Chapter II

Here I am, standing at the dawn of the rest of my life.

Sorry to take a break from all the poo jokes and bestiality stories but after 23 years I’m moving on to the next chapter in my life. This September marks something of a milestone for me. After being a full-fledged student for over two decades this will be the first time in my life that I won’t be heading back to class. No, on September 6th I’ll be traveling somewhere different.

I’m beside my boss’s desk, letter of resignation in hand. After 5 years together, I’ve decided to leave my part-time job to focus on a full-time position working on a new movie. I’m honoured to have received such an opportunity but at the same time it’s completely thrown my usual life pattern outta whack. Like school starting every September, my part-time supermarket job was something that I could always count on. It was part of my routine. I would work late on Saturdays and Sundays then go to school during the week. For the longest time that was my life, that was how I lived. Much like one of Pavlov’s dogs, the routine became ingrained in my subconscious. My body would anticipate what would happen next before my mind could catch up.

“After five years I have decided...” my letter starts. 5 years. That’s a big chunk of life. Just thinking about all that time gives me the strangest feeling. My mind starts spinning around, like flies over the top of your head on a hot summer day. I can’t accept the fact that this job will soon be out of my life for good. Even though I’ve complained about it for years it still feels strange to have it come to a close. It’s like ending a relationship. For the longest time I knew it wouldn’t last. We slowly drifted apart and started to get on each others’ nerves. It just didn’t feel right anymore, yet, at the same time, it was hard to say goodbye. It had been so long that you learn to accept it because it’s so convenient. It was good enough.

I’ll miss her. I’ll miss all the laughter, all the crazy hijinks. I’ll miss the unspoken understanding that we’ll be there for one another. I’ll even miss that ugly side: the nagging, the bickering, the misunderstandings. But you can’t grow without change. I’ve seen too many people stay in bad relationships because they can’t be bothered to look for something better. Similarly, many people choose to stay in jobs that they hate. That’s like aiming for a bronze.

As scary as it can be, I strongly believe that the only way you can truly be happy is by facing the unknown. If you have to work hard for something it means so much more in the long run. It’s not the prize at the end of the race that makes it meaningful, it’s the pain, the agony and the heartache you had to go through to get yourself there.

So, as I gently let the letter slip through my finger-tips and land on the mahogany desk our life together comes to an end. I give her a soft kiss on the forehead and a comforting hug, as if to say “everything will be fine”. Then I turn my back and walk out through those doors that I’ve been through so many times before and leave for good. The outdoor light catches me off-guard; my eyes slowly refocus on the bustling metropolis around me. Despite a little fear and a little heartache, I know I’ve made the right decision. World, here I come.

Not-so-Subliminal Advertising

For years companies have been using subliminal forms of advertising to attract consumers. A few years ago there was an uproar when the ice used in a Coke ad resembled a curvaceous, naked woman. Whether or not it was intended remains to be seen. Recently though, I’ve noticed a change in the trend. With all the subtlety of a Michael Bay movie, companies have been taking a new approach to appeal their products to us. I thought I should share some of my findings with the world. What follows are all real snippets from boxes at a grocery store and a suggestion for their taglines. There has been no altering or photoshopping in any way (though maybe a little creative cutting here and there).

"Nothin' says home cooked like Turd Corned Beef."

"Be sure to try our new line of sexy meats: Hot Beef, Horny Ham and Chicken Breast Implants."

"Take a dive into paradise with Muff."

"Proudly pumping cocks since 1897”

"Gimme Lean Sausage - you won't get stuffed."

"Liam Brand Ice - we’re cool. At least our mom says so."

The Great Liams

What’s in a name? Well, being a Liam, not much. It’s short and only has two syllables. When I was young it was an unusual name. Substitute teachers stumbled all over it. “Lie-am,” they’d say. Even my family had trouble with it. I remember getting my name tag at a family reunion, of all places, and it said “Leeum”.

‘Liam’ is Irish, meaning “determined protector”. It has a fairly noble meaning, yet in the public’s eye it’s a name that’s usually reserved for babies, drunken soccer hooligans or leprechauns. The sad truth is that ‘Dick’ has a better public perception than ‘Liam’.

It’s neat that there’s a movie called “Liam” but the tagline ruins any sort of pride I might have had: “Big Heroes Come In Small Packages.” Having a small package is not something any Liam wants to admit.

There aren’t even any famous historical figures named Liam. As much as I try to tell myself, Liam Wallace is not the same as William Wallace. The only famous Liams are actors and musicians. The most prolific is everyone’s favourite wise, movie-sage, Liam Neeson. Then there’s Liam Gallagher, the menopausal lead singer of Oasis. Liam Lynch, Beck’s anorexic clone who you might remember from a few years back. Now there’s some other Liam, Liam Titcomb, who’s trying to run my name into the ground.

A quick Google search proves what a merry band of losers we Liams are. There’s “Little Liam Bumblebee” who, while cute now, wont be for much longer. As I, and I’m sure many others, can attest, years of being called “Little Liam” will turn you into a cynical, angry despot. Not appearing on toy store shelves anytime soon, it’s the Liam doll. Just like Barbie, the new Liam doll loves Ken. Then there’s a drawing over at the Marci McAdams Print Shop of an anatomically correct purple cheetah in red briefs who just so happens to be named Liam. Go figure.

Sadly, those are just a sampling. It’s hard to see my people relegated to such depravity. With this in mind, I’d like to bring forth a call to action: Liams of the world unite. We need to undo the fate that has befallen our name. We are not going to be taken as a joke anymore. We are a great, mighty people. Let us work together and give meaning to our existence. Together, we will go down in history with the greats; the Johns, the Toms and the Davids.

See you in Hell, Pluto!

What’s your favourite Disney cartoon? Does it star Pluto or Goofy? Is it Lady and the Tramp? 101 Dalmatians? Whatever it is, imagine if all those lovable little canines were suddenly slaughtered in a massive dog eradication. Pluto’s now swimming with Nemo and Dory, Goofy got gunned down, Lady and the Tramp were ground up into meatballs and the 101 Dalmatians were finally skinned alive and turned into that coat.

This may sound like some kind of sadistic Disney movie from Hell but it’s actually a little closer to reality than one might think. Apparently, at the new Disneyland in Hong Kong, the company has given the green light to go ahead with plans to destroy nuisance dogs. The irony, the irony. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you. Where would Disney be if it weren’t for heartwarming tales about lovable animals surviving despite the odds? This news story sounds like the plot for one of the great Disney films of old: an evil corporation is threatening the lives of underprivileged dogs that are just barely getting by as it is.

I’m sure the Disney PR people went Bonkers when this story hit. To be fair, the higher-ups probably had no idea what was going on which is unfortunate because this couldn’t have come at a worse time. After a string of box-office duds over the last few years and the loss of Pixar, Disney isn’t the same illustrious organization that most of us grew up with.

As for Pluto and company, they’re probably regretting they signed those exclusive contracts with the house of the mouse. Had they joined the Don Bluth animation team they would probably be sleeping a little easier at night. After all, according to them, All Dogs Go To Heaven.

Horse Play

Somewhere Charles Darwin and Sigmund Freud are sitting together having a good laugh and a cold beer.

Last week, a story appeared in the news about a man who was humped to death by a horse. Yes, you read that right. A man. Was humped to death. By a horse. Put that all together and think about it for a sec.

Done? I’m not. I don’t think I ever will be. This guy, whose name I’m sure we’ll never find out, somehow coaxed a horse into mounting him from behind. He then later died because of blood loss in the rectal region. This is, hands down, the craziest, most bizarre, fucked up thing I have ever heard. I don’t even know where to begin. There’s about a million questions spinning through my mind right now and I’m sure another million more in yours. The list goes something like this:

• Why have sex with a horse?
• How do you get a horse to have sex with you?
• If you’re having sex with a horse, why be on the receiving end?
• How does the horse feel about it?
• What was the family’s reaction when they heard the news?
• When will Fox start airing When Animals Attack… Asses?

There’s another question that’s been circling around in the darkest recesses of my mind: if you were in a life or death situation and the only way out was to have sex with an animal, but you got to pick which kind, what animal would you choose?

In my unofficial poll, monkeys maintain a solid lead due to their similarities to us humans and, I’m guessing, their bootylicious derrières. The way I see it though, if you’re going to have sex with an animal, why not go all out? Do you really want to have sex with something that’s sort of a little bit like us? Hell no. That’s like eating pizza potato chips if you’re in the mood for pizza. You’re only cheating yourself.

Other, more exotic animals on the list have included a rabbit, a chipmunk and a house fly (!). One participant enthusiastically answered “Goat!” before I was even done asking the question. As for me, it may sound cliché, but I would have to go with an old favourite: sheep.

Since chimps, baboons and orangutans are like us, they also carry on some of our ugly characteristics. They pick their bums, they eat lice and they drink their own urine. Call me a prude all you want, but that’s just not gonna fly with this boy. Sheep, on the other hand, are beautiful creatures. They’re amazingly soft. So soft, in fact, the cuddling afterwards would be worth it in itself.

I wouldn’t normally throw out a question like that but I figure no taboo is too risqué anymore. We laugh, we joke, but what we don’t realize is that we should really look at this bizarre example and learn from it. Guys like Freud and Darwin dedicated their lives to the study of human nature and the origins of mankind. If they have been looking down on us for the last few decades they probably gave up a long time ago. If any part of them was still holding out hope that us humans could redeem ourselves their dreams were quickly shattered upon hearing this story last week. They probably just tipped their glasses in a toast to mankind. We were good while we lasted but this story proves one thing: in a world already gone mad, it has now become official; evolution, my friends, is dead.

The Revolution

What’s a blog?

Here I am, among my people, the cyber-losers, who see it fit to publish whatever goo spews from the tips of our fingers and the tops of our brains. I’m just some schmuck jumping on the bandwagon in the hopes of joining in on the fun. You know the kind of guy. This is the same person who tells you "Million Dollar Baby is a really good movie” the night after it wins the Best Picture Oscar. Or the same dude who starts cheering for your favourite Hockey team in game 7 of the Stanley Cup finals after dissing them for an entire season. There’s something to be said about conformity. With the clueless abandon of a cow being ushered into a slaughter house, now it’s my turn to join the herd.

As I type this up in Microsoft Word I highlight “blog” and use the usually handy Thesaurus option. Surprisingly, the little guy doesn’t have an entry for such a word. Hmm. Now I’m looking at my old Merriam-Webster dictionary. There’s “blockhouse” and “blonde” but no “blog” sandwiched in-between.

I guess I should join the electronic revolution and check out the resources at my disposal. Where to go? What to see? I could start my search with the online encyclopedia, Wikipedia. I could just Google it. I Suppose I could even try asking that Jeeves guy what a “blog” is. For whatever reason (and no doubt a sprinkling of nostalgia), I end up at dictionary.com. Finally, I know exactly what a blog is. It’s an “online diary; a personal chronological log of thoughts published on a Web page; also called Weblog.” It’s nice to finally have an official definition, although that’s pretty close to what I had imagined.

To me, blogs are equivalent of standing on a street corner holding a cardboard sign with the slogan “The End Is Neer!” emblazoned on the front. It’s a place for anyone, even weirdos and crazies like me, to get our voice out. It’s like a big wall. Rather, it’s part of it. The internet is the entire wall. Blogs are just a brick. People throw up whatever they want, seeing if it’ll stick. That’s what makes the internet such a unique and revolutionary form of media. We are the purveyors of content. Let’s see NBC give up a half hour during its Must See Thursday lineup and let us program it.

The internet gives anyone with 2 cents and access to a keyboard the freedom to do whatever they want. Theoretically, we’re all on an equal ground. As for me, I can say I’m trying to get a point across. I can say I have an agenda and an argument to make. And I can say I want to entertain people. Ideally, all those would be true. Realistically, I’m doing this blog because I like writing and haven’t done much in a while. This little web log is my excuse to keep that up. Nevertheless, I’ve joined the masses in conforming. Yet I’m revolting at the same time. These seemingly two disparate ideologies end up working together in a sort of vicious circle. We’re revolting to avoid conforming, yet we’re conforming to revolt. It’s weird and wonderful all at the same time, and that’s the internet for you. This revolution will go on for a long time to come. But for now, it’s time for me to get back to the herd.

Coming Soon...

... just what the world needs: another blog by some dude you've never heard of.