Here’s our podcast featuring songs about food. As per my last blog I can’t eat food anymore but I can still listen to music about it; you can listen right here by clicking the button below or download it for free in the iTunes Store. Just do a search in ‘Podcasts’ for ‘blunt radio’ or ‘can i be blunt’.
Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 59:31 — 68.1MB)
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I finally watched the video of Jonathan Antoine on Britain’s Got Talent that was popping up on my less cool friends’ Facebook walls. With all the comments, “This is amazing! Incredible! You can’t judge a book by it’s cover!” Anyway, you’re not supposed to talk about people’s weight, but seriously, you see this dude and you go, “Holy shit! Look at the size of that guy! Or is that a girl? No, it’s a guy.” Then you find out he has a great singing voice, if you like opera. How is this amazing? He’s just a fat guy, he’s not in an iron lung. Fat guys can do all sorts of stuff, be scientists, chefs, professional poker players, and even singers. Look at Meatloaf. None of that is amazing. If Jonathan had done a ten foot pole vault, that would have been amazing.
I know this because I was obese for the last ten or fifteen years. Not huge like Jonathan but every year when I saw my fucking quack doctor he threw a tape measure around my waist and said, “Unless you lose 9 cm you’re obese.” Then he stuck his finger in my ass. At least this year when he violates me he won’t get to hurt my feelings first, because I’ve dropped close to 30 pounds. It took a while to figure out how I did it. At first I thought I channeled the paranoia of chronic marijuana use into an eating disorder. Then I thought I had cancer, but decided to go with it since it was working. I finally realized it was just some slight changes to my eating habits, which were difficult because of my work.
I’m a film technician, a grip. If you’ve always wondered what grips do, the textbook definition is modify light and assist with camera movement. In layman’s terms, we try to fuck every single woman on set and provide the actors with drugs. You know who you are! Shooting crews work 12-14 hours a day and are supplied with free food constantly. Catering for breakfast, anything you want. Three hours later sandwiches come out, three hours after that catering again for lunch: meat, fish, or vegetarian entrees with sides, soup, salad bar, and dessert. Might as well grab a Coke with that. Three hours later, hot snack. Plus the craft service table is stacked all day with donuts, croissants, sandwich fixings, chips, nuts, gummy bears, cookies, and oh yeah, fruit salad. As well as every blend of fruity herbal tea you could possibly imagine. Think about that the next time you’re spending fifty bucks to take your old lady to the movies. Sucker.
I eliminated 80% of the white flour from my diet a while ago but that did fuck all, five pounds in two years, maybe. Then I did a show last December with really shitty craft service and dropped ten pounds in three weeks without even trying and I discovered the secret to weight loss. Eat less food. I still eat a donut a day, but at lunch I only eat until I don’t feel hungry anymore, not until I’m so stuffed I can’t move. After work two hours before bed when my stomach is growling I have two pieces of whole grain toast and peanut butter, not a whole fucking pizza.
It’s a question of motivation, mine is vanity. The more weight I lose the better looking the women that are attracted to me get. I don’t give a shit about lower back pain or heart attacks or diabetes: I like hot chicks and I don’t miss a Big Mac meal with a chocolate shake and a cheeseburger on the side at all anymore.
So fat people’s dirty little secret is out, they’re fat because they stuff their fucking faces with food. But that’s their right. Just like cigarette smokers, they’d rather die young and happy then be old and miserable. And there’s nothing wrong with that. I just wish they would stop whining about the teasing. Who gives a shit what other people say about you? You think I care when people call me a bald prick? Hardly. If someone’s making fun of your weight they have crippling self esteem issues that can only be masked by hurting others. And if the best they can come up with is a shot at your size they’re also lazy, unoriginal, and stupid. Tell them to kiss your fat ass, and order yourself up some Chinese.
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The name Kony kept appearing on the periphery of my internet. I didn’t bother finding out who it was, I just assumed it was the latest high society bimbo with a self-leaked sex tape. A Facebook friend that was a little conflicted on the Kony issue foolishly turned to me for advice so I did some investigating.
I started with the Kony 2012 video, 87 million hits by the time I checked it out. And I wouldn’t have gotten through the first three minutes if I wasn’t watching for a friend. Jason Russel, the film maker, uses his precocious camera whore son as a narrative device. Now look, the insights of a four year old child may be illuminating to a reality TV audience but I need something meatier. That’s followed by the tale of brutality from the organization’s poster child, and then we’re in rock video mode. That’s when I got it, and was suitably impressed. What a masterful hustle, shine a spotlight on an evil guy that nobody heard of or gave a shit about for 20 years, after all, who wouldn’t pony up a couple of bucks to help stop a guy that abducts children and makes them kill their parents and hack chunks out of peoples’ faces. That’s some shrewd marketing.
You can support the Invisible Children charity by getting the Kony 2012 Action Pack for thirty dollars; you’ll have to wait though because they’re on back order. You can get a Kony bracelet for ten dollars or a ‘Made In Africa’ Kony bracelet for twenty dollars, which begs the question where’s the ten dollar bracelet made? China? The twenty dollar bracelet comes with a pretty box which if truly is made in Africa was created by cutting down rainforest. You can get a free Action Pack by becoming a supporter for only a “few dollars” a month, fifteen to be exact, which totals $180 a year.
The YouTube video alone has made more than five million bucks and Invisible Children have sold another fifteen million dollars worth of Action Kits. You might ask “How are my charitable contributions dispersed?” According to Russel, one third goes to charity, one third goes to their infrastructure, and one third goes to making more films. So if you buy a $30 Action Pack, only $10 helps the Ugandans. The other $20 keeps the film makers driving Range Rovers and surfing high speed internet, funds more movies, and pays for their events. I’m not sure what the events are, jungle raves with free MDMA and condoms? Probably not, and I’ll explain why.
Never mind that the majority of the atrocities committed by Kony happened eight years ago, and are not ongoing as the video insinuates, and never mind that the current Ugandan government is a dictatorship guilty of their own atrocities-including the use of child soldiers-the real dirty secret is who are the big financial backers of Invisible Children.
Hardcore right wing Christians that hate gays. Uganda must be heaven on earth to them, a bill has been revived in the Ugandan parliament to punish homosexuals with life in prison, the death penalty for certain offences, like if one of the participants is HIV-positive. What’s the chance of that, in Africa? And remember, this isn’t Kony reviving that bill, it’s the good guys.
So, if you hate fags and think they should be killed this charity is for you. Get yourself a ten dollar Kony bracelet today. Me, I’m going to give my ten dollars to Wikipedia.
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A co-worker wanted me to write a blog on receipts, the way different stores do their dates differently. Tax time and you get a receipt that’s dated 03-11-2012, one store it’s March 11th, another it’s November 3rd. So now you’re either stressed out endlessly flipping through Visa statements or your paying some asshole a hundred bucks an hour to sort it out for you.
There should be a standard. I think it should be month first, despite being forced to get new cheques a couple of years ago with the day first, to be in line with the States, which pissed me off but does not influence my preference. I like broad strokes; when I want to know when something happened, I don’t want to start with 1/365th of a year, give me a twelfth. If you ask me how tall I am I don’t say “eighteen hundred and eighty millimetres”, I say “six two”. And if computers are so goddamn smart why can’t they handle May or Feb or Aug instead of just numbers. Sorry John that’s all I got, I mean what the fuck we’re talking about receipts here. On to lingerie football.
Abbotsford, the so-called Bible Belt of British Columbia has become home to the second Canadian franchise of the Lingerie Football League. The team is to be called the Abbotsford Angels which I’m sure will be less than thrilling for Abbotsford’s Christian population, and so soon after their victorious expulsion of the Naught But Nice sex toy show. The show pulled out after the Christians yanked their roaming liquor license; the show still could have had a beer garden, but I suppose no one will buy anal beads or ball gags unless they have a drink in their hand right there.
Anyway, I find the Lingerie Football League demeaning to women. Before you decide I’m some New Age Alan Alda-esque douchebag proclaiming myself a feminist I’d like to point out that I do not find strip bars demeaning to women. In strip bars everything is up front, “OK, your job is to roll around naked on a stage with your legs spread and between dances coerce customers into a private room where you’ll stick your ass in their face.” No false pretences there, unlike the Lingerie Football League. ”OK, we’re a professional sports franchise, we’re looking for female athletes of the highest calibre, and, oh yeah, you’ll be playing in skimpy bras and panties.” So dishonest.
I don’t know about your town but in mine as the Lingerie Football League has grown the number of strip bars has dwindled. The Drake, gone. Marble Arch, gone. NBI, gone. Fraser Arms, gone. The historic Cecil…gone. Like everything else it’s all about the money. Sports generate big advertising revenues-strip bars do not. I say it’s time to stop robbing women of their dignity and abolish the Lingerie Football League. Instead open more strip bars, and make up those lost ad revenues by tattooing the strippers with corporate logos like ‘Kenmore’ or ‘Maytag’ or why not a beer company, like ‘Busch’.
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I’m starting to feel like dating again. The urge hits me every now and then. Last time was when all the hookers got kicked off Craigslist. I’m an Android user so according to an alleged Match.com survey I am more likely to have sex on a first date than an iPhone user. I see sex on a first date as a positive outcome but it is not my expectation. According to my friend that spends a lot of time on Plenty Of Fish it takes three dates to get laid. Coffee, drinks, dinner, total cost, $140, coincidentally the same price for 45 minutes at a so-called “rub & tug”, which are easily identified by their business name, a term from nature coupled with a variation of the word “relax”.
Anyway according to this alleged Match.com survey, there’s only like a 5 percent difference between iPhone and Android users going for it on a first date, and those five percent are most certainly lying about their true intentions. Blackberry users are a significant 14 percent less likely to do it on a first date, unusual since 72 percent of them drink on a first date and 67 percent confess to experiencing love at first sight. If you ever do have sex with a Blackberry user make sure you play safe, since along with their outdated phone their idea of contraception is a Mesopotamian waxy plug filled with crocodile dung.
I keep saying alleged survey by the way, since I haven’t been able to find the actual Match.com survey to see what the sample size was, if it was all men or women, or if there was even a survey at all. I went as far as completing 70 percent of the registration process at Match.com, which was enough to get sixteen matches emailed to me the next day, unfortunately all women my own age. I could not find the smartphone survey anywhere on the site, but I did see a bunch of other surveys and scores of essays advising on every aspect of dating, ”First Date Dress Code”, “10 Conversation Tips For Dates”, “15 Ways To Dazzle On Your First Date”, “7 Witty Ways To Snag A Second Date”, I guess I was naive or ignorant or both but I didn’t know that’s what dating is now. It seems so dishonest to me, nobody is being themselves anymore, they’re just mouthing the same script from Match.com. Now I don’t feel like dating anymore because I refuse to be dishonest. Instead I’m taking the higher moral ground and heading to the Ocean Relaxation Centre. See you in an hour.
