Reactions the Gang had to Kool calling himself “Kool” and the rest of the band “the Gang”

In 1969, bass player Robert Bell informed his band that henceforth he would be known as “Kool”, while the band would be referred to as “the Gang”. Here are some reactions the Gang had to this news:

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“If you’re going to be Kool, then I demand you start calling me ‘Fuck Master’.”

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“I didn’t quit my job washing cigarettes just to be lumped in with the rest of these mother fuckers.”

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“Why not just call the rest of us ‘The Pieces of Shit’?”

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“I knew that girl named ‘Sexy’ would end up being a bad influence the minute you started dating her, man.”

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“I don’t understand — are you the leader of ‘the Gang’ or are you an independent entity? To whom do we pay gang dues to?”

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“Are you still going to make us egg salad on Tuesdays? Because that doesn’t sound like something a guy named ‘Kool’ would be into doing.”

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“It’s not so bad, I mean, gangs can be cool too, right? How about we get ourselves a symbol, something like, oh I don’t know, an old tin can full of garbage with a mother fuckin’ ‘G’ on it?”

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“It could be worse I ‘spose — I heard James Brown calls his band the Piss Drinkin’ Ass Brains.”

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“You named your infant son Meepy and you call yourself ‘Kool’? Poor Meepy.”

 

Classic army misunderstandings

Please welcome guest blogger Dale Cramer

I wrote a humourous advice column in the Windsor Gazette for forty years, earning accolades and more free coffee mugs than I got free coffees! The column was called The Cram and was known for its relatable parenting humour that teens could also enjoy, such as the Swiss Chalet Community Leader Award-winning piece “Got a Light?” where I compared smoking to drowning. When my column was canceled last month I decided it might be time to finally try my hand at blogging on the computer. I reached out to as many Internet sites as I could and thankfully this man Glenn gave me a shot. I was really happy to be able to include some more “X-Rated” material that my former editor scoffed at. No hard feelings, Raymond. Anyway, enjoy!

- Cram
(I can’t sign the computer screen but if you ever saw my column you’ll know I signed each one with my signature and a little picture of Cupid sticking his tongue out. This is where that would go)

Atten-hut! No, not the football
Classic Army Misunderstandings
by Dale Cramer

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Thanks to my son Nick for finding this great ‘toon

It’s every young man’s dream to serve his country, but it ain’t all crisp white sheets and lifelong camaraderie. The army has its own language and terminology that even confused yours truly back when I was in the Canadian reserves. Please email these to your wives, boys!

It’s an ambush

Don’t try telling a platoon of thirsty soldiers there’s an ambush waitin’ for ‘em — they might think you’re talking about an ice cold Anheuser-Busch beer (or ‘water’ as us canucks call it).

Caught in a booby trap

If there’s one surefire way to give soldiers the jollies it’s any mention of a booby trap — dream come true, eh?

Give no quarter 

A kill-hungry solider foams at the mouth when he’s able to give no quarter, but don’t utter the words around a young arcade (or should I say blockade) monkey! Boy I’ve heard of too many joystick jockeys gunned down in the field only because their rucksack was so full of quarters it was weighin’ ‘em down.

Barbed Wire

It’s not uncommon for young soldiers to confuse the sharp stuff with the skin flick starring the stunning Pamela Lee. Keep your pistols in your pants boys, you don’t want catch your dinger on a real deal barbed wire fence — if you’re not going to die in the field, you’d better at least be able to reproduce!

- Cram
**cartoon of cupid sticking his tongue out**

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The only reason I let this guy do this is because he said he’d do it for free and because he allowed to me post his pic, which is totally worth it. Check this guy out:

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Classic Canada Day fireworks

Canada Day is right around the corner and you know what that means: laying in a puddle of gravy and beer while watching fireworks. This year, instead of blankly staring to the sky and hoping no one steals the shoes made out of twenty dollar bills that you’re wearing, think about what you’re actually looking at.

See if you can recognize the Canadian classics below and maybe play a little BINGO game with your friends with the winner getting a peek at the loser’s underpants.

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The Pubes of John Diefenbaker

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Halifax Explosion

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Mississauga Diarrhea

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Laura Secord’s Tears

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Gay D-Day

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Calgary Flames

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Canadian Fire

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I Mother Burst

 

World Cup fever… and why you should ignore it

Balls have been inflated and fields of dog hair have been dyed a beautiful grass green — the three hundredth edition of the World Cup of football has begun! As expected, the world is watching, cheering on their nations while wishing illness and death to opponents. It’s a truly global event fuelled by patriotism and sportsmanship while shining a light on the giant butts of host country Brazil.

But as the world celebrates, I will not be. I will be ignoring the frenzied event and it may not be for reasons you’d expect.

Much has been made of the disparity between Brazil’s rich and poor and how an event like the World Cup does its best to ignore such enormous issues. I don’t really care about that though, I mean, what country doesn’t have a sprinkle of poor and a dash of rich? Why should one fella having a few more bars of gold than his neighbour/slave ruin my enjoyment of the “beautiful game”? Besides, the tournament should only help to influence poor Brazilian youth to stop going to school to concentrate on football, the only high-paying job they’re likely to get unless they’re willing to sell their genitals to those who collect such things. And do the rich not deserve an event of this magnitude? Would you rather they spend their silver on fresh juices squeezed from the rain forest or betting on dolphin battles?

A football coach rightfully screams at a poor boy for trying to watch his expensive practice

A football coach rightfully screams at a poor boy for trying to watch his expensive practice

There’s also been heated discussion on the unethical behaviour of international football’s governing body, FIFA. To me, the controversy has been severely overblown. It’s not like it’s easy babysitting hundreds of severely stupid and entitled athletes whose education is limited to what they saw in their periphery while gazing out the school window at the apple trees that reminded them of little red footballs and/or the round breasts of soccer’s horniest female fans. In my world you let a babysitter run the house as they see fit, especially when the children are spoiled monsters. Also, I wouldn’t want to work for a boss who isn’t afraid to engage in a bit of corruption if it means a stronger bottom line and a corporate culture that screams “don’t fuck with us”. If Steve Jobs had’ve been a tea sippin’ hand-shaker rather than the hot-headed fuck face he was, would we be tappin’ on emails from grandma on a screen no thicker than the gills of a freshwater trout? Not likely.

Football without FIFA

Football without FIFA

I can handle the exploitation of the poor and ridiculously corrupt politics and you should too unless you’re a whiny idiot with too many granola bars stuffed into the pocket of your Microsoft Surface tablet case.

I just don’t know enough about football and think hockey is better. It’s just kinda boring, you know? My country isn’t participating nor is the country of my ancestors. What do you expect me to do, cheer for damn Uruguay? I haven’t even tried Uraguayan food. You agree, right? You’ll ignore the final match and come to my DJ set and BBQ bash that I booked last year before I realized there’s a World Cup, eh? Don’t be stupid, it’s a five dollar cover and that includes corn chips and obviously the hottest dance patio around. Bring this flyer and get a free glass of plum wine and a satin oven mitt from Basil’s Bitch Water:

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Zoodles: The Motion Picture (2014)

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Coming soon to the kind of theatre that still serves hot dogs and The Heinz Annual Executive Retreat, Beach Glass Resort and Country Club, Turks and Caicos.

 

4 litres of reasons it might be laundry day

Laundry is the act of cleaning your clothes. Here’s how to know that it’s time to do that:

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Your bathing suit has grass stains on it

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You turned two belts into a thong

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The stain on your t-shirt smells like the gravies of your youth

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There’s a healthy crop of onions growing from your laundry basket

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Your wife caught you vacuuming your jeans

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The spiders who live in your laundry pile have mended the holes in your dirty old khakis by spinning silk patches.

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You caught yourself licking your lips at a pair of socks in the department store

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You read one of those Internet lists about Signs It’s Laundry Day and you’re like “that’s me”

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You go home and look at your pile of dirty clothes and think “that’s definitely me”

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You go to the laundromat. The the owner takes one look at your clothes and says “get outta here, you’ll break the equipment”

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You try to donate your dirty clothes to a homeless  shelter and tell ask if you’d like a bed.

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You stay the night because it’s been a long day

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The next day you go to Mark’s Work Wearhouse and buy new clothes

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A new era begins

Macaulay on Macaulay – Part 1

The following excerpt is from an essay by the author recently published in the European Journal of Modern Boy Studies entitled “Macaulay on Macaulay”. From chapter 1, page 34, appendix 4.b:

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“His mop of golden hair is what struck me, initially. It perfectly encapsulated mischievousness while still projecting innocence. I was just another boy with hair of brown, unable to feel a sense of uniqueness, yearning for a feature that I might be able to call my own. Did I find it? My friend, the tale of that journey is still being written!”

 

The bright side

I’m known around the prairies as a happy guy who doesn’t seem to let things bother him. One reason for this is because of my gold, but the other is that I have the ability to look on the bright side of shit, rather than the shit side of things. I asked readers to submit problems that they just can’t seem to look positively upon so that I might be able to help using my bright outlook on life.

The Bright Side

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At least this man is getting some fresh air

Kicky from Sudbury asks: Please, what’s the bright side of having zits?

Come on, seriously? I can tell you how despite popular opinion, not loving watermelon isn’t that bad, opening a door to the world of pineapples, but don’t expect me to solve the fuckin’ DaVinci Code. I guess my best advice is to go to the drug store for creams and pray that crackers are on sale.

Nil from Montreal asks: Tell me there’s a positive to having all these warts!

Fuck, I don’t know, I’ve had a few warts in my day and they ain’t exactly “boob magnets” you know? Ummm, they’re like… uhhh, at least your body works if you can make them, right? Never heard of a dead guy growing warts!

Bebb from Kelowna wonders: How can I mentally deal with hair in bad places?

What, like pubes? Sorry, you’re going to have to be more specific. I’m losing my hair so you won’t get much sympathy from me. If you don’t like it, go back in time to before you were born and tell your mother to have sex with some guy who’s not your hairy dad. That’s a bright side, right? Time travel? Pretty fun?

I should’ve screened these before. Look, some shit in this world sucks really bad but you always have to imagine someone who’s way worse off than you. I like to create really awful characters in my head then assign them little poems that I can easily recall when I’m feeling bad. Here’s an example based on the issues you submitted:

Name: Don Penis
Age: 18
Hair: Stinky
Eye Colour: Rat Red
Parents: Can’t cook

The poem:

All my zits have warts, all my warts have hair
All the stains are brown in my underwear

Next time you’re feeling down, just imagine Don Penis and how bad it is for her.

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A young Ms. Penis

 

Weird Al Karaoke this Friday

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Torontonians should stop what they’re thinking about and start thinking about attending this month’s edition of WEIRD AL KARAOKE, the city’s only show where comedians sing their own parody songs to backing tracks. Holy shit, what a fun sounding evening. It’s June 6th at 10pm at Comedy Bar at five dollars. This month we got:

James Hartnett
Miguel Rivas
Brendan Halloran & Stacey McGunnigle
Scott Yamamura
Craig Anderson
Evany Rosen
Gillian Bartolucci
Jon Blair

With hosting by me, Weird Glenn and lights and sound by DJ Sports (Andy Hull).

To hear some songs I’ve sung at past events, click your fuckin’ mouse right here.

Movie review – X-Men: Days of Future Past

X-Men: Days of Future Past

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The X-Men team is in trouble again, meaning it’s gonna be ANOTHER long stretch before they can enjoy any sort of leisure time. Do they even get paid to do any of their tricks? This time around the X-Men of the future are pissed that they’re not the best anymore so they send everybody’s favourite naughty boy, Wolverine, back in time to straighten it out before some furnace-faced bots take over.

Ha! As if it were that easy. The Canadian hero known for his six knives kind of screws up mostly because he messes with the frustratingly unstoppable magnet man who is so powerful that he should rightly be included in future editions of the Bible. They eventually figure it out of course, but at what cost? $12.99 for the ticket, no popcorn, just a stick of gum I brought from home.

Most mutants in this movie looked like a middle-aged person’s vision of a graffiti artist and every one of them knew more than enough karate to make up for the shortcomings of whatever power makes them a weirdo.

The bulk of the movie takes place in the 1970s but don’t worry, you won’t get distracted by the fact that not one character knows what you know about computers and the 24 hour news cycle–these guys are all business. Even if the movie took place today they still wouldn’t have had time to check email anyway–no one had time to eat anything in this movie or even stop for a drink of water.

The special effects made the human actors really appear to be the stylish monsters they were supposed to be, while Hugh Jackman and his team of Hollywood trainers and dietitians did a great job making his arm veins look like perfect al dente spaghetti.

The actors knew their lines really well even though most of them only had a few. Heck, Ellen Page spent the whole thing sitting down with her hands around Hugh’s head. There were lots of good lines that were mostly just variations of stuff like, “hope is the greatest human tool” and “our future is ours and hope is our future and be nice” and classic ‘blah blahs’ like that, but I don’t like small talk anyway, so who cares?

I’d give this movie a “go see it, it made me wish I had a power other than being kind”. It didn’t feel very long and I didn’t check my watch once.