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Letters from idiots

We had our interns steal some mail and hack some email accounts to bring you this week’s edition of Letters from idiots, the viral sensation that’s in development as a sitcom starring Tony Hale as “Guy who isn’t idiot”. Please share and if you find one of your letters here, don’t bother us, we checked and none of this is illegal unless you’re able to identify the specific thief (all our interns wear pillow cases on their heads hehehe).

Bill,

I made a reservation at that vegan restaurant. Don’t worry they do have fries lol

– Diana


What’s up Ian?

Remember yesterday when you told me that story about your dog liking peanut butter but not jam? We should turn that into a Twitter feed. I can start it but I’d love if you could help too (it is your dog after all). I know some guys with over 2k followers so it wouldn’t that hard to get it off the ground.

Hit. Me. Up.
Bear


Hey Max,

Finally got your treble clef joke from yesterday and you’re right, it does kinda look like a pregnant chick with one ball.

Love, Uncle Pete


Hey Craig, I can’t come to your party because I have like, a million things to do this week and I haven’t updated my linkedin since June. So sorry, and I hope it all goes well, i know how hard it can be planning a funeral.

LIVE. LOVE. RESPECT.

– Kerry


Andrew,

Please, please PLEASE show me how to download movies.

From Jason


Dear Mrs. White

I know you like to keep it fair by letting every student take the mouse home at least once during the school year, but not every home has the soft carpets and unlimited seeds (Jacklyn’s father works for Albright Seed) that our home has. Jacklyn loves Manny more than the other children do, I can tell. She has authored several stories called the Adventures of Manny Mouse and Jacklyn. Myself and Jackyln’s father are going to send the stories to a publishing house and get a book done so you won’t want to be on our bad side once she’s on TV and a superstar. You’re a toad.

Regards,
Jacklyn’s mother, Jackie



Hey nancy,

God did not create the zebra as means of attracting male humans to the ‘sweet spots’ of human females via panty. Call me when you buy the flesh-coloured kind.


Greetings Dave!

Heads up, we’ll be bringing our own ice cream cones because the ones at the fair likely have wheat in them. The ice cream is fine, no wheat there, but the cones we can’t be sure. Stu and I make our own at home using rice paste and gelatin. We’ll bring extra just in case.

Oliver


Hi Ruby

The cut has almost completely healed, thanks for asking. I re-filled the first aid kit and it’s better than ever. I replaced the bandages with some homemade ones I tore off Darryl’s old work shirts and I added a copy of Chicken Soup for the Salesman’s Soul, some Frog Balm from Cape Cod and six thumbtacks because I can never find any when I need them.

– Sally


Yo man,

It’s so weird that Michael Jackson is dead and still releasing albums, eh? Makes you wonder who really owns our graveyards. Next thing you know, my great grandpa will be directing transformers. Wanna go swimming tomorrow?

– Jake



Hi Nick,

How much did it cost to get your mole removed? I want to get a tattoo but I need to know how much it’ll cost to get erased if I end up hating it. I think I’m going to get the recycling symbol in that camouflage style.

– Darla


Big thanks to all the interns who made this edition of Letters from idiots possible. Below is a picture of the team from last year’s Christmas party at Belinda’s mom’s house. Most of them will be moving on at the end of the month so anyone interested in joining us next quarter should take some time to read the guidelines prior to submitting an application. 

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Movie review – Guardians of the Galaxy

Guardians of the Galaxy is a new movie that has so many aliens and spaceships that you’ll never need to go to the planetarium ever again.

There’s one guy who’s not an alien and that’s human Peter Quill, who calls himself Star Lord, that has more to do with being in space and not being a literal lord because he’s way too goofy to have that kind of authority. He’s played by TV star Chris Pratt who had to lose weight in order to jump all over the place and roll around.

The Star lord gets together with a tree, a raccoon, a volcano man and a green alien to fight against some bald guy who wants an orb that star lord found. That was a bit vague, sorry, there are a lot of bald aliens in this movie. The one I’m talking about is blue and dresses like a Japanese Sphinx. Star Lord’s team doesn’t get along at first but then do because they realize they don’t have any other friends and because it’s way more interesting that way. There’s another plot where star lord misses his dead mom even though the space technology in the movie could probably make him a new one. That part was stupid.

A man can dream

A man can dream

The special effects were great in this movie, creating a version of outer space that’s full of aliens who only speak English and dress like they’re in the opening scene of Bill and Ted part 2. One ticket to that space please! All the ships that the guys drew on their computers for the movie looked really cool and the makeup they used on all the aliens created skin colours and textures that are simply out of this world.

Guardians of the Galaxy was a fun ride and I wouldn’t mind them guarding our galaxy (the milker) as long as they don’t mess around. I hope that in the sequel the tree and raccoon get to go to Earth because I’d love to see what they think of our outdoors.

I ate popcorn, drank a diet cherry coke and some Starburst minis that weren’t as good as Starburst regulars. I shared all snacks with my brother. I’d give this movie a “go see it, you’re bored, right?” and recommend seeing it at night so when you leave the theatre you can keep watching space for free. The best kind of date to bring to this movie would be someone who is easily scared or some dork who hasn’t seen it yet because they were on vacation when it came out.

The dog day of summer

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It was early September, not hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk but hot enough to heat up leftover eggs on the sidewalk. I was knelt down, filling a juice jug with water from the sprinkler, a ritual I had been performing all summer in order to make my summer certified lemonade that was selling like photos of nude women to the recently pubic. To complete the full experience I presented the drink to customers not in glasses but rather hollowed out eggshells I painted red stitches on to look like baseballs in keeping with the summer theme. If it seems like I got eggs on the brain it’s because I was born around breakfast. Anyway, if you want to read about my lemonade, pick up a copy of Business Week, this story is about dogs.

As I was kneeling there I caught the scent of dog and my eyes immediately darted down toward my belt.  When I had buckled it twenty minutes earlier, I thought I might regret wearing the one made of  beef jerky but my leather belt was currently being used by my wife to measure how many of my waists could fit into the basement in case the cloning project got funding.

Before I knew it I was surrounded by at least 25 dogs of various breeds, some with collars, some without, some barking, some sniffing, all staring at me, mouths agape and hungry for preserved meat. I decided to test their focus by casually walking up the block toward the failed Asian fusion restaurant that had only succeeded in fusing the parts of the brain that detect bad value and mediocre noodles. Sure enough, the dogs were on my tail, snout first, their own tails happily flapping away as if fanning butterflies away from a pile of raisins. They weren’t necessarily aggressive but I didn’t like how all of them were so interested in me, a creature who didn’t speak the same language or even like the same type of girls as them.

I decided not to run because I didn’t want to provoke the dogs and have them start running themselves. To me, a dog running is like a bee stinging only a dog doesn’t die after it runs unless it’s old and has a bad heart, or if it runs into a bee and it’s allergic to bees. I made a mental note to call my next band Dog Heart and continued at a brisk pace toward the graveyard where I figured the smell of bones would distract them enough to lose them. If not, at least I’d be able to finally check out that cemetery I’d never been to.

I was sweating cats and dogs and could sense the dogs reacting to my new smell like a cat reacting to a sweaty dog, so I did a quick barrel roll and left a sweat stain on the sidewalk that actually kind of looked like a dog–I’m not sure though, it was a quick glance and I might have just caught the shadow of one of the dogs. I walked 16 steps (I know the exact number because I had already decided I wanted to tell the story and needed some cold, hard facts) and gathered enough courage to look back where I saw the mutts licking at pavement, just as I had intended. I ducked into a pet store and waited until the coast was clear. Before leaving I left my belt in an iguana tank and that iguana eventually went on to star in over thirty children’s stories written by this slow kid who lived above the pet store.

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?”

KooltheGang2

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

KooltheGang1

“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:

party flyer

 

Zoodles: The Motion Picture (2014)

zoodles

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”

people

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:

macaulay

“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!”