years.  In a roundabout way, it's an innocent casualty of that plane flight.  When I was at my friend's, there was another fellow there.  Seemed like an agreeable chap.  He asked me how I knew my friend.  Said I used to go to church with him.  He asked where I was going to church now.  Said I wasn't.  He asked if I was in between churches.  Said nope.  Asked if I had a change of heart.  Said yep.  Asked if I was following a different relgion.  Said nope.  Asked why I had change of heart.  Didn't much have the desire to explain the reasons.  Asked if it was because of other Christians.

I find it weird that Christians always seem to blame other Christians when someone jumps ship.  This tells me that Christians seem to think there are a lot of assholes following the same beliefs as themselves.  Personally, I think if you abandon your religious beliefs because a few assholes share the same beliefs as you, you probably didn't really have those religious beliefs to begin with.  So its probably not the biggest loss to the Christian faith when these people jump ship.  Also, there are assholes in every group of people, so its best not to get too worked up over assholes.

I'm an asshole.  I wish the neighbour above me would get raped by a pack of orangutan.

For the record, I don't believe in god.  Significant portion of that is related to that plane trip I took 4 years ago.  Though not for the reasons, I think, that other people seem to think.  People make their own decisions in life.  Asking god to make someone like you would be ridiculous.  I never asked that.  People make their own decisions.  I asked god for something else.  Something quite reasonable.  And when someone else decided they didn't like me, god didn't deliver afterwards.  Plain and simple.

I bought the CD For Emma, Forever Ago by Bon Iver when I was in Edmonton, driving to Vancouver.  It's an excellent album, but I can't listen to it cuz its sad as shit.  I recently bought the vinyl on principle. It was like a big fuck you to myself.  I've never listened to the vinyl.  I probably won't ever listen to the vinyl.  Except for maybe on a day like today.

I never understood how Bon Iver was nominated for the best new artist grammy this year, when I had bought this album 4 years prior, after searching for it for a few months.

Since I flew back, its safe to say I basically gave up, for all intents and purposes.  I started drinking after not having a drink for the first 26 years of my life.  It helps take my mind off things.  I also got fat.  Though I may have very well have gotten fat anyways, so who knows.

It's probably safe to say I won't be a family man at this point.  A relationship seems like it would be an unwanted burden.  Unless I was really sold on the girl, I guess.  But I haven't met a girl I'd be sold on at all in some time.  Because at the end of the day, it's a person you have to spend the rest of your life with.  Which is why I won't settle for someone I'm not totally sold on.  Which is why I probably won't get married.

I think its weird what traits people seem to look for in a partner.  More and more people are looking for someone that they think would be interesting to fuck.  Or so it seems.  But when you think about it, your gonna fuck this person a bunch for the first few years, then the amount of fucking will start to decline quite a bit, then you might start taking pills so you can keep fucking every once in awhile. But, like, the last half of your marriage, there will be no fucking.  You'll just be two old people spending the rest of your lives together, not fucking.  Which is why I think its more important to find someone that is interesting to hang out with.  Cause the last half of marriage is just hanging out.

I need another Jack.

Thursday, 29 March 2012

The Mutual Exclusivity of Ayn Rand and Jesus

To me, politics and religion are a weird mix.  Especially this weird marriage between Christianity and Conservatives in the U.S.  I find it puzzling at times, since evangelical christians have basically decided that the Republican party is the party of God.  Yes, the Republican party has pandered to the evangelical crowd on hot button issues such as abortion or gay marriage, but there are many core values of the Republican party that seem to directly oppose Christian values, at least with my understanding of the Bible.

What I find a bit confusing is that a politician can, at one moment, trumpet the economical ideals of Ayn Rand one moment, and then turn around and discuss his or her deep Christian faith in the next breath.  Because to me, the two seem to approach that line where things become mutually exclusive.  The one leader, Rand, championed an economic system that is driven entirely by ego, in which there are so called elite people that drive innovation and progress and the economy and that these people should be as self serving as possible to become as successful as possible.  On the other hand, you have the other leader who is humble and preaches the sacrifice of the self at all times.  In fact, the very fundamental base of the entire Christian religion is based on self sacrifice, so much so that, according to the Christian narrative, the religion's leader sacrificed his life to absolve humanity of their sins.

And here's the kicker....many of the people whose sins he died for earned the absolving of their sins.  Many of these people were slackers, moochers, deadbeats, drug addicts, alcoholics and people that cheated whatever systems were in place.  There were all kinds of people that got a free ride on this.  Which tends to be the popular excuses from the political right as to why the government should not provide aid to certain demographics.  Then, of course, if one truly considers the message delivered in the Bible, not one single person was truly deserving of the sacrifice made by Jesus in giving his life.  Just saying.

I'm not saying that either Rand or Jesus were right......I'm just pointing out how fundamentally different their world views were.

Which then brings me to this harsh criticism of what seems to be a rather large portion of evangelical Christians I have met.  I've heard way too many of them suggest that Native peoples are a nuisance and a problem and they're sucking up all of our government's resources and that they're simply a bunch of deadbeats, drug addicts and alcoholics mooching off the system and don't deserve handouts of hard earned, taxpayer money.  And while there is no doubt that the Native Peoples in Canada face many issues, the attitude of many Christians I've met not only comes across as racist, but seems to me to be in stark contrast to what their religion was founded on.  Am I saying that continually handing out sums of money to any group of people facing the same issues that Native People face today is a solution?  It's not an effective one, that's for sure.  But neither is ignoring the problem and trying to sweep it under the rug.  Ultimately some level of self sacrifice is going to be needed in order to help a group of marginalized people such as Natives.  Because the common problems faced aren't unique to Native People in North America....anywhere you go in the world where one group of people have been marginalized, you will find the same problems and issues affecting those people.  It's not a race thing, it's a human thing.