This year, in an effort to be a little more sensitive to those who might be upset by the images, Sports Illustrated hired me to write Trigger Warnings to precede each photograph:
Trigger Warning:
Viewing of the following image of totally inaccessible supermodel Tanya Mituyshin may trigger traumatic memories of the time you saw high school goddess Marie-Therese Vitzhum in a bikini at a pool party when you were in grade 10. You might recall how out of your league she was and how she seemed like she might have been from Europe, or some angel galaxy that was as far from Ottawa as anything could possible be. You might recall feeling bony, insufficient and pale, watching as she sat piggyback on the shoulders of the muscular Randy Rafter, her breasts pressing against the back of his head as she leaned forward laughing. This image of Tanya Mituyshin could trigger such memories, creating a constant, deeply haunting reminder that you never mustered the courage to speak to MT– as she was known to her friends– and how regardless of the status and success you might achieve, you will always feel like that overlooked and scared 14 year-old boy.
Trigger Warning:
Viewing of the following image of supermodel Hannah Davies may trigger traumatic memories for people who have had difficult relationships with fishing nets in their past. This photograph could spark a deeply repressed memory of the time your friend, as a “prank,” threw a fishing net over you down by the boathouse while attending a cottage party, and instead of fighting to escape from the net, you lay in a fetal position and quietly wept for your mother, certain that you were about to be murdered, as you had always had premonitions of death by fish net.
Trigger Warning:
Viewing the following image of supermodel Gigi Hadid may trigger feelings of profound resentment and homicidal rage in people with a history of despising life in a society where Gigi Hadid, a glittering, young celebrity, is considered an achievable model of feminine beauty. Recollections of unreasonable and cruel demands may flood over you as you navigate the aisles of Shopper’s Drug Mart, your mind flashing red to every cultural message that has ever helped make you feel that you were somehow just not enough. You’re just trying to get some shit done after a long, grinding day behind your desk at the Ministry of Transportation, and then there’s Gigi, smoulder-glowing out at you from the pages of a stupid magazine, and suddenly, before you know it, you’ve kicked the hell out of an entire display stand of kale-and-beet-infused shampoo and punched-out a pharmacist, Club Optima points be damned.
Dear Iceland:
You know who I am.
I am Leonardo DiCaprio.
My resume speaks for itself. I am arguably the greatest actor of my generation (sorry Christian Bale), wealthier and more powerful than many small nations and have a Klout score of 88.2. I can make it rain.
You should know that I am a HUGE fan of your work as a weird island nation and am really impressed with your buzz. You’re punching above your weight, little guy, and you’ve got some great PR people in your corner!
I think that the two of us could do some great work together and with that in mind I’d like to attend the Iceland Writer’s Retreat this year in order to research a role for a film I hope to shoot in Iceland in 2016.
What is Leo DiCaprio’s project you ask?
It is to be the blockbuster of 2017. It’s to be called Written in the Ice, and I will star as an ex-CIA operative who has made a break from the dark world of Black-Ops he mastered in his past. Having been given a new identity, Leonhard Jónsson, now a fisherman and aspiring writer, is living a humble village life in Iceland.
He is crazy talented and charismatic, but he’s suffering a form of PTSD and has writer’s block. However, this lifts when he attends the Iceland Writer’s Conference and meets a quirky, hipster Icelandic woman (hotter and younger than Bjork, but suggesting Bjork) who believes she communicates with elves. They have sex.
Through one of her nocturnal communications with the elves, (she falls into an automatic writing trance but must be naked for it to work) she is given a secret for renewable energy that will save the world from global warming, but before Leonhard and her can get the secret out and save the world, evil government forces and big oil seek to kill them and destroy the information.
It will be the best movie ever, sweep all the awards and be a “Titanic” success for the Iceland tourism, but for me to properly play all the dimensions of Leonhard Jónsson, I will have to attend the Iceland Writer’s Conference, free of all expenses for myself and my staff of 28.
A few other requests:
For the process to properly work, I need to be in the presence of lots of beauty. Please ensure that the class is populated with beautiful women. I cannot stress the importance of this enough.
I will require a beach, and if it is off-season, then I will require that it is artificially heated so it simulates the tropics.
I will need a helicopter and a yacht.
I will only attend 45 minutes of the conference each day and will not be required to “turn in” any work for grading.
Legal immunity from the laws that govern Iceland will also be required.
Nobody is permitted to look directly at my man bun.
Looking forward to working with you, and my lawyers will be in touch shortly!
Regards,
Leo
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1. The Smiling Poncho (All staff must wear a poncho, and the chef will wear a sombrero with little, hooked fish hanging off the brim. It will be fun!)
2. Fish and Ships (You will sell ship knickknacks as an alternate revenue stream at the front desk.)
3. Clamorama (Deep-fried clams will be a specialty.)
4. Blood In The Water (This Risto will have a shark-attack themed décor. It will really stand out from the crowd and when you order the signature plate of paella, the theme music to Jaws will play as the serving staff brings it out. We will be a destination for birthday and bachelor parties, so if legal, we will have all serving staff working in bikinis and speedos. GAY FRIENDLY.)
4. Los Peces Sexy (Obviously, this means The Sexy Fish in Spanish. Consider Tango dance lessons in the evening?)
5. Scales And Males (This would be a gay restaurant)
6. Scales And Tails and Males (This would be a more flamboyant and risque gay restaurant)
7. Something Fishy. (This is cute, and I think that each night you should stage a marine-themed murder mystery production as entertainment for the dining guests.)
8. Crabbies (Part of the appeal of this incarnation would be the gruff, sailor-like atmosphere and service.)
9. Fishing for a compliment? (Could become popular with people on first dates!)
10. The Fishcotheque (On the weekends it a disco and fine seafood restaurant.)
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A blonde, Russian sex bomb, she has a different bikini for each day. Reclining in the sun he rests his head on her ass as he reads The Wolf of Wall Street, while she, reading what looks like a Russian supernatural thriller, kicks her feet back and forth in attempt to gather attention.
Simultaneously imperious and kittenish, she’s too obviously desirable to make eye contact with anybody else. To look her in the eyes would be an insult, to disrespect royalty. And so even though these two alphas are begging to be watched, everybody is looking away, pretending that they don’t notice them and that they don’t want to be invited to this crazy sex party they’ll never be invited to. No, we all look off at the horizon of water and sky, thinking of other things.
He defines himself as a man of action, and he loves the the ferocity of the ocean, of the power he will master. She prefers to pose by the poolside, stretching her body and tossing her hair, mastering desire. He’s encouraging her into the ocean, but she doesn’t want to get in. She’d have to take off her sunglasses. He sets an example, showing off, really, by diving and rolling easily through a wave as only a pro wake boarder might. He splashes water at her, but more contemptuously than playfully, as if irritated and saying, “C’mon, you’re in the tropics, enjoy it!”
She’s being bullied and she knows it.
Too small to withstand the surfer’s waves, she decides to recline in the breaking water like a calendar girl, shifting attention back to her, but the wave pushes in and knocks her over. Annoyed she stalks up to the resort where she immediately covers her head in a blanket and begins to furiously text. Moments later she goes into the pool with her big floppy hat and sunglasses and stares angrily off in the distance, literally pouting. The wake boarder returns to her, and just stands there not speaking. Posing in the sun is enough, the opportunity to do so all either of them really want from the other.
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Fun fact: The name Barbados is derived from the Bearded Fig trees once found in abundance on the island.
Fun fact: There are only three known ghosts on the entire island.
Fun fact: Barbados is the birthplace of Rihanna who lived here until the age of 16.
Fun fact: If a beach hustler with a gold tooth asks you if you want to buy a coconut or a seashell, he might mean cocaine or weed.
Fun fact: Bicyclists in Barbados do not wear helmets and shoes appear optional.
Fun fact: You will only see white women, as if in a movie they once saw, jogging on the beach.
Fun fact: Tiger Woods chose to have his wedding in Barbados in 2004.
Fun fact: Chickens roam as freely on the streets of Barbados as squirrels do in Toronto!
Fun fact: It is embarrassing to have your wife pull you to shore from an undertow when you were pretty sure you didn’t need any help at all, especially when cool looking locals playing dominoes were watching.
Fun fact: The people of Barbados have a long ingrained history of Christian principles.
Fun fact: Homosexuality is illegal in Barbados!
Fun fact: Some women in Barbados dress like superheroes– like those who wear capes and control the weather– for church on Sunday.
Fun fact: The middle-aged British women who sun on the beach all prefer reading crime mysteries to any other genre.
Fun fact: Sand crabs are faster and more perceptive than you’d think.
Fun fact: Finding an artificial flower petal washed-up on a gorgeous, dream beach is entirely dislocating.
Fun fact: The Six Million Dollar man is not a cultural reference widely understood by most Bajans.
Fun fact: Women who look like they might have worked at Coyote Ugly back in the day really enjoy the attention of beach hustlers.
Fun fact: Squid are also known as Seacat in Barbados.
Fun fact: Sometimes it is easy to mistake a night diver’s flashlight exploring the water just beneath the surface for sub-aquatic UFO activity.
Fun fact: In Barbados, one drives on the left side of the road, which is easy to forget, especially if you only have your Learner’s Permit.
Fun fact: Sometimes a monkey, as fast as a demon, will dart in front of your car.
Fun fact: Monkeys are not supernatural and can be killed upon impact with your car.
Fun fact: Monkey deaths are very upsetting.
Fun fact: The monkey face is very human and expressive and it is heartbreaking to see a dying one reach out to you with its little monkey hand on the side of a tropical road.
Fun fact: My wife can’t stop crying and I am pretty sure she now hates me.
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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.
]]>“We are very much supportive of the family — the biblical definition of the family unit,” he told the Biblical Recorder. On the radio, he observed: “I think we are inviting God’s judgment on our nation when we shake our fist at him and say we know better than you as to what constitutes a marriage.”
Instantly, there were all sorts of calls for boycotts of the chain, just as there were public displays of support for the chicken shop, most notably by vigorous heterosexuals Sarah and Todd Palin, who posed for photographs holding up big bags from Chick-fil-A.
It’s America, you know.
In an attempt to quell the PR damage that had been done Dan Cathy took to social media, fielding live questions on Twitter.
This is what followed:
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Rank69: Dude, if you’re so straight why is your last name a girl’s name?
DanCathy: It was my father’s name and I inherited it, so I didn’t have a choice.
Rank69: Do gay people have a choice as to whether they’re gay or not?
DanCathy: Of course, just like you have a choice to eat at Chick-fil-A or McDonalds!
Rank69: If you could choose your last name what would it be?
DanCathy: The Man.
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HelenofTry: How do you know what God thinks?
DanCathy: I read the Bible.
HelenofTry: Did God write the Bible?
DanCathy: It was more like a joint effort between the mortal and the divine.
HelenofTry: So God had a ghostwriter?
DanCathy: A Holy Ghost writer! : )
HelenofTry: But if you’re just accepting what the Holy Ghost writer says, you’re not thinking for yourself, right?
DanCathy: We make some tasty chicken!
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AAAXX3: Why is Snoop Dog changing his name to Snoop Lion?
DanCathy: I don’t know but he should change it to Snoop Chick-fil-A!
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CuriousChristain3: There are no girls in the Godverse, right?
DanCathy: I’m not sure I understand.
CuriousChristian3: Well, God didn’t have a wife or a mother, it was just him up there.
DanCathy: The Lord is our Heavenly Father.
CuriousChristian: That’s my point, there’s no Heavenly Mother. He must have been lonely.
DanCathy: I think God keeps very busy and probably doesn’t feel lonely.
CuriousChristian: Ok, but if God made Adam in his own image and he had no reference for what a woman looked like, where did he come up with the idea of Eve?
Why didn’t she look like another Adam, only with a hole instead of a rod?
DanCathy: Our mission is to create loyal fans; we plan to leave the policy debate over same-sex marriage to the political arena.
CuriousChristian: If Eve were more like Adam, by which I mean stronger, she could have helped fight off the dinosaurs.
DanCathy: The Lord knew what he was doing.
CuriousChristian: I guess so, he was probably a billionaire like you.
CuriousChristian: Still, you’d think God could have given women 6 arms or something so that they’d be better helpmates for their husbands.
DanCathy: 6 is the number of the beast.
CuriousChristian: Right! This brings me to chickens.
DanCathy: We’re proud to make the best chicken in the world!
CuriousChristian: Well, God made the chicken, you just cook it.
DanCathy: Yes, you’re right!
CuriousChristian: How did God come up with the idea for a chicken!? It looks demonic!
DanCathy: Well, our chicken at Chick-fil-A is divine!
CuriousChristian: Was the girl (eve) chicken made from the rib of the boy (Adam) chicken? How did that work?
CuriousChristian: And what was God thinking when he made a lobster?! Man alive, those things are crazy looking!
DanCathy: We want to thank you all for your loyal patronage of Chick-fil-A. God bless America!
