26 June 2017

The Biggest Canadian Mistake

Take away the right to say "fuck"
And you take away the right to say
"Fuck the government."

- Lenny Bruce

I was in Sliverville on the weekend. It seemed very peaceful: it seemed like how the suburbs were advertised to remain for all time when they began being built decades ago. The fucking government was highly supportive. 

Then I heard the shots ringing through the air. Shots shortly followed by police sirens. Swarms of police in numbers far beyond the single malt dreams of the suburbs' architects and engineers.

The various levels of government in Canada have made a lot of mistakes in 150 years. The suburbs, surely, is the biggest Canadian mistake of all.

23 June 2017

Rocking Shopping Centre

I was in the mall after work. It was pretty busy for a week day afternoon I guess.

I have hated malls for a long time now but I am already beginning to miss them before they are gone.

Debbie Harry was singing "Heart of Glass" on the mall PA as I walked. Always think of her and her band playing London in '77 and Dope City a few years later when I saw them again when I hear her singing. Wish I had been born talented and beautiful as Harry was.

Alas, I was born to drink beer and raise Hell so I got the fuck out of the mall soon as I could and went to the pub. Sat on the sun warm patio, drank beer and thought about Debbie Harry. Even thought some about the great naked  photos of her that came out once her celebrity status put the hounds of sleaze on her her trail. Had a beav on her that would not quit.

Too bad 1977 could not have lasted forever. World has been fucked over pretty well since Blondie was young. Only thing that has got better since then is beer.

21 June 2017

It Was the Best Anne Murray's Birthday Ever!

For once the highway was backed up as an overcrowded prison sewer in the opposite direction I was travelling home from the fucking mill after work. It was Anne Murray's birthday and I did not want to miss out any of the evening I had prepared for us to share.

There was beer, lobster, cake and Anne Murray records playing on the stereo. The sun was shining and breeze, gentle as a snowbird's song, was caressing the world as if the world thought it necessary to show a little appreciation for how she made this world a wee bit less frightful a place while she was singing for us.

You have noticed how much more evil the world has become since she retired from the stage haven't you?

18 June 2017

Too Many Voices In the Sky




On Music and The Great Canadian Prime Minister We Missed Out On

In addition to CKNW, the commercial fucking hillbilly local talk radio station I listen to upon waking up on work days, I listen to CBC radio on the way to and from the sawmill and for a few minutes before I go to sleep and dream about fucking Anne Murray.

I believe getting back to CBC, which I consumed much of as a younger man, has made me a little smarter than I would otherwise be. Learn all kinds of shit on the CBC.

For instance, one night recently, just before I joined Anne for a canoe fuck, I heard that what makes music valuable is the way it develops character. I am all for character. Reckon that is why I think Joe Keithley would have made such a great NDP MLA and why I continue to believe Anne Murray would make the best Prime Minister ever.

Character: something our country could use much more of.

16 June 2017

My Patience Weareth Thin

It would appear the leaky, defeated ghost tub aka The Good Ship Liberal Gravy Train, the one powered by tattered fishnet stocking sails upon a windless sea and commanded by Captain Christy "Black Beard" Clark is determined to not surrender until after Canada's 150th birthday.

One last photo opportunity, glass of champagne and gut full of caviar paid for by Her subjects for the captain and Her sycophants, you know.

My patience weareth thin.

13 June 2017

Elvis Would Throw Her a Party



Anne Murray's
June 20th!

Canadian/American Lumber War 2017 (Report #1)

It has been a while since the United Shitheads of America tarriffed the forest industry I work in. Me and the boys in my sawmill have not been asked to lose any shifts yet. Maybe we will not get asked to. No one old enough to remember can remember if we did the last time our southern neighbours fucked us over on lumber.

We know the lumber trade well enough in 2017 to share what sense we can make of it however.

"Trump is a fucking idiot," pretty much sums that wisdom up. We all know it is the greedy American lumber barons who are behind the attempt to further limit Canadian lumber's access to the American market but we do not know the names of those motherfucking pigs yet. In the meantime it is convenient to have a scam artist like the current American president to pin a tail on.

11 June 2017

Beat Merchant Saturday Afternoon

If you do not know motherfuck all else and you live around Dope City you know all you have to do is travel a little to find yourself out of the fucking rain and into a perfect day.

"We gotta get out of this place," Sonja suggested this morning as the clouds gathered force, took aim and attacked.

We headed west into one fuck of an extreme weather event. Talking water a foot deep. Global warming really giving it up our ass it was.

Soon however we were in Heavestown, sunglasses on, Beach Boys on the stereo. Visited the record store there. Run by a Westham fan, poor lad. Bought a Buddy Guy 10", audiophile copy of  Hawkwind's "Hall of the Mountain Grill," some BBC recordings by the Pink Fairies, Bachman/Cummings "Jukebox" cd (every bit as good as I had heard it was) and ordered the Headcats' live album.

Walked along the up and down river's edge quite some ways after that. Boats struggled upstream against the freshet like rock 'n roll fights for its very life in the demonic Disco Age; cutting power to conserve fuel making their deep purple lazy way back to sea.

Lunch of clams, salmon and salad. Tequila and cider for me. Red wine for Sonja. Velvet Underground sun lighting it all up like the Korean Peninsula will one day brighten our Chinese television screens.

From there it was to the big mall near the ferry terminal. Set Sonja free to peruse the sales there while I checked out the new Sunrise record store. Little pricey perhaps but a better selection than the previous mall record store had ever carried. Staff was polite and well bathed by record store standards. Walked out with a re-release of Lou Reed's "Rock 'n' Roll Animal" and copy of Emmylou Harris' "The Travelling Kind."

With time to kill I had a look in the mall's big sportsman's store. Tell you what: being a record collector is one fuck of lot cheaper than fishing and hunting. Kept my wallet in my pocket however, leaving the store with only a tremendous tub of cheesies.

Took a spot on one of the many mall couches after that with the other men who had chosen not to follow their wives about. Struck up a conversation with a Flip who was sitting next to me.

"What did you buy?" I asked as I motioned towards the bag at his feet.

"New barbecue cover," he informed me. "Very cheap," he added proudly.

He had lived in Canada many years, had a union job, fucking proud of it too.

He asked about the contents of my bags. I opened my tub of cheesies and we ate them like they were caviar.

"How come you buy records? Like buy wooden hockey stick?" he asked.

Told him if he bought himself a decent record player and a few Anne Murray records he would understand there was magic in this fucked up world of ours and you cannot find it in your smart phone.

His wife returned before Sonja. "What you buy?" she asked my orange finger tipped new friend. She inspected the barbecue cover's price tag and laughed. "I could have bought at the dollar store!"

8 June 2017

Cheap Trick and Bile

The great thing about the introduction of fucking CDs, a music format I did not buy until around ten years ago (when they were on their way out) (if they are on their way out), is I am still discovering really lovely music from the twenty year period I would not have them in my house.

My feelings for CDs in those days mirror what you think of that dink Trump. Recently I found a Cheap Trick "Music For Hangovers" 2002 Live CD still in its shrink wrap. The price tag told the whole story - $28.99. The morons (just about everybody) who paid that kind of money for even a great little CD like that one ought to have had their fucking heads examined with a god damn shot gun.

Another cool recent CD find is Bile's 1994 "Suck Pump." Top drawer no compromise NYC rock and fucking roll. It is the band's first. There are several more I simply must have. I shall be listening to "Ura Fucking Loser" when Christy Clark tells us, "Now I know how Margaret Thatcher felt," as the knives meet their mark and get twisted.