The Real Johnson

I'm Lazy, You Still Can't Trust Sean Bean

2012-01-22T18:28:00.000-05:00

In case the fact that the same fake news story about Jay Z and Beyonce's baby has been sitting up for so long didn't fill you in, I've been a little too busy to blog lately. In addition to my job and some comedy-related stuff, I've been doing some blogging elsewhere for money (pennies, but still) and I've been trying to get back to the gym, too. On top of all that, I've of course got my usual commitment to functional alcoholism.

Long story short, I've been neglecting this website and I want you to know, it's not you, it's me.
I've tried a few times to get guest contributors so that situations like this don't happen so often, but it never really pans out. However, I'll try again. If you're interested or have a rant to get off your chest or anything, click the "submit something" tab on the header and let me know. If you're a blogger too it might be an interesting way to get some new readers checking out what you have to say. I'd love to have some other points of view on here once in a while. And if you want, someday I can return the favour and write something for your blog.

Anyway, in the interest of giving you something to read, below I've reposted a "classic" post that was up two years ago today (roughly). It was the first in a series about things Hollywood has ruined and it seems to have stood the test of time. Sean Bean is still a greasy bastard, so consider this a sort of public service announcement to any of my readers who weren't around two years ago.

New content is coming, someday. Thanks for hanging in you beautiful sons of bitches.

Things Hollywood Has Ruined: My Ability to Trust Sean Bean
Part one of an ongoing series, “Things Hollywood Has Ruined”

If Hollywood has taught me anything it’s this: You can never trust Sean Bean.

006

As Alec Trevalyan (AKA 006) in Goldeneye, Bean betrayed MI6 and his old friend James Bond. During a mission to blow up the Arkhangelsk chemical weapons facility in the Soviet Union, 006 was apparently killed by Colonel Ourumov.

Later it is revealed that not only was his death, of course, faked, but he had been working with Ourumov (now a general) the whole time. On top of that, he is also none other than Janus himself, head of the famed Janus Crime Syndicate.

To be fair, Trevalyan had a major grudge with England. His family were Lienz Cossacks repatriated to the USSR by the British during WWII and, while they were spared execution at the hands of the Nazis, Trevalyan’s family still died when his father, out of guilt for living, killed 006’s mom and then himself.

Tough childhood for sure. But still, using the Goldeneye satellite to destroy London? Not cool, man.

Boromir

As Boromir in The Lord of TheRings, Bean openly questioned the Council of Elrond, as well as the wisdom of Gandalf. Boromir thought that the ring would do more good in Gondor, protecting the realm from the power of Mordor. And, while he seemed to listen to reason when he was told about the corrupting power of the ring and so agreed to join the Fellowship, you could totally tell this guy always had his own fucking agenda.

I mean, come on. The guy was constantly up Frodo’s ass about taking the ring to Minas Tirith. You could tell he just wanted to run the show. He wasn’t having any of Aragorn bossing him around and he’d bitch about Gandalf’s decisions any chance he got. You knew he was going to try to snag that ring.

Of course he did; finally getting sick of trying to convince Frodo to give it to him, he attacked the hobbit, causing Frodo to wear the ring in order to flee, and setting off the events that eventually broke up the fellowship and ultimately led to Boromir’s own death.

I supposed, yes, in Boromir's defence, he just wanted the ring to defend against Mordor and that’s kind of noble. And yes, he also, arguably, redeemed himself, bitterly defending Merry and Pippen against the orcs and fighting to his death. But the guy was still power hungry. And a bit of a weasel. Badass warrior, yes, but weasely.

Sean Miller

The leader of the Ulster Liberation Army (ULA), a breakaway faction of the IRA in the movie Patriot Games, Bean’s “Sean Miller” is about as slimy as they come.

Sure, he watched Jack Ryan kill his brother in the opening scenes, but come on, you’ve got to expect a few casualties when you’re fronting a terrorist organization hell bent on murdering British Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, Lord William Holmes.

Besides, career CIA employee Ryan is a company man to the bone. Of course he’s going to step in when he sees trouble, even if he is vacationing with his family.

But no, Miller becomes obsessed with getting revenge, busting out of police custody and travelling to the US just to mess with Jack Ryan’s family. Bad move by the way. Because guess who just got back in the CIA? That’s right, Jack Ryan.

Miller becomes so intent on killing Ryan that he even gives up an opportunity to kill Lord Holmes and murders his own men just to pursue Ryan.

Narrow-minded much here, Sean? You’re supposed to be running the ULA, not chasing down semi-retired suburban white Americans. Can’t you think about any one but yourself?

Spence

While it’s difficult to imagine anyone pulling a fast one on the ultimate badass, Sam, played by Robert DeNiro, the weasely Bean is perhaps at his weaseliest as Spence in Ronin.

Suspicions arise when, buying the supplies they’ll need to steal the case, the tough-talking Spence needs to pull over in order to puke. DeNiro and Jean Reno’s reactions are classic. You can almost hear them thinking, “What a pussy.”

DeNiro, of course, later confirms everyone’s suspicions by memorably ambushing Spence with a cup of coffee. To be fair to Sean Bean, if DeNiro was in my face barking, “Draw it again. Draw it again. You're the ace field man, draw it again. It's a simple diagram, just draw it again. Draw what you say! Draw it again! Draw it again!!” I’d probably clam up, too.

Note to self: There is no boathouse at Hereford.

Sorry Sean Bean, but I've learned my lesson. If a character in a movie is being played by you, I'm just waiting for that guy to double cross somebody. I know he's hiding something. And frankly, if you've been typecast as a sleazy, untrustworthy guy, it's probably for a reason. So I doubt we could be friends in real life. No offence. Have a nice life.

Blue Ivy Carter is Born, Announces Record Deal

2012-01-11T14:20:00.001-05:00

Just days after announcing the birth of their child, Blue Ivy Carter, on Saturday January 7th, new parents Jay-Z and Beyoncé Knowles have announced that their daughter has signed an exclusive recording contract with dad's record label Roc-A-Fella Records.

Ivy Carter will release six albums between now and the time she turns 14 and will net an estimated $100 million for the deal she inked shortly after her umbilical cord was cut.Mom and baby are reportedly doing well at home and Blue Ivy Carter is reportedly looking forward to getting into the studio as soon as possible, even hinting that heavy hitters like Kanye West and Lil Wayne are already slated to appear in guest spots on her upcoming debut album.

Blue Ivory Carter's first album, tentatively titled "Just Born" is expected be pre-sold on iTunes in a manner similar to Kanye West and Jay-Z's most recent collaboration, "Watch The Throne," and Beyoncé says that Blue Ivy will likely embark on an international tour to promote the album, provided there are no unforeseen complications like diaper rash or colic.

Jay-Z and Beyoncé also suggested that Blue Ivy Carter is actively seeking endorsement offers with an eye toward diversifying her talents beyond the music industry, but her parents have cautioned her not too get to far ahead of herself.

WINNER: The Real Johnson Caption Contest

2012-01-10T07:00:00.000-05:00

Congratulations to the winner of the most recent Caption Contest, BeckEye.

BeckEye, you are now entitled to proudly display the badge below on your own blog, as your facebook profile picture or even, as one incarcerated fan did, carve it into the wall of your cell with a crudely made shank.

I'm not pandering to my fantastically funny (and well endowed) readers when I say that this was actually a difficult decision. There were some damn funny entries this time around.

You're all fantasitc!

But some are more fantastic than others. Congratulations BeckEye. You've joined an elite club today and are now a Real Johnson Caption Master.

Despite a valiant attempt, "2 Guys, 2 Cups"

never became a viral sensation.

Original post after the jump.

It is time once again to prove that Real Johnson readers are the funniest people in the blogosphere. Way funnier than those stiffs that read Parallel Polity, that's for sure.

Think you've got what it takes to be crowned the holiday edition Real Johnson Caption Master?

Submit a caption to this picture of dudes having a rad time and, if you're the funniest, you'll be legally entitled to post this Caption Master badge to your own blog, to your facebook profile or, as one particularly pro-petroglyph fan did, carve the image into the side of a mountain.

So now there's only one thing left to ask...

What the heck is going on here?

Dead Mouse Found in Mountain Dew isn't The Grossest Thing About Mountain Dew

2012-01-05T08:42:00.000-05:00

So yesterday I stumbled upon this little this item in the Toronto Star and just had to share.

Essentially, a man is suing Pepsi because he walked up to a pop machine, bought a Mountain Dew, took a sip and then became violently ill because, he says, there was a dead mouse in the can.

I'll give you minute to finish dry heaving.

He then says that he let Pepsi know about the situation but wasn't going to sue until it became clear that Pepsi thought he was lying.

First, before we move on, let's just acknowledge that every human on earth would sue in this situation. Not only would the obvious disgustingness of having just drunk liquid with an animal corpse immersed in it cause one to immediately think of nothing other than revenge, but it would take about four seconds before you realized that one of the world's largest corporations was now liable for you having become ill.

Far from being the stomach-turning traumatic scenario this at first seems to be, it's actually more like a dream scenario. I have literally, on multiple occasions, day-dreamed that I will one day find a mouse in my pop can--or a thumb, hell even a syringe-- simply so that I might sue the massive soda corporation responsible and cash in.

I don't think I'm alone here. I mean who doesn't spend a small portion of each day fantasizing about scenarios wherein one gets filthy rich by virtue of having done absolutely nothing at all? Shit, I'd eat an entire dead mouse and puke for a full day if it meant I didn't have to work for a year or two.

Anyway, that's not really the most interesting part of the story. The interesting part is Pepsi's defense.

Step-by-step details of exactly how Mountain Dew would dissolve a dead mouse are Pepsi’s defence against a lawsuit by a man who claims he found a rodent in his can of pop.

Yes. That's right.

Pepsi says the man's claims are false because Mountain Dew, that delicious fluorescent green liquid, would dissolve a mouse's tissues, organs, and bones into a "jelly like substance."

So just to summarize their defense: "No, that mouse couldn't have been in the can since the canning process because our disgusting, acidic, corrosive liquid--which we market as a thirst quencher--would have dissolved an animal's entire body (with the possible exception of part of its tail) in a shorter time-frame than it would have taken for that can to get to the pop machine from which the man purchased the liquid."

So please, everyone, settle down, ignore the claims of the dead mouse, and continue to drink Mountain Dew.

Image is nothing. Thirst is everything. Obey your thirst.

Overheard: Christmas Train Edition

2012-01-01T13:57:00.001-05:00

If you're ever travelling within Canada, and you have the opportunity to do so on a train, I highly recommend you do. I further recommend that, if you are travelling with VIA, that you spring for their VIA One service--their version of first class.

It includes access to a separate, comfortable lounge in the station with free wifi, coffee, tea, pop, juice, etc so you don't have to stand in long lines and you're the first to board the train when it arrives. It also means that you get a decent meal on the train with wine and--here's the important part--all you can drink.

Yes. Train travel is for me.

Anyway, I had occasion to take the train home for Christmas recently and believe me when I say that there is no better time to travel first class then at the holidays. You get removed from the mouth-breathing, throbbing masses cutting you off and dragging their luggage around--which puts me into a rage at the best of times--and you get a few drinks in your system on the way; transitioning you smoothly into vacation mode and preparing your body for the binge-drinking that is to follow as you visit with various relatives and in-laws.

The only thing then, that can screw up the brilliance that is VIA One travel, is other people; which is of course exactly what happened to me.

They first interrupted the relative calm of the lounge with a sort of thundering entrance; an older couple that were somehow as large physically as they were loud. Big, greasy, white-haired people yelling at each other.

I don't mean to sound like a dick, but it seemed to me that they probably hadn't left their farm in some time. Really, they were just dirty, lumbering folks that actually referred to each other as mom and pop even though it didn't seem clear that they had any children.

People were shushing them, but they were just so fantastically ignorant of their surroundings they paid no heed. At first it was kind of amusing, I shared a laugh with the guy beside me. It was great, really. This couple was a perfect combination of crass and deaf; essentially shouting rude things to each other in a space meant for quiet and relaxation.

But then of course, the novelty wore off as people began to realize, fuck, these goons were going to be on the train with us for the next two hours.

We all sort of nervously shuffled onto the train, hoping that we wouldn't get seated near them. The reality of course, was that it didn't really matter where on the car you were seated because they were just that loud.

The fun started when a VIA employee politely told the guy that they bag he was trying to store at the front of the train would easily fit in the overhead storage compartment, a gesture she repeated for everyone who had luggage small enough to be brought to their seat on that crowded train.

From about five feet from the very polite woman, the dude yelled to his wife, "The bitch wouldn't let me put my bag in there!"

And so, given that they were actually louder than my iPod, and that no one had any choice but to hear every word they said, I decided to jot down the various gems that I overheard in the two hours that followed and created this list for you.

Be forewarned, politically correct these folks were not.

[discussing the woman who had just delivered a drink to them] She's an edible young girl.
Him: It's an hour and ten minutes til we get there.
Her: How do you know?
Him: I got a memory clock.
[discussing the man who had just walked through the train checking tickets] Do you think he's a faggot?
I'm horny as a house cat.
I'm a beef guy, eh?
I'm a coff-aholic, eh?
Are you Japanese?
Him: Koreans.
Her: They're the worst.
I think everybody's gay.
Him: You do look puerto rican.
Her: I do?
Him: It's your green eyes.
He's a retarded alcoholic cripple, eh? He's an asswipe!

Not featured: a quiet but solid five minute period wherein the man dug in both his ears with the sharpened part of a pencil.

Room-mate Ruins Sick Day

2011-12-29T15:00:00.000-05:00

A day that was meant to be one of relaxation and rest for Toronto resident Mike Carter was ruined earlier this week when he inadvertently called in sick to work on a day that his roommate, Dwayne, also had the day off.

Carter, a mid-level employee in a mediocre software engineering firm, called in sick early Thursday morning when he decided he simply didn't feel like going to work.

"I just got [Playstation 3 game, Batman:] Arkham City and I've been putting in a lot of hours on this brutal project at work so I just thought, f--- it, I deserve a day off."

Unfortunately for Carter, he forgot that his roommate, Dwayne, a part-time employee at a local pet store, never works on Thursdays.

"Yeah, I just walked out into the living room and saw him there on the couch and was kind of like, 'Damn it!'" notes Carter.

While Carter still spent the day doing essentially nothing, his video game session was relegated to playing Dwayne's copy of NHL 12 since it's the only two player game they have, and because technically the system belongs to Dwayne.

The presence of Dwayne likewise meant that Carter had to share the already minuscule recently discovered remnants of a joint he had hidden in an Altoids container and, while he still spent a good portion of the day masturbating, the presence of his roommate in the next room meant he had to do so with a sort of nervously quiet lack of enthusiasm.

Dr. Johnson: Your Husband's Friends, Homework, and Sluts

2011-12-20T07:30:00.000-05:00

It it time once again for me to answer some letters written to Carolyn Hax of The Washington Post me.

Dear ~~Carolyn~~ Dr. Johnson,

I’ve been married for two years, and I no longer want to socialize with my husband’s friends. Early in our relationship he told me it would be a deal-breaker if I couldn’t get close to the two people he’s closest to; he doesn’t have much of a relationship with his parents, so they have been like a surrogate family to him.

I find them to be boring, too alcohol-dependent, and just not worth all the time we spend with them. But I know how badly it would hurt him if I said this. How do I get out of seeing them as much as he expects me to?

D.C.

DC,

The reason your husband loves those guys is because they are boring and alcohol dependent. Those aren't character flaws, those are their virtues: A man's best friends are the guys he can sit around and do boring shit with and just drink beer. I think if you tell your husband that he can continue spending as much time as he wants with his friends drinking beer but that you're not going to join him as often as you usually do, you'll find him surprisingly accepting of the idea.

"It's just a shame your wife's not here, Rick."

Dear ~~Carolyn~~ Dr. Johnson:

When I was growing up, I was told that good girls didn’t have sex until they were married. I became a little more liberal, but I still believed an engagement, or at the very least love, was required. But from what I see in movies and on TV, I’m wondering if sex has become just a fun activity with no need to justify it. Is there no longer such a thing as a slut?

FL

FL,

I think you're confusing TV and movies with reality. That's a fantasy world. In real life, people still wait for their wedding night, as the good lord intended. Sex is something two people do strictly for the purpose of procreation. While sex is certainly a fun activity, women shouldn't do it until the time is right or, as you say, they will forever be branded a slut.

For those women who find that their urges are getting the better of them, the church has recently officially recommended a vigorous finger bang.

Filthy habit, that.

Dear ~~Carolyn~~ Dr. Johnson:

A non-parent here with a gripe about today’s parents: I don’t remember my parents helping me with my homework on a daily (or even weekly) basis. Isn’t it their homework? I don’t remember my parents playing (read, entertaining) me every day, either. We played with our friends. Why do parents today feel the need to do everything with their kids?

Anonymous

Dear Anonymous,

Maybe if your parents had helped you with your homework, you wouldn't be such a dumbass now. Are you really mad about parents helping their kids, or are you just resentful that your parents' lack of interest in you has led you to a series of dead end jobs and a frustrating inability to focus on anything more intellectually stimulating than The Bachelor?

Maybe you need to stop worrying about what other people are doing and think a little bit about why your parents didn't want to play with you or read to you and how that has led you to be incapable of letting any one get close to you.

That desire to help and nurture their children is something called love, something you'll probably never experience.

And you smell bad.

Go put on your tie, it's time to colour!

Dear ~~Carolyn~~ Dr. Johnson,

It was recently mentioned to me that I’m kind of dull to be around and just dull in general. I knew I wasn’t an exciting person, but I didn’t realize I was so boring.

Now, the more I reflect on it, I can see that they’re right. I don’t have an interesting job, any interesting hobbies or anything really provocative or humorous to say to anyone. Now it makes sense why my friends rarely call me or call back. Apparently I’m so easy to forget. So, where do I go from here?

Dull

Dear Dull,

Your problem is not uncommon and it's actually something that humans have been dealing with for generations. There actually is a cure for what you've described. It's called alcohol.

The next time you've got to attend a social function, get yourself down to your local liquor store and stock up on some loud mouth soup. You'll probably find that different alcohols will give you a different new personality; red wine will likely make you affectionate and verbose, rye whiskey will make you mean and ready to fight, tequila will make you slutty, etc.

Regardless of what you choose, you'll definitely find that the personality that alcohol gives you is far better than the white bread plainness of your current existence--furthermore, you'll find that the opposite sex is more interested you and better looking, your jokes are funnier and baseball is infinitely more interesting.

I strongly recommend you get started right away and, if you're a lady, it probably wouldn't hurt to throw on a shirt that shows your tits.

This is actually a rare picture of my inner child.

Dear ~~Carolyn~~ Dr. J:

I have been dating a wonderful woman for a year, exclusively for six months. We are both 24. Our relationship is built on solid friendship; I love her fully and unconditionally.

I have reached a point in my life that I want to get married and begin a family. She makes me happy on every possible level and I could not think of a better teammate. Recently we have cooled off physically, and I attribute that to the end of the “honeymoon stage.”

I’m sure it is only my self-consciousness, but I fear the cooling down will continue beyond the normal leveling that I expected. I am fully committed to her, and she to me. We trust each other 100 percent. When I make comments about marriage and growing old together, she agrees that she also wants these things. However, when I have suggested that we move in together, she shuts me down.

She spends 90 percent of her time at my place. It makes financial sense and I believe we would both be happier. She claims she fears judgment from friends and family because we haven’t been together long enough to warrant their acceptance.

I find these sentiments to be petty and childish, and that is not her personality. She is the strongest person I know. We are adults. We know what is best for us. I fear she is being less than forthright but I do not want to accuse her of being deceptive. She has given me no reason to doubt her sincerity to date.

I have attempted to ask questions like, “Are you sure that is the only reason you are apprehensive?” and she tells me she is sure and drops the subject.

Am I worrying unnecessarily? Or is her hesitation to take the next step in a relationship that has been beautiful and fulfilling from day one a clue that she is not ready for these things?

-Worried she won’t grow up

Worried,

You've been dating a 24 year old for six months and you've already accepted a "cooling off" of your sex life?

What is wrong with you? You two should be banging like it's your job.

If anything, she's probably not interested in sex anymore or moving in with you because you talk like a 40 year old women who is feeling her eggs shrivel up.

"We are adults. We know what is best for us." Who talks like that? Are you wearing orthodic shoes? Do you romance her with sentiments like "It makes financial sense."

My advice to you is start acting like a 24 year old. Try having some fun and not planning your retirement. Worship the woman who agreed to be with a nerd like you and romance the shit out of her. You'll probably find she's game for a shag if you stop measuring her furniture and start giving her a foot rub.

Also, it seems pretty clear she's cheating on you.

Good luck!

"My tits are bigger than yours."

The Real Johnson answers selections from Washington Post columnist Carolyn Hax's mail ~~every Thursday afternoon~~ from time to time.

Ten People I want to Punch in The Face (this week)

2011-12-16T16:00:00.000-05:00

Faithful Real Johnson readers,

Please accept my sincere apologies for my lack of blog posts lately. I've been extremely busy in real life, what I call my meatspace, and I've been unable to bring you the levels of swear-filled rage to which you've become accustom.

In order to rectify the situation, and hopefully kick off a manic blog-posting spree to get you through the holidays, I thought I'd offer you a bonus-sized edition of a Real Johnson classic, Ten People I Want to Punch in The Face (this week).

Enjoy.

People who begin their sentences with the phrase "Can I be honest with you?" You don't need to ask that. I pretty much assume that when you're speaking to me you're telling me the truth, so when you preface a story or a statement with a qualifier that indicates you are only now going to begin speaking honestly, it implies that everything else you've ever said to me is a lie. Can I be honest with you? I want to punch you in the fucking face.
Rick Perry. Look, I know Americans are a wacky, conservative bunch and a lot of them still hold some religious convictions, but do we really live in a world where a guy can run for one of the most powerful offices in the world and put out videos where he campaigns on his anger that gays can serve openly in the military? Really?! Out and out homophobia is acceptable from someone running to be President of the United States of America? Also, dude, it's not a war on religion if someone is working to give other humans equal rights and trying to keep church and state separate. America's so-called religious foundation was really about giving people the freedom to follow whatever beliefs they wanted, not some narrow-minded conservative bullshit political ideology you're masking as "Christianity." Rick Perry, take off your manly khaki jacket, get down off your high horse and please allow me to punch you right in your stupid, bigoted face.
People who are trying to convey laughing in a written message but write "ahahah." Sound it out, dummy. Are you laughing, or are you The Count from Sesame Street? One! One punch in the face! Ah ah ah!
Mitt Romney This feels like a repeat of the second entry, but sadly, it's not. There are (at least) two asshole conservative running for president who seem to hate gay people, despite the fact that it seems quite clear they both secretly masturbate to images of Ronald Reagan. Romney likewise believes in "traditional marriage," by which he means that gay couples shouldn't be granted the same benefits that married hetero-couples get--e.g. the types of benefits and pensions that widows of veterans are entitled to. Check out this dude trapping Romney into looking like the douchenozzle that he is at a recent press event. The only way this could have been better is if that veteran followed up that hand shake with a punch in the face.

Any parent who had a daughter after 1999 and named her Britney. Sorry. I'm sure your daughter is a lovely person, but by 1999 virtually the entire world was aware of Britney Spears and, subsequently, if you named your daughter Britney you were pretty much just admitting that she would never amount to much more than white trash. I know it sounds harsh, but Britney Spears set a precedent and it's essentially scientific fact that there are no Britneys under the age of fourteen that are ever going to accomplish anything academically significant or otherwise intellectually notable. If you named your daughter Britney post-Spears, you have resigned yourself to having a daughter who will be fond of jean shorts and the company of many, many men--in addition to earning yourself a big ol' punch in the face from me. Extra bonus punch if you spelled Brtiney "creatively", e.g. Brittini.
Cab drivers that honk as they go by to see if I want a cab. Maybe this is just a Toronto phenomenon, but it drives me mental. Cabbies will slow down when they are near someone on the side walk and honk there horn like they are fishing for fares. It makes me turn around and to look at who is honking at me and wastes my god damn time. I shouldn't have to inform every cab driver that I encounter that, no, I don't want a ride. It's not my job to turn down cabs all day. It is a cab driver's job to pick up people who flag them down. Stop trying to convince people they need a cab. If people need a cab, they'll wave. Next time you honk, please pull right up to the curb and unroll your window so that I can punch you in the face.
The staff at Wikipedia. I don't actually hate the staff at Wikipedia. Wikipedia, obviously, is awesome and has ensured that I never have to actually retain any knowledge in my actual brain, ever. But these stupid direct pleas for help with pictures are ridiculous. Why do I think they are ridiculous, you ask? Here's why:

Really, Lindsay Lohan? Wikipedia, please simply accept that because you are on the internet for free, people are going to continue to expect you to provide your services for free. The second you decide to go away or become a pay-per-use service, someone else will simply do exactly what it is that you do now and we all just start using that service instead. Wikipedia, for your irritating personal appeals that feature unfortunately placed images of your staff, please accept this punch in the face.
Kevin O'Leary. Most Canadians will probably instantly understand why this steaming turd is on the list, but for those of you don't, please allow me to explain. Mr. O'Leary is a on a number of CBC television shows and he attempts to play the role of the "truth teller."
In an attempt to make itself seem less liberal, the CBC has put this "business man" in at least three different TV shows and the CBC morning news even goes to him for their daily dose of business. news. He attempts to be the classic "shoots from the hip" character--the Simon Cowell, the Howard Stern maybe, or the Donald Trump perhaps--and the CBC is in no short supply of promos that spotlight his "take no prisoners style" noting that "you may not like what he has to say, but it's always 100% Kevin" and all other manner of ridiculous, hackneyed bullshit.
O'Leary mixes his "no nonsense" style with what he imagines to be a classic "corporate" persona and spouts trite clichés about capitalism being the answer to everything, greed being good, etc. He is essentially a cartoon character version of a 1980s yuppie, which, almost endearingly, is what the CBC thinks of when they try to appeal to a conservative audience.
The problem of course, is that Kevin O'Leary is a gratingly obnoxious douche-bag with no real insight into business--or really, anything else. Instead he interjects the morning news with predictable less government, less taxes analysis and bats around his "counterpart" on the Lang and O'Leary exchange, the out of place Heather Lang, tasked with discussing economics and armed with a degree in architecture and an employment history of being a...reporter?
The results, to say the least, are incredibly punch-worthy, but often their met with little more than the half-hearted debate he gets from Lang or a shrugging, "That's our conservative, Kevin!" from CBC News' Heather Hiscox.
However, when he's put in a room with anyone with enough spine to stand up to him and with anything more than a passing knowledge of first year economics or some understanding of world events, he gets rightly pummelled, as he did when he tried to play his conservative cartoon character role while talking to Pulitzer Prize winning journalist Chris Hedges, in the video below.
Kevin O'Leary, for reducing our national broadcaster to the level of journalism usually attributed to FOX News, I've been reserving a walloping punch to your stupid face for a long time.
Whoever invented the wall socket. This one seems kind of weird, but hear me out. I had an epiphany the other day about just how irritating the wall socket is. If you've ever tried to plug in certain three-prongs items like power bars or phone chargers, you'll understand where I'm coming from.
See a socket looks like this:

But a lot of three-pronged things plug in like this:

Thus it is often impossible to plug two three-pronged items into the same socket.
Why don't they make sockets that look like this?

Or even this?

And so, dude who invented the wall socket, for not predicting the future shape of things that would be plugged into your invention, I would like to plug a punch into your face.
(If any of you decide to actually create this brilliant idea, please send me some free ones and cut me in on 40% of your profits and we'll call it square).
The Kardashians. Who are these big-assed giggling morons and why should they be emblazoned on every fucking magazine in the supermarket? Seriously. This is the absolute worst of what North American society has to offer. Vapid, talentless, rich women who are famous simply because they are famous. Enough already. This is disgusting celebrity worship and I. Just. Don't. Give. A. Fuck.

Have a good weekend!

FYI, you can actually buy that sweet little Moleskine notebook in the lead image right here.

Justin Trudeau Calls Peter Kent A Piece of Shit, Earns My Respect

2011-12-14T17:10:00.000-05:00

Sure, at times he seems a like an opportunistic weasel and he's allowed a lot more slack and prestige than he would be if his name wasn't "Trudeau," but for calling Peter Kent, the federal minister of finance a "piece of shit" in the House of Commons today, Justin Trudeau has earned a little bit more of my respect.

Kent had just finished chiding the NDP environment critic Megan Leslie, for not having been in attendance at a climate change conference in Durban, South Africa.

"Had you been in Durban..." minister Kent had began.

The problem of course, was that the Conservatives didn't invite opposition MPs to the conference.

Essentially, flexing their majority muscle, Harper's Conservatives decided they needn't foot the bill to have dissenting voices along at the conference, so they simply weren't in attendance.

So when the environment minister wagged that fact in MP Leslie's face, Trudeau exclaimed "Oh, you piece of shit!"

Since Question Period, Trudeau has, of course, offered all due apologies, noting that his actions were "unparliamentarian" and saying he "lost his cool."

But let's face facts: Peter Kent kind of is a piece of shit.

On Monday, for example, Kent formally announced that Canada will withdraw from the Kyoto Protocol, saying the accord "does not represent a way forward for Canada," and that we would face crippling fines for failing to meet our targets.

Translation: because we don't want to be on the hook for the penalties we would be forced to pay under the rules of the Kyoto Protocol, we're just ducking out of the thing altogether. Like finding out we lost a bet, but couldn't afford to pay up so we just never did.

That sounds like a piece of shit move to me.

Canada was supposed to have cut emissions by 6% this year based on our 1990 levels, but instead emissions have risen by around a third.

What this means is that Canada would have had to fork over about $14 billion dollars. An amount far too much, says Mr. Kent, for us to be stuck with. The only option, he says, is for us to bow out of the protocol.

Well...there was the option of...actually doing what we said we would do when we signed the Kyoto protocol, but that would have just been silly, of course.

Basically, under Kent, Canada's reputation on the environment has continued to be a joke; the object of
international ridicule and recent scorn from other countries.

Under this environment minister, Canada has pulled out of a mulitnational agreement on improving the environment because we did a really, really shitty job at curbing emissions and, instead, we've been increasingly developing the tar sands. The Harper government bowed out of Kyoto and, instead, continues to express interest in "stepped-up exploitation of the tars sands," despite the fact that critics "have argued that the carbon footprint associated with such an expansion would permanently cripple global efforts to get global warming under control."

I gotta tell you, these kind of sound like the actions of a piece of shit to me.

So Justin, while I'm not chomping at the bit to throw a vote your way when you inevitably (oh come on, you know he will) make a run to lead the Federal Liberal party, today you get a little bit of support from me for telling it like it is in the house of commons.

UPDATED: A Letter to The Nameless Toronto Parking Infraction Bureaucrat Who Opens This Envelope

2011-12-10T09:15:00.000-05:00

The following is a letter I sent to the City of Toronto on November 29th, 2011.

UPDATE: I posted this to the blog December 9th and, coincidentally, when I got home from work that day, I had received an utterly humorless response from the city, which I have now added to the end of the post, if you're interested.

City of Toronto
Parking Infraction Payments
BOX 4282 Station A
Toronto, Ontario
M5W 5W5

Re: Infraction Number BH357627

Dear Valuable and Under-Appreciated Public Servant,

First, let me say thank you for reading this. I understand you probably get letters and requests like this all day long, so simply for taking a minute to read this, let me say that I am really, really grateful.

Also, wow, you look really, really nice today. Seriously.

As you’ll see from the enclosed Notice of Impending Conviction, I’ve got an outstanding fine related to my having allegedly committed the offence “STAND ON–ST DISABL LDG NO PRMT,” which I assume means something like I parked in a disabled loading area?

The problem is this: I really didn’t.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Yeah right, pal. That’s what they all say.”

And fair enough.

What lamer possible excuse could I have for not wanting to pay a ticket than simply saying “No I didn’t!”

However, I’d like to suggest that simply by virtue of the sheer lameness of my excuse, you can see that I’m being genuine. I don’t need to make up elaborate nonsense, because I really just didn’t break the law.

And so I ask for your help.

I know that on my ticket there were instructions on how to refute my ticket. And I know that on this very notice of impending conviction there are instructions on how to refute my ticket. I have seen such instructions numerous times thanks to the many parking tickets I rack up when my wife and I forget to move the car to the other side of the street at the middle and end of each month as our permit states we must.

My having received so very many tickets, however, is precisely the reason, upon receiving yet another parking ticket, and yet another notice of impending conviction, I didn’t bother reading either of them and, instead, simply tossed the ticket in my glove compartment and added the notice of impending conviction to the pile.

As you’ll note from my history, if you have access to it, I do always pay my tickets, though it often takes me a while. I tuck them away in the massive pile of junk mail and bills that I have in my kitchen and often forget about them for some time, but I always get to them eventually.

You can imagine my recent surprise then when going through this pile of junk mail and outstanding tickets, I noticed that this particular notice was no routine parking ticket, but instead a fine for $450 for the mysterious offence of having STOOD ON–ST DISABL LDG NO PRMT!

I promise you, as a person who is very conscious of matters related to accessibility, and one who respects traffic laws, I did not park in any ST DISABL LDG. I remember the day the fine was received vividly; because we parked on College Street around the corner from Kensington Market and I had tacos for lunch at El Trompo (I never forget an event involving Mexican food).

We parked in an actual spot! No ST DISABL LDG was to be seen anywhere.

And so, I’m asking you, Faithful, Overworked and (I’m assuming) Lovely Public Servant, if you might somehow see it in your heart to make this ticket go away.

I’m not going to complain about the ridiculous fact that tickets need to be refuted in person during hours when most people work. And I won’t mention that the locations are not very convenient. That’s not your problem. You didn’t make these policies, so I’m not going to waste my time bitching about that. Besides, I’m sure you’ve heard it all before.

And I’m not going to address this letter to any of your superiors. I want results. That’s why I wrote to you. Frankly, I think we both know they’ve got their heads up their asses and they don’t even appreciate the work that you do for them day in and day out. Why would I waste my time with them? Let’s be honest, if I want something done around here, I should talk to you, not those people upstairs. You’re the one who gets things done around here and, damn it, I appreciate that, even if they don’t.

I’m also not going to waste your time with any long-winded or silly arguments about why I might have been parked in a DISABL LDG and I’m not going to claim that my grandma was with me and that she has an accessible parking permit.

That would lying. You’re a nice person and a great dresser and I value the work you do far too much to lie to you.

I’m also not going to try to appeal to some sense of the Holiday Spirit as we approach Christmas time. For all I know you may not even celebrate Christmas, so my pleas for you to spare me this $450 burden going into a time when I’m expected to buy presents for my family may well come off as an insult. It’s not my place to project any religious values on you, Humble Public Servant. So I’m not going to. I respect your choices as an attractive individual too much to go there.

Furthermore, claims about being generous and kind-hearted simply because it’s getting close to Christmas would be cheap and transparent and I can appreciate that a person in your stressful and busy line of work has no time for that kind of nonsense. You’re the kind of person who tells it like it is and doesn’t sugarcoat it so, for crying out loud, it’s the least I could do to return the favour.

Instead, I’ll just say this: I really did park in an actual parking spot on October 15, 2011.
I don’t know what exactly STAND ON–ST DISABL LDG NO PRMT is, but I can assure you that I didn’t do it.

I’m truly sorry I didn’t refute my ticket within the timeline provided and I’m likewise sorry that I couldn’t take vacation time or sick leave in order to come refute the ticket in person; notably because it would have allowed me the pleasure of meeting you in person.

But if you could somehow find it in your heart to cancel this ticket, you would really, really make my day–just like I hope I have made yours.

Thank you very much for your time, and if I don’t hear from you before then, have a very happy holiday (whichever one you may celebrate this time of year) because damn it, you deserve it.

Sincerely,

Johnson

This is how the city responded. I know they read my letter, because the original signed copy of my letter was included in the response. Not even a "ha ha" -- hell not even complete sentences! Sheesh.

According to the officer the vehicle was parked in a disabled parking spot. Must be disputed in court with the issuing officer. Must file for reopening.

Yours Truly

[Paul?]

PARKING TAG OPERATIONS

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

2011-12-05T16:50:00.001-05:00

Can we please talk about this song for a minute?

These are the lyrics:

I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus
Underneath the mistletoe last night.
She didn't see me creep
Down the stairs to have a peek;
She thought I was tucked
Up in my bedroom fast asleep.

Then, I saw Mommy tickle Santa Claus
Underneath his beard so snowy white.
Oh, what a laugh it would have been,
If Daddy had only seen
Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night!

On the surface, this is a cute song about a youngster who happened to creep down the stairs and spotted his or her mom having a little kiss with what was (we are to believe) the singer's father.

It's a cute and cheeky little song that's been covered by everyone from the Jackson 5 to John Mellencamp, to Jessica Simpson and Amy Winehouse.

But what's really going on here?

Think about the trauma for this youngster.

For starters, there is the initial shock of seeing a character you believe to be magical actually in your home. Depending on the age of the kid, that's going to be a pretty massive event. "Santa is real! And he's here!"

Then there's the realization that your mother is kissing Santa Claus.

Sure it's fun at first, "Wow! Mommy is actually kissing Santa."

But by the time that kid crawls back into his or her bed, any number of horrendous things are going to start going through his or her head. First, it's going to raise questions about what kind of man Santa Claus really is. Here's this semi-mythical elf that, for all this children's years thus far, has been nothing but a symbol of goodness and generosity.

Now the kid's got to think about why Santa would make a move on mommy. Doesn't Santa know that mommy is with daddy? Furthermore, does Santa do this at every house he goes to? Maybe, it stands to reason, Santa does a little kiss and tickle at every house he goes to. So what kind of person is this Santa? What else, this kid will start to wonder, is Santa spreading to all the homes of boys and girls all over the world?

Then, despite what a laugh it might have been that first Christmas, this poor kid has got years of guilt ahead--living with that sickening secret that his or her mom made out with Santa--never daring to tell daddy.

That kid is going to dread the approach of Christmas. The advent calendar, instead of counting down the days until a joyful celebration, will come to that kid to represent a countdown until the day mommy gets her yearly dose of elven ass. A day you can guarantee the singer won't creep out of bed ever again for fear of what Jolly St. Nick might be doing to mommy underneath the mistletoe.

And that's just where the trauma begins.

Eventually, this kid is going to grow up to be old enough to realize that there is no Santa Claus.

Someday the kid is going to go, "But what about the time I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus?" and the kid will go, "Oh cute! That was my dad all along!"

"But wait a minute...I was in bed. They had no idea I was creeping down to take a peak. What the hell was my dad doing with that suit on?"

Then the kid, for years haunted by the spectre of his Santa-kissing whore mother and that drunken red-nosed son of a bitch in the red suit, will start to think about what the hell his or her very own parents were up to down there.

What sick sexual fantasies were being acted out, father in a Santa suit replete with a beard and mom happily sitting on his lap, just steps away from where that kid sleeps?

Sure, it started with kissing, but what sort of Santa home-invasion fantasies got lived out among the toys that kid was going to unwrap the very next morning?

What kind of sick parents have I got, this kid will come to think.

What a laugh indeed.

This song is disgusting.

WINNER: The Real Johnson Caption Contest

2011-12-02T17:09:00.000-05:00

Congratulations to the winner of the most recent Caption Contest, HerbNBrew.

HerbNBrew, you are now entitled to proudly display the badge below on your own blog, as your facebook profile picture or even, as one automotively-inclined fan did, airbrush it on the hood of your Camaro.

I'm not pandering to my fantastically funny (and good looking) readers when I say that this was actually a difficult decision. There were some damn funny entries this time around.

You're all super!

But some are more super than others. Congratulations HerbNBrew. You've joined an elite club today and are now a Real Johnson Caption Master.

"The kids asked for Dr.Pepper, not Sgt.Pepper!"

Original post after the jump.

It is time once again to prove that Real Johnson readers are the funniest people in the blogosphere.

Think you've got what it takes to be crowned a Real Johnson Caption Master?

Submit a caption to this picture and, if you're the funniest. you'll be legally entitled to post this Caption Master badge to your own blog, to your facebook profile or, as one particularly agrarian fan did, plow the image into your corn field.

So now there's only one thing left to ask...

What the heck is going on here?

Change Thing Finally Full

2011-11-28T18:40:00.001-05:00

Panic struck in my household last night as it finally became unquestionably clear that the thing my wife and I dump pocket change into was full to the brim.

The change thing, which appears to have been an old fish bowl, was flirting with capacity for some time after an incredibly long run serving as the thing into which both my wife and I haphazardly dump all pocket change smaller than a quarter whenever we come home--often throwing our keys beside it onto the old hutch upon which it sat.

While the change thing appeared full for some time, it wasn't until late last night, after adding an assortment of small change collected following a snack run to the gas station next door, that my wife and I realized that yes, the change thing was finally full.

Having been void of quarters and loonies, which are always saved instead for laundry, it was easy to overlook the importance of the change thing. That all changed today, when, in a panicked moment after work, I began aggressively dumping the contents of my pockets in order to take off my work pants, and realized there was nowhere to unload the assortment of small change I had accumulated after having bought a peppermint tea at Tim Hortons this afternoon.

Some time was spent considering the effort it would require to roll the contents of the change thing, as was the idea of simply dumping the change thing into that machine thing at the grocery store that saves you having to roll it. Ultimately, however, owing to the urgency of the need to take off my ever-tightening dress pants, I opted instead to simply hide the change thing in a neglected corner of our bedroom behind a selection of VHS tapes that will never again be watched.

A newly emptied tube from a bottle of scotch became conveniently available shortly following the removal of my work pants and I quickly noticed its potential to become the new change thing. The tube, from a particularly delicious bottle of The Balvenie 12 year-old Signature series, is now home to approximately $1.47 and seems poised to enjoy a long career holding change, small foreign currency left over from vacations, and the occasional button.

Turning Back to God Again

2011-11-23T13:03:00.001-05:00

About a year ago, I posted a little tête-a-tête of sorts that I had in the comments section of a Christian blogger with whom I took offense after reading some his homophobic and grotesquely graphic pro-life posts.

I had a little chuckle at his expense and shared it with Real Johnson readers, who also seemed to enjoy the exchange, and we all moved on.

Or so you all thought.

You see, I have a confession to make.

I didn't move on.

Since that time, that website has actually been a regular stop on my routine trips around the blogosphere.

In fact, there are few sites that can improve my mood more than that great provider of Christ-related wallpapers and horrendous inspirational Christian poetry, Turnback to God--a site moderated by a unibrowed fellow who goes by the name "Georgy."

Unlike Georgy's myriad other readers though, I don't stop by for a moment of enlightenment, some words of inspiration, or to download such gems as "AwesomeGod.mp3."

No.

I head to Turnback to God, of course, to stir shit up. Call it petty, call it mean, call it small-minded, or as some of you did last time, call it far too easy, but I get a kick out of messing with people like this.

I know; I'm an asshole.

But when you combine horrible grammar and spelling, religious tripe, persecution of people because of their sexual preference, and poorly constructed arguments, it's bait I simply can't resist.

So I often find myself over at Turnback to God when I feel like having an argument and mocking the stupid (Read: often).

Recently, over on Turnback to God, a guest writer with the fantastically awesome name Capt. Mervin John Lobo posted a little gem modeslty titled "Bible: The Best Book In The World."

I'll spare you the details of Capt. Mervin's post, but it's full of such insights as "The Bible is unique. Holy Bible is the best book in the world. There is no book in the world like it."

Also included are thoughtful analysis of the Bible's authenticity, such as "There is no myth in Bible, the best book in the world."

Anyway, I had some time to kill and thought I'd lend my voice to the discussion. My comments are below. Please feel free to add your own here, or head on over to the original post to weigh in.

The Real Johnson says:

November 23rd, 2011 at 11:29 pm

Hello Capt. John (and Georgy!)

I really enjoyed this post!! I am always telling people that the bible is the best book in the world.
I like what you said about prophecies, specifically that the Bible “contains about 1000 prophecies, about 500 of which have already been fulfilled down to the minutest detail.”

This is a really great way to prove that the bible is the best book in the world and I would love to be able to talk about this fact with some of my friends who have doubts. Do you think you could provide me with some more examples of the Bible’s “proven track record – 500 prophecies fulfilled with 100 percent accuracy?”

My friends might argue that the examples you provide are just things that are also said in the Bible, just later on. For example you talked about how the life of the Messiah was pre-written, but the only proof we have of that prophecy coming true is the account of the Messiah’s life that is also provided in the Bible (the greatest book in the world).

My friends might argue that that really isn’t a reliable argument for 100 per cent accuracy and I really want to show them that the Bible is the greatest book in the world!

You and I know that the truth of these claims is never to be questioned, but some of my friends that have doubts are real sticklers for things like “facts” and “accuracy.” I wonder if you have any more examples of prophecies being fulfilled with 100% accuracy that I might use to show them that the Bible is the greatest book in the world. I’m always trying to think of some but I never can. Can you help??

I’m also worried about the part where you say the Bible (the greatest book in the world) is a book without error or contradictions. I always try to tell my friends that, but they always argue with me!! I know that the Bible (the best book in the world) is flawless, but some of my friends often try to tell me that there are some contradictions in the Bible.

For example, the Bible (the best book in the world) says that Jacob begat Joseph (Matthew 1:16) but it also says that Joseph is the son of Heli (Luke 3:23). My friends ask then who is Jacob’s father?

Also in Genesis 1, God makes beasts first, then man. But in Genesis 2, he makes man first, then beasts.

The Gospel of John is different from the three other Gospels when they talk about how long Jesus was in Jerusalem, and all four Gospels are different in their account of Christ’s last moments and his resurrection.

In Genesis, Abraham has two sons, in Hebrews, only one.

The Bible says it’s wrong to lend money with interest in Leviticus, but in Matthew it says it’s wrong to lend money without interest.

Also, according to the Bible (the best book in the world), my friends argue that God is a vengeful God (Gensis 4:15), and that God is a warrior (Exodus 15:3), and that God is a jealous God (Exodus 20:5), and that God is love (2 Corinthians 13:11), and that the spirit of God is peace, patience, kindness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23).

Which is it, my friends argue?

I know that these mistakes are intentional. It isn’t my place to questions the Bible (the greatest book in the world) or to doubt its authenticity–clearly God has a purpose for these contradictions to have been left in–but my friends argue that these errors should cause us to question the veracity of all the other claims in the best book in the world and to possibly doubt how much we should really follow it (and of course, by deduction, to question the very existence of God!!!)

Lastly, while you continuously tout the fact that the Bible (the greatest book in the world) was written by many different men over a very long time as further evidence of its greatness (a fact with which I of course agree), my friends would argue that this is just further evidence that the Bible is just a book, and not the word of God. Its numerous authors, they would argue, suggest that it is simply the work of men attempting to explain the physical world around them through a series of myths or, worse, to justify the right to rule of whomever was in power at the time by rewriting and adding to the Bible their hasty and contradictory additions.

I have often faced these questions before myself, and I hoped that your post, aptly titled “Bible: The Best Book In The World” might answer them, but I’m still looking for the answers I need to convince my doubting friends.

Can you answer these questions??

What I should I tell these friends??

I anxiously await your response!

God bless!!!

Ain't I stinker?If you'd like to read more of The Real Johnson's adventures over at Turnback toGod, you can check out:

· I, Me, Myself

· No ProblemIf You Have Problems

· BibleSoftware In Modern Life

· The Secret toAvoid Sin or, my personal favourite

· How ToFind Your Partner From God

OK Occupy Toronto, That's Enough

2011-11-10T08:36:00.000-05:00

As we enter day 27 of the Occupy Toronto movement, it's becoming increasingly clear that the city is on the verge of kicking the protesters out of St. James Park.

Citing the need to Winterize the sprinklers in the park, the cost that could be incurred given possible damage to the grass, and, as always, his duty to businesses and taxpayers, Mayor Rob Ford has now publicly stated "We've had a peaceful protest, but I think it's time we asked them to move on [. . .] People have told me they've had enough. I think it's the right thing to do."

And while I think I've made my feelings for our bloated and potty-mouthed Mayor clear previously, I've got to say that when I read the news that the city might soon be giving Occupy Toronto the boot, my first thought was, "Good."

Hear me out.

I'm certainly not siding with the Mayor's reasoning (lawn care trumps social change!), and I am far from a supporter of the so-called one per cent that these movements purport to be opposed to, but I've got to say, ending the shenanigans down at St. James Park is probably in everyone's best interest.

In general, I support the causes for which the "99%" are fighting--social change, a more fair distribution of wealth, greater corporate responsibility--but I can really only say that I support their ideals generally, because I only have a general idea about what it is they are "fighting" for.

And I'm clearly I'm not the only one.

The protesters themselves, it seems, only have a general idea about whatever the hell it is they are fighting for.

I looked to the Occupy Toronto website for some clarification and found the handy "About" tab, only to learn, among other anti-corporate vagaries, that "We have not yet put out a unified message but be sure it will come."

Uh, yes...It's been a month...How long do you think that might take?

Don't get me wrong, I've really tried to make some sense of what exactly it is that the Canadian factions of the Occupy movement are fighting for and frankly, I'm just confused and more than a little disappointed.

They seem to have access to all manner of social media, and no shortage of things to say on it, but it's all just so damn...all over the place. Their website does include some messaging about how speculation and fractional reserve lending are to blame for the current economic situation (with handy links to wikipedia so you can learn what those things are), but generally the intended purpose according to their website--as with the movement itself--just seems to scream for change with no real indication as to how that might ever happen.

It's hard for me to write this, because, damn it man, I'm down with the people. Let's stick it to the man!

But the Occupy Toronto movement is just so bogged down by its own inherent need to change every God damned thing in the whole world. Take, for example, this sentence taken from Occupy Toronto's website, ironically from an item intended to provide further clarification on the movement's intentions:

It is the biggest social forum in history enabled by the modern communications technology and the dire need for independent human discussion to address and resolve the impending issues of survival and well being that are effecting people individually, the environment as a whole, and the life on earth as we know it, with profound ramifications stretching from long ago, to the crisis happening now, and far into the future, to negate the root cause and the negative impact from the attacks caused by the private sector profit-driven agendas of unchecked and unregulated by any responsible democratic process activities of multinational corporations, military industrial complex, banking and finance industry, the big pharma and agro, the Inns of Court and the corporate contract law tricksters, private prison industry and the justice system, medical and educational establishments, secret societies, the elites and alike representing the 1% of the world’s population.

For those of you keeping score at home, yes, that was all one fucking sentence.

One sentence, mind you, that essentially proposes that the Occupy Toronto movement is out to fix the environment, the issues effecting individuals, and life as we know it; take down corporations, the military industrial complex, and the finance industry; fix the legal system and the education system. Not only that but they're going to--ah fuck, I'm exhausted just reading this garbage.

Sorry Occupy Toronto, your ambition is admirable, but when your PR machine strings together rants that sound like the stoner conspiracy theorist from my high school, it's hard to give you any sort of credibility.

I just wish you could pick a cause and do something about it.

I know I sound like a dick, and I seem like one of those people that are dismissing you as "just a bunch of hippies" with no idea what it is you're protesting, but, frankly, it's kind of irritating that you are making it so damn easy for people to dismiss you as a bunch of hippies with no idea what it is you're protesting.

The Occupy movement began in New York as a very real reaction to a very troubling financial situation. As they note on their website, Occupy Wall Street started as a means of ""fighting back against the corrosive power of major banks and multinational corporations over the democratic process, and the role of Wall Street in creating an economic collapse that has caused the greatest recession in generations."

Let's ignore, for a second, that, during the US financial crisis that sparked Occupy Wall Street, Canada actually experienced one of the "mildest and shortest downturn[s] in recent history."

Forget also that employment rates in Ontario have actually risen 1.4% over the past year.

And finally let's also ignore the fact that, thanks to conservative lending practices and increasingly strict regulations, Canada didn't have a housing bubble and our banks didn't actually fail at all.

We'll also say nothing of the fact that the guy who saw Canada through the financial crisis (Mark Carney) did such a good job, that he was recently named the Chair of the Financial Stability Board, the organization tasked with coordinating "national financial authorities and international standard setting bodies and to develop and promote the implementation of effective regulatory, supervisory and other financial sector policies."

Even if we allow, for the sake of argument, that Occupy Toronto isn't about the same things as Occupy Wall Street (because it can't be) and we just say that Occupy Toronto is interested in improving circumstances for the less fortunate--in a very general sense--I'm still confused as to how exactly they are doing that.

In fact, I'm having a hard time discerning what they hell they've been doing at all.

Are we supposed to believe that the movement is going to accomplish any sort of real change by...uh...sitting in a park for a month?

I know they're staging a protest. Their very presence is meant to start the conversation, show their solidarity and blah blah blah. But here's the thing: Nobody is going to do this work for them. By sitting in a park, bitching on twitter and flashing cardboard signs, Occupy Toronto is essentially just asking the 1% to fix themselves.

And as you've made clear, the 1% has got it made. Why would they ever want to change the situation?

Occupy Toronto: "We're going to live outside until corporations stop being so greedy!"
Corporations [waving from inside warm and fancy offices]: "Have fun!" *shovels caviar in mouth*

If you want to accomplish something here, you're going to need to do more than "get the word out." Getting on TV and writing about your cause isn't going to cut it. Don't put the onus to do the work on those who are currently benefiting from the system, because they're not going to do it.

You're basically sitting outside in a park protesting against "greed." You might as well be passionately protesting gravity.

And that passion is is what's so truly irritating. All you Occupy Torontonians clearly feel strongly about doing...something, but by trying to tackle such a broad and vague list of evils, you're really accomplishing nothing.

Why not shift your focus away from the top 1% and focus instead on the bottom 1%?

There are very real social issues that can be tackled right here in Toronto, right now. We've got people living in poverty, an inadequate amount of drop-in centres, men and women living on the streets, youth that could benefit from access to after school programs and mentor-ships--all things about which you could actually get out there and make a difference right now.

This is why, as I hear your pleas for change, while I watch you tout the support you're receiving in food donations from local restaurants to keep the protesters fed, and while I see that you're using twitter to ask David's Teas to donate some green tea to the cause, I think, yes, Mayor Ford, it is most certainly time to ask Occupy Toronto to move on.

You've got Toronto's socially-conscious youth gathered together in one place, you're motivated, passionate, and somewhat organized. I know it isn't as glamorous or as exciting as building a movement and trading barbs publicly with the mayor, but it is time to get out of the park and go work toward making some real social changes right here in this city.

Charting the Creepiness of Movember

2011-11-09T19:00:00.000-05:00

For those of you aren't aware, during November, an increasingly large amount of men opt to donate their upper lip to a good cause and grow moustaches in support of raising awareness for men's health issues.

Here in Canada, the funds raised during Movember go to support research and education about prostate cancer.

The problem (and fun) of Movember, of course, is that you look like a creep as you grow in just the hair on your upper lip.

It's for a good cause, but it can be a confusing and humiliating month.

Most Movember participants are able to share stories, for example, about at least one instance where they felt really confident owing to lingering looks from a lady or two in public. And we can commiserate in the shared experience of realizing that, hey, she wasn't looking because she's interested, she's looking because I look like a person who might have a past that involves the words "repeat offender."

So, as a three-time Movember participant, I thought I would do my part to help out any of you who are new to Movember by charting out the various levels of creepiness you can expect during the month.

*Not shown: the glory of the final week. That's when all your hard work will pay off. I know the slogan has been taken, but bear in mind fellow Movemberans: It gets better.

To learn more about Movember, check out the Official Website of Movemeber Canada.

Government, Americans, and Smoking in Your Car

2011-11-08T07:00:00.000-05:00

A few days ago, I wrote a rambling post about how much the government should regulate/legislate our lives.

It's a subject that I find of particular interest when comparing the commonly held beliefs of people in different countries, notably Canada and the United States.

That is to say, it's always been very apparent to me, that most Canadians and most Americans have a fairly different point of view when it comes to the role of government.

It was my contention that our American neighbours tend to see us as a sort of socialist playground wherein we all wander around wearing plaid, abusing our universal health care system, happily giving half our money to the government, listening to Neil Young, and attending the occasional gay marriage.

Whereas we Canucks tend to think of Americans as well-armed NASCAR enthusiasts, eternally angry with whoever they elected to run the place, listening to Kid Rock, and attending the occasional execution.

While these are fairly broad caricatures (some Americans prefer Korn to Kid Rock), I recently had occasion to witness just how accurate they actually are.

Now, I don't often make it a habit to discuss politics with Americans (see above re: socialism and the likelihood of concealed weapons), but recently it happened by chance.

I was playing blackjack at a casino in Las Vegas when an obviously American couple sat down. I'm not making a joke when I say "obviously" American, he was wearing an Ohio State sweatshirt and if memory serves, she had a sweatshirt with an eagle on it.

Anyway, as we chatted, as so often happens when people share in the joy that is giving money to a casino while drinking free, watery, American beer, they actually touched on the subject of the role of government.

She said something along the lines of, "I heard y'all can't even smoke in your cars anymore!"

As odd as that sentence may seem, it is (sort of) true.

In 2009, Ontario passed legislation that makes it illegal to smoke in your car if you are driving with children. I clarified this and said, yes, that is basically true.

In response, she said, "You'd never get that in the states. People where we're from would see that as Big Brother interfering with their lives."

It's kind of a crazy statement, not just because it seems blissfully ignorant of the details of Orwell's famous novel, but also because it's probably true--and it speaks to a sort of uniquely American resistance of government legislation.

Here, one would think, is an issue where clearly the government has people's best interests in mind.

As the article I've linked to above notes, "Children exposed to second-hand smoke are more likely to suffer sudden infant death syndrome, asthma and cardiac disease."

"Being exposed to one hour of second-hand smoke in a car is the same for a young child as smoking an entire pack of cigarettes."

In short, smoking in a car with a kid = bad.

And yet, there are people who would say it is not the government's business to tell me what I can and cannot do in my own car with my own kids.

I wonder then (but didn't bother asking), what these people's idea is for the role of government? If it's not there to enact laws that attempt to protect and improve the lives of its citizens, what is the government for?

Just tax cuts, frying criminals, and policing the rowdies at Kid Rock concerts?

WINNER: The Real Johnson Caption Contest

2011-11-05T07:00:00.001-04:00

Congratulations to the winner of the most recent, Caption Contest, Rob Watson.

Rob, you are now entitled to proudly display the badge below on your own blog, as your facebook profile picture or even, as one intrepid fan once did, carve it into the wall of your bedroom.

Rob may or may not have been given an unfair advantage by shamelessly pandering to the judge and referencing another recent Real Johnson post.

What can I say? I'm weak.

Congratulations Rob. You are now a Real Johnson Caption Master.

"Twitter update from @prtygrl69; @wetnwild22 ate my ass for these guys n' they just up and leave! nobody even done paid me! @Rickmuscles76 didn't done shit about it."

Original post follows after the jump.

It is time once again to prove that Real Johnson readers are the funniest
people in the blogosphere.

Think you've got what it takes to be crowned a Real Johnson Caption Master?

Submit a caption to this picture and, if you're the funniest. you'll be legally entitled to post this Caption Master badge to your own blog, to your facebook profile or, as one intrepid fan did, have it made into a brand and seared into your torso.

So now there's only one thing left to ask...

What the heck is going on here?

Full disclosure: I took this image from the always amusing site Sorry I Missed Your Party.

Poutine, Philosophy, and Parallel Polity

2011-11-03T07:00:00.000-04:00

A few days ago, during one of my routine trips around the blogosphere, as I occasionally do, I found myself at the blog, Parallel Polity, written by the always thought-provoking "AM." In particular, I was intrigued by his post Get the flab of the state off my dinner plate! about the issue of government regulations and the healthiness of food.

In particular, AM was commenting on a National Post article about a recent decision to ban unhealthy foods from a Quebec arena (and the subsequent repeal of that ban).

AM, as he is often wont to do, used the columnist's argument as a case for smaller government and less regulation. Given that in Canada we have universal healthcare, the argument often goes that protecting the health of the nation's citizens is a matter of government interest since it will effect the shared cost of caring for an unhealthy populace. AM, and the NP columnist, instead argue that our love of fatty foods and our rejection of government bodies' attempts to legislate same is actually an argument against universal healthcare.

It is an interesting idea, and one that I thought got to the root of why I so often find myself arguing with things AM posts, despite the fact that we both generally agree in our shared enthusiasm for belittling the stupid. What I realized was that I tend to think that the government ought to attempt to help its citizens as much as possible and I realized that my point of view presupposes that people are essentially stupid. That is, to me, in a world where people are stupid enough to attempt to eat KFC Double-Downs for dinner every night, maybe someone should step up and say, hey, idiot, your heart is going to explode.

Similarly, in a world where there are people dumb enough to name their children Bristol or Trig, perhaps we should think twice before giving the general population the ability to buy all manner of firearms.

And, in light of recent events, in a world where corporate greed has caused world financial markets to crumble, perhaps the government ought to enact stricter regulations to try to stop the bleeding.

I thought I had similarly figured out that AM's point of view--himself a very logical and learned person--optimistically assumed that people are actually smart enough to make decisions for themselves.

I was wrong, however, as AM clarified in the comments of his post and, instead, it seems AM leans toward a sort of cultural Darwinism whereby these dummies should be allowed to suffer their own stupidity rather than be forced to submit to the [potential] stupidity of those in government.

In terms of the recent financial crisis, I assume AM's line of thinking goes that foolish governing is part of what got us here in the first place so it's silly to assume that more government can get us out (I also assume that AM will tell me if I am misrepresenting his point of view here).

Either way, it's an interesting split and I would argue one that is fairly relevant given today's current financial crisis, the tea baggers, and the growing 99% movement.

Certainly both of these movements seem less than perfect. The tea baggers seem blissfully unaware that they are paradoxically lobbying for less government at home and more government intervention abroad; unaware that in their quest for freedom from government they're simply handing over the reigns of their own fate to corporations that continue to fuck them on a daily basis

The "99%" likewise seems stuck in some sort of hypocritical paralysis, shunning big business while toting iPhones and organizing their movement through social media, screaming for change with little suggestion as to what that change might be.

But at the heart of both movements seems to be a notion of government intervention, the ability of the market to correct itself, and trust in government.

Current political unrest in North America all seems to hinge on the question as to whether you feel like the government should and does have your best interests at heart and therefore you put your faith in government, or whether you hope you're among those strong enough to survive, and advocate that the government steps back and trust things to sort themselves out.

It's a difficult and unpleasant choice really. Essentially, to be happy with either requires a person to be somewhat naive. One way of thinking puts faith in government and assumes that they'll continue to do what's best for the general public. But the other point of view suggests we place faith in the market or privatization and trust that it will naturally tend toward what is best for serving the general public's needs.

Frankly, while both points of view are a little scary, I've realized that I prefer to put my faith in the system that at least presumes to allow me some choice as to who is in charge, by voting.

What do you think?

Just a Bunch of Pictures of Hipster Chicks vol. 2

2011-10-31T07:00:00.000-04:00

i'm not sure if it's cuz he's just in the mood 2 see some semi-nude ladies or if it's cuz my last installment of hipster chicks is still good 4 a handful of hits 2 the blog everyday from horny google image searchers, but whatever the reason, there was a post-it on my macbook today from The Real Johnson that said "do more hipster tits."

since i generally spend abt half the day browsing the net for pics of hot chicks NE way, it didn't take me 2 long to compile a few images i think you'll all approve of.

no one here is naked, but there are some pictures you might not want to look @ if yr @ work after the jump

where there's no image credit provided, i took the pictures from The Real Johnson's tumblr site. if they're yours let me know and i'll give due credit for yr beautiful work.

let's start things off with some pics from everyone's favourite provider of ~~ads to masturbate to~~ hoodies, american apparel.

feel like she's going to get cold. that shirt is way 2 small

try to pretend you don't recognize faye reagan from "somewhere"

epic sideboob

the next series of images is from my favourite party blog, lasnightsparty.

lolzies

this was obvi a windy party

smoking: so hot right now

srious nipslip potential here

feel like these arent rly sensible outfits. kind of asking for a chest cold

hot mom from modern family likes to party too, bros

o hai! just chillin in a big ol' pile of feathers

i'm not sure where the rest of these pics came from. they're all taken from tumblr. if they're yrs, email me an i'll credit/remove them. if you are the girl in the picture, email me and i'll come over with 12 pabst and an art film <3

sweet wolf tat

def not a real hipster. cute girl in hipster costume.

the best boobs stay in the air when yr lying down. also, the best dimples R metal

prob not a hipster, but a bum like that defies labels

fave pic here. gets to be the largest. <3 plaid shirt and underwear girl

just gazing of into the distance, rubbing my sides and shit

"get up there right tit! sheesh. always slippin"

milkshakesies!!!11!!

questions or concerns about these pictures? want to send me some pictures for the next installment of pictures of hipster chicks? email me at therealhipster@gmail.com

Josh Reynolds and The Strippers

2011-10-25T07:00:00.000-04:00

Before I get into a long awaited new installment of the ongoing saga of my friend, Josh Reynolds, there are certain universal truths that must first be acknowledged.

First, it is simply a fact that strippers tend to come mostly from a certain socio-economic class. Stripping is generally a profession for women who have had less opportunities than most--the "stripping-her-way-through-college" myth notwithstanding.
Accordingly, it stands to reason that the majority of women who take their clothes off for a living will have less education than those who work among the clothed. Thus, any reference to the lacklustre speaking skills or lower socio-economic standing of the strippers in this story should be chalked up to a statistically proven fact that strippers have less opportunities and not to the fact that the author of this story is in any way mocking these women based on these shortcomings. Additionally, phrases like, "sketchy," "ghetto," and "nasty" should be considered as accurate representations of the people and places they are used to describe, not as any sort of judgement about people from said socio-economic standing.

Secondly, if you are a person who knows me and my circle of friends in real life, it is more than likely you will have attempted to figure out the true identity of "Josh Reynolds" as you have read stories of his adventures here at The Real Johnson. I can hereby assure you that it is not that person you think it is, so stop judging him based on what you read here.

And lastly, it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possesion of a small fortune must be in want of a wild time when entering a strip club for a bachelor party.

However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering the strip club, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the strippers and that man's friends, that it is considered extremely likely that at least one of those men will do something incredibly foolish.

If the visiting party happens to be a bachelor party, the likeyhood increases exponentially.

If Josh Reynolds is among those men, said liklihood for tomfoolery increases to the point that it is virtually a given.

It was on one of these very occasions that we found ourselves, as we have on occasion, at the fine Nigara Falls institution known as Sundowners.

Now strip clubs, as a rule, are not generally "nice" places. They are, obviously, quite sleezy; the drinks are overpriced; the women there are, by definition, objectified; the music is shitty, bass-heavy tripe; and, for a germaphobe like me, these places are a veritable smorgasbord of Shigella, Staphylococcus, E. coli, gonococcus, C. difficile, and bankers.

Having said that, if you must go to a stip club, there are few that I might recommend (in my limitted experience going to such establishments) that are better than Sundowners. That is to say, given the criteria by which the superficial male might classify strip clubs--abundance of naked women and the physical attractiveness of said women--Sundowners would rank quite highly.

And so, upon our entrance to Sundowners that night, in appreciattion of the establishment meeting these standards and in accordance with common practice at a bachelor party, certain members of our party with financial means proceeded to spend gratuitously. In the parlance of our times, these gentlemen where makin' it rain.

And, as is often the case when money is in abundance in a strip club, it wasn't long before the table we were seated at became a popular destination for the employees of the club. In fact, given the enthusiasm of my friend Josh Reynolds for selecting some of the the extablishment's better looking employees in pairs and having them...ahem...do things to each other, our table soon drew the attention of most people in the strip club.

Eventually, however, as our funds dwindled, it became clear that continuing to make it rain at our current rate was not economically feasible. The bar for keeping our new-found, silicone-enhanced friends hanging around had been set quite high and the night was still young. Accordingly, in the interest of preserving our collective funds, the decision was made to take the party, at least temporarily, to the decidedly less appealing strip club that happened to be next door.

I'll spare the "gentlemen's club" next door the embarassment of mentioning it by name, but suffice it to say that this place is nasty.

Indeed, I'll skip tales of what exactly transpired in said club too, but I will say that the establishment was such that it even offended the good taste and common decency of a group of men who had been drinking heavily for the better part of a day and who had just come from giving women money to misrepresent their sexual orientation in public.

To say that the staff of this strip club resembled crack whores would be to insult the honour of crack whores.

Now, while both my memory and judgement at this advanced stage in the evening were likely fuzzy, I remember certain portions of this part of the evening quite fondly. Namely, I recall hugging the bar for dear life--not to avoid falling but rather to avoid the predatory advances of what amounted to little more than prostitutes.

I vividly remember drinking my beer, sitting at the bar, watching men greeted with a lustful and aggressive grab and a bold offer to allow these men to put certain parts of their anatomy into these ladies' mouths.

Needless to say, we didn't stay long.

However, rather than call it a night (as we probably should have), we trekked back next door to Sundowners. Attempts were made to restore the good times we had had previously, but it was very late, the ladies now available for dances weren't half the calibre they once had been, and an all-night barrage of $9 beers and watered-down drinks had finally taken their toll on the group. In short, no one was really into it anymore.

Or so I thought.

Josh Reynolds, it seems, was still attempting to restore the night to its former glory. It turns out that since our return to Sundowners Josh had been frantically attempting to summon strippers in pairs to entertain a few from our party seated at a table in the corner of the bar. When I happened upon him he was seated at a horseshoe-shaped table with another guy from our group who was far too drunk to realize that what was happening wasn't fun any more, and yet another guy who was too drunk to even know what was happening at all.

Josh, seated with his motley crew, trying desperately to keep the party alive, actually seemed to be enjoying the spectacle of two women, er...dancing together. Except, whether it be the result of vision blurred by alcohol or the fact that Josh thought it would be amusing, he had seemingly propositioned two women who were easily the ugliest and fattest strippers I--nay, anyone--had ever seen.

And so, happening upon this scene, Josh grinning like some sort of fat-fetish sex offender seated with a behemoth of a woman leaning back on him, one each of her her giant breasts in Josh's hands, I reacted with considerable disgust.

I glanced at the glassy-eyed friend across from Josh who, based on his angle, was quite literally staring into the second dancer and decided it was time to go.

I told Josh, "I am taking a piss and then we are getting the fuck out of here."

When I returned, the scene somehow seemed even uglier than before. Almost everyone had inexplicably disappeared and, while it may be my flawed recall, I seem to remember that the lights had come on, giving the entire place a sinister, Dr. Gonzo-at-the-North-Star-Café vibe.

One of the dancers had also left, leaving only the larger of the two ladies, who seemed to have paused in the act of getting redressed, her bikini top sitting flipped down just below her massive breasts. I could see that the stripper had a grip on Josh's arm and there was a good degree of anxiety on both of their faces.

When I was about ten feet from the table, I got close enough to hear just one sentence of their dialogue.

She said,"Nobody done paid me."

I promptly did a u-turn, taking myself and my wallet to the parking lot where six little heads popped up from behind a parked car, calling me over, and cluing me in as to where all our friends had disappeared to.

We all squatted behind that car, giggling like drunken idiots at the brilliance that was abandoning our friend to settle the tab at the strip club and we watched the door for the inevitable scuffle.

And that's when we heard her.

"Ricky!" she was yelling, "Kick his ass, Ricky!"

Josh Reynolds had managed to simply walk out of the bar, but he was being pursued by an extremely animated stripper who was pleading with a bouncer--evidently one named Ricky--to kick his ass.

Miraculously, this was about the same time two cabs pulled into the parking lot behind us.

To his credit, Ricky didn't really seem to interested in kicking anybody's ass, but he certainly was insistent that Josh Reynolds pay the lady. Josh on the other hand seemed content to hear him out while he finished his cigarette, but when a cab sped up to him, rear door open, with 3 of his buddies screaming to get in, he knew what to do.

We sped away into the night, laughing like idiots at the knowledge that despite all that stripper's hard work that evening, nobody ever done paid her.

This post featured a drawing from Paul Aihoshi.

15 Words and Phrases Straight Men Shouldn't Use in Public

2011-10-23T07:00:00.000-04:00

1. Totes
2. Oodles
3. "I feel so fat."
4. Sinful
5. Turquoise

6. "Glee is on."
7. Appies
8. "Easy on the eyes"
9. "International pop sensation."
10. Spritzers.

11. Diva
12. "I'm bloated"
13. Aston Kutcher
14. Tinkle
15. Camisole

Toronto, A Big City Thinking Small

2011-10-21T07:00:00.000-04:00

Over the past couple weeks, I happen to have come across three different, well-written articles that each attempt to articulate what can often be a rather frustrating tendency toward stagnation within Toronto, a city with so much potential to be great but a seeming lack of ability to think big or long-term. For Torontonians with any interest in the city's workings, there are some essential reads here, but I imagine these might prove interesting to anyone with an interest in municipal politics, city planning, and the reason the Leafs always seem to suck.

I've compiled links to and excerpts from these three excellent reads here for Real Johnson readers.

How Toronto Lost Its Groove
And why the rest of Canada should resist the temptation to cheer
By John Lorinc
From The Walrus

"[...] [A]s many of the world’s other megacities, including regional rivals like Boston and Chicago, prepare for an era of breakneck global urban expansion, Toronto persists in thinking small and acting cheap. Should the rest of Canada care? Yes, because the GTA is the country’s economic hub, accounting for one-fifth of its gross domestic product; New York, by contrast, produces just 3.3 percent of the United States’ national income. Canadian politicians typically refuse to acknowledge the importance to the country of its largest metropolis, opting instead to pander to provincial anti-Toronto sentiments. But tens of billions more in tax revenues flow out of the GTA than come back in the form of services and public sector investment, which means GTA wealth subsidizes government services across Canada, including health care and social security. So whether they love or loathe Toronto, all Canadians have a stake in its well-being. If Toronto fails, all Canadians will feel the pain."

Toronto: The Worst Sports City in the World
By Stephen Marche
From Grantland

"The problem with hockey in Toronto is the nostalgia that dominates how the game is played and consumed here. More than winning, Torontonians love the style of old-time hockey, a spirit of straightforwardness, brotherly violence, and what for lack of a better word I will call "not-fancyness." Hockey commentators here love nothing more than explaining how hockey games are won by cycling the puck, driving at the net, ugly goals. "They don't look pretty, but they win games." They love saying that."

Rob Ford Can’t Fight City Hall
His enemies roused, his brother a liability, Canada’s toughest mayor comes undone
by Nicholas Köhler
From Macleans

"Ford, who secured an improbable election win by promising to deliver a stripped-down Toronto—one free of graffiti, a Toronto of roads, perhaps some police, lower taxes and little else—has been stopped in his tracks by the city’s old order. His story is a morality tale that plays more like farce. It would be funny if it were not such a powerful lesson in the staying power of civic vested interests and the Sisyphean challenge of changing a city."

An Open Letter to Harold Camping from "Family Radio"

2011-10-15T07:00:00.000-04:00

from:	The Real Johnson
to:	familyradio@familyradio.org, info@familyradio.org, international@familyradio.org
date:	Fri, Oct 7, 2011 at 11:47 PM
subject:	October 21st

Harold Camping
President
Family Radio
c/o Family Stations Inc.
290 Hegenberger Road
Oakland, CA 94621

Dear Mr. Camping,

I notice on the website for your organization, Family Radio, that you have recently added something of an explanation regarding the fact that the rapture did not occur on May 21st as you predicted it would.

Please allow me to thank you for clearing this up, as it was with great alarm that I realized, back in May, that the world had not in fact come crashing down around me and the true believers had not risen to join God in heaven.

I write today not just to thank you for clearing that up, but also because, back in May, in preparation for the rapture, I did away with a lot of my worldly possessions.

You see, for reasons we don’t need to get into here, it’s pretty certain that I will not, in fact, be among those true believers who will be saved on the day of the rapture.

And so, knowing that the world was going to end, I spent virtually everything I had; assuming that I’d have no need for it as I’d soon be annihilated along with the entire physical world and the rest of those not fortunate enough to be saved.

Please be sure that I’m not writing to place any blame with you for your false prediction—indeed, I’ve seen your website and noted that you simply misinterpreted the use of a word in the bible and that the “rapture” that was to occur on May 21st was actually just an “earthquake.”

I am not angry. Christ teaches us to forgive and I forgive you for your simple oversight—a clerical error, really.

Like I said, I did not write to you to complain that I spent all my savings in Vegas because I assumed the world was about to end because of your prediction. That’s not what this is about.

Instead, I’m writing to tell you that I am thrilled to learn that you have discovered that the rapture will actually occur on October 21st! What a relief to know that the preparations of those who are saved (‘the elected’ as you call them) were not in vain and that they will still be raptured! I am really truly happy for you and all the elected who will be united in God’s greatness in heaven. That’s going to be really nice for you all.

But, before you go, I thought I might propose something.

Given that it’s an inarguable fact that I will not be among those heading up to see the big guy (again, let’s not get into the reasons why—let’s just say Wild Turkey and prescription pills are a bad mix at a sporting event), why not let me take care of those left behind?

What I mean is that, in the hours, or maybe even days, that it’s going to take God to trash the place, things could get pretty sketchy down here. Why don’t you and I make some plans to try to make things as pleasant as possible for those heathens that aren’t worthy of salvation?

I mean sure, there’s going to be some real turds left down here, but as God gets into destroying the entire earth, it’s probably going to get unpleasant down here. And who’s to say that everyone doesn’t deserve a chance to die with dignity, right?

And so with this in mind I propose that you, Family Radio, and all the other confirmed elected, leave me all your worldly possessions so that I might ensure that everyone else’s last days are as comfortable as possible as you guys head up to the eternal VIP room, as it were.

Clearly, given your explanation that May 21st was just the beginning of the last five months (totally makes sense btw), it is with certainty that you tell your flock that October 21st is judgement day, so what possible use could you have for your possessions and savings?

May as well send it all to me.

I’m going to level with you, Harold, I’ve done some pretty bad stuff in my life; I wouldn’t mind a shot at redemption on my way out.

So why not shoot me a cheque, and I’ll use it to make sure that the “unsaved” (or as many of them as I can round up in the Greater Toronto Area), have a decent send-off? Nothing too wild, you know? Given the solemnity of the occasion I’d make sure it was something tasteful—nice, but still a fun, appropriate send-off—financed by you and the other saved who, obviously, no longer have any use for your worldly possessions or finances.

I’m sure you’ll be on board with this idea, I mean after all, doesn’t the bible say “if there is a poor man among your brothers, do not be hardhearted or tightfisted toward your poor brother?”

Because let me tell you, brother, I am broke!

Again, not blaming you for the money thing, that one’s on me and Vegas. I'm just saying, I'd love to this thing myself, but things are a little tight since the last "rapture" and, well, not to put too fine a point on this, you won’t need your money after October 21st, right?

Anyway, please get back to me ASAP. I imagine that, when word gets out about the end of the world a lot of the good caterers, venues, and live music acts in the city will start to get booked up and I want to get on this.

Let’s have a beer or lunch so we can exchange details and we can figure out how to get all your savings to me (maybe you have paypal or something?).

Look forward to hearing from you!

Sincerely,

~Johnson

The Ten Best TV Shows of The Last 20 Years

2011-10-10T19:20:00.000-04:00

Just to cut to the chase, and before you scroll down to see what number one is, the best TV show of all time is The Sopranos.

There's no argument.

As I write this, I have just finished watching the entire series through for the third time (over the course of a few weeks, at leisure, not in some crazy capicola-fueled marathon) and it has only further confirmed that there has never been a show this good on television and there hasn't been since.

The Sopranos has everything: obviously crime, drama, violence, and sex but also philosophy, psychology, politics and a ridiculously wicked streak of dark humour. The Sopranos changed the way people think about television and elevated the one-hour television drama to an art form. It would be difficult to find, over the course of the series' 86 episodes, one single episode that didn't stand on its own as a succinct and satisfying viewing experience in and of itself - essentially, each its own quality one-hour movie. And yet the series as a whole developed some of the richest story lines and most complex characters in the history of television.

Hundreds of critics (thousands?) have analyzed and praised the show, university courses have been devoted to its analysis, and The New York Times once called it "The greatest work of popular culture of the past quarter century," so I'm not going to bother getting too much into the myriad reasons this is the smartest and most accomplished show on television, I'm just going to state unequivocally that it is and move on to the rest of the list.

Mad Men
You probably saw this one coming, but for my money if there's any show that comes remotely close to the level of The Sopranos, it's AMC's Mad Men. It's got an almost ridiculous attention to detail for recreating the early 1960s and everything from the books in Don Draper's office to what the weather was on the actual day they're attempting to portray is meticulously researched. It's got all the same rich character development of The Sopranos but deals with themes of early 60s gender equality, office politics, pop culture and the advertising world at the dawn of a very interesting era in media. Plus it's just so sexy to look at.

It probably helps the show's awesomeness that the show's creator, Matthew Weiner served as a writer and executive producer on seasons five and six of The Sopranos and that a number of Sopranos writers and production staff migrated with Weiner, but this show is without a doubt the greatest show currently on TV (whenever the hell it returns). Random sidenote: It would be pretty sweet to be Matthew Weiner. Apparently he's got eight Emmy Awards and three Golden Globes and was named one of Time magazine's 100 Most Influential People of 2011. And he knows Christina Hendricks.

Deadwood
This is probably the grittiest and nastiest television show that has ever existed. I don't imagine it's too popular with most ladies, but if you like a show that simultaneously manages to be about politics, the settling of early American communities, and violent conflict--along with filthy dudes drinking excessive amounts of whiskey, gambling, whoring, and occasionally beating each other to death with their bare hands, then this is the show for you. And it's also peppered with the most liberal use of the word "fuck" in the history of popular culture. Unfortunately there are only three seasons of Deadwood. It eventually ceased to exist simply because it was far too awesome.

30 Rock/Community

These two shows represent contemporary scripted television comedy at its absolute finest. Probably no other show (ever) has more jokes per minute than 30 Rock and both shows are self-referential television that manage to be witty and cerebral while simultaneously never taking themselves too seriously. With myriad pop-culture references, self-deprecating mockery of the genre's conventions, and a generally nerdy inside-jokism, 30 Rock and Community are television shows for people that like to watch funny television not only because they are funny, but also because they clearly understand and respect the history of other funny television shows.

Where Community falls somewhat short of 30 Rock in terms of its brilliant writing (hardly an insult considering the heights 30 Rock has reached), it more than makes up for it with ingenuity. Obvious examples of Community's spectacular willingness to try new things are the claymation episode and the epic, two-part, season two finale that paid homage to not only Star Wars but also Sergio Leone Westerns.

The Simpsons

Unless you have never seen the show before (in which case, please kill yourself), I find it hard to imagine that too many days go by where you don't either use or hear some tidbit gleaned from the ridiculously pervasive writing of The Simpsons. Who hasn't reacted to bad news with a resounding "boo-urns?" Expressed happiness by noting that "Everything is coming up Milhouse?" Spelled smart "S-M-R-T?"

With the possible exception of Seinfeld, which I'll get to, no show in history has simultaneously reflected popular culture and changed it as much as The Simpsons.

Click Milhouse's head to read
The Real Hipster's argument
for the Best. Episode. Ever.

Regardless of what you may think of the show and its recent seasons, The Simpsons is without a doubt one of the smartest and most ground-breaking comedies that has ever been on television. And with "D'oh" and "meh" as official entries in the dictionary, The Simpsons has literally changed the way we speak. I'm confident a person could make a pretty cromulent argument that no other show in history has had such an impact on our collective popular culture.

Seinfeld/Curb Your Enthusiasm
I don't really think I need to exert much of an effort in order to explain why Seinfeld, arguably the most successful show in the history of television, needs to be on this list. It somehow managed to create a style that seemed brand new while also presenting humour that spoke to that absurdity in everyday social situations that has been around since the dawn of social interaction.

Despite the regretful fact that its massive success spawned the co-opting and poor replication of the style into all manner of "white-single-people-spout-pithy-dialogue" (ahem, Friends), Seinfeld deserves a spot at the top of every "Best of" television list for being such a game changer—and, obviously, for being brilliantly written and hilarious.

That increasingly absurd and awkward side of Seinfeld in the brilliant writing was due if not entirely than certainly mostly, to the uber-neurosis of the show's co-creator, Larry David. Thus, it would be difficult to list Seinfeld on this list without also listing Curb Your Enthusiasm. Indeed, Curb seems like the natural progression of the Seinfeld comedic aesthetic: at the height of the show's popularity, when virtually everything the show and its creators touched turned to gold, the show ended, to emerge later as a far more grown-up, slightly darker, and more awkward portrayal of the semi-fictional life of Larry David. You could never have one without the other, and so both make the list.

Survivor

I imagine this will be the most controversial choice on this list and I understand the hesitancy to include a "reality" show among the ten best television shows of all time. However, I've argued this show's merit at length previously (here, in Five Reasons Survivor is One of The Best Shows on TV) and I stand by those claims. Survivor is really the first reality show and while you may think that earns it a notorious place in history for ushering in some of the shittiest and exploitative elements in the history of pop culture, it doesn't change the fact that Survivor is simply one of the most entertaining programs on TV. It's got virtually every kind of drama and conflict and, of course, everyone is basically in their underwear. Plus it's "real;" meaning I'm aware that the footage can be edited to manipulate the storyline, but it's still the actions, words, and images of actual people and not actors. There's still something fascinating about Survivor to me, even 10 plus years later.

The Office/Parks and Recreation

No show tackled the monotony of the administrative life that a majority of North Americans live every day from 9 to 5 better than The Office. The Office, with it's long, awkward pauses and Steve Carell's I-can't-even-watch inappropriateness, captured that sort of quiet desperation of office-life perfectly and united us in the laughs. The Office was a sort of means for the collective TV-watching middle class to say, "Oh fuck, everyone's work is like this? Oh good. I was about to bring my toaster in the bath tub."
Heading into its eighth season, it is still one of the few shows on television that routinely makes me laugh out loud; however, while it still easily commands a spot on this list, I will admit that The Office might be slipping a touch in terms of its brilliance these past few seasons. And with the departure of the man who epitomized the show's mood, it isn't unreasonable to suggest the show might be on its last legs.

Which is part of the reason Parks and Recreation is here, too. Seemingly poised to take up the mantle of "that modern workplace" comedy, Parks and Recreation seems to do everything The Office does, but better. They've taken the monotony and desperation up a notch by placing the action in the most mundane workplace imaginable--a municipal bureaucracy. They not only build on the improvisational style of both shows, but they seem to champion it, often having characters run multiple punchlines and rambling lists. And finally Parks and Recreation's cast comprises a hilarious and mostly fresh-faced group helmed by the absolutely brilliant and hilarious Amy Poehler.

Bonus Awesomeness: Ron Swanson, played on Parks and Recreation by Nick Offerman, was once tasked with giving the opening words at an art show. This was his speech.

Sidebar: The End of The British Office vs. American Office Bullshit
Anyone still clinging to the idea that the British Office holds any sort of superiority over the American version is simply being pretentious. Sure, in the first season of Steve Carell's version, one might argue that the show didn't have much to offer as it rehashed the exact same story lines as its predecessor. However brilliant it might have been though, the British Office was short-lived. It was 12 episodes long and then it was over. The American version, entering its own eighth season and still pretty funny, has long since proven its merit. Those who still claim allegiance to the British version are probably those that call soccer "footie" and wear scarves with no coats. Stop it. You're just being a dick.

Louie

Simply for being the first and best show that is not only starring and written by a comedian, but that is also actually about comedy and the reasons people become comedians, for any lover of comedy, this show is must-watch television. Interspersed with Louis CK's stand-up, Louie is equal parts hilarious, endearing, depressing, and gross--in short, it's got all the ingredients necessary for great comedy.

Louis CK is a funny guy (obviously) and he probably could have made a show that was "just" hilarious. Instead, CK decided to include parts in Louie that are shockingly real and achingly earnest, and in so doing created a show that exposes the weird insecurities that make most stand-up comedians tic.

There are episodes of Louie that are so very dark ("God" from season one wherein a doctor gives a young Louie a graphic and medically accurate account of the the crucifixion, "Eddie" from season two wherein an old friend living in his car explains he has nothing to live for), that it's understandable how one might be put off.

There are also scenes which are awkward to the point of being cringe-worthy (e.g. anytime Louie talks masturbation--which is quite often).

But the brilliance of this show is that it does show everything. Those who know great comedy know that the best stuff is personal and Louie, a show where Louis CK holds nothing back, is intensely personal and, as a result, is a brilliant and hilarious television show.

The Wire
In an increasingly digital age, the argument could be made that the great stories of this century aren't being told on paper any more. As an English major, such talk makes me want to cut my wrists with the gilded edges of my copy of Beowulf in its original Old English.

However, if you wanted to show that the great American novel could in fact actually unfold on screen now, The Wire, with its intricate and complex narratives that traced five seasons of life on the streets of Baltimore, would most certainly be the strongest argument that it were possible.

With a story that mainly focused on the criminal drug industry in Baltimore and the police tasked with fighting it, The Wire served as a sort of sad and funny tribute to decline in America, weaving in the corruption of most of her institutions from the schools, to the unions, to public office, to the newspaper industry, and along the way it changed the classic American genre of the cop show. Which is to say nothing at all about being responsible for Omar, one of the greatest characters in the history of television.

Honourable Mentions:

Rome, Boston Legal, NYPD Blue, Cheers, Six Feet Under, OZ, Northern Exposure, Band of Brothers, Arrested Development, Flight of The Conchords, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Modern Family, Community, Tim and Eric Awesome Show Good Job, Six Feet Under, 24

Shows people will argue should be on this list that really shouldn't:

Dexter, Breaking Bad, The Walking Dead, Lost, Heroes, South Park, Californication, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Star Trek, Freaks and Geeks, Battlestar Galactica, True Blood

An Open Letter to the Old Man at the Gym Who Has the Same Underwear as Me

2011-10-06T07:00:00.000-04:00

Dear Old Man at the Gym Who Has the Same Underwear as Me,

I'd like to sincerely apologize for the events that transpired today. I'm aware that my conduct was inappropriate and I feel like I probably had an adverse effect on your day.

Clearly, by pointing to the area near my penis, looking at you, and shouting, "Hey!" I have broken not only a number of general gym-etiquette rules, but also an unspoken understanding that you and I have always shared as we spend that little part of our daily routine together in various stages of undress.

Judging by your reaction, which would probably best be described as abject terror as you recoiled and shouted "What's that?!" I feel like the act of breaking the notable silence this morning may have been itself enough to cause you alarm—which is to speak nothing of the obvious implication that my actions were clearly confusing and, in all honesty, probably not dissimilar to a ridiculously lazy sexual advance.

I'd like to take this opportunity to repeat what I stated in a red-faced monotone this morning: I was simply pointing out that we were wearing the same pair of Old Navy boxers.

Furthermore, I'd like to clarify that it was not my intention to frighten or discomfort you, and I am not now, nor have I ever been, a rapist who preys on older men.

I sincerely hope today’s events do not effect our established routine in the future and I would like to hereby commit to returning to a mutually understood definition of our relationship which has always been built on a solid foundation of polite smile-nods and barely audible "excuse mes" when the situation absolutely demands it.

Again, my apologies.

Sincerely,

Johnson

Addendum: Getting Rejected Because of an Old Man's Balls

If you read this blog with any sort of regularity, you'll recall that this incident was already the topic of a blog post entitled Lesson Learned which was posted July 27, 2011.

Well, in an attempt to be published online on McSweeney's Internet Tendency, specifically their regular feature Open Letters to People or Entities Who Are Unlikely to Respond, I converted the previous post into just that, the open letter you just read.

To my chagrin, however, my letter was rejected based on the grounds that they already ran "another old-guy-at-the-gym-themed letter a little while ago and it set a pretty high bar."In the interest of being thorough, I therefore also present a link to that letter, entitled, An Open Letter to The Gentleman Blow-Drying His Balls in The Gym Locker Room, written by someone called Ross Beeley.

Kudos to you, Mr. Beeley.

Dr. Johnson: Spilled Beer, Racial Tension, and Old Friends

2011-10-03T07:00:00.000-04:00

It it time once again for me to answer some letters written to Carolyn Hax of The Washington Post me.

Dear ~~Carolyn~~ Dr. Johnson:

A group of my best guy friends go out to eat. The waiter brings us another round and accidentally drenches one of the guys by spilling a beer. She apologizes and brings another drink. The waiter then brings a restaurant T-shirt along with the check and apologizes again. The waiter had credited the check a decent amount because of the spill, without removing specific items. Fighting over payment ensues.

Should the beer-drenched friend get a free pass? Or should he pay his fraction of the bill?The guys who wanted to spread the discount argued that the victim was only a bystander; the victim’s meal was not specifically removed from the check. The table’s check was simply credited an amount of money.The victim, without anyone on his side, argued that he should be compensated, as he was the only one physically affected.

Divided

Dear Divided,

You don't get to share his compensation. If your friend got hit by a car would you expect him to share any money he received in a settlement? Without a doubt the guy who got spilled on gets a free beer. Evidently he also got a free lesson about what cheap bastards you and his other friends are.

Dear ~~Carolyn~~ Dr. Johnson,

My wife and I are parents to two beautiful, wonderful kids, 6 and 2, both adopted at birth. I am estranged from my family, who did not want us to adopt an African American baby (my wife is Caucasian and I’m Asian American). So, for the past six-plus years, I have not seen my parents nor have they met their grandkids.It’s not as awful as it sounds — I’ve never had a happy family life and in many ways my life is better off this way, as cold as that sounds.

My wife’s family has been superb in providing a loving, nurturing environment for our kids.Anyway, my 6-year-old is starting to ask questions about my parents. I don’t want him to take away from our talk that he was the cause of the estrangement, that it’s his fault. Thank you for any help!

Explaining not-so-nice grandparents

Dear Explaining,

Just tell your kid that your folks don't come around because your wife is white.

Dear ~~Carolyn~~ Johnson:

My mom’s in her late 50s, otherwise very intelligent, except she disregards basic safety advice that even a 5-year-old knows! She has a key under the front doormat, and ignores my advice to hide it in a better place (or, better yet, not leave one out at all). Worse, she’ll take the dog out for walks at night, dressing in nothing but her nightgown with a coat thrown over it, and leave the front door unlocked.

I caution her that anybody could just walk in the house and be there waiting for her, but she insists she “would see them.” Sometimes, I’ll stop by the house and find the door unlocked and the windows open . . . and nobody home! Finally, she refuses to lock her car doors when she drives around, which not only enables carjackers easy access but is also unsafe in an accident.

She says I’m “paranoid” and that “nothing will ever happen.” Daily, on the news, I see reports of older women being sexually assaulted or killed, with the attacker gaining access to their homes through unlocked doors.I’ve gone from asking nicely to literally begging her to follow some basic safety rules. I told her, even if SHE doesn’t care, my sister and I do, and we’re the ones who would have to live with the trauma for the rest of our lives if anything happened to her.

She finally said she was going to “buy a gun” and that would keep her safe, but I say she’d be more likely to shoot somebody else by mistake, and that it would make more sense to take basic precautions.So, Carolyn, any advice? I know she’s an adult and can make her own choices, but I wish she’d make better ones.

Worried about my mom

Dear Worried,

This is a question that hits close to home for me. I actually keep a weapon beside my bed and it has often been the cause for question, alarm, and ridicule among some of my friends that don't get why there would be a length of wood by my bed.

My reaction to them is that it only takes one crackhead crashing through your plate glass window like some kind of urban, drugged-out zombie for you to realize you probably should have been more careful.

Most of the time, they just don't understand.

And so, like I've done with my friends from time to time, you need to make your mother understand.

Organize a group of five or six of your male friends - the larger the better - and take them all to Home Depot or some other similar home renovation store with a diverse selection of products. While you're there, outfit the whole gang with balaclavas, coveralls and lumberjack jackets. The goal is to make them look as menacing as possible.

Then, head on over to the hardware department and pick up some crude but effective weapons. Large hammers, axe handles, scary look cables etc. (and don't skimp! This is your mom were talking about after all - she's worth it!).

Find a time when your mom is out walking the dog and take the whole gang to her place.

Wait for her in the dark.

When mom comes home, she's going to get the surprise of her life as you and six friends completely destroy her home with viscous and terrifying abandon.

But don't stay too long! The effectiveness of this attack is it's randomness and lightning speed. Take off quickly and then never mention it to anyone.

I guarantee your mom will take crime more seriously after that.

*definitely do not do this if your mom has already purchased that gun.

Dear ~~Carolyn~~ Dr. Johnson:

I like people and make friends easily. However, over the past couple of years, I have been “weeding out” friends who haven’t really been that great friends to me. Mostly, I have done this intentionally after I felt I was always going above and beyond, without getting anything similar from them.

Also, with a baby and full-time career, I find it hard to make time for the people in my life as is. However, I do think about my old friends often and wonder how they are doing. It makes me sad that we have lost touch. I choose not to reconnect with them because I don’t want to get hurt/mad again.So, how can I come to peace with the fact that, yes, they were once part of my life but not anymore, without feeling like a mean, vindictive person?

Friendster

Dear Friendster,

This may come as a shock, but The Real Johnson doesn't really have a lot of "friends" either. Sure, I have plenty of acquaintances, but probably only a handful of friends.

I think you may be confusing the two. Friends are the people who would help you move a body. Friends are the people that you allow to take beer from your fridge because you know it will always be reciprocated. Friends are the dudes (and chicks) with whom you can get to the bottom of a bottle without saying much and it isn't awkward.

The people you're "missing" are clearly just acquaintances. And there's no reason you can't go out and grab a beer with an acquaintance from time to time to catch up. Just don't rely on them for favours and don't extend them any.

However, it seems to me that you're really just curious about what they're up to now. So just add them on facebook and creep the shit out them. That's pretty much what it's for.

Dear ~~Carolyn~~ Johnson:

I am in love with a man and have been for a few years now. We have been seeing one another for a long time. The problem is, he has been going with a woman I work with and who lives in the same complex as I do. She thinks we are just friends because that is what he has told her, but it has been romantic for a long time.

He sneaks over here when he gets the opportunity, and we do sleep together. Yet when I ask him to take me out in public, he uses excuses and he never asks me to do anything. He is very attached to my daughter, and at times I use that, I admit it. He is even paying for her first car. I don’t know what to do anymore. Should I tell this other woman? Or should I just leave things alone and just be happy I even have this much of him? He does tell me he “thinks” he loves me, maybe things will work out. Please print this; maybe it will help other women in my situation.

Upstate New York

Dear Upstate,

It sounds to me like you are what the French call une petite whore. He doesn't take you out in public and he tells you he "thinks" he loves you? Wake up, whore: You are the other woman.Either accept the fact that the odd shag and some monetary compensation like a car are enough for you, or stop nailing some other lady's dude and move on.

And no, don't tell the other chick. You knew he was taken when you started letting him dick you, there's no need to ruin her life too.

Thanks for writing!

~Johnson

The Real Johnson answers selections from Washington Post columnist Carolyn Hax's mail ~~every Thursday afternoon~~ from time to time.

WINNER: The Real Johnson Caption Contest (NSFW edition)

2011-10-01T07:00:00.001-04:00

Congratulations to the winner of out most recent Caption Contest, Spitz.

Spitz, you are now entitled to proudly display the badge below on your own blog, as your facebook profile picture or even, as one intrepid fan once did, tattoo it on your ass.

Special thanks to guest judge Hell's Pell who stepped in because I ~~just didn't give a shit~~ couldn't choose one caption among all that hilarity!!!

Congratulations, Spitz. You are a Real Johnson Caption Master.

"Amid the ongoing financial crisis in the united states, World Bank ups the ante and proposes not only a free gun with every account opening but also a Whore."

Original Post:

Man, I haven't done one of these in a long, long time. Which is really dumb of me because it's a genuinely popular feature of The Real Johnson, super simple for me to write, and one that usually gets a good amount of comments. So, yeah, I'm dumb.

And so, to make up for neglecting this popular feature, I figured I'd make it up to you with a double crowd pleaser: Titties and Guns! Woo hoo.

If you're new here, all you need to do is post a witty caption to the image below as a comment. The funniest comment will be crowned a Real Johnson Caption Master and AND will be legally entitled to post this fantastic badge of honour to their own blog or facebook profile.

Also be sure to "like" any of the other comments you "like." The amount of "likes" received might just sway my preference (really I'll just pick my favourite).

Oh and, what the hell, the winner will also receive something amazing in the mail from me* if they're willing to send me their address.

So what are you waiting for? Tell me...

What the heck is going on here?

*prize may or may not be amazing.

Taxes Actually Are Not Cancer

2011-09-27T07:00:00.000-04:00

As the provincial election in Ontario looms, a new study released by Jason Pendegrass, Professor of Economics at the University of Omaha, threatens to damage the platform of Progressive Conservative leader Tim Hudak. The study notes that, despite the tone of much of the provincial PC's platform, taxes, it seems, aren't actually cancer.

"There is absolutely no evidence," notes Pendegrass, "that taxes are the same thing as the horribly damaging class of diseases known as cancer."

During a rapidly heating-up election campaign that's already seen current Premier, Dalton McGuinty, labelled the "tax man" and a campaign that is hailing Hudak's enthusiasm to rid Ontario of taxes, it is easy for the Ontario voter to assume that taxes are actually cancer.

"It turns out," continues Pendegrass, "that cancer is actually a term for a group of diseases that create uncontrolled growth as well as cell and tissue damage in living things, whereas taxes are actually a fee imposed by various government entities. The two concepts are not even remotely the same."

Furthermore, the study goes on to note that taxes may often even be beneficial. In fact, taxes, it seems, are generally used to pay for things that benefit taxpayers. These items may include roads, public schools, law enforcement agencies and a plethora of beneficial--even necessary--programs and services. In Canada, taxes are even used in such a way as to provide the entire country with healthcare, protect the environment, and improve the education of the country's children.

The news that taxes are not cancer is expected to come as a considerable shock to a majority of Ontario's conservative voters. It is still unclear however, given his campaign promises to remove the HST, cut income taxes, and cancel the eco-tax, how this news might effect Ontario PC hopeful Tim Hudak.

A Guide To Wearing An Anklet

2011-09-24T07:00:00.000-04:00

Just don't.

.

Dr. Johnson: Skype, Long Distance Relationships, and Texting Other Guys

2011-09-19T07:00:00.000-04:00

It it time once again for me to answer some letters written to Carolyn Hax of The Washington Post me.

Dear ~~Carolyn~~ Dr. Johnson,

I have 2-year-old daughter (almost 3). My mother lives several states away but we Skype fairly regularly; she rarely visits in person. My mom has always been very focused on looks — I grew up feeling unattractive — and now she has turned her attention to my daughter, saying things during our Skyping discussions like, “She’s too fat. She needs to exercise every day. And she needs plastic surgery on her nose.”

My daughter is an adorable and perfectly normal girl. I’m afraid she might start understanding these things soon and I want to protect her. I’ve tried telling my mother that it’s not acceptable, and I cut short the call when she starts in, but what else can I do?

Upset

Dear Upset,

Fight fire with fire. Arm your daughter with some similar sentiments about your mother. This way your mom will know how shitty it feels. Plus, it will be even more disarming coming from a two year-old when she tells your mother that she has a turkey neck. Try getting your daughter to ask grandma why her hair is so thin or why her clothes are so dated and shitty.

Of course, if you don't want to teach your daughter to focus on looks, try other little comments that will remind your mother of her place in the pecking order (i.e. the generation on their way out). For example, next time you Skype, the three of you might play "how many birthdays do we have left."

Spend the conversation standing up and sitting down with ease and explain to your daughter why grandma can't do that.

Maybe your daughter can let it slip that you spent the day shopping for grandma's coffin.

That ought to shut the old bag up.

Failing that, tell granny you're done skyping her and just call her on the fucking phone from now on.

Dear ~~Carolyn~~ Dr. Johnson:

Boyfriend doesn’t want to propose till we know what it’s like to live in the same city (we’ve been long-distance for over two years). I’m unwilling to leave my job and move without the guarantee of an engagement. He can’t move because of a four-year work commitment. What now?

Frustrated

Dear frustrated,

"Till?"

What the hell is that? Your boyfriend doesn't want to propose cash register you know what it's like to live in the same city?

"Till" can be a German first name. It is a word for glacier sediment. It also means a collection of seeds. What the word "till" isn't however, is a short form for the word "until."

If you want to say until, then say until. If your time is really so precious that you can't utter two syllables, then at the very least write it as 'til.

Also, your boyfriend is just making excuses because he doesn't actually love you - likely because you use the word "till."

Dear ~~Carolyn~~ Dr. Johnson:

I am seeing this girl, and it’s one of those things where I never thought she would be with me. She is very beautiful, and everything I have ever wanted.

We had a fight, and I told her if she wanted me she would come back to me, and, well, she did. She is always texting other guys, but won’t tell me who, and says they are just friends. She always says she could have anybody she wants, but she chose me.

At times I feel like she is just playing me, but I’m not sure, and when I ask her if I’m the only one, her response is, “You should know.” When a guy texts her she gets this look, like, oh no, and hides her phone, but if it’s anyone else she shows me. She says I have to trust her, but how can I when I don’t know what she is doing, or what she and these guys talk about? Could you help me?

Dear Unsure,

Bro, you need to dump that bitch.

~Johnson

This week's Ask Dr. Johnson column featured the original artwork of Toronto artist and animator, Paul Aihoshi. Check out his YouTube channel.

The Real Johnson answers selections from Washington Post columnist Carolyn Hax's mail ~~every Thursday afternoon~~ from time to time.

Remembering 9/11

2011-09-13T07:00:00.000-04:00

A lot of writers tried on Sunday to capture the essence of American sentiment on the sombre occasion that was the anniversary of 9/11.

People wrote poignant essays about the aftermath of those events ten years later and writers the world over opined on the complex ways America, the world, and international politcs have changed since.

No one, however, truly captured the spirit of the 10th anniversary of September 11th like Mark Kriegel, national columnist for FOXSports.com.

Kriegel, opening his round-up of Sunday's NFL action in his column for FOXSports.com yesterday morning noted:

What better way to celebrate all that is unconquerable about this country than an NFL game, with recreational vehicles, beer and smoking meat in the parking lots, a festival of corporate sponsorship and high-def hitting. This is the American Way, all of it a mighty, immodest rebuke to the terrorists.

Only managing to work in imagery of Kid Rock driving a tank covered with strippers through a bald eagle sanctuary could have made this beautiful tribute even more poignant.

God bless you, Mark Kriegel.

Jay-Z and Kanye West's "Otis" Explained

2011-09-11T07:00:00.000-04:00

When Jay-Z and Kanye West released "Watch The Throne," it was instantly a hit record. It debuted at number one on the Billboard Top 200 and sold 436,000 copies in the US in its first week. It even sold 290,000 digital copies in its first week via iTunes.

However, I'm just not sure that Jay-Z and Kanye are reaching everyone they could be with their music.

And so, in an effort to help these two struggling musicians, I thought I might help bring their tunes to a wider audience by opening it up to an audience that perhaps doesn't really "get" rap music. I propose doing this by explaining the lyrics to the first single from the album, "Otis."

If you find you like what you hear now that you understand what they're saying, why not give "Watch The Throne" a download. Help support young musicians.

Thank you.

[Jay-Z]

I invented swag. Poppin’ bottles, puttin’ supermodels in the cab, proof.

I invented "swag." I might be referring to either a short form for "swagger" or I could be refering to the free luxury items sometimes given to celebrities. Given my considerable cockiness and my worship of material goods, both explanations are possible.

I like "poppin' bottles" because I can afford and I enjoy drinking champagne. Similarly, I frequently take supermodels home with me, ostensibly to make love. This is "proof" of my "swag."

I guess I got my swagger back, truth

I am back on top with a new record and I am feeling cocky and confident.

New watch alert, Hublot’s

Attention everyone! I have purchased a new watch. It is a Hublot. A very expensive item with prices ranging from seven thousand dollars to over 200 thousand.

Or the big face Rollie I got two of those.

I also own two large-faced Rolexes. I am very wealthy.

Arm out the window through the city I maneuver slow

When I drive in the city, I do so slowly and with my arm out the window, probably so that I can show off the thousands of dollars in timepieces I am sporting.

Cock back, snap back, See my cut through the holes

I have no idea what this means. I might be making a football analogy, referencing moving my car through the street like a running back spotting holes. It could also be something about a drive by shooting. Often when there's something you don't quite understand in rap music it has something to do with guns.

[Kanye]
Damn Yeezy and Hov. Where the hell ya been?

Gosh Kanye West and Jay-Z, it's been sometime since you released any music. Where have you been?

Niggas talkin real reckless: stuntmen

Other rappers have been bragging about how awesome they are, a dangerous act akin to taking risks like a Hollywood stunt man given how awesome me and Jay-Z are.

I adopted these niggas, Phillip Drummond ‘em

I took these young black man in much like Philip Drummond, the rich white Park Avenue businessman on Diff'rent Strokes, took in Willis and Arnold.

Now I’m bout to make them tuck they whole summer in

Because Jay-Z and I have a tendency to release smash hits in the summer (Jay-Z in particular), these other rappers need to be careful how much they brag this summer as they'll look foolish compared to the actually massive hits that Jay-Z and I will be producing.

They say I’m crazy, well, I’m ’bout to go dumb again

I am crazy. Have you ever heard me talk in public? Yeah, I'm crazy. This album is going to be crazy good.

They ain't see me cause I pulled up in my other Benz. Last week I was in my other other Benz

They didn't see me coming because I pulled up in my second Mercedes Benz. Last week I was in my third Mercedes Benz. I'm so wealthy that I have at least three Mercedes Benzes.

Throw your diamonds up cause we in this bitch another ‘gain

Put your jewelry-covered hands into the air in a gesture of happiness because we are back making making music.

[Jay-Z]
Photo shoot fresh, looking like wealth. I’m ’bout to call the paparazzi on myself

I look so good it is as if I just came from some sort of high-fashion photo shoot. In fact, I might even call the annoying professional photographers who often follow celebrities just so that people can take pictures of how good I look.

Uh, live from the Mercer

Some of this album was recorded at the Mercer Hotel in New York city. This song is "live" from that location.

Run up on Yeezy the wrong way, I might merc ya

If you approach Kanye West too quickly or try to attack him, I might murder you, much like a mercenary.

Flee in the G450 I might surface

After I murder you, I'll flee in my Gulfstream 450, a private jet worth approximately $38.25 million.

Political refugee, asylum can be purchased
Uh, everything's for sale, I got 5 passports
I’m never going to jail

If it were the case that I murdered you because you ran up toward Kanye West too quickly, and I then fled in $38.25 million jet, I am so rich I could buy political asylum in a foreign country. I have five passports so I could continue fleeing and buying asylum (because I am so rich and awesome) and essentially never go to jail for murdering you.

[Kanye West]
I made “Jesus Walks” I’m never going to hell

Because I made the song "Jesus Walks" I've guaranteed myself a spot in heaven.

Couture level flow, it’s never going on sale

My rap skills are so good they would never be devalued, much like luxury clothing is very rarely on sale.

Luxury rap, the Hermes of verses

The high level of my rapping is akin to the fine quality of luxury goods provided by French clothing purveyor Hermes.

Sophisticated ignorance, write my curses in cursive

I enjoy the paradox that I am both high-brow and low-brow. I am clearly dumb and yet here I am in this very expensive clothing. It is like writing a swear word in fancy cursive writing.

I get it custom, you a customer

My clothing is custom made, whereas you are simply another customer in some retail store.

You ain’t ‘customed to going through Customs, you ain’t been nowhere, huh?

You aren't used to going through customs at the airport because you have not travelled anywhere.

And all the ladies in the house, got ‘em showing off

I can't think of something else to continue my semi-clever wordplay involving the words custom, customer and customs so instead I'll just say something vague about the fact that I am constantly surrounded by gorgeous women.

I’m done, I hit ya up maña-naaaa!

That's the end of my verse. I'll call you tomorr- no, I changed my mind. I'm so cool that I was only leading you on.

[Jay-Z]
Welcome to Havana
Smoking cubanos with Castro in cabanas

Because in the last verse I did I fled in my expensive plane and began purchasing political asylum in other countries, I am currently in Havana smoking the world's finest cigars with that country's dictator in multiple small houses.

Viva Mexico, Cubano
Dominicano, all the plugs that I know

Long live Mexico, Cubans, and Dominicans - all the various places that I know given my elaborate knowledge of drug trafficking.

Driving Benzes, wit’ no benefits

These drug dealers drive expensive cars; however, given the inherent illegality of their work, sadly they have no health benefits or pensions.

Not bad huh? For some immigrants

Still, all things considered, this isn't too bad considering that they are immigrants.

Build your fences, we diggin’ tunnels

The American government can try to build fences to keep illegal aliens out of the country, however we will dig tunnels in order to enter the country. We are very aggressive in our trafficking of drugs.

Can’t you see? We gettin’ money up under you

Like illegal drug-trafficking immigrants, I, Jay-Z, am getting my money by any means necessary despite efforts of established white America to stop me.

[Kanye]
Can’t you see the private jets flyin’ over you?

Again, I'd like to make sure that you understand that Jay-Z and I both own private jets.

Maybach bumper sticker read “What would Hova do?”

Furthermore, I own a Maybach, a German ultra-luxury car. The bumper sticker on this ridiculously expensive car reads "What would Hova [Jay-Z] do?" His ability to accumulate wealth makes him better than Jesus.

Jay is chillin’, ‘Ye is chillin’
What more can I say? We killin’ ‘em

We're both chilling. How much more do you need to know? We are simply doing really, really well for ourselves. Did we mention the jets and shit?

Hold up, before we end this campaign
As you can see, we done bodied the damn lames

Before we wrap this up, I'd just like to make it abundantly clear that we are much, much better than other rappers. Metaphorically speaking, we murdered them, turning them simply into dead bodies.

Lord, please let them accept the things they can’t change

In mock humility, I'm asking God to allow these other, lesser rappers, to accept the fact that they can't change the fact that we are just so much better than them.

And pray that all of their pain be champagne

I also hope that all of their pain isn't real pain, merely "sham" pain.

Why Rob Ford's Weight Is a Political Issue

2011-09-08T07:00:00.000-04:00

Unless you have been part of a sequestered jury or subject to some other court-mandated media ban, you are probably aware that Toronto recently elected a mayor who has been a bit controversial. Career politician Rob Ford was never one to shy away from controversy before he was mayor and he generated a laundry list of jaw-dropping gaffes during his time as a city councillor.

His election, sweeping victory, and subsequent first 11 months as mayor, however, have served to work Toronto's left wing--from social activists to cyclists--into a fine, frothing rage as he continues to do precisely what virtually everyone should have predicted he would do when he was elected (namely, continue acting like Rob Ford).

Since being elected, Rob Ford's city hall has spent over $400,000 to remove bike lanes that cost $59,000 to install, he has shunned Toronto's Pride festivities and he has ordered budget consultations that are considering, among other things, library closures, fire and police department layoffs, the elimination of 2,000 daycare subsidies, scrapping a program that funds 685 student nutrition programs, scrapping 42 AIDS prevention projects, cutting funding for 38 community drug prevention programs, closing the Toronto Environment Office, and even cutting Christmas Bureau, a program that distributes gifts and donations to needy children.

In short, Rob Ford has done plenty to draw valid criticism from the left and from people claiming that he doesn't have the city's long-term interests at heart (and this is to say nothing of his brother's recent public feud about the usefulness of libraries).

However, despite this plethora of rage-worthy mayoral activity, debates about Rob Ford are often undercut by some of his lazier critics with name-calling that tends to ignore the issues and generally lowers the level of discourse to that of mere personal attacks. I'm talking about the tendency of some of Rob Ford's critics to point out that Rob Ford is fat.

It's a common thing to find in the midst of any heated debate about Toronto municipal politics: Rob Ford fat jokes. They're virtually everywhere you might find an angry Toronto lefty, from graffiti to the comments sections of Toronto blogs to Facebook. These jokes are generally unfunny and rarely are they even remotely related to the actual matter being debated. These types of attacks on Mr. Ford's appearance have just as often been denounced by Ford supporters for being out-of-line and irrelevant as they have been denounced by Ford detractors for being off-topic and counter-productive. A more thoughtful political commentary, the refrain often goes, needn't attack a man's weight, but instead should focus on his politics and performance.

Except here's the thing: Rob Ford is fat. And it matters.

I mean he's really big. By his own admission, Rob Ford weighs at least 300 pounds. In my opinion, that is excessively, can't-blame-it-on-big-bones, dangerously fat. Rob Ford is of such bulk that I believe genetics alone are not to blame. You cannot brush Rob Ford's weight off by noting simply that he's "a big guy." Rob Ford's mass is such that I think it would be impossible not to assign him at least some of the blame for getting that big. Indeed, a story profiling Ford in MacLeans leading into the mayoral election opened with Ford digesting "a lot" of "roast beef and mashed potatoes" and similarly noted his weakness for root beer.

What I am trying to say is that I don't think Rob Ford is fat because he can't help it; I think Rob Ford is fat because he doesn't care about his health. And as citizens in the city which he governs, this should be cause for alarm. According to Health Canada,

[i]f you are overweight or obese, you may be at risk for a wide range of serious diseases and conditions including:
hypertension or high blood pressure;
coronary heart disease;
Type 2 diabetes;
stroke;
gallbladder disease;
osteoarthritis;
sleep apnea and other breathing problems;
some cancers such as breast, colon and endometrial cancer; and
mental health problems, such as low self-esteem and depression.
Obesity is one of the leading factors in heart disease and stroke, as well as in Type 2 diabetes, which affects an estimated 1.8 million Canadians.

I believe that the fact that our mayor is fat is actually relevant to the debate about his competency to do his duties. Not only does his risk for heart disease and stroke call into question his ability to actually remain physically healthy enough to act as mayor for an entire term, I think it also speaks to a level of personal irresponsibility and short-sightedness.

A person who would choose to ignore these health risks and instead continue to eat unhealthily and chug caffeine-filled energy drinks is showing little regard for his future. It stands to reason, therefore, that we might question this person's decision making when it comes to making sensible, long-term decisions regarding our city. I would argue that every time Rob Ford has a high-sugar beverage he is ignoring a plethora of facts which are readily available to him (the nutrition label on the can, statistics about diabetes and obesity, etc.) and, instead, he is making a choice to satisfy his more basic urges immediately with no regard for the consequences.

And so, when the debate turns to Rob Ford, his budget cuts, his disregard for cycling infrastructure, his funding cuts for social programs and his commitment to lasting, long-term solutions to the city's problems, it may seem inappropriate for someone to bring up the fact that he is a fat person, but I would argue, it is not irrelevant.

The Church of Hotdog: Revisited

2011-09-07T07:00:00.000-04:00

For no reason at all, I was recently reading some of my older posts and I stumbled upon the series, The Church of Hotdog, originally posted in October through December of 2009. For the sake of any new readers I might have who might be interested and because it is a very easy way to generate a massive post, I decided to compile the entire series here for you in one big post (is two years an appropriate amount of time to pass before shamelessly recycling material?).

Check out the Church of Hotdog or "Josh" series in chronological order and let me know what you think. If for some reason you really want to revisit the series as they were originally posted (with a handful of comments) you can also click here.

Josh
originally posted Friday October 16, 2009

So, it's not the usual Friday fare, but I had an incredibly weird lunch yesterday and thought I'd share.

I was busy at work on Thursday and didn't bring a lunch so I decided to just grab a street meat hot dog and eat while I worked. While I was waiting for my hot dog in the incredible cold (what the fuck is going on? Is this the coldest October ever?), this dude approached me who, frankly looked homeless. He said, "Good afternoon brother, my name is Josh." I started to dismiss him, assuming he was about to ask for money, but he didn't.

He just kept talking. I was pretty much ignoring him, but when I heard him say, "The desert is full of roaming, wild spirits," I started to listen, since my hot dog was taking a while, and clearly, this guy had some interesting things to say.

I'll spare you the details, but it seems Josh is from an immortal realm known as "Barbelo," a motherland beyond the stars. He also informed me that he is an "avatar" of Seth and the third little known son of Adam. He neglected to inform me who Seth or Adam were, but I'm sure they were also very cool dudes. He then told me that when the time comes, he will be the one to show the Sethians the way home.

Then my hot dog was ready. Anyway, this dude is pretty much always outside my building, so, if he's got more stuff like this to say, I'm pretty sure I'm going to make a point of talking with him as often as possible and recording the fantastic shit he says. I was thinking maybe we can form a religion around him and worship him. Let me know if you want in. Probably pretty lucrative to get in on these things on the ground floor.

Church of Hot Dog: Sexless mothers, Drag, and Foot Washing
originally posted Wednesday October 28, 2009

So I've been thinking about religion a lot lately. On Friday at work I was in a theological state of mind, so I decided it might be a good time to grab a hot dog and have another chat with my favourite crazy person, Josh (not Josh Reynolds...).

I was thinking about Buddhism specifically when I told the hot dog vendor, "Make me one with everything..."

He handed me my hot dog and I handed him a twenty. I waited a minute for my change, but he just said, "Change only comes from within."

Anyway, as he is every day, the crazy guy who hangs around near my office building was there (I feel bad calling this man a "crazy person" but I don't know what else to call him. Based on my few intense conversations with him, he's clearly not all there. I don't know if he's homeless or what. He's got longish hair and a beard, but he doesn't smell and his clothes, while decidedly out of fashion, always seem pretty clean. Anyway, maybe from now on I'll just call him "Josh." After all, that actually is his name). It was a pretty nice day today despite being October and because I had nothing but a pile of work waiting for me (and because, let's be honest, I wanted material for the blog), I decided to sit outside and chat with Josh while I ate my hot dog.

He certainly gave me some material to consider as I begin to establish what I'm sure will become a new religion based around him (I'm not sure if this will be called the Church of Josh, the Church of Hot Dog...more on that later).

But today's gems opened with the mind bending, "My mother never had sex."

I didn't have the guts to ask him how he thought that was possible.

We also discussed Halloween briefly because I'm still wondering what to be and whether or not I'll go out to a house party or to a bar. I was curious to see if Josh had an opinion on the matter. Surprisingly (Josh is usually quite opinionated when asked direct questions, usually answering "Fuck that," or "Hell yes"), he didn't have an opinion either way on what I should be or even if I should celebrate. However, when I told Josh that I now owned men's size 13 high heels (an expensive souvenir after having participated in the Walk A Mile In Her Shoes campaign), and said maybe I'd go in drag simply to get more use out of them, he told me that wearing women's clothes was an "abomination." He said this with a degree of conviction that made people walking past us visibly alarmed.

This brief and scary note on dressing in drag preceded a lecture on why Josh would never wear clothing made from blended fabrics. I'd transcribe it here if I could but it didn't make a lot of sense. It's best to just assume it's the right thing to do because Josh said it was.

At this point I had finished my hot dog and it was time to go back to work. This is when Josh offered to wash my feet.

I'm not joking. I can't remember exactly how he phrased it, but he literally offered to wash my feet for me. However, the offer was conditional on whether or not I would wash his in return (of course). Based solely on the state of Josh's footwear, I easily concluded this would be a much better deal for him than for me and so I had to decline.

We parted ways amicably, but now, more than ever, I feel strongly that I must eat hot dogs as often as I can stomach in order to pass the good word on to you. More to come, I promise.

Church of Hot Dog: Pigeons, Flattery, and Cows
originally posted Saturday November 21, 2009

As you could probably tell from my recent "People I'd Like To Punch" post, things have been a little hectic at work lately. Accordingly, yesterday I thought it was time for a little spiritual guidance.

Since I'm not a religious person, for me this means talking to the probably crazy, almost definitely homeless guy who hangs around the hot dog cart outside my office building.

Josh has literally become my little chapel break in the day when things get crazy. Something about the smell of hot dogs and insane ramblings is oddly calming and helps me get centered.

But today when I went outside, at first I couldn't see Josh. I was worried that maybe it had become too cold for Josh to hang around outside all day, but then I noticed that the hot dog vendor was looking up.

Off to the side of the cart, and halfway up a light post, there was Josh. I'm not sure how he got up there, but there he was. An average size dude with a shaggy beard clinging to a light post about four feet off the ground.

And that's not even the weird part.

He was clinging to the post at about eye level with the light (it's one of those posts that hooks over to the light part like an upside-down J). On top of the light part was a nest, complete with a decidedly flustered pigeon sitting on her nest; clearly alarmed by the sight of Josh, who was attempting to get a firm position.

Turns out that the pigeon had good cause to be alarmed because, once he was set, Josh reached out, shooed the bird away and plucked an egg out of her nest.

I'm not kidding.

While I was alarmed, my first thought was, "That's actually a pretty smart way to get food for a guy who most likely is homeless." I was beginning to contemplate how he would cook it, when I realized he wasn't coming down the post right away. Instead, Josh held the egg in his hand close to his chest for a second with his eyes closed, then put it back in the nest.

He slid down the post and adjusted his clothes and that was that.

The hot dog guy and I exchanged "What the fuck was that?" looks.

Then Josh saw me and greeted me. He didn't feel it necessary to explain his actions, and I wasn't sure how to ask, so we didn't talk about. He did ask me how my day was going though.

Again, I want don't people to think I'm making light of mental illness or whatever. Josh is actually a very lucid guy, we have perfectly normal chats and he genuinely seems to care when he asks how my day is going and stuff. It's just that, occasionally, he has outbursts where he talks about how people should beat their children with a stick. Or sometimes he rants about women with "promiscuous" clothing. And, now, of course, the pigeon thing.

But he also occasionally says brilliant things too. One day he said, "In the end, people appreciate frankness more than flattery." Oddly profound, no?
I'm sure the woman I once saw him call a whore didn't appreciate his frankness, but it's still a pretty good thought (to be fair to Josh, this chick did kind of look like a whore).

One morning on my way in, I also once watched Josh eating a sandwich (not a gross dumpster sandwich, an oddly good looking sandwich in saran wrap, part of the reason I'm not sure if he's homeless). When he saw another, clearly homeless guy sitting on the sidewalk across the street, Josh crossed to give him half his sandwich.

So yes, he's probably a little "crazy," but he's also kind of cool. I want to be clear I'm not mocking him, he's just profoundly interesting.

Anyway, yesterday, as it happens, he definitely tipped the scales in the crazy direction a little more than the profound direction. First the pigeon thing, and then, when I told him I was having a shitty day, he recommended that I burn a cow (yep, burn a cow), then mix the ashes of the burnt cow with water and have someone sprinkle them on me.

All I have to say is, it worked like a charm. I recommend you all try it too.

Josh is Dead
originally posted December 8, 2009

Josh is dead. Josh remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?

Dead.

No, not our good friend Josh Reynolds. He is alive and kicking. Probably feeling up a young girl right now.

That other Josh. The brilliant, enigmatic dude who seemed to live around the hot dog cart at my work. He's dead.

No more will I have some weird guy to chat with. No more will I have crazy shit to witness while I dine on lips, hooves and assholes on my lunch break at work. I'm totally lost.

...OK. Confession time.

There is no Josh. There never was. All the crazy shit he supposedly did? He never actually did it.

That's right, I invented Josh.

And all that crazy shit he did? I invented that, too. Actually, that's not true. There was never a crazy/homeless guy that hangs around my work. But all that "crazy shit" I attributed to him? Well that's real stuff.

Where did I get it you might ask?

The bible.

That's right. Virtually everything "Josh" did on my fictional lunches with him is stuff taken directly from the bible. Most of it is actually stuff that the bible commands you to do.

Remember when I mentioned to Josh that I was considering dressing in drag for Halloween and he called it an abomination?

Deuteronomy 22:5 The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman's garment: for all that do so are abomination unto the LORD thy God.

Or when Josh held a lengthy diatribe about the wearing of blended fabrics?

Deuteronomy 22:11 Thou shalt not wear a garment of divers sorts, as of woolen and linen together.

Why did I do this you might ask?

Well, I just wanted to show that maybe the "laws" of the bible shouldn't always be followed to a T.

I wanted to show that the bible is kind of...uh...crazy.

That is, the rules and commandments laid out in the bible, today, don't really make sense.

A lot of the stuff in there has become obsolete, irrelevant and frankly, ridiculous. The bible has about a hundred commandments detailing the rules of keeping livestock. The bible has rules about helping your neighbour's donkey.

During the time it was written, I'm sure someone thought it a valuable enterprise to put these agro-laws in the bible. The suggestion often made in the bible that a person should wash another person's feet seems weird when I have someone say it to me in 2009 Toronto. But in biblical times, people wore sandals and often traveled great distances to see one another. Offering someone a bowl to wash their filthy feet in before they came in your house would have been not only a nice gesture, but practical.

Maybe, just maybe, then it's worth using a little common sense when it comes to following "the good book."

The bible says you need to blow a trumpet on the first of every month (Psalms 81:3) and that you should build a hut once a year and live it in for a week (Leviticus 23:33).

The bible also has a long list of rules governing the keeping of slaves.

Don't get me wrong. The bible is an excellent read. There are moments of eloquence, poetry and sometimes even valuable wisdom. When "Josh" said, "In the end, people appreciate frankness more than flattery." It was actually a direct quote of Proverbs 28:23.

When "Josh" offered some of his sandwich to a homeless guy, he was actually tithing. A practice outlined in the bible that dictates we should give away one tenth of whatever we have.

Some of the stuff in the bible about charity and brotherhood is profound and brilliant.

Then there's all the stuff about the role of women, the "abomination" that is homosexuality, and beating your children to discipline them.

I'm not saying don't be religious. Go ahead. Read the bible. Just try to exercise a little common sense when you find yourself using it to define "family," "marriage," or "life."

And to everyone else, next time you hear someone say you should do something because the bible says so, why not ask them if they made sure they weren't wearing linen and wool? Or when the last time was that they burned a bull in sacrifice? Or if they've touched the skin of a dead pig lately? Or if they eat leavened bread?

For an excellent read, the inspiration for Josh, and a fantastic "Bible for Dummies" you should pick up the book, The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs wherein the author attempts to follow every single rule in the bible for one year.

A Guide To Josh's Craziness in The Bible

Josh claims his mother never had sex.	Uh, Jesus.
Josh says dressing in Women's clothes is an abomination.	Deuteronomy 22:5 The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman's garment: for all that do so are abomination unto the LORD thy God.
Josh speaks out against blended fabrics.	Deuteronomy 22:11 Thou shalt not wear a garment of divers sorts, as of woolen and linen together.
Josh shoos away a pigeon before taking its egg.	Deuteronomy 22:6 If you chance to come upon a bird's nest...you shall not take the mother with the young.
Josh calls a woman a whore for dressing promiscuously.	Timothy 2:9 I also want women to dress modestly, with decency and propriety, not with braided hair or gold or pearls or expensive clothes.
Josh talks about beating kids.	Proverbs 22:15 Folly is bound up in the heart of a child; but the rod of discipline drives it from him. Proverbs 23:14 Thou shalt beat him with the rod, and shalt deliver his soul from hell. Proverbs 23:13 Do not withhold discipline from a child; if you beat him with a rod, he will not die.
Josh talks about burning a cow and sprinkling its ashes.	Numbers 2-10 "This is a requirement of the law that the LORD has commanded: Tell the Israelites to bring you a red heifer without defect or blemish and that has never been under a yoke. 3 Give it to Eleazar the priest; it is to be taken outside the camp and slaughtered in his presence. 4 Then Eleazar the priest is to take some of its blood on his finger and sprinkle it seven times toward the front of the Tent of Meeting. 5 While he watches, the heifer is to be burned—its hide, flesh, blood and offal. 6 The priest is to take some cedar wood, hyssop and scarlet wool and throw them onto the burning heifer. 7 After that, the priest must wash his clothes and bathe himself with water. He may then come into the camp, but he will be ceremonially unclean till evening. 8 The man who burns it must also wash his clothes and bathe with water, and he too will be unclean till evening. 9 "A man who is clean shall gather up the ashes of the heifer and put them in a ceremonially clean place outside the camp. They shall be kept by the Israelite community for use in the water of cleansing; it is for purification from sin. 10 The man who gathers up the ashes of the heifer must also wash his clothes, and he too will be unclean till evening. This will be a lasting ordinance both for the Israelites and for the aliens living among them.
Josh claims he is from Barbelo, a motherland beyond the stars. He says he is an avatar of Seth, third son of Adam and that he is here to show the Sethians home.	OK, I took some liberties here. But this is actually an explanation of Jesus' origin from the "Gnostic Gospels." These are a collection of gospels believed to be from the same time and place of origin as the "authorized" gospels, but they are not actually accepted by mainstream Christianity (despite being very interesting; featuring the gospels of, among others, Mary Magdalene and Judas - from whom this passage about Barbelo was lifted). But give me a break. It was the first "Josh" post, I had to pull you in with some crazy shit.

Cast This Movie AKA Teenage Exorcism is So Hot Right Now

2011-09-02T04:00:00.000-04:00

According to this recent article in The Daily Mail, a school in Arizona is ushering in the new breed of demon slaying exorcists. And get this: They're teenage girls.

Whuh?! ZOMFG! Lolz.

The article is full of all kinds of Daily Mail-style insights like "Highly experienced in casting out demons, saving souls, and banishing evil spirits to hell, [Brynne] is also a student who enjoys styling her hair, shopping and meeting her friends at Starbucks."

While the new breed of exorcist seems to be a diverse bunch, this particular article focuses on five fiend-fighting foxes and the head of their school, Evangelist Reverend Bob Larson of Spiritual Freedom Churches International.

Given the current trend toward "occult" style vampire and werewolf movies, the pro-religious themes you could incorporate, and the potential for casting busty teenagers, the entire time I was reading this article I could pretty much hear Hollywood producers popping money-signs-in-their-eyes greed boners.

Accordingly, I thought I'd let some of the creative work in making this inevitable blockbuster happen go toward some of the most savvy and intelligent folks around, Real Johnson readers.

So, if you were making this movie, who would you cast in the role of the girls? And who will play Reverend Bob?

Bonus points: Cast the movie as if it were being released in the 90s using only 90s-era actors.

Double bonus points: Name the movie.

Given Hollywood's aversion to coming up with any sort of original idea, it is very likely that a producer will stumble on this blog and actually steal your idea.

The Real Hipster Correspondence

2011-08-31T07:00:00.000-04:00

from	Ming Ynag yang_ming1@me.com
to		therealhipster@gmail.com
date		Thu, Apr 21, 2011 at 8:40 AM
subject		RE:
mailed-by		me.com

hide details Apr 21

I am Mr.Ming Yang,director of operations of the Hang Seng Bank Ltd,Sai WanHo Branch.I have a proposal for you concerning one of our client.This proposal is about Major Fadi Basem and his family who was killed during the war in a bomb blast that hit their home.Until his death he left the sum of Twenty Four millions Five Hundred USD

We shall share in the ratio 50% for me, 45% for you and 5% will be used to pay back expenses incurred from both ends in the process of the transfer to your account.I am prepared to release further details to you based on your response and communications.

Awaiting your response.

Sincerely,

Mr.Ming Yang

from	Real Hipster therealhipster@gmail.com
to		Ming Ynag
date		Thu, Jul 14, 2011 at 12:15 PM
subject		Re:
mailed-by		gmail.com

hide details 12:15 PM (7 minutes ago)

Mr Yang,

i emailed u back abt this fantastic offer a while ago but I still haven't heard back. can u please give me some idea when I might expect my Ten millions Two Hundred Twenty Five USD?

maybe u can give me yr bbm pin or aim name and we can chat more...r u on facebook?

i am urgently awaiting yr reply. as soon as I got yr email in April I made some large purchases and i would <3 if Hang Seng Bank Ltd to help me out asap.

also, i'm rly sry about the current war u mentioned in Sai Wan Ho. i am sorry that there is not more being done for Hong Kong (i googled Sai Wan Ho).

the Western media has reported almost nothing of this war! sooo typical

ttyl,

The Real Hipster

A Cyclist’s Argument Against Stopping at Stop Signs

2011-08-28T12:06:00.001-04:00

The other day, while biking to work, I came to a stop alongside another cyclist at a red light. Evidently he had been riding near me for some time because he asked, “Are you going to blow through any more stop signs?”

“Probably, yes,” I told him, in all honesty.

“You are the type of person that gives cyclists a bad name,” he said.

Before I could respond–likely something about kissing and certain parts of my anatomy–the light changed and we parted ways; but I’ve been thinking about what he said ever since.

You see, I’m actually a really safe cyclist. I have a bell that I use liberally, I signal my turns, I’m courteous and cautious around other cyclists and cars, and I would never dream of riding my bike without a helmet.

But I hate stop signs. Hate them. If you’ve ever been on a bike, you’ll understand that it’s really irritating to come to a complete stop then have to start up again. For a person in a car, stopping at a stop sign requires only a shifting of one’s foot from the gas pedal to the brake pedal, then back again to resume their prior speed–and from what I see on my commute every day, even that is too irritating a use of energy for most drivers.

For a cyclist, coming to a complete stop means halting all forward momentum and significantly increasing energy output. In fact, according to this study (Warning: science content) co-authored by a Professor of Physics at the University of California, Berkeley,

on a street with a stop sign every 300 feet, calculations predict that the average speed of a 150-pound rider putting out 100 watts of power will diminish by about forty percent. If the bicyclist wants to maintain her average speed of 12.5 mph while still coming to a complete stop at each sign, she has to increase her output power to almost 500 watts. This is well beyond the ability of all but the most ﬁt cyclists.

In other words, if you were to stop at every stop sign on your way to work, it would be literally impossible for you to maintain a comfortable, constant, average speed. That might not seem like much, but over long distances, it significantly increases travel times and likewise increases fatigue. Even slowing to a virtual crawl instead of completely stopping allows cyclists to use “25 percent less energy to get back to 10 mph than does a cyclist who comes to a complete stop.”

You see, it’s not just irritating to come to a complete stop; it’s actual physical hard work.

Most people who are offended by cyclists going through stop signs are likely to scoff at my energy output argument and note, “Too bad, buddy. That’s the law.” Well to those scoffers I say, “Actually, it’s not.”
Not everywhere at least. In Idaho, since 1982, there has been a rather sensible section of their legislation that states, “A person operating a bicycle or human-powered vehicle approaching a stop sign shall slow down and, if required for safety, stop before entering the intersection.”

That is, cyclists in Idaho need only stop “if required.” Basically the law allows cyclists to treat stop signs like yield signs, preserving their energy and, actually, increasing safety: since the law has been on the books, cyclist-related accidents in Idaho have actually decreased.

Because you see, cyclists aren’t actually the maniacal, fly-through-traffic, ignore-all-laws psychos that we are so often portrayed to be. In fact, you’ll probably find that the average person who has chosen to forgo a gas-guzzling car and opt for a vehicle that requires as much energy as a light bulb (coming from a person no less) is usually a pretty sensible person. Not only do we not seek to intentionally ignore the law simply for the sake being rebellious, we also understand that in a battle between a 175lb bag of meat and a 3000lb block of metal and chrome, there is only one likely winner. So, believe it or not, we actually take some caution when we roll through a stop sign– and with a head higher than your car’s roof, we’re also actually in a pretty good position to gauge traffic as we approach an intersection.

So, the next time a fellow cyclist tells me I’m giving ‘our people’ a bad name, I won’t even get worked up. I’ll simply laugh at his foolish, inefficient use of his energy, swivel my head to check that the coast is clear, and roll on past him, Idaho-style. And the next time a driver asks me to make a complete stop at a stop sign, I’ll respond the same way I always do, “You first.”

An Open Letter to Christie Blatchford

2011-08-23T18:00:00.001-04:00

The following is an email I sent to Christie Blatchford of The National Post this afternoon following her online article, “Layton’s death turns into a thoroughly public spectacle.”

Ms. Blatchford,

As it's often my style to use a considerable amount of foul language and to spout what less polite readers have called "rage-filled diatribes" you'll have to forgive me if my efforts here are less eloquent than my usual fare since I'll be trying something different today; namely, remaining civil.

You see, despite my burning urge to call you things like "wretched, opportunistic weasel" or "vile, hate-filled hack," I imagine your inbox over at The National Post will already be teeming with similar sentiments so I'll skip it.

Indeed, I fight the overwhelming urge to call you an asshole since I worry that too many others may have already done so and I wouldn't want so appropriate a word to lose any of its cachet from over-use.

Instead, I'd like to take this time simply to tell you, with all sincerity, that you are a horrible person and you should stop writing. Anything.

Your opinion piece in the online version of The National Post today noting the "sensationalism" that has resulted from the death of Jack Layton—hilariously devoid of irony given that your article was itself an act of ridiculous sensationalism—was arguably the most despicable piece of "journalism" that I have ever read. And I am including your racist diatribes against Muslims following the 2006 terrorism arrests.

You really are just a bad person and you need to stop writing. Anything.

To be clear, I'm not simply reacting to your "biting political commentary" or your "off the cuff" style. I am not easily offended by uninformed-yet-loud pundits who propose to "tell it like it is."

I get what you are trying to do, as you have made a career for yourself doing it: you are intentionally abrasive under the mistaken impression that the attention you receive is akin to recognition.

That's not what's got me worked into a fine, raging lather this afternoon.

No.

It's simply that you are a very, very bad person. And you need to stop writing. Anything.

Given that you spent a large chunk of your professional career writing for The Toronto Sun, it is hardly surprising that you exhibit a tendency toward hacky, sensationalist, poorly informed, and borderline offensive writing. But to take to the internet with the intent to slander Jack Layton the day after he died is a feat unparalleled in terms of its sheer classlessness and tastelessness.

I won't address your confusion about the media providing in-depth coverage of this sad event. Analysing and sensationalizing significant world events are, of course, what the media does. The fact that you feign ignorance about why "television anchors donned their most funereal faces, [and] producers dug out the heavy organ music" proves only that you are being intentionally naive in order to generate some mock disgust for your own cause, or that you have, evidently, learned nothing working in the field of journalism for a quarter of a century. Either way, it's incredibly lazy and underhanded to question why this has been a "sensation."

Your argument that Jack Layton was an "opportunist" is similarly badly placed and in extremely poor taste.

Certainly Mr. Layton had some degree of ego in him. What person that might fancy himself leader of a country doesn't have some over-heightened sense of self? Politicians, out of necessity, must clamour for some degree of limelight and attention. It doesn't make Mr. Layton's achievements any less admirable.

However, to take the time, just one day after his passing, to suggest that even his death was some sort of contrived political event is, quite literally, disgusting. You actually disgust me. If you'd like to speak about someone using unfortunate events for their own gain, I'd look not to the man waving his cane at rallies, and rather to the bitter, unfeeling journalist dragging a deceased man's name through the mud in order to drive hits to her online column.

The fact that Mr. Layton, just two days before he died, thought to pen instructions and inspiration to his party is not, in fact, an act of ego or ambition as you’ve suggested, but rather an act of great selflessness. I struggle to think of anyone who might be thinking of the political party with which they are affiliated when they are at death's door. I can speak for myself when I say that, should anyone ask me to tend to the matters of my political party as I am literally on death's door, they would most certainly be met with two words. And they wouldn't be "Yes please."

To suggest that the outpouring of grief for Jack Layton was less sincere since "people the planet over routinely weep for those they have never met" is profoundly dumb. Other people have mourned before, so this mourning is less sincere? Should victims of the tornado in Goderich this weekend feel less inclined toward grief given that a tornado also touched down in Kenora five days prior?

Your arguments that Stephen Harper was "one of a very few voices of reason" yesterday was similarly laughable. Anyone who looks to Prime Minister Stephen Harper for emotional guidance on how to react to world events might just as well look toward their microwave for advice on how to pick up women.

Your entire column today was so filled with ignorant assumptions, non-sequitur arguments, and ridiculously uninformed opinions that the sloppiness of the piece often overshadows the sheer offensiveness of your clear and malicious bias. It's questionable whether it was your lack of journalistic integrity or your unprovoked personal attack that I found more distasteful.

However, the remedy for either offence is clear.

Please stop writing. Anything.

Just stop.

After today, I think you'll be hard pressed to find anyone who wants to read what you've got to write. So why not call it day?

You’re not really a writer anymore anyway. It took the internet to come up with a term for it, but you have made a career being one: a troll. And that’s all you really are now.

Clearly if you feel the need to get upset with other Canadians and act slanderous toward a good man who died simply because there has been an outpouring of public grief for that man, you’re not really adding to the public discourse any more.

So why not just stop writing this garbage entirely?

Surely it can no longer be a satisfying career for you to spot a common trend then simply write the opposite sentiment and wait for the angry reaction. Surely this is an empty, fruitless, and sad pursuit.

Give it up.

Everyone will be much better off.

Maybe you can convert your home office into that craft room you’ve been talking about.

Thank you for your consideration.

Sincerely,

~Johnson

If you too would like to share your thoughts with Christie Blatchford, you can email her at cblatchford@postmedia.com.

Jack Layton 1950-2011

2011-08-22T14:21:00.002-04:00

Early this morning, Jack Layton, the leader of the NDP, Canada's official opposition party, passed away after a losing battle with a second bout of cancer.

In May, Layton led the NDP to the position of the official opposition party for the first time in the party's history; their historic "Orange Crush" galvanizing much of Canada's political left and helping to hand stunning defeats to the Liberal party as well as all but ending the Bloc Quebecois as an official party.

The NDP's success in this past election was due virtually entirely to the leadership efforts of "Smiling Jack," the ever-scrappy career politician who cut his political teeth on Toronto's City Council.

While I didn't necessarily agree with his party's platform in its entirety, Jack Layton was a champion of social causes and a passionate and inspirational politician.

His death represents a huge loss for Canadians.

Below is an open letter he penned to Canadians on August 20, 2011.

August 20, 2011

Toronto, Ontario

Dear Friends,

Tens of thousands of Canadians have written to me in recent weeks to wish me well. I want to thank each and every one of you for your thoughtful, inspiring and often beautiful notes, cards and gifts. Your spirit and love have lit up my home, my spirit, and my determination.

Unfortunately my treatment has not worked out as I hoped. So I am giving this letter to my partner Olivia to share with you in the circumstance in which I cannot continue.

I recommend that Hull-Aylmer MP Nycole Turmel continue her work as our interim leader until a permanent successor is elected.

I recommend the party hold a leadership vote as early as possible in the New Year, on approximately the same timelines as in 2003, so that our new leader has ample time to reconsolidate our team, renew our party and our program, and move forward towards the next election.

A few additional thoughts:

To other Canadians who are on journeys to defeat cancer and to live their lives, I say this: please don’t be discouraged that my own journey hasn’t gone as well as I had hoped. You must not lose your own hope. Treatments and therapies have never been better in the face of this disease. You have every reason to be optimistic, determined, and focused on the future. My only other advice is to cherish every moment with those you love at every stage of your journey, as I have done this summer.

To the members of my party: we’ve done remarkable things together in the past eight years. It has been a privilege to lead the New Democratic Party and I am most grateful for your confidence, your support, and the endless hours of volunteer commitment you have devoted to our cause. There will be those who will try to persuade you to give up our cause. But that cause is much bigger than any one leader. Answer them by recommitting with energy and determination to our work. Remember our proud history of social justice, universal health care, public pensions and making sure no one is left behind. Let’s continue to move forward. Let’s demonstrate in everything we do in the four years before us that we are ready to serve our beloved Canada as its next government.

To the members of our parliamentary caucus: I have been privileged to work with each and every one of you. Our caucus meetings were always the highlight of my week. It has been my role to ask a great deal from you. And now I am going to do so again. Canadians will be closely watching you in the months to come. Colleagues, I know you will make the tens of thousands of members of our party proud of you by demonstrating the same seamless teamwork and solidarity that has earned us the confidence of millions of Canadians in the recent election.

To my fellow Quebecers: On May 2nd, you made an historic decision. You decided that the way to replace Canada’s Conservative federal government with something better was by working together in partnership with progressive-minded Canadians across the country. You made the right decision then; it is still the right decision today; and it will be the right decision right through to the next election, when we will succeed, together. You have elected a superb team of New Democrats to Parliament. They are going to be doing remarkable things in the years to come to make this country better for us all.

To young Canadians: All my life I have worked to make things better. Hope and optimism have defined my political career, and I continue to be hopeful and optimistic about Canada. Young people have been a great source of inspiration for me. I have met and talked with so many of you about your dreams, your frustrations, and your ideas for change. More and more, you are engaging in politics because you want to change things for the better. Many of you have placed your trust in our party. As my time in political life draws to a close I want to share with you my belief in your power to change this country and this world. There are great challenges before you, from the overwhelming nature of climate change to the unfairness of an economy that excludes so many from our collective wealth, and the changes necessary to build a more inclusive and generous Canada. I believe in you. Your energy, your vision, your passion for justice are exactly what this country needs today. You need to be at the heart of our economy, our political life, and our plans for the present and the future.

And finally, to all Canadians: Canada is a great country, one of the hopes of the world. We can be a better one – a country of greater equality, justice, and opportunity. We can build a prosperous economy and a society that shares its benefits more fairly. We can look after our seniors. We can offer better futures for our children. We can do our part to save the world’s environment. We can restore our good name in the world. We can do all of these things because we finally have a party system at the national level where there are real choices; where your vote matters; where working for change can actually bring about change. In the months and years to come, New Democrats will put a compelling new alternative to you. My colleagues in our party are an impressive, committed team. Give them a careful hearing; consider the alternatives; and consider that we can be a better, fairer, more equal country by working together. Don’t let them tell you it can’t be done.

My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.

All my very best,

Jack Layton

College Park

2011-08-20T07:00:00.000-04:00

Somehow, despite living in downtown Toronto for the past five years and despite working just walking distance from Yonge Street and College Street (and frequently visiting the building at lunch), I was totally unaware of the rather cool history of College Park.

Asked for some Google assistance from a friend cheating on his office's "Amazing Race-type challenge," I happened upon the storied history of this amazing art deco building in the heart of downtown and so I thought I'd share it with you [by shamelessly paraphrasing a few wikipedia articles and pulling together some archive images from wikimedia commons].

If you're Canadian, you likely need no explanation of what Eaton's is; however, in case you're not Canadian (first, my condolences, second), I'll explain in brief.

Timothy Eaton

Essentially, Eaton's is a Canadian retail institution. Founded in 1869 by Timothy Eaton, Eaton's (the retail chain) has weird and ominous distinctions like being the first store in Canada with electric lights and being the first retail space with an elevator (which you were only allowed to ride up so that you had to walk past all the merchandise on the way down). Eaton's is old and it was here a long time and it got absolutely massive in a hurry.

By 1905, it was written that: "There is hardly a name in Canada, with the possible exception of the Prime Minister, so well known to the people at large as that of Mr. Timothy Eaton."

Eaton's continued to grow from its humble beginnings on Yonge Street to become a Canada-wide chain and the stores essentially revolutionized department store retailing.

Evidently the first Eaton's is in this picture somewhere - Yonge Street 1909

To get some idea of how truly massive and influential Eaton's is/was to Canadians, consider that "as late as the 1960s, Canadian Magazine estimated that Winnipeggers spent more than 50 cents of every shopping dollar (excluding groceries) at Eaton's, and that on a busy day, one out of every ten Winnipeggers would visit the Portage Avenue store." One might argue a) no one's ever heard of Canadian Magazine and b) there isn't a heck of a lot to do in Winnipeg anyway; however, this is still a pretty impressive display of market share.

Anyway, long story short, Eaton's is a department store chain that, until it went bankrupt in 1999, was a Canadian institution.

I knew most of this, as, I'm sure, most Canadians did.

For some reason, however, I had no idea about College Park's involvement in this storied history.

In 1928, Eaton's announced it had plans to move from it's current location (then at 190 Yonge), to a space at Yonge and College that would be the largest retail and office complex in the world. The plans boasted 5,000,000 square feet of retail space.

Because of the depression, the building they actually created was "just" 600,000 square feet (and they never actually left the Yonge Street location); however the space on College was decidedly the first "retail palace."

Eaton's College Street, 1930

To give you some idea of the opulence and grandiose of the space when it opened, I'm just going to paste a passage directly from the College Park Wikipedia page:

Tyndall limestone was used for the imposing exterior. Accentuating the Tyndall limestone was granite and a corrosion-resistant alloy of nickel and copper called monel metal. The monel metal was used copiously on the building as trim and in panels along the window and door frames. In addition to this metal trim, cast stone and carvings acted as detailed decorative elements on the façade. Marble was imported from Europe for the interior columns and colonnade. Lady [Flora McCrea] Eaton [matriarch of the Eaton family and wife of Sir John Craig Eaton - Timothy Eaton's son] arranged for two entire rooms to be removed from two manor houses in England and reassembled in the furniture department of the College Street store.

Eaton College Street interior, 1930

The French architect Jacques Carlu (who later designed the Rainbow Room in New York City and the Eaton's Ninth Floor (or the "9ième") in Montreal), was retained to design the interior of the Eaton's Seventh Floor, including the 1300-seat Eaton Auditorium and the elegant Round Room restaurant. Itself an Art Moderne masterpiece, the Eaton's Seventh Floor was at the heart of Toronto's cultural life for many years. The Auditorium played host to the major performers of its day, including Billie Holiday, Duke Ellington, Frank Sinatra, and the National Ballet of Canada. Canada's own Glenn Gould, fond of the Auditorium's excellent acoustics, used the hall for a number of his recordings.

The foyer of the seventh floor, 1945

When the Toronto Eaton Centre opened in 1977, they tore down the "main" Eaton's location at 190 Yonge to make way for it and sold the building at College and Yonge to new owners, with the stipulation that they preserve the then historic seventh floor.

The new owners rechristened the building "College Park," convereted the main floors into space for multiple retail outlets, and foolishly converted the upper floors to office space. Because you know, when you purchase 600,000 square feet of historic art deco architecture, you think, hey, let's put in shitty little offices! Idiots! Look how awesome this space is! Offices?! Yargh!

In-store display, 1943

Despite their promises to preserve it, the cost of maintaining the art deco masterpiece on the seventh floor proved too much and the new owners applied for a demolition permit to convert it too into nondescript office space. Fools!

The Round Room restaurant on the seventh floor

But, in perhaps one of the few shining good moments of municipal beauracracy, the Court of Appeal of Toronto ruled that the floor was protected under the Ontario Hetritage Act, thus preventing the current owners, and a succession of new owners over years, from demolishing it.

And so, though the space was protected by law, there was no law requiring the owners to mainatin or restore the space and, instead the floor was sealed and it sat for the next 27 years; untouched, but left to deteriorate.

Finally, (I'm almost done here!), in 2003, with financial backing from new tenants, architects painstakingly restored the space on the seventh floor, including its auditorium seating and signature fountain, and today the space is a special events venue known as The Carlu, named after the French architect Jacques Carlu, who was originally comissioned to create the space by Lady Eaton.

The Round Room at The Carlu, now

And now you know the history of College Park. Kind of makes me wonder what else I am walking past every day, blissfully unaware as I try to avoid eye contact with someone asking for change...

College Park exterior, now

In the interest of journalistic integrity, it should definitely be noted again that I created this post entirely from reading and rewording the following wikipedia pages:

You might also want to check out the official website for The Carlu.

(I stole that header image, appropriately enough, from this criminal lawyer's website)

Angry Letters to Vegetable Assassins

2011-08-18T11:39:00.001-04:00

I'm over here today. Come check out my letter to the Vegetable Assassin then check out her blog instead (and defend Canada in the increasingly hostile comments section!).

I'll have some totally awesome new content about the history of Toronto for you Saturday morning.

Tell your mom I said hello.

I'm not making a joke! Your mother's a lovely lady. Give her my regards!

Sheesh. You try to be polite.

8 Stinkers That Have Me in A Tizzy!

2011-08-15T07:00:00.023-04:00

Hi Everyone, it's me Joanne ;)

I know I don't get to write on this blog very often, but I asked special permission from Mr. Johnson because there's a few things that have got me in a tizzy this week. I know Mr. Johnson has a semi-regular feature here, "People He Wants to Punch In The Face," but I'm simply not a violent person, so I've amended it a bit.

Anyhoo, I just really wanted to vent a little. Hope you'll indulge me!!!

1. Snarky People - There's no need to bite my head off! Sheesh. You work in customer service for crying out loud.

2. Busy Bodies - Just mind your beeswax! Nobody likes a nosy parker! Why are you so interested in other people's lives?? Is yours that boring?!

3. The lady at the Metro who wouldn't acept my coupon for Fancy Feast - It expired one fricking day ago! Can't you cut me some slack?! I've got some hungry kitties at home, lady!!

4. Nervous Nellies - Just relax, wouldja?

5. Smart Alecs - You think you're so smart with your little comments. Well just knock it off.

6. Chatty Cathys - We all like to have a good gab now and again around the office, but know when to draw the line! And it's not just the ladies!! You boys sure can have a good bull session once in a while, let me tell ya!

6. Bossy Boots - No one likes to be told what to do! I don't want to name names, but that Jane in accounting sure is some piece of work! I've been here three years, I think I know how to file an expense report!! A change in attitude can change your life!

7. Horatio Caine from CSI: Miami - He's just so smug.

8. Looky Loos - Keep walkin' mister.

Anyhoo, hope I helped you pass a little time on your Monday.

Oh and what the heck, here's some pictures of my kitties!

Here's my baby Jacob being a sleepy head on mommy's bed.

Edward loves to play in the grass <3

Bella Swan lounging on the beach at Uncle Phil's cottage in Bancroft

And here's my classy girl Charlotte York out on the balcony last fall in her new sweater I knit!

Office Talk

2011-08-10T07:00:00.003-04:00

A few days ago, I continued my losing battle against the slow murder of the English language, in this post, entitled On A Go-Forward Basis I Fucking Hate You 2.0.

While I never worked it into the post, I stumbled upon a rage-worthy nugget while "researching" that post which I wanted to share with my readers and fellow language protectors ~~given some of the enthusiasm that has shown up in the comments section of that post~~ for no reason at all.

In the course of trying to find more stabtastic language to include in my harangue, I Googled the phrase "Office Talk" and stumbled upon the website for the Microsoft product of that same name. Seemingly with no sense of irony given the name of the product, Microsoft includes the following jargon-y blurb on that website to describe the product:

The goals of OfficeTalk are to understand scenarios enabled by a microblogging platform and to gather data to help inform future Microsoft efforts focused on microblogging.

What the fuck does that mean?

Well, from what I can tell it pretty much just means "facebook for your office."

And, as if that weren't bad enough, they even have a tab that's marked "Envisioning."

A tab! I'm sure a lot of people are like, oh, here's the "contact us" info, yeah, but where can I get some more info on "Envisioning."

Ah! Here's the "Envisioning" tab.

Jesus.

The lead picture popped up when I did a Google image search for the word "Envisioning." I can't say for sure, but I have a feeling he might be one of the web designers at Microsoft responsible for the Office Talk site.

On a Go-Forward Basis I Fucking Hate You 2.0

2011-08-04T07:00:00.000-04:00

Some time ago, I lamented the murder of the English language thanks to that most disgusting of phenomena, "lolspeak" - that despicable, inbred offspring of acronyms, poor spelling and simple laziness. Well, it has been two years since I wrote "OMG I Fucking Hate You LOL" and things don't seem to be getting any better.

In fact, I think it's quite clear, living in a world where people on the street say things like "obvi," without any degree of humour, that things are only getting worse.

However, the dumbing down of our language to the level of mall-rat, glue-sniffing teenager isn't what's got my panties in a knot tonight. Of course, I still want to cave in the head of any asshole who's ever uttered the phrase"Oh em gee" instead of just saying a "Oh my God," —a phrase with exactly the same amount of syllables—but tonight I want to talk about another phenomenon that, if it isn't quite an accomplice to the murder of the English language, it's most certainly kicking in the teeth of the English language or at the very least taking it to a van in the woods and molesting it to the point of irreparable psychological damage.

I'm talking, of course, about Office Speak.

If you've ever worked in any office environment, you'll know that there is an inherent language associated with that workplace. And sure, out of necessity, convenience, and familiarity, it is inevitable that a certain shorthand evolves among the people that work in any setting. People that work in, say, Club Monaco, eventually just start calling camisoles "camis." The kids at McDonald's probably order "Mac meals" instead of Big Mac Combos. Your mom calls her customers "Johns."

That's inevitable shorthand that develops when working in a group. While it's lazy and generally sounds stupid, it's perfectly naturally, wholly acceptable, and not what I'm talking about.

What I'm talking about is that sort of casual destruction of the English language that often gets overlooked under the guise of "shop talk." Specifically, that sort of insane swapping of word uses wherein nouns become verbs and adjectives and verbs become nouns.

What I mean is that, like nowhere else in the world, the modern office seems to breed this make-me-chew-off-my-own-lips-in-rage tendency to make people think that the function something serves or the act a person does can become the name by which we call it.

For example, if you've ever heard someone refer to a report, a series of statistics, or an end-product as a "deliverable" you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. Things are not themselves "deliverables," they are things which can be delivered. I suggest that the next time you hear a person request a run-down on some "deliverables," you should almost certainly consider that person a "stabbable."

Similar break-fluorescent-light-tubes-just-to-put-the-shards-in-my-eyes inducing trends include naming people based on their inherent valuable skill to the organization for which they work. You're probably having a hard time thinking of an example of this, but it's probably only because it has now become so common it's virtually accepted.

Case in point:

"Hey, this is Rick. He's one of our creatives."

No.

No no no.

Rick is creative. He is not a creative. He may be a member of the creative team but he himself is not a creative.

Would you use this characteristic-as-noun abomination to introduce the fat guy at your office? "Hey, this is Kevin. He's one of our hungries."

No? So don't do it to the fucking art department.

A "ballpark" is a place and, when you want to ask for an estimation on something, you might ask for a "ballpark figure." "Ballpark," however, is not a verb. Despite the tendency of douche bag sales-types the world over to request the act, you can't actually "ballpark" something.

The same goes for "workshop." Unless you're working on a motorcycle, or otherwise holding a hammer or screwdriver, you probably shouldn't be using the word "workshop" to talk about the development of an idea.

If you've ever asked a group of people to "workshop" something, please go find a hammer and hit yourself in the head with it.

"Heads up!" is something generally yelled to warn someone about something. It's origins are likely in sports and the phrase essentially means, "look alive" or "watch out!" Accordingly, you cannot give someone a heads up. "Heads up" is not synonymous with the noun "warning."

Any time people give me a "heads up" that some work is coming my way, it's generally a good warning that those people have their heads up their asses.

Then there's the equally annoying reverse trend of wanting to turn nouns into disgusting and often made up verbs.

You can't for example, "incentivize" someone. You can offer incentives though, you pencil-pushing hump.

And while we're at it, I send things for other people to work on, I don't "action" items, OK?

And these are just the perverse, function-changing verbs as nouns and nouns as verbs. I can barely even begin to mention the plethora of inane, jargony bullshit that's been made up to make the most menial, stupid task seem important.

Do you work with people that use this puke-inducing, make-me-want-to-staple-your-nipples-to-your-desk vocabulary?

People who say things like "on a go-forward basis" when they could just say "now."
People that say "think outside the box" with no hint of irony given that that phrase is so very, very common.
Ever been told you need to "hit the ground running?"
Asked to "keep something on your radar?"
"Get on the same pag-"

"Aaahhhh!!!! *RAGE-INDUCED BLOOD VOMIT*"

...

Wow. Sorry about that. Looks like I've got a mess to clean up here.

Anyway, in closing, please be sure that, moving forward, you take my suggestions into consideration.

It's vital that we get the ball rolling on improving competencies when it comes to clear writing and general communication strategies when we interface.

For what it's worth, it is also my hope that this post might prove to be a real value-add as we continue to leverage this blog vis-a-vis real world outcomes.

Please be sure touch base via the comment section and I'll be sure to circle back to close the loop on some results-driven, real time feedback.

Synergy 2.0,

~Johnson

When Zombies Attack!

2011-07-30T07:00:00.001-04:00

The following is the actual abstract from the lengthy study "When Zombies Attack!: Mathematical Modeling of an Outbreak of Zombie Infection." It was written by a group of mathematicians from Carleton University and The University of Ottawa and was published in Infectious Disease Modelling Research Progress (I first read this excerpt when it was published in the July issue of Harpers).

Zombies are a popular ﬁgure in pop culture/entertainment and they are usually portrayed as being brought about through an outbreak or epidemic. Consequently, we model a zombie attack, using biological assumptions based on popular zombie movies. We introduce a basic model for zombie infection, determine equilibria and their stability, and illustrate the outcome with numerical solutions. We then reﬁne the model to introduce a latent period of zombiﬁcation, whereby humans are infected, but not infectious, before becoming undead. We then modify the model to include the effects of possible quarantine or a cure. Finally, we examine the impact of regular, impulsive reductions in the number of zombies and derive conditions under which eradication can occur. We show that only quick, aggressive attacks can stave off the doomsday scenario: the collapse of society as zombies overtake us all.

[. . .]

The key difference between the models presented here and other models of infectious disease is that the dead can come back to life. Clearly, this is an unlikely scenario if taken literally, but possible real-life applications may include allegiance to political parties, or diseases with a dormant infection.

[. . .]

In summary, a zombie outbreak is likely to lead to the collapse of civilisation, unless it is dealt with quickly. While aggressive quarantine may contain the epidemic, or a cure may lead to coexistence of humans and zombies, the most effective way to contain the rise of the undead is to hit hard and hit often. As seen in the movies, it is imperative that zombies are dealt with quickly, or else we are all in a great deal of trouble.

You can read the study in its entirety here.

Lesson Learned

2011-07-27T10:11:00.001-04:00

If you notice that an old man in the change room at the gym is wearing the same underwear as you, the correct reaction is apparently not to point at your crotch and go, "Heyyyy!"

This will only make that old man look terrified, then ask "What's that?!"

When you explain that you were simply pointing out that you were both wearing the same underwear, he will not find it amusing.

The rest of the time you both spend getting dressed will be extremely awkward.

Dispatch From Mexico

2011-07-25T07:00:00.009-04:00

When some people drink, they get philosophical.

Others get sad, angry, or bitter.

Personally, I like to find a happy middle ground; a nice, whimsical, ragey balance somewhere near bitterness and flirting with cynicism and yet still brave enough to tackle the tough topics like the general malaise of the modern worker. And so it is, in this "Pen Blogging" sweet spot, we find ourselves for this, the fourth transcript from the ongoing Tequila Diary of The Real Johnson.

Dispatch From Mexico

Why is it that one can only truly realize the absolute madness and futility of working away in some office somewhere when one has been thoroughly soaked in foreign sun and strong drink?

It seems near universal that vacationing North Americans come to realize, with a sort of pulse-stopping certainty, that the silly way they spend eight hours of five days each week is absolutely not what they want to be—nay, should be—doing with their lives.

And yet, without fail, we will all slog back to that futile monotony the day after the vacation ends.

There must be some way to bring that foreboding sense of urgency home.

What does it take to wake us up to the realization that our jobs suck and we are wasting our time?

Do I need to disconnect the TV and the internet?

Or hire a Mexican to bring me a constant stream of cheap beer and margaritas?

That's My Mayor!

2011-07-22T14:07:00.001-04:00

‘I will assure you that services will not be cut, guaranteed’ ~Rob Ford, Mayoral Candidate, October 8th, 2010

Suggestions (thus far) for potential city budget cuts in a proposal by consulting firm KPMG comissioned by the mayor and released Thursday July 21st:

library closures,
fire and police department layoffs,
reduced snow clearing and street sweeping,
the elimination of 2,000 daycare subsidies,
scrapping a program that funds 685 student nutrition programs,
scrapping 42 AIDS prevention projects,
cutting funding for 38 community drug prevention programs,
privatizing long-term care homes,
closing the zoos at High Park and Centre Island,
closing the Toronto Environment Office,
scrapping the urban agriculture program that lets out land to local gardeners,
making it more difficult to be eligible for Wheel Trans, the city's transit service for people with disabilities,
instituting a hiring freeze on police officers, and
cutting Christmas Bureau, a program that distributes gifts and donations to needy children.

But don't worry, Rob Ford knows what Torontonians really want!

They want to feel safe, they want roads that are clean and without potholes and they want their garbage picked up.

These, he said, “are the three high-level issues that people really want us to deal with.”

~Mayor Rob Ford, July 22

Be sure to stay tuned as the proposed cuts from KPMG continue to get released over the next four days!

Sources/More info:

Mayor Ford invites residents to tell him what to keep, cut

‘I will assure you that services will not be cut, guaranteed’

Riverdale Farm, park zoos move to chopping block

10 options for Ford to boil down the budget

A Note on Buffets

2011-07-20T07:00:00.000-04:00

Nearing the end of our honeymoon, the fourth installment of The Tequila Diary found me waxing philosophical about breakfast....

A Note on Buffets

In theory, a buffet is an awesome thing: a choose-what-will, all-you-can-eat meal.

In practice though, there is always something inherently gross about buffet. I'll never quite be free of feeling a bit like cattle every time I saunter up to the trough, grab a plate and vie for a place in the queue behind other slavering, jostling, hungry buffet-goers.

Even in a five-star resort, there's just something off-putting about an entire stainless steel insert full of nothing but bacon. That's just...too much bacon in one place.

And I feel like even in the classiest and most upscale of beach-side hotels there's always going to some asshole who thinks it's okay to go to breakfast in his bathing suit.

Do I really want to line up behind some dickhead who just peed in the pool so that we can both fight over a mound of huevos rancheros with our slotted spoons?

Two words: Room Service.

*unless they have those delectable little cinnamon rolls again. I'll eat a plateful of those fuckers.

El Johnson Verdad

2011-07-15T07:00:00.000-04:00

Every once in a while, a man has a moment where he's certain he's finally done something right.

Let's be honest, most guys have very long stretches where we essentially just fuck everything up.

So when those moments when things actually go your way come along, you've got to learn to be able to kick back, take a long hard look and say, "I done good."

I was lucky enough to have two of those moments in rapid succession recently. The first, undoubtedly, was marrying my very long-term girlfriend at the end of June. That was a no brainer. I done real good there.

The second moment came, just a few days into my honeymoon, after having first sipped Un Johnson Verdad.

In retrospect, yes, this "creation" seems to be pretty far from original.

I imagine I'm not the first person to combine these ingredients in one glass and, indeed, some very basic Googling reveals that similar concoctions exist under monikers like The Beer Margarita, The Desperado, and the creatively named, Beerita.

However, when I came up with the recipe for this drink—poolside, trying to decide between tequila and beer— this formula hit my brain like some magical, alcoholic revelation, and in that moment I was without a doubt the smartest and most original man in the history of the universe.

And so, in the interest of sharing my liver-destroying joy with the world, and in my constant pursuit of journalistic integrity, I feel compelled to share with you, as the third installment of The Tequila Diary, the recipe for the greatest summer drink you'll ever have, El Johnson Verdad. Enjoy.

El Johnson Verdad

Ingredients

1 large shot of El Jimador tequila (or any other 100% agave tequila)
1 pint of Corona (or any other appropriately light and pissy-tasting Mexican beer)
1/2 shot of lime juice.

Method

Combine all ingredients in a glass.
Under no circumstances should you add ice.
Garnish with a lime wheel, and serve with a Malboro Light.

Join Bklyn

2011-07-13T17:00:00.002-04:00

We interrupt this Real Johnson broadcast to bring you this important public service announcement...

Some really cool people I know have started a really cool website that you really cool people should go check out.

It'd be really cool if you did.

As of this writing, Join Bklyn is still in BETA testing, but basically it's a reader that gathers cool and interesting feeds from other sites - with a focus on those sites that may be about, or of interest to, Brooklyn, NY where the site's creators reside.

If you like cool stuff (and hate the letter "r" and excessive use of the letter "o"), and feel like spreading a little internet love today, go check it out at www.joinbklyn.com and maybe offer the lovely ladies of Join Bklyn a little feedback if you see something you like, or even something you maybe don't like.

They're also still actively looking for cool sites to feature so if you're a blogger, feel free to promote yourself like a hooker on a cold December morning the day before rent is due.

Thank you. Regular Real Johnson content will resume with the third installment of The Tequila Diary on Saturday.

Ten Types of People I Want To Punch in The Face (This Week): Vacation Edition

2011-07-10T10:00:00.001-04:00

As even a casual reader of The Real Johnson might guess, I have, from time to time, been accused of being a bit of a "grumpy" person, to put it politely.

And, while I've often argued that I'm really not that grumpy, the fact that I found time to compose yet another hand-written list of people I want to punch - even as I enjoyed tropical sun and all the booze I can drink on my honeymoon - might serve as evidence to the contrary.

Ah well.

Allow me to present further evidence of my grumpiness in this transcript from my notebook for the second installment in the ongoing series, The Real Johnson Tequila Diary.

Ten Types of People I Want To Punch in The Face (this week) - Vacation Edition

1. Early Chair Savers - There seems to be some sort of sick class of person here and in any resort setting that seems to like to add a stressful and annoying element to their vacation that includes a sort of aggressive hoarding as well as getting up far too early. I get that you probably need to get up a little earlier to grab good seats by the water or by the pool, but how frigging early are some of these people getting up? Can we establish a time after which seats might reasonably be saved? Maybe 10am?

As it is now, I'm on vacation and yet, unless I want to be banished to some obscure corner of the resort near the loud drainage pipe and the iguana infestation, I need to get up, drag my ass to the pool and put a towel on a "good" seat. This is bullshit. Half these people don't even use their goddamn seats all day. I'm firmly planted in my seat pretty much all god damn day getting liquored up and sun-burned. I haven't seen you at your prime spot, right where the servers come from the bar, all damn day. Your towel really seems to enjoy it there though.

And yes, you need to put a towel on that fucker. I don't acknowledge the authority of a casually strewn hat or magazine. Without a towel, that seat is still fair game. I'll sit on your hat and when you come to complain, I will punch you in the face.

2. Speedo Guys - Perhaps it's because there seems to be a larger contigency of South American and European people at this resort than there are North Americans, but I am shocked and appalled to learn of the continued, widespread and disgusting popularity of the male speedo. No one looks good in this. No one.

3. Thong Bikini Girls - Don't get me wrong. In principle the thong is a beautiful thing. It shows off the female bum, which is also, clearly a beautiful thing. However, there are two things that make the thong inappropriate for the beach:
i) It's the beach. The beach isn't really the place to show off your entire ass
ii) The type of people that seem to want to show their entire asses off are never, ever, the type of people that have asses that warrant showing off.

4. Americans.

5. "Bros" (and "Hos") - These people come under many different names - douchebags, ginos (ginas), guidos (guidas? guidettes?), etc. - but they're all essentially the same. They're a fairly frequent object of scorn at The Real Johnson and, here at the beach and on vacation, they seem to be faring no better; possibly even worse.

On vacation, Bros and Hos comprise this multi-national network of douchebaggery that seems to take relaxing to some ridiculous, testosterone and caffeinated-alcohol fueled level that is all about who is having the better time. These assholes think vacationing means they must get the most "smashed," take in the most sun, hit all the best bars, stay up the latest, hit on the most chicks (or get hit on by the most dudes) etc.

I hate them not only for their general aesthetic principals (cliched blownout hair, over-tans, barbwire/tribal tattoos, date rape) and intellect level ("Guy, pass me that US Weekly,") but for their innate ability to make me question my own relaxation. The Bros and Hos actually make me have self-doubting thoughts like, "Am I vacationing hard enough? Do I send Miguel for four margaritas this round as opposed to my usual two?" And for making me doubt even my own sense of enjoyment while I drink myself numb under a tropical sun, please set the tanning oil down on the swim-up bar, come on over here and allow me to punch you in the face.

6. Kids.

OK I won't leave that one unexplained for fear that I might seem like (more of) an asshole. I don't want to punch (all) kids in the face. Technically, I want to punch their parents. I actually like kids. But just not on my vacation.

I get that having kids is hard. I get that it would be very difficult to travel with children. Here's an idea: Don't do it.

Leave the kids with your parents and have an actual vacation.

If you must travel with your kids, consider this: Kids are fussy. They cry. They have virtually constant needs.

You know what they don't need? All-inclusive five star resorts. You're really not going to get to enjoy the comforts of the hotel and bar and endless supply of alcohol whilst toting around a screaming toddler. Why not do everyone a favour, get yourself a few cases of cheap beer and take them to a cheap motel near some sort of Disney attraction? You'll save money and we'll all be happy you did it.

7. The Person That Invented Aquafit - What masochistic asshole was sitting around a quiet pool one day, happily sipping a cold drink, reading a magazine and thought, "You know what would be great right about now? Insanely loud club music and an overly-enthusiatic woman in a bathing suit and sneakers yelling incoherently at four old people in this pool lifting their arms over their head." Whoever you are, I am reserving an absoultely massive punch for you.

8. It's probably a combination of the fact that I'm actually having a great time, the fact that it's hard to work up a good rage in this tropical climate, and the fact that I've been drinking since 10am, but I can only come up with seven people I want to punch this week.

Ciao.