Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Baby Sale!

I liked spam more than most email . . . till I opened this:
     Hi, 
     My name is Mrs Yetunde Owolabi from Republic of Benin, I gave birth to triplets, 3 babies at a time. After the death my husband by auto car accident, I have 8 children birth of triplets in addition to the 5 already from God so I 've decided to give out the triplets for adoption. 
     Please bear this in mind, the babies are not for sale but you will only pay for the adoption fees.
     If you are interested reply back for more details. 
     Thanks 
     Mrs. Yetunde Owolabi 

Image: Old Navy.

Monday, April 29, 2013

Please read this “Please Read Me First” post first, please!

I’ve been writing these stories since 2001 and have, at last count, polished off 817 of the things—81,700 words—or something like a whole novel’s worth of disjointed thought.
        And even if it has taken me more than a decade, I am now finally flirting with the idea of publishing some.
        And I’d really like your help.
        I need you to tell me, right off the top of your head, which you’ve liked best. Don’t go looking, just post a comment or send a note describing your favourites as best you remember.
        Those are the ones I will count.

Photo by Jeremy Sterk, Pier 12 Photography.

Friday, April 26, 2013

The New Presidential Library

Word today of the opening of the George W. Bush Presidential Library (or as Dubya calls it, “Lie-Berry”). It is a remarkable honour for a man who darkened few library doors in his youth. Had events unfolded differently, this might not have been an issue; after all, his focus was going to be domestic. Well. Unschooled in world affairs, he had to rely on his national security “dream team”. Perhaps if he’d read more books he’d have formed his own opinions; he might never have invaded Iraq, or based his post-war strategy on a flimsy pop-up book, Democracy Made Easy.

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Bubble Man

“Sonofabitch.” Bill greeted the prospect of a working holiday with a dread usually reserved for colorectal screening and destination weddings. Sure he got through British Customs via the fast lane with his wife and kid, who both held EU passports but this was cold comfort for a fortnight away from cat and castle. He hated leaving; home was so pleasant. Except for the never-ending winter, he really couldn’t complain about much. Here he achieved a balance, shutting off CBC whenever the news became too depressing or after Matt Galloway had mewed out “community” one too many times for his liking.
Photo: Sari Garden by L. Leclair

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Shallow Hits a New Low

Guilty as charged, I’m a little shallow. But I bet you also I’m not the only one. And is it really shallow, when you look at a photo of the apprehension of a guy who allegedly – though his aunt in Toronto doubts it – pressure cookered a marathon and wreaked havoc on a city and ran over his own exploded brother with the getaway car (awkward!), and is now intubated, sedated, and reviled by his uncle, is it really shallow in this instance to look at the guy and find the first thing comes to mind is, “Hey, he’s really ripped!”?  

Saturday, April 20, 2013

Colliders

What a shame that the idiocy of two boys has monopolized the news this week. Twisted and unforgivable but nothing that folks in the West Bank or Pakistan or even Europe haven’t been dealt on a daily basis. They grieve and vent and then move on. But because this happened in America there’ll be ribbon campaigns and concerts and anyone who looks like my son will be under increased and fearful scrutiny. That is, unless they want to buy a gun at Walmart. Forget looking in space for it, the God Particle is alive and well and living in Congress.

Image from The Particle Zoo.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

The Higgs Bosom

So Peter Higgs, the guy who comes up with the God particle doesn’t want us calling it the God particle anymore because (a) he’s an atheist and (b) it was a joke. But calling the God particle the Higgs boson is not gonna be an improvement. Because it sounds like breasts, not any breasts, but breasts of a misspelled and old-fashioned variety that go with the kind of strangely-ribbed pink underwear that, in a spirit of fierce conservation, gets made by some kid’s grandma into the face of her doll. If that’s what the universe is made of, oh Jesus.

Image: Ecouterre.

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