17 November 2018
I like Christmas as much or more as the next motherfucker. Too bad I cannot leave the fucking house without being Christmas fucking caroled to fucking death from now until fat fuck Mary sings. Like Christmas so much, in fact, I will share a Christmas story with you.
While cleaning out my office today I came across something that plain screamed Christmas: an old Christmas card. Made by UNICEF it is. Does not get more holly motherfucking jolly Christmas than that now does it? Card is undated but I reckon it must be a good three decades old as it is not made out of recycled shit paper. From someone I corresponded with while they were imprisoned in one of those countries some think a fucking wall will keep our women children and beasts of burden from being gang raped on a near daily basis.
Being no slouch, you will have noticed righteous as fuck jersey on the front cover. [A Montreal Canadiens’ jersey worn by a boy playing hockey in the street with his friends.] Take a good fucking look at it. In June it will drenched in champagne and the opposition’s blood.
I’ve got a new and improved TV. That means more channels, including MTV Brazil and ESPN. And that means hockey one night per week and, better yet, almost never the fucking Canucks!
Thanks for all the mail. They even let the Anarchist shit you send in to me. My fellow prisoners have me translate that shit into Portuguese.
Merry Fucking Christmas and Happy Fucking New Year.
The message within the card is a simple one. Peace, joy and friendship. Something I wish to you all. The prisoner who sent the card to me has been free for quite some time now. Could be they are your next door neighbour for all you know. Brazil, however, having elected themselves a fascist remain both in chains and ready to explode.
16 November 2018
28 October 2018
26 September 2018
It has often been observed one cannot get assistance when one wants in the retail environment (or any environment for that matter). Yesterday I found the opposite to be true. It was the dinner hour mind you.
Have not been as regular as I might be recently and when you shit beer like I do this is a serious lacking. So serious in this instance I sought pharmaceutical assistance. On the shelves of the Big Store pharmacy were many make you go potions. What to choose? The urgency of the situation made me ask for some assistance in the near empty store.
“Try Senokot,” the young woman suggested. “It has been in my family’s medicine cabinet for many years.”
I looked at the boxes of Senokot. There were two different kinds.
“Should I get the kind with added stool softener?” I asked her.
She looked deep into my eyes with her brown eyes and appeared to summon all the empathy for me she could muster and said, “Oh yes. The more stool softener the better.”
17 September 2018
Was in Dope City with Sonja on the weekend. Downtown.
“Loads of fucking Sounders’ supporters about,” observed Sonja. “Ugliest colours I have ever seen.”
There were Sounders fans fucking everywhere. In the pubs even. It was sickening. Later their team kicked the Whitecaps’ ass. Every last Sounders supporter probably made it back to the border without being accosted even once. A Sounders’ supporter would meet more bother in a senior’s home than they do on the once dangerous streets of Dope City. Is every one here really a bunch of wimps?
8 August 2018
5 August 2018
For the past while I have been sharing myself with FB. It is fun to do. However, even more like a radio broadcast than the Free Service I here provide, my FB posts disappear into Nik Turner’s mescaline universe faster than a punk rock 45.
Good thing too, I thought this morning, as I looked over my output thus far compiled on the FB machine. Load of crap it is except for a few 13 line poems I am fond of (and will soon reproduce here) and a couple stories I may one day transfer to this platform.
Takes more effort to come up with a bit of writing good enough to publish here. Effort, even mistaken effort, being, of course, sort of important when one undertakes any creative challenge.
4 August 2018
22 July 2018
Jimi was by.
We listened to
“Live at the Roxy.”
Then we listened to the new DOA
Record “Fight Back” loud enough
To disturb the neighbours
We had not yet disturbed.
We talked about Stubby and
All the dead motherfucking
Punks we had known or admired
Amazed we too had not expired.
24 June 2018
On October 17th, 2018 cannabis will be freed. Makes me more proud to be a Canadian since we pushed the Russians back in 1972. Oh, cannabis could be more freed than it will be. “A little grass never hurt anybody,” as my first booming grounds chargehand once advised me. That, I should think, will happen in time. Took 25 plus years since the renewed legalization movement began its offensive so I would be surprised that will happen soon. Changing Canadian government policy takes more patience than waiting for a mummy to shit in its wrap.
For example, an individual ought be able to possess much more than an ounce of cannabis. If any one Jim Pattison of the world wants to entertain a yacht load of guests they should be permitted to provide at least a pound of the best for their guests to dig into. No harm, no foul, after all and it is not like they are not going to do so, illegally, any way.