That was a bit of a kick in the junk, I tell you, but I’m not the sort of person who will let Big Government keep him down! With this in mind I have started an Adult Entertainment Film Company called Naughty America

and have been writing a series of pornographic scripts for American patriot and sex bomb county clerk Kim Davis, who gained international attention after defying a US federal court order requiring that she issue marriage licenses to same sex couples.

Script #1

(Kim Davis, wearing sweat pants and a sports bra is sitting in the stands at a baseball stadium drinking a beer and watching a young man take batting practice. It is early evening and it appears that Kim and the nubile athlete are the only people there. Sax music plays in the background.)

Kim: You’re just as black as night, aren’t you?

Baseball player: Un día voy a ser rico a través de mis esfuerzos , si Dios quiere.

Kim: (Takes off top and tosses her mullet) I like the way you handle that wood.

Baseball player: (Stops hitting, spits on the ground) I will sex with you once, $100, no lip touches.

Kim: Let it rain, baby, let it rain.

Script #2

(Mug Shot of Kim Davis, background slowly turning into an undulating American flag)

Voiceover: My name is Kim Davis and I’m an American patriot. When God said let there be marriage, he said it was between Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve, okay? I am a warrior for God, damn it, and if they put me in prison, well, they’re just putting me closer to God, so it’s really like a promotion. Like the Good Book says, “Then the Philistines seized him and gouged out his eyes; and they brought him down to Gaza and bound him with bronze chains, and he was a grinder in the prison. So there.”

(Fade out and then fade in to scene of Kim Davis naked in the shower. She is very slowly washing herself, and as this progresses, this slow, tender cleansing, she begins to speak to Jesus)

Kim: Clean me, sweet Jesus, clean the hell out of me. There Jesus, there’s a real dirty spot! Clean it, my divine Lord who looks just like Kid Rock, clean it faster!!

That’s it, that’s the purity I’m looking for sweet Lord, that’s it. Oh, you are a good and just Lord, amen, yes, amen!
Script #3

(Kim Davis is in a confessional, Pope Francis is listening on the other side)

Kim: Forgive me father for I have sinned. I am like, crazy turned-on by hot homo guys going at it. (Scene changes to gay sex between two men, while Kim’s voice continues her confession)

Oh, I like them when they’re smooth and when they’re hairy, I like how hard everything is and how they’re as powerful as America or a truck. (A naked Kim Davis is now in the scene with the men) It makes me want to roll around with them, to be their carpet and absorb everything!

Pope Francis: It sounds as if the fever dream a young priest once told unto me in a quiet and dark nook of the Vatican. In his telling, the Rosary beads were for more than just praying, they became a conduit to truly transcendent, Godly feeling. Oh, Brother William, I miss him so.

When I got into the taxi I was startled by how pleasant it actually was outside. The weather, if I had to describe it, was rather gentle and I was entirely embarrassed to have thought there was some sort of storm thundering around outside.

I told this to the driver, explaining that I was originally from Ottawa where winter was a bare-knuckled punch to the face and there, I wouldn’t have even noticed this little snow shower. He laughed, “Yeah, I know what you mean, man. I’m from Calgary and winter is a different game altogether. I used to be a trucker out there and often when you’re driving, you’re in the wilderness, and when you come across the mountains, well, I tell you, it’s something else. It’s like they have their own weather systems. You’re alone on the road and you feel absolutely tiny before them, and all around you, everywhere you look, just blankets of snow, snow covering everything! I actually found it eerie, and when a storm swept in off one of those mountains, oh boy! Suddenly, and I mean this, you couldn’t see a thing, complete whiteout, and there was nobody there to help you! Just keep your hands on the wheel,  your eyes open, hope there’s no avalanche. It really felt like nature was just going to swallow you up and vanish you from the face of the earth. And keep in mind, I was driving a huge rig, but hell, that was just a toy in comparison. I swear, I never felt so vulnerable or mortal, and after awhile I couldn’t take it, which is why I took up driving a cab. I feel safe in the city, this,” he gestured to the outdoors, “this shit is nothing.”

The bus negotiates the winter night:
a flickering ship in the pine forest
on a road as narrow and deep as a dead canal.

Few passengers: some old, some very young.
If it stopped and switched off its lights
the world would be deleted.

As some of you may know, Rob Ford was enrolled at Carleton University in Ottawa back in the 1980’s and he and I used to be last-call regulars at the same bar. We haven’t seen one another in 20 years and have never had a sober conversation, but we were drinking buddies and as such continue to have short, on-line chats whenever one of us is drinking alone.

On Friday morning at 1:39, I got this message from Rob:

Rob: Hey Mur, you catch the Olympics?

Me: Slobber! It was a Bronze Bonanza for Canada, my man!!

Rob: How ‘bout that Udon Bolt guy, eh? The night before he won all the races he did three chicks from the Swedish handjob, I mean handball team! What a stud!!

Me: Usain Bolt, he should be the new James Bond.

Rob: Yeah, that lightning Bolt guy. If I were in his position I’d do some of the lady divers. It turns my crank when they’re all wet and then shower and go into that hot tub together. Love to party with them, man. SHOOTERS!!!

Me: SHOOTERS!!!!

Rob: asadafsdafdpaaaaf9as9d0as

Me: ????

Rob: Fucken cat just walked over the laptop.

Me: Oh.

Rob: I wana get a big dog, call him Flat Screen, but the wife won’t let me. Says I’ll never take him for a walk.

Me: You wouldn’t.

Rob: HAHAAHAHAHAHA! Ain’t it the truth!

Rob: Mur, I tell ya, I just can’t root for Canada during the Olympics. They’re losers. It’s the USA for me, just respect the way they go about stuff, you know? Look at the way they handle war, football, cars, food and stuff. They got it going on. And Jennifer Aniston, too!!!

Me: She’s always been your special friend.

Rob:  BOURBON!!!

Me: Bourbon shooters for all!!

Rob: And US cars rule!  I got a new ride, an Escalade.

Me: The Escalade, that’s what all the rappers sing about, right?

Rob: You know it, little brother. Big shit storm up in Toronto about my ride.

Me: What happened?

Rob: Some fart hole took a picture of me reading while driving down the Expressway. Wasn’t even breaking 100! Now all the green-freaks are on my ass. They can kiss MY ASS!! HAAAHAAHAH!!

Me: I hear you, Slobber.

Rob: Goddamn Escalade drives itself—you don’t need to be paying attention. Things a tank! Couldn’t hurt myself if I tried!

Me: What music do you listen when you’re driving?

Rob: RATT. They really clear the brainpan. Psyche’s me up for the day.

Me: Cool. Did you see the Spice Girls at the closing ceremonies for the Olympics? Still looked pretty good, eh?

Rob: Oh Yeah! Ginger for me, man. And Posh. And Scary. And the other one, Baby, they can all hop in the hot tub with me and the diver girls!!! SPLISHSSSPLASHSPLISHSPLASSH!! But not Sporty, she’s like a dude.

A big, heaving white guy, he’s the kind of man that gets all red in the face and pumps his fist in the air shouting stuff like, “the gravy train must stop!” He has tiny, receded eyes that make him look as if he’s spent most of his life underground, hair that’s thin, sparse and so absent of colour as to appear transparent and emits the general vibe of a defeated salesman. His life has been buckshot with the sort of Frat Boy controversy you’d expect from a guy that grew up idolizing Rush Limbaugh and the CFL.

He’s not really into the brainy, micromanaging of governance, preferring instead to “take the bull by the horns.” Very often he does this by calling in to talk radio stations or writing letters to his constituents. These are some of Rob Ford’s recent missives:

To a 17 year-old suspected of committing a recent robbery:

Dear Mister Winston,

It’s Rob Fucking Ford here, Mayor of Toronto.

You’re scum.

I don’t want you in my city. I want you to leave my city. You’re a loser and a disgrace to the honest, hard-working citizens of my city. You think it’s cool to hold-up a gas station? Well, it’s not. We need gas to drive our cars. Did you ever think about that? I bet you didn’t. It’s not a victimless crime. You’re a loser and I swear, if I ever hear of you doing something like that in my city again I am going to take you out on the football field and make you my cheerleader, you bitch.

To a militant cyclist who organized a protest on a busy street at rush hour to  bring attention to unsafe biking conditions:

Dear Ms. Hairy Hippy Chick,

It’s Rob Ford here, yeah, that Rob Ford, the Mayor of your city. Lady, it’s not the 60’s, shave your armpits, get a job and learn to drive a goddamn car! If I see you protesting on one of my friggin’ streets again I am going to run you over in my Escalade. I’ll enjoy it. I want to rid my city of people like you and the goddamn pigeons who shit all over the place. You’re of the same diseased flock, as far as I’m concerned. Look out for me, license plate reads  “Go2Hell” and I drive fast, faster than Batman.

To a store in Chinatown that is suspected of selling bootleg movies:

Dear Mr. Chang or whatever,

It’s Mayor Rob Ford and I you boss. You do laundry for me, understand? No legal-legal to sell Hollywood star movies! Very bad! I shut you down like Jackie Chan, unless you me give Big Man Me movies I want. Big Man Me like Jennifer Aniston and movie with fast car and crash, understand? Keep them coming or I on you like white on rice.

To a graffiti artist known as DMC:

Dear Coward who hides behind the coward name DMC:

What the hell does DMC stand for?

Dumb Moronic Candy-Ass?

I tell you what Rob Ford, Mayor of your fucking city, stands for, he stands for the rule of law. Got it? Just because I can’t draw I don’t take out my frustrations  by vandalizing the city, that’s what a coward would do. That’s what you do. You’re a piece of trash.

I demand that you leave my city.

NOW!!!

Go to France where they play sissy football, sissy!