21 September 2017

A Visit From The Hammer

I woke
Ten minutes
Before the
Fucking alarm.

I sensed
There was
Someone in
The room.

It was
A ghost,
The Hammer
Making sure

We were safe.

18 September 2017

Juiciest Hamburger In Town

Makes a



The Junior "B" hockey rink.

17 September 2017

I Remain Unconvinced

I still read books and magazines. Different books and magazines magazines than I did when I was younger, but not that different. i.e. They are still made from trees (for the most part) and there are still sentences and sometimes even pictures in them.

You learn shit when you read words printed on paper. I remain unconvinced that electronic editions of the very same content provide an equal learning (or entertainment) experience.

Today I read a cup and half of Starbucks pumpkin spice latte packs 50% more calories than the same portion of a popular pumpkin ale. I am pretty sure this is solid proof that Starbucks customers, nearly all of whom are married to multiple electronic devices in addition to high fat caffeine drinks, have highly developed mind rot.

Unfortunately it is the very same mind rot that causes a man to drink a pumpkin ale instead of a fucking beer.

15 September 2017

Silver Naked Ladies

Inevitably, shit passes us by. Shit we wish we had not missed. I fucking hate that.

Now and then, however, some of that same shit comes by to attract the fuck fast fleetingness of our 21st centry attention spans. Do not let that same shit pass you by twice.

Case in point: Paul Westerberg's "14 Songs." Came out back in '93. It was well received but came out a time when I was recovering from one of my many near death experiences and when it was hard to come by music in my favourite format: the record.

Whole thing is totally worthwhile but it is the song that would have been the last song on the A side that I am going try and attract your attention to: "Silver Naked Ladies." If you are unfamiliar with it and get joy listening to, or playing, porn star perfect rock 'n' roll songs you simply must hear this. Note fucking perfect it is and sung with more attitude than a freshly patched motorcycle club on its first run.

I have been playing the song over and over in the Cadillac (with the whips, furs and cold beer in the back) for a week and I am not done yet.

13 September 2017

I Figured You To Be Long Dead

Ran into someone I used to get fucked up with some in Sliverville junior high school days. Figured him to be long dead.

"Beer!" he hollered like a half deaf sawmill hand. "I figured you to be long dead!"

Turned out he had made a life for himself in motherfucking Alberta and had returned, as few do, to Sliverville to retire.

"Bit of a fuck show Sliverville is. Always was. Always will be. Got the ugliest hookers you ever seen fucking customers in cars out front of my place day and night. Half the houses on my street are grows; the other half full of Chinese too scared to open their doors never mind come outside. Cheap hot shit for sale at garage sales every weekend and half the cops on administrative leave and the other half on the fucking take."

We went for beer. Had a fuck of a time. Grew up with lots like him. People who knew what the fuck was going on, knew it was not good, could not have given a fuck and never would.

12 September 2017


I can recall the events of 911 as well as anyone. I was home on vacation. Having had a recent premonition of a particularly fiery event on the near horizon was why I was home and not high in the mountains with wild trout and drunk bush clowns for company.

It was sunny. Just like today. When I woke up an English radio host with extensive history in and knowledge of the Middle East, then normally heard in the afternoon, was on the air. I knew immediately something bad I had expected to happen had indeed happened.

Turned on the tv to see one of the symbolic big towers in New York had been smashed into by an passenger jet. I knew instantly I would not be waiting long until the a second such jet would crash into the second tower and they would both soon come down.

I watched it all on television before I got bored, walked the dog to buy the Racing Form for the next day's Dope City Downs races, and then walked further yet to the pub to drink beer and make my hopeful selections. The tower fires played on the televisions instead of sports.

I had a great day and an even better one at the track the next day.

11 September 2017

Speaker Daryl Plecas

The editorial board of the Dope City Free Press does not hand out one fuck of a lot of compliments. Guess it is easier to spot an ass than a non-ass.

Today we would like to make an exception to our anti-complimentary nature. The exception is for Abbotsford MLA Daryl Plecas. Elected handily by the workers and farmers of my neighbourhood he decided to accept the honourable position of Speaker of our newly formed provincial legislative assembly.

To say his (now former) Liberal Snot Party of British Columbia shit themselves upon learning of his decision may be the understatement of the year.

Do not see action one can only describe as gutsy from a politician often these days. The MLA who preceded Speaker Plecas was a similarly gutsy individual. Must be something in the Abbotsford South beer all our politicians should be quaffing.

10 September 2017

I Dare Say

I dare say no one could get their picture taken with a dozen people from Surrey and not be among the violent or the depraved. Just saying.

5 September 2017

Moving To California

It is hot.

The beer
Is barely
Working to
Counteract its presence.

All my
Friends in
69 Mile House evacuated
From the wildfire path.

The smoke
Again blankets
Steepleton for us to choke
On like wild chained dogs.

If I
Had wanted to live
In fucking California
I would have moved there

4 September 2017

Happy Labour Day To the Workers of the World

I have never been
To ask for much.

A bed,
A chair,
A place to shit.

A sawmill,
A union,
The weekend.

One whisky,
Two scotch,
Three beer.

Happy Labour Day to the Workers of the World.