Cross Border Haircut

Now that Dongald is Grand Moff of her United States, we Canadians aren’t so eager to hop longitudes to enjoy American roads and avenues named after famous trees. We used to get excited at the prospect of prancing into the Eagle’s nest to buy legendary cereals, eat at restaurants with big food, and drop major coin on cheap milk thanks to your rock bottom food standards. But with the oven now preheated to “Hell”, we’ll probably be spending our Queens on local grease instead.

There are still a few things worth boinging the border for and that’s basically the thesis of the piece unless you’re more visual than visceral, in which case we invited you to enjoy the proceedings from a font standpoint.

Check these things out:

Cross Border Haircut

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“I am a barber, I am strong, I will quit if I snip wrong” – U.S. Snipocratic Oath

This one’s pretty simple: There are more people in the United States than in Canada. More people = more hair; more hair=more haircuts; more haircuts=more experienced barbers; more experienced barbers=better barbers; better barbers=better haircuts; better haircuts=better TV; better TV=popcorn sales; popcorn sales=corn profits; corn profits=more money for corn masters; more money for corn masters=happier corn masters; happier corn masters=more sex; more sex=more babies; more babies=more hair; more hair=more barbers.

It’s also worth noting that Vidal Sassoon arrived in the United States in 1965(!).

Cross Border God Shows

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“The only animal in this ark is our Wi-Fi password, which is BlackToad

There’s no denying that America’s gaga for God-god, and while tons of Yankee dudes and dudettes are loudest when yelling at Him inside their own heads during evening prayer, many more prefer to broadcast their praise from within immense crystal churches in stunning 4K and Dolby Stereo Surround Sound.

Our local Jesters of Jesus are more modest preferring “ministry miniseries” over “bethel blockbusters”. Our northern worshippers aim for a ceremonial tone that jives with stodginess of the Bible herself. I mean, you wouldn’t put a lacy bra on a beef’s udder now would you?

If you really want to see some praying, head over to the U.S. where billboards scream the Bible’s best, and real deal barkers pack immense complexes with fans and state-the-art wireless PA systems. Sometimes you gotta realize that money is best spent amplifying the voices of god’s faves as opposed to helping those god has deemed unfit to have money.

Cross Border Survival Games

“Hello boy, where do you wander?
Here is a riddle for you to ponder:
Down this path and up another;
Where man’s soul is torn asunder;
Whispers, spirits, evil things;
One plus two makes woodland kings”
– Unknown

Most of the world hates the same things as America, such as crud, wasps, goo, and the flu. But for some reason they’re the only ones who have a problem with socialized healthcare. That means that every trip into the Fab Fifty is a potentially dangerous mission where even a cute cut could translate to millions of dollars in wallet damage.

If you like to live dangerously, there’s no better way to put your blood at stake than by going to a place where guns are sprinkled into the landscape like salt on a baker’s apprentice’s fake pretzel. If you’re looking to roll the dice but can’t find a flock of glocks to get spicy with, ramp it up by getting a simple scrape then running around nude in the American woods. Try to survive the system and your numerous infections. If things get dicey you can return home to your Canadian doctor who has no idea if you’re rich or poor unless you wear one of those hats with the logo of your car on it.

Okay thanks for reading! Now it’s time for the OFFICIAL glennmacaulay.com blog after show:

 

Movie Review — John Wick: Chapter 2

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A good movie sequel is like a hot roast coming out of the oven after you just ate the same roast. The new roast has great potential because no matter what it is fresher than the first roast, but then maybe you’re not as hungry because you already had one roast. This is the kind of meal that I experienced when I saw John Wick part 2 now in theatres.

John Wick: He’s a man, and he’s two movies. Everything you loved about him and it is back because John Wick is back in John Wick 2 where Wick is back on the job as the world’s most unkillable killer.

He hates his damn job but whenever you kill someone people get pissed so John has to keep doing his job or he’ll die from getting killed by another guy who wants revenge even though he’s the hardest to kill in the world. The bad guys want to kill him so bad but they and us know that John Wick is the best killer in town. The only way to kill a guy like this is for everyone in the world to try to get him and that’s sort of what happens in this movie. It’s a bit weird  because in the world of John Wick most people are killers who use gold coins instead of money to get a nice New York hot dog or to pay another guy from doing something for them.

Wick shoots his way through tons of guys and only two girls at the speed of a tornado and looks as cool as he is sad as he travels from New York City to Rome to New York City again for more action.

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The fact that this is an urban movie is a real treat for people living in the country because they already think everyone in the city wants to kill them and this movie does a good job at keeping them scared of that.

If the first Wick was about his doggy, this one was more about John Wick. Before the movie my real brother told me that his dog grew up and became his guard dog in this movie so I expected to see the dog eat someone but sorry, all it does is hang out, no big deal.

John Wick doesn’t eat anything in this movie but one of the bad guys has a great scene where he nibbles a very tasty looking artisanal french fry that brought back memories of the bald guy from Matrix eating a steak in front of the agent who was a tough guy to kill, like John Wick. That’s a pretty interesting connection for movie fans who are more like sleuths than regular watchers like me.

The soundtrack has nothing for me to add to my iPod so here’s a rap I wrote that would’ve been ultra cool during the closing credits, with a rude beat I found on the Internet that you can use to sing along:

Light the wick, I’m talking John Wick
Forrest Gump? Nah, what are you, sick?

He’ll shoot your skull to make sure that you die
He’s got a suit on his back and a gun to his eye
He aims straight and never runs out of guns
It’s Keanu baby, hunk sandwich on action bun
One gold coin might buy you a drink
John Wick 2 a Titanic that won’t sink

Chorus:

John Wick, get up get down, everybody dance
Chapter 2 homie just give it a chance
Action packed no need to skip it
Take your sweetie to the movies, get a ticket ask guy to rip it

I’d give this movie 11 “loaded guns” out of 13 “but I thought we don’t support guns”. I’d recommend it to anyone who needs to hide somewhere for two hours.

nm1cnoc

 

Video Advent Calendar

After last year’s successful 25 songs in 25 days special Advent Calendar 2015, I’m back in 2016 with a video Advent calendar that will blow your bows off. Let’s do it!

Check back each day and you’ll be treated to a new treat as new videos get added to the playlist, or go back if you’ve missed one–there’s no right or wrong way of doing it. Unless you don’t do it at all. That’s wrong. Thanks, GLenn

My Swear Jar & My Prayer Jar

I can’t blame you for imagining every surface of my home being taken up with olives and gems. While I certainly dedicate a large portion of my counter tops, floors, and shelves to all things brine and shine, I do make plenty of room for the goblet of serfdom–the humble jar.

It’s my philosophy that any combination of jars in the home should feed off each other like a celery garden at the foot of a waterfall that eats celery. Of course my most famous jar combo–the one that earned me Jar Star ’03–is my Swear Jar and Prayer Jar. I’m frequently asked at banquets how I manage my jars and as a strong believer of free information and sharing of resources I’m happy to oblige this once, if not to prove I’m a worthy recipient of a Lifetime Achievement Jar’ward at this year’s fete.

⇒ Swear Jar ⇐

My swear jar is different than the more common, profit-based models that take money out of the crumb-infested pockets of foulmouthed youth and into the mint-addled purses of the parenthood. My Swear Jar contains innovative new swears that I hope will add a bit of “oomph” to our language, and thus our art.

It’s very straightforward, but to give you a more inside look here is what was in my swear jar the week a big dog bit me:

swearblog

♣ Prayer Jar ♣

A prayer jar is a file system meant to keep track of one’s demands toward whatever God they constantly seek the autograph of. I find these jars an excellent opportunity to try out some of the new swear words from the swear jar. Here’s what you would’ve found in my prayer jar that week.

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Lost Wallet

It’s Halloween and I should be fearing things like worms and poison, but instead I’m completely frIgHtenTend of losing my wallet, the brown bill buddy that contains my most important inanimate elements (except my jock strap, eh boys?).

On a normal day–one of those 1.5 poos, 3 meals, watch the trailer for John Candy’s Delirious again kinda days–you don’t even notice you have a wallet because it’s always there, like the prevalent hope that gravity will be dethroned as the force that dominates our physical world. Another example would be how you never stop and think that your face is technically all zits until one actually wriggles its way to the surface seeking the light of the moon.

I’ve been made more aware of my wally because last week I lost it for six hours, and in that six hours I couldn’t even think straight let alone follow through on a dare I was issued, which was to shoot a ham like a basketball into the CEO’s office toilet screaming out “PAY DAY, SON”.

Now that we’ve established today’s theme it’s time for…

Punditry

Cue music…

Cue smoke…

giphy

Cue dust…

giphy-1Hey, that’s not real dust

giphy-2

that’s better.

What was that other stuff?

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…Baby powder!

fresh. Go for pundits.

Cue Jett

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Evolution has failed us when it comes to the wallet. Why have our hips not developed credit card-sized slots in which to store wallet stuff like credit card-sized credit cards, identification and vintage soup can labels?

Cue Paun

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Frankly I think we’re more due to evolve socks–a homegrown human wool would be great, feathers even better. Can you imagine how much less laundry we’d have to do? Anyway, I feel the pertinent issue is that the fat cats who run big money have made keeping our wallets near or below our equators the norm. It leaves our cash and cute little notes to ourselves susceptible to thieves and fairly tall dogs. In response I’ve begun taping my wallet to my neck.

Cue Geera

Why is that our bank cards contain more computer technology than our wallets? At its core a wallet is simply the part of the cow that doesn’t taste good and yet it houses the stuff that buys the cow? Sorry, wait, not sure that’s relevant.

Back to you, Grant!

Modern Paradoxes

Now that we in the First World have hit “Peak HD”, we can no longer rely on crystal clear images to blow our minds. It’s this sailor’s opinion that we must look back upon the brain blasters of old to reignite our imaginations, ensuring we’ll never been short of ideas for Pixar movies.

Looking past the amazing properties of yeast, and snakes getting boners, I’d like to table a re-ignition of paradoxes that once dazzled the olive-soaked, unexposed-to-canned-chili brains of robe-clad youths in Ancient Greece.  Here are two modern examples suitable for transcription into your next yearbook quote.

The Bourne ΡΛΓΛÐ⊗Χ

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It’s the fourth of July and you throw a party called “Bourne On The Fourth Of July” where you watch Jason Bourne movies on the fourth of July, but you also want to celebrate the “Bourne On The Fourth Of July” celebration by watching “Born On The Fourth Of July” on the fourth of July during “Bourne On The Fourth Of July”, while also honouring the fourth of July.

The Soil ΡΛΓΛÐ⊗χ

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The verb “soil” means to “make unclean”, and is often used in regards to human piss, thus to “soil” something could refer to “pissing” something, notably pants or underpants.

The noun “soil” is the brown crumbles that cover our planet and help plants grow. Many plants grow above the surface of the soil, thus soil could be referred to as “underplants”, a colloquial term that makes reference to human underpants.

If I were to say “I pissed my underplants” that would mean I’m watering my plants, but if I were to say “I soiled my underplants” I could mean I watered my plants but ALSO I added my soil to an existing mass of soil.

Fascinating.

TLDR: Soil is dirt and to piss, underplants is soil, soil the underplants, piss the soil

CONCLUSION

I’m not sure I know what a “paradox” actually is but at least I’m contributing to the Internet and not lookin’ at it like you.

I Miss The Lord of the Rings

Ever since the last LOTR movie disappeared from the big screens of regions across the crust, the only way I’ve been able to re-capture feelings of action and adventure is by doing barrel rolls in the turnip patch next to the motorcycle repair shop.

“You’ll always have the books, Glenn,” whispered Gandalf, removing his hat and lowering himself atop the tiny oak toilet in Bag End, signalling the end of another long quest.

THE END

I know that, but whenever I read I always imagine my male protagonist having the face of Judge Reinhold and the talent of Joe Montana. Granted, that just about equals Viggo Mortensen but it’s not all the way there, and he’s the ONLY sword swinger I want to picture prancing the prairies when I’m paying my respects to the Lord.

Isn’t it weird that books can last forever but movies have a shelf life similar to that of a line of cheeses that have different shelf lives depending on what level you purchase? Cracker Barrel C1, Cracker Barrel C2, Cracker Barrel C3…, each one would have different strengths and weaknesses in terms of flavour and shredibility like the asexual characters of the Mario Kart universe.

This has been your introduction to CHEESE & WHINE & WINE… now onto the main event:

CHEESE & WHINE & WINE 

Today I’m grating some whine into a glass of “Penis Gnar”, the latest unconventional pinot noir from those rebellious vintners at Statutory Grape Estates.

The whine I’m pouring is “Politics”, which I’m only plopping on so there’s record of my opinion on the matter should I win the raffle that explodes all my personal electronic devices in exchange for unlimited touching at the world’s best museums.

POLITICS

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If my carefully curated social media channels are to be believed, Donald Trunp is a tit honkin’ fuck face who hates everyone except his family, whiteys with thick wallets, and women who aren’t regular. If he truly is that bad, wouldn’t he have eaten somebody by now? Does this mean I need more varied friends? I like to think I’ve got a gaggle of great grownups geared toward good gravy, goofy gigs, and green gags but do I ever learn anything? Of course I do, I love all those guys. If I’m going to try new things it’s not going to be friends; my thing fling will be with new types of noodles and a deeper understanding of Photoshop’s lasso tool.

That’s it, I’m done! I packed roughly three features into one important post. By doing so I’m now qualified to enter the Burger King Blog King Derby where the winner receives a custom 3D printed straw relative to the size of their lips, and keys to their local BK. Honestly, all I want are the keys themselves because they’re made from a tooth of the only known dolphin with an overbite, and that sort of thing makes for good stories if you’re like me and don’t know how to talk casually to your dentist.

Tear Tiers

teartier

Tier 1 – Tiny Tears

Low sodium trickle capable of hydrating small mammalia with low intelligence; inconsistent intervals not ideal for timing board game turns.

Common Instigation: A guest sauced your last roll of toilet paper.


Tier 2 – Low-Level Tier 3 Tears

Brine-rich droplets; shape comparable to rain forest dew formed on back of juvenile log hogs; average viscosity; known colloquially as ‘prismatic blue berries’.

Common Instigation: Your group learns the hieroglyph for “stooge” looks a lot like your right sideburn.


Tier 3 – Salt Sob

High emission duct spawn capable of travelling long distances; anthropologists dubbed them ‘pop tears’ as they are depicted in famous works of art, and Portuguese food labels.

Common Instigation: The DJ called you a “sack” on air after you requested a song you swore your dog loves.


Tier 4 – Fear Tears

Autonomous cheek eroders with ocean-like cellular structure ideal for the growth of single cell organisms and training surfers to feel more at home.

Common Instigation: Someone ran an Austin 3:16 shirt up your flagpole on Remembrance Day


Tier 5 – Mom’s Dead

Nutrient-rich lip food of the geyser genus; Shakespeare lived off his own Tier 5’s while penning King Lear, thus the appellation, ‘Bard’s Buffet’.

Common Instigation: Mom’s dead


Tier 6 – Tearing At Your Soul Tears

From Plato’s ‘Republic’:

“Tears tear through time tickling all trace of face, wring robes to make sea…”

In modern literature: ‘The old homemade soy sauce’

Common Instigation: Dad killed mom

 

Friday Flip Sides

As a personal website that prides herself on transparency, we feel it’s prudent to disclose that the following content has arisen out of demands from shareholders who were displeased with our Q3 results. They’d prefer we move toward an editorial model that encourages social sharing, which we’ve agreed upon and will make an effort to strive toward with every exclamation point we tap. By no means will this affect our core value of “Go Fuckin’ Bonkers Or Ski Home With A Snake Tied Around Your Neck”, and are hopeful this slightly new direction will allow us to broaden our audience to beyond mustard lovers.

The following is the first in a series of blogs to be released every Friday, right when your mind starts drifting away from spreadsheets and emails, and toward dead meats and females, eh fellas? Mmm boy. Gather your family around the computer and throw your dog in the closet, it’s time for the first ever edition of FRIDAY FLIP SIDES.

On Friday there’s a palpable buzz in the air…

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…But on the flip side, you’ll probably never know what a lion tastes like, and you certainly won’t ever experience a lion gravy.

On Friday the promise of a full weekend is in your grasp…

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…But on the flip side, there’s no emoji to let people know the cancer has spread.

On Friday night you can go to bed as late as you want…

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…But on the flip side, if your penis is small enough to fit up a nostril, you’ll probably never get married.

Friday is pay day!

Payday-Loans

…But on the flip side, if good aliens come, George Clooney will probably make friends with them first; they’ll stay at his Italian lake house and no one else will get to try their serums and mind melds.

On Friday, the city streets swell with fun-seeking youth…

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…But on the flip side, you can’t control the guest list at your own funeral unless it’s part of your will, but if it takes awhile for you to die you’ll have to update it often because friends come and go. Your lawyer will get annoyed and claim a funeral guest list is unprecedented, and you’ll end up wasting much of the money you were supposed to leave to your family on lawyer fees. The lawyer will use the money to purchase ozone-damaging petroleum for his or her luxury vehicle just because you want to make sure your sister doesn’t invite cousin Shane to a party in your honour that you won’t even be alive for.

 

Movie Review — Ghostbusters

The Ghostbusters don’t have dicks anymore because the new Ghostbusters are 100% women. Their new adventure begins, middles and ends much like the adventures of their tit-loving 80s counterparts: The Ghostbusters notice there are ghosts around; they bust; people think they’re bullshit; bigger ghosts come; they bust; people believe them. They carry the same brand of laser, hate slime, and are pretty horny just like the first Ghostbusters, so there’s lots to like and plenty of fresh spooks and camera angles to keep you and your master happy.

Any movie about ghosts is going to have an aura of fear surrounding it, and this major project is no different. For instance, the makers were so scared that people would get pissed that the old Ghostbusters aren’t the new Ghostbusters that they haunted new movie with the old Ghostbusters to make you go “A ha!”, and your dad go, “Thank goodness 80% of them are alive”. These appearances don’t make the movie any better, and quite frankly I would’ve enjoyed seeing more of today’s hottest comedy stars in their stead–male, female, grandpa, whatever, just give me a movie that doesn’t remind me that I’m so dumb for watching a movie that’s already been made.

No-dogs

Horn dogs will be disappointed to know that the new Ghostbusters wear comfortable, work-appropriate  jumpsuits, with nary a bra strap flashed. Don’t worry you Mountain Dewds because this baby still looked great with primary-coloured ghosts, a big car with real lights, and New York City being its rude rude self.

One of the only men in this was Chris Hemsworth who you know as exotic fighter Thor from the Spiderman movies. They wrote him as an idiot, which made for big laughs because even though the reasonable part of the world treats races and genders the same, we’ll all still willing to laugh at a fuckin moron all day long.

I don’t know about you, but I like my summer crammed with pineapple flavour, weekly dips, no snakes, and plenty of fresh movies to keep my summer mind off the bads, and on the rads. If the world is a refrigerator then this movie is a carbonated, artisan blend of tropical fruits, but it’s still made by Pepsi, you know? I’d give this movie seven who cares it’s just a movie out of 10 watch it but don’t think about it and would recommend it to anyone who doesn’t have air conditioning seeking respite.