GLENN W. MACAULAY

“My penis is alll dark meat”

I think today is American Thanksgiving. There’s been a lot of rumblings on the Internet but no concrete confirmation, and I don’t want to Goog it because they already have plenty of money. Our Canadian Thanksgiving only lasts one day while yours appears to last two weeks and consists not only of turkey and beans, but shopping, Christmas, football and cable news as well. Ours focuses more on the house you grew up in, and if you didn’t grow up in a good house it’s probably about going to the house of the friends who has the best furnace.

Your Thanksgiving is a gateway to Christmas while ours is a gateway to your Halloween. We’re just fine with that because having a post-Halloween ‘giving means your heads are full of spooks and your teeth are rotten from the big sugar bags you receive during the candy hunt.

We prefer to have a nice, wide-open November where we’re free to do whatever we want during the month Week Magazine deemed “Shittiest To Live In Next To March”. Some families create their own November holiday to make up for it. Some examples include:

Crunchy Day
A Nova Scotian tradition where families cram as many dead leaves in the toilet as possible.

First Snow
We eat snow and save some in the freezer to do pranks at the water park once summer hits.

Remembrance Day
Only government workers get the day off on Remembrance Day so some families like to call in sick a couple weeks later for a proper day off. They can do any kind of remembering they want but most families opt for Lord of the Rings on Blu Ray and a nice hot dog lasagna.

Here’s the traditional Irish poem that I hang in my freezer to keep me from taking out more than six chicken fingers (I don’t really care how many fries I take out):

The day that no one died, was a day that no one cried
The day that no one cried, was a day that no one lied
The day that no one lied, was a day that no one sighed
The day that no one sighed, was a day we spent outside
The day we spent outside, was a day that no one flied
The day that no one flied, was a day that Owen tried
The day that Owen tried, was a day that Owen fried

He tried to fly over the corn oil pit
But fell right in as the oil spit
His skin crisped up all golden brown
While folks gathered around from all over town
He wanted to go to the other side
He wanted his mom and dad to cry
But he did not die and you know why
This was the day that no one died.

The real author is me and the main character, Owen, is based on a video game I tried to get off the ground called “Crispies”. Isn’t it odd the directions that art takes you?

Last night I doctored this animated .gif file to make a Gen X joke that ties together the army guy’s famous move called “SONIC BOOM” and the band Sonic Youth (native New Yorkers). They were and still might be a band who got famous in the early nineties for being ‘too rad for dad’ and having haircuts that the barber your mom took you to simply didn’t understand. You can do whatever you want with this thing, just don’t pour water on it unless you print it first.

I saw it fitting to delay this season’s Remembrance Day post until after Remembrance Day so we can look back and remember Remembrance Day and all the remembering we did.

Ms. Memory

This year I took out a craigslist ad asking for real deal war stories to go with a bowl of my dad’s poppy pappardelle with chunky gun sauce. The most poignant tale came from a gentleman who survived both the Iraq War as well as a war in his neighbourhood that had something to do a very smelly cat. The solider decided to orate the story to me in person so I had to do my best to scribble the tale on my jacket using a combination of hand soap from the Tim Horton’s bathroom and strawberry goo from the Tim Horton’s white donut. What follows is my best attempt at paraphrasing the tale and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy warts on a witch.

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When I turned twenty I had two things on my mind — Star Wars and the world’s tallest woman. All of that changed when I saw two small children fighting over the last autumn McIntosh at the local orchard where my uncle would take me to to strip bark to sell to a middling mobile artist. Every urge in my body told me to stop them, but I had no authority. I asked my uncle what it took to be a cop and he told me “all you need is a tolerance for bullshit and a pair of balls that don’t mind getting squished now and then”. I told him that there are a lot of female police officers and he said “Santa’s not a girl, is he?”. I ignored him and resumed stripping my last trunk when it occurred to me that maybe the armed forces was the right choice. I wasn’t totally into the idea at first because to me, the army is just a lot of bad food and toilets so clean you almost feel weird blasting them. Since my uncle had several buddies who had served at one point or another I asked him some questions:

Q: Are the haircuts really that bad?
A: How itchy is too itchy?

Q: Are all superior officers mean?
A: No, some of them are really good lickers

Q: Can I order pizza if I want?
A: Only a superior officer can, but it happens quite often

It was this answer that really sold me on enrolling because it meant I could retain one of my most treasured freedoms. A month later I was off to Cougar Pit, Ontario to begin my career.

I guess the realities of the armed forces became apparent shortly after my first assignment, which was providing underwear jokes to a high-ranking admiral stationed off the coast of Edmonton. We were in the barracks, getting ready to bleach the sheets when I felt a rumble in my tummy.

“Sir, permission to speak, sir”
“Yes, boy?”
“Sir we’ve been working for three hours. Can we order pizza, sir”
“You want order pizza?”
“Sir, uh, yes sir”
“Okay, Order: Pizza it is”

The admiral pushed a button on the wall, a button I’d never noticed before. Once pressed the button emitted a high, screeching alarm and every solider in each of the 13 barracks emptied into the yard. The troops formed a circle as the stable master led seven, mud-caked fillies into the ring. The cook emerged from the mess hall with an arm full of brushes and a large can of tomato sauce.

“Did they get sprayed?” asked the cook.
“Nope, but cadet (name withheld) called for Order: Pizza. I guess he thought the horses needed scrubbing.”

The rest of that afternoon was spent cleaning every one of those horses down to the last hair. The admiral gave me tail duty and I was forced to learn to braid on the spot, something most men have the luxury of learning while their little sister prepares fake fucking tea for dolly and stuffed toad. That night I couldn’t sleep, reflecting on what my uncle had told me and how initially excited I was knowing I’d be allowed to eat my favourite food in my second favourite government-funded organization, the first being public pools. But it was all either a misunderstanding or the darkest lie. I did stick with the army, saw some action and saved some lives but I’ll never forget that wake-up call. I’ll never forget Order: Pizza.

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Oh MAN! What a silly story. There is one interpretation of this post where the whole thing is a dream because I ate too much poppy stew. I’ll leave you with a seasonal joke:

What’s the difference between Remembrance Day and Halloween? Nothing, they’re both about ghosts.

Today’s tip will make the lives of coaches and warehouse managers better than the lives of a mildly alcoholic bank guys who have hot tubs in their backyards but don’t really take care of them. For everyone else it has the potential to streamline your life and improve your general well-being. I know what you’re thinking: “I wear a copper amulet that my herbalist’s blacksmith recommended, claiming it would make me feel less ‘ippy’ all the time. Turns out it’s all hokum. The thing looks nice but my son still calls me an ip. Why should I buy what you’re smelling?”.  I can’t comment on a product that isn’t available at Loblaw’s, but still, I understand your reservations–just hear me out.

All you need for this life tip is your go-to, everyday clipboard and your go-to, everyday facial tissue. That’s it! You’re done!

By replacing your regular, sharp clipboard paper with standard-issue (or that kind with the cream baked in) facial tissue, you will double your productivity, freeing up more time to bathe your family’s best bowls for the upcoming salad blast. 

With this new setup you’ll be able to:

– Make notes, just as you would using the same kind of paper you print your birthday dos and don’ts on. It may be a tougher jot, but this setup is for the true penmans anyhow.

– If you must fire a peasant during work hours, you’ll be able to console the victim in a timely and gentle manner by having both crying/snot tissues and walking papers (also printed on tissues) available in one place, ready to go.

– Washrooms at the sports field are few, far between and caked in “old banana”, know what I mean? Keep your lineup on a couple of softies and use them on your butt wherever it is you lay down your brown.

– Dirty clipboard? Wipe it, no spice.

Be sure to log back on in December where I’ll show you how to turn a frisbee into a wart for a reindeer statue.

We’re all used to the scary things that pop around Halloween time: witches and their soups, skeletons dancing like crazy, black cats sucking milk out of a ghoul’s green ta-ta, Frankensteins being sad then mean etc. etc.

There’s a whole bunch of other scary stuff that happens around Halloween that have never got the “Charlie Brown” treatment that I’d like to highlight before November takes hold and really pisses us off.

UNDERRATED SCARIES

Opening a Swiss Army Knife to find all the tools are noodles

Emptying your enemy’s bike tire of air and the air that comes out is blue, making a sound like “juuuuuuuub”

Peeing so long that your chicken fingers burn and all that’s left in the fridge is a jar of old jam that won’t open.

Finding a helium balloon but there’s no one around to enjoy your funny voice saying “I’m a goblin who can’t faaart”

Using a Ouija board to find out if there’s ghosts in your house but all it does is tell you new guitar tunings that don’t even sound very good

Getting rabies right before your parents bring you back some famous sweets from their trip to London.

Finding an old deodorant in your backpack but it’s the one that smells like the soap that was always in your grandma’s bathroom

Going to the zoo only to find out they don’t serve good salads at the visitor’s centre then finding out the gorillas eat very good salads with a lettuce you’ve always wanted to try

Looking through old photos and remembering that you used to love making homemade granola bars out of picked snot.

Brewing up a fresh pot of kidney bean coffee and forgetting that you don’t have any sour cream.

Having someone tell you that you look like the child of mustard and relish.

Spending six years building a clock then having your grandkids buy you an iPad

Going to Church and counting 18 shrugs by the Priest during the sermon.

Deciding to finally write your novel then reading your daughter’s diary, which is so funny and good.

Happy Halloween, from the Master of Disaster, the Ace of Chaste, GLENNY