Category Archives: Uncategorized

Movie Review — Captain America: Civil War

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The tits and fists of Marvel’s finest are on full display in the latest comic book to huge screen transfer, in a movie we’re all forced to call, Captain America: Civil War. This heavyweight’s got everything you love, from tailored black leather jackets and vests zipped halfway up, to black cotton jackets zipped half way up. It’s all bound together by out of this world action and special FX from Hollywood’s most expensive computers.

I’ll give you two guesses what this story is about… did you guess “trouble”? Trouble seems to follow these super stars wherever they go. This time around a really smart guy without any control over lightning or water named Zemo decides to split the team apart by totally outsmarting them. This is one of those nouveau bad boys who starts the movie as a “who is this guy?” then is slowly revealed as a “someone who’s pissed about something that happened before”.

Because of this guy’s bad brain, the Avengers gotta choose between fighting alongside half man/half car Iron Man, or U.S. citizen and accomplished globetrotter, Captain America. Once the teams are evenly distributed so that no one cries, they all go at it  with thousands of hard but safe punches and whatever magic Santa brought them for puberty. This raises the question, “who are the bad guys?” but is easily answered by “he who wishes to explode something”. Since none of the following are eager to destroy more skyscrapers than is necessary when fighting a huge creature, they’re still good even if they scowl more than usual.

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Iron Man’s team has a couple aliens, cat woman and his buddy who always copies him.

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Captain America signed up Robin Hood, A Falcon, Mrs. Boring, his best friend who totally rocks even though his brain is screwed, and Paul Rudd

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Heheheh is this Batman??? No way. 

Throughout this thing I couldn’t help but think of how comfortable the Avengers are at their compound where Tony Stark has provided them with unlimited furniture, leather jackets, and a screen next to every toilet.

I’d give this movie seven Marvel movies out of ten Disney Universes, and would recommend it to any shut-ins who want something bright but can’t do the sun.

420 Snak Pak 2016 — Yuppie Edition

Using marijuana for relaxation and bettering of Disney movies is more widespread than ever. Not only are teenagers of divorced parents getting stoned, but all peoples across all income levels. In the past we’ve provided weed’s core audience with a visceral 4/20 experience, but this year we’d like to toss a treat toward the wealthier red eyes who may be new to the trip that sees no class. Please enjoy this Snak Pak, Yuppie Edition:

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Suck in the joke smoke or start a vapour caper, press ‘play’ on your brain and let the universe reign. Take the wave valet to the shade chalet. Let’s begin. 

There are rarer tones that you have the means to afford but today we are one and the notes are in bulk. Which clef would you prefer? Allow the numbers to decide for they are the only true source ©

Q2

Reflection is as truthful as chemistry when both feet are crystal deep. Ponder your mirror with these ancient postulates:

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…You are on the scale of the universe but your mass is insignificant in the web of infinite vortexes.

Your money has no value in the stars… but if the coin is not the Holy one then what place does it have in this dimension we call “now”?

Your clean suits and shimmery body gloves are masks crafted by the vanity of evolution’s children. Which elders CAN you trust? A smile will guide you toward the natural leader.

Q3

Expel the five whims. Expel the five whims. Expel the five wh—–ims.

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You are the only traveller you need. You are the road. The destination lies not in the form but in the question. Heed the signs, believe the limits.

Q4

What of the fuel?

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You ingest what you believe is superior but how can there exist a hierarchy when the molecules of being are not the ones who are begging?

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Every question can be asked in new modes but some are more dynamic than others. Let us bow and pretend.

Is sleep also the cousin of bloopers?
Would you sacrifice your eyes to rid yourself of ‘up’ and ‘down’?
Where does hair end and brain begin?
If there’s something in nothing then is nothing some thing?
Would a diaper benefit or hinder a hibernating bear?
What if Stonehenge represents the three meals?

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“My thinking is de-railed and I’m tied up to the tracks, on the Train Of Consequences there ain’t no turning back”
– D. Mustaine

* Credit to http://fruitsoftheweb.tumblr.com/ for some gifs I lifted. Others I googd. Thank you!

34th birthday

It’s my birthday today, and unless I get unlimited attention I’ll fall into a temporary depression that could severely effect the light and funky tone of my emails.

I don’t ask you for much so please don’t sneer at the following list of demands I have of you on my special day. I would recommend someone start up a Google doc that tracks who’s doing what because I don’t want any repeats. Last year’s request of “peace and quiet” got so out of hand that someone melted my CDs, and every dog in my neighbourhood got killed.

Forward me my horoscope

"How do you spell 'bodacious' again?"

“How do you spell ‘bodacious’ again?”

In my 34 years I’ve never read a horoscope that has influenced me negatively enough to quit my job or take one of those online courses on how to kiss properly. I know they’re not written by real magicians but that doesn’t stop me from interpreting each as a message from a plane of existence that knows way more about me than the shower head I use as a microphone for the fake podcast I do in my shower every morning.

For some reason birthdays are to horoscopes as bras full of chocolate coins are to birthdays, so please make my day special by forwarding me as many as you can find. I’m an Aries, and if there’s anything us rams love more than chewing our cud after scarfing some gnarly grass, it’s light existentialism.

Get personal

"New paragraph.

“After you’re done writing my will you can wash my hair”

Gifts are great but I got enough possessions to create another Glenn and give him a pretty decent head start in life. I’d prefer you tell me how much I mean to you, not because I’m a narcissist but because I could use the tears. I used to expel as much energy trying not to cry as I did giving up the hope that karate would come to me naturally. But now life has beaten me down so hard that a chance to shed a few is as rare as popping a surprise boner that would help remind me that life is still full of possibilities.

Ask me anything

"So Nick, tell me, have you ever drowned a goose?"

“So Nick, tell me, have you ever drowned a goose?”

By now I’ve had enough life experience that I know quite a lot, from how to sear a steak, to how to sear a skin-on chicken breast. By asking me questions you gain access to my impressive vault of knowledge, and I get to pretend you’re interviewing my for BIG GUYS magazine’s Steers Of The Year issue.

As per the previous request, I highly encourage you to ask personal questions because people take you more seriously when they think you’re nuts. For example, did you know I had a special Swiss Army knife made that has a popsicle stick with my favourite quote from Pulp Fiction burned into it, instead of the little saw?

Put yourself in my shoes for once

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Just because I’m known as a positive smiler doesn’t mean I was born with bubblegum in my brain. My general mission is to make those around me as comfortable as possible all the time, which can get exhausting and probably explains why I’m such a demon during downtime (I yell at books if they’re not scary enough). Maybe if you felt pure Glenn coursing through your veins you’d hesitate before asking me to stay up really late.

The only way to truly become me would be through a very costly blood transfusion or VR avatar, so we’d best rely on the budget version which is to hang out and play truth or dare.

See you on the playground!

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A better dog

Man’s best friend is becoming a touch outdated. Nowadays, dogs are mainly symbols of wealth, and many major breeds have become overly docile, their unique personalities eroded by years of pampering–they smell bad too. Here’s what I’d love to see in a new era of dog:

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Questrants

There’s a new trend in restaurant concepts gaining popularity across all nine continents, a concept industry insiders have dubbed, Questrants.

These establishments offer unique dining experiences by forcing customers to “quest” for their meal, adding thrills, chills and sometimes death to an array of culinary delights.

Here are some of the most popular:

cockpitYour meal begins in the tape-covered seat of a vintage de Havilland float plane piloted by a drunken ex-Navy Seal who talks to the craft like one would an ex-lover.

It’s your job to keep him awake long enough to land safely at a hidden outpost along the slopes of Crocodile Mountain, where you’ll be able to re-supply and place your order from a menu of Nepalese favourites and American classics (think burgers and dogs).

Back onboard you’ll find yourself alone, as your pilot will have disappeared into a nearby village where his tribal mistress resides. Take the controls and dogfight your way through a barrage of enemy aircraft until ejecting over the Kai Hyung Plains where your food will be waiting, hot and ready, on a table made of bones.

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Natural beauty gives way to hidden dangers as you dine in one of the most unforgiving climates on Earth.

The danger is real but the food is exceptional–try the Bog Hen sous vide in the natural humidity of the jungle, or a risotto cooked in the microbial-rich waters of the Amazon river.

While nine out of nine diners would recommend the food from head chef, Mana of the Watu people, eight out nine customers go home with an infection, diarrhoea or a venomous creature burrowed into their skin.

cypherOne lucky member of each dining party is selected upon arrival and tasked with rescuing remaining members from armed terrorists.

The bulk of your party will be blindfold and treated as hostages inside a 10×10 concrete room at an undisclosed location. They’ll be lightly tortured and served an array of food utilizing the latest in molecular gastronomy: “Piss” that’s actually a fresh squeezed yuzu lemonade with coconut “piss foam”, “Mouldy Bread” made from an artisanal blue cheese and real San Francisco sour dough, and “Dog Meat”, a Wagyu rib eye topped with a red wine reduction to simulate the loose blood one would find on rare mutt steak common to conflict zones.

Meanwhile, the hero of your party will be provided a mission dossier, forged documents and a box of condoms to aid them in rescuing the hostages. Each stage of the mission will include an amuse-bouche, as well as an attractive companion who may or may not be working for the enemy.

The final course will be served on the observation deck of the Burj Khalifa tower so long as everyone survives the final showdown.

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An area of Manitoba’s densest boreal forest is stocked with farm-raised game among rare wild mushrooms and an variety of woodland berries.

Check in with your hostess (reserve early to avoid long queues that often stretch into wolf territory) who will fill you in on what’s available that day and allow you to select knife or gun. The dress code? Nudity! You will be stripped down to nothing and sent into the wild to hunt, kill and skin your meal.

Bring the carcass to one of their world class chefs who will prepare it grilled, baked, or deep fried and fashion a new coat or cap out of the pelt as you wait.

foodriverSelections of fresh seafood and tasty sides are carefully loaded into the rucksacks of your servers: Armed aqua raiders who set out downriver atop modified Sea Doos.

Upon entry, each patron is assigned a Thai long-tail boat, a selection of spears, a suicide pill, and a hand drawn glossary describing each raider and the different foods each has in their possession. Overtake your selected raider using cunning and skill, collect your bounty and enjoy your meal on the muddy banks.

 

Movie review — The Witch

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The Witch is about a REALLY dumb family who moves away from a fairly crappy New England village full of fellow British immigrants to a dirty old field next to the scariest and wettest woods in the world. The reason? Something to do with God, I don’t know, I couldn’t understand a damn thing anyone was saying.

God is as big a part of this movie as wet wood and witches are. I learned that if you move to an isolated field in the 1600s, God becomes your neighbour, friend, enemy, boss, witch-repellent, TV, song inspiration, dinner conversation, you name it, God’s it. This family doesn’t go two seconds without thinking about God, which I guess makes sense if you 100% believe there’s a guy in the sky who can kill you at any second.

Ralph Ineson as "dad"

Ralph Ineson as “dad”

God certainly didn’t tell them that the dark, wet, cold place they decided to move would be a witch’s paradise, but they should’ve known since it’s not as if witches dig the beach. They get what they bargained for because an old witch steals one of the family’s babies then pulls all these tricks to make them go crazy. There’s also a pretty cool ram named Black Philip who steals every scene (and a few souls hehehe).

While I was watching The Witch I started fantasizing about travelling back in time and wowing the characters with modern knowledge and technology as I always do when watching period pieces. In this fantasy I ride up to their really shitty house on what you and I would deem a crummy mountain bike, only to them it’s the fuckin’ craziest thing they ever saw.

Once I make them shut up about the bike I ask them to explain why they’re so bummed. I get a bit scared of this witch shit but seeing how bonkers they went for the mountain bike, I tighten my scarf and fearlessly waltz into the woods armed with nothing more than the flash light I have in my backpack.

I spot the witch and BAM, flash light into her eyes .

“What kind of witchcraft is this,” she screams, “Dost though control the sun”?

“It’s a Coleman, 5.99 at Home Hardware,” I cockily exclaim.

She gives in to my “magic”, appoints me head witch and next thing you know I’m partying nude with a coven who can’t get enough of the duct tape I also brought along.

Two weeks in the woods and I’m like, “Aw shit I forgot about those British immigrants,” then I go back to the homestead where they’re like, “We have n’aint layeth eyes uponst the witch since the eleventeen star, wherest doth thee been?” I  casually explain what’s up and that the witches will chill as long as the family doesn’t have any more babies because witches are attracted to fresh flesh like Harvey Levin is to a hot scoop. I’d leave them wondering who Harvey Levin is then bike back to the witches and party until my Time Gauntlet signals the end of the journey.

I give The Witch, More Goats Please Out Of 10 and would recommend it to anyone who is considering of moving off the grid.

Freaks of the week

Sometimes I need something other than a pair of Levi’s to make me feel normal so every week I print out images of our nation’s freaks and pin them to the back of my scarf closet as a reminder that I’m on-brand, human-wise. It may be fruitless to try to define “normal” but the X-Files gotta get their ideas from somewhere, right?

So far it’s worked out pretty well so I’d like to share this week’s findings in case any of you need a pick me up, OR you happen to be a dollar-bill-flickin’ investor looking for the latest self-help craze.

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Ben “Toes” Inglestep of Victoria, B.C.

I get it, weirdo–you got nice crow’s feet. Anyone with the social ineptitude to flash such enviable canyons when there’s legions of us still waiting for ours to fully form oughta be destroyed. Put a bra on those things, dude!

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Denise Hallford of Halifax, Nova Scotia

What kind of a monster puts so much effort into hiding their shoulders? The hair, the tunic, the lighting–loosen up, it’s the 2000’s! I love a smooth, sexy, sculpted shoulder as much as the next man but give me a little credit lady, I won’t stare longer than is necessary for me to bank the image to sketch in my Girl Journal later on.

Smile

Toby Pister of Markham, Ontario

This is a freak who’s already learned the power of a hungry smile but I’m not falling for it. As much as I’d love to feed you dinner while your parents aren’t looking, I’m CERTAIN that you’re baiting me into getting into a fist fight with your dad. If I’m going to sneak spoonfuls to anyone I’ll stick to my nephews and nieces like a normal person, thanks.

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Lucy St. Gregory of Mississauga, Ontario

If makes me fucking sick when a woman looks at me as if I’m going suddenly beg to become her son.

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Max Laurent of Shawinigan, Quebec

Nice shirt, buddy–I know that neckline is a pathetic attempt to get me to imagine your head mounted on a wall but it ain’t workin’ because I stopped getting off on that once my braces came off and my zits dried up.

Glenn Power Rankings – January 2016

This is your opportunity to see what’s up and what’s down in the life of the butter boy himself, Glenn. It’s time for…

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1. Ignoring Exhaustion 
Last month – #36

A touch of insomnia and a head full of “oh man’s” brought Glenn belt-to-belt with that bald bitch himself, Exhaustion, in January. He used to face this threat by pupating but now he only gently whines and attempts to push it into the pit using a Spotify playlist full of energy-laden jock jams. If you see him sleepy-eyed, fear not! He is now trained to ignore Exhaustion’s lullaby (a pretty rippin’ blues number featuring Ronnie Wood on pedal steel).

2. Plowin’ Through Groceries
Last month – #12

“Value” is a land mammal’s version of the sea’s unlimited bubbles, and nothing says “value” like making use of all the food (eaten or smeared) you bought from the store. Due to a decrease in “Fear Meals Won’t Taste Good” (last month’s #49), Glenn’s groceries are flying out the fridge and into one of the many pans he’s accumulated over the years thanks to miscommunication between loved ones when it comes to gift ideas.

3. Small glasses of milk
Last month – #98

By re-discovering a perfectly sized Ghostbusters 2 juice glass that can be filled to the brim without costing him the carton, coupled with a re-engagement with the guilt-free quench that a cool glass of skim provides, Glenn is back sippin’ cow tea before bed.

4. Being patient with video games
Last month – #22

As a gift to himself and any screen bean who happens to visit his armoured headquarters, Glenn bought a next generation video game console sometime around the turn of December. With so many plastic PMs invested in this venture he’s been forced to put more effort into playtime and not get frustrated when the boy on the screen doesn’t do what the man stroking the buttons is demanding.

6. Timing showers
Last month – #2

Glenn quit the hockey team last year and while it’s given him time chew on a few puzzles, his active life has suffered. In January he took a squish at squash, which, combined with his summer slams on the tennis trail has completed the move away from team-based stick sports to individual racquet slams. Since many squash meets happen midday at a nearby gym, Glenn’s been forced to adjust his morning shower schedule so as not overdo the shampoo. It’s been a rocky road but we fully expect the timing of showers to shoot back up the rankings next month.

6. Not eating chicken
Last month – #7

It’s was hard for Glenn to reach for a commercial flesh that wasn’t bird this January. Experts suggest this is the result of a surging ignorance of the tit and a committed embrace of thigh and leg, body parts that have kept Glenn on budget and on flavour.

7. Tripping over lamps
Last month – #1

Glenn tripped over zero lamps in 2o15 according to data mined from his Apple Jeans and yet here he is, lips deep into Janny with two trips on the charts. Both instances yielded disastrous bulb replacements, which raised questions such as “Do we have light bulbs?”, “Where are the light bulbs?” and “Can you recycle light bulbs?”

Premium members get access to the full 407 point list and bonus monthly gifts. This February, glennmacaulay.com is offering members a complete illustrated history of deodorant brand loyalty, starting at puberty with the fabled Right Guard epoch, leading up the current Old Spice revolution. 

Phighting Kingdom Theme

I was looking through my old CDs in my parent’s basement’s garage and I came upon the old Phighting Kingdom soundtrack. Remember that game? It was the really violent one where you could eat other characters’ children after you killed them. Anyway, I forgot they made this techno theme song to lead off the CD and it brought back such fond memories that I uploaded it to YouTube:

Wednesday “What If?”

 

WHAT IF I were an international remix DJ?

My name would be DJ John Leno and when the world’s top booker asks me, “What’s with the name, beat man?”, I’ll hand them my business card:

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But WHAT IF the booker looks at it then says, “I get it, but why not ‘DJ Jay Lennon?'”?

I’d give them a crooked look and explain that phonetically, it doesn’t sound as smooth, and since my business is sound I needed something that really hums.

WHAT IF the booker then says, “Sorry, my childhood best friend’s name was John Leno so that’s why I’m sensitive”?

I’d lay a hand softly on their shoulder and explain how we’re all reminded of lost love ones at various points in our lives. The key is to not dwell on it, or to have the foresight to avoid it altogether. For example, I met a gorgeous woman named Hanna Remix and decided against pursuing a relationship with her solely because if she died I’d be reminded of her every time I lay down wax at a hype jam, which happens a lot, it’s my job.

WHAT IF the booker comes back with, “But if you’d married her she could’ve take your last name”?

Then I’d paint a vivid picture of Hanna and how her strong feminist upbringing meant she’d be adverse to the rather archaic tradition of name-taking.

WHAT IF the booker has done enough research to be able to respond, “Without that ‘archaic’ tradition your DJ name would be John Muir-Leno”?

I’d ask them how they know so much about Jay Leno’s mother.

WHAT IF the booker takes off his mask to reveal he was Jay Leno all along?

I’d ask if the part about the childhood best friend named “John Leno” were true because Jay does has a brother named Patrick, but likely didn’t have a best friend who shared his last name.

WHAT IF he asks how I know so much about him and his family?

I rip off MY mask to reveal I’m Jay Leno.

*Fade To Black*

Therefore, the answer to this year’s Wednesday What If?: “What if I were an international remix DJ?” is…

Impossible, there’s only one Jay Leno.