And although Doug shares the same bullying, impenetrable forehead and tiny, receded eyes that characterized his younger brother, he is distinct in a few ways. Primarily, he has always been seen as the steadying brains behind the operation. Always a belligerent and pitiless protector of his misunderstood, addict brother, Doug was also seen as the intellectual wind beneath Ford Nation’s wings. Doug dealt dope, while Rob used it.
That sort of thing.
At any rate, Doug Ford is now running against Liberal Kathleen Wynne to become the Premier of Ontario. He is doing better than you’d think, and seems to be riding a conservative, populist backlash that’s shivering up the spine of so many nations right now. Doug Ford, a white, affluent suburban businessman from a political dynasty, has long fashioned himself as being “For the People,” and has been making a point of courting various communities that might find more in common with his traditional values than say, Kathleen Wynne.
Who is a lady.
A lady lesbian.
A lady lesbian who is not For the People.
A lady lesbian who hates your way of life.
At any rate, one of the ways that the campaign is doing this outreach is for Doug and his family to go to a different community restaurant each month and review it. It’s part photo-up, part promotion for small business, and an opportunity for Ford to network and get his face in media. This is his first review:
Doug N’ Dash Food Reviews
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Pukka (Indian)
778 St. Clair
Toronto
I have to tell you, when I heard the name I didn’t want to go. Who wants to go to a restaurant with a name like that? Nobody, that’s who. Lazy marketing there. Imagine if my family had called Deco Labels and Tags, FIBROMYALGIA or something.
Pretty negative, pretty confusing, eh? So the first thing I would do is change the Puke name to something like: GOOD INDIAN FOOD THAT ISN’T TOO GODDAMN SPICY AND COMES AT AN AFFORDABLE PRICE.
The Indian people, so famous for their yoga, bright colours and diarrhea, aren’t stupid. No they just need somebody For The People, somebody who knows how to get the job done, to serve as a business mentor to help move them out of all the 7-11’s and into buffet style operations they can run themselves!
You will notice that Kathleen Wynne, who does not love minorities as I do, ever in a restaurant. This is because she has a finger disease in which the the skin is always peeling off. Really gross. Like a snake shedding it’s skin or something.
You watch her fingers.
You’ll see she’s hiding something.
So I had the butter chicken and the wife, who doesn’t much like the Indian food as it can give her the Aztec two-step, had something with kale in it.
You know women. Straight women.
Anyway, my chicken was good.
Not Swiss Chalet good, but good.
I’d give it a 7 out of 10.
Karla said her kale thing was good, too.
THIS RESTARAUNT IS FORD APPROVED!
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I’ve been lucky and my hard work has paid off, as in addition to my assembly line work I have been put in charge of all social media for The Box Factory. Up until now the Twitter account (@TheBoxFactory) has been used primarily as a way to establish and communicate factory culture to the employees, and while this will still be a part of our social media strategy, I hope to add an edge to our branding that will help take us to the next level.
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TheBoxFactory: BREAKING!!!! MASS SHOOTING AT THE BOX BARN!!!
TheBoxFactory: Witnesses say that boxes are covered in blood!!
TheBoxFactory: Although there are MANY disgruntled employees working at the Box Barn, Terrorism is most likely responsible!
TheBoxFactory: Authorities report that all boxes from the Box Barn are now considered potentially lethal!
TheBoxFactory: BOXES FROM THE BOX BARN CAN KILL YOU AND YOUR LOVED ONES!!
TheBoxFactory: As The Box Factory stands against terror, we are now offering a 15% savings on all of our boxes!!
TheBoxFactory: Remember, after the horrors of 9/11 boxes played a vital role in fighting against terrorism!
TheBoxFactory: Boxes, North America’s unsung hero!
TheBoxFactory: Noble Box Factorians, remember to always wash your hands! A clean Box Factory is a happy Box Factory!
TheBoxFactory: To take your mind off the horrors taking place over at the BOX BARN, here’s a vintage Gift Box classic: https://vimeo.com/148932620
TheBoxBarn: @TheBoxFactory There has been no shooting at the Box Barn!! Everything is fine and our boxes are still the best in town!
TheBoxFactory: There goes the “Lyin’ Box Barn” again! Sad.
TheBoxFactory: Blocked.
TheBoxFactory: HACKED EMAIL FROM THE BOX BARN REVEALS IT IS A FRONT FOR A SEX SLAVERY RING!!
TheBoxFactory: 13 YEAR-OLD GIRL SAYS THE BOX BARN FORCED HER TO LIVE IN A SHODDILY MADE BOX AND HAVE SEX WITH OOZY MANAGEMENT!!
TheBoxFactory: Take our fun quiz and answer five easy questions to determine what kind of box you would be!!
TheBoxFactory: MASS SHOOTING NOW REPORTED AT BOX BONANZA! AUTHORITIES BELIEVE IT’S A COORDINATED TERRORIST ATTACK!!!
TheBoxFactory: Remember, The Box Factory is offering up to 15% off selected boxes for all customers effected by terror!!
TheBoxBonanza: @TheBoxFactory There has been no shooting here! You are lying!! You can’t do this!!
TheBoxFactory: Ha! There goes “Crooked Box Bonanza” again! So dishonest!
TheBoxFactory: The “Crooked Box Bonanza” is the real dick in a box!
TheBoxFactory: Love blocking trolls like “Crooked Box Bonanza” and “Lying Box Barn!” Such losers!
TheBoxFactory: The Box Factory condemns terror in all forms! NEVER will one of our boxes be involved in a terror attack!!
TheBoxFactory: The “Freedom Box Factory” only employs “real” North Americans like Billy, and can terminate any of them at a moment’s notice! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKmcs7ygJbs
TheBoxFactory: The “Freedom Box Factory,” making Boxes Great Again!
]]>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aki6xZCo0Fw
At first this incident was attributed to overheating and dehydration, but this was later revised, the cause falling on a mild case of pneumonia. Whether the initial concealment of this was a simple matter of obscurant political reflex, or if the pneumonia is actually a symptom of a more sinister, underlying condition as many are speculating, is unknown. What is known is that illness, be it mild or grave, is not at all uncommon amidst people around 70 who are subject to inconceivable stress and an insane work schedule. Legions of Presidents have suffered aliments, and this is a short list of some of them:
Lyndon B Johnson had the Dropsy.
Martin Van Buren, after being prescribed laudanum for the pain associated with his gout, became an opium addict. This is an excerpt from Van Buren’s diary:
“ …Men of genius move in orbits of their own; and seem deprived of that free will which permits the mere man of talent steadily to pursue the beaten path. Van Buren was made to soar and not to creep. I should much wish, like the Indian Vishna, to float about along an infinite ocean cradled in the flower of the Lotos, & wake once in a million years for a few minutes – just to know that I was going to sleep a million years more.”
George H W Bush suffered from Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome, which is characterized by episodes of severe vomiting that have no apparent cause. Episodes can last for hours or days and alternate with relatively symptom-free periods of time.
Whenever Bush visited Japan, he threw-up almost constantly.
Zachary Taylor suffered from Crop Sickness, a condition that made him unusually cruel to his slaves and eventually killed him.
FDR had Polio and was confined to a wheelchair. The press even colluded with him in attempts to portray him in ways that did not directly associate him with a wheelchair.
Josiah Bartlett suffered from Multiple Sclerosis, but in spite of that is still considered the greatest orator of all the American Presidents.
George W Bush, while on a bombing mission over Hanoi in October 1967, was shot down, seriously injured, and captured by the North Vietnamese. Although Bush was able to charm his way to freedom, his injuries caused him lifelong physical limitations. Art therapy has been a large part of Bush’s continued recovery.
Jimmy Carter was abducted by an alien spacecraft in 1973, thoroughly examined, and then released. He has suffered Night Terrors ever since, and is now obsessed with creating crop circles.
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It’s just not quality.
Melania is posing naked for a classy magazine.
I’m really happy about this because I want everybody to see what I have and they don’t, so I’m at the photo shoot making sure everything goes Trump perfect. I’m giving Melania instructions on how to pose, and as she’s doing exactly what I tell her to do, I try to Tweet a picture with the words,“Twice with this one last night!” but discover I can’t get into my Twitter account, @realDonaldTrump.
I am building a wall. It’s a great wall, a huge wall. It’s going to be the best wall ever. And then somebody, A Mexican, approaches me and tells me that there are scuff marks on some of the imported marble. A Mexican. What does a Mexican know about imported marble? Nothing. Enraged, I pummel him with the might of an angry white nation, and when I’m finished I’m covered in Mexican blood, which is just disgusting. I try to wash it off but can’t, and the more people I hire to wash it off, the thicker and stickier it seems to get.
I am in the penthouse of one of my many, many luxury apartments. I’m there to evict the deadbeat tenants by forcing them to jump off the balcony. One of them refuses. I wake up in a cold sweat.
I am waterboarding Ted Cruz’s wife because she won’t change her last name to something American.
In spite of her pain and terror and screaming and begging, and that her top was so wet it was completely see-thru, the experience was not nearly as sexually exciting as I had expected it to be. Woke up feeling empty, a sensation that trailed me all day long.
I am Captain of the Starship Enterprise.
I’ve rented out three decks as luxury condos, converted the Holodeck into a casino, crushed the Starfleet union and am running a real estate training program for my promising officers. Federation mismanagement had been costing the tax payers a fortune, but with me at the helm, the Starship Enterprise was making a fantastic profit and had never looked better. And then we’re doing a routine patrol of Quadrant 4 when a Klingon Bird of Prey suddenly materialized before us. As I was negotiating with their Captain, I noticed a stain on my uniform. Laundry had screwed up again!
In this dream I am a boy, lost and alone in the woods with no business plan.
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adding that he, too, just like a Regular Joe, enjoyed watching the life-simulations depicted on television programs. It was as if some rudimentary form of Artificial Intelligence, one that existed in a strange human-like form that for all it’s advanced technology just couldn’t get the hair right, was trying to prove its humanity to a skeptical public. It was so clumsy it was almost sweet– like a grandparent saying YOLO in the wrong context.
However, the truly funny thing about this pronouncement was that nobody, not a single politician from any party, had ever suggested that they had a plan to tax Netflix. With this, it seemed that the Conservative strategy was laid bare—they were going to announce a really horrible, really unpopular idea every week, and then assure the public that they would fight tooth and nail against such an appalling idea. This tactic would confuse the public, who would mistakenly think that the combative stance assumed by the Conservatives meant that one of the other political parties had actually proposed the idea and that taxing Netflix would be essential to their governance.
Out of nothing, something– it was the conjuring of a perfectly evil plan.
In keeping with this theme, the next thing that Harper announced was also incredibly weird, only on this occasion instead of lining himself up in opposition to the weirdness, he was trying to initiate it. Stephen Harper suggested banning Canadians from traveling to terrorist-controlled countries. The idea behind this would be preemptive, serving to stop young, naive, would-be-jihadists from traveling to Syria, being trained by their dark forces, and then sent back, with ISIS flags now sown on their backpacks, to destroy the homeland.
This notion, crazy, paranoiac, wholly against the Charter and impossible to implement, seemed positively Trumpian in its blunt vulgarity. However, the point was never to impose such absurdity on the population, but to get the other parties to argue against it, thus making them look soft on terror.
It’s PSYOP’s, really, with the ruling government attempting to spread disinformation and confusion in an attempt to manipulate the mood of the electorate so that they’re not actually voting based on information, but on a “gut-feeling.” People will “feel” like the NDP want to tax Netflix simply because Harper said he was against doing such a thing, and after all, the NDP tax everything anyway, right? Likewise, people’s fears that the Liberals are soft on terror (Trudeau’s always getting his picture taken with Muslims!)
will only be reinforced, because now the Liberals have to argue that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with traveling to a country that most people associate only with blood-thirsty terrorists.
Harper’s strategy is to set off smoke bombs.
He’s not interested in persuading people with his inventive policy, but in sowing uncertainty and even fear, so that the undecided and those who don’t follow politics all that closely, the people who don’t really know what’s going on (because Harper has set about creating this bewildering cloud of Orwellian uncertainty and double-talk) will take the path of least resistance and opt for “stability” and maintaining the status quo.
In a nutshell, it’s everything that’s wrong with politics.
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He’s receded from public life and many have been wondering what he’s been doing. As it turns out, one of the things he’s been doing is applying to attend an Icelandic Writer’s Retreat in April. The application required that you write a short story or essay based on the following photograph of the Harpa Concert Hall and Conference Center:
This is Doug Ford’s entry:
Sometimes a guy can go to a pretty black place. That can happen after you lose an election. When your whole life has been about winning, and winning hard, losing feels like a sucker punch to the gut. Not even football or pornography or yelling at people can fill the hole. Sometimes a guy has to go to therapy.
Therapy is for the weak, and Ron Ice, a very successful businessman and philanthropist, was not a weak man. He was a powerful man, a man who was a shot put champion at his high school.
Girls used to gather around to watch him throw the shot put. Ron was like a Nordic god and he did very well with the ladies, thank you very much. Those were good times for Ron, but now, with all the critics and small people yammering away at him after the election, all the people who don’t understand how to run a business, he realized he needed to clear his head, even if it was the weak thing to do.
Ron looked deep into his soul and realized that he wanted to broaden his horizons.
Iceland.
Iceland was the territory that Ron always started in when he was playing Risk.
It had access to markets in both the east and west, had plenty of challenging terrain to hide in and there was little pollution. Ron would move to Iceland and start his empire there!
People loved Doug Ford in Iceland. He stood a good six inches taller than the rest of the population, and as he still looked like a Nordic god, people began to worship him, “Look!” the villagers would cry, “The prophecy is true and the Ice King now walks amongst us! Ron Ice took the country by goddamn storm.
One day ISIS terrorists took over the Harpa Concert Hall and Conference Center where they planned to burn Christians in cages. Ron Ice would have none of that. Ron drove down there in his jeep, got out and just walked into the place. People were in awe of what big balls he had. When the terrorists saw him they all started yelling and getting excited in that language of theirs. They waved machine guns around, but Ron was as cool as ice.
He just stared at them, a penetrating hate stare, and then he began to yell, his mighty eyes bulging, and when he did they all put down their weapons like subservient kittens and were arrested.
Ron Ice walked out of there, got back in his jeep and drove up to the misty green hills of Norðurland vestra, where he had some property and a condo, and from where he would soon launch his internationally successful printing business Ice King Labels and Tags.
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Here are some other celebrity endorsements that Rob Ford has recently received:
“Rob Ford and I see eye to eye on many issues, and let me tell you, there is nobody on the planet who is bigger supporter of the NFL than that man. Toronto deserves a team, and I would proudly wear their colours once my suspension is up.”
–Ray Rice, suspended Baltimore Ravens running back
“Send Rob Ford all your pitiful candidates for mayor, he will humiliate them everywhere, and God willing, he will raise the flag of Ford Nation over Toronto!
–ISIS leader and press officer
“The man knows quality and understands both the free market and the threat of the Chinese. I wish that there were two of him so that one could be mayor of New York City.”
–Donald Trump, real estate agent and Twitter user
“A stand-up guy who never sold fakes. If you got a celebrity nude from Rob Ford, you knew it was the real deal.”
–Originalguy, screen name of the person responsible for the celebrity nude leaks on 4Chan
“Ford is tough on crime because he really understands crime. He knows what it’s like to be on the front lines. That’s the kind of man you want leading your city. I endorse Rob Ford for mayor of Toronto.”
–Darren Wilson, Ferguson police officer
“Nobody cares more about black people than Rob Ford. He is a visionary and he should know that a cross on his chest drawn in oil will protect him from all enemies.”
–Joseph Kony, leader of the Lord’s Resistance Army
“When I pass a flowering zucchini plant in a garden, my heart skips a beat. Rob Ford is Toronto’s flowering zucchini plant. He is a treasure.”
–Gwyneth Paltrow
While out for a run on Canada Day, Joe Killoran came across Toronto Mayor Rob Ford (fresh from an apparently combative two month stint in rehab) and his entourage stomping about Toronto looking for votes. Killoran, who looks a little bit like Zeus or one of those Spartans in the movie 300, began, in an admirably articulate state of rage, to scream at Ford. “Yes,” we collectively said, “these are my words manifest in the pleasing form of a man!” The Ford brothers, normally masters of physical intimidation and the death stare, shrivelled up in Killoran’s presence.
Killoran, stripped to the waist, looked like the truth. Radiating a masculine power that seemed fueled by the archetypes of the 1970’s, Killoran was our single-combat hero. He was what we wanted to see in the mirror, saying what we wanted to say. In short, he was the ideal proxy, and Rob Ford, the actual proxy of Toronto, was it’s pale and receding antithesis.
The irony is that Rob Ford’s narrative positions the Mayor as Toronto’s Everyman. He’s just a regular Joe, a guy who likes helping out the common folk, hates the high-minded, mocking elites and struggles with the same sort of demons that we all do at the end of hard-working day. Ambushed so vividly by an actual regular Joe, the myth was laid bare. Ford, the man who stakes his brand on his ability to connect, his ability to be real, man, was a paper tiger, a bully stripped raw by the confrontation that stood unblinking before him.
It was an entirely awesome and revealing moment, so naturally it’s been co-opted and ruined. Inspired by Killoran, a handful of protestors who look like some agitated soccer dads yelling at the ref from the sidelines, have taken to calling themselves The Shirtless Horde.
One of them, after unconvincingly shouting, “I’m not intimidated by you!” at Rob Ford’s sobriety coach, was actually kicked by him, in the shin, I think. It’s exactly the sort of thing you remember taking place at recess, and as much as I might want to imagine myself the Shirtless Jogger, I do not want to imagine myself a member of The Shirtless Horde.
Even worse than showing us what we really look, The Shirtless Horde has the distinction of reinstalling the Ford myth. Surrounded by their limp chants, Ford puffs up– like he’s just eaten some spinach– and once again projects the confidence of a man who believes the script that he’s just here to bring some sense and fiscal restraint to a downtown that’s spun wildly, indulgently out of control, and this, this will be an exhausting way for us to spend the rest of our summer, so Shirtless Horde, please stop, your work is done.
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1. ROCK THE VOTE!!
In an effort to help remind Torontonians that it’s their duty to vote in the upcoming city election on October 27th, CondomTO would put out a series of prophylactics featuring various City Councilors and Mayoral candidates. Personalities should include:
Rob Ford
David Soknacki
Doug Ford
Karen Stintz
Olivia Chow
Sarah Thomson
- TORONTO: PROUD OF OUR WILDLIFE!!
This series of condoms would feature some of the urban wildlife that makes Toronto such a distinctive blend between big-city cosmopolitanism and natural green space, also serving as a reminder that animals are our neighbours and partners in city living! Creatures that should be considered for inclusion:
Pigeon
Raccoon
Small dog (As so many Torontonians are apartment dwellers, the city has a preponderance of small dog breeds such as Dachshund, Pug, Yorkshire Terrier, etcetera)
Rat
Squirrel
Bed Bugs
- CELEBRATE JURASSIC PARK!!
In honour of the Toronto Raptors basketball team’s great run into the playoffs, CondomTO would feature some of the star personalities involved with the team! Suggestions include:
Amir Johnson
The Raptor (Mascot)
Jonas Valanciunas
Kyle Lowry
Drake (Ambassador of team)
Nav Bhatia (Superfan)
As many of you know, Rob and I were enrolled at Carleton University in Ottawa at the same time, and it was at a local pub—Tiddlers—where we became last call drinking acquaintances. We’ve stayed in a weird contact over the years, frequently messaging one another when up late and partying alone. This is my most recent correspondence with the mayor, which took place sometime after two in the morning on Wednesday.
Rob: FORD NATION KNOCKING!!!
Me: Rob!!
Rob: BRAIN ON FIRE! All sorts of ideas!! Need quick feedback!!
Me: You always make me feel like I’m on a game show, love it!
Rob: The Quebec charter of values thing, you know, where the French people say you’re not allowed to wear the jew hat and stuff? I like it.
Me: If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything!
Rob: Damn straight! I’m free market, not going to tell people what they can’t do, but if you live in Ford Nation, you’re going to have to walk the walk, get it? If you have to be a weirdo and ride a bicycle, then you have to wear an Argo’s jersey when you do it.
Me: It’s brilliant, Rob, it can’t miss! What happens if you’re culturally un-Ford Nation and exploit a public resource like a library?
Rob: You got to see Iron Man III and eat a Cronut burger.
Me: And then wear the t-shirt, “ I survived the Cronut Burger! Ford For Mayor 2014!”
Rob: Yeah!! Ford Nation: Not as diverse as you’d think.
Me: How about, Ford Nation: Strength in Unity?
Rob: Love it!!! Man, you really GET the heart of Ford Nation! I miss having these late night jam sessions in person!
Me: Me, too, big guy, me, too.
Rob: Know what else I miss?
Me: Tiddlers!
Rob: Tiddlers RULZ!!!!! But dude, I miss Frosh Week. I could fucken live in Frosh Week. I would take my vacations there if I could. Fuck Florida!!
Me: Frosh Week was awesome. But look, what happens to vegans? They’re not Ford Nation at all.
Rob: If you want to be vegan and live in Ford Nation, then you have to be a stripper once a week, too. Don’t care about their religion. Chicks only, tho.
Me: What if somebody isn’t a man of the people? You know, not the type to go to visit people in public housing and put campaign stickers on their door frames?
Rob: Oh! Just got another idea!
Me: Great!
Rob: My fantasy hockey team?
Me: Yeah?
Rob: Gonna call it, Everybody’s Twerking For The Weekend! After the Loverboy song!
Me: Genius.
Rob: Honest, I think it’s the best thing I ever thought of.
Me: Me, too.
Rob: Hey, you see those pictures of that bear chasing the bison down the highway?
Me: Yeah.
Rob: You the bear or the bison?
Me: Not sure. You?
Rob: Both, little buddy, both.
