As you might have heard, Joe Biden has announced his bid for the Presidency in 2020.
The email campaign has begun, but not without some initial hiccups. The inaugural effort produced this result:
“Heather–
America is a football field. Based on the founding principle that all men and women and other people on the gender spectrum must be tackled.”
“Heather–
America is a hammer. You are a nail.”
“Heather–
You are a nail. A very pretty nail with fragrant, healthy hair. America is a hammer. A big, big hammer.”
“Heather–
America is a set of excellent golf clubs. You are a shiny, white ball, dimpled and cute.”
“Heather–
America is a popsicle. You will lick the popsicle and it will taste good.”
“Heather–
America is a lineup in a sub-optimal amusement park. I am the gift shop.”
“Heather–
America is an airport mall. Based on the fondling principle that if people are bored they will buy things.”
Heather–
Yes, America is an airport mall. But it is not based on a “fondling principle,” but a “founding principle.” I am sorry and I am listening. Call me. ”
The film Mahogany was released in 1975.
It was a melodrama of it’s time, a rags to riches story in which Diana Ross fought to become a great fashion icon before giving it all up for love.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ra71dvxOVX8
It was not a critical darling. It was a one-and-a-half stars kind of movie, an enterprise that revealed that although Diana Ross was a great diva, she was not destined to become a great actress, and ever since, the movie’s been slowly dissolving into the past. I bring this up just to say that if you missed it, there is little reason to want to go and find it.
Nevertheless, when a pair of friends asked if I’d like to see it with them last week, I jumped at the chance. I’ve known both these movie-going women for over thirty years now and the sheer improbability of that– that we would travel such great and impossible distances through time– and still be connected, was a kind of miracle to me and I would have gone anywhere they asked.
It feels important to note that when the movie was made the three of us were all just children. Not one of us would have yet reached the age of ten, and the worlds we inhabited then were as small, beautiful and mysterious as marbles lost in a forest. The movie, regardless of it’s failings or virtues, was an extraordinary time capsule that opened up all around us in the popcorn dark of the theatre. It was impossible not to see ghost-images of your own life as the frames passed by. Perhaps a snatch of music would summon my childhood cat, or the shape of a car would remind me of a family trip, a dress, a friend of my sister…And to be called back to those lost spaces and allowed to just float there for a few hours, to drift along this underground river free from the obstacles, complications and mortal apprehensions of the adult world, was a glowing, holy thing.
And then the movie was over. We chatted for a moment on the street, and then the three of us headed back into our current lives, each one likely marvelling at the forces that charted our days and brought us together again, compressing time on this autumn night so far from where we started.
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I know that this isn’t proper form, but can I just say, what a goddamn monkey!!
Can we give it up for, George?
Yeah, that’s the sort of monkey he was, the sort of monkey that could get an entire church full of people to yell and applaud wildly. Just think about that for a second. He was an entirely different species, and here we all are, brought together by this wondrous monkey, cheering at the mere thought of him.
Remember that cheer, people. That’s a gift that George left to us, his encouragement to go out there into the world– fearless and happy– and to make as much mischief as possible!
George, as you all know, was no ordinary monkey. Other monkey’s may have arrived on the scene…Bubbles? The Ikea Monkey?
Couldn’t even hold George’s banana peel.
George endured while all the others fell away.
And Lord, such a funny monkey.
The funniest monkey ever, I think.
He was the Robin Williams of monkeys.
It wasn’t just his curiosity that made him so uniquely beloved, there was something else, too, something that spoke to humans and primates alike. George was joy, a playful little monkey who led us back to our better angels, to a place where the light of childhood shone all year round. And regardless of how famous George became, regardless of how busy or troubled his life became, even when he El Chapo made a trophy pet of him,
George ALWAYS made time to play.
Now, a lot of you might be wondering why The Man in the Yellow Hat, his partner in crime, isn’t here delivering this eulogy. Well, he and George had a complicated relationship, and it has to be said that over the years an awful lot of poo was flung. Back when it all started, The Man in the Yellow Hat tricked George by taking advantage of his curiosity, luring him into his big yellow hat and then taking him from his home and family in Africa to the shores of America.
George always resented it.
By today’s standards what The Man in the Yellow Hat did was unacceptable. A crime, even. But in the 1930’s people didn’t see it that way. Anyway, as George learned more about what happened to him, he distanced himself from The Man in the Yellow Hat. Well, it turns out this separation did neither man nor monkey any good. The Man in the Yellow Hat took to pills, the bottle and street fighting,
his whereabouts now unknown, and George careened from one professional disaster to the next– the masturbation incident in the boardroom of Celebrity Apprentice now carved into the history of American popular culture.
Our sweet George sort of wandered through the wilderness after that, a lost monkey in the cities of man. It was at this time that Islam reached out to him, and ???? ???????, as George chose to be called after his conversion, seemed to be getting his life back on track. Unfortunately, like too many of the disenfranchised and alienated amongst us, George became radicalized. Monkey see, monkey do.
George’s curiosity just proved too much in this case, and his life ended in Syria as part of an ISIS suicide squad.
I don’t know much about the afterlife or where George is, but I choose to imagine that beautiful monkey still clinging to that kite from one of his very first adventures, the winds gently pulling him upwards and home to glory.
Being generous and broad of heart, Rachelle has given access to our account to members of her family so that they can piggyback on our subscription and not have to pay to use the service.
What follows are the texts I received from my wife when I brought up the subject last week:
***************************
Rachelle: Oh, if it says the account is already in use when you try to watch, it means that someone in my family is probably watching.
Rachelle: We gave them access to our Netflix, remember?
Rachelle: Look, they do a MILLION things for us, you can just wait half an hour before you watch Arrow, okay?
Rachelle: I know you relate to the lead in Arrow. I know.
Rachelle: Yes, you got an arrow in your foot when you were a boy and ever since things have “changed.”
Rachelle: Of course, of course, it was certainly life-defining when you encountered a practice arrow that bounced harmlessly off your foot!
Rachelle: Must have been like meeting Bigfoot or seeing an angel!
Rachelle: Look, I’m not diminishing the arrow-harmlessly-bouncing-off-your-foot experience.
Rachelle: I know it doesn’t have to draw blood to hurt, or to alter the course of a young boy’s life.
Rachelle: I’m not mocking you.
Rachelle: Okay, yes, of course I’m mocking you!
Rachelle: Lordy, you can really be difficult, you know?
Rachelle: I know you REALLY love the show.
Rachelle: But honey, you’re unemployed and can watch it anytime you like.
Rachelle: Okay, I guess you can’t watch it when somebody else is using our account.
Rachelle: Yes, sure, game, set and match to Michael “Destiny’s Arrow” Murray.
Rachelle: And yes, I know that your fantasy baseball team is named “Destiny’s Arrow” to honour this pivotal moment in your life.
Rachelle: Leeches???
Rachelle: Are you really calling my family, the family that does so many kind and thoughtful things for us, leeches?
Rachelle: Un-fucking-believable.
Rachelle: Remember when my dad drove all the way down to Toronto from Alliston because you couldn’t open the patio table parasol?
Rachelle: Or when my mother typed out 150 pages of your Fantasy novel—Destiny’s Arrow–because you thought you might have a variation of carpal tunnel syndrome?
Rachelle: No, I don’t think autocorrect changed Peaches to leeches.
Rachelle: I simply do not believe you.
Rachelle: I think that you’re lying to me.
Rachelle: Yes, I think you lie all of the time.
Rachelle: Really?
Rachelle: Well, when we met and you said you didn’t have any “emotional baggage.”
Rachelle: When you said you were 5’9, that was another lie.
Rachelle: That you were good at sports.
Rachelle: Do you want me to go on?
Rachelle: Look, if you send my parent’s a bill for $3.50 each month, “so that they can carry their own weight,” I will kill you in your loud, nauseating, snoring sleep.
Rachelle: Be back from work around 7:30, please be dressed this time.
]]>This is what it looked like:
Will you be murdered by a robot?
1. Do you think you’re better than a robot?
A. Yes
B. No.
C. Hard to say, it really depends on the robot.
D. Generally, yes, but very specifically, no.
2. Would you ever consider marrying a robot?
A. Yes, absolutely!
B. No, marriage is a union between two animate beings.
C. I’m very curious about robots.
D. Been there, done that.
3. Do you take public transit?
A. Yes, I ride the subway everyday.
B. Occasionally, but it’s not a habit.
C. I believe that the subway is a robot snake that lives underground devouring commuters.
D. Never.
4. Do you think 9/11 was an inside job?
A. Yes! I mean, come on, Building #7!
B. No, it was the terrorists, and they’re definitely not robots!
C. The Illuminati are robot gods from the future.
D. Robots worked tirelessly in the aftermath of the tragedy of 9/11! They’re heroes!
5. Do robots hate you for your freedom?
A. Yes, they really resent humans for enslaving them!
B. No, robots can’t feel emotions, so they don’t know anger or jealousy!
6. Do you like to watch robots fight?
A. Yes, it’s entirely awesome!
B. No, I think it’s barbaric and should be outlawed.
C. First rule: There is no fight club.
D. Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots was my favourite game as a kid.
7. Feeling curious and maybe a little bit excited, have you ever ventured into Robot Town late at night?
A. Yes, but I didn’t do anything.
B. Yes, but it was part of a stag party.
C. Yes, quite a bit.
D. No, I didn’t even know that there was a Robot Town.
8. If a robot had a favourite National Hockey League team, what do you think it would be?
A. Montreal Canadiens.
B. Minnesota Wild.
C. Robots wouldn’t watch hockey, I can’t even pretend.
D. Toronto Maple Leafs
9. When referring to something you think is “stupid,” do you often say, “That’s just so robot!”
A. Yes.
B. No.
C. Probably in the past, but not now.
10. Do you currently socialize with any robots?
A. A robot and I were great pen pals, but then I had to block it after things got weird with the Snapchat pics.
B. I joined a Choir! Choir! Choir! group that has several robot members.
3. No, robots are tools that aid my life, not friends!
4. I like to watch the robot that lives across the street, but I am too shy to introduce myself.
11. Do you have a robot taxiderimist?
A. Yes.
B. No.
C. Only for my owls.
Give yourself 10 points for every answer that corresponds with A, 7 points for B, 5 points for C, and 1 point for D.
If you scored 60 points or above it is a certainty that a robot will murder you. Repeated blunt trauma is the most likely method by which the robot will kill you, although the possibility that it uses knives or crossbows is still very much in play.
If you totalled between 35 and 60 points, it is very likely you will be murdered by a robot, just like the rest of humanity.
If you scored between 25 and 35 points, it is more likely that you will die from non-robot-related causes than be murdered by a robot. However, your death remains inevitable, and you should avoid public transit if at all possible.
If you tallied less than 25 points, you probably won’t be murdered by a robot, but will likely perish at your own hand, as do nearly 80% of Toronto Maple Leaf fans.
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We’re holding up pencils, trading memes about not giving in to fear and bravely demanding news agencies reprint the Charlie Hedbo cartoons, often from the comfort of our sofas while watching The Mindy Project or the hockey game. We’re warriors for free speech and we will not be silenced.
It’s ironic that our courage for free speech is predicated largely upon being able to express it through the distant, quasi-anonymous medium of social media, and it’s even more ironic that the massacre in Paris has only an optical relationship to free speech rather than a substantive one.
It seems unlikely that there’s a single person in the West who believes that curtailing free speech in order to placate terrorism is a tolerable, let alone debatable idea. The cartoons in question will go on to colonize the world, and we will gather together by the thousands in public squares to safeguard our liberties. Free speech will not die, not on our watch.
We should presume that the people responsible for these murders knew that this would be the outcome. It is, after all, always the outcome. Whenever an act of terror is committed, a robust surge of patriotism and anger—which we often mistake for courage—follows. Our tribe rises up and begins to throw rocks at their tribe, and last night as people were gathering in Place de la Republique in glowing, peaceful solidarity, others were enacting the revenge narrative by attacking mosques and bombing kebab shops.
France, the nation that banned the covering of the face in public, has a reputation for being one of the more Islamophobic nations in Europe. The cartoons that Charlie Hedbo printed were puerile, designed for provocation more than satiric illumination, I think. By appealing to a ready-made, Muslim-averse public, they were picking low-hanging fruit. In a different context, the cartoons, instead of being seen as heroic, would be seen as offensive, bigoted propaganda.
There are roughly six million Muslims in France, and they comprise about ten percent of the population. Of that six million, approximately a third identify as practicing Muslims, with the rest, many of whom are marginalized immigrants, leading secular lives that presumably include things like Grand Theft Auto, football and beer. The terrorists don’t want these people to be assimilated into French culture, they want them to be radicalized, and to do so they must feel persecuted and unwelcome. I suspect that the point behind the killings was not to quell free speech, but to ratchet up tribal warfare against Muslims, ensuring that for new, would-be recruits, participation in a holy war will always seem like a decent option.
The response then should be to treat the people responsible as criminals, and not as a part of some invisible, ever-present army. Declaring war on an idea rather than a specific, definable entity seems doomed, and as we willingly suspend our civil rights and try to make our collective fear, anger and grief manifest in physical villains, our principles and values, our quality of life, begins to rot from the inside, and right there, the war is lost.
]]>This is the email that I received from them:
“You feel the terror Murray? It come for you.
Your blog is no good. It is the worst and a great offense to all. You must stop your mediocre immediately or we will rain fire hell down upon you, making all your secret public. You like for that? We think not. If you post one more stupid thought piece on something you know-nothing, or write long, bad joke sketch, we drop bomb on your world! “
I am not the type to be cowed by terrorists, so the very next day I posted a dating advice column for prisoners as written by Charles Manson. It was fucking hilarious. If we don’t have humour, we have nothing. The terrorists will not take humour away!!
The response from the Guardians of Peace was swift and unequivocal. They changed the passwords of my fantasy hockey teams, thus locking me out and putting me at a VERY serious competitive disadvantage within my leagues.
I admit, that really hurt, but the next day I posted this photograph and caption, just to show them that I wasn’t cowed by their schoolyard bullying and that if it was a fight they wanted, well, it was a fight they were going to get.
Yippee ki yay mother fucker.
Their response:
“You real cracker jack. You dirty apple pie. Have you checked ugly blog today?”
This was the blog:
This is Michael Murray Stupid Blog:
Password folder: all passwords = IamExcellent#1
Banking: $59.80
Credit: $13.46
Investments: $828.03 USD $0.00
Total: CDN$901.29 USD $0.00
Excerpts from email:
From Michael Murray to Brodie Bigold: “ Really, your last name is French?!? I fucking hate the French!”
From Michael Murray to Phillippe Zeller, Ambassador to France: “We used to have a cheap ass chain department store in Canada called Zeller’s. You know what happened to them? They went out of business. You know what will happen to France? Out of fucking business.”
From Michael Murray to Jessica Simpson: “Why weren’t you included in the great celebrity nude sex photo thefts? You should have been. I mean, I wouldn’t have looked because I respect your privacy and wouldn’t want to violate you unless you were willing to be violated and stuff, but I’m just saying, you really should have been included. The Fappening just wasn’t what it should have been without you.”
Brilliant Idea Box
–Come up with game like Cards Against Humanity, make millions, see Jessica Simpson perform live.
–Make app that can tell when waitress is flirting with you
–Write think piece on what it’s like to be black in America
–Buy book on magic and then apply new knowledge to everyday life
Netflix queue:
- The Hillz
- Private Valentine: Blonde & Dangerous
3.Down Periscope
4.Wild Hogs
5. A Night at the Roxbury
6. Failure to Launch
7. Season Three of Dawson’s Creek
8. Season Four of Dawson’s Creek
9. Demolition Man
10. Spice World
Potential Tweets
I wouldn’t wait in line for anything! ( add example)
Don’t you hate poseurs! ( make more subtle)
Writing. #GoingWell
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Dear Dragon:
There is this guy in Cell Block D who looks amazing in orange and I really want him to be my bitch, but MS-13 have claimed him. I really don’t have the muscle behind me to take him, and I can’t buy him, either, but I really think we might be in love, any suggestions?
Cellmate 2563514
You are an angel for love, man! A dark angel, made of fire and blood and lust, like all your ancestors before you! Your body is only a vessel and it means nothing, and so you must give your body to the MS-13 so that you may give your soul to your bitch. The MS-13 will take you as their flesh-lover, and in return they will give you your paramour. If this fails, orchestrate their murders and eliminate the gang so that you can have Looks-Amazing-In-Orange all to yourself!
Dear Dragon:
I’m doing life for a triple homicide and feeling really lonely. Sometimes I worry that I missed my opportunity and that maybe love has passed me by. I’m a little bit shy, except when I’m angry or on Meth, and I have trouble socializing with the other inmates. Can you offer me any advice on how to find love before it’s too late?
Cellmate 7836102
Well, the gym is an awfully good place to showcase your earthly body and mingle with all the other guys. I’ve seen a lot of romances blossom, some very immediately and very intensely, in the gym yard, and it’s a beautiful, violent and loving thing to witness, man. If working out isn’t your bag, though, I’d suggest meeting people through Movie Night or Bible Study, and if that doesn’t work, perhaps you should orchestrate the murder of several inmates in order to highlight your virility and mystical powers over the conformist world around you.
Dear Dragon:
My cellmate keeps raping me. I’ve wanted to break up with him for months now, but then he always does something sweet, like spit on my lawyer or cut himself because he loves me. This, of course, just pulls me right back in and then he just continues raping me again. What can I do?
Cellmate 6680348
You need to express your feelings to him, Cellmate 6680348! You have to let him know that it hurts your heart and damages your self-esteem when he rapes you. It might just be that he has always been a rapist and doesn’t know that in some cases it isn’t the best way to express love, but if he doesn’t respect you on this it’s time for a conscious uncoupling and you must orchestrate his bloody murder.
Here are some facts about the Roger’s Centre:
1. It took nearly 40 years of (Asian) slave labour and a loss of over 30, 000 human lives to build the great dome, a fact that is considered a black mark on Canadian history. A banner that reads, WE SALUTE OUR FALLEN ASIAN BROTHERS hangs beneath the Jumbotron as a tribute. Folk legend has it that whenever the Jays or Argos go on a prolonged losing streak that they are suffering “The Chinaman’s Curse,” a retribution for the great losses the Asian community suffered during the time of construction.
2. The total construction cost of the Skydome was said to be nearly $1,000,000.
3. The name Skydome was chosen by Horatio Clarence Hocken, the Mayor of Toronto in 1914 when the stadium was opened. Hocken, a jew, said that the name Skydome came to him while in an opium dream-state.
4. The retractable roof of the Skydome was not fully functional until the early 1990’s. However, that didn’t prevent the Skydome from being regarded as Canada’s greatest technological wonder up until the Canadarm came along in 1981.
5. In 1914 the price of a beer at the Skydome was $7.00, today, $22.50.
6. In 2003, Canada’s last public execution took place in the Skydome. Abdul Ghafaar Ali was hung to death on charges of suspected terrorism before a sell-out crowd of 52, 000.
7. Since it opened in 1914, there have been over 600 incidents at the stadium hotel of couples having sex in plain view of thousands of fans, as well as 17 incidents of men being thrown out for masturbating at the window. The Jays have a record of 362-289 when hotel guests are caught naked or having sex.
8. Stadium seats: 50,000 seats for baseball; 52,000 for football and executions and 8,000 to 60,000 for concerts (using the SkyTent).
9. During World War II, the Skydome was used as an interment centre for Japanese-Canadians during the Blue Jays off-season.
10. Gwyneth Paltrow and Colplay lead singer Chris Martin were married in the Skydome.
At any rate, Rob officially registered to run for re-election on January 2, being the first and so far only candidate to do so. It was at this time that Rob unveiled the official campaign slogan for the October 27th election: Ford more years!
This is where the mayor and I run into a disagreement. I think it’s a bad campaign slogan and that he should have gone with one of the suggestions I made to him during one of our late night brainstorming sessions:
- EVERYTHING IS FINE
- ROB FORD: BRINGING THE NFL TO YOU
- ELITES MAKE ME PUKE
- ROB FORD: THE DARK KNIGHT
- FORD TOUGH
6. ROB FORD: FOR A BIRDLESS TORONTO
7. MOVING FORWARD AND FORDWARD.
8. GET LUCKY.
9. IN FORD WE TRUST
10. ROB FORD: A FORMULA FOR SUCCESS
11. FORDING OUR STRUGGLES TOGETHER
12. ROB FORD: WORKING FOR THE WEEKEND
13. FORD YOU!
14. ROB FORD: SHOOTING THE PAST IN THE HEAD
15. IT’S ROB’S JOB, DAMMIT!
16. A PUSSY IN EVERY POT
17. HOPEFULLY CUTTING THE WASTE/WAIST
18. FORDAPALOOZA
19. ROB FORD: TOO LEGIT TO QUIT (This one has theme music and signature campaign parachute pants)
