Thursday, January 31, 2008

Revenge of the Empire

A poor aussie bloke, Craig Donaldson 23, thought he might take a backpacking tour of the old country, England that is. He was visiting Greenwich Park in London, when all of a sudden out of the blue he was hit by a, wait for it, he was hit in the head by a bloody boomerang. He suffered a nasty gash to the head. His assailant was a precious little short-panted kid. Talk about a case of cosmic irony, was this guy doing something wrong in his past life. The chances of that happening are about the same as me myself being hit by a flying beaver, being a canuck. 1 in a trillion chances, it goes to show you this sure is a strange world we inhabit.

I can imagine the horrible little gobsitte going home for tea, after a hard day harassing us colonial types. I bet the little rotters name is Colin, typical gobsitte name. He walks throught the door, and his proud mother bellows"O Colin, How was your day, up to anything exciting". Colin replies " O Mommy I was down at the park and saw one of those horrid colonials prowling around" Mommy " Good lord Colin are you ok, what did you?". Colin I showed him what for Mommy, I gave him a good clout around the ears with me boomerang". Mommy" By Jove Colin what a clever boy you are, after all England should be for the English, not those bloody colonial types". Colin" You got that right Mommy, can I have some pudding for afters". O those quaint British.

So my fellow colonials if you are planning a trip to jolly old England keep your wits about you and keep watching the Sky and watch out for little kids named Colin.

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Monday, August 27, 2007

Best of the Worst of YouTube

At first I felt kind of bad laughing at these kids. I thought this performance was taking place at some high school or college, and they were part of some kind of glee or drama club. I found out recently that they are actually Dutch idol contestants at a professional football match. If these are the best singers Holland can put up, man we have nothing to worry about in the rest of the music competition world. Please laugh at them, it's good for your health.

Thursday, May 24, 2007

What If ?

One christmas past I was listening to christmas music on the radio. There were the usually well loved hynms and old standards. When all of a sudden a song came up about a most particular event that happened during the great war to end all wars. This beautiful song really struck me as a song that truly illustrates the true meaning and spirit of christmas more than any other song I have heard. The song was written bt John McCutcheon in 1984 and is called "The Christmas Truce"; about a truce on the western front during the first yule time of the war.

The First World War can be considered one of the most terrible in history. The full industrial might of the European powers were used against each other, with horrific results. A generation of young men were lost due to the terrible effects of the machine gun, quick firing artillery, and gas. The dominant feature of this war was the trench. Due to these new terrible weapons, the men had to dig a series of trenches to protect themselves. In western Europe the trench line ran from Switzerland north to the english channel. These trenches were mainly glorified ditches which were filled with water and crawling with rats. The troops had to endure living in these ditches for 4 bloody years. Also the effect of modern arillery turned the green fields of France and Belgium into lifless moonscapes full of unburied corpses and mud. All these elements added together made this war literally hell on earth.

Out of this terrible war of blood and mud, there were some stories of the intrisic goodness of mankind and hope. In the first year of the war, the intial battles were fought over wide open fields with fast moving armies, but already the troops began to take note of the terrible killing power of modern weapons. So as a result by that winter they have already began to seek refuge in trenches, which would be the main tactical element forthe rest of the war.

This spontaneous christmas truce; mainly happened in the British sector of the Ypres salient, which was basically a bulge into the Germans lines. According to eryewitness accounts, mainly British ones. On the night of December 25, there was all kinds of noise and movement along the German trench lines. Germans were standing up in their trenches with no free of getting shot and christmas trees with candles were being put up over the parapet. Also they could hear the beautiful German hymn "Stille Nacht, Heilge Nacht" (Silent Night, Holy Night) wafting over from the Fritz's lines, the brits replied with some of their traditional carols and songs. Soon men from both sides were seen moving out into no-man's land towards each others's trenches. In some sectors notes of peace and good tidings were tied around rocks or grenades and tossed at the enemy's trenches. Soon caution gave way to the spirit of the night and the trenches began to empty of men and they began to meet as comrades in no-man's- land. There they exchanged food and drink, tobacco, talked and sang, and in one report there was a friendlly football game between the Brits and germans, illuminated by flares. Some of the men also exchanged home address so they could write to each other after the war. They also showed pictures of loved ones to each other and talked of their homes and families.

The truce went on for a few more days, until the higher ups began to find out about this unauthorised fraternisation and forbide them from meeting each other. You can not win a war by humanizing the enemy, lets get back to the great old european tradition of butchering each other, for king and kaiser and all that. The next christmas of 1915 orders were given so as not to have a repeat and artillery barrages were ordered on the nights around christmas.

There was a telling incident in the sector occupied by the London Scottish during this event. They were across the way from a saxon regiment and it seems that they got on famously. It seems that the Saxons were expecting some staff officers to show up around midnight on one of the days of the truce. So they seen a message to the Scots tellingt them that around midnight on that particular night they would be firing their machine gfuns to impresss these higher ups. They added in thier message that they would be firing high above thier heads so as not to hit anyone, nice chaps what?

You must think the old pryvett is getting soft in the head, but no. I have always loved this song and I just found the lyrices to it and i always wanted to share it with other people. It gives one hope in the intrisic goodness of us all, that there is a chance that we may someday get our act together and come together as one, and get on making this world truly a better place. I know I am starting to sound like John Lennon, but just imagine. If these fellows who were just hours before were trying to literally rip each others guts out can come together in such warmth and fellowship, I think there is hope for us.

Also this great event has me asking What if? What if this truce spread along the lines and everyone realizes the that we are all the same underneath with mothers, fathers,brothers, sisters, wifes, and children and they dropped there arms and went home. That they told all the kings, princes, prime ministers, and generals to get stuffed and fight their own war, would history be different. would the 20th centuary be one of the bloodest in history? Would World War I be truly the war to end all wars: I don't know, but the question does haunt me. Speaking of families one of the ironic facts of this war was most of the european royal families were related. They were all connected by Queen Victoria of great Britian whoes children married into the royal houses of Europe. The German Kaiser was her grandson. What a family squabble, too bad they could not keep it behind closed doors, and not drag millions of others into it.

Well below is the lyrices to this great song. One small quibble I have with the song is the authors makes reference to gas in it. The problem with that is gas was not used on the western front until the second battle of Ypres in april of 1915. Well It is used to good efect, because gas is one of the terrible iconic weapons of this war and he makes an artistic point with it.

Christmas in the Trenches
by John McCutcheon
My name is Francis Tolliver, I come from Liverpool.
Two years ago the war was waiting for me after school.
To Belgium and to Flanders, to Germany to here
I fought for King and country I love dear.
'Twas Christmas in the trenches, where the frost so bitter hung,
The frozen fields of France were still, no Christmas song was sung
Our families back in England were toasting us that day
Their brave and glorious lads so far away.

I was lying with my messmate on the cold and rocky ground
When across the lines of battle came a most peculiar sound
Says I, "Now listen up, me boys!" each soldier strained to hear
As one young German voice sang out so clear.
"He's singing bloody well, you know!" my partner says to me
Soon, one by one, each German voice joined in harmony
The cannons rested silent, the gas clouds rolled no more
As Christmas brought us respite from the war
As soon as they were finished and a reverent pause was spent
"God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen" struck up some lads from Kent
The next they sang was "Stille Nacht." "Tis 'Silent Night'," says I
And in two tongues one song filled up that sky
"There's someone coming toward us!" the front line sentry cried
All sights were fixed on one long figure trudging from their side
His truce flag, like a Christmas star, shown on that plain so bright
As he, bravely, strode unarmed into the night
Soon one by one on either side walked into No Man's Land
With neither gun nor bayonet we met there hand to hand
We shared some secret brandy and we wished each other well
And in a flare-lit soccer game we gave 'em hell
We traded chocolates, cigarettes, and photographs from home
These sons and fathers far away from families of their own
Young Sanders played his squeezebox and they had a violin
This curious and unlikely band of men

Soon daylight stole upon us and France was France once more
With sad farewells we each prepared to settle back to war
But the question haunted every heart that lived that wonderous night
"Whose family have I fixed within my sights?"
'Twas Christmas in the trenches where the frost, so bitter hung
The frozen fields of France were warmed as songs of peace were sung
For the walls they'd kept between us to exact the work of war
Had been crumbled and were gone forevermore

My name is Francis Tolliver, in Liverpool I dwell
Each Christmas come since World War I, I've learned its lessons well
That the ones who call the shots won't be among the dead and lame
And on each end of the rifle we're the same

© 1984 John McCutcheon - All rights reserved

Here is a link to a video fo the song with John McCutheon;

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

Whack Your Boss!!!!!!

Continuing with a favorite theme of mine, as my contribution to good mental health, I would like to present this little tidbit. I was forwarded this great little game. Imagine you come home from another dreay day at work, being lorded over by your version of the blind idiot god, ie your boss. Well my friends do I have the cure for you. This game is called Whack Your Boss, O Boy!

In the game you will see a typical overworked, overstressed employee, being verbally abused by his elongated headed boss, who just keeps blathering on and on, because he believe that the world likes to hear his glorious pronouncements and the sound of his voice. Placed around the cubical are various tools and implements, which with the right attitute can be used to inflict great bodly harm on a human being. There are suppose to be 15 tools of rightious vengence in the room, you get a point for everone you find. When you click on an object, the meek and mellow fellow explodes in a rage of glorious violence, and makes the head idiot pay for ever insult and sin he has committed. The results can be very bloody and O so satisfying. Some of the objects are less ovious, so keep clicking around. The old pryvatte only found 13 out of 15, which surprised me, because I was totally body and soul into this game.

So enjoy the game workers of the world, there is nothing so satisfying as plunging a pen into your bosse's eye socket, O sorry I mean figuratively of course, not for real, He He He. Hey I am dealing with my issues here in a constructive and safe way. A footnote, the fellow who sent me this game is one of my best friends and he is part of the management cabal, but he is an acception to the rule. He is a stand up guy, I wish there were more chaps like him in management; work may actually be a more pleasant place. I must conceal his name to protect the innocence. Well get whacking, O sorry that does not sound right , you know what I mean. Here is the LinK Enjoy and se if you can beat my score

Monday, November 27, 2006

I May be Houndni's Son??

This past Halloween my dear old dad turned 80 years old, my how time flies when you are having fun. Good God ya all, that means I must be getting up there my self. I better break out the Grecian formula, extra strength. Well enough about my vanity, there is an interesting and strange fact about my dad's birthday that is kind of eerie and weird. He was born the same day and year as the great magician Houndini died: October 31, 1926. Another weird fact is; Houndini died at the grace hospital in Detroit, Michigan right across the river from where my dad and I presently live, OOO that's scary.

Houndini, arguable one of the greatest magicians in history was felled by peritonites, a condition caused by the rupturing of the appendix, that poisons the body. He had a trick where he would take full power punches to his body and not be harmed by flexing his abdominal muscles. In during a show in Montreal a certain McGill university student named J. Gordon Whitehead came back stage and punched Houndini before he was ready, thus rupturing his appendix. Houndini being the consummate showman soldiered on to his next gig in Detroit. He collaspsed on stage there and died in hospital a few days later. I must add a footnote, hey way to be to a Canadian for be resposible for the death of the great Houndini. Stand up job Mr Whitehead, you need a metal or something.

Anyways, due to the fact that my dear old dad entered this veil of tears the same day as houndini left, made me think of an intriguing possibility. That my dad is the reincarnation of Houndini, there are many striking similarities between them First as I said before Houndini could probly be argued to be one of the greatest magicians and escapist in the world. He had a great mechanical aptitude and could design and build great complex magic tricks.My dad, being a professional engineer, has a great aptitude and ability to design. I know in his professional life he was always desiging and figuring out problems. On the domestic front if anything needed to be fixed or renovated or added to my father would get out the pencil and paper and figure it out. We saved thousands of dollars on repair and contractor's bills, due to my dad's great ability to solve problems, maybe they should send him to the middle east to figure that mess out. That maybe even beyond his capabilities.

Houndini was a master at disappearing, so is my father, especially when he goes to the Canadian Tire store or Wal- mart. Sometimes we have to send in a tracking dog to find him.

Another weird fact is althought my father was born in Niaragra Falls, Ontario, he ultimately ended up residing in and around Windsor, Ontario right across the river from Detroit. Could this be an example of Houndini"s spirit returning to the place of it's death for some strange reason. I do not know this maybe a case for the X-files.

Another fact to think about was Houndini was indirectly killed by a McGill university student. My dad is a graduate of the University Of Toronto , could this be an example of college rivarly gone way too far. I do not know it gives one something to ponder. I do not know if I have inherited any of Houndini's?
/Dad's traits. I really do not have much of an mechanical aptitude. I have more of interest in history or books, and asian nurses(O Sorry, I digress). I am not really good at making thinks disappear, except for food and people's patience. Sometimes I do get lost and disappear. Well I am not totally sure if I believe in reincarnation, but It makes one wonder, eh?

I found out some other strange facts about Houndini's death, when I was researching it. First of all he was 52 years of age when he went to the great beyond. 52 is the exact number of cards in a deck of playing cards, one of the basic parts of a magicians bag of tricks, interesting, eh? He was born 26 years before the start of the 20th century and he died 26 years after the 20th century started. Also 26 X 2 is 52. Also I have been written up exactly 26 times at work for disciplinary problems. O the hairs on the back of my neck are going up.

I would just like to say in conclusion, Happy birthday to my dear old dad. I could not ask for a better and kinder father, who has helped me innumerable times over the years and has shown a great amount of love and patience, and is a great role model to me. Thanks for everything dad and may you rant and roar for another 80years.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Sock That Bastard Right In The Nose.

As I was suffering at work, watching the one celled bits of protoplasm they call managers doing their thing. An idea struck me like a hammer of the gods. I know here in north america we have such events as secretary days, bring your brat to work day, and bosses day( I do not know why), we should have an employee"s day, that will really bring the spirits of them up. I believe we should have a Punch Your Boss in the Nose Day. Imagine what a morale builder this would be, it would bring up productivity dramatically, if the poor downtrodden employee gets to let his boss know what he really feels about him. It would be a true barometer of a manager's performance, if this person gets the shit punched out of them Every year, I think that would be a good sign that this person is most likely not doing a good job, and the upper uppity ups should look into this persons performance. This event would not enforce mandatory violence, if the boss is really a good person and manager, they have nothing to fear from their underlings, but on the other hand if they are the typical blind idiot god, than God help them.

Where I work and slave we take a online survey to get a feeling about how we really feel. I believe that many of the results are bogus, because I hear all the time from my fellow slaves how the place is badly run and how they hate working there. Unfortunately when the results of the survey come out, there are like 75% approval rates, yeah right. I believe the results are tampered with or some of my fellow workers lose their nerve when they are in the voting booth. A lot of the times the company splits a shift between two supervisors, usually one is a prick and the other one is pretty decent, so they get you to split your vote, between the two. So you can never totally say your super is good or bad. To get around this I go with the negative so the gobshiie manager will hopefully get his. The company uses this survey mainly as a means to placate us docile sheep into thinking, Gee they really care what we think, man are they ever swell. Instead of using it as a learning tool to fix what is wrong, it is used as a PR ploy. Just think how much more effective a little ultra violence would be to their fact finding mission.

This practice would make a more decent human class of blind idiot gods. If they knew that due to their actions, their underlings would be letting them know how they feel about their performance with their fists and feet, they may think twice about their asshole ways and smarten up and fly right.

As far as how this would work, I have two ideas. The first may let the boss off a little. The idiot would be fitted with a boxing helmet, chest protector, and a groin cup. The employee would wear a pair of boxing gloves and would be allowed to pound away for 3 minutes or so. Kicking or eyegouging would not be allowed. They could hit anywhere on the body. The second way or the pryette way, would be everything goes, punching, kicking, kneeing and grappling, with no pads for the idiot. Would this not be much more satisfying, OO the power and the glory, what fun. An added bonus would be after a session like this the boss would have an all expenses paid medical vacation. Winners all away around.

I know I sound like a dreamer, but I am not the only one, please consider this new day or holiday it would do wonders for the morale and mental health of the work force. Remember punch a boss a day keep the blues away.

Friday, August 25, 2006

You Can Get Anything You Want At Hitler's Restaurant

Imagine that you are going out for a nice sunday afternoon meal with your family at a fine restaurant, and to your horror a great portrait of Herr Hitler greets you as you enter the building. No this is not some crazy scene from a Mel Brooke's film, but reality. Yes a crazy Indian businessman has opened "The Hitler's Cross" restaurant in a Mumbai, India, (used to be called Bombay). This mad so called genius; Punit Shabalok actually said "we are not promoting Hitler", "we want to be different. This is one name that will stay in people's minds, we want to be different in the way he was different". So you want to be different like the little corporal, what a great marketing ploy. So you want to be a hateful homicidal ranting madman, with delusions of grandeur, what a way to run a restaurant. Hey wait a minute, read my blog about blind idiot gods, this guy maybe on to something. Another pearl of wisdom from the manager: Fatima Kabane: "" This place is not about wars or crimes, but where people come to relax and enjoy a meal". quite a disconnect there, fatima. Nothing says fine dining to me like the third Reich and memories of world war II, and the holocaust.

As I said before the inner decor is very striking indeed, not only is there the large picture of one of the greatest mass murders in history hanging on the wall. there is a tasteful motif of swastikas all over the walls, with a relaxing colour scheme of red, white and black, the official colors of the nazi party. The road leading to this house of mirth and relaxation is bordered with posters advertising the restaurant. One which proclaims"From small bites to mega Joy". That sounds like something from right from the nazi ministry of propaganda. These guys have all the bases covered.

I believe Mr Shabalok is crazy like a fox. I think he knows precisely what kind of response he will get by using such an infamous name, loads and loads of free publicity.. He knows that in India there is little chance of any major repercussions due to many factors. First there are only about 5,500 jews in all of india. Secondly historical awareness about the holocaust and the third Reich are not great in his country. To many of the average indians, Hitler is just another historical figure like Martim Luther King. This is not surprising, we in the west have a historical blind spot too, many people are ignorant of 20th century history, and we also have holocaust deniers in our mist. Also the swastika in india has a long ancient history. It is used in Buddhist art and is considered a good luck symbol in Hinduism. So he does not really have much to worry about from the general public or the government. I would be worried myself due to karma, I think he maybe pushing his luck cosmically. Also he may have to worry about an Israeli airstrike, you know they are not making jews like Jesus anymore, they do not turn their cheek, just ask hamas.

I was wondering what the menu would be like there, traditional german food, but I feel that this guy has a real marketing flair. So we may get entrees like swastika steak with a side of blitzkrieg potatoes, or U-Boat swordfish with deep fryed depth charges. You know something really punchy and memorable like that. Gee I wonder if they have a seperate kosher menu? The owner also said he is thinking of opening more franchises in the future. I know some great potential locations. I would open a whole lot in the middle east, I bet they would go over like the protocols of zion at an meeting of the Iran government. I would also open up some in south america to take advantage of the nazis in exile market. They are problaly a little homesick after being underground since the end of world war II, give them a little light in their twilight years. I wonder if Mel Gibson is going to buy a franchise, hey you never know stranger things have happened.

This fiasco reminds me of another what the hell were they thinking moment from hollywood. It happened in a very good film called "Out of Focus", It was a biopic about the actor Bob Krane, who had some very strange hobbies. While any ways his one claim to fame was he starred in a 60's sitcom called "Hogan"s Heroes". What was so unique about this show was it took place in a german prisoner of war camp during WW II. I believe it was the first and last time a comedy series took place in a POW camp. O the comic possibilities. While any ways according to the film I saw the producers of this series decided to have a press reception after the first season to prompt it more. This was standard practice in show business, the only problem was that all the wait staff were dressed in SS uniforms. The fact that US show business is made up of a lot of people of jewish decent, did not bode well for these producers. I do not know if there were any negative repercussions, but I imagine their junket went over like a lead zepplian. You just have to shake your head sometimes, and wonder how mankind has progresses so far. I think it is by sure dumb blind luck sometime.

I think this sorry episode shows one of the curses of mankind very well. That being that we collectively forget, as the events of the past get further and further away and as the people die off who lived throught these events they lose their significant, lessons and thier horrors in some cases. That's why I believe that history is an important and vital subject that most be taught to our young especially, so we do not forget the horrors and triumpths of the past, so we are not cursed to repeat them over and over again.