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Spam Blade

Spam Enchanted Evening

Unfortunately, junk mail sent from oddly-named sources has not been too popular in my inbox these days*. Whether it’s because my new Outlook 2003 Junk Mail filter is much more effective, or my ISP’s spam-fighting algorithms are really working, I don’t know.

However, enough make it through to make life entertaining. Last time, it was all about a seafaring vessel. This time, it is about the major players in a brothel**.

So welcome to Spam Enchanted Evening, where all of your needs are met by our helpful staff…


Conception Holcomb – Conception is the brainy dame behind the operations of this wonderful brothel. She keeps things running like a well-lubricated machine. Frankly, everyone likes it that way. Conception, a single woman, lives vicariously through her staff due to the fact that she could get pregnant on fumes, and strives to avoid any physical contact with the unfairer sex due to her phobia of children. Conception believes that both men and women require stress relief, and so offers up the establishment to both sexes. This lady calls the shots in the happiest faux-spa in town.

Octavio McCracken – Unlike his brother Phil, Octavio is all about the ladies. It has been said that this man with the name of a Maestro can play a woman like a concert piano. He conducts quite a number of scores with scientific precision and artistic superiority. Indeed, when it comes to pleasure, this man is all hands.

Inmates C. Enchantress – They call her ICE for short because she can be so cold. The S&M specialist, this lovely lady spends quite a lot of time engaged in an outreach program for criminals. She keeps the stress of our justice system in check by performing conjugal visits to lonely lifers. Everyone knows her bite is definitely worse than her bark.

Subscription U. Renegades – Subby runs a little shop in the brothel that caters to those who need a bit of take-home stimulation. Sub can get his hands on pretty much anything, relying on deals brokered in the back-alleys of Chinatown. People will tell you that there is very little out there that Sub cannot get. In fact, he’s never failed. Be it some strange video relating to zoo animals, or just a plain old Lego fetish DVD, Sub will always deliver.

Placentae O. Neanderthals – Placentae specializes in keeping a certain clientele very happy. Pregnancy fetishists love visiting Placentae because she is beautiful, and always has a bun in the oven. No one has ever figured out that Placentae is actaully related to Conception, as they keep it hush-hush. Unlike her sister, though, Placentae revels in having babies. Being the head of marketing for the brothel, she has a brilliant strategy. When her children learn to ride bikes and use public transit, she pays them an allowance to distribute flyers throughout the city.

Armpits H. Enervates – Arm is the resident registered massage therapist. He has hands as magical as Octavio’s, but specializes in relaxation rather than excitation. Half an hour under his tender care will render you completely relaxed. However, you will find that you will also feel energized, ready to enjoy the rest of the facility.

Scratchiest O. Tutor – Scratchy is a woman who has travelled the world over with her best friend in search of the best techniques for pleasure. She travels to distant lands, immerses herself in the seedy underbelly of wherever she is, and then returns to teach the ways of foreign love to the second-level staff. She encourages a hands-on approach to teaching, and all of her students will acknowledge her as an expert in almost everything. The only complaint that they have, though, is that she never shaves her legs.

Maladies L. Lifetime – Scratchy’s best friend. Unfortunately, Mal experimented a bit too frivolously, and has to pay the price. Until medical science can figure out what’s wrong with him, and replace some of his important body parts, he’s off-limits to the customers, and happily scrubs away as the brothel’s janitor.



So swing by Spam Enchanted Evening sometime and take a load off your feet…or something…

So, what should the next spam-influenced cast of characters be like? Any ideas? E-mail me and I’ll see what I can do.


Blade Sighting

I was on the TTC yesterday at lunch, and I saw a guy sitting on the subway that looked like Whistler from the Blade movies. He had on a big pair of mirrored shades, and a shock of long, white hair. The resemblance was uncanny.

I would steal glances at him every once in a while. If he noticed, he didn’t let on. His expressions were passionless. A stone facade. Just like Whistler.

A few stops after I entered the subway, a man got on who looked like Blade. Black trenchcoat. Dark sunglasses. He, too, looked convincingly real.

The funny part was when they saw each other. They would lock gazes (from behind sunglasses) and then turn away from each other. I was waiting for vampires to come out of the woodwork, followed by a smackdown of epic proportions.

But no such luck.

I found the whole thing amusing, for some reason.




* – Leaving the majority of my junk mail sent from boring, normal names. What disturbs me is that these wouldn’t be so popular if people didn’t respond to these spam ads in the first place. I’d like to meet some of these idiots who’d like to go like rabbits all night long or drown their girlfriends in jizz. I can’t believe people actually believe in this crap.
** – Which was a popular request from the ladies for some strange reason.

Sorry Courtesy Remember

Sorry Doesn’t Make a Dead Man Alive

My dad used to say that to me when he didn’t think that I was sincere during an apology*.

It is one of those phrases that has stayed in the back of my mind over the years, resurfacing every once in a while when someone utters an insincere pleas for forgiveness.

This sprang to the front of my mind the other day when I was getting on the subway.

The train had just come to a stop and the doors opened. A young woman barrelled out of the car like a bat out of hell, nearly knocking over an older lady standing next to me.

Without even looking back, she muttered a quick sorry, speeding off to wherever the hell she was going.

Bewildered, the old lady shook her head and made her way into the subway**.

What is is with people these days?

Words like sorry and thank you are becoming trivialized by people who really don’t care about anyone.

I know when I apologize for anything, I make sure that the person knows that I really mean it. Same with everything else.

Far too many people put thank you or have a nice day at the end of their e-mails as part of their signature. As if having it there, pre-recorded, will make it mean something.

I figure if you are going to put those things, you should mean them. Otherwise, they are just empty gestures.



Courtesy

Ever have a really bad day, and then someone says something to set you off, and rather than keeping quiet, you actually let your tongue fly with abandon?

That happened to me a few weeks ago.

I was riding subway home, and the cars were relatively full. An older lady slowly made her way into the car, walking along with her cane.

Not one person offered her a place to sit.

Even worse, the last available seat was taken by a younger guy who actually pushed his way past her to get to it. The old woman looked stunned at this guy’s audacity.

What made this even more annoying is that I recently had a conversation with a friend of mine who told me that in her entire pregnancy, only one person offered her a seat***. The issue was fresh in my mind.

Though I normally would speak up in a situation like that, the mood I was in that day made me a little less patient…


Jorge: Hey dude. Maybe you should let the lady sit down.
Punk: [Doesn’t even look up.] Maybe you should just fuck off.
[People stop what they’re doing to listen to us chatting.]
J: It’s common courtesy to give the seat up to someone who might need it more than you.
P: Didn’t you hear what I just said? I got here first, anyway.
J: Yeah, but you’re not elderly, or pregnant. You’re also not disabled.
P: Nope.
J: You know, breaking your knees would probably earn you the right to sit there.
P: [Finally looks up at my not-so-pleased face.] Oh. Uh. Sorry man. Here you go, lady.
[Punk gets up, and the old lady sits down. She looks up and smiles.]
J: That’s a good lad.
[Punk makes his way through the crowd to the other end of the subway. Probably a good idea.]


Stories like that make me sound like I go around picking fights. But I’m not really a violent person. I find that some people just need a bit of a prod to gain a new perspective.

If he had a problem, or was looking really tired, then he probably could have remained there. That would make sense.

But he wasn’t tired or disabled in any way. He was also rude.

I don’t have patience for that.



The Things We Remember

It’s funny what sticks in your head from when you’re a kid.

I’ve been meaning to do a sketch of my friend Shatton as Iron Man, but I’ve been procrastinating. Last night, I printed up some pictured of Shatton and Iron Man so I can get to work on it sooner than later.

Recently, I was chatting with him about this when the conversation took a weird tangent. If you never went to Catholic church you may not understand this…



Click to enlarge…




* – At least, I suspect that was the reason. Maybe he had no reason to say it at all.
** – Of course, no one offered her a seat right away. When someone finally did, she waved them off. Her rejection of the offer was let go too easily for my liking.
*** – And he was visiting from Europe.

Unpossible Luck

Me Fail English? That’s Unpossible!

All is not well in the land of Canada. We have many people who, though they insist that they speak the English language, do no such thing.

I don’t know how many times I have heard people making fun of people from other countries for not speaking english properly.

This may be true in some cases.

People from here are no better.

Certainly typos are excusable, as they are made frequently* by us all. But what do you call it when people don’t say things properly? What if they mess up whole expressions?

I’ll share a line I heard the other day. It’s right up there with noo-cue-ler, foilage and irregardless

Oh, I don’t care. It’s all the same. Six and a half of one, a dozen of the other, you know what I mean?


Seriously**.

This makes me very unproud.



Good Luck to Des

A friend of mine is grading for his black belt tomorrow. I just wanted to take this opportunity to wish him well.

He’s a decent fellow. He’s brutally blunt, but makes no apologies. He’s also a great person, who would go an extra hundred miles for a friend.

If you have any positive words of wisdom for him, please write them as comments.

Truthfully, I don’t think he needs luck. He’s got what it takes.




* – I am notorious for typos. In fact, this is the 58th edit right now! It’s probably still wrong!
** – The actual phrase is six of one, half a dozen of the other. Last time I checked 6.5 does not equal 12.

Valentine’s Props

A Valentine’s Tale

This story was originally told to me by one of my psychology profs at University. It is about an exchange between her and her young son, and the result of that exchange. I’m embelleshing the story a little, by fooling around with the format (third person vs. first person).

Some small details might have changed slightly, as I am getting old and my memory is failing, but the bulk of it is spot-on. For the ease of the story we’ll call my prof Mrs. BF and we’ll call her son Danny

Mrs. BF and her husband had friends over every Valentine’s Day. It was an annual ritual that they looked forward to. She was in the kitchen, preparing dinner when her son walked in.

” Hey mom, ” he said.

” Hello, sweetie, ” she replied, ” Is there something I can do for you? “

” Not really, ” smiled the six-year-old tyke.

” Really? ” She looked dubious.

” Well, ” he scuffed his feet together, shy about what he was about to say, ” I was wondering if I could help with stuff? “

Mrs. BF looked surprised. Her eyes softened, and she tousled his hair, ” That’s very sweet, Danny. “

Danny blushed and hugged his mom’s leg.

Mrs. BF looked around the kitchen for something her son could do. She still needed to take care of dinner and set the table. He was too small to handle hot cookware, and a little too clumsy to handle the china, so she decided that she would let him have a very special job.

” Danny, ” she reached over and grabbed the cake that she had baked and iced earlier that afternoon, ” I have a big job for you. “

” Really? ” he looked excited.

” Yes, ” she winked, walking over to the kitchen table and placing the cake down on it. She grabbed a tube of red frosting and helped him up onto the chair, ” I would like you to decorate the cake. “

” Really? ” he looked stunned, ” REALLY, Mom? “

” Yes, ” she smiled, foldly remembering him watching her decorate a birthday cake earlier that year, ” Your writing is much neater now than it used to be, and I think it’s time for you to do some grown-up stuff. “

” That’s so cool! ” he beamed.

” Here you go, ” she gave him the tube.

” Um, ” he scratched his head with his free hand, ” What should I do? “

” Why don’t you write Happy Valentine’s Day? ” she went to the refrigerator and removed one of the cards she had received, placing it on the table next to the cake, ” You can use that as a guide. “

” Wow! Thanks, mom! ” Danny kissed her, and looked at the cake, sizing it up.

Mrs. BF was too busy to supervise the tyke, but she would steal glances as she walked by. She took note of how careful he was writing each letter.

A fair amount of time had gone by, and she saw the word Happy in surprisingly neat, large letters on the cake.

After that, she paid him no mind, allowing him to do his special job, allowing herself to trust him complete his task.

The guests were about to arrive, and she was straightening out the dining room table when she heard him call out from the kitchen.

” Mom, I’m done! ” he sounded very proud, ” Did you want to check it? “

She had her hands full, and didn’t really have time to spare to see his handiwork. She figured she’d enjoy it later.

” No, it’s okay Danny, ” she called, back, ” Just put the lid on it, and we’ll serve it later! “

” Okay, ” he replied.

A few minutes later he came out of the kitchen, all smiles. He ran up to his mom and hugged her.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Company had arrived.

A sumptuous dinner came and went, and Mrs. BF went to the kitchen to fetch the cake that she made and her son decorated.

She brought it out in its container with the opaque lid still on, aiming to maximize her pride in her son by making it a big presentation, and placed it on the table in front of everyone.

” I now present to you the great work of Danny the cake decorator, ” she then lifted the lid off of the cake with a flourish.

There was stunned silence, and then good-natured laughter followed by clapping all around the table.

It seems that Danny had not budgeted his space properly, and the latter part of the message had to be abbreviated…



HAPPY V.D.



Props

I don’t normally give into the commercialism of Valentine’s Day.

I think it’s important to share well-wishes with your loved ones often, and not just on special days.

To that end, here are three haiku for three people I mentioned recently…


To the Blife
You make blogging fun
Keep DC warm for our gang
Don’t hog the blossoms


To the Mife
You rock all kinds, dude
Thanks for your support and your
Eternal friendship


To My Wife
What else can I say?
The world is a better place
With you living here


Love to all,

J

Anybody Want a Cat?

I am posting this on behalf of my good friend Allison. You can click on her name to contact her if you’re serious about wanting Percy. You also can click on the thumbnails below to get a larger view of this handsome devil…



Percy

A very close friend has an elderly family member who is not able to take care of a cat that was recently adopted. He is a very good tempered and loving 4 year old neutered cat named Percy. He does have his claws, and comes with a scratching mat that he loves.

Please pass this along to anyone you might think would be interested in adopting him.

Thanks so much,

Allison