Archive for March, 2012

SOME PEOPLE IN THE U.S. are already preparing for the apocalypse. One company in particular, Vivos, is selling rooms in massive underground shelters.

Their motto: “It wasn’t raining when Noah built the Ark.”

“Which side of the door do you want to be on?”, they ask.

I think that we should encourage this behaviour until it includes all Americans, who will flee and hunker down in bunkers for a while.

Why? I’ll tell you.

Things that are great about Americans preparing for the apocalypse

This will save me time crossing the border. I don’t know if it’s my charming, n’er-do-well, mischief-making smile or the dynamite strapped to my body, but I’m always questioned for ages. I think the immigration official sees the number of stamps in my passport and alarm bells go off. The brows knit and the interrogation begins, always with the same questions.

This is the conversation I have every time:

“I see you have STAMPS in your passport.”


“Must do a lot of TRAVELLING.”


“Why would someone ever leave their native country?”

“To see the world.”

Communists: still shooting laser beams from their eyes

“Hahaha. Good one. Hmmm. I see you have VIETNAM here. A COMMUNIST country who defeated us in battle!”

“That is so.”


“Enemies of the free world.”

“How did you pay for these trips?”

“With funding from the Taliban.”

“I’m sorry?”

“With money your mother paid me in casual installments.”


“I saved up.”

“And what is your intention in coming to the U.S. for three days?”

“I’m visiting New York.”

“Oh YEAH? Don’t plan on STAYING do you?”

“You got me.”


“I plan to leave Canada, a country that enjoys public healthcare and cheap education, in order to work illegally in a country with some of the highest gun ownership and homicide rates in the industrialised world, where I will pay an exorbitant sum for healthcare and look forward to paying potentially hundreds of thousands of dollars for the education of my children.”


OK. Fine. I don’t say all of that. But I want to.

This is the conversation I will have at customs now that he is hiding in some bunker somewhere peeing himself:

“. . .”

Fine cuisine

It gets better. While Americans are hiding in their bunkers, we can walk right into their houses and eat all their meatloaf. It looks like a log of poo, but it tastes like a loaf of ground meat bits from every animal you know about. Our intentions could also be benign. For example, we could confiscate their guns. High gun ownership rates and high homicide rates might be linked. JUST SAYING. IT IS A REMOTE POSSIBILITY. DON’T SHOOT. Other things I would like to take from the United States while everyone is hiding: Natalie Portman; Ray LaMontagne; New York. A lot of stuff, actually. That I don’t want to get shot. It’s a bit childish, but I’d also like to pee on the doorstep of The Westboro Baptist Church.

There’s a whole bunch of stuff I’d like to do there that requires people though. Examples: taste the food in New Orleans; attend a black southern gospel church; listen to music in Austen, Texas; and many more.

So eventually, it would be OK for them to come out again.


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SOME SAY THE WORLD will end in fire. Others speculate that it will end when a Near-Earth asteroid moving through interplanetary space impacts the Earth. Still others point to the tidal destruction of our planet when the Sun exhausts its hydrogen core and becomes a red-giant in five billion years. I say, fuck those people.

This is how the world will end.

Sarah Palin will be elected President, and move the White House to Alaska, so that she can watch Russia from her backyardSnooki will give birth to the anti-christ on December 21 (which is amazing, because according to other rumours, she is three months pregnant – meaning that she will be pregnant for an entire year). In these final days, social unrest will lead to political revolution – catapulting the next generation into power. As such, politics will be divided along cultural lines, with the dominant political parties becoming the Hipsterites and Douchebaggers, encouraging such popular political debates as: Gym Tan Laundry or Latte Cigarette Kony? In a climate of economic conservatism, Hollywood will eat itself, having made every possible sequel and reboot imaginable. Spiderman will have been rebooted 49 times; Indiana Jones will have seventeen sequels. The only still existing movies will be sequels to Transformers. Ke$ha, who will rewrite the American national anthem – to “We R Amerricans” – will write and talk-sing all music. The idioms of text messaging will dominate English.

This is how I imagine having conversations with people of the future:

“Hi! 🙂 How r u?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Can I has cheezburgerzzz lmao smh.”

“Stop talking like that.”

“Y u mad bro?”

“I’m going to punch you in the face.”

“LOLOLOLOLOL 🙂 :s :p <3.”

God, fed up with this shit, will hurl a meteor at our pale blue dot, rocky death streaking from Her hands. The meteorite will trigger a nuclear bomb setting off supervolcanos that send tsunamis crashing through the Himalayas. Mormons will be taken up to heaven. And we’ll all stand around saying, “well fuck. They were right.

Why is my scenario great? A meteor. Megatsunamis. Supervolcanos. All things that looked awesome in the movies Deep Impact, Armageddon, and 2012. And all things that I, as a white man young enough to be the lead, might survive.

Here is what it will look like:

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I HAVE ALWAYS PLANNED to get a map tattooed onto my back. An antique affair across the middle of my left trapezius. Getting a tattoo sounds like a good idea for my last year on Earth, but these pictures have made me think twice.




Blashko lines:

Blashko lines are sort of like Rorshack inkblots, but on your skin. They’re actually natural lines that manifest themselves in some cases of skin disease or mucosa. In the picture on the left, I see either a wine glass, or a Roman orgy. Two women are going down on each other while Caesar watches. Turn your head and sort of squint.

By the way, here is a medical condition in which your skin turns blue: argyria, caused by eating silver.

Papa Smurf: "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Paul Karason, a Californian man, ingested silver when he was high as fuck and couldn’t find Doritos.

He was high as fuck and couldn't find Doritos.

“I do have this metallic chemical element/precious metal lying around,” said the Californian man as he chowed down. It’s true. Read the story here.

A map tattoo: to do or not to do?

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Eating disgusting things

I HAVE A RARE hobby. It is to purchase and eat the most disgusting thing I can find at the supermarket. The winner so far is a can of sausages floating in some sort of sausage juice, purchased from a supermarket in Lancaster, England. There is nothing quite like canned sausages washed down with sausage juice.

Voila, my most recent disgusting food. Meatloaf in a box:

I was excited about this meatloaf for several reasons. First, because it looks goddamn awful. It’s a contender. With our time on Earth running out, this is important. Second, because North Americans eat this sort of thing: it’s a cultural experience. Meatloaf is like a loaf of bread, but made of meat. At some point in history, some hungry genius said: “Fuck bread. Let’s put leftover meat bits from every animal we know about and make it into a loaf. A loaf of MEAT.” And meatloaf was born.

Behold the trick instructions, however. They imply that one puts the meatloaf into the oven still in the plastic container. The result, as I discovered, is melted plastic.

The finished product:

As you can see, the presentation is impressive. I mean, look at it. It looks like a turd. It looks like a piece of shit on a plate. Accompanied by mash potatoes. It’s brilliant. Who the fuck would want to eat that. The smell gave me pause, however. The aroma wafting from my plate was almost appealing. It indicated flavour and edibility. When I sank my teeth into that brown log, I knew. Was it bland? Yes. But there was also a salty, meaty taste that sausages in a can just do not have. As I ignored the appearance and texture, closed my eyes, and let the brown juices run down my face, I swallowed and forced a chunk of every animal we know about down into my esophagus.

Did I enjoy it?

Yes, goddamn it. YES I DID. . . . Don’t look at me.

Sausages, you reign supreme.

Good try, though, meatloaf that looks like poo.

I give this dish C+ on my disgust-o-meter.

Please suggest more disgusting things from the supermarket that I can review.

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I am afraid to commit this to writing because it means that I will have to follow through.

I am going to tell you some of the things that I plan to do with the year remaining to me.

Some little things:

Host a fundraiser concert/houseparty for Handle with Care International: done (we raised $900. Wahoo!)

Organise a nude charity calendar


Play a show

Some not as little things:

Record an album

Be published again

Start a novel (at least it will be partway done when the end comes)

Survive a night alone in the Amazon

Improve my Spanish in Buenos Aires

Live in Paris

Tell everyone how much I hate them. No, love them

What else can I do from my list?

We will damn well see.

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AS THE EARTH approaches the next solar maximum, whereupon torrid spouts of fire will erupt from the Sun, I contemplate the asteroid that will then knock our planet out of the sky and into a collision with the planet Nibiru, sending us skipping across space like a stone across water into the black hole that is our dark destiny.

This Mayan woman is doing something nefarious with thread

In a previous blog, 28 Things, I formulated a plan to see/do 28 things before I die. That was before I heard about the Mayan calendar. According to the Mayan Long Count calendar, December 21st 2012 represents the end of the 13th b’ak’tun, a period of 144,000 days, and so the end of the fourth world. This means that the Sun is going to explode, Earth’s magnetic field will reverse, an asteroid will crash through our planet’s crust, and the mysterious planet Nibiru will pulverise what remains, leaving a black hole to neatly vacuum up the bloody particles our mashed bodies leave behind in space.

The end is nigh. This is the end of you and me, of tears and laughter, the last year of earthly things. I can’t finish all 28 things on my list. But I can sure as hell make this year an adventure. I am going to post a list of things I want to do this year – during this, the final chapter of my life – and write about their completion. In between, I will post idle thoughts and amusing pictures/articles/videos in order to document the comedy and tragedy of this fragile and transient human life, soon to be extinguished in a fiery rain of solar flares and planetary debris. In short, this blog is: to post idle thoughts; and to organise the completion of as many 28 things as I can manage.

Wish me luck.

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