Tuesday, June 29, 2004
New Links
The links on my blog have changed.
A few have been removed.
The link to Ultimatebet.com has been removed.
I'm pissed off at them...too many bad beats.
The link to Kilgore' site has also been removed.
I'll put it back up when he starts writing humorous posts again and stops acting like some kinda homo.
A few have been added.
Fuck Radio Ethiopia, Sperm Addict and LSD LSD LSD are blogs I recommend you all read.
I would also like to remind you all, (I'm talking to you Ford), that we have a "no homosexual fantasies" policy at this blog.
End Transmission.
A few have been removed.
The link to Ultimatebet.com has been removed.
I'm pissed off at them...too many bad beats.
The link to Kilgore' site has also been removed.
I'll put it back up when he starts writing humorous posts again and stops acting like some kinda homo.
A few have been added.
Fuck Radio Ethiopia, Sperm Addict and LSD LSD LSD are blogs I recommend you all read.
I would also like to remind you all, (I'm talking to you Ford), that we have a "no homosexual fantasies" policy at this blog.
End Transmission.
Monday, June 28, 2004
I Gots Me Some Bad News For Skippy
I went to go and see Fairenheit 9/11 yesterday.
Now I'd like to preface this by saying that I no huge Michael Moore fan.
I've seen most of his movies.
Sometimes he's entertaining, other times I find his antics well, downright stupid.
Taking those kids to Kmarts head office in Bowling For Columbine didn't make much sense to me.
It was in bad taste.
I felt like, (whether he intended it or not), he was exploiting those kids.
I have nothing personal against Mr. Moore.
I have nothing for him either.
I don't know the guy.
As well, I've always felt that Moore's movies have had problems with cohesion.
It's as if he wasn't even sure what the point he was trying to make was.
Moore made some comments that I felt were half-truths or misleading in Bowling For Columbine about Canada.
I wasn't real impressed by that.
I'm no fan of Iraq or Saddam Hussein either.
What the hell do I care about a bunch of Jew hating rag heads?
I remember being elated when Israel blew up his nuclear reactor.
But my wife really likes Moore.
And I was pretty curious as to what all the hoopla surrounding his movie was about.
I was expecting the typical Moore routine.
I was surprised.
I was surprised by how good the movie actually was.
It is by far the best movie that Moore's ever made.
And if you forget about Moore's personality and look at the movie apart from him, it's just plain and simple a very good movie.
There's no missing Moore's point this time, (unless you're as stupid as Christopher Hichens, but more on him later).
Moore presents his thesis in a clear intelligent manner.
The evidence he presents to support his claims is as good, if not better than the evidence we see every evening on the television news.
Sure Moore has a bias. But he is no more bias than CNN or CBS or NBC or ABC.
Why should he be held to a higher standard?
He doesn't defend Saddam Hussein.
He questions why Americans are dying in Iraq.
And it's a very good question.
Moore doesn't like George Bush because Moore doesn't think that Bush is a good leader.
And Bush isn't a good leader.
I knew this before I saw the movie.
I never thought it was possible for someone to make Bill Clinton look so good as a president, but Bush has done it. He's turned America into an international laughingstock.
I've read several articles and reviews that have ridiculed Moore and his film.
But I haven't read one that have presented arguments and evidence as strong as what Moore presents in his film.
Christopher Hitchens' recent article published at the MSN website is a good example.
When I first read the article I knew some of what Hitchens state was wrong.
Let's take a brief look at some of Mr. Hitchens comments.
"President Bush is accused of taking too many lazy vacations. (What is that about, by the way? Isn't he supposed to be an unceasing planner for future aggressive wars?)"
- Mr. Bush did take too many lazy vacations and Moore never stated that Bush was "an unceasing planner for future aggressive wars". Hitchens is playing fast and loose with what Moore is trying to point out. Bush probably should have been doing his job instead of fishing, golfing and playing cowboy in Texas.
"But the shot of him "relaxing at Camp David" shows him side by side with Tony Blair. I say "shows," even though this photograph is on-screen so briefly that if you sneeze or blink, you won't recognize the other figure. A meeting with the prime minister of the United Kingdom, or at least with this prime minister, is not a goof-off."
- First of all it was on screen long enough for everyone to see the two of them together. Second of all how the hell does Mr. Hitchens know what went on between the two men at that or any other meeting? I remember my own country's Prime Minister being frustrated in trying to get work done when he met with Mr. Bush. Prime Minister Jean Chretien (now retired) went down to visit Mr. Bush early in Mr. Bush's term. He attempted to speak with the President about the American ban on P.E.I. potatoes. The problem was Mr. Bush didn't know what or where P.E.I. was. Pretty pathetic if you ask me.
"The president is also captured in a well-worn TV news clip, on a golf course, making a boilerplate response to a question on terrorism and then asking the reporters to watch his drive. Well, that's what you get if you catch the president on a golf course. If Eisenhower had done this, as he often did, it would have been presented as calm statesmanship."
- This might be true. But there is one important difference between Eisenhower and Bush. Eisenhower was an important military figure that was insturmental in winning WWII. Mr. Bush barely showed up for military service and certainly didn't fight in any war. Mr. Eisenhower had this thing called credibility. Now there's a brand new word for little Georgie to learn on his next vacation.
"More interesting is the moment where Bush is shown frozen on his chair at the infant school in Florida, looking stunned and useless for seven whole minutes after the news of the second plane on 9/11. Many are those who say that he should have leaped from his stool, adopted a Russell Crowe stance, and gone to work. I could even wish that myself. But if he had done any such thing then (as he did with his "Let's roll" and "dead or alive" remarks a month later), half the Michael Moore community would now be calling him a man who went to war on a hectic, crazed impulse."
- Ok at this point we have departed from criticism of the movie. What "half the Michael Moore community" would be saying or doing given a particluar action taken by the president has nothing to do with both Mr. Moore's movie or reality. Mr. Bush did look "stunned and useless". So did his staff. It would have been nice if a nation's leader had taken some action upon hearing his country was under attack. I don't think it's too high an expectation.
"Moore asserts that Iraq under Saddam had never attacked or killed or even threatened (his words) any American."
- It's true Moore does assert this. And Moore may be wrong. But what our good friend Mr. Hichens neglects to point out is that Moore correctly asserts that Iraq has never attacked America. Iraq has never posed a realistic threat to America. So they let some terrorist live in their country. How many other countries do the same thing? Why doesn't America bomb them? Maybe Mr. Moore ever so slightly overstated his view of Iraq.
So what? His fundamental point still holds.
"Never mind whether his son should take that personally. (Though why should he not?) Should you and I not resent any foreign dictatorship that attempts to kill one of our retired chief executives?"
- Ok, so if you resent this so much why don't you join the army Mr. Hitchens? Or send your kids to go kill and die in Iraq. In all the interviews I've seen of American soliders in Iraq no one has given the attempt on Bush Sr. as a reason for being there. I wonder why.
'Thus, in spite of the film's loaded bias against the work of the mind, you can grasp even while watching it that Michael Moore has just said, in so many words, the one thing that no reflective or informed person can possibly believe: that Saddam Hussein was no problem. No problem at all. Now look again at the facts I have cited above. If these things had been allowed to happen under any other administration, you can be sure that Moore and others would now glibly be accusing the president of ignoring, or of having ignored, some fairly unmistakable "warnings."'
- Now this is just the lowest of the low. This is journalism at its absolute worst. The only people in the movie I recall saying that Mr. Hussein was no problem, "no problem at all", were Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice. Moore shows footage of them before Sept. 11/2001 stating without a doubt that Iraq posed absolutely no threat. So I guess according to Mr. Hitchens Powell and Rice are neither "informed" or "reflective". But Mr Hitchens seems to want to blame Moore for their comments. Pathetic.
I could go on and on but really it's pointless. All Hitchens achieves with his article is proving that he is capable of doing exactly what he accuses others of doing. I suspect that Hitchens had a personal agenda when he wrote his article. Or maybe he was just watching another movie and got confused. Or maybe, (and this is most likely), he's just that stupid.
Mr. Moore has done nothing wrong. All he did was make a movie supporting his beliefs about the Bush administration. All these criticisms about his bias are moronic. I'll let you in on a little secret.
We're all bias. If you need a little more information I suggest you read "What Is History" by Edward Hallett Carr.
If you want to walk around sounding like some kinda moron then Mr. Hitchens' article will give you plenty to quote.
If you want to go see an interesting movie go see Fairenheit 9/11.
I also wonder, what kind of a leftist writes for Vanity Fair and the Globe and Mail anyways?
Now I'd like to preface this by saying that I no huge Michael Moore fan.
I've seen most of his movies.
Sometimes he's entertaining, other times I find his antics well, downright stupid.
Taking those kids to Kmarts head office in Bowling For Columbine didn't make much sense to me.
It was in bad taste.
I felt like, (whether he intended it or not), he was exploiting those kids.
I have nothing personal against Mr. Moore.
I have nothing for him either.
I don't know the guy.
As well, I've always felt that Moore's movies have had problems with cohesion.
It's as if he wasn't even sure what the point he was trying to make was.
Moore made some comments that I felt were half-truths or misleading in Bowling For Columbine about Canada.
I wasn't real impressed by that.
I'm no fan of Iraq or Saddam Hussein either.
What the hell do I care about a bunch of Jew hating rag heads?
I remember being elated when Israel blew up his nuclear reactor.
But my wife really likes Moore.
And I was pretty curious as to what all the hoopla surrounding his movie was about.
I was expecting the typical Moore routine.
I was surprised.
I was surprised by how good the movie actually was.
It is by far the best movie that Moore's ever made.
And if you forget about Moore's personality and look at the movie apart from him, it's just plain and simple a very good movie.
There's no missing Moore's point this time, (unless you're as stupid as Christopher Hichens, but more on him later).
Moore presents his thesis in a clear intelligent manner.
The evidence he presents to support his claims is as good, if not better than the evidence we see every evening on the television news.
Sure Moore has a bias. But he is no more bias than CNN or CBS or NBC or ABC.
Why should he be held to a higher standard?
He doesn't defend Saddam Hussein.
He questions why Americans are dying in Iraq.
And it's a very good question.
Moore doesn't like George Bush because Moore doesn't think that Bush is a good leader.
And Bush isn't a good leader.
I knew this before I saw the movie.
I never thought it was possible for someone to make Bill Clinton look so good as a president, but Bush has done it. He's turned America into an international laughingstock.
I've read several articles and reviews that have ridiculed Moore and his film.
But I haven't read one that have presented arguments and evidence as strong as what Moore presents in his film.
Christopher Hitchens' recent article published at the MSN website is a good example.
When I first read the article I knew some of what Hitchens state was wrong.
Let's take a brief look at some of Mr. Hitchens comments.
"President Bush is accused of taking too many lazy vacations. (What is that about, by the way? Isn't he supposed to be an unceasing planner for future aggressive wars?)"
- Mr. Bush did take too many lazy vacations and Moore never stated that Bush was "an unceasing planner for future aggressive wars". Hitchens is playing fast and loose with what Moore is trying to point out. Bush probably should have been doing his job instead of fishing, golfing and playing cowboy in Texas.
"But the shot of him "relaxing at Camp David" shows him side by side with Tony Blair. I say "shows," even though this photograph is on-screen so briefly that if you sneeze or blink, you won't recognize the other figure. A meeting with the prime minister of the United Kingdom, or at least with this prime minister, is not a goof-off."
- First of all it was on screen long enough for everyone to see the two of them together. Second of all how the hell does Mr. Hitchens know what went on between the two men at that or any other meeting? I remember my own country's Prime Minister being frustrated in trying to get work done when he met with Mr. Bush. Prime Minister Jean Chretien (now retired) went down to visit Mr. Bush early in Mr. Bush's term. He attempted to speak with the President about the American ban on P.E.I. potatoes. The problem was Mr. Bush didn't know what or where P.E.I. was. Pretty pathetic if you ask me.
"The president is also captured in a well-worn TV news clip, on a golf course, making a boilerplate response to a question on terrorism and then asking the reporters to watch his drive. Well, that's what you get if you catch the president on a golf course. If Eisenhower had done this, as he often did, it would have been presented as calm statesmanship."
- This might be true. But there is one important difference between Eisenhower and Bush. Eisenhower was an important military figure that was insturmental in winning WWII. Mr. Bush barely showed up for military service and certainly didn't fight in any war. Mr. Eisenhower had this thing called credibility. Now there's a brand new word for little Georgie to learn on his next vacation.
"More interesting is the moment where Bush is shown frozen on his chair at the infant school in Florida, looking stunned and useless for seven whole minutes after the news of the second plane on 9/11. Many are those who say that he should have leaped from his stool, adopted a Russell Crowe stance, and gone to work. I could even wish that myself. But if he had done any such thing then (as he did with his "Let's roll" and "dead or alive" remarks a month later), half the Michael Moore community would now be calling him a man who went to war on a hectic, crazed impulse."
- Ok at this point we have departed from criticism of the movie. What "half the Michael Moore community" would be saying or doing given a particluar action taken by the president has nothing to do with both Mr. Moore's movie or reality. Mr. Bush did look "stunned and useless". So did his staff. It would have been nice if a nation's leader had taken some action upon hearing his country was under attack. I don't think it's too high an expectation.
"Moore asserts that Iraq under Saddam had never attacked or killed or even threatened (his words) any American."
- It's true Moore does assert this. And Moore may be wrong. But what our good friend Mr. Hichens neglects to point out is that Moore correctly asserts that Iraq has never attacked America. Iraq has never posed a realistic threat to America. So they let some terrorist live in their country. How many other countries do the same thing? Why doesn't America bomb them? Maybe Mr. Moore ever so slightly overstated his view of Iraq.
So what? His fundamental point still holds.
"Never mind whether his son should take that personally. (Though why should he not?) Should you and I not resent any foreign dictatorship that attempts to kill one of our retired chief executives?"
- Ok, so if you resent this so much why don't you join the army Mr. Hitchens? Or send your kids to go kill and die in Iraq. In all the interviews I've seen of American soliders in Iraq no one has given the attempt on Bush Sr. as a reason for being there. I wonder why.
'Thus, in spite of the film's loaded bias against the work of the mind, you can grasp even while watching it that Michael Moore has just said, in so many words, the one thing that no reflective or informed person can possibly believe: that Saddam Hussein was no problem. No problem at all. Now look again at the facts I have cited above. If these things had been allowed to happen under any other administration, you can be sure that Moore and others would now glibly be accusing the president of ignoring, or of having ignored, some fairly unmistakable "warnings."'
- Now this is just the lowest of the low. This is journalism at its absolute worst. The only people in the movie I recall saying that Mr. Hussein was no problem, "no problem at all", were Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice. Moore shows footage of them before Sept. 11/2001 stating without a doubt that Iraq posed absolutely no threat. So I guess according to Mr. Hitchens Powell and Rice are neither "informed" or "reflective". But Mr Hitchens seems to want to blame Moore for their comments. Pathetic.
I could go on and on but really it's pointless. All Hitchens achieves with his article is proving that he is capable of doing exactly what he accuses others of doing. I suspect that Hitchens had a personal agenda when he wrote his article. Or maybe he was just watching another movie and got confused. Or maybe, (and this is most likely), he's just that stupid.
Mr. Moore has done nothing wrong. All he did was make a movie supporting his beliefs about the Bush administration. All these criticisms about his bias are moronic. I'll let you in on a little secret.
We're all bias. If you need a little more information I suggest you read "What Is History" by Edward Hallett Carr.
If you want to walk around sounding like some kinda moron then Mr. Hitchens' article will give you plenty to quote.
If you want to go see an interesting movie go see Fairenheit 9/11.
I also wonder, what kind of a leftist writes for Vanity Fair and the Globe and Mail anyways?
Friday, June 25, 2004
Who the fuck do I look like? Henry Miller?
"Are you a happy person?
I'm not being a smartass, I'm just curious."
This was a comment let recently by our dear friend 0phelia.
Now this is, well not an interesting question, a perplexing one.
I don't think I ever really considered the question.
I don't recall ever sitting around trying to figure out whether I am happy or not.
I mean what the fuck does it mean?
I have no clue.
Maybe that makes me the happiest man alive.
Maybe that makes a miserable motherfucker.
Who the hell knows?
What does it mean?
I'm not even sure I know.
The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines "happy" as:
1 : favored by luck or fortune : FORTUNATE
2 : notably fitting, effective, or well adapted : FELICITOUS - a happy choice
3 a : enjoying or characterized by well-being and contentment : JOYOUS
b : expressing or suggestive of happiness : PLEASANT
c : GLAD, PLEASED
d : having or marked by an atmosphere of good fellowship : FRIENDLY
4 a : characterized by a dazed irresponsible state - a punch-happy boxer
b : impulsively or obsessively quick to use or do something - trigger-happy
c : enthusiastic about something to the point of obsession : OBSESSED - education-conscious and statistic-happy
synonym see LUCKY, FIT
I'm not sure that really describes me; "marked by an atmosphere of good fellowship".
Most of the time I'm trying to figure out how to jab my pen into the throat of the fucker yabbering at me without getting arrested.
I'm not particularily "notably fitting, favored by luck or fortune, characterized by well-being or characterized by a dazed irresponsible state".
So maybe I'm not happy.
But I don't feel bad.
It's not like I have a prostate the size of a cantalope.
But how the fuck am I suppose to be happy when 6 million Jews died in the Holocaust anyways?
But I'd like to thank 0phelia for asking anyways.
I'm not being a smartass, I'm just curious."
This was a comment let recently by our dear friend 0phelia.
Now this is, well not an interesting question, a perplexing one.
I don't think I ever really considered the question.
I don't recall ever sitting around trying to figure out whether I am happy or not.
I mean what the fuck does it mean?
I have no clue.
Maybe that makes me the happiest man alive.
Maybe that makes a miserable motherfucker.
Who the hell knows?
What does it mean?
I'm not even sure I know.
The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines "happy" as:
1 : favored by luck or fortune : FORTUNATE
2 : notably fitting, effective, or well adapted : FELICITOUS - a happy choice
3 a : enjoying or characterized by well-being and contentment : JOYOUS
b : expressing or suggestive of happiness : PLEASANT
c : GLAD, PLEASED
d : having or marked by an atmosphere of good fellowship : FRIENDLY
4 a : characterized by a dazed irresponsible state - a punch-happy boxer
b : impulsively or obsessively quick to use or do something - trigger-happy
c : enthusiastic about something to the point of obsession : OBSESSED - education-conscious and statistic-happy
synonym see LUCKY, FIT
I'm not sure that really describes me; "marked by an atmosphere of good fellowship".
Most of the time I'm trying to figure out how to jab my pen into the throat of the fucker yabbering at me without getting arrested.
I'm not particularily "notably fitting, favored by luck or fortune, characterized by well-being or characterized by a dazed irresponsible state".
So maybe I'm not happy.
But I don't feel bad.
It's not like I have a prostate the size of a cantalope.
But how the fuck am I suppose to be happy when 6 million Jews died in the Holocaust anyways?
But I'd like to thank 0phelia for asking anyways.
Thursday, June 24, 2004
New Blog
A new blog has been created that you all should visit several times a day.
It is join effort by Skippy, aka Sandwich Guy, aka FlyBoy, aka Gaynor the Unstoppable, aka the Gerogia Peach.
You may sit there drooling, staring vacantly at the screen, and you mind may wander from the almost constant thoughts you have about raping your children, and you may wonder why we would start a joint blog.
Well, the answer is because of all of you. You're all just too stupid to understand what we each have been trying to communicate to you via our blogs. So the only answer is to start a communal blog in the hopes that if all the ideas are one spot, you might connect the dots like your recent raped children do in those dumbass book children are always fucking around with when your dick is too limp and chafed to fuck them anymore.
The url is Even the worst Jew is better than the best Goy
Anyways, I really hope you all enjoy it.
Hugs and kisses!!
It is join effort by Skippy, aka Sandwich Guy, aka FlyBoy, aka Gaynor the Unstoppable, aka the Gerogia Peach.
You may sit there drooling, staring vacantly at the screen, and you mind may wander from the almost constant thoughts you have about raping your children, and you may wonder why we would start a joint blog.
Well, the answer is because of all of you. You're all just too stupid to understand what we each have been trying to communicate to you via our blogs. So the only answer is to start a communal blog in the hopes that if all the ideas are one spot, you might connect the dots like your recent raped children do in those dumbass book children are always fucking around with when your dick is too limp and chafed to fuck them anymore.
The url is Even the worst Jew is better than the best Goy
Anyways, I really hope you all enjoy it.
Hugs and kisses!!
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
Coming To the New World: Part One
My paternal grandfather came to Canada as a youth.
Canada was a consolation prize for not getting into the USA.
The family came from the Ukraine, via Romania.
Back in the Ukraine my family was rich and large.
The family business was clothing.
My ancestors made uniforms for officers in the Czar's army.
Back then officers had to buy their own uniforms and they were often elaborate and expensive.
My family owned land, buildings, a dairy, animals.
The family was Orthodox then, and my grandfather went to a private school where he learned French, (language of the upper classes in pre-Revolutionary Russia).
Then the revolution came.
At first things weren't so bad for them.
Then the pogroms started.
My grandfather told me of hiding out in cellars for days at a time when he was 10 years old.
Outside the Cossacks were killing every Jew in sight.
On one occasion after 3 days things outside were quite.
His mother decided to go out and see what the situation was.
A family friend volunteered to accompany her.
He felt that he didn't look too Jewish and would be ok.
They left the cellar and walked arm in arm down the road.
A Cossack rode by on his horse and with one swipe of his sword chopped the friends head off.
All my great-grandmother could do was continue walking.
The family had to leave in a hurry.
All assets were sold cheap and they fled and were scattered.
My great-grandfather went ahead into Romania where things were a little better for Jews, and by a little better I mean they weren't slaughtering them.
Then came time for my great-grandmother, my grandfather and his sisters to go.
They were to be taken across a river that acted as a border between Russia and Romania by a farmer.
When they arrived at the prearranged time and place they were told that there wasn't enough room in the boat for all of them.
The women would go first and then my grandfather afterwards.
When the farmer returned he told my grandfather that it was too late.
The border guards would be changing soon, and the new guards hadn't been paid off.
He would have to wait until the next day.
The farmer led my grandfather to his barn and made him lie under a mound of hay until the next evening.
The next evening the farmer retrieved my grandfather and took him across the river.
A woman met him on the other side.
She took to her home.
She opened a hidden door in the floor that revealed a small cubby hole dug into the earth beneath the house.
She told him to get in.
Later the woman's boyfriend arrived.
My grandfather sat just below them while they had sex.
He remained there all night.
The next morning the woman let my grandfather out of the hole in the ground and opened the door to her house pointed her finger and told him that his family was in a town in that direction.
He walked to town and wandered around until his found his parents.
He hadn't eaten in almost two days.
One night my grandfather and his father were caught by soldiers out after curfew.
Jews had a curfew at that time, in that part of Romania.
When one soldier pointed his rifle at my great-grandfather my grandfather jumped in front of his father.
The soldiers began to laugh.
They found the sight of the Jew trying to protect his father amusing.
They let them go.
On the high holidays the military rounded up all the Jews in town.
The marched them all night out to a field, counted them and let them go home.
They only did to ruin the holiday for the Jews.
They thought it was funny.
After two years in Romania my grandfather's family arrived in Canada.
They had lost touch with pretty much everyone outside of their immediate family.
The adjustment to the new world was not easy.
Canadian society wasn't very tolerant of Jews back then.
My grandfather recalled seeing signs reading "No Dogs or Jews" posted in the windows of certain shops.
My great-grandparents had been wealty.
They now had nothing.
But they made the best of it.
They did what they could to have a good life.
They didn't spend their time lamenting their bad fortune.
My great-grandfather found work at a Jewish social club as a cashier.
At a certain point during his employment he was accused of stealing money.
Upon being accused he threw himself out a fifth floor window.
He stayed alive for a week in the hospital.
My great-grandmother didn't leave his side the whole time.
When he died she went home, bathed, and then buried her husband.
At the age of 18 my grandfather was the oldest male and sole bread winner for his family.
A few years passed.
The depression came.
My great-grandmother never really stopped mourning her husbands death.
My grandfather married my grandmother.
A time came when my grandfather hadn't heard from his mother for a few days.
This was unusual.
Along with my grandmother he went to his mother's home.
It was as if they, (one of my grandfathers younger sisters lived there as well), had just been there.
There were half empty tea cups standing on the kitchen table, unwashed dishes in the sink.
But they weren't there.
A few days later my grandfather got word of their wereabouts.
His mother had picked up and left along with her youngest daughter.
She had gone to Philidelphia to the home of some of her dead husbands cousins.
They barely knew her.
She declared that she could no longer care for her daughter and that she must leave her in their care.
The cousins were annoyed to say the least.
Later that day my great-grandmother put her head in the oven and gassed herself to death.
At the age of 21 my grandfather was the oldest person in his family.
He had a wife and two sisters to support.
He was an immigrant.
He had no money.
It was the depression.
He he never stopped moruning his parents until he died in 1995.
Canada was a consolation prize for not getting into the USA.
The family came from the Ukraine, via Romania.
Back in the Ukraine my family was rich and large.
The family business was clothing.
My ancestors made uniforms for officers in the Czar's army.
Back then officers had to buy their own uniforms and they were often elaborate and expensive.
My family owned land, buildings, a dairy, animals.
The family was Orthodox then, and my grandfather went to a private school where he learned French, (language of the upper classes in pre-Revolutionary Russia).
Then the revolution came.
At first things weren't so bad for them.
Then the pogroms started.
My grandfather told me of hiding out in cellars for days at a time when he was 10 years old.
Outside the Cossacks were killing every Jew in sight.
On one occasion after 3 days things outside were quite.
His mother decided to go out and see what the situation was.
A family friend volunteered to accompany her.
He felt that he didn't look too Jewish and would be ok.
They left the cellar and walked arm in arm down the road.
A Cossack rode by on his horse and with one swipe of his sword chopped the friends head off.
All my great-grandmother could do was continue walking.
The family had to leave in a hurry.
All assets were sold cheap and they fled and were scattered.
My great-grandfather went ahead into Romania where things were a little better for Jews, and by a little better I mean they weren't slaughtering them.
Then came time for my great-grandmother, my grandfather and his sisters to go.
They were to be taken across a river that acted as a border between Russia and Romania by a farmer.
When they arrived at the prearranged time and place they were told that there wasn't enough room in the boat for all of them.
The women would go first and then my grandfather afterwards.
When the farmer returned he told my grandfather that it was too late.
The border guards would be changing soon, and the new guards hadn't been paid off.
He would have to wait until the next day.
The farmer led my grandfather to his barn and made him lie under a mound of hay until the next evening.
The next evening the farmer retrieved my grandfather and took him across the river.
A woman met him on the other side.
She took to her home.
She opened a hidden door in the floor that revealed a small cubby hole dug into the earth beneath the house.
She told him to get in.
Later the woman's boyfriend arrived.
My grandfather sat just below them while they had sex.
He remained there all night.
The next morning the woman let my grandfather out of the hole in the ground and opened the door to her house pointed her finger and told him that his family was in a town in that direction.
He walked to town and wandered around until his found his parents.
He hadn't eaten in almost two days.
One night my grandfather and his father were caught by soldiers out after curfew.
Jews had a curfew at that time, in that part of Romania.
When one soldier pointed his rifle at my great-grandfather my grandfather jumped in front of his father.
The soldiers began to laugh.
They found the sight of the Jew trying to protect his father amusing.
They let them go.
On the high holidays the military rounded up all the Jews in town.
The marched them all night out to a field, counted them and let them go home.
They only did to ruin the holiday for the Jews.
They thought it was funny.
After two years in Romania my grandfather's family arrived in Canada.
They had lost touch with pretty much everyone outside of their immediate family.
The adjustment to the new world was not easy.
Canadian society wasn't very tolerant of Jews back then.
My grandfather recalled seeing signs reading "No Dogs or Jews" posted in the windows of certain shops.
My great-grandparents had been wealty.
They now had nothing.
But they made the best of it.
They did what they could to have a good life.
They didn't spend their time lamenting their bad fortune.
My great-grandfather found work at a Jewish social club as a cashier.
At a certain point during his employment he was accused of stealing money.
Upon being accused he threw himself out a fifth floor window.
He stayed alive for a week in the hospital.
My great-grandmother didn't leave his side the whole time.
When he died she went home, bathed, and then buried her husband.
At the age of 18 my grandfather was the oldest male and sole bread winner for his family.
A few years passed.
The depression came.
My great-grandmother never really stopped mourning her husbands death.
My grandfather married my grandmother.
A time came when my grandfather hadn't heard from his mother for a few days.
This was unusual.
Along with my grandmother he went to his mother's home.
It was as if they, (one of my grandfathers younger sisters lived there as well), had just been there.
There were half empty tea cups standing on the kitchen table, unwashed dishes in the sink.
But they weren't there.
A few days later my grandfather got word of their wereabouts.
His mother had picked up and left along with her youngest daughter.
She had gone to Philidelphia to the home of some of her dead husbands cousins.
They barely knew her.
She declared that she could no longer care for her daughter and that she must leave her in their care.
The cousins were annoyed to say the least.
Later that day my great-grandmother put her head in the oven and gassed herself to death.
At the age of 21 my grandfather was the oldest person in his family.
He had a wife and two sisters to support.
He was an immigrant.
He had no money.
It was the depression.
He he never stopped moruning his parents until he died in 1995.
Monday, June 21, 2004
If You Met Me In Person This Is What You'd See
My father wasn't much of a father.
Infact I don't know that he was much of a person.
I remember when I was a kid one always had to be on gaurd when he was at home.
It was as if he was wrathful all the time.
It wasn't that he was, it just felt that way.
It wasn't that he hit my brothers and I much after the age of 6 or 7, but he could have a fit of bad temper at an moment, for any reason.
He had an extremely loud voice when he screamed.
To a 10 year old child it felt like the End of Times.
I think I was terrified of my father well into adulthood.
He was a grim man.
It wasn't that he was malevolent all the time, or he that he hated his children.
I don't think he thought of his children much except as objects.
As trvial extentions of himself, like how one thinks about their wrist-watch.
He carried a tangible atmosphere with him. It's difficult to describe, maybe there's no word for it.
When he entered the room it was if you were with someone who was trying to come to grips with some horrible tragedy that had befallen them.
Every once in a while he could be fun. He could suggest doing something like going to see a film on the spur of the moment and it would be a good time.
But those times were seldom.
My father believed in duty. What he did for others he did out of duty.
When he took us out on Saturdays I had the distinct feeling that he'd rather be somewhere else, but it's a fathers duty to take their children to amusement parks.
He was unfailingly loyal to his idiot parents because duty demanded it.
His advice was always guided by his vision of what one should do, never letting what one wants to get in the way.
Duty demanded that one get a good education. Duty demanded that one choose a safe career path. Duty demanded that one marry Jewish.
Of course my father didn't always follow his own good advice.
If selfishness was a virtue he would have been a saint.
He would spare no expense on himself, but many expenses could be neglected when it came to his children.
I remember when he told me for the first time that he couldn't afford to pay my mother child support anymore.
In the next sentence he talked about not being around next week because he needed some time off, so he was going down to Flordia with his girlfriend.
My father had cheated on my mother when they were married.
He would pretend it wasn't true, but he didn't pretend that hard. Everyone knew it.
My father had many secrets.
He had secret girlfriends, secret money, secret habits, secret investments.
Even secret food. Food that was too expensive to share with his children.
Expensive brands would only be for him. Let us have the cheap no-name version.
My father was successful.
By the time he was 40 he was making over $100,000.00/year. That was back in the early 80's.
What would that be today? $250,000.00?
In the mid-80's he quit his job. He wasn't going to work for other people anymore he said.
He was going to see Herbalife.
It was some kinda "multi-level-marketing" scheme that was going to make him a millionaire.
My father never became a millionaire.
Afer about 5 or 6 years of selling weight-loss products to anyone who could stand to listen to him for more than 5 minutes he was forced to go back to a "regular" job.
But jobs were scarce for a man who had taken years off from his career.
He did find a series of management/sales jobs that I know little about.
In the early 90's he ended up working for a financial company that specialized in real estate investments.
He was charged with starting up a new division for the company and since it wouldn't be profitable for a few years he worked mostly off a draw.
This ment that the company would loan him money against future commissions.
Sometime in late 1992 I went down to the basement to watch televison.
My father was there.
As soon as I sat down he nonchalantly told me that he was going to be arrested next week.
I was astonished.
Despite my father's failings he had always been law abiding.
He was to be arrested by the RCMP no less.
For those of you who are unaware of what the RCMP is all about, it's like the FBI and the Secret Service wrapped into one.
The less dealings you have with them, the better off you probably are.
The arrest was work related.
The company was accused of breaking several laws relating to fraud.
The government had seen fit to arrest about a dozen member of the management.
My father turned himself into the police on the pre-arrainged date and was officially charged with "Conspiricy To Commit Fraud".
The way the law worked at the time, the government had to prove that my father had thought about committing fraud.
Soon my the company my father worked for was forced into bankruptcy.
This led to has draw being due.
He owed well over $100,000.00 which of course he didn't have.
So in early 1993 my father declared personal bankruptcy.
He was 53 years old at the time, unemployed, being tried as a white collar criminal, and bankrupt.
One of my brother's had ceased all contact with my father.
The level of humiliation for my father was emense.
He was a member of the Jewish upper-middle class.
He was a very hansome man, and he always dress like someone out of a Harry Rosen catalog.
His hair was perfect.
He always drove luxury cars.
He believed that he was better than the lower classes.
He sat around the house mostly, dressed in the same track suit each day.
He settled into a banal routine of doing little chores.
If he was an oppressive, depressive influence before it was dramatically magnified now.
I moved out in the first halve of 1994.
When I told him that I was going to rent an apartment downtown with a friend, he said that I would never be able to support myself, that I would fail.
I left 2 weeks later.
A year and a half later I on a 4 month backpacking trek through Europe.
I was standing out front of the main train terminal in Rome phoning home.
My father told me that the government had withdrawn all charges against him.
It took two years, but finally it was over for him.
(I saw the court transcripts myself and the prosecuting attorney declared that he didn't know why my father was arrested in the first place. If that's not an endorsement of innocence then I don't know what is.).
I can only imagine the feeling of liberation that he felt, which I am sure was compounded later when we found out that one of his co-defendants was sentenced to 10 years in prison.
My father was promptly stripped of his mutual fund registration upon being found innocent by the courts.
The Ontario Securities Commission plays by its own rules.
When he tried to find employment in the insurance industry he was denied a life insurance agent's licence by the Financial Services Commission of Ontario based on the judgement of the Ontario Securities Commission.
So my father was found innocent but his reputation was ruined.
The industries and jobs he had held for most of his adult life he was shut out of.
Eventually he found a job selling telephone systems.
Those annoying things that answer the phone at businesses or government offices when you really need to speak to a human being.
But it was a crappy job in a lousy industry.
It didn't last too long.
Not long after leaving the telephone systems job I received a phone call from one of my brothers.
My father was in the hospital.
He had been rushed there after he had awoken one morning to discover that his leg had swollen to 3 times its normal size.
It turned out to be a blood clot.
He spent a week in the hospital.
They were worried that the clot may dislodge and move to his heart.
This ment certain death.
When he was allowed to go home he was put on blood thinners permanently.
My father worked part time with my step-mother, helping her to sell real estate.
It must have been horrible.
My step-mother wasn't a very intelligent person, except when it comes to gold-digging.
When my father's money ran out she made his life hell.
One day my father received a phone call.
It was from a guy he had worked with over 15 years before.
The guy needed a sales manager for the company he was working at.
My father got the job.
Finally, good pay, good benefits, working for an old buddy in an position for which he was well suited.
His change in attitue was extraordinary.
It was as if he was waking from some caliginous waking coma.
3 and a half months later my father was abruptly fired from his job.
The reasons given were 3 fold.
1) He had spoken disrepsectfully to someone.
2) He had pointed his finger at someone.
3) He had been observed dozing off twice in his office.
The medication that he took for his blood clot problem caused the drowsiness. It was uncontrollable.
In January of 1995 I saw my father at my grandmothers birthday party.
He seemed distracted and bitter about his recent dismissal.
He surprised me by paying me back $1800.00 that I had loaned him a few years before and had given up on ever getting back.
In early February 1995 my life was at a low point.
I was living with a woman that I couldn't stand.
I was working full-time at job that I hated.
I was also working two part time jobs and was still broke.
The woman I was living with was my girlfriend but we hadn't slept together in months.
She was deranged.
I had met her and we had moved in together a few months later.
It wasn't until we were living together that I realized that she was not only a compulsive liar but entirely morally corrupt.
I don't mean that in a fun or interesting way.
She was truly a horrid person suffering from severe mental problems.
In October of 1994 I she had gotten pregnant.
When we first met she had told me that a medical condition prevented her from ever getting pregnant.
I believed her, so after awhile we didn't concern ourselves with birth control.
She later decided to abort the fetus.
It was her choice.
I declared several times that I would support and raise the child.
Sitting in the waiting room of the abortion clinic while she underwent the procedure I learned that synchronicity has as sense of humour.
As I flipped through old Time magazines the radio station they piped into the office played Gordon Lightfoot's "That's What You Get For Loving Me".
On the way home she began to blame me for the abortion.
She never stopped.
In January of 1995 she told me she was pregnant again.
I knew it wasn't mine.
We hadn't slept together for over 2 months.
I didn't say or do anything.
I was broke and literally couldn't throw her out and keep my apartment.
I had nowhere to go.
Secretly I began to save as much money as I could.
I skipped meals.
I smoked less.
I afforded myself no luxury.
I was going to throw her ass out as soon as I could.
You may think ill of me for evicting a pregnant woman but the child wasn't mine.
She had cheated on me.
Her family was rich.
She personally had over $70,000.00 in the bank.
Everyday she would antagonize me.
She would try to belittle me.
No insult was too immature for her.
In early February 1995 I work off and left the house for my miserable job cleaning carpets.
Mid-way through my only job of the day my pager went off.
The numbers 911 followed by my home phone number were flashing on the display.
I called home.
She told me she was bleeding.
I told her to call an ambulance, as they would get there faster than I could.
I told her to leave the name of the hospital that they were taking to her on a piece of paper and I would get then when I could.
I rushed through the rest of my job and hurried home.
I found a piece of paper just inside the front door with "Mount Sinai" written on it.
I cleaned the blood up off the floor and drove to the hospital.
She had had a miscarriage.
The doctor wanted to perform a procedure to clean out any remaining parts of the fetus.
I stayed with her for hours at the hospital.
When they wouldn't let me stay with her I sat in a hallway out front of the morgue watching dead people being rolled in on gurneys.
When we got home it was evening.
There were 11 messages on my answering machine.
I didn't get 11 messages in a week never mind an afternoon.
The first message was from my step brother Mark telling met to call my father's house.
The second one was from one of my brothers telling me to go to my fathers house.
I didn't bother to listen to the rest.
I phoned my father's house.
My step-brother Bob answered the phone.
Bob: Hello
Me: Hey Bob, what's up?
Bob: Hey.
Me: So what's going on?
Bob: Well, we're taking my mom to my sister's house...
Me: No Bob. What's up?
Bob: What do you mean?
Me: I just got home and there's a ton of messages on my machine telling me to call there, what's going on?
Bob: Haven't you spoken to anyone?
Me: Just you. You wanna tell me what going on?
Bob: Ahhhh...
Me: Yeah?
Bob: Ahhhhh...
Me: Did something happen?
Bob: Ahhhhh...yeah...ahhhhh
Me: What happened Bob.
Bob: Ahhhhhh...
Me: Did something happen to my father?
Bob: Yeah.
Me: Is he dead?
Bob: Yeah.
My father had slept in that morning.
He then got up, shaved, showered and dressed.
He went to the bank and cleaned out his bank account.
He then collected all of his insurance papers and his will.
He left them along with the $1,400.00 he had taken from the bank on the kitchen table.
He then went outside and gassed himself to death in the garage.
Infact I don't know that he was much of a person.
I remember when I was a kid one always had to be on gaurd when he was at home.
It was as if he was wrathful all the time.
It wasn't that he was, it just felt that way.
It wasn't that he hit my brothers and I much after the age of 6 or 7, but he could have a fit of bad temper at an moment, for any reason.
He had an extremely loud voice when he screamed.
To a 10 year old child it felt like the End of Times.
I think I was terrified of my father well into adulthood.
He was a grim man.
It wasn't that he was malevolent all the time, or he that he hated his children.
I don't think he thought of his children much except as objects.
As trvial extentions of himself, like how one thinks about their wrist-watch.
He carried a tangible atmosphere with him. It's difficult to describe, maybe there's no word for it.
When he entered the room it was if you were with someone who was trying to come to grips with some horrible tragedy that had befallen them.
Every once in a while he could be fun. He could suggest doing something like going to see a film on the spur of the moment and it would be a good time.
But those times were seldom.
My father believed in duty. What he did for others he did out of duty.
When he took us out on Saturdays I had the distinct feeling that he'd rather be somewhere else, but it's a fathers duty to take their children to amusement parks.
He was unfailingly loyal to his idiot parents because duty demanded it.
His advice was always guided by his vision of what one should do, never letting what one wants to get in the way.
Duty demanded that one get a good education. Duty demanded that one choose a safe career path. Duty demanded that one marry Jewish.
Of course my father didn't always follow his own good advice.
If selfishness was a virtue he would have been a saint.
He would spare no expense on himself, but many expenses could be neglected when it came to his children.
I remember when he told me for the first time that he couldn't afford to pay my mother child support anymore.
In the next sentence he talked about not being around next week because he needed some time off, so he was going down to Flordia with his girlfriend.
My father had cheated on my mother when they were married.
He would pretend it wasn't true, but he didn't pretend that hard. Everyone knew it.
My father had many secrets.
He had secret girlfriends, secret money, secret habits, secret investments.
Even secret food. Food that was too expensive to share with his children.
Expensive brands would only be for him. Let us have the cheap no-name version.
My father was successful.
By the time he was 40 he was making over $100,000.00/year. That was back in the early 80's.
What would that be today? $250,000.00?
In the mid-80's he quit his job. He wasn't going to work for other people anymore he said.
He was going to see Herbalife.
It was some kinda "multi-level-marketing" scheme that was going to make him a millionaire.
My father never became a millionaire.
Afer about 5 or 6 years of selling weight-loss products to anyone who could stand to listen to him for more than 5 minutes he was forced to go back to a "regular" job.
But jobs were scarce for a man who had taken years off from his career.
He did find a series of management/sales jobs that I know little about.
In the early 90's he ended up working for a financial company that specialized in real estate investments.
He was charged with starting up a new division for the company and since it wouldn't be profitable for a few years he worked mostly off a draw.
This ment that the company would loan him money against future commissions.
Sometime in late 1992 I went down to the basement to watch televison.
My father was there.
As soon as I sat down he nonchalantly told me that he was going to be arrested next week.
I was astonished.
Despite my father's failings he had always been law abiding.
He was to be arrested by the RCMP no less.
For those of you who are unaware of what the RCMP is all about, it's like the FBI and the Secret Service wrapped into one.
The less dealings you have with them, the better off you probably are.
The arrest was work related.
The company was accused of breaking several laws relating to fraud.
The government had seen fit to arrest about a dozen member of the management.
My father turned himself into the police on the pre-arrainged date and was officially charged with "Conspiricy To Commit Fraud".
The way the law worked at the time, the government had to prove that my father had thought about committing fraud.
Soon my the company my father worked for was forced into bankruptcy.
This led to has draw being due.
He owed well over $100,000.00 which of course he didn't have.
So in early 1993 my father declared personal bankruptcy.
He was 53 years old at the time, unemployed, being tried as a white collar criminal, and bankrupt.
One of my brother's had ceased all contact with my father.
The level of humiliation for my father was emense.
He was a member of the Jewish upper-middle class.
He was a very hansome man, and he always dress like someone out of a Harry Rosen catalog.
His hair was perfect.
He always drove luxury cars.
He believed that he was better than the lower classes.
He sat around the house mostly, dressed in the same track suit each day.
He settled into a banal routine of doing little chores.
If he was an oppressive, depressive influence before it was dramatically magnified now.
I moved out in the first halve of 1994.
When I told him that I was going to rent an apartment downtown with a friend, he said that I would never be able to support myself, that I would fail.
I left 2 weeks later.
A year and a half later I on a 4 month backpacking trek through Europe.
I was standing out front of the main train terminal in Rome phoning home.
My father told me that the government had withdrawn all charges against him.
It took two years, but finally it was over for him.
(I saw the court transcripts myself and the prosecuting attorney declared that he didn't know why my father was arrested in the first place. If that's not an endorsement of innocence then I don't know what is.).
I can only imagine the feeling of liberation that he felt, which I am sure was compounded later when we found out that one of his co-defendants was sentenced to 10 years in prison.
My father was promptly stripped of his mutual fund registration upon being found innocent by the courts.
The Ontario Securities Commission plays by its own rules.
When he tried to find employment in the insurance industry he was denied a life insurance agent's licence by the Financial Services Commission of Ontario based on the judgement of the Ontario Securities Commission.
So my father was found innocent but his reputation was ruined.
The industries and jobs he had held for most of his adult life he was shut out of.
Eventually he found a job selling telephone systems.
Those annoying things that answer the phone at businesses or government offices when you really need to speak to a human being.
But it was a crappy job in a lousy industry.
It didn't last too long.
Not long after leaving the telephone systems job I received a phone call from one of my brothers.
My father was in the hospital.
He had been rushed there after he had awoken one morning to discover that his leg had swollen to 3 times its normal size.
It turned out to be a blood clot.
He spent a week in the hospital.
They were worried that the clot may dislodge and move to his heart.
This ment certain death.
When he was allowed to go home he was put on blood thinners permanently.
My father worked part time with my step-mother, helping her to sell real estate.
It must have been horrible.
My step-mother wasn't a very intelligent person, except when it comes to gold-digging.
When my father's money ran out she made his life hell.
One day my father received a phone call.
It was from a guy he had worked with over 15 years before.
The guy needed a sales manager for the company he was working at.
My father got the job.
Finally, good pay, good benefits, working for an old buddy in an position for which he was well suited.
His change in attitue was extraordinary.
It was as if he was waking from some caliginous waking coma.
3 and a half months later my father was abruptly fired from his job.
The reasons given were 3 fold.
1) He had spoken disrepsectfully to someone.
2) He had pointed his finger at someone.
3) He had been observed dozing off twice in his office.
The medication that he took for his blood clot problem caused the drowsiness. It was uncontrollable.
In January of 1995 I saw my father at my grandmothers birthday party.
He seemed distracted and bitter about his recent dismissal.
He surprised me by paying me back $1800.00 that I had loaned him a few years before and had given up on ever getting back.
In early February 1995 my life was at a low point.
I was living with a woman that I couldn't stand.
I was working full-time at job that I hated.
I was also working two part time jobs and was still broke.
The woman I was living with was my girlfriend but we hadn't slept together in months.
She was deranged.
I had met her and we had moved in together a few months later.
It wasn't until we were living together that I realized that she was not only a compulsive liar but entirely morally corrupt.
I don't mean that in a fun or interesting way.
She was truly a horrid person suffering from severe mental problems.
In October of 1994 I she had gotten pregnant.
When we first met she had told me that a medical condition prevented her from ever getting pregnant.
I believed her, so after awhile we didn't concern ourselves with birth control.
She later decided to abort the fetus.
It was her choice.
I declared several times that I would support and raise the child.
Sitting in the waiting room of the abortion clinic while she underwent the procedure I learned that synchronicity has as sense of humour.
As I flipped through old Time magazines the radio station they piped into the office played Gordon Lightfoot's "That's What You Get For Loving Me".
On the way home she began to blame me for the abortion.
She never stopped.
In January of 1995 she told me she was pregnant again.
I knew it wasn't mine.
We hadn't slept together for over 2 months.
I didn't say or do anything.
I was broke and literally couldn't throw her out and keep my apartment.
I had nowhere to go.
Secretly I began to save as much money as I could.
I skipped meals.
I smoked less.
I afforded myself no luxury.
I was going to throw her ass out as soon as I could.
You may think ill of me for evicting a pregnant woman but the child wasn't mine.
She had cheated on me.
Her family was rich.
She personally had over $70,000.00 in the bank.
Everyday she would antagonize me.
She would try to belittle me.
No insult was too immature for her.
In early February 1995 I work off and left the house for my miserable job cleaning carpets.
Mid-way through my only job of the day my pager went off.
The numbers 911 followed by my home phone number were flashing on the display.
I called home.
She told me she was bleeding.
I told her to call an ambulance, as they would get there faster than I could.
I told her to leave the name of the hospital that they were taking to her on a piece of paper and I would get then when I could.
I rushed through the rest of my job and hurried home.
I found a piece of paper just inside the front door with "Mount Sinai" written on it.
I cleaned the blood up off the floor and drove to the hospital.
She had had a miscarriage.
The doctor wanted to perform a procedure to clean out any remaining parts of the fetus.
I stayed with her for hours at the hospital.
When they wouldn't let me stay with her I sat in a hallway out front of the morgue watching dead people being rolled in on gurneys.
When we got home it was evening.
There were 11 messages on my answering machine.
I didn't get 11 messages in a week never mind an afternoon.
The first message was from my step brother Mark telling met to call my father's house.
The second one was from one of my brothers telling me to go to my fathers house.
I didn't bother to listen to the rest.
I phoned my father's house.
My step-brother Bob answered the phone.
Bob: Hello
Me: Hey Bob, what's up?
Bob: Hey.
Me: So what's going on?
Bob: Well, we're taking my mom to my sister's house...
Me: No Bob. What's up?
Bob: What do you mean?
Me: I just got home and there's a ton of messages on my machine telling me to call there, what's going on?
Bob: Haven't you spoken to anyone?
Me: Just you. You wanna tell me what going on?
Bob: Ahhhh...
Me: Yeah?
Bob: Ahhhhh...
Me: Did something happen?
Bob: Ahhhhh...yeah...ahhhhh
Me: What happened Bob.
Bob: Ahhhhhh...
Me: Did something happen to my father?
Bob: Yeah.
Me: Is he dead?
Bob: Yeah.
My father had slept in that morning.
He then got up, shaved, showered and dressed.
He went to the bank and cleaned out his bank account.
He then collected all of his insurance papers and his will.
He left them along with the $1,400.00 he had taken from the bank on the kitchen table.
He then went outside and gassed himself to death in the garage.
Saturday, June 19, 2004
The Deathmask Of Human Kindness
MrsBloodyDiapers left town for a week this morning to spend some time in the countryside with her parents.
I drove them to pick up their rental car this morning and then returned to my apartment.
As I approached the front door of the building I noticed a blind black man in his early 20's shuffling about in the corner next to the front door. He appeared as if he didn't quite know what he was doing.
I entered and asked if I could be of some assistance to him.
He turned to face me. One of his eyes was open and was covered in a thin white pasty substance. The pupil sat in the upper right corner of the socket, not moving. The other eye was closed and had a thin strip of crusted dry blood along the lid. He had a stream of mucus extending from his nostral to his upper lip.
He asked if I was a tenet in the building and I said that I was.
He told me that he was as well and that he living in apartment 204.
He then asked me if I could escourt him to the corner store.
I said that I would.
He took my arm and I guided him awkwardly down the steps outside the front door.
When we got to the sidewalk, arm in arm, he told me that he hated being blind. He couldn't stand it.
He said that he hadn't always been blind. He had lost his sight six years ago in an accident.
He still couldn't believe that it had happened to him.
I asked him how long he had lived in the building.
He said that he'd been there for 5 months and that he hated it.
He lived with a demon he said.
He said the guy he was staying with sucked the souls out of people and that he changed people's pipes. "You know...the ones in the walls".
It was at this point that I realized that there was just something not right about this guy.
But he's fucking blind so I guess you have to give him a break.
When we got to the store he bought a pack of cigarettes.
He then asked for a lighter.
The woman behind the counter asked him which colour of lighter he'd like.
I looked at her like she was fucking insane.
He stood there for a few moments and then said white.
She had no white, so he took a yellow one.
On the way back to his apartment door he said that he felt lightheaded and he staggered a bit. When we got the door took his keys out and asked me to unlock it for him.
I did and he said "My name is Jonathan. Thank you."
As I walked up the stairs to my own apartment I thought it strange that a blind man in the city needs help, so he asks and gets it from a Jew. Where the hell are all the goddamn Christians? Isn't helping the blind suppose to the their modus operandi?
Fucking sick world it is.
I drove them to pick up their rental car this morning and then returned to my apartment.
As I approached the front door of the building I noticed a blind black man in his early 20's shuffling about in the corner next to the front door. He appeared as if he didn't quite know what he was doing.
I entered and asked if I could be of some assistance to him.
He turned to face me. One of his eyes was open and was covered in a thin white pasty substance. The pupil sat in the upper right corner of the socket, not moving. The other eye was closed and had a thin strip of crusted dry blood along the lid. He had a stream of mucus extending from his nostral to his upper lip.
He asked if I was a tenet in the building and I said that I was.
He told me that he was as well and that he living in apartment 204.
He then asked me if I could escourt him to the corner store.
I said that I would.
He took my arm and I guided him awkwardly down the steps outside the front door.
When we got to the sidewalk, arm in arm, he told me that he hated being blind. He couldn't stand it.
He said that he hadn't always been blind. He had lost his sight six years ago in an accident.
He still couldn't believe that it had happened to him.
I asked him how long he had lived in the building.
He said that he'd been there for 5 months and that he hated it.
He lived with a demon he said.
He said the guy he was staying with sucked the souls out of people and that he changed people's pipes. "You know...the ones in the walls".
It was at this point that I realized that there was just something not right about this guy.
But he's fucking blind so I guess you have to give him a break.
When we got to the store he bought a pack of cigarettes.
He then asked for a lighter.
The woman behind the counter asked him which colour of lighter he'd like.
I looked at her like she was fucking insane.
He stood there for a few moments and then said white.
She had no white, so he took a yellow one.
On the way back to his apartment door he said that he felt lightheaded and he staggered a bit. When we got the door took his keys out and asked me to unlock it for him.
I did and he said "My name is Jonathan. Thank you."
As I walked up the stairs to my own apartment I thought it strange that a blind man in the city needs help, so he asks and gets it from a Jew. Where the hell are all the goddamn Christians? Isn't helping the blind suppose to the their modus operandi?
Fucking sick world it is.
Saturday, June 12, 2004
Sandwich Guy Has Lost His Fucking Mind
Yup, it's true.
He's gone batshit in the head.
And due to this condition he's aquired he's interested in maybe starting a joint blog with me in the hopes that my level headedness will offset his screwball ideas.
So the task is to find a name for the new blog.
Since I have the best fucking blog name possible, we'll have to find the second best name.
Here are what I've come up with so far"
"Shut-up Nigger"
"The Gentlemen Rapists"
"God Hates Fags Inc."
"Shit In Your Mouth, Cum In Your Ass"
"Die Fag Nigger Die"
"We Love Everybody"
If you have any suggestions please pass them along.
He's gone batshit in the head.
And due to this condition he's aquired he's interested in maybe starting a joint blog with me in the hopes that my level headedness will offset his screwball ideas.
So the task is to find a name for the new blog.
Since I have the best fucking blog name possible, we'll have to find the second best name.
Here are what I've come up with so far"
"Shut-up Nigger"
"The Gentlemen Rapists"
"God Hates Fags Inc."
"Shit In Your Mouth, Cum In Your Ass"
"Die Fag Nigger Die"
"We Love Everybody"
If you have any suggestions please pass them along.
Who Gives a Fuck?
What's with all this shit I see on TV everyday about Jennifer Lopez getting married to some dick head.
So a Spic hooker got married, who gives a fuck?
So a Spic hooker got married, who gives a fuck?
Thursday, June 10, 2004
The Left is fucking stoned...not always...
Yup, it's true.
Help save the youth of America
Help save them from themselves
Help save the sun-tanned surfer boys
And the Californian girls
When the lights go out in the rest of the World
What do our cousins say
They're playing in the sun and having fun, fun, fun
Till Daddy takes the gun away
From the Big Church to the Big River
And out to the Shining Sea
This is the Land of Opportunity
And there's a Monkey Trial on TV
A nation with their freezers full
Are dancing in their seats
While outside another nation
Is sleeping in the streets
Don't tell me the old, old story
Tell me the truth this time
Is the Man in the Mask or the Indian
An enemy or a friend of mine
Help save the youth of America
Help save the youth of the world
Help save the boys in uniform
Their mothers and their faithful girls
Listen to the voice of the soldier
Down in the killing zone
Talking about the cost of living
And the price of bringing him home
They're already shipping the body bags
Down by the Rio Grande
But you can fight for democracy at home
And not in some foreign land
And the fate of the great United States
Is entwined in the fate of us all
And the incident at Tschernobyl proves
The world we live in is very small
And the cities of Europe have burned before
And they may yet burn again
And if they do I hope you understand
That Washington will burn with them
Omaha will burn with them
Los Alamos will burn with them
Billy Bragg wrote this back in 1987. I guess someone on the Left did know what the
fuck he was talking about. Must have been on the day he forgot to get high.
Help save the youth of America
Help save them from themselves
Help save the sun-tanned surfer boys
And the Californian girls
When the lights go out in the rest of the World
What do our cousins say
They're playing in the sun and having fun, fun, fun
Till Daddy takes the gun away
From the Big Church to the Big River
And out to the Shining Sea
This is the Land of Opportunity
And there's a Monkey Trial on TV
A nation with their freezers full
Are dancing in their seats
While outside another nation
Is sleeping in the streets
Don't tell me the old, old story
Tell me the truth this time
Is the Man in the Mask or the Indian
An enemy or a friend of mine
Help save the youth of America
Help save the youth of the world
Help save the boys in uniform
Their mothers and their faithful girls
Listen to the voice of the soldier
Down in the killing zone
Talking about the cost of living
And the price of bringing him home
They're already shipping the body bags
Down by the Rio Grande
But you can fight for democracy at home
And not in some foreign land
And the fate of the great United States
Is entwined in the fate of us all
And the incident at Tschernobyl proves
The world we live in is very small
And the cities of Europe have burned before
And they may yet burn again
And if they do I hope you understand
That Washington will burn with them
Omaha will burn with them
Los Alamos will burn with them
Billy Bragg wrote this back in 1987. I guess someone on the Left did know what the
fuck he was talking about. Must have been on the day he forgot to get high.
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Jews Suck
Yup, it's true.
My buddy Kilgore recently posted the following comment at this very blog:
"The general public is made up of complete fucking idiots, Rev.
Except for the Jews, that is, which is why they have all the money."
Kilgore is absolutely correct on his first point.
Most people are so stupid they make me want to puke with rage.
His second point isn't entirely correct.
Although I am a Jew most Jews I know make me sick.
I use to work for a wedding band as a roadie. It was a pretty good job.
The pay was good, (I got a flat rate that worked out to about $25-30/h), and there
were free drinks and food at the events I worked at.
About 90% of the weddings we did were Jewish weddings.
They were pretty much all the same, and they pretty much all made me sick.
Giant glorifications of themselves. They were events based on vainity.
I went to weddings that cost hundereds of thousands of dollars. And for what?
Couldn't the money have been spent on anything better than an excuse to amass an audience to
listen to speech after speech about how absolutely wonderful everyone else there is?
The decadence was wretched.
Sometimes I'd work Bar Mitzvahs. They were even worse. A Bar Mitzvah is suppose to be a
religious ritual. It's suppose to be part of the Jewish people's communion with God.
I don't think our ancestors would be impressed with the "Survivor" or "Star Wars" themes that
people pollute this ceremony with these days. It's truely revolting.
I remember being at more than one watching the social idiocy, thinking about how retarded this
notion of Judaism was, thinking about how disgusting the self indulgence of the whole thing was.
I remember thinking that maybe Hitler had the right idea after all.
I have made it known to those who will probably bury me, (MrsBloodyDiapers and my soon to be adopted son
Sandwich Guy), that there is no way in hell I want to be buried in a Jewish cemetery. I've spent most
of my life with these fucking people. There's no way I'm spending eternity with them too.
But despite all this I still think that Jews are better than most other people.
Hell, I'm still one of them no matter what I do and I gotta be on my own side don't I?
My buddy Kilgore recently posted the following comment at this very blog:
"The general public is made up of complete fucking idiots, Rev.
Except for the Jews, that is, which is why they have all the money."
Kilgore is absolutely correct on his first point.
Most people are so stupid they make me want to puke with rage.
His second point isn't entirely correct.
Although I am a Jew most Jews I know make me sick.
I use to work for a wedding band as a roadie. It was a pretty good job.
The pay was good, (I got a flat rate that worked out to about $25-30/h), and there
were free drinks and food at the events I worked at.
About 90% of the weddings we did were Jewish weddings.
They were pretty much all the same, and they pretty much all made me sick.
Giant glorifications of themselves. They were events based on vainity.
I went to weddings that cost hundereds of thousands of dollars. And for what?
Couldn't the money have been spent on anything better than an excuse to amass an audience to
listen to speech after speech about how absolutely wonderful everyone else there is?
The decadence was wretched.
Sometimes I'd work Bar Mitzvahs. They were even worse. A Bar Mitzvah is suppose to be a
religious ritual. It's suppose to be part of the Jewish people's communion with God.
I don't think our ancestors would be impressed with the "Survivor" or "Star Wars" themes that
people pollute this ceremony with these days. It's truely revolting.
I remember being at more than one watching the social idiocy, thinking about how retarded this
notion of Judaism was, thinking about how disgusting the self indulgence of the whole thing was.
I remember thinking that maybe Hitler had the right idea after all.
I have made it known to those who will probably bury me, (MrsBloodyDiapers and my soon to be adopted son
Sandwich Guy), that there is no way in hell I want to be buried in a Jewish cemetery. I've spent most
of my life with these fucking people. There's no way I'm spending eternity with them too.
But despite all this I still think that Jews are better than most other people.
Hell, I'm still one of them no matter what I do and I gotta be on my own side don't I?
Monday, June 07, 2004
I gotta find a new job
Yup, it's true.
I've completed 3 weeks with my current employer and I've pretty much lost interest in working for these fuckwads.
It's not that the job is very difficult.
Many things aren't difficult but you still might not want to do them.
Standing in a prison shower isn't difficult, but you want to get the fuck out of there before someone crams their penis into your asshole.
Every weekend MrsBloodyDiapers and I go to the supermarket. I like going to get food but I hate the supermarket. Mostly I hate the other shoppers. Maybe it's just the stores we go to, but it seems like places that sell food are magnets for the functionally retarded. I day-dream of showing up with an 9mm and executing every last fucker in the store. Especially the children.
I have decided to make a monetary donation to one of the political parties in the upcomming federal election.
I will be giving $100.00 to the Canadian Communist party. It is money I had intended to send to Ford Maverick, but he never sent me his address. The communists did.
I don't understand television commercials any more. There seem to be numerous ones in which the consumer is a fucking idiot. For example there have been these Best Buy commercials that involve some guy wanting to buy large speakers for a party he is hosting. We flash forward to the party where everyone is having a great time and the consumer, (for no apparent reason), climbs up on one of the speakers and then swan dives into this coffee table.
Then we are back in the store where the sales person is suggesting smaller speakers. Is this how people who create commercials see the general public? As complete fucking idiots? Or how about the products being offered?
How did civilization get this far without the new Canadian Tire self winding hose reel? What the fuck is that?
Can't people find anything better to spend their fucking money on?
Our friend Sandwhich Guy sent me this and has asked me to comment on it. Well, all I can say is that if you're some kinda fucking mud person, this may be your only way out. If you have some horrid disability, like being born a Chinaman, you can change you life. You can become a better human being. You can pull yourself out of that revolting predicament you call and life and become a Jew. Sure you'll be a second class Jew, but that's a hell of a lot better than being a first class nigger.
I've completed 3 weeks with my current employer and I've pretty much lost interest in working for these fuckwads.
It's not that the job is very difficult.
Many things aren't difficult but you still might not want to do them.
Standing in a prison shower isn't difficult, but you want to get the fuck out of there before someone crams their penis into your asshole.
Every weekend MrsBloodyDiapers and I go to the supermarket. I like going to get food but I hate the supermarket. Mostly I hate the other shoppers. Maybe it's just the stores we go to, but it seems like places that sell food are magnets for the functionally retarded. I day-dream of showing up with an 9mm and executing every last fucker in the store. Especially the children.
I have decided to make a monetary donation to one of the political parties in the upcomming federal election.
I will be giving $100.00 to the Canadian Communist party. It is money I had intended to send to Ford Maverick, but he never sent me his address. The communists did.
I don't understand television commercials any more. There seem to be numerous ones in which the consumer is a fucking idiot. For example there have been these Best Buy commercials that involve some guy wanting to buy large speakers for a party he is hosting. We flash forward to the party where everyone is having a great time and the consumer, (for no apparent reason), climbs up on one of the speakers and then swan dives into this coffee table.
Then we are back in the store where the sales person is suggesting smaller speakers. Is this how people who create commercials see the general public? As complete fucking idiots? Or how about the products being offered?
How did civilization get this far without the new Canadian Tire self winding hose reel? What the fuck is that?
Can't people find anything better to spend their fucking money on?
Our friend Sandwhich Guy sent me this and has asked me to comment on it. Well, all I can say is that if you're some kinda fucking mud person, this may be your only way out. If you have some horrid disability, like being born a Chinaman, you can change you life. You can become a better human being. You can pull yourself out of that revolting predicament you call and life and become a Jew. Sure you'll be a second class Jew, but that's a hell of a lot better than being a first class nigger.
Sunday, June 06, 2004
As I'm sure you already know Ronald Regan's dead.
The only thing that's disturbing about it is that it didn't happen 50 years ago.
The only thing that's disturbing about it is that it didn't happen 50 years ago.
Thursday, June 03, 2004
I Have Nothing To Say To Any Of You
Yup, it's true.
