Do You Know Where Your Bottled Water Comes From?

I'm wondering how many people caught this article last week on the whole bottled water brouhahahaha. It seems that 25% of our bottled water doesn't come from a spring, it comes from a tap:

The FDA requires that when a community water system source is used, the label must include "from a community water system" or "from a municipal source." However, and here's where both brands labels can be misunderstood, if the water is distilled, deionized or uses reverse osmosis it can be called "purified water." And it does not have to state on its label that it is "from a community water system" or "from a municipal source."

Both the Coke brand (Dasani) and the Pepsi brand (Aquafina) come from a tap, although they are deionized or distilled.

Clean water isn't the issue I have with Dasani or Aquafina, the lack of a label telling me it comes from a tap is the issue I have. I figure that if I'm forking out $1.29 for a small bottle of Dasani, they could at least tell me it's not *pure, from a spring*, it's from the same place that drooling kids stick their faceholes on to get a drink in the summer.

I know a few newfies that always laughed when I brought a bottle of water with me to City Hall. They would ask me how much I paid and I'd tell them I paid a buck or so. They'd chuckle and say they paid nuttin', they got it straight from a tap. I'd tell them that mine is spring water, and they'd giggle and say, "sure it is".

Who would have guessed that a newfie would know better than I? I am so embarrassed I want to kill myself.

H2 oh my God, this stuff is crap

Ringo Starr Is Feeling Better

In an interview with Glamour magazine, one of the least important Beatles admits he had gastric bypass surgery to fix his out of control weight problem:

Now, in the September issue of Glamour, she's admitting that, yes, she had gastric bypass surgery – despite previously only admitting to having undegone a "medical intervention."

She? What the...the article is about who? It's not about Ringo Starr? It's about Star Jones? Who gives a shit what Star Jones has to say? Wow, what a bummer. You may as well just skip this useless junk and get on to some important stuff, like my article on what's better on a salad, bacon bits or croutons?

Life, it's a gas

Horoscope for the week of July 30, 2007

The secrets of the ancients can be yours. Do you desire to know? Do you have the will power to dare to make the climb? Are you silent in your observations? Pay attention and they will give themselves to you.

Aries: You are neither hindered by the higher powers, nor assisted. Not a great week for world domination, but not a bad week for the simpler pleasures in life, either. Earthy pleasures abound, and you casual lovers will be best pushed out of bed when you are done with, and sent home in a cab.

Taurus: A bar brawl turns into a demonstration of your superior qualities, Taurus. Not quite your planned evening out, but, it is always pleasant to fracture some dullards collar bone. Your lover will please you more in proportion to the number of stitches you inflict on your opponent.

Gemini: A call, a summoning to close to home will bring you back into the environment of those strange people that so deserve to be dissected for humanitarian reasons. Arm yourself and be prepared for the unexpected when you put down the phone. You have been warned.

Cancer: Your wit knows no bounds. Surely, you are the messenger of the gods this week. Apply yourself to a few problems that you have been avoiding, and harvest a rich reward from the crowd.

Leo: Your birthday is a day for your admirers to worship you like the god you are. Expect lots of presents, and demonstrate your superior nature by acting humble and thoughtful. Think of Oscar as you accept the adulation of the mud encrusted peasants. Expect a foot massage from your most loyal fan.

Virgo: You will experiment with a new sexual technique with a newer lover this week. Be discrete, as this new plaything will last for two weeks before the deceitful turd reveals their pre-existing relationship to some dullard. Your darker fantasies of domination will be both expressed and fulfilled.

Libra: If you adopt a disguise, you may experience the experiences of either Pisces or Cancer. To remain in the guise of Cancer, conceal silver about your person. To remain in the guise of Pisces, conceal gold.

Scorpio: You will be opposed by an aggressor in the late evening if you linger in a place that serves foreign food or sells farm equipment. When making a choice or command decision, determine what is the best for your ego. Compromise, appeasement, or subjugation will only be a temporary and humiliating policy.

Sagittaurus: Your weariness at being in the eye of the hurricane of world events is complicated by the fact that you love it so much. Again, good fortune smiles upon you, but be clever and realize the difference between this good fortune and the illusion of world events. Search out the eternal and go towards that.

Capricorn: This week you will have vivid dreams that will cast insight upon your earnest questions that lead you to spiritual development. Unless, of course, you are a telemarketer, in which case sex is completely unsatisfying, your lovers (both of the companion and the harlot variety) are ugly with warts.

Aquarius: You are the prophet no one listens to this week. You can forsee the destiny of large numbers of people, but nobody really cares. So, be silent, and take comfort in the gifts you are given this week. They are yours alone, for now.

Pisces: From the greater ocean that is the sub-conscious will come the first signs of a greater catch that is coming to you. This week, you are the fisherman, and your attention to the responses on the line that leads to the hook that is in the mystery that you have, somehow, caught, are the first clues into this thing. Ultimately, you are creating this entity from your imagination, so steel your mind and craft something. This scenario will linger for the next three weeks.

Confidential to He who sits upon the throne of Onyx: Hah! Surely you jest! Pay attention to the materials that have already been placed in your hands. Surely there is the tools and material you seek. Bother me no more until you can cross my palms with silver.

I, Sargon the Magnificent, wrote this.

The Top 10 Most Revolting Women On The Planet--#1 Rosie O'Donnell

I'm sure this is absolutely no surprise to anyone that has ever read more than a week of Mitchieville, the #1 Most Revolting Woman on the Planet is Rosie *I've never met a cheeseburger I didn't like* O'Donnell.

Rosie O'Donnell is proof that $9.99 for an all you can eat buffet isn't really a deal after all. This scowling, sneering reptile looks like something that Japanese fishermen pulled up from a lagoon. You're blocking my sun, reinforce the earth and sit the hell down.

Whether it's her love of conspiracy theories (but only those that involve the American Gov't perpetrating them), her Anti-American views, her hatred of America's military, or her love of anything that could possibly cause embarrassment to the US, the human roadblock they call Rosie is a big hit in lefty circles. Righties also want her to be a big hit, of course they want the hit to come from their fist to her forehead, or better yet, from their Hummer to her skull.

Rosie O'Donnell is the enemy. She's a dangerous person. In many ways she's worse than any foreign enemy the US has. She has her bully pulpit which she uses pretty much every day to pump up our enemies, put down our troops and gov't and spew rhetoric and hatred that only Al Qaeda could pray to get. Some of you think I may have gone too far when I say Rosie is an enemy. Really? Prove me wrong.

Rosie is a spoiled bitch that has too much money and too few functioning brain cells. Her ideas are misconceived and trivial, she relies on emotion and no facts. She speaks of things she knows nothing about, and her fans lap it up like the emotional retards they are. People should be ashamed for liking this human splotch. Rosie O'Donnell is a worthless, miserable blight on humanity. She is a bitter, trashy, unimportant piece of shit that the world would be better off without. She is a poster child for everything useless.

Rosie O'Donnell not only takes the cake, she also eats it. In two, possibly three bites. She is the Most Revolting Woman on The Planet, and I'm sure if there is life outside our world, she would win the Most Revolting Woman in Our Galaxy, also.

Rosie O'Donnell, what a piece of work.

McAnarchists Protest McDonald's in Germany

German anarchists, lefties, anti-globalization and the all-around smelly crowd from a part of Germany called Kreuzberg are calling for McDonald's not to build a restaurant in their exclusive, trendy area:

The site's fence already is smeared with obscene anti-McDonald's graffiti, and the company has hired security guards to watch over it.

"Kreuzberg is a very alternative neighborhood," said Philipp Raschdorff, a spokesman for the group. "That's what distinguishes the area."

Organic grocers and twentysomethings in dreadlocks and sandals still coexist with Turkish kebab stands and immigrant women in headscarves pushing baby carriages. In the late 1980s, it was the scene of clashes between police and left-wing protesters every May Day.

The company found the average age of students in the area, which includes a vocational school, was over 20 years old.

And says one of the anti-this and anti-that crowd:

The local member of parliament, top Green party lawmaker, Hans-Christian Stroebele concedes there is no legal way to stop the restaurant but says: "I fear McDonald's, with all its media power, will tempt the students not to eat their sandwich and apple for lunch," he said.

First off, I'm not so sure anti-globalists and anarchists actually eat sandwiches and apples, that seems far too normal. I'm also not sure that kabobs are that much better for a person that McNuggets.

What the smelly crowd seems to hate more than anything, is change. I'm not the biggest fan of change myself, but I understand that with change comes progress (most of the times).

The smelly crowd doesn't understand that, or if they do, they don't care for progress. What is so idyllic about a small community of squatters and lazy kids that hang out, eating kabobs and chewing on organic foods? The answer is nothing is idyllic about it, it's only idyllic in the brains of short minded people.

The great thing about free choice is that if people hate McDonald's so much, they won't eat there. Without a profit, McDonald's will shut down, that's the way things work. No vegetarian is going to change their eating habit by giving up a plate of freshly mowed grass clippings and a glass of goat milk for a Big Mac and a large fries.

Plus, the average age of the community is 20. Twenty year olds aren't little children, they are adults. They are old enough to make their own decisions. Anarchists need to understand that.

Carnival of The Politically Correct Theme Song

I've decided that we need a theme song for our Carnival of The Politically Correct on Wednesday. After scouring my CD collection and the ample archives of YouTube, I found the perfect theme song for this extraordinary blogging event. I think you will all agree that this song is the very embodiment of political correctness:



If you have another Song of The Politically Correct you would like to see, leave a comment and we'll see about getting a couple other inspiring tunes up over the next few days.

Carnival of The Politically Correct Is Nearing

For those of you that haven't sent in your submissions for Wednesday's Carnival of the Politically Correct, I only have one thing to say to you: Get on your horse and ride, Sally.

Tonight at midnight is the cut-off date for submissions, I can't accept anything after that. I'm pretty pumped that the Carnival was stuck on *not too shit hot*, went to *Craptastic*, and now is at *Damn, it won't suck*. Thanks to you, it won't suck.

There are a few people who promised to send something in but haven't yet. You know who you are, I won't call you out, although I should. You should thank me that I have enough manners not to make a spectacle of you. Isn't that right Bruce, Bumf?

For the rest of you folks, there is still time to send in a politically correct link from your website. Whether it is old or new, I'm not picky, what is important is that we show the world what we are made of. Send me in your posts and have them displayed, somewhat proudly. It's the right thing to do.

There are 16 hours left. Let's make the best of it.

Equal time for Sorcery

I am sure we are all so amused and entertained by Sargon the Magnificent's rehash of leftovers of The Tarot. Like yesterdays dinner, it is the stuff for working families that are saving to buy a car. Wonderful. What about us tyrants? Where is the good stuff for us telemarketers, Sargon?

Not everybody chooses wisdom, Sargon. Some choose beauty. Just look at Paris, the prince of Troy (*). Lucky Paris. He gets to jump the bones of the most beautiful woman in the world while his homeland burns. Letting all those Greek illegal immigrants into the country was a bad idea then, and it is a bad idea now. So I can do without the slap and tickle.

As far as wisdom goes, Sargon, who cares? Acheiving immortality is not such a comforting option with Canada's health care system in the shape it is now. Waiting for another new hip does not appeal to me. Sure, the replaceable face technology is being developed (*), but I want something else other than the fawning affection of poets and thoughtful Hallmark cards on my endless birthdays.

I want power, Sargon. I want the heads of my enemies thrown at my feet. I want victory in war, the adulation of the crowd, and the fear of the Senate. Where is the ability to have those that displease me burst into flame? When shall you tell us how to have traffic lights turn green in an endless rolling carpet of the perfect driving experience? How do I always get a parking spot right in front of where I wish to go? I want an honest car mechanic ... I grow weary of sewing their lips shut.

I know a little about what you speak. I have read your books, remember. You offer up baby food for the soul. And what does it give but baby poop? Yes, this is fine for your Rasputin-like character, but I want more. Your readers want more. So, give it to us. Not everyone wishes to have polite conversation over tea and cucumber sandwiches. Some of us want to feed people to the ants.

Motivation by Fear. Oh, my, what a lovely young lady. Does she look familiar, Sargon? Hmmm? She looks so happy. She is surrounded by people who care about her. She has a bright future, filled with happiness and good fortune. Hmmm? I am sure that the health of this innocent comes first in your mind, as it does, at times, in mine. Let your fears for her future guide you in your decision. I am confident that you will make the right decision.

Motivation by Reward. There is a place for you, Sargon, at the Round Table. There will be plenty of empty chairs, I assure you. One will be yours. And a budget worthy of a Liberal cabinet minister, for you to spend on whatever soothes your conscious. Let it be arts spending, or public works, or even Landfills and Forestry.

Motivation by Reason. I know quite well the path I have choosen. There will be the rise, and the fall. I will not be in your hair for ever. You will outlive me. You can spit on my grave, when the time comes. You can wander among the ruins of my empire, a city here, a fortress there, a few cratered factories, some mutants living in valley of the Don river. You can feel smug and superior, later, just tell me what I want, now.

Do look at the photograph, Sargon. Much as the rack loostens the tongue, so too does the pulling on your heart strings cause you to tell what there is to know. I know you know. You know I know you know. And the last time I tried to do this, I got a plague of warts. Turning me into a crocodile, well, that was pretty funny, in hindsight. I can laugh at a joke, even when it is played on me. Ha ha ha. I want to climb the heights. Pluto is about to transit into Capricorn, Sargon. Someone is going to get their greasy paws on the iron crown. Those greasy paws should be mine. That someone should be ... me. You know I care.

Look at the picture. Get typing. Hurry.

I, Fenris Badwulf, who speaks for Tyrant-Canadians, wrote this exclusively at Mitchieville.

Alchemy for investors, part 6

To complete our study of the first row, turn your attention to the trumps The Lovers and The Chariot. These cards draw the eye, and inspire the imagination. One realizes that one is curious about the symbolism. Questions arise, and further observations, and more questions. One feels that one is a child again, and this is a new toy, a gift from your favourite uncle on Christmas morning.

Indeed, the Tarot is a gift. It was written before 'the book' was invented. Its' method of communication is similar to that of the language of the Ancient Egyptians. You would be wise to search out a knowledge of the grammar and syntax of those people, upon whose teachings the Greeks built their own sciences of mathematics and philosophy. This gift is not a necessary requirement of salvation. You can acheive all of your goals in life without the Tarot. Not everyone who studies it acheives anything. However, if you have a desire to learn, you will learn.

The Lovers represents the astrological sign Gemini. There is much detail on the card, and I direct your attention to only one pattern. Observe the angel and the female figure. One has arms upraised, the other, downturned. These symbol includes the property of contrast. Likewise, one figure looks down, the other looks up. Now observe the male and the female figure. Both have their arms downturned. The male figure looks to the female, and the female to the angel, and the angle gazes upon the female. This is a curious pattern ... let it consume you with curiosity, and let it fire your desire to learn its secret. There are other secrets on this card. The Lovers will teach you how to separate things, into like and unlike, similar and dissimilar.

The Chariot represents the correct relationship of the trinity of mind, emotions, and reason. Reason and the emotions are both similar (both being represented by the sphinx), yet different (being black and the other white). The mind controls both, but does not use reins or harness. Study of this card will calm your mind, and allow your emotions and reason to come into equilibrium and correct relationship to mind. You can also invoke these effects by contemplation of any enclosure. The Chariot is the beginning of any system of ritual magic.

Ritual magic involves creating an arrangement and temporal sequencing of symbols designed towards an end. Much as cutting the lawn requires a lawnmower, fuel, and a strong arm to both start the machine and to push it around the yard, so too does ritual magic work. Selection of your objective requires a balanced mind. Vengence is a dish best eaten cold, as they say. So, cultivate the balance that The Chariot illustrates. With balance, your ability to dispose of good and bad, useful and not, as shown by The Lovers, will manifest like quicksilver. When balanced, your ability to hear the higher voice of wisdom will be sharp, like The Hierophant. Balance will allow you to sit upon the throne of rulership, as The Emperor does. Upon that throne you will be first among equals, with the powers of The Magician, The High Priestess, and The Empress as your allies. With your conscious mind, you will formulate questions and suggestions, package them and deliver them to the subconsciousness as a farmer plants a seed, then, like a farmer, weed the crop that comes up. You will harvest what is good for you, and cut the rest down for your other purposes. And you will learn from your experiences. The first row of seven teaches the scientific method, first put to writing by the wise ancient egyptians. Accept no substitutes!

I, Sargon the Magnificent, wrote this, a Mitchieville exclusive.

Deja view

Was I suddenly transported back in time? I feel like this news has all been presented to you and I before.....let's see....Britany is pregnant again, Lindsay is busted for erratic driving and possession of drugs, A Simple Life star gets jail time.....yup I've definitely found a portal to the past. Time to invest in Google and RIM stock.

Drew Carey come on down!

You're the next host on "The Price Is Right"

"The Price Is Right" debuted on Sept. 4, 1972, before many of you were even born.
Almost 35 years later, it's the second-longest-running game show ever. Only "Sabado Gigante," a Spanish language variety show, has been on the air longer.

Remember that one the next time you play Trivial Pursuit. Actually I heard they chose Drew because he was the only host willing to get neutered.

House about that

I knew the T.O. housing market was hot but.....a woman in the Beach got $650,000 more than her asking price in a bidding war....

Warning to perspective buyers: watch out for mumified babies in the attic.

....and that overnight line you might have witnessed downtown was not for faithful fans waiting for concert tickets, or Harry Potter novels, it was Real estate Agents waiting for the next phase of a condo development to go on sale. A condo that will not be habitable for three years!

Looks like GIGC and myself picked a good time to sell our house, but a bad time to stop smoking crack.

Lyin' feline ain't lyin'

A US cat that is reportedly able to sense when a nursing home's residents are about
to die is baffling doctors.

Oscar has a habit of curling up next to patients at the home in Providence, Rhode Island, in their final hours.

According to the author of an article in the New England Journal of Medicine, the two-year-old cat has been observed to be correct in 25 cases so far.

Staff now alert the families of residents when he sits down next to their ailing loved one.

I've been so creeped out by this story since I heard it, I repeatedly kick the cat off the bed at night.

What do sugar, tar, and water have in common?

No....It's not the newest version of Lucky Charms with "Sugary moons, tars and clovers".

No....They are not all items found in Linsay Lohan's pants, nor are the sexual lubricants for Drew Carey.

Wrong again....They are not elements when mixed together can predict death.

If you said they were all loads being hauled in transport trucks that have flipped over on major highways in the Big Smoke in the past 2 weeks creating commuter chaos you'd be right.

You were probably sitting in grid-lock like I was swearing your face off?

Where's Johnny Wad #4



Truth is stranger than Strange

Inside Mitchieville - July 29, 2007

This commuter car is used by the Mayor to get to his important meetings in Markham. It does not use gasoline, so it generates 275 dollars an hour in carbon credits. Every hour of operation is equivalent to planting 12 acres of swamp. The Mayor never complains about traffic on the 401 now.

This is the new sculpture in the Plaza of the People. It is a reproduction of one in Trafalgar Square, in London. We got rid of the chimpanzees ... tourists do not like having poo thrown at them, apparently, even if it is carbon neutral. Their replacements, a troop of Bonobo, amuse the tourists with public masturbation and minstrel show antics.

This Mitchieville School Board Teacher is attending a Professional Development workshop in conflict resolution. He is wearing the new Mitchieville Board of Education Earthfriend leisure suit. He is learning how to deploy the Friendmaker9000 body heat seeking device. The Friendmaker uses a 500 gram Obliterite charge for graffiti eradication.

This is Lynxia, my new personal assistant. She is a graduate of the Ph.D program in Womyn's Studies from the University of Toronto. I am training her, personally. She is bilingual, and is fluent in french. She has not found a place in Mitchieville yet, so she is shacking up with me. Although she is a hard worker (you will often find her tied to her desk), she does like to have fun. At my suggestion, for community service work, she is reading passages from The Fountainhead to the blind. This pleases me.

This is what the new temple of Set, Snake God, will look like once the old Mitchieville United Church is demolished. Actually, the church burned down at dawn on Easter, heaven knows why. The Temple of Set will have a Serpent friendly interior and a lavish selection of sculpture, mosaics, and tapestries, all paid for with Albertan taxpayers money.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this, a Mitchieville exclusive.

The Shrieker

Only this very weekend I heard this tale of one childs experience in our schools. I heard it at a social function: I was having lunch with my girlfriends aunt.

Apparently, auntie has a neighbour whose child does not much like school. The child is in grade six.

Of course, the child does not like school, the system is plagued with systematic racism, the textbooks are biased against abortion, and there is no food for the starving children from the oppressed welfare class, er, so I thought.

Actually, no, related auntie. Everything is fine (er, was). The teacher is experienced and beloved by her students. There is free food for those that wish to eat it. The textbooks are friendly and fun and make her child think.

The problem is the shrieker. This child appeared in the middle of the school year. He screams everyday. He throws things. Not that screaming, missile throwing children are unknown in public school, it is just that this child does it every day, repeatedly and often. So far, three other children have been attacked by the shrieker. The teacher cannot teach, she has to watch for assault and battery. All of her attention is upon the shrieker, his flying fists and his slashing teeth. Her other students have grown to hate the shrieker. They do not want to go to school anymore. I suspect the teacher does not either.

Parents have called the principal. Parents have gone in to see the principal. Why is this shrieker in this class with our children? Do we not have specialty programs for children with behavior difficulties? The principal was understanding, he spoke soft words in soft voice. His hands were tied. The single momma of the shrieker had refused to send her troubled child to a program that specializes in troubled children. The principal shrugged. Let us all be Bonobo's about this. The shrieker will grow out of his baboon phase.

Now, I know better. I used to manage and train telemarketers, and lying was my bread and butter. The principal, in this case, is lying through his teeth. With a stroke of his pen he can dispatch the shrieker to a program. That is what principals do. That is their job. So, I looked at the situation like a telemarketing manager...

The class of the shrieker is getting a teaching assistant to help the teacher with the shrieker. Until the formal process of hiring is completed, the principal's daughter (a bright girl, in second year Arts at the University of Toronto) is filling in on a temporary basis. So, a job has been created, which creates valuable work experience. None of the parents have demonstrated enough spine to protect their children from this horrible experience; the shriekers parents have. Behaviourally, it is good for the shrieker to be among normals. It is bad for the normals, but they have parents who trust the principal, and believe him when he flicks his forked tongue. It is valuable work experience for the teaching assistant ... I can see the principal, sitting in his leather chair, listening to the classical program on CBC radio, and he will dictate a glowing reference to his secretary to type up for this teaching assistant. And the normals? They learn diversity and tolerance. The teacher? She learns to fear her boss. She must now find ways to please him or, perhaps, another shrieker will descend upon her class. This is a victory for feminism.

And do not forget the political angle. Yes, the parents have called The Trustee. And, no, her hands are tied. And yes, in some future year, an election year, the shrieker will be plucked from whatever class he is fece-smearing in, and dispatched to a place where shriekers are supposed to go. Parents will breathe a sigh of relief: what a great Trustee! Comrade She-Trotsky has liberated us and our children from the shrieker, let us vote for her! And the momma of the shrieker, she will be proud of her Trustee: what a great Trustee! Comrade She-Trotsky had kept my shrieking child in a regular program with normals for three (whatever) years, let us vote for her!

It is too early to see the results of this social experiment of the principal. The normals are too young to vote. Certainly, it is too soon to see if they develop a hatred of education and abandon careers in engineering and science and instead join the military, the police, or the Hells Angels. The teacher is close to retirement, perhaps she will up her litres consumed of white wine. And the darling teaching assistant? With the glowing reference, the valuable work experience, and the cash flow, well, she is off to a promising start in public education. And how about a vacation in Africa, paid for by dad?

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this at both Mitchieville and DustMyBroom.

Dan Wetzel is Disingenuous

Dan Wetzel, who writes for Yahoo Sports, is usually very reliable and level headed in his coverage on any subject. However, his piece on Friday entitled, Racial Divide, was way off the mark.

Dan seems to think that racial animosity was playing out at the courthouse in Richmond Virginia on Friday, as white animal-rights activists verbally clashed with Michael Vick's overwhelmingly black supporters:

Almost all of the people supporting Vick or holding signs pleading for "due process" and "innocence until proven guilty" were African American.

On the other side was an emotional, angry, passionate anti-Vick group that was overwhelmingly white.

Certainly not every animal rights supporter was screaming for Vick to die. Many were just there to support the cause of caring for animals, ending the barbaric practice of dog fighting and using the massive media presence to benefit good.

But a significant number were focused on Vick. When he emerged from a black SUV and made a slow walk up a ramp and into the courthouse, they pushed toward police barriers and let loose.

"Burn in hell you (expletive) (expletive)," repeatedly screamed one woman.

"Die like those dogs," shouted another.

Not long after Vick got inside the courthouse – and in a scene that was repeated when he left less than two hours later – the two sides clashed in shouted voices and dueling signs.

White people screaming for justice; black people asking if they still remember everything justice entails.

Now, does that sounds like a race war was going to break out like Wetzel is alluding to, or does it sound like animal-rights activists wanting to get their pound of flesh from an animal abuser?

Not once were any racial epitaphs thrown around, not once was there a nasty word involving race bandied about by either side. Why would Wetzel throw out a line like,

"But a significant number were focused on Vick. When he emerged from a black SUV and made a slow walk up a ramp and into the courthouse, they pushed toward police barriers and let loose.

"Burn in hell you (expletive) (expletive)," repeatedly screamed one woman.

I'll tell you why Wetzel used that line: He wants you to believe that white people wanted to kill a black man because of the colour of his skin.

Even Wetzel's title of the article, "Racial Divide" is a lie. There is no racial divide in this case, there is no racial animosity. The only black and white divide that exists is in Wetzel's head.

Wetzel should be ashamed of himself. For a country that talks about *racial healing* and *racial compassion*, to have Wetzel come in and try to start something that doesn't exist is piss poor, and doesn't help one bit. Wetzel's reporting is shameful, he should be embarrassed of his sick lies, and Yahoo should be ashamed for printing them.

Racial Divide? I think not.

The Slave Mentality, Indeed

Activists exist to help victims, and what victim is more victimized than the slave? And what defines the slave more than their slave mentality?

There are three players in the slave mentality: the slave, of course, the free man, and the tyrant. Slaves cannot exist without tyrants; tyrants cannot exist without slaves. The slave mentality, that passive-aggressive standing around, waiting for the next handout, searching for a lazy evasion of work, and pushing the weak away from the shade, cool water, or the food bucket, is so necessary to the healthy functioning of the tyrant's empire.

Slaves are so easy to have soft, caring emotions for. They have faults that are easily overlooked. If they spit in the food, it is because their chains have chafed. When they paint themselves into a corner, well, they act so cute when they cry and snivel for someone, dear master, to save them. After they set themselves on fire, well, it is kinda funny, because they set themselves on fire only last week. Tyrants like slaves. They are cheap, easily oppressed, and you can always find a big slave to push a little slave into the wood chipper.

Freemen are good for nothing except paying taxes. There is always something incorrect about free men living free. The men who forced King John to sign Magna Carta did not help their wives with the dishes. The Orangemen who fought on the Boyne to end the absolute monarchy of the Stuarts never supported gun control legislation, not once, ever. The Yankees who marched to their graves at Gettysburg were, well, motivated by christianity and used male pronouns to represent the general case. You can always dig to find some dirt under a working mans fingernails. Slaves do not like free men, because they expect slaves to act like free men. Tyrants do not like free men. Free men expect tyrants to follow their own rules.

Tyrants build wonderful large monuments that are breathtaking. They are patrons of the arts. Poets sing their praises! Painters paint flattering protraits! And the arts community thrives as whores, flatterers, bum boys, and boot lickers. Tyrants are reliable, both in funding and in the slow, lingering public torture of critical poets and painters of unflattering portraits. Slaves and the slave mentality thrives under tyrants. The honest poet gets his tongue cut out.

Ultimately, the slave works to the same ends as the tyrant. Without tyranny, the slave will not find the best patch of shade to sleep away the day. He cannot bully those smaller than himself. He cannot steal soup from the soup bucket, nor can he spit in it, either. The simple pleasures of the slave mentality are thwarted by freedom. Slaves hunger for the tyrant, indeed, their backs ache for the whip, their mouths are dry without a gag, and their necks chilly without a collar. Under freedom, the slave is expected to support himself, do his own laundry, and wipe his own ass. Those with the slave mentality are passive-aggressive activists for the return of the tyrant.

Free men are too busy enjoying the fruits of freedom, the bounty of the good earth, and the pleasures of fatherhood, friendship, and faithful sexual relations, to even think about spitting in the food or leaving the baby in the oven. They are responsible, responsible with firearms, with debts, and with relationships. Free men use guns to shoot rabid animals in the guts and tyrants in the heart.

Tyrants are happiest building vast armies and marching them into a hedge of spears, accompanied by trendy slogans and brightly colored placards. Ammunition is optional, besides, it causes Global Warming. The tyrant sips his single malt under a perfumed awning, watching the clouds of vultures feast on the dead of this years army, while reptiles eat the screaming wounded. Tyrants support gun control, always. Weapons are for the big slaves, to beat down the little slaves. There is no obesity: the best food is saved for feasts and orgies. The little slaves eat prune mush, and say 'mmmm, thank you' when they run out of bowls and get it slopped into their left shoe at breakfast. Every tyrant has a Bill of Rights, only he only supports half of it, the Bill part. Free men do not have a right to a gun under tyranny, so they get no Rights. They do get billed. Slaves do not care about gun control. If they have a gun, it is stolen. If they use a gun, it does not matter, because they already live a prison lifestyle. The food in prison is better, anyway. Less greasy, and it is in a bowl.

So now, as activists, we must choose who we support. Tyrants never need our help ... they have invisible white privilege, made visible. That puts us out of a job. Free men never need our help. They bounce back from hurricanes and earthquakes. They help each other, and do not turn to glue while waiting for a handout. But slaves, well, slaves are cute to look at. They scamper and jape, even if they spit in the food. Cute victims generate taxes for activists to spend. Slaves are good for activists, and activists are good for slaves, even if the slaves acquire nothing but the slave mentality. Slaves never stop being slaves, and activists will never lack for a pay cheque, a clean inside job at a desk, and a friday pizza as long as there are slaves. More slaves means more jobs for more activist friends, activist buddies, and activist lovers. You do not have to be Ayn Rand to figure out which side of the bread your butter is on. The left side, where the slaves are, for surely, the free men are on the right.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this at both Mitchieville and DustMyBroom.

Canadian War Atrocities

Every activist should burn with outrage and feel guilt at the sordid and long history of war crimes committed by Canada. Few spending initiatives can really make full reparations for our racist shithole countries extensive list of crimes against humanity. More spending would help.

Canadian war crimes in Normandy, 1944. Nothing is more upsetting to activists than the tales of the unjust war against the peaceful German vegetarian socialists from 1939 to 1945. Germany, a small country of limited resources and people power, embraced a vibrant form of socialism in 1933, motivated by a popular desire for pensions and universal health care. Diversity and multi-culturalism were celebrated. Pacifists and war-resisters were looked after by state organizations (*), and frequently became guests of the Gestapo (*), a caring social agency noted for their hospitality.

The coast of Normandy was undefended, with only a few troops and a few 'popsicle stick' defences to resist unprovoked aggression (*). The elected government of France, based in Vichy, was unable to gather enough United Nations votes to censure aggression. The Germans had formed an inexperienced division of children, unprepared for war, whose happy childhood had been filled with singing songs (*), reading books (*), and camping. The full unjustified fury of the violent Canadians fell upon this collection of boys (*)during the invasion. Just slanting all these facts into a misleading parallel made me cry.

There are over 2,290,000 hits on the Google search of 'Canadian war atrocities', and another 2,260,000 for 'Canadian war crimes', making over 4,550,000 documents. The worst of these four million crimes are the incidents at Normandy ...

German prisoners were found shot dead along the railway line South of Rots, Oberst Luxemburger of Panzer-Artillerie-Regiment 130 was tied to the front of a British tank as a bullet shield, and the Canadian 3rd Division was given orders to "take no prisioners".

I do not think any Canadian can bear the guilt of these crimes. Inadequate social spending during the Harris government in Ontario is directly linked to the events of June, 1944 (*) (*). Lack of a gun registry allowed a generation of young men to turn to youth crime and choose violence, rather than negotiation and caring. War in Europe could have been prevented with a calm acceptance of land claims and reparations payments of the indigenous German tribes, a first nations people.

As activists, it is our job to bring certain facts, arranged into a emotive collage, to make taxpayers feel guilty. With increases to spending, we can harvest the pay increases, perks, and office space we need to create the facts that justify more taxes, more often. Photogenic victims, their emotional appeal enhanced with photoshop, scripted speech, and suitable backgrounds, act to assist our cause. Our ends justify the means. And the horrors of Canadian War Atrocities is but one of many levers to open the purses of the taxpayers. These fables and myths keep the cash flow flowing. Do your part to undermine western civilization, today! When taxpayers complain about incompetence, bungling, dullardism, and daft accounting, remind them of why they fork over 55 percent of their income ... to alleviate guilt. Incompetence, bungling, dullardism, and daft accounting are acceptable to the activists who administer taxspending, so they should be acceptable to taxpayers, too. Anyone who disagrees is a racist.

I, Fenris Badwulf, drenched in tears, wrote this at both Mitchieville and DustMyBroom.

Alchemy for Investors, part 5

Contemplation of the Tarot trump The Empress will yield insights into the workings of the imagination. There is a wealth of symbolism on the card. Let me direct your attention to the fact that the trump is associated with the planet Venus. This is an astrological correspondence, and, as you may have already discovered, The Magician corresponds to Mercury, and The High Priestess to the Moon.

Upon the breast of the Empress is a curious design. It resembles an inverted letter T. Indeed, this symbol appears frequently in Tarot, both upright, inverted, and combined to form a cross. A regular T represents the power of Saturn to place limitations. The inverted T represents the power to cast aside limitations. The subsidiary symbolism, the use of color, is also worthy of your study.

The three planets, Mercury, the Moon, and Venus, are in balance (using The Emperor as fulcrum) with three other trumps, these being representative of the astrological signs Taurus (the Hierophant), Gemini (the Lovers), and Cancer (the Chariot). As you progress in your investigation of Tarot, you will begin to study cards in combinations of two, three, or whatever. Be aware that every single card has a balancing correspondent. All cards balance through Justice. Those in the top row (which we have been investigating) balance through The Emperor. You can balance any two cards using The Fool. There are seven fulcrums. Some are unchanging, (The Fool, Justice), some move around depending on your position on the Trestleboard (this being the three by seven arrangement). In some cases, you will not much like the results, much as a chemist studying sulphur must prepare for stink. Be alert, or stay away from the stove.

As the tarot is but a model, you can discover in your environment objects, actions, and activities that will evoke the same effects as contemplation of a Trump. Recall the sorting exercise that evokes the Emperor. The color red also evokes The Emperor, much as the metal silver evokes The High Priestess, and copper or green evoke The Empress. Knowledge of these associations will allow you to do your alchemy while surrounded by discord, noise, or people who drink too much coffee. This is the essence of ritual magic. Rituals are highly effective, however, they are not necessary. Moving a paperclip across your desk can be as effective as plunging a dagger into an enemies heart. Thoughts are things, and alchemy will teach you to mock physics with action at a distance.

Keep notes in your journal.

I, Sargon the Magnificent, wrote this.

Friday Night Man Flesh

It's Friday night and that means it's time for some man flesh. I'd like to thank the faithful members of *BITCH* for their money and continued advocacy efforts for the visual rights of heteronormative females. There are plenty of magazines and internet sites geared toward heteronormative and homosexual males, but much fewer in number are those designed for the pleasure of us females that want to enjoy some real heteronormative man flesh. Your time and money is essential to correct this imbalance.

Currently, our group conducts our meetings at the Mitchieville Public Library. Though this space is free, much like Canadian health care, many members of *BITCH* feel it is time we branch out into some space of our own. Money will be needed for this. If I had been a friend of some top Ontario Liberal ministers such as Martyr Colle and his friends, I might have been able to secure some of the multicultural grant money to fight our oppressors. For example, The Ontario Cricket Association received $1 million, though they apparently only asked for the modest sum of $150,000. This particular grant entitlement program has since been investigated and canceled due to the number of racists afoot, but government numbers remain strong and taxation high, meaning other departments are still at liberty to purchase votes with other people's money. In the meantime, keep sending in your dues.

The beautiful is always more stunning alongside the ugly, so I start off the set with some hag flesh. Via Drudge Report, the fourth annual edition of the most beautiful people on Capital Hill has been released. In the top ten, Nancy Pelosi. Clearly, one or more of the judges was smoking pot.

Thankfully, the devil comes in many disguises. Enter The Blessed Aide:

And here is my gardener taking a break from his weeding duties. He has other obligations, meaning he is no commie when it comes to work.

I've lost my shoe and the midnight hour is soon upon us, so I leave you with 100 Sexy men in 1 minute via the suspect vehicle we call People.

Toronto, The Bonobo Way

Activists know that African-Caribbean-Canadian culture can be easily fixed with just a few dollars more. It only takes a fistful of taxpayers dollars to set things right with the taxspenders. My latest band-aid solution comes from the pages of The New Yorker (*).

Yes, the gentle Bonobo, that bisexual primate is to be touted as a new social engineering model. We cannot experiment on taxpayers ... they might rebel and stop paying for social experiments. So, better to experiment upon than the Oppressed-Canadians of Toronto. It would create jobs for activists, and prepare these Most-Valuable-Canadians for employment. The economy will boom and the sun will shine. Casey will not strike out ... there will be joy in Mudville.

Currently, the Jane-Finch G-boi embrace many of the aspects of the Chimpanzee-Culture. And this was fine, until researchers discovered that the perfect chimpanzee is not perfect.

In 1974 ... Goodall witnessed the start of what she came to call the Four-Year War in Gombe. A chimpanzee population split into two, and, over time, one group wiped out the other, in gory episodes of territorial attack and cannibalism. Chimp aggression was already recognized by science, but chimp warfare was not. “I struggled to come to terms with this new knowledge,” Goodall later wrote. She would wake in the night, haunted by the memory of witnessing a female chimpanzee gorging on the flesh of an infant, “her mouth smeared with blood like some grotesque vampire from the legends of childhood.”

Poor Jane Goodall. She must have felt like the Global Cooling scientists of the 1980's when they realized that the doom facing earth was Global Warming. So, now our activists have to change gears. Now our social engineering model is the Bonobo, not the Chimpanzee.

So, how do we re-engineer the Jane-Finch G-boi out of their Chimpanzee-Culture, and replace it with the more politically correct Bonobo-Culture? The Oppressed-African-Caribbean-Canadians have some advantages, like a matriarchial culture that boasts an eighty percent illegitimacy rate, a near complete dependency on welfare (just like the Bonobos picking fruit from the trees), and they are cute to look at. Of course, the key difference between the G-boi and the Bonobo is violence ... and public masturbation, and bisexuality. The solution is simple: instead of sending the G-boi to prisons or concentration camps, is to send them to Bonobo acculturation centers. A large number of the under-employed bisexual sex workers in Toronto can be given activist jobs teaching our G-boi the Bonobo arts of love and understanding. When the G-boi can demonstrate in thought and word and deed that they are Bonobo-Canadians, then they can come back to Jane-Finch, or better yet, settle them in the rich, affluent areas of Toronto where the rich, affluent Bolsheviks live. Bolsheviks accept and understand G-boi: they deserve each other.

A study needs to be done. This requires taxpayers money. You feel guilty about slavery in Canada; you will feel less guilty when you send me your money. It is your responsibility to save the Gangbangers from responsibilty.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this at both Mitchieville and DustMyBroom.

Tommy Lee, Allowed To Date Rod Stewart's Daughter

Rod Stewart has given his blessing to let Tommy Lee date his daughter. The 44 year old Motley Crue drummer has been seen around the town with Rod's 27 year old daughter Kimberly. Tommy showed up at the Stewart mansion with a helicopter to take Kimberly out on a date.

According to Britain's Daily Mirror newspaper, the 62-year-old singer said: "I've tried some manoeuvres in my time to pursue a woman, but I've got to admit this is a pretty strong move.

"Attempting to land a helicopter in my garden just to impress my daughter is quite something!"

So, for all you somewhat sketchy characters out there trying to impress your girl's dad, you don't have to do something that takes a lot of time and effort, such as helping the needy or volunteering your skills for a good cause, you just have to spend a lot of money and dad will give you giant bear hugs of welcoming.
Your shady past of womanizing, drugs and alcohol...forgotten, nothing but single malt scotch and fancy-pants caviar for you.
Your very public sex tape and your on-again, off-again relationship with your sexy ex wife...history, platters of steak and lobster will be served when you come calling.

Now remember, it is not your moral character that father's look for, it is how much money can you spend on a one-time impressive gesture that clearly shows dad how much you want to get into his daughter's pants care for his daughter.

Why Kim actually wants to date him? Well, look at the picture, what's not to like? Tattoo covered skinny old men, Friday Night Man Flesh has nothing on him.

Photo courtesy of Flynet

Wake Up Rod,I Think I've Got Something To Say To You..

Reported By Nikita

Alchemy for Investors, part 4

The first seven trumps of the tarot illustrate the process whereby the subjects of our concentration become manifest. Having accepted that premise through experimentation and observation of results, we can now proceed to the Trump The High Priestess, which will show us how the memory part of the sub-conscious functions.


Now, I must give you some advice before we proceed. Not all tarot decks are of equal value. Ultimately, all of our knowledge of tarot derives from the Scottish mystic MacGregor Mathers (*) and his masonic Golden Dawn. The best tarot to use is the BOTA deck, which is closely based upon his design. Symbolism is very important. If you contemplate the veil behind the seated figure of the high priestess, you can see the seven arrangements that illustrate the seven methods of memorization. These are intensity, duration, contrast, and similarity, to name four of the seven.

Poorly executed decks are the plaything of diletants and poseurs. Use them if you will, but be sharp for the problems they cause. This would be a good exercise for your inner hierophant.

When you concentrate upon an object, your memory associates it with other objects in memory ... up to seven. These seven associations act as seeds, which are planted in the imagination (The Empress) to bear fruit. Note that the flowing river that runs through many of the trumps has its origin in The High Priestess. The fruit is then either harvested or plowed under at the direction of the Emperor.

You may easily access the associative powers of the High Priestess. Take a piece of paper, then select an object. Concentrate upon it. Under the four headings of intensity, duration, similarity, and contrast, make note of what your subconscious tells you are the associated objects. You can do this anywhere, in silence. Mastery of the powers of the mind begin with understanding of their existance and their properties. Take note of your observations in your journal.

I, Sargon the Magnificent, wrote this.

MindTrap Carnival Politically Correct Trivia Friday Of The

The Carnival of the Politically Correct is really shaping up to be something special, I'm stoked. I have to upgrade the Carnival to craptastic now, it's leaps and bounds from where it was just a few short days ago.

Why is it so much better now than just a few short days ago? Because of people like Bruce and Jay Jardine, the Bumfs, Linds, Darcey, Danegerous Logic, Donnah, The Leather Penguin, Steve, Mac, Mark and so many more people deciding that they want to be a part of history, they want to be politically correct and do the right thing. For that, I salute you.

Remember, the deadline for submissions is this Monday coming, 12am. Send your work to mitchieville @ yahoo.com

Hey, TLDG wants me to explain how to submit something for the Carnival, she said I haven't been clear enough. Here's what to do: Take any politically correct piece you want from your site. It can be old or new, it doesn't matter. Take the link and send it to me. Next Wednesday, I'll take a snippit of the post and grace the pages of Mitchieville with it. From there, I'll supply your link to the blogging world where as people will see said link and travel to your site (virtually) and read the rest of your article, while making comments like, "Yes, I am in tune with the way you are thinking. Good job, Richard Evans".

That's it, all you have to do is send me one politically correct link of yours, and fame and fortune is just around the corner.

Last week Rob Huck and Daniel Mahaffey both answered 3/4 questions correct, meaning that they will both have to share the *Podium of glory* this week. Which isn't as bad as it sounds, the podium is huge and made with fine leathers and deep, rich woods. Congrats Rob and Daniel, you are the Mensahead Trivia smarty panted winners of the week.

The only question from last week that was missed was the first question---the answer is coffin.

Here are this weeks questions:

1) Against his better judgment Captain Frank attended Art Bragg's annual Christmas party. Captain Frank sat in a corner trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, when Art trapped him in one of his many tall tales. "Why yes," began Art, "even my days as a younger man were filled with adventures. That beautiful white rabbit skin and that 14 point moosehead on the wall are both from animals that I shot when I was just a lad of 12. I got them both up in Canada during my July 4th holidays. Two summers later I shot this beautiful bear you're sittin' your feet on." Captain Frank realizing that Art was just getting started, got up and said, "Art, excuse me, but I can't take your bull any longer." Why did Captain Frank say this?

2) Charles Pompuss was racing around in his new sports car when he noticed that his throat was parched. He came to a screeching halt in front of the 'Soul-Ace Hotel' and the nine police cars which had been chasing him, slammed into the back of his car and each other's. How many bumpers will have been hit?

3) Texas Tom is looking for a cottage set on a beautiful waterfront property. The realtor suggests a new development on the Moscow Sea. He says that the only problem with the property is that it's a little tough to get to right now. But the transportation in the future will make that much easier. What should Tom know

Three very hard questions this week, it's going to take someone with a working brain the size of a watermelon to get them all right. Do you have an abnormally huge brain? Would you like to play a game that has been described as "Marvy", "Stimulating", "The Mayor is hot". Wow, how did that slip in there?

We make policy because we care

When it comes to news programming, satire is more real than the real thing…

Would it be mean to tell Africa about the world economy?

"The main thing is, we don't want to rob them of their culture… we don't want to introduce plumbing, and electricity, and housing, and doorknobs, because that's going to take away from what it means to be inherently African."

Via Billy Beck, and cross-posted to The London Fog too, because we really do care more than those other blogs. Write your Mayor today!

Saw IV

The Saw IV poster was officially released yesterday, and so was the movie opening date, October 26.

Alot of horror movie goers don't like the poster, they seem to think it's lame. Oh well, eff them, I think it's pretty cool. It does the trick nicely.

Any thoughts?

The Mayor Gets Comments

13 months or so ago, I wrote an award-winning post entitled, "Is Victoria Beckham Too Thin?" (to which the answer was a resounding no). I received a comment today which I am going to post in its entirety. The poster of note is very upset with me, as you will see. She goes by the very urban name of Shayera, and she seems to be the conscience of the USA. Here goes:

Oh my lord you are hilarious! And not in a good way. You're ridiculous. It's people like you that ruin america and poor girls self image. I am neither fat nor stupid. You prove your idiocy by calling your member a bone. UM! NOT A BONE JACKASS!!!! Why do you think it falls off when you die?! Idiot. Most NORMALY men like a woman with curves. Not her collar bone protruding through her neck. She's freakin skinnier than Sporty Spice, the skinniest of the 5! Anything I say will just go straight through your empty head i know it. You're disgusting. It's laughable. There's no talking to complete airheads like you... but i just had to say my peace. Now then, why don't you have a bunch of drinks and then drive home eh? Do us all a favour and drive off a cliff.

On behalf of all the citizens of Mitchieville, and myself, I would first like to apologize to every person in the United States of America. I didn't know that I was having such a negative effect on your wonderful country. I'd also like to apologize to Shayera, I didn't mean to rattle your cage so much, that was bad and careless of me, I ask your forgiveness.

Shayera, when I read your comment, the first thing that popped into my mind was how good the American educational system must be. You are obviously a very well read young lady, I'd go as far as guessing you are an honour student. When I see wordsmiths like yourself making a point like you did, I whisper to myself that America is going to be okay.

Shayera, I know this may sound a tad bit forward, but I'm also guessing that you are as beautiful as you are smart. I'd also guess that your mom hardly took any acid at all when she was pregnant with you, your brother LaShawn, your other brother LaDelle, and your sister LaFonda. I hope one day you get reunited with your father, if he said he's just going to get some smokes and he'll be back in a minute, then keep the candle in the window burning.

Shayera, you mentioned that you "Are neither fat nor stupid". Well, I've figured out that you are certainly not stupid, now let's work on your *non-fatness*. When I mentioned that Victoria Beckham had a perfect body, I didn't mean to insult you. You said that most *Normaly* men like a woman with curves. That's true, men do like curves. Unfortunately, you seem to have mistaken what men like (curves) to what you have (circles).

Shayera, I'm completely serious when I say I have plenty of female friends who have different types of bodies. I have friends who are skinny like Posh. I have friends that are medium size like Hillary Duff. I also have very fat friends who are about your size. My point is, they are all the same under the skin. Even in your case with all that flappy skin.

I'm glad you were able to say your *peace*, Shayera. You have made your point crystal clear. From here on in, I am a changed man. I will no longer look admirably towards skinny women any more, from now on you can consider me a chubby chaser. Better get waddling, Sheyera, I might catch you.

Cleveland Councilman Shoots From The Hip

After hearing that an alleged drug dealer got arrested in his ward once again, Councilman Michael Polensek of Cleveland’s 11th Ward sent a letter to the dealer calling him a "loser" and a "crack-dealing piece of trash", among other various gems. Click on the letter to enlarge.


After reading the letter, the dealers baby momma was enraged, saying the letter was a threat, calling the Councilman a racist (naturally), and saying the letter was completely offensive.

After I read what the good Councilman had to say, the hair on my arms stood straight up. I wanted to call him and congratulate him on a job well done. Let's face it, anyone that hangs around schools selling dope is a maggot and deserves to be treated as such. Anyone selling crack should be shot in the face, crack is a community killer. Anyone who relies on selling dope for a living instead of working a regular Joe job should be run out of town on a rail. The Councilman said what most people think.

Councilman Polensek talks the talk and walks the walk. The citizens of Cleveland’s 11th Ward should be proud of their Councilman, he's a true man of the people.

Restoring my faith in politician's

Matt Damon's Pee Pee Fears For Getting a Gold Star

Matt Damon was honoured on Wednesday with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Matt, who once lived in a small apartment 5 blocks away, was a little unbelieving of his good fortune.

"A few times in my life I've had these experiences that are just kind of too big to process and this looks like it's going to be one of those times," Damon said during a Hollywood Walk of Fame ceremony attended by his wife, mother and a throng of screaming fans.

Matt went on to say that he is afraid his euphoria will be wrecked when he sees someone urinating on his star. Maybe it is just me, but for Matt Damon to say that knowing it will be heard by thousands of people, isn't it just asking for people to try to pee on his star? It will become the new challenge for fans in Hollywood to get a picture of them peeing on Matt's star.

Yes, they might as well go ahead and post a public toilet sign right by his star.

A "Pee"ce of Star

Reported By Nikita

Scarborough ... where's the grief?

Only today I journeyed into deepest, darkest Scarborough. I took the Rapid Transit line to that hotbed of Oppressed-Canadian living, Scarborough Town Center.

Like most activists, I prepared myself through scientific research. I turned to the works of the philosopher Conan (*), and read his accounts of his journeys into the land of Kush. I was expecting to see burning cars, wrecked buildings of an abandoned civilization, rotting heads stuck upon spears, and other signs of a flourishing Barbarian-Canadian culture. Conan had seen as much in his travels, outlined in his work 'Queen of the Black Coast', and 'The Vale of Lost Women'. Travellers from the evil heteronormative United States tell tales of such things in Detroit, Chicago, and New Orleans.

But all I found was sleepy people, commuting to work. All they wanted was a seat, and working air conditioning. They waited patiently in the humidity for the subway, the bus, or the light rail transit. They acted just like Worker-Taxpayer-Canadians. There were no gangbangers. I could hear no hip-hop. No bullet holes scarred the concrete. No one spit on the floor. There was nobody pissing on the tracks. So where were all these Oppressed-Canadians that the Main Stream Media talks about? Where is the grief?

Without the unemployed, the dependent, and the criminal, there is no Oppressed-Canadian culture. And without that culture, there are neither activists, nor jobs for activists. What I saw were weary proto-Vimy-Ridge-Canadians, who get up, go to work, come home, go to work, and get up again, like the rest of the Vimy-Ridge-Canadian rat race. They pay taxes. But where were the taxspenders? How could this system survive without beggars, whores, and crackheads?

As I sat on the rapid transit, my errand done, my task complete, I contemplated the new Scarborough. I could only see one woman with her cleavage exposed. Where were the 'ho's and bitches of the gangsta? This one was dressed the most risque of the bland commuting bunch. She stood in front of me where I sat. A bead of sweat worked its way down over her cleavage between stations. My nose was but six inches away and I could smell her scent from her shower. I struggled to suppress my un-correct heteronormative urges: I bit my tongue and tried to think of Rock Hudson. But I failed, as I only got to the Rock part.

Later, I stood and watched over the city of Scarborough. Here had been the land of peaches and milk of the Irish farmers. Gone now, replaced with a place that looked rather like a suburb of Los Angeles. But, this was no Compton.

Somehow, something had made the gangbanger'n'ho culture disappear. I looked at the crowds of people, rushing to work. What ever could it be?

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this at Mitchieville and DustMyBroom.

The Detroit Riots--Everything New is Old Again

I'm a few days late in celebrating the 40th anniversary of the Detroit riots, but a belated congratulations is certainly in order to the Black Panthers, who made Detoilet what it is today.

From Debbie Schlussel--

Black Panthers and their radical allies, supported by a thousands of Black Detroiters, rioted for days, starting fires and destroying the city. They wanted more power in the city. They wanted a Black Mayor, a Black police chief, a Black city council.

Today, they have all those things. And they have nothing. They won the riots, they lost the war. And 43 people died--no, were murdered--in vain (along with countless others since).

Go have a boo at Debbie's article, then come back and tell me what a gift liberalism is to the world.

Go on, I dare ya.

Kicking Ass (and eat crow) in Canadian Politics

I suspect that a lot of Warren Kinsella haters out there are reveling with glee after he stepped in it earlier this week after he posted an edited picture that some politicians (and his own wife) deemed sexist. I imagine a lot of those people would be faithful Mitchieville readers (if you are saying to yourself “who the hell is Warren Kinsella?” then read here ).

As for myself, while I don’t always agree with him, I happen to be a fan of Kinsella as I think he adds a lot of colour to the terribly drab world of Canadian Politics. His blog ( here ) is a daily must read of mine and is required reading for anyone seriously interested in Canadian politics. As a bonus, Kinsella has a cottage in Bancroft – a lovely little town located in the northern reaches of Mitchieville Township.

I’ll spare you all any analysis of Warren’s little faux pas as it is being beat around the Canadian blogsphere quite a bit. I will say this though: While many of his detractors are enjoying seeing him on the receiving end of his own beating stick for once, they are missing the big lesson in all of this and that would be Warren’s lesson on damage control.

In less than 24 hours he removed the offending picture from his blog, he apologized (albeit weakly), and most importantly - he managed to frame the story around him being a bonehead thus deflecting embarrassment from the Liberal Party of Ontario of which he is an active volunteer (and which is in full pre-election mode). He is keeping a low profile and will stay low until the storm passes. Kinsella even managed an attempt at garnering sympathy in his apology by mentioning the beating he’ll get from his many (many) detractors. You’ve got to admire the audacity.

I’m willing to bet that “The Dark Prince” of Canadian politics is glad that this has happened in July. This should all be quickly forgotten and will be a distant memory by time September rolls around and the provincial election campaign hits full swing. As I said up top, his detractors are going to make hay out of this for a while. For those able wade through the crap and take an objective look, Warren Kinsella is giving an excellent lesson in damage control.

Old Man, Old Cock, Old School

Some posts just write themselves:

(CINCINNATI) -- A 90-year-old man has been arrested for public indecency at a local park.

Leonard G. Dickman, of West Harrison, Ind. was arrested Tuesday afternoon at Mount Airy Forest.

According to the arrest report, Dickman was arrested while sitting in his red Kia Rio and exposed his private parts by raising the leg of his shorts.

Dickman is also accused of touching an undercover officer.

A 90 year old cock, wow. If you cut that sucker in two, I'll bet it has more rings than a Sequoia. Rimshot. Thank you, I'll be here all week.


If your name is Dickman, chances are you're a perv

The Top 10 Most Revolting Women On The Planet--#2 The View

I know that you were probably expecting a singular individual to fill the #2 spot on the Top 10 Most Revolting Women on The Planet, but having all the cast members of The View fill the spot just seems right.

If you haven't watched The View before, good for you, that means that you're probably not suicidal. If you are fortunate enough never to have been subjected to it, let me tell you what the show is about.

The View generally consists of a panel of either three or four womyn who have no charisma, wit or common sense. Currently, the three hosts consist of Joy Behar, who is about as attractive as black lung, Barbara Walters, who, considering that she is partially retarded and has a speech impediment, is still the smartest one of the lot, and Elisabeth Hasselbeck, the weak Conservative, who, when disagreeing with her cohorts, joggles her head disapprovingly like she's shaking burning cinders from her hair.

So, two or three liberals and one brain dead Conservative banter about the most important issues of the day. The topics range from such gems as, "Why is George Bush so evil?", to, "Why are Conservatives so evil?", "Who was really behind 9/11?" and "How do I properly secure my panty liner?"

All three cacklers talk at once, usually as loud as three old hags on speed can talk, while the studio audience snorts, sniffs and grunts like pigs at a trough. After a few minutes of this nonsense you'll want to dig the eyes out of your head with a soup spoon.

If you happen to be a regular watcher of The View, I bet The Manor that you have uttered these words before: "School is for losers, I'm gonna make me a fortune waitressing at Denny's".

I suppose that the only people worse than the cast members of The View are the dunces and malcontents that watch it. Idiot morning TV watchers with no life, lard assed single baby mommas with dripping chocolate rings around their fat, snarling gobs are what the creators of The View count on. Money in the bank, I suppose.

The View is torture on normal womyn, but is certain death for anyone that has testicles. Watching 5 minutes of The View is akin to being visually neutered.

I originally intended to give the #2 spot to the cast of The View, but the deeper I got into this post, the more I think that anyone that watches this hideously unwatchable show should be tagged with the unhonourable mention as well.

So, here's to the cast of The View and to all the imbecilic, mentally defective, and cretinous swine that watch them: You are all #2 of the Top 10 Most Revolting Womyn on The Planet.

The Mayor's Linkie Love

I was reading an article yesterday that said something to the effect that the newest Harry Potter will make more money at the box office this year than the combined GNP of Africa. Or something like that.

It got me thinking that what's really amazing is the fact that I have seen literally thousands of movies during my lifetime, but I haven't seen a single Harry Potter flick yet. And I don't intend on seeing any either. And the thing is, there really isn't any reason why I haven't seen any Harry Potter movies, it's not like I'm boycotting them. Who knows, maybe it's my hatred for British children, I'm not sure.

I also haven't seen ET. You would think that by now I would have seen ET. I'm not sure why I haven't, maybe it's my hatred for British terrestrials.

The first link of the day might be the best link of the day. Your amazing brain is a site which will keep you busy and intrigued for hours and hours and days and days and possible years and years. It was nice knowing you. Explore your brain, take part in real-life experiments and test yourself with our games, illusions and brain-benders.

I never knew that Kelly Clarkson was so hard core. The proof is in the pudding, as they say.


You would think that a page full of pictures of canyons wouldn't be so sexy, but it is, and you'll love it. Try to watch it with your lover, and make passionate love while looking at canyons. Yes, canyons.

If you're a hockey fan, having a boo at some of the coolest goalie masks is probably something you've already done once or twice. If you're not a hockey fan and haven't seen these masks, you're in for a real treat.

If you're a lover of McDonald's fries, and who the hell isn't, you're going to be upset when you see this next clip. Not upset enough to give up McDonald's, but upset enough to punch the living hell out of people that videotape bad things about McDonald's.

When I first went to 20 questions, I thought it was going to be a ridiculous site and I was probably wasting my time. My hunch was correct, 20 questions is pretty stupid, a complete waste of time, and I'm angry that I lost 3 minutes of my life that I'll never get back.

Earthquakes--Coming to a town near you--Don't worry, they're only coming to America. That's a relief, it's not like we know anyone in America.

If you're anything like me, you probably love playing dress-up with dolls. Oh what fun it is to dress and undress and stare for hours at a naked plastic doll...pardon? You've never played with dolls? You're kidding, right? Everyone played dress-up with dolls as a teenager, didn't they? You're pulling The Mayor's leg...haha, you really had me going there for a second.

You've probably seen this making the rounds of the internets already, but if you haven't, now is your chance to see 1500 Filipino inmates dancing to Michael Jackson's Thriller. Yup, it doesn't get any gayer than this.

Presidential Homes from around the world will make you say things like, "Wow", and "Whoa", and "Holy", and "Why won't this thing stop bleeding?"

Seriously, you never played with dolls as a child?