Category Archives: Stupidity

How to win an argument

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It seems that Moreta Folch is the Queen of winning arguments.  She had a little quarrel with her neighbours in Florida, it’s not clear about what exactly (she thought they were “unsavoury”).   Anyway it seems that she got somewhat upset over the dispute and decided to END it.  I mean, end it once and for all, forever, not open for discussion, nope never nuh-uh.

She bulldozed their home.

She called a bulldozer driver and hired him to demolish the trailer and septic tank where her neighbours lived.  She told the driver she owned it and wanted it gone.  The real owners arrived and found the bulldozer already in the process of destroying everything they owned.  So, they called the cops, and the predicable stuff is now happening with the courts.

But you gotta hand it to her, the bulldozer is a real closer.  There’s just no comeback that works after that.

 

 

Parents ruin Easter Egg Hunt, but teach children the Hunger Games

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In what sounds like a fantastic display of appropriate grown-up behaviour, apparently a public Easter Egg hunt in Laval descended into chaos and anarchy as 10 000 people literally jumped a fence to start the hunt ahead of the proscribed time, with the following description from the CBC:

Displeased with the delay in the start of the hunt, some parents disassembled the fence, causing both children and parents to lurch forward ahead of the scheduled depart time.

“The hunt was supposed to start at noon, but some people arrived at 9:30 a.m. and got impatient,” said Cocothon organizer Angella Pattas.

“It was really the beginning of the loss of control.”

Some children got pushed over as others ran forth to scoop up plastic eggs containing treats.

Other youngsters came away with nothing — especially after some parents snatched eggs out of other children’s baskets to give them to their own kids.

Luckily, no one was injured.

Yep, nobody was injured, except civility, common sense and good judgment.  Clearly those casualties were evident at this event.

Obviously if there IS a time where knocking children to the ground in a mob-maddened scramble for a few cents worth of shitty chocolate is perfectly fine, it must be at Easter time.  You would never get away with this kind of crap at Halloween, hip-checking little Disney princesses and Spidermen out of the way to get some Twizzlers.  Nossir.  That’s a refined, proper holiday.

Source

Vive le Facebook libre?

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As an English speaking resident of Ontario I will admit I chuckled when I read this attempt by the Quebec language police to control what a business owner’s Facebook page says or doesn’t say.  Language laws make no sense to me in any way, it seems to me that they only serve to make it more difficult for Quebec businesses to compete, but this particular attempt could make a bigger news splash.  It probably won’t result in a positive image for the Quebec government, either.

It’s important to note that I am not an educated commenter on this matter, nor does it matter one bit to me either way what happens.

This will be an interesting one to follow, since there are lots of fun things that may come to light.  Somebody, somewhere is going to ask the question:  well where are Facebook’s servers?  And then the fun will begin again….

you have no power here

Bathroom dental floss

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Bathroom Dental FlossI’m not exactly sure who is going to use this dental floss. Its targeted at the guys who are very desperately worried about dental hygiene, but also flagrantly unconcerned about putting this stuff in your mouth in a public restroom. That’s gotta be a razor-thin market right there. Amiright?

Anyway, kudos to the management for worrying about my plaque.

 

A Monument to Laziness

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I can wallow in laziness as well as the next man, naturally.  I mean it took me a decade to even begin to build a deck on my house. A DECADE.  Or more accurately, a DECKADE (which is approximately 11 years, and 6 months and counting because the deck ain’t done….  but I digress).  But this story is a monument to laziness:  Someone left a hatch open on a church tower and some birds flew in and crapped on the floor.  Oh wait, they left the thing open sometime IN THE 1980s. For anyone following along at home, that’s 30 years or so that they just couldn’t be bothered to shut the darn thing.  Now that’s laziness.  A testament to laziness.  An Old Testament to Laziness(tm)  ( I wrote this post just for that joke, right there).  Wait, isn’t one of the deadly sins being lazy?  I’m not the most churchinated person around, but that’s not exactly walking the walk folks.

Needless to say, birds did what birds do, and do they did, to the tune of about 2 tons of bird crap inside the tower.  Hard to imagine they didn’t notice this before now, really.  I mean how do you miss 30 cm of bird shit on the floor?  Those are some seriously distracted people.  Did they finally clue in when they started hitting their heads on the doorways?

Ok, I’m done.  Back to being lazy in my own way.

2 Tons of Crap in a Church, which is a low number by most people’s estimation

The Tale of Harvey and the Swear Words

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Did I ever tell you the time when Harvey taught our then 8-year old daughter all of the swear words in English?  No?  Here’s how it went.

Many years ago, probably around 8 BL (Before Lloyd), Harvey had developed a stomach bug of some sort as all dogs do from time to time.  He had the runs and was throwing up, so I was giving him my by-then standard practice of “no kibble for you if you are stupid enough to eat ALL of the cat poop in the park at once”.  Usually a day of fasting followed by some plain white rice for a day or so put him right as rain.  Anyway, this particular night he was still having some accidents and keeping us up until all hours  one night when I finally tired of him ralfing on the rug (what is it about dogs and puking on a rug?  I mean they are MAGNETICALLY drawn to carpet when they feel sick, forget for a minute that probably 80% of our entire house is some form of hard flooring that is easy to clean up)  and I put him in our bathroom so I could at least clean it off the tile if he got sick.  I immediately fell into bed and back to sleep, but Nikki stayed up listening to Harv whine about being stuck in the bathroom.  Finally her soft, sweet, gentle female heart couldn’t take it any more (and she couldn’t sleep through his bitching), and she woke me up and asked me if I thought it would be ok if we let Harv out now as he hadn’t had an accident recently.  I sleepily agreed and staggered over to the bathroom door to let him out so I could salvage the last couple of hours of the night. Naturally I was too sleepy then to predict what happened, although it’s as obvious as can be now.

I opened the door to let Harv out, which he was very grateful for.  So grateful that he popped out of the bathroom and immediately barfed on the carpet at my feet.  I responded with a strangled roar and Harvey decided that it was time to book it before he was hauled back into the bathroom.  However, he wasn’t quite done throwing up at the moment, so he started running down the hallway towards the stairs, barfing as he went.  Finally my sluggish brain kicked into action and I proceeded to give chase in an attempt to get him to stop so I would only have one pile of dog vomit to clean up.  Picture me in my gitch (sorry for that) yelling incoherently at Harvey, running after him down the stairs wide-legged so I don’t step in the barf.  I am essentially the boulder from Raiders of the Lost Ark, if the boulder yelled a lot and wore boxer briefs, and Harrison Ford was a constantly puking dog.

Harv was pretty quick when he was young and so I didn’t catch up to him until we were downstairs in the hallway on the hardwood and grabbed him and shoved his butt downwards to keep him in one spot.  Unfortunately I staved my middle finger on the floor in the process pretty hard.

At that moment you might say that I was a little upset.  I might have said some things that don’t need to be entered here really.  There was a crackling blue haze surrounding me, and I went on for quite a while pretty loudly before I was able to regain control.  At this point Nikki is very wisely still upstairs, probably trying to decide if I was going to commit just one murder or two that night.  The next hour or so was spent cleaning dog vomit off the carpet with nine fingers.  Harv was suitably chastised already, I didn’t need to do anything more than just look at him without the guilt radiating outwards.  Finally we got back to bed for the now tiny bit of sleep left in the night.  I got up, showered, got dressed and walked downstairs to see Jordy eating her breakfast at the table, and the first thing out of her mouth?

“I heard you last night.  I didn’t know you swore like that.”

Sigh. That was the first time either one of us had broken that particular barrier, I didn’t realize that I had awakened Jordy with my rather unfortunate outburst.  So now I have to deal with an 6-year-old’s loss of innocence too.  Awesome.

Nikki asked me to open a new jar of jam before I left for work, which I did (while favouring my throbbing hurt finger), and which immediately exploded jam all over my clean shirt.  The fact that I didn’t further demonstrate a few words for Jordy again (I mean she already heard them all last night, what the heck, right?) was evidence of a stupendous act of self control that Tibetan monks still speak about today in awed, hushed tones.

So there you go.  The tale of when Harvey taught Jordy the worst words I know in the English language.