420 snack pack with Easter

Today is a big day for almost everyone in North America, whether you’re a chilled out dripper or a blood of Christ sipper. Whoever you are and whatever you believe, you have something to celebrate on April 20th, 2014, the anniversary of not only Jesus’ best prank but also something to do with pot users getting the Internet.

In this year’s snack pack I’m going to include a little something for everyone, like a salad bar that doesn’t ignore the old cheese and crackers. Thankfully, there’s a lot of overlap because both groups really enjoy asking stupid questions. Weedies, grab your biggest cone and start gettin’ thirsty, and Pew Dudes, grab your favourite Bibby verse and assume the position, let’s get crazy….

420 Easter Psychedelic and Snack Pack with Piety

And doooWnnnnn THE rabbbit whole weeeee gô….!!???!!!!!

We start our wild trip with the rabbit himself….question for the “higher ups”, is the Easter bunny a boy or a girl or does the universe care??? I don’t know but think about what gender our stars are…. is it working???? And a query for the believers, have you been good this year??


Jesus with you (one of his bunnies) in his arms


420′s Easter Rabbit

Further down we go….. more questions arise to expand your minds….if we can’t see sound then it should at least smell, right? And don’t forget that everything in Jesus’ time smelled like shit and that isn’t anything against him it was just that the barnyard and backyard were one and the same. Here’s some juice for both of your cups whether it’s a scared chalice or a big plastic hologram one from 7-11 that has Triple H on it…

Let’s now speed things up shall we?? But what is speed if the Earth only moves at one speed? That should have both parties thinking out loud while those around them just want to listen to their headphones, but this isn’t their day is it???


God’s creation, weed’s foundation


Approved by ministers AND sinisters

If Earth is 80% water then why do only 20% of us own boats?

Okay, that was heavy, it’s time to come down a bit, for our trip is almost over, yet every end is another beginning unless there are no sequels, but in Jesus’ case his second sequel is still in development.


Did they eat cat in Biblical times? Yes, because they were allowed.


Is this not what we are all fighting for?

And we arrive back at our normal consciousness in the only dimension we know. I hope that I have successfully aided in a beautiful holiday for I am here to serve and to get blaaaaazedddd and think about how Jesus would’ve really enjoyed the groundbreaking skateboarding that happened in the early late 80s/early 90s.


Here’s a photo gallery from two years ago featuring some of 2012′s hottest starts smoking on some of 2012′s best burnt ends. I think everyone here is still alive but the value of their autographs may have fluctuated, for better or worse.

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32nd birthday

For premium and non-premium members, not geo-locked


Today, April 8th, is my 32nd birthday, and since I believe in fairness, I wanted to make sure that I’m not the only one getting a butt load of gifts. Please enjoy this free Mutil-Pak normally reserved for Platinum Members and high ranking employees of major retail chains (gotta grease the wheels, you know?) Platinum Members and employees of Mark’s Work Warehouse, don’t worry, you’ll each be receiving a gift via post. Do not open the package if it starts humming. You’ll have to submerge it in rubbing alcohol, THEN open it unless you’re cool with not having a forehead anymore. Enjoy, I’ll be in the shower washing the cake out of my ears.


Fuck you man, it’s birthday day
A time to laugh and shit and play
Folks greet with treats and smiles
Presents line up for miles and miles

Someone buy my lunch
Someone buy my shoes
Someone give me hugs
Someone give me good news

The news is always good on birthday day
Unless someone dies by laser ray
Oh wait, that’s cool no matter what
I’d rather that than tumors in my butt

homemade Birthday MEME garden






Who shares my birthday and what, cosmically speaking, does it mean?


No surprise here, four blonde bombers and two rugged hunks – myself and Tay.

I also share my birthday with Biz Markie, the premiere of Twin Peaks, the day they found Kurt Cobain’s pizza-encrusted corpse and the release of The Offspring’s Smash. If you were to mash these thingies up into a fine paste you’d get something that resembles early Limp Bizkit, featuring my father, Fred Durst. The cosmos have spoken!

Birthday HOROSCOPE as told by the seer that served me wings last night:

Man, I think you’re like, probably 30 or so, I don’t know, but you got some grey hair but your eyes would be good to use in photoshop for like, any project. You dress like a dad on a sitcom except your clothes have logos and like, I think you should maybe start wearing fuckin hush puppies or whatever, your shoes are fuckin pure hobby. You’ll be okay though, you don’t have zits and you’re not fat yet bro. You still play video games? What’s your gamer tag I can tell a lot about someone from their fuckin tag. I saw George Wendt online once, profile fuckin screamed “I don’t get it, but I’m trying anyway”. Funny fuckin guy though, fuckin smoked him at COD but fuck, I’m 21 and I get wasted by 11 year olds all the fuckin time. If there was a war right now, no joke, i’d fuckin tell STephen Harper to hire those little fuckers cuz they got aim.



Alan’s Dumb House (2014)


Now playing in most major stories told by the type of guy who lives by the sea and never wears socks.

Spring Glennalysis

According to the angle of the shade coming off the lemon grove, it’s gotta be tax time, one of the dumbest times of year next to that one hour every September when I work as a human dog collar on an elephant at the zoo. Okay Ian, go ahead…

… Ian’s scream means it’s time for…



Quick Stats
Subject – Taxes
Importance – Not as important as bones, more important than the mall
Born – Umm probably around the time we realized that cooked cow tastes better with no hair left on it
Enemy – Dead people

The Nitty Gribby


Anyone who owns money is effected by taxes. That includes rich people whose toilet seat covers are made from the kilts of famous Scots as well as little kids who get a sucker from grandma every time they learn what something really boring is. Heck, I got two packs of gummi worms when I figured out that walls aren’t just lame TVs.


Taxes are dollars you give to the government that they use to build your city’s castles and to fund programs like witch hunts and pit fighting. Everyone pays a different amount based on how much land they own and how much jam they produce in a given year. It’s pretty simple: more land and more jam means more taxes, while less jam and less land mean less taxes, but more wolves sent by the government to scare you into making more jam and discovering new land, which is impossible to do unless you train your wolf to sniff out fresh soil. It’s a bit of a complicated formula but so is milk and yet one taste and you pretty much know.


“Okay, but only if you promise to kill mom”


Taxes happen pretty much everywhere except the beach. The beach doesn’t need anything, not even lifeguards anymore because our computers tell us if there’s trouble way before a trained, blonde and brown shiny can spot it. Taxes even happen in undeveloped villages but on a smaller and far simpler scale. The Chief decides who pays what based on things you and I in the first world don’t put much stock into, like how quickly one can de-spine a lizard and how hallucinogenic one’s lizard spine and poisonous mushroom tea is. If it makes others start theorizing about lasers (commonplace to you and I) then the successful “barista” only has to give away one son.


This is the dumbest part of any Glennalysis, the part I hate the most. Come on man, I said it in the intro. Do you want to know when Christmas is too? Fine. I’ll give you a hint – the one day a year that God spoils his little boy, know what I mean? Since I’m known as the Bad Boy of Internet Ave. I’ll instead use this space for a classic rant:

Winter has been a pile of shit this year, with low temperatures, snow and all sorts of comings and goings in the world of late night. We’re only now getting a short stretch of “good” weather, only “good” means that I don’t have to stuff my pants with cats to avoid frost bite. My lesson for the day is to not get too excited; I’m not pessimist but I do know what’s up when it comes to worrying about things.

Now lets get back to “brad’s tax”!


Because the rich are too busy giving their kids a Bankers Oreo (two toons and a loon) for snack instead of the more easily digestible kind engineered and produced by Nabisco.


“If there’s money in here it’s mine, if it’s full of pasta it’s yours”

Final Thoughts

Why do we have to “do” our taxes, that seems like a trap. The government puts all these regulations in and is like, pay for this, pay for that, and most of us don’t really know what we’re paying for then once a year they’re like “you must pay more and we’re not going to tell you how much, you gotta figure that out and if you’re wrong you’re in big fuckin trouble”.

Movie review – The Grand Budapest Hotel

the grand budapest hotel


Pack a keg of sarsaparilla and hitch up the wagons, you’re about to be taken back to the Wild Wes where no there is no Internet and everyone takes the stairs or quirky, well-maintained machines that run on cables. The patron saint of the Wilson family is back with a movie about a horny concierge who works at the sickest hotel in a made up country that probably has some literary significance. The action begins with a dead old lady who stays dead the whole time, no ghosts.

In news that wouldn’t even be shocking to a cavemen who only saw a sliver of Tenenbaums before being led to a facility where scientists are to study his toenails, Grand Budapest stays true to Texas native Anderson’s signature moves. Every character is adorned with enough cute little buttons and pins that Johnny Rotten looks downright bare in comparison. And don’t think for a second that anything in the film went unlabelled. By the end I knew the name and number of every human, wall, car, door, and envelope, which was good because, you know, I wouldn’t want to worry so much about the identity of a stylistic radio communication device that I shit my slacks in the middle of the screening.

“Ease meets Wes”


Anderson stuck to his cute little labelled guns when it came to casting as well, employing the services of Hollywood’s most trusted and of course a no-name boy whose lack of acting ability is expertly hidden amongst the lack of anything resembling reality and a forest of Oscar havers who if I acted with would make my Australian accent seem like it was coming out the mouth of Mr. Foster himself.

And what would be a review of a “babe” without talking about the her looks and her lumpy-in-the-right-spots body? Wes the Corduroy Boy is back at the easel, painting a movie full of colours you’ve seen but probably haven’t respected. The mains in this 100 minute meal were pinks, purples and oranges of bygone eras, dusted off and labelled or stitched as if to be catalogued for some art ween to re-discover fifty years later and used as the muse in an exhibit about how our generation needed hands to use computers.

There was more wood in the film’s grandiose set pieces than all the wood in the forest where Harry the bigfoot chilled in Harry and the Hendersons, which to that same inquisitive future art ween, may sound like it belongs in Anderson’s oeuvre. “Anderson’s latest, Harry and the Hendersons follows a Parisian footballer who secretly wants to fly hot air balloons to impress the President’s one-eyed daughter”. John Lithgow and Bill Murray should do a movie together where they play rival farmers, eh?


I must’ve liked this thing because after I watched it I noticed so many cute things in my own life that I’ve overlooked like how the key in the back door always sticks and how we’ve been putting up with a faulty toilet handle for the last two months.

The  music was about the same, lots of harpsichord and shit.

Overall I’d give this movie a “go ahead, it won’t ruin your day and it’s not that long”. I didn’t wiggle around much during it and I came in second in TimePlay only because I forgot that both Affleck brothers were in Good Will Hunting. This movie is probably better than Good Will Hunting but I saw that movie when I was more impressionable and was probably like “oohhhh that smart hothead is everything I want to be except poor”.


St. Patrick’s Day archive poem

Oh. My. God. I am so embarrassed. I try to show the world I’m the most organized Torontonian since the autistic librarian whose legendary eyes were dubbed “Twin Potatoes” by the press, and yet here I am, a week late bringing this premium content into your homes.
The truth is, I was on vacation last week in the mountains and due to the fun of swooshing down a ski hill on a coupla plastic knives as well as the altitude sickness I felt most of the time, I plum forgot. I say break out the Irish whiskey, ignore everyone you love, recall what you did last Monday and shut the fuck up, because here’s the poem I was talking about that isn’t really that new, but is still applicable to today’s issues.

A poem for St. Patrick

Oh you green man, your day is here
When lasses and lads drink purple beer
Haha, you’re smart, you caught my lie
Now let’s all eat some apple pie
What’s that? No pie? Not today?
I don’t think I get this holiday

This is the one where people chew
And give small gifts to their nephew

They swat at bees and swim all day
While sisters bake their cassoulets

We all wear ties, even the misses
And each give our legs 100 kisses

Don’t give me that look you stupid shit
This is St. Patrick’s Day, isn’t it?

I guess my parents lied to me
Cause we celebrate with pies and bees

Green beer, dumb hats and leprechauns?
I think I’ll pass and head to Don’s

My dad and I will kiss some legs
And eat St. Patrick’s Easter Eggs

And I can’t wait until Christmas Day
When we eat a bear and pretend we’re gay

Weekend Wonders, Tuesday special

Mother Earth doesn’t give a flying fuck about what day of the week it is but we need to know so that we don’t order the wrong sub. At least the current system gives us two treats a week in the form of Saturday and Sunday, not Sadder Day and Sun Day (sun can be good but yeah right there’s no aliens hiding behind it). In this feature we remind you about the wonders that exist only on weekends, not unlike the lush vegetation and tropical fruit flavours that exist only in places that aren’t shitty.



There’s this crazy new dance going around where you grab your partner by the chin, stare into their eyes and see if they’re lying. You can dance on a weekday but don’t be surprised if the next day your boss takes your swollen knees as an invitation to touch you.



Most drinks aren’t for the pure pleasure of taste, they all perform a function whether you like it or not. Here’s a rhyme to help you remember

Water makes you live
Beer makes you funny
Milk makes you strong
Juice costs money



There’s no “right” way to sleep unless you’re a champion, which of course I’ve never purported to be. If sleeping is anything like skateboarding then its Tony Hawk is the first caveman to wrap himself in the dead bodies he decided not to eat. If sleeping is anything like skateboarding then in two thousand years everybody will be shredding at night and on weekends they’ll do it a bit longer and go have a big breakfast (dinner) after.

A bed can be anything you want it to be as long as you sleep on it. 65% of North American adults associate their beds with the uhh, you know… the “first stage of pregnancy”, completely ignorant of the fact that the rest of the developed world makes their sex in the river. Don’t be scared to get more comfortable on the weekends. Our household has different pillows and blankies for every day of the week :

Monday: Pillow is guitar gig bag filled with old egg cartons. Blanket is whatever you can find during rush hour scavenge. It’s hard, especially in the winter. This week all I found was organics so I instead used two suitcases I was planning on throwing out (still counts) because they were too big to make shoes out of.

Tuesday: Pillow is a bowl filled with cake. Blanket is musty sleeping bag that my dad might’ve done weird things in.

Wednesday: Pillow is pool noodle sculpture (now we’re talking). Blanket is ironing board cover (pre-warmed from ironing Saturday’s blanket).

Thursday: Pillow is doggy tent. Blanket is dogs.

Friday: Pillow is regular pillow. Blanket is aluminum foil with saran wrap liner for feel of silk.

Saturday: Pillow is nine pillows in custom cases made from quirky pyjamas from the nineties. Blanket is quilt made from catholic school girl kilts, don’t worry, not gross, never been worn, just weird sizes.

Sunday: Pillow is child’s bed, blanket is old parachute that was stuck in a palm tree, smells like coconuts, a bit of blood from dead skydiver but worth a lot because skydiver was rich man who owned the island he splattered on, international news, 1986.


Sad Dad (2013)

Sad Dad (2013)

Coming soon to a life near you

Glenn Power Rankings

Dust the walnuts off your bra and put on your dinner mask, it’s the March edition of GLENN POWER RANKINGS where I fill you in on what’s hot and what’s snot in my life. Talk about a time capsule for first world, white people, 30 something comedian, never owned a dog, Ford over Chevy and likes to cook problems. Trust me, I’m not completely beige — my uniqueness is derived from my beard, which splashes across my face like continents on a map, rather than framing it like mutton chops on a foreign woman who appears wise.



1. Long Johns 
Last month – #2

I know, I know, it’s the obvious choice, but Time Magazine wouldn’t hesitate to put a picture of a fat lion on the cover if we started feeding those guys our trash so why should I sweat it? It’s so cold outside that last Sunday at church my priest said “Hell ain’t lookin’ too bad right now”. Someone in the crowd responded “Go to Florida” and the priest said “yeah yeah I get it”.

2. Sandwiches with Yellow Mustard 
Last month – #4

Yellow mustard’s tang has lit up February’s sandwiches like a Christmas tree in a hot shed, while its colour has stained Glenn’s fingernails, making his guitar fretboard look like something out of Ringo’s collection. Why did it take me so long to get into the paste that aliens will assume bees make? I think I was always attracted to the shiny red of ketchup not unlike a child who favours a fire engine over a puddle of piss that has mixed with mud.

3. Drinking Coffee at 5pm 
Last month – #37

I don’t drink coffee so that I’ll be able to face the day, I can do that just by having a good shower and thinking how much stuff I’ve been able to leave in my parent’s basement without them throwing it out. I drink coffee to fuel the writing process (and to look cool in front of the kids I babysit), so slamming one after work means I can usually last until around 7pm. I reward myself with dinner then lie under blankets until it’s time for chips. Of course my real schedule is vastly different from what I just told you as I can’t give any help to the robbers out there looking to break-in and steal the secrets of how I organize my socks and undies.

4. Getting Wife to Watch Internet Videos 
Last month – #11

I just force her now, it’s easy. She said “send me the actual link and I’ll actually watch it”. I did, she did, and the marriage can safely move onto phase 2 — hugging without gloves on and taking shifts guarding the bedroom from the ghost chef who complains about sleeping in the fridge.

5. Eating Shrimp
Last month – #3

I don’t really have anything against shrimp at the moment but I ate so much of it in January and February that my tongue is threatening to pretend to enjoy the taste of shit so that I’ll start eating it. I can’t have that on my resumé ahead of this spring’s April Lick.

6. Korean BBQ 
Last month – #5

I want my food to produce tears of nourishment and taste, not disappointment and I got kimchi in my eye.

7. Listening to Podcasts 
Last month – #3

I can’t listen to podcasts at home because I’m not willing to go through the hassle of burning them onto a CD then finding some D batteries for my Sony. Due to the weather I can’t listen to them on the go because it’s too cold and my blood is sick of being treated like I’m some sort of cold-blooded snaker who can adapt to this bullshit just by putting on some boots and burying my head under the compost pile.

8. Grease Stains
Last month – #8

Grease stains on my crew necks has been a constant headache all winter long. I’m not talking about your run-of-the-mill dots on a boring old plain grey, I’m talkin’ big splotches on my top name brand poppers. This is partly due to the deep fryer we got but also because I’ve been eating a lot of greasy food so that my body won’t be so dependent on gum.

Premium members will be able to check out the full 407 point list starting at midnight tonight along with a scanned version of my birth certificate and the final instalment in my series of Best Gumshoes. Detective buffs should know exactly what to expect, but for everyone else, get those library cards ready (hint) because you’ll be headed straight to MYSTERIES once it’s revealed.

Movie review – The Lego Movie


The Lego Movie has been one of the most successful movies of 2014 so far because everyone from those who like licorice allsorts to those who think they’re worse than hay on a pizza, wants to see it. Here are some other things that appeal to both adults and kids in case you’re looking to beef up your portfolio or beef down your obsession with talcum powder:

Pond Fishing

The Lego Movie is about a normal Lego construction worker who tries to save his world by stopping a bad guy who wants everything to be normal — sounds like the hero to me. Anyway, the construction worker gets together with some other Lego licensed products and they fly around crashing into things.


Mad Magazine, February 2014

Everything in the movie is supposed to look like Lego even though it was all done on computers, teaching children everywhere that Lego is too hard and computers are easy. Can you imaging if Grumpy Old Men had cast Tony Hawk instead of Walter Mathau?!

The voices of the Lego men are provided by stars Chris Pratt of NBC and Morgan Freeman, my favourite freckle face.

The message of this toy story is to be yourself and to not worry if you’re a boring idiot. The message of Toy Story was to not throw out toys because they’re really alive even though they don’t have blood. It also had some really funny parts where Tim Allen got amnesia outside of the Home Improvement universe — worth the price of admission alone.

There was a bit of eating in the movie and not one bathroom scene although they mentioned butts quite a lot. I think babies find butts so funny because parents take them so seriously. It’s like “put your butt here” and “aim your butt THERE” while the kid is all “I don’t know how to use this thing”. It’s the classic parent/child relationship doom pit where kids like whatever parents don’t  (drugs, forts).


A guy made of Lego and a guy made of clothes bought at Winners

Did this movie make me want to get up and buy Lego? Of course it did. Did I buy any after I saw the movie? Not yet. I actually got into the movie for free because we got some passes for Christmas instead of Lego. The only reason I’m including this paragraph is for tax purposes. I was audited once back in ’07 and if I hadn’t blogged about the adventure that led to me finding 50 free guitar picks, I would’ve owed Harper my entire ’08 garlic budget.

The Wizard took a lot of flak for being a big ad for Nintendo but it least it wasn’t called The Nintendo Movie. Obviously the promotional aspects and title didn’t hurt The Lego Movie’s box office returns but maybe if they had called it Toy Dude and The Problem it would’ve attracted parents and children of the Ivy League and beyond.

I can say that I enjoyed the movie because it was colourful and I don’t think Amy Adams was in it. Since this is technically a kids movie I can let you little guys know that the part your peers laughed at the most was when the hero tumbles down a pit for half a minute. By that logic, they’d find the Hobbit Part 2 funnier than Dora the Explorer shitting her pants in the jungle.

I’ve been a Lego fan my whole life except when I was a teenager because my mind was on zits, toilets and girls. That being said, The Lego Movie brings back fond memories of screaming at my sister for dismantling my sets and then being frustrated by not being able to build what was in my head in real life. The movie tells us that it’s easy to do anything if we put our minds to it, but that’s not true. Ask me to draw a simple fuckin’ guy playing golf and no matter how hard I try his arms won’t look like arms at all.

I shared one popcorn and had one drink to myself. I’d say go see this unless you’re super poor.