Scourge and Transparency

The Rise and Fall of Advanced Social Journalism during the Early Twenty-First Century

Archive for May 2010

The Way Of The Road

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Today we’re going to talk about last weekend…that’s right, last weekend. Victoria Day or “May 2-4” to the laypeople. It’s a holiday in Canada that falls on the third Monday of May. I believe Americans (according to a bi-national calendar sitting next to me from Parsons Welding Services LTD) celebrate Memorial Day the following weekend. Say what you want about our neighbours to the south but they know how to consume horrible and enjoyable items. US citizens get a statutory holiday every month. They can spend those long weekends drinking cheap beer, eating pre-made PB & J sandwiches; getting fat on the American Dream. While the USA is an easy target for critiques of social arrogance and ignorance alike, Canadians especially are particularly jealous of the American consumerist way of life and the span & availability of their market place.

I digress…I was speaking of the weekend previously. Most of us spend this holiday at the cottage getting loaded, wondering why it doesn’t always fall on the 24th or who in the hell this “Victoria” is, at the same time cursing the almost guaranteed horribly rainy weather that compliments the weekend yearly (although in certain parts of Ontario it was mostly dry Friday through Monday – almost even too hot for my liking). I myself did not make a trip to a family cottage or a nearby campground. I did, however, embark on a voyage and weekend of questionable certainty, debatable excitement, controversial ingestion and excessive sloth.

This past weekend I took the 7 hour plus Greyhound Bus trip from my mother’s borderline circus of a home in Hamilton (where I’ve been temporarily held up for the past month) to my sparsely furnished student apartment in downtown Ottawa. There was no accurate or obvious purpose to spend three nights in my empty, small, basement residence. I was scheduled to return to work near The Hammer the following week, I did not need to pick up any items of essential importance I had left at my place, I would to have purchase hot food because my refrigerator consisted mostly of rotting apples, stale juice and processed cheese slices, furthermore it would cost me about $100 for a round trip ticket plus entertainment (which I could scarcely afford with one paycheck to my name in the past 8 months). However I felt I needed to go down that road, sit on my used fake-leather coaches and seriously vegetate. I had no desirable plans to catch up with vague acquaintances from university or get drunk in local bars. Something simply compelled me to make that voyage – the door to the life I had abruptly and unexpectedly closed weeks early had to be re-opened and let air out.

I decided to take this sabbatical with a partner in crime. Smoking dope and getting drunk can only reach a certain level when a solo attempt is made. My accomplice and I were initially horrified that we may have to experience first-hand the oppression of civil liberties that is the prohibition of cannabis in this country. Thankfully the phrase “who you know” does not only apply to employment but also to drug use.

We hit the road with a little less weed than I thought was ideal. On the other hand alcohol would likely be limitless and we carried two mickeys of hard liquor on the bus (because of a text message miscommunication each of us thought we were in charge of bus-booze). The ride was long, dark and hot. I’ve now learned the hard way that most AC units on Greyhounds don’t reach the seats at the back – I can now imagine the Freedom Rides in the Deep South being even more uncomfortable than documented.  A young idealistic graduate student sat in front of us and chimed in on our conversation every so often with useless and arbitrary remarks. He offered to kick a sesh with us at the single rest stop somewhere outside Kingston. We purposely did not mention our stash and instead offered him a swig of CC in exchange for the half a joint he toked us.

The bus driver looked like the type of person that attended WWF fights in the 1980’s. The mustached Greyhound employee entertained us with stories of riots, graphic murder and intense repetition that accompany the trade. He shot the shit with us while we were slightly high and had consumed half our travel-alcohol. We stood in the light, cool rain and kept all the passengers on the bus waiting well past the 15 minutes allotted to the rest stop. The four of us discussed the current world economic situation and the popular, although censored, tragedy of a crazed lunatic on a Greyhound through Manitoba that stabbed, killed and partially cannibalized a fellow passenger while the rest of the travelers watched horrified from the side of the highway. The bloody and unquestionably evil catastrophe had lasted over three hours and the perpetrator was not held lawfully responsible for his actions because he was deemed to be clinically insane. It’s odd that someone could be of such an unsound mind to do that to a fellow human being but still be able to withstand the clusterfuck and disorganization that is a bus terminal.

We arrived in the 6-1-3 later than scheduled but sooner than we had anticipated. Bus travel is not a good thing and this fact cannot be ignored. It’ll take you 10 hours to get somewhere that would take less than 1 if you were on a plane. And it takes the same amount of time as driving on your own except you can’t choose when to stop, you’re with mostly strangers, you’re cramped – you actually have very little control over your own environment – and you won’t end up directly at your destination. A long trip on a bus is undoubtedly an exercise in human perseverance and mental strain. It is one of the few instances when alcohol is logically helpful. Lawrence of Arabia once said, “to not mind the pain.” You’d have to be a Buddhist Monk to not mind being on a non air-conditioned bus for 8 hours with the seating at full capacity. The key is to be somewhat like Tyler Durden when you’re on a long voyage like this.  Accept your fait: this is not a comfortable situation to be in for an excessive period of time. However don’t indulge in it too much – thinking outrageously about your surroundings on a trip like this can get someone’s head cut off (too soon?). Let the liquor put you in a light trance, keep hydrated, dress comfortable, think of your destination and don’t lose control till your bags touch the floor of your suite.

When we entered my stale-smelling apartment (the windows and doors had been locked shut for weeks, there was garbage left under the sink and water still in my bong) it was 2:30 am Saturday morning. I threw a six-pack of Bavaria I had put in my oversized undercarriage bag in the freezer and packed a bowl. It was at this moment I realized my Rogers Digital Cable Box had gone on the fritz sometime in the past month. I was too tired to fuck around with it or even look for a suitable movie to watch. I simply pressed play on the DVD player and put what was left of my energy into the immediate and indefinite consumption of dope and booze. What was last viewed through the player was a ripped copy of Season 1 of if not the most sensational & outlandish sitcom in modern syndicated television history it was certainly the best thing to come out of Canada in a generation. “The Show Case Original Series: Trailer Park Boys….”

How to add inches to your dick

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Today we’re going to talk about penis size, that’s right, penis size. All heterosexual homophobic men and boys know that the key to a woman’s heart and vagina is a huge, circumcised member. However, we’re not all blessed and born with sufficiently large dicks. But don’t go gay just yet – you’re dick can get bigger with just a little bit of effort and some overly masculine ambition.  I’m going to advise all you straight men out there on obvious ways to lengthen your penis through completely superficial means.

Firstly, a number of masculine males have told me that you need to do many manly things to prove that you’re not a gay and help grow your genitals. I’ll admit: I’ve been caught, on occasion, drinking a light beer – this is a no-no apparently. Even the one percent decrease in alcohol level from regular to light beer goes a long way in the size of one’s penis. Thankfully I drink hard liquor straight, thus with the 40 percent volume in those drinks I can make up for the centimetres lost from drinking a pussy drink like “Pabst or Coors Light”(I eagerly await the enthusiastic shitting-on of both these products via the comments section).  Consequently one can only logically conclude that anything with less than 5 percent alcohol in it would shrink one’s dick – this would include any type of non-alcoholic beverage such as tap water or juice (however it is save to assume that guys who consume protein drinks before working-out have huge cocks – just look at how big those powder jars are).

If you’re interested in increasing the girth or length of your penis even further take note of men that show off their masculinity through the cars they drive. A good idea would be to buy a shitty Honda Civic, put a bunch of stupid crap on it, make sure the bottom of the car almost touches the ground and play through a subpar stereo system really repetitive annoying club music unnecessarily loud with the bass turned up so high that it is impossible to hear anything but the vibrations of the beat. This will add at least one half to three quarters of an inch to the length of your cock. If you can afford a better car than a $1,000 used Civic get a gas guzzling truck or SUV – it doesn’t matter that you live in your mom’s basement in the suburbs and will get no use out of the cargo area or off-roading capabilities, the waste of space as well as money lost on gas will be made up for in the increased weight of your balls. You’ll need the extra legroom for those impressively large genitals when you’re backing the car out of the driveway to let your mom park in the garage.

Now, if you’re still not content with the measurement of your fully erect penis (and honestly, no one ever is) modify your wardrobe unnecessarily and uncomfortably. What’s important is that you look like you have a big dick; you’re probably not going to get laid anyways so actual girth or length is irrelevant. Just try to appear cool regardless of how ridiculous you look. Spend hundreds of dollars on tracksuits that your favourite rapper wore in a music video, buy sunglasses that are at least four times more costly than other brands but equally as capable of blocking out the sun (remember to wear the sunglasses indoors as well to give your dick that extra edge), clothing should be tight-fitting to showcase any pathetic attempt at muscle, in the winter (like sunglasses) wear scarves indoors, and most importantly when you purchase a baseball cap remember to leave the sales sticker attached for eternity and do not bend the brim in the least – this will guarantee a penis large enough to satisfy your inflated or quite possibly completely hollow ego.

I hope these few points have been helpful to you and if you’ve taken any of this seriously the joke’s on you – fags like big dicks too.