The Killer Whale Survival Kit, or, Night of the Orca

Sad news out of SeaWorld tells the harrowing tale of Tilikum, the orca that murdered it's trainer (is it murder if an animal kills a human? Ah heck, why not?) . My condolences, for all that they’re worth, go out to the family of the trainer.

People with agendas are obviously going to use this incident to further their… um… agenda against animal captivity. I’m not sure which side of the fence I come down on for that argument (well physically the outside of the fence – that’s’ right I’m lookin’ at you giraffe – do something).  On the one hand I’m pretty sure that if giraffes were supposed to be caged up, Africa would be full of cages; but on the other hand I have now seen a giraffe where I otherwise would not – as the old

saying goes: “if Willie don’t go to the G-Raff, the G-raff gotz to come to Willie.” The other thing to keep in mind is that eventually we will have paved over the natural habitat of every land and sea based life form, so maybe giving them a safe place to play isn’t a bad idea. Any way off topic.

The scary fact is this is the third time Tilikum has been involved in murder. That whale is damn lucky SeaWorld isn’t in California because they have that three strikes law in Cali and Mr. Whale would be going to jail for a  long, long time (well, I guess it already has come to think of it).

For those that say we shouldn’t be too quick to judge the whale, I think that this time the case is right there laid out before us in black and white. As I said, this is the third time this whale has killed and that to me says one of two things: either this is a serial killer whale or that whale does not like to be in captivity.

With that in mind the fear mongering has begun and people everywhere are becoming afraid that orca will jump out of the bushes all over the place to kill and eat them and their young; with this in mind I have prepared the following tips to make sure that if you find yourself in a position where an orca might strike, you will be prepared. (I apologize for the long warm up and hope you were not attacked by orca while I rambled away).

The Top 10 Things You Need to Know About Orcas to Stay Alive

1. An Orca is like a cat, it can fit it’s body through any hole it can fit it’s head through. Beware toilets and anything with a drain. Bidets are out of the question.
2. Like all Undead creatures, Orca fear fire.
3. Remember: you don’t have to outrun, or out swim, the Orca – just the person you’re with.
4. At all times carry your OPK (Orca Preparedness Kit) which should at least include (but not be limited too) an oxygen tank, a shot gun and a bullet (preferably silver). 
5. Always carry a supply of golf balls. In an emergency these golf balls may be used to plug the blow hole of the attacking killer whale. Note: the balls included with the Fisher Price Ball Popper may also do in a pinch.
6. If you have somehow harmed this orca’s pregnant mate – just drown yourself right now. That orca will not stop until he’s killed you and everyone you care about (but don’t kill everyone you care about before you off yourself in case the Orca decides your death is enough).
7. There is only one way to kill an Orca and make sure it doesn’t rise: decapitation.
8. Do not play dead in the water. If you do (and especially if you do it face down) you will be well and truly dead. And if that happens, don’t come complaining to me.
9. Remember, if you look the Orca in the eye it can turn you to stone; so keep your eyes averted and use your shield as a mirror so that it turns itself to stone.
10. If, like Jack (and Jonah), you find yourself swallowed by said killer whale make like Jack (not Jonah) and catch “the whale all by the tail/And turn him inside out.” Keep in mind these are just suggestions its up to each person in each situation to figure out exactly how to do the aforementioned.

With these handy hints at your side, should you ever be assailed wile a-sailing by a pod of killer whales you will hopefully be able to live to tell your tale (and if you don’t, don’t come running to me).

The whole scenario, that is, orca goes on death rampage, gives me an idea for a movie about an orca that goes on a death rampage. I would call it The Orca That Wouldn’t Slow Down.

Technorati Tags: Killer Whale,Tilikum,Orca,Zombies,Medusa,Survival

New Wednesday Feature: There Are Two Things I Know

I’ve been working this blog for quite some time now and so far its paid plenty of dividends to my self-esteem. Just the other day I had someone tell me concerning my posts: “Some of them are kinda funny.” Nothing lifts a writer’s spirits like such heart felt endorsements.  It is my sincerest hope that one day I shall ascend to the ranks of people who have heard: “Some of your posts are actually funny!.” Dare to dream.

One of the issues I’ve found that keeps me from being a better blogger is my lack of writing skills; the other is a distinct lack of theme. I tend to think my writing is better when I care about my subject matter but as I’m mostly dead inside I don’t really care about much other than family (and of course you Solitary Reader, I care about you!) and I don’t write about family because that’s private. Despite Tuesday’s topic I don’t write about private stuff either (btw, as an addendum to Tuesday’s topic, its also best not to practice your Gollum impressions in the bathroom either: apparently it’s disconcerting for someone else to walk in and hear “My Precioussssss” emanating from the bathroom stall. Can we say misconstrued people?).

And so the point to this pointless preamble: the new Wednesday theme called There are Two Things I Know, so without any ado:

There are Two Things I Know

The first thing I know is that justice in Canada doesn’t exist (or if it does it’s hiding down the same hole as Wireton Willie).

No matter how you feel about the RCMP, or the cops if you prefer, I would hate to have that job. These people spend their time and their effort, and in some cases their lives, on the streets trying to find, catch and hold murderers, rapists, thieves and the utmost in dirtbaggishness only to be spit upon, criminalized in the media and then have to watch the very people they put their lives on the line to catch walk free because the Canadian justice is as firm as the willie of an 80 year old man in the days before Viagra.

Finding examples of the failure of the Canadian law system is about as difficult as finding a corrupt politician. Among the more obvious failures of our system include:

• The recent verdict in the Alan Shoenborn case. For those of you who aren’t familiar with this case , Shoenborn killed three of his children and then went and hid in the bushes. After months of costly trial a verdict came down amounting to not criminally responsible because he was a nut job. Now while anyone who takes the life of someone else for reasons not including self-defence could arguably be considered a nutjob it’s the criminally responsibility part that’s worrying. In one report I read it was stated that during the trial it came out that Shoenborn killed his children because he thought they were being molested. This is an example of idiocy, not insanity. If you think you’re children are being molested and you feel the need to kill someone over it – kill the molester, not the molested. I’m not advocating any killing but if you have to at least point it in the right direction.
• In November of 2000 Irene Thorpe was run over by 2 individuals involved in a street race. The two genetic wastrels were caught and then sentenced to basically 2 years house arrest. The outcry for this one was fairly loud and eventually the two were deported to India and sentenced to work at a DELL call centre. One of these reckless bastards went through appeal after appeal trying to stay in Canada but was finally deported in April of 2009. So not only is justice lacking in Canada it takes forever to carryout the paltry sentences that are handed down.

These are just two of the more prominent cases which make me believe that justice in Canada is sickly and destitute. All over the true north strong and free there are a myriad of indications on smaller levels of the same; and I’m sure its not just in Canada either, all over the world the rights of the few supersede the rights of the many.

No longer do criminals have to take responsibility for their actions; we look upon these criminals and see only poor unfortunate victims of a cold, uncaring society who are merely crying for attention. As for the victims of these victims well, so what if they were productive members of society that actually contributed to the overall pot rather than withdrawing out of it; its just poor circumstance that these two victims clashed and only the one (the one willing to kill) survived.

I don’t have any answers, other than grandiose ideas to put the well-being of society before that of a few of its less-than-stellar members, but I and I’m sure many of the other members of the silent majority can see that there is a problem. That’s one thing I’m sure of, that there’s a problem.

And the second thing I know?

The guy who does the voice for Bejewelled Blitz on Facebook is hitting on me – he keeps calling me “Spectacular” in that Barry White voice of his. Creepy. I’m afraid to score more than 550K points because he might ask me out to coffee and I’d have to say no – and every game after that would be awkward.

Technorati Tags: Shoenborn,Bejewelled Blitz,Irene Thorpe,Justice,Failure

Let Them Eat (Urinal) Cake or Don’t talk to me, I’m Peeing

Urinal etiquette is rarely discussed among men because it is one of those things you’re just supposed to know: however some people don’t.

For the sake of any who should be reading this, I’m going to go over a couple of “golden” rules for the men out there who aren’t sure what to do when they find themselves in the awkward situation of being in the washroom with another man. I promise to save this for my son so that upon successfully completing potty training he can read it and avoid any awkward situations.

And  for you ladies, this may  come in useful if you ever find yourself in some sitcom-ish type situation where you’re pretending to be a man for some reason and have to use the male washroom (such as trying to avoid the line-up at the women’s washroom at concerts).

Rule #1: Don’t Stand… Don’t Stand… Don’t Stand So Close to Me

It’s a little known fact that what Sting was singing about in the song title above was the PPP – the peepee proximity problem (or proximipee I henceforth dub it so).

Translated into simple terms this rule states:  Where a man is situated in a wash room with a number of urinals > 2; said man shall choose the urinal closest to the door. THE NEXT MAN to enter shall then take his position at the urinal FURTHEST from the man who was there first. At no time should the middle urinal be used unless all other available spots are taken and you cannot hold it.

Upon first blush this seems fairly obvious, but you’d be surprised at how many people don’t realize that the concept of “personal space” is expanded in the forced intimacy of the washroom. It’s assumed that if you’re stuck standing next to a fellow man while doing your business you will not look – the insertion of the extra space merely ensures that there will be no accidental glimpsing which will then make that 2 minute hand washing window any more uncomfortable than it has to be.

Rule #2: Don’t talk to me, I’m peeing

Any and all conversation while standing at the urinal should be kept to a minimum; where conversation is felt to be necessary, conversational topics should be kept to sports and weather alone.

Having been named after my great grandfather I take a certain amount of pride in my name. Sure it’s fairly common place but William is a strong name; Bill is even an acceptable substitution. An unfortunate bastardization of the name however is Willie, and there is no place more apparent than in the locale of the washroom is the poignancy of that bastardization felt.

More than once have I stood at the urinal to have a fellow, a manager no less, ask me: “How’s Willie?” This leaves a man with two possible choices on how to answer the question; as the asker is usually a management type so far I’ve restrained from responding with: “Well it’s got this rash…” but one of these days my sense of discretion and career preservation might desert me and who knows what I might say (I never do).

There’s another reason why conversation should be kept to a minimum in the facilities and it leads right into rule number three (and you thought there was only number one and number two).

Rule #3: Aim too, please

Keeping your eyes on the prize will help to make sure that your feet stay dry; many a gas station attendant has lamented the lack of aim; to the point where it’s nothing to hear one of the Men from Texaco yelling: “My God! Is EVERYONE cross-eyed!?!”

Some people need all the help they can get and when they start talking their mind starts to stray from the task at… um… hand. So keep conversation to a minimum: clear your mind, feed all your emotions into the flame and aim for that little bee they embed in the urinal (I’m pretty sure its not a real bee encased in the urinal, but that would  be cool).

In Summary

1. Keep Your Distance
2. Shut Up
3. Watch what you’re doing.

Voila, we’re all happy.

If I Could Walk With the Animals…

There’s some weird and creepy crap happening in the world of animals today and as I’ve got the day off I was able to explore and pursue it with all the ethic of a CNN journalist. That is to say there’s a kernel of truth in the following stories and I’m going to make up the rest of the details.

Yay for modern day journalism!

Paparazzi sinks to New Low…

In the world of the kinky and weird a couple in BC has gone to crazy and discomfiting new lows: http://www.digitaljournal.com/article/287803 is the link to a story about a couple that’s put a web cam in the den of a sleeping Spirit Bear. Now, I’m for exploiting nature as much as the next man – I wear my loafers made from gophers (it was either that or skin my chauffer) – but this seems a little bit like going too far.

Now I realize that after years of marriage some couples have trouble trying to create that spark in the bedroom. It’s natural. The libido is like a haircut – you have to keep it groomed (I heard Sue Johansen say that once… really I did). It’s like that episode of the Simpsons where Homer and Marge reignite their passion for each other by finding increasingly stranger and more exposed places to … well get stranger and more exposed.

So there’s this couple who’s only way to get their jollies seems to be spying on a sleeping bear. Neighbours are already complaining about the yells of “Oh dear! Your chest is hairy like animal!” and “Watch me bare my spirit!” and of course the worst one of all: “RAWR!’

Okay so I’m pretty sure that’s not what the story is about.

It’s some science thing probably (but hey, I don’t believe in science anyway) and of course  all this bear related science has only one purpose behind it: trying to find out if a bear really does shit in the woods.

It Don’t Matter if You’re Black or White…

.. But if you’re both you’re in a heap of trouble boy.

Out of Atlanta today comes the following story: http://www.digitaljournal.com/article/287823. This is the harrowing tale of Lima the Zebra who took it into his head to break free from the the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus show. Take a minute to PERU-se the story and when you’ve BEAN there, come right back.

Animal cruelty is a horrible thing and luckily we have groups that look out for these poor beasts. There’s Green Peace, there’s PETA, there’s the Toronto branch of the SPCA… um okay not so much on that last one. How does this story relate to animal cruelty you ask? Well let me answer – only cruelty to animals would see them letting this creature escape in Atlanta *shiver*. There’s no way they’d let this guy run around in New Hampshire.

Let this be a lesson to all you folks out there who’ve ever thought about running away to join the circus; the only beings who have less freedom than the animals of the the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus show are the acrobats of the Cirque du Soleil.

Not Neutral Anymore

And to round out today’s triumvirate of animal related news, Swiss lawmakers are contemplating appointing a public defender for animals. This person would, um, publicly defend animals (funny how some things are actually what they say they are).

Abused animals could get right to lawyer in Swiss proposal up for vote That’s the story right there, in case you think I’m making it up – complete with snappy title as chosen by the fine peeps of the Associated Press (personally I would have went with something like “Animals to Make Law Suit” or “No animals were harmed in the ratifying of this law).

Of course as this is the Swiss Legal system there’s bound to be more holes in it than in their cheese (but as they’re legal holes they can call them loopholes). Until the point where this law is ratified it will remain just a Bill… just a bill on capitol hill…. (OH NO! I CAN’T STOP!)

I'm just a bill.
Yes, I'm only a bill.
And I'm sitting here on Capitol Hill.
Well, it's a long, long journey
To the capital city.
It's a long, long wait
While I'm sitting in committee,
But I know I'll be a law someday
At least I hope and pray that I will,
But today I am still just a bill.

Boy: Gee, Bill, you certainly have a lot of patience and courage.

Bill: Well I got this far. When I started, I wasn't even a bill, I was just an idea. Some folks back home decided they wanted a law passed, so they called their local Congressman and he said, "You're right, there oughta be a law." Then he sat down and wrote me out and introduced me to Congress. And I became a bill, and I'll remain a bill until they decide to make me a law.

I'm just a bill
Yes I'm only a bill,
And I got as far as Capitol Hill.
Well, now I'm stuck in committee
And I'll sit here and wait
While a few key Congressmen discuss and debate
Whether they should let me be a law.
How I hope and pray that they will,
But today I am still just a bill.

Boy: Listen to those congressmen arguing! Is all that discussion and debate about you?

Bill: Yeah, I'm one of the lucky ones. Most bills never even get this far. I hope they decide to report on me favourably, otherwise I may die.

Boy: Die?

Bill: Yeah, die in committee. Oooh, but it looks like I'm gonna live! Now I go to the House of Representatives, and they vote on me.

Boy: If they vote yes, what happens?

Bill: Then I go to the Senate and the whole thing starts all over again.

Boy: Oh no!

Bill: Oh yes!

I'm just a bill
Yes, I'm only a bill
And if they vote for me on Capitol Hill
Well, then I'm off to the White House
Where I'll wait in a line
With a lot of other bills
For the president to sign
And if he signs me, then I'll be a law.
How I hope and pray that he will,
But today I am still just a bill.

Boy: You mean even if the whole Congress says you should be a law, the president can still say no?

Bill: Yes, that's called a veto. If the President vetoes me, I have to go back to Congress and they vote on me again, and by that time you're so old...

Boy: By that time it's very unlikely that you'll become a law. It's not easy to become a law, is it?

Bill: No!

But how I hope and I pray that I will,
But today I am still just a bill.

Congressman: He signed you, Bill! Now you're a law!

Bill: Oh yes!!!

CSI: Ancient Egypt

External. Day. Desert: the hot sun beats down in the Egyptian desert. A forensics team circles around a crime scene dropping numbered placards in random order, brushing sand away in the desert for no apparent reason and posing dramatically for a non-existent camera crew. <CAMEL tramples through scene and is gone.> Cut to two of the team uncovering a sarcophagus with strange markings.

Forensic Team Member #1: If I’m not mistaken these markings state: “Here lies King Tutankhamun – please don’t disturb my remains because that will royally (Insert from the priest who mummified the body stating: Ha! I made a funny!) screw up my afterlife!”
Forensic Team Member #2 : Uh oh, it looks like we’ve ruined his after life. (taking off sun glasses and revealing he’s David Caruso) Tut tut tut.”

Cue a song by The Guess Who (you pick one you like).

***

Circling around the world today, as if anyone uber cared, is the news that they may have discovered the reason for King Tut’s death. He was a boy king they say, and he was weak they add. He was frail, they elucidate. The final diagnosis:? He’s dead Jim.

Me, I don’t care. Do you know why I don’t care? Because he lived 2350 odd years ago. If whatever killed him hadn’t killed him, something else would have – and if that something else didn’t get him, something else would have – and do you know what that would have been? Old age!

Unless King Tut was one of the race of Immortals (you know, the guys that own the 7-11s (come on, you can’t conceive of an idea of staying up those hours without being super bored – the level of boredom that only comes about from having lived forever)) he would long since have died. The manner of his death might have been important to his parents but at this particular juncture its really only worth knowing if you have a penchant for adding footnotes to Wikipedia pages or as a subset of that useless knowledge you need to have to be successful on Jeopardy.

I’m all for studying history. As the saying goes those who fail to learn from the mistakes of the past are doomed to repeat them. However, I don’t see how knowing that a tree branch fell on King Tut and put him in a coma (that’s not what happened) is going to add a lot to the sum of human knowledge. The effect of the death of a leader on a culture – that’s worth knowing, how he died isn’t important (unless through political unrest indicating socio-political forces at play).

But with the news floating out there at least we can be sure of one good thing: at least there’ll be something new on the Discovery Channel.

I Like Goooooold! Also Silver and Bronze!

With the eyes of the world on Canada during the Olympics we’ve already committed a number of gaffe’s that have caused the world to sit up and take notice. So far, into Day 5, the two biggest ones have been the failure of part of the torch to rise from the ground for the opening ceremonies and the exploding Zamboni machine at the Richmond Oval. The weather has also been non-cooperative but you can hardly blame that on Canada.

But more so than any of this what seems to be shocking the world is the “Own the Podium” campaign that’s been in effect these past few years; the world is looking upon us gold hungry Canadians with shock and disgust as we go into the Olympic games hoping to win.

In past years, to be Canadian has been to sit in front of the TV being surprised if we win at anything other than hockey (and general outrage when we don’t win at that ). But almost as soon as it was announced that the games were coming to Canada the Own the Podium campaign was fired up and it became official: Canada wanted to win.

Perhaps one of the key symbols of the world’s disgust with us was the 18-0 trouncing of the Slovakian women’s hockey team.  Frankly this is competition. World class competition. Competition.  Two people or teams vying to reach a goal before the other (In this last instance Canada reached the goal 18 times before the other team did – you go girls). To compete is to try and win – getting to the Olympics is the first step and winning is the final step.

You can be guaranteed that if the skate was on the other foot and Slovakia had beaten up on Canada 18-0 no one would be suggesting that the Slovaks should back off. I certainly wouldn’t have – I’m perverse enough to enjoy that sort of blow out no matter who’s getting trounced.

A portion of the complaints regarding the trouncing of the Slovakians (doesn’t that sound like an opera “The Trouncing of the Slovaks”?) is coming from within Canada itself: that’s like the Israelites complaining to David “Ah jeepers David, we know you took down Goliath and all, but did you have to use a rock? That’s not that sportsmanlike!” That metaphor falls apart when you consider that Slovakia would be Goliath – but still it remains funny in a remote sort of way.

One of the biggest detractors of our new found gold hunger is Stephen Colbert; he’s been on Canada’s case for some time now because of our un-Canadian desire for victory. I’m not going to fight with him for two reasons: he’s funnier than I am and would humiliate me to pieces and he’s a satirist so whatever he’s saying you can pretty much take the opposite of it for his actual point.

I think I can imagine who’s behind the whole idea of the anti-“Own the Podium” Campaign: the chiropractors. Now, for the first time in many years, Canadian athletes  are competing (there’s that word again) with the rest of the world and with the intention of winning. For the first time in the Olympics we’ve stopped slumping our shoulders and saying: “Chin up skier, at least you made it to the show” but instead we’re saying: “Silver’s great – gold’s better go get em next time tiger!”

The rest of Canada is developing a sense of pride in their athletes and we’re standing straighter because of that pride. What does standing straighter lead to? You guessed it: less back problems. Less back problems equals less work for the chiropractors.

Chiropractors are evil.

But as for the whole “Own the Podium” campaign, the thing is: we already own the podiums because we paid for them.

Technorati Tags: Gold Medal,Canada,Own the Podium,Podium,winning,Olympics

When the vocal minority yells, who listens?

With the Olympics going on in Vancouver there’s a fair number of people trolling around the city that otherwise wouldn’t be here; included in that number are the great unwashed: the protestors.

On a good day I don’t have a lot of time for protestors (but I’m all for passive protesting, or complaining as its often called, I do that all the time) because they all look like 2nd year university students (philosophy or history majors – sorry Chris H.) who are still living at home and read a story about how the polar bears in Darfur are being underpaid for making shoes and not allowed to practice their religion; so they make themselves a sign and go yell at people.

It is a truth that protesting has its place. There’s a large percentage of the world (me included) that doesn’t know about all the issues and a smaller percentage of that larger percentage (me included) that doesn’t care about those issues. I have all sorts of respect for people who can look at the world around them and see things that need to be changed and then get off their asses to go try to make the world a better place. I wish I was wired that way.

Racial oppression. Gender oppression. Oppression of any sort. These are good and justified issues and if a protest is the only way to make the world sit up and take notice then yell until your hoarse.

But the Olympics?  Is this a good reason to protest? Well some would say yes and because this is Canada and they have the right to free speech, I’m not allowed to tell them they’re wrong.

Olympic detractors often state, especially in host cities, that the money that goes into preparing for the Olympics could be better spent  elsewhere and they’re not wrong. There’s plenty of better places that money could go – but the thing is: it wouldn’t. If that money wasn’t earmarked for the Olympics it would go into some stupid make work project such as gold laminating the door knobs of parliament (the physical door knobs of parliament not the mental ones that actually sit in parliament).

You know I’ve always been of the opinion that, for the same reason mentioned above, mankind should refrain from having a space program – the money could be used better elsewhere. (I’m also of the opinion that we should try and get Earth sorted out before we take our shit into space). But despite my strongly held believe that we shouldn’t screw up the rest of the galaxy you don’t see me standing at Cape Canaveral with my placard boldly stating:  “BEFORE YOU GO TO MARS COVER URANUS.”

Protestors come in all sorts of makes and models, some are too legit to quit, while others go for the volume = relevance approach. This past weekend we had a number of protestors (masked no less) go on a mini-destructive spree. Windows at the Downtown Vancouver Hudson Bay store were smashed in as an example – now its still up in the air whether these were impishly, mischievous protestors or customers of The Bay who couldn’t find anyone to help them and were trying to draw attention to themselves.

This last sort is the worst sort of protestor; the people who go out to protest because its fun to yell and smash things; they detract from the point of the protestors who actually have a point (interestingly enough I was surprised to see feminists protesting in the mob; woman have the right to vote and screw up their lives like the rest of us men folk – why are there still feminists?). When the police department unmasked a few of these protestors they looked exactly as I described above: students far enough away from mid-terms that the need to study doesn’t keep them indoors.

Protestors, I think, need to start using the tools of the world they abhor to get their point out there. PETA, may they all rot in the third ring of Tartarus, at least uses advertising to try and get some of their points across – they may go too far, but at least they go there. With society being the way it is (cold, unfeeling and too busy doing its own thing to take notice of your piddly little issue) most people aren’t going to notice your point unless you present it like something they want.

I suggest a beer commercial.. and run it during the Olympics as we watch these amazing athletes from all over the world do some awesome stuff.

This Just In – Politicians Untrustworthy

Dear Solitary Reader:

I find myself sitting disconsolately at my chair tonight. I was ready to do a grand follow up to yesterday’s smashing Sesame Street success but today I am listless. If my tear ducts still worked (accident with an @home DIY Botox Injector I saw on late night TV), tears would be streaming down my face right now.

For you see, today I learned a lesson: politicians are untrustworthy. Amid the news that Paul Giambrone, a man with a star (and some other things apparently) rising in the world of Toronto politics, is resigning his mayoral campaign after admitting to having various sexual encounters I find myself at a loss for words.

What has the world come to that we can, seemingly, no longer trust our politicians? These are the few and the proud: these are the people who are uniquely capable of leading us whether it be in our municipalities, our provincial (or state) governments, our federal leaders. These people are obviously superior to us for we place them on a pedestal and tell them: “You are our shepherd; we are your sheep.”

Okay back to reality…

I know the marketing reasons why this is a story worthy of Google news– its got sex and the ruining of a career. The problem is that the news that Paul Giambrone was caught with his “pants on the ground” is just another link in the chain forged by dirt bag politicians.

I think the key teller here is that this Jabrone was actually dumb enough to run for such a high profile position in the first place; I mean unless he’s got a 10-second Tom short term memory problem he’s got to realize he’s been putting Little Paul in all sorts of places where Little Paul shouldn’t be going – and someone is obviously going to talk. Paul shouldn’t disqualify himself for being a womanizing douchebag – Paul should have disqualified himself in the first place for being so naive to believe his transgressions wouldn’t see the light of day.

How could this guy not figure at some point some girl would see his face on TV and tell her friends: “Oh yeah, I tapped that.” My political campaign management experience comes entirely from watching Dave on the W channel and even I know that. Idiot.

Why is the fact that this dude is running around the city of Toronto with his willie uncorked such a big deal? I’m sure there’s some guy that does the same thing on Yonge Street and gets handed all kinds of spare change. Pull up your damn pants Giambrone and get back in the ring – you might lose the election but you’ll lose in style (and think of all the pity shags you could score from the sympathetic female constituency). Bill Clinton sat, lay, crouched in the oval office for eight years – and he’s more of an American Idol than Ruben Studdard.

Honestly, it’s like I’ve always said (well I don’t always say it, I say other stuff too): the type of people who seek power are not the type of people who should have it.

Sincerely,

htwavcbh

Sesame Street 2150

Dear Solitary Reader:

It is a truth of television that shows must repeatedly find ways to make themselves new or risk becoming stale, trite, and even worse, cancelled. For many the formula to renewing viewer interest involves adding new characters to the show (like when they brought in Dawn in Buffy the Vampire Slayer); some shows vary from their original plot and tread into the unfamiliar waters of the serious subject such as the time when Jo, Blair, Tootie and Natalie ended up in Jail on the Facts of Life.

Some shows, such as Days of Our Lives, like to throw in a little demonic possession; let us all take a moment and weep for when TV hit that particular low point.

Other shows seem to have found the magical formula that keeps them from aging; and Sesame Street is one of those shows. So, because this show won’t go ahead and fail on its own, I’ve decided to spice up Sesame Street in a way which will bring a whole new audience to its door.

Without any ado whatsoever I present to you Sesame Street 2150.

New Theme song:

Sunless Day, sweeping the riff raff away
On my way to where the air smell's of defeat;
Can you tell me why I should go
Why I should go to Sesame Street

With the updating of our show we have taken some characters and altered them; we didn’t want to get rid of the original cast entirely because that would have alienated the original viewers. In a fit of genius we’ve changed the stalwarts of the original Sesame street to reach an even greater audience.

Big Bird

+

Borg

=

Big Borg

Big Borg BIO: It turns out the Borg weren’t a drug induced, luddite-esque nightmare from Star Trek: The Next Generation producers. The Borg exist, and in a rather hilarious Galaxy Quest like scenario have been monitoring earth; much like the aliens in the Galaxy Quest  world the Borg thought Sesame Street was real and abducted the assumed leader: Big Bird. Big Bird was assimilated and became Big Borg and sent to live on Sesame Street where he teaches the importance of mob rule and the benefits of the hive mentality.

Oscar the Grouch

+

150 Years

=

Oscar the Statue

Oscar the Statue BIO: About 50 years from now Oscar will retreat into his garbage can and spend all his time in the cavernous home. Neither Sully nor Wormie will hear from him. 30 years after that an expedition will be sent down into Oscar’s can and find that Oscar had been cloning himself but do to a freak accident Oscar will have petrified himself and all his issue. At the same time Hollywood will be going through stringent financial reorganization and recognize the opportunity for an almost limitless supply of their beloved Oscar statues.

Two Headed Monster:  The lovable two headed monster will remain the same as he is seen as an excellent character to reach out to conjoined twins market (a niche market, but a market non the less).

 

Elmo: Elmo is Elmo… you don’t mess with Elmo

Many other changes will be made in order to spruce up Sesame Street, in a flash, here are just a few of them:

• Sesame Street will grow to become a city and will be called Sesamopolis
• Mr. Hooper will be reanimated as a zombie and take his rightful place as the owner of Mr. Hooper’s.
• All human characters will be removed from the show: this will air in a three part feature called Sesame Street: The Purging of the Humans. I can’t give too much away but let’s just say Big Borg + technology = trouble for humanity.
• And so much more.

And there you have it folks a preliminary look at the world of Sesame Street as it will be in the year 2150… or next week if PBS accepts my pitch.

Technorati Tags: Big Bird,Elmo,Two Headed,Monster,Borg,Star Trek,Oscar,Oscars,Grouch

Mankind Cast from Eden… Again!

Most everyone knows the story, even if you’re an atheist you probably know it (if you don’t go read the frickin’ Bible and see what you’re against): man lives in paradise called eden, woman joins man, snake shows up and says “Yo, want sum o’ma apple?” Man and woman says: “You know what Holmes? I am kinda peckish” Man and woman eat apple of which God has said “Dinnae touch me apple ye daft pubes!” God finds out and casts man and woman from Eden. End of story (per se).

Well, it’s happened again; although the paradise in question is New Brunswick (and therefore not very paradise-like at all) and more specifically a Tim Horton’s coffee shop. Here’s the story:  Banned from Tim Horton's for coffee complaints from The Toronto Sun, where I believe it was front page news (all Tim Horton’s related stories merit front page news status in Canada).

The crux of the story is this: The man named Jimmy Craig or Joe Bob Lunchpail (or whatever) fired off a couple of complaints to his local Timmies regarding the quality of the decaf coffee he’d received; his dissatisfaction got to the point where he decided he would take his complaint right to the top (or at least the fourth level of middle management); and instead of getting the reparation he felt he deserved what happened to our hero? He got banned from the local Timmies.

Finding himself without any recourse, our protagonist Jimmy Joe John Jack decided to take his story nationwide – and as we don’t have Jerry Springer in Canada he was forced to go to the next best place: The Toronto Sun. Like many people who seek the media as a tool to redress a perceived wrong; Jimbo George doesn’t quite realize that this situation he’s broadcasting to the world does not portray him in a favourable light.

For you see, Jiminiy Jeff John George or whoever you are, the chances of the situation being as simple as you complaining to Tim Horton’s three times and them having had enough of you seem as likely to me as Brian Williams, failed CBC sports reporter (you have ONE JOB Brian Williams and that is to remember athlete’s names and you can’t do that, Howard Cosell weeps tears, dusty tears from beyond, from his grave whenever you announce a sporting event), not coming to Vancouver and trying to hone in on CTV’s Olympic coverage by standing next to reporters and shouting the wrong names of the athlete’s.

Here’s a couple of possible scenarios:

• The Soup Nazi from Seinfeld was moonlighting at the Timmy-hohos: “NO coffee for you – lifetime!”
• Ol’Jim Dandy may not be the soul of eloquence and dropped a few too many F-bomb’s and perhaps some personal slurs concerning various matriarchs of Timmy’s employees
• Jimmy Jo tried to steal the donutometer

And our hero, not depending on the persuasive powers of the media in a move with all the class of spray cheese, is also hiring himself a lawyer to get the Tim Ban lifted. Apparently the lawyer will be arguing the little used section in the Charter of Rights & Freedoms that we as Canadians adhere to which states “All Canadians shall have, heretofore and herein declared, the right to the Double-Double.”

The Pun Section: Well Jimmy Craig, I can’t imagine what could be cruller than being banned from Tim’s; I’m just an Old Fashioned Plain guy, but I think you’d have to be quite the (chocolate) dip to be banned from Tim’s. Now you’ll have to fritter away your days at home, saving a $1.32 feeling time (walnut) crunch away at your sanity. I know right now you feel as if life’s kicked you in the Timbits, Jimmy, but you are at least trying to d’e’clair your rights to the world.

Okay that’s enough.

Now I’m sure some of us are sitting here laughing at John Jim Jackson’s plight but I warn you that Jimmy Joe Jack Johnson has opened up a can of worms that might otherwise be left closed; because if, in fact, Jimmy was banned from the Tim’s for complaining he’s just empowered store owners to look beyond the tried and untrue maxim: The customer is always right. It’s like when a child turns 18 and realizes that his parents didn’t know everything and no longer have control over him: companies will be randomly refusing to satisfy our every dissatisfied whim.

If this happens thank the man called Jimmy Craig.

Oddly, I do hope The Toronto Sun keeps us up to date because this has BCAS (Bad Car Accident  Syndrome) written all over it; and one thing’s for sure Tim Horton store – you just found yourself on Jimmy Craigslist – and the only thing he sells is a world of hurt.

Technorati Tags: Tim Horton's,Coffee,banned,The Toronto Sun,Brian Williams,Howard Cosell,Craigslist

Now That’s Entertainment…

Dear Solitary Reader:

I’ve been trying to write on the ol’blog as much as I can as of late, now that the peeper’s on the mend I gots to put it back at work, and as a result I often find myself sitting at the end of the day with nothing to write about.

• The Toyota Recall: I don’t have a Toyota so I don’t care (but I’m sorry for you if you  do - unless you cut me off in it, or if you were in that Camry that always had to drive 10 under the speed limit (although now I understand why)).
• Jack Layton’s Cancer: I’m a heartless meathead, but even I’m not that  heartless.
• Danny Williams Heading South for a Heart: My brother already covered that much better over at the Sanctuary of FGM. Check it out (warning, my brother is trying to conserve punctuation… either that or he’s trying to be Herman Melville).

When I’m stuck for a topic I find that world news is a good place to turn because it’s often got everything needed to make a story interesting: blood, stupidity, more blood, even more stupidity and entertainment news (or did I already say stupidity?).

The first place I usually turn to find a bunch of news on various topics in one place is Google news and that’s just where my internet browser is resting right now. So I scroll down to the Entertainment section and find something that’s a fair bit disconcerting.

You see, Solitary Reader, it seems that the peeps in Googleland have a rather odd sense of what’s entertaining. The Entertainment section usually features three major headlines and here, in exact order, are the headlines I’m looking at – keep in mind this is under the Entertainment heading.

• Minimum-wage freeze fires up debate
• What’s the story, Noel Gallagher
• Accused in subway pushing appears in court

Okay so two of these things belong together, two of these things are kinda the same, can you guess which one doesn’t belong here? Now it’s time to play our game (time to play our game!).

The thing about the two of these headlines is that they wouldn’t necessarily be considered entertaining by people considered normal by the rest of the world. In times of economic peril, how is the fact that minimum-wage will be frozen entertaining? Unless we’re aiming that particular bit of trivia to the good CEO’s of the world. I can imagine the smoking room conversation:

CEO #1: I say govnah (lighting cigar with 5 dollar bill) did you heah they froze the minimum wage?

CEO #2: (tries to light cigar with dollar bill and realizes that in Canada we use coins for the $1 and the Loonie ain’t flammable) No way dude! Wicked!

And the other non-entertainment related article – why the Noel Gallagher one of course – who would find that hack entertaining? Just kidding. Okay well I’m not kidding, Oasis is as relevant as the last meal eaten on the Marie Celeste (although I’m sure the music on the Marie Celeste was better).

Headline #3:  Accused in subway pushing appears in court – how is this entertainment related? It could be on Court TV I suppose, but who watches Court TV? It’s even got a sub-link stating: “Woman and baby pushed toward subway tracks?” Sweet merciful Crap guy at Google – fix yer crawler? That’s not entertainment.

Now to be honest, I haven’t read the article so its possible either the pusher or the pushee were Sandra Bullock (I could see a case for either) and that might make the article semi-entertainment related. But I, for one, don’t find the idea of a mother and child pushed towards an oncoming subway car to be entertaining (unless Spiderman is going to web in there and save the day (with The Backyardigans singing “Save the Day” in the background).

So, CEO of Google, whose name I don’t know but could probably google, I think you need to stop playing ultimate frisbee with your minions (er, employees, what century is this?) on Google Island and sit down and have a heart to heart with the guy/gal that picks your Entertainment headlines.

That dude or dudette has some issues.

Sincerely,

The Eloquent Sparrow

Why Don’t Vampires Get Scurvy?

Dear Solitary Reader: If you watch TV, and I know you do, you have at some point while surfing through the 700 channels that grace your cable box run across some sort of vampire related TV watching.

There’s a myriad of shows out there – Vampire Dairies… huh? What? Oh sorry Vampire Diaries. (As an aside both of those shows bear potential for hilarity Vampire Diary: June 12 Dear Diary, today I ate someone. June 13 See June 12 etc. the other would make a great B movies about vampiric cows (note copyright movie about vampiric cows – I shall name it The Herd: Night of the Blood Red Mooooooo-n).

As for vampire shows there’s also True Blood, I haven’t watched it but have heard good things regarding it. Then there’s the quintessential Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel – both shows that re-ignited Hollywood’s love of the vampire and have kept it fairly strong.

Movies like Daywatchers, whatever that one where the vampires took over that town in the arctic and ate frozen villagers… I think it was called Bloodshake or something. Oh and then there was that movie called Twilight.

I don’t see a whole lot wrong with the Vampire subset of fiction but here’s what’s getting to me on this lazy Friday evening: why do so many of these shows have to have the brooding vampire. What, exactly, does a vampire have to brood about?

Really, in my gloriously relevant opinion, Angel did it first and did it best. Vampire has no soul, gets a soul and realizes he’s done some bad things. Feels bad about it. It could happen. But in a way I wish Joss Whedon had foregone that plot twist (although it would have deprived me of meeting Doyle and Lorn – two of the best secondary characters to ever have existed and may they both rest in peace – and not to mention all those extra years that Charisma Carpenter was on the air – mmmm Charisma) because of the countless knock offs that it would inspire.

Ever since Dracula, the vampire has been portrayed as a semi-romantic figure (you know for something that’s  gonna eat you after it’s done with you (why aren't spider’s considered romantic?)). And now you throw in this handsome vampire guy who’s all of a sudden got these pangs of guilt to go along with his pangs of hunger and he’s got a pout down to his ankles and women (and some guys) are swooning. That’s right – I said swooning.

But I ask you, oh solemn vampiric one – why are you so glum (other than the lack of  Vitamin C)?

• Sure you’ve probably killed a lot of people, but you’ve stopped doing that – so get over it. You’re immortal so you have a lot of time to make up for what you’ve done; you’ll always be thin so you don’t have to worry about your weight (tangent: do vampires gain weight when they eat fat people?).
• Sure your stocks are down (whose aren’t?), but you’re immortal, so if you just let them hang in the market for a while, they will come back up.
• Assuming you started with youthful good looks, and they all seem to, you’re going to have those forever (on the downside, if you were an ugly bastard when you were alive, not aging isn’t going to improve that). 
• Sure getting a wooden stake through the heart will end your un-life, but if there’s one thing that Sonny Bono taught us, the same thing will happen to you if you’re alive too.

So, you see, I just don’t get it. Why are all these vampires so glum? Perk up vampy – sure life sucks – but you’re dead so enjoy it.

Radia-radical

A couple of weeks ago our range top microwave died. Normally microwaving in the household is a rather interesting adventure, because this thing sucked up power like … well something that sucks up a lot of power.

It was not uncommon for ye olde microwave to trip yon breaker and to hear my exclamation of “SHIT!” as my computer, the alarm clock, the TV, the lights, the small light over the kitchen sink, the printer, my wife’s computer and a host of other things all got an immediate and well earned break.

But in the last couple of weeks I’ve missed ol’Mike (that’s now its name, I christen thee Mike, in nomine patre blah blah blah) and the ability to heat food from frozen in 3 minutes.

I can now go back to playing that game of “Let’s see what Freezer item this was before it froze!” and not have to way 23 hours for the results.

So how did Mike the Microwave get fixed? Well through fortune and the grace of God I married a smart woman – a smart woman who also happens to be very Dutch. The smartness played out in that she knew to research our particular model and found out that Mike’s family isn’t that great of a family of microwaves – they are genetically predisposed towards breakage you might say. And too, she called up yon store from whence Mike came and they said: “Sounds like a fuse – that’ll be four bucks. Oh and be careful when yer changin the fuse to make sure the capacitor ain’t full – y’all could die.

Um… what you say? DIe?

First off, outside the frickin’ Star ship Enterprise what the hell is a capacitor doing on earth? And second – why is it possible for my microwave to kll me? Even after its died? The only thing that is allowed to kill me after its died are vampires, zombies, lichs, ghouls and Oprah… oh wait I already said ghoul didn’t I?

Well after some moments of trepidation I reached my hand in… and that’s when it happened. … nothing. The fuse popped out fairly easily, I popped in the new one, plugged Mike in and he lit up like Kiristie Alley at a buffet.

Welcome back to the fam-damily Mike. I just hope the Dilithium crystals hold up…

Talkin’ bout my generation

So over the lovely meal my wife cooked today she informed me that apparently studies are starting to show that non-stick pans have negative side effects on the human body.

I didn’t dare ask if she’d used the non-stick skillet to cook supper.

When I heard the news I felt a sense of disappointment, and yes fear, all out of sorts with the disclosure of so small a fact. When you think about it, of course non-stick pans are bad for you – non stick pans do not occur in nature (well, perhaps downriver from some old 1970s Dupont plants they do) and therefore there’s bound to be all sorts side effects. Now, I haven’t seen the studies myself, and I don’t think the scientists will be able to make the accusations stick (haha).

Whenever I look back on my childhood, adolescence and the rest of the fiasco that is my life I am yet again convinced that my generation, and people 10 years on either side of it, were mere tests subjects for someone or something.

Thanks to the myriad of skinned knees they no longer put cement on playgrounds (some of them even have some sort of weather resistant rubber finish that prevents skins) and the merry-go-round, causer of much child v&v (vertigo and vomiting) has been banished.

Back in the 80s you could get anything in a can – spray crackers, spray cheese and spray tuna and with three easy sprays you had yourself an hors d'oeuvres. Once you compress something into a can and shoot it out of a nozzle, I’m fairly certain whatever nutritional value existed in the first place remains in the can.

And you can’t tell me that all of the cereals we imbibed as children haven’t contributed to the decay of society (and the increase in dentists). I am fairly certain, for instance, that Puffed Wheat was merely Styrofoam packing peanuts with some food colouring thrown in.

Does anyone remember the Pixie Stick? Yeah, I’m fairly certain that piece of sugar shite is why I’m bald right now; its fairly common knowledge that increased sugar intake as a child causes an acceleration of the cells within the hair follicle causing them to burn out faster.

Don’t get me wrong – if you were to whack me in the face with that very same Pixie stick right now I would beg you for it. I loved those things. Think about it – there has to be a reason that half of the candies we bought, ate and loved as kids are no longer in existence.

So back to the non-stick. I’m assuming that its when the non-stick particles come off the pan and you eat them that that’s where the problem lies (and you thought that was pepper!); but here’s the good news – chances are, as its non-stick, the particles won’t stick inside you.

This situation has another down side because if they take it off of the market  a whole generation of people will be deprived of the dependable joke of: How do they get the non-stick surface to stick to the pan?

Technorati Tags: non-stick,harmful,pixie sticks,80s,eighties

CNN, Why are you yelling at me?

I made the mistake of turning on CNN today – well I didn’t consciously turn it on, it was more of an accident.

After roughly 15 seconds of the verbal barrage I felt pretty bad about myself, my gender, my country, Haiti, missing children and the entire world. I felt bad about everything. Of course I had the misfortune of tuning in right at the point where Nancy Grace was on.

I don’t get how that woman is on TV. I’m not so shallow (anymore) to believe every woman on TV should be gorgeous (though hey, it would be nice) but this woman looks like she posed as a model for the ugly stick. Ironically its not her face, or not just her face; in pictures  on the CNN web site she almost looks like your normal run of the mill type of middle age woman, just not the sort you’d want to get on the wrong side of in a PTA meeting mind you..

But the moment that woman opens her mouth its like a great roaring gush of negativity – the world is a horrible place when that woman speaks.

It’s not just her – its all of them. In the brief period between when I realized I was being sucked into an emotional black hole and the time I could find the remote control to turn the TV off Ms Grace was interviewing 2 reporters who were reporting on some story. Both reporters started off their comments with “Now of course, we don’t know what happened…'”

I say to you, reporter, if you don’t know what happened – why are you on my TV telling me this? I already don’t know what happened, your job is to rectify that situation.

CNN – and I’m assuming Fox news is probably the same way but happily I don’t think I’ve ever seen it – seems to believe that by yelling the story at you, its that much more important. Volume equals importance.  Seriously, hasn’t anyone told Nancy Grace that she doesn’t have to yell at us? She’s on TV, we can’t interrupt her. And its funny because it doesn’t matter what volume level you have the TV at – by that point I had turned it down substantially and it was like she was speaking with her Capslock on.

I get that CNN has to compete for market share in the world of TV and that the only way to make sure that people stay constantly tuned in is to have story after story that is not in fact a story after story; and I know that 24 hours is a lot of time for a news station to be on the air so 23 hours of that broadcast is either filler or repeat story … I just wish they wouldn’t yell.

Technorati Tags: CNN,news,Nancy Grace,yelling

Why Can’t Castle Age Money Be Real?

I don’t tend to play a lot of games that circle around Facebook, as an example I managed to get off the Farmville wagon before it got too crazy,  but one of the ones I’ve actually been keeping up on is Castle Age.

If you’re familiar with it, Castle Age, puts you in the harrowing situation of having to save several lands from various torturous villains hell bent on destroying the world, ruling the world, ruling then destroying the world, destroying and then ruling the pieces etc etc.

As you quest you hire generals to do various things. You can’t do certain quests unless you have the right general, but other than that these generals sit around like city workers (you know, two of them stand around talking about last nights episode of 24 while the guy with the least seniority actually digs the hole).

If you’re the confrontational sort you can attack other players, if you’re not you can just build up your defence and let them attack you until they lose. If you’re the cooperate sort you can help your friends fight dragons and villains and sea monsters (oh my!).

But while you do all of these things you accrue money. You can use this money to buy certain minions and real estate, but after awhile you have X amount of minions and lands, and like Solomon you look around and realize that its all empty. All the villains you defeated are still there and all the land you have keeps providing you with your own nice little feudal income.

I certainly don’t want to make the game sound boring, trust me this game is as exciting as repeatedly clicking “Attack Again” can be.

I’m currently on the verge of lvl 127 so I’ve definitely wasted my fair share of time on it.

So here’s the problem – after getting tired of repeatedly being attacked and have my easy earned cash stolen by people I started banking it (at a cost of 10% of the deposit these Castle Age bastards are worse then the buggers at the Royal Bank) and am up to about 3.1 billion dollars.  That’s right $3.1 billion dollars.

Then I got tired of losing my 10% and stopped banking it. Coming by that cash wasn’t easy you know… I risked carpal tunnel syndrome for that. So currently my non-banked Castle Age funds are in the neighbourhood of $7.7 Billion dollars. That, combined with the banked funds, puts me pretty close to 11 billion Castle Age dollars. I mean realistically if this were real money I’d have enough to buy several of the Atlantic Canada provinces and a couple of the New England states; at which point I would set up my own little dictatorship on the Eastern Seaboard which I would call Billopia and outlaw the mallard.

I’m just waiting for the day when the makers of Castle Age work out a deal with the government of Ghana to have them convert their national currency to Castle Age Bucks (which will affectionately be known as the “CAB”) at which point I will move to Ghana and set myself up as a successful man about town… does Ghana have towns?

I just hope the makers of Castle Age don’t see this and expel me from playing the game… if they do, look for the following email:

FROM:MR BILL

DEAR FRIEND,

I AM LITTLE BILL, Son OF LATE PRESIDENT BILL OF Castle Age? NOW KNOWN AS DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF Castle Age Land I AM MOVED TO WRITE YOU THIS LETTER, THIS WAS IN CONFIDENCE CONSIDERING MY PRESENT CIRCUMSTANCE AND SITUATION.

I ESCAPED ALONG WITH MY Mother AND TWO OF HER SONS JAMES KONGOLO AND BASHER NZANGA OUT OF DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF Castle Age Land TO ABIDJAN, COTE D'IVOIRE WHERE MY FAMILY AND I SETTLED, WHILE WE LATER MOVED TO SETTLED IN MORROCO WHERE MY Father LATER DIED OF CANCER DISEASE. HOWEVER DUE TO THIS SITUATION WE DECIDED TO CHANGED MOST OF MY Father'S BILLIONS OF DOLLARS DEPOSITED IN Castle AGE BANK AND OTHER COUNTRIES INTO OTHER FORMS OF MONEY CODED FOR SAFE PURPOSE BECAUSE THE NEW HEAD OF STATE OF (DR) MR LAURENT KABILA HAS MADE ARRANGEMENT WITH THE Castle Age GOVERNMENT AND OTHER EUROPEAN COUNTRIES TO FREEZE ALL MY LATE HUSBAND'S TREASURES DEPOSITED IN SOME EUROPEAN COUNTRIES.

HENCE MY family AND I DECIDED LAYING LOW IN AFRICA TO STUDY THE SITUATION TILL WHEN THINGS GETS BETTER, LIKE NOW THAT PRESIDENT KABILA IS DEAD AND THE SON TAKING OVER (JOSEPH KABILA). ONE OF MY LATE Father'S CHATEAUX IN SOUTHERN FRANCE WAS CONFISCATED BY THE FRENCH GOVERNMENT, AND AS SUCH I HAD TO CHANGE MY IDENTITY SO THAT MY INVESTMENT WILL NOT BE TRACED AND CONFISCATED.

I HAVE DEPOSITED THE SUM OF EIHGTEEN BLLION Castle Age DOLLARS(US$18,000,000,00.) WITH A SECURITY COMPANY , FOR SAFEKEEPING. THE FUNDS ARE SECURITY CODED TO PREVENT THEM FROM KNOWING THE CONTENT. WHAT I WANT YOU TO DO IS TO INDICATE YOUR INTEREST THAT YOU WILL ASSIST US BY RECEIVING THE MONEY ON OUR BEHALF.ACKNOWLEDGE THIS MESSAGE, SO THAT I CAN INTRODUCE YOU TO MY SON ( KONGOLO ) WHO HAS THE OUT MODALITIES FOR THE CLAIM OF THE SAID FUNDS.

I WANT YOU TO ASSIST IN INVESTING THIS MONEY, BUT I WILL NOT WANT MY IDENTITY REVEALED. I WILL ALSO WANT TO BUY PROPERTIES AND STOCK IN MULTI-NATIONAL COMPANIES AND TO ENGAGE IN OTHER SAFE AND NON-SPECULATIVE INVESTMENTS. MAY I AT THIS POINT EMPHASISE THE HIGH LEVEL OF CONFIDENTIALITY, WHICH THIS BUSINESS DEMANDS, AND HOPE YOU WILL NOT BETRAY THE TRUST AND CONFIDENCE, WHICH I REPOSE IN YOU. IN CONCLUSION, IF YOU WANT TO ASSIST US , MY SELF SHALL PUT YOU IN THE PICTURE OF THE BUSINESS, TELL YOU WHERE THE FUNDS ARE CURRENTLY BEING MAINTAINED AND ALSO DISCUSS OTHER MODALITIES INCLUDING REMUNERATION FOR YOUR SERVICES.

FOR THIS REASON KINDLY FURNISH US YOUR CONTACT INFORMATION, THAT IS YOUR PERSONAL TELEPHONE AND FAX NUMBER FOR CONFIDENTIAL PURPOSE AND ACKNOWLEDGE RECEIPT OF THIS MAIL USING THE ABOVE EMAIL ADDRESS.

BEST REGARDS,

Bill… er, someone who wasn’t banned from Castle Age.