Like Andy Kaufman before him, Ford has the ability to create and live in the Venn Diagram overlap between the fiction circle and reality circle. Ford seems happy there, with the rest of us staring on in bewilderment, uncertain if what we’re witnessing is self-aware performance art or the Frankenstein id of some moron bully unleashed upon the world. Currently, Ford’s in the midst of what might be his masterpiece, his descent (with brother Doug and brother Randy) into Hollywood where he was rumoured to be attending the Oscar’s and is to appear on the Jimmy Kimmel show on Monday night.

Last night, while the Academy Awards were taking place, Ford was at the Kimmel party blogging fashion commentary on what the stars were wearing:

Pharrel

Look how small Pharrel is! I tell you, he never would have made the high school football team and if he dared to show up at school in that sissy outfit, we would have beat the crap out of him. I love that Robin Thicke video he’s in, though. Crazy hot.

Jennifer Lawrence

She’s a pretty girl, this one, but I have to say I’d have preferred if she passed on the Dior gown and wore that naked blue get-up she had on in the X-Men. You know what I loved about the name of that character, Mystique? Name of a stripper, and as she was always nude, it was perfect! Mystique was way hotter than any of the chicks from Avatar! Anyway, even with clothes on JLaw definitely deserves an Oscar for best boner!

Jared Leto

Okay, this guy played a sort-of-girl in a movie, so that’s why he has the long, Jesus hair, but that red bow tie? Trying WAY too hard. Why not a simple NFL tie, say a good working class team like the Cleveland Browns? That way he could make a statement, “Yeah, I might have long hair and play a rainbow in a movie, but I still like football!” and could still be an action hero or a guy who steals cars in his next movie. It’s weird what actors will do. You couldn’t pay me enough money to play a woman, even though I have tremendous respect for them and really value them as people and hope that they come out to vote and support Ford Nation on October 27^th!

Glenn Close

Has the appearance of a retired tennis player, somebody who would make you take off your ball cap when you went in her house. A real buzz kill. Looks like she’s going to a funeral, but she might be holding a flask in her left hand so maybe she’s still cool.

Lupita Nyong’o

She’s a string bean, but look at those arms! Really toned. I bet she’d make a great wide receiver or defensive back. She probably runs just as fast as hell. I’m glad that slave movie did well. Many of my voters come from slave people.  Looks like she’s wearing Prada to me.

1. Chances that an American athlete would break down a door in the Olympic Village 7-1.

I considered this bet to be easy money. We all know that athletes are competitive, and none more so than entitled, overfunded American ones who really like to get their party on. Combining this personality type with the decrepit state of Russian infrastructure and the rage associated with steroids and steroid-masking technologies, it was almost a guarantee that a door would be smashed in. I bet $700 on this, and when Johnny Quinn, an American bobsledder and ex NFL player, broke naked through his poorly functioning bathroom door in the athlete’s village, I was a winner.

Result= +$4900

2. Who would win the gold medal at men’s skeleton in Sochi?

I was on the Lisgar Collegiate Institute boys’ skeleton team in high school, and I can tell you participation in that sport is an insane death wish—you fly face-first down an ice cliff on a bladed Krazy Karpet using your toes to steer. (It should go without saying that high school was a VERY difficult time for me, a time made even more painful by the ceaseless bombardment of snowballs I endured whenever I took sliding to the track.) Gambling on this sport is like playing the lottery, as none of the martyr/athletes really has any influence on the outcome. That being said, it would have been wise to pick a Russian, as it’s common for officials to heat the track to make it slow and sluggish after the Russians have competed. However, the odds on handsome Spaniard Amber Mirambell (300-1!!) proved too enticing and I bet $500 on him for gold.

Result= – $500

3. Over/under for deaths in short-track speed skating (including relay): 7

I felt very compromised betting on this as I abhor the idea of rooting for anybody’s misfortune, but it seems clear that there would be way more than seven deaths in this sport. Honestly, I think there could be seven deaths in just one race. It’s Roller Derby with knives, practically a Slasher film. I bet $1300 on the over.

Result= – $1300

4. Olympic Sex Tape

Given that the matchmaking app Tinder was the breakout star of the Sochi games, it was speculated that it would be the first Olympics that featured a leaked sex tape.

Odds that a sex tape will surface: 3-1

Odds that the Russian men’s ice hockey team will be involved in the sex tape: 1-1

Odds that the Jamaican bobsled team will be in the sex tape: 9-1

Odds that the sex tape will be of a homosexual nature: 50-1

Odds that the sex tape will include any of the mascots from the Opening Ceremonies: 50-1

Odds that an ice-dance duo will be in the sex tape: 200-1

I bet $3000 that there will be a sex tape and placed $250 on each of the sub-options. Fingers crossed.

Result= – $4500

6. Odds that there will be a biathlon shooting accident involving a homosexual: 25-1

I could see that getting certified proof that the accident victim was an actual homosexual was going to be a bureaucratic nightmare, so I just avoided this bet altogether.

Result= Even

7. Odds that America, in the corporate form of Sports Illustrated, would attempt to upstage the Olympics by featuring Kate Upton in a bikini, floating about in a zero-gravity plane, as their feature story instead of, say, sports: 7-1

You simply cannot bet against America being America, and so I wagered $200 on the model in a zero gravity plane.

Result= + $1400.00

Total= Even

Here are a couple of book synopses that I’ve prepared for my publisher:

“Duke Miller and the mystery of the over-spiced and runny eggs.”

Duke, a young American food critic, is the sort of man who always knows where he’s going. He’s not afraid to send food back or say something that he believes about homosexuals, even if it’s not politically correct to do so. Duke, combining the brash individualism of the US with the delicate sophistication of Europe, travels the world reviewing restaurants with his constant companion, a miniature pot-bellied pig named Clipper.

In this introductory novel, Duke encounters a plate of over-spiced and runny eggs while on a trip in France, and investigates the mystery of how this happened. I do not want to give away the ending, but a flashlight plays a key role in solving the mystery!

“Duke Miller and that hostess from Montreal.”

In this transitional book, Duke investigates his romantic feelings for Audrey, an older, seductive hostess from a Montreal bistro. However, it turns out that Audrey is not really in love with Duke but just wants to secure a good review for her restaurant, something that Clipper cottons on to long before Duke. In the end, ‘Ce Coeur De Mien’ gets the review it deserves and Duke and Clipper are once again set on their happy, wandering ways.

“Duke Miller and the mystery of why the coffee tasted like jalapenos.”

Set in the exotic local of Cuba, this novel features a sub-plot of a resort worker—Freddy– who wishes to escape the terrible food and totalitarian regime of Cuba. Duke, investigating the mystery of the coffee, stumbles upon Freddy, who was being forced by a mean, tourist-hating chef to grind hot peppers into the coffee beverage served at the resort. Duke, shocked, agrees to help Freddy escape. Things go well until Duke discovers Freddy is a homosexual, at which point Duke’s morals will no longer permit him to help.

It was not UPS handing me a big box of money, as I had hoped, but a young man and a young woman, shivering and smiling. God had sent them. I rolled my eyes and gave them the “Oh, come on!” look, and then the man began to speak quickly. He handed me a flier and invited me to come to a talk at the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah’s Witnesses on the weekend.

“I’m a fag,” I said bluntly.

“Many struggle with such feelings,” said the man.

“Oh, I don’t struggle, I embrace those feelings, I embrace them hard and frequently,” I responded.

“You should come to our event, we would welcome you,” the woman quietly said.

“But you don’t welcome homosexuality in your church, do you?’ I asked.

She looked at me with dewy, hopeful eyes, “Our ministry is a ministry of hope for anyone who is seeking to serve Jehovah. Jesus loves EVERYONE, including homosexuals, lesbians and transvestites. He is the Great Healer.”

The man stepped in, “However, Scripture is clear that God intended for sexuality to remain within the boundaries of one-man, one-woman marriage, but a homosexual or lesbian relationship isn’t any more condemned by God than a heterosexual relationship outside the bonds of marriage.”

“God sure is funny about sex. Why do you think he never took a wife? I’ve always wondered about that. I’ve had my suspicions, you know? It just seems that all of his rules, especially against the gays, seems a little over-compensatory.”

“If you come to our event, all will be explained,” he said.

“Will brunch be served? 10:00 is pretty early for me on a Saturday. Also, will there be quizzes. I like quizzes. I do brain training games everyday!”

The woman piped up again, “There won’t be any quizzes, but there will be coffee and donuts.”

“I’ve got to hand it to God, he really does know how to put on a classy event. But look, Jehovah knows all and never makes a mistake, so why would he make me this way, with the feelings, the strong, strong feelings that I have and act on a couple of times everyday?”

“Science is starting to reveal that when a baby is growing in the womb, certain chemicals are released that enable the baby to discern the moods of the mother and sense whether she wants the child. This sense of alienation confuses the child which is why they move to homosexuality later in life,” the woman said.

“So, it’s the mother’s fault, of course! Now it makes sense, and look, just so you know, everybody online thinks that the Jesus on your fliers looks exactly like Kenny Loggins. It’s become a bit of an Internet meme.”

And then I closed the door.

“In this picture I was thinking about the colour of the car, how it was like the bottom of one of those above-ground swimming pools that the poor people put up in their backyards. I grew up with a real pool. We were rich. Pools are a good way of excluding people and creating pecking orders. The football guys liked to hangout at our pool, but without the pool, who knows? I was also wondering about all the sex that took place in that car. A lot, I bet.

“ In this photograph I was thinking about what it would feel like to shoot a monkey, the Ikea Monkey in particular. What was his name? Genesis? Something stupid. Anyway, ever since that monkey became a big media story I’ve been having fantasies about shooting it. Not sure why. It might be the little, gay coat that bugs me. It’s not natural that a boy monkey is dressed that way. “

“ Blow Jobs and the way that pets look at you funny when you’re having sex.”

“I don’t want to sound vain because I’m a man of the people, but I was thinking that I look good in hats. A lot of people say that you can measure a politician’s success by how natural and at ease he looks in different hats. (Don’t know what the policy is for chicks). I think a lot of my political success has to do with my ability to look good in a hat.

“ I probably should have been thinking about the owl, but I was deep in thought right there considering the works of Roman poet and philosopher Lucretious and his views on Epicurean principles and Atomism. I think that a lot of people misunderstand hedonism and I was trying to untangle that philosophical quandary and than suddenly I was like, “Oh fuck, an owl!”

As far as I can tell, Foster’s iconic status was earned for surviving childhood stardom with fewer visible scars than most. This is no small achievement, of course, but it’s not exactly an artistic one. As one friend put it, we feel protective of Foster because we will always see her as the precocious child she was in her defining role in Taxi Driver, and because of this we shelter her.

On Sunday night Foster was given a lifetime achievement award at the Golden Globes awards. (Helen Hunt, who received her fifth Golden Globe nomination this year was not) As many of you are probably aware, Foster’s speech was a weird, seemingly improvisational flight that had a polarizing effect on the audience at large. Those who instinctively shelter Foster or see in her a champion of intelligence and integrity loved it, while others saw it as a self-serving and deluded Hollywood indulgence. I would fall into the latter camp, I think.

Looking entirely healthy, beautiful and confident, she proceeded to congratulate herself on her appearance and then pretended to come out of the closet, all the while using a tone that diminished those who had previously come out of the closet as somehow self-interested or even vulgar. She then talked about how hard it was for her to lead a normal life, ignoring the possibility that it was hard for anybody to lead a normal life, made a self-important plea for privacy, and then seemed to enjoy flirting and teasing the audience by hinting at retiring from acting (what a national tragedy that would be!) — before publically and somewhat melodramatically, bringing attention to her mother’s dementia. And of course, she chose to do all this from the glittering pulpit of the Golden Globes.

She was a little mixed-up, I think, and far too fast to congratulate herself and dismiss the pedestrian efforts and realities of those who lived outside her bubble of privilege and popular acceptance. It was ironic, to say the very least, that she would choose this platform to champion Mel Gibson, her great friend, instead of pioneers within the LGBT civil rights movement. There was an angry piety to her words that suggested the megalomania of a person who saw herself as a kind of martyr. She seemed small, lonely and disconnected up there on stage, almost cruelly insulated, and it made me sad to see that celebrity had torn her so.

In the Shopper’s Drug Mart a nearly elderly woman with a walker clunked slowly along in front of me.  Very cheerfully and talking to nobody, she chattered to herself, “Oh, look at all the rubbish that’s on sale, rubbish, rubbish, rubbish!”

The line-up was customarily long and so the cashier called the cavalry. A woman, brusque in every conceivable manner, came and staffed one of the registers, announcing that the next person waiting in line should migrate over. But instead, the last person waiting in line darted over and seized the opportunity. He had all manner of sinus medication in his arms and looked sullen and sour, like somebody who just lost at the dog track. I gave him an “I Know What You Did” look, to which he responded by trying to look sicker.

Back on the street we passed the man who always calls our dog Fritz. He’s tall this man, crooked, with floppy white hair and a cane. He looks like a British genius given to saying thing that are just a moment beyond one’s grasp and as he leaned against the Tim Horton’s he tipped his cap, “Herr Fritz, a good day to you!”

A little further along was an obese man plugged into a pair of earphones. He moved slowly and erratically, as if movement was difficult and he really wasn’t very interested in what direction he was headed. When the dog and I passed him he snarled, “Get your fucking dog out of here!” “You really must miss something,” I said in response, but he did not hear me and continued in anger.

Immediately after, as if in response, we bumped into a woman who wanted to tell me about her Dachshund, Brandy. Lived to be 18. She said that they had a Cocker Spaniel, too, but Brandy, Oh, and then she put her hands to her heart and smiled, smiled, smiled.

We then passed a dog walker. Energized by something she spoke excitedly into her headset. She had thin legs and moved like a boy, like somebody who always wanted to be the quarterback during pick-up football games. She yanked at the dogs, “Come on Huckleberry, hurry up Rizzo, we’re not stopping here!” And then a woman just leaving a nursery jumped from the fifth step down onto the walkway, and as she did so she kicked out her legs like she was in a gum commercial. I could not let this unguarded moment pass, so I said, “Very athletic!” The woman kept her head down and did not respond, heading swiftly down the street to whatever joy beckoned.

“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:

*****************************************************

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.

***************************************

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!

*************************************

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!

*****************************************

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!