c'mon down ta South Park...

The likeness is eerie...

via South Park Studios.

hat tip to Rilana.

Ahnold with nukes!

Schwarzenegger: Let foreign-born seek White House



20 years? Hell, they want to give status to illegal immigrants. How 'bout 20 days?



Uh, I don't think Mr. Machiavelli Kissinger is the best example you could come up with Arnie...Of course Terminator 4 could be filmed using the full arsenal of democracy if Schwarzenegger/Stallone 2012 comes to fruition.

Considering America's status as the "cultural melting pot" and haven for immigrants I think this kind of law is an anachronism. It smacks of special status for those who from an accident of birth can do something that others cannot. Strange for a country where "all men are created equal."

Then again, it really doesn't matter does it? I mean women and minorites can now be legally elected president, right? How many have been put forward for president? That's right. None.

I hope he's successful.

I really do.

Because then I can move south and become leader of the free world. Muahaha!

Just because you're paranoid...

I wrote in this entry about my paranoid reaction to the meter reader in my yard.

Turns out that my paranoia is not without some foundation-



And who is this masher, this miscreant invading the ladie's privacy?



I'll bet it is.



And of course we can always trust the gas company to be completely discreet by sending only upstanding citizens into our backyards.

That's it.

Time to let the dog roam free to chew up some trespassers...

REM Sleep

Our youngest, Princess Punkin', is teething...

This means that no one is sleeping except our oldest, who has that incredible deep sleep of an active two year old. And boy does little Punkin' have pipes! I remember my buddy Paul telling me that his second child was quiet and easy-going; neither of my girls can be described that way...

So I'm losing REM sleep...

I'm being woke up every two hours or so, when it's my turn or not to deal with the poor wee one. I'm OK to do it, but my brains are starting to scramble: I'm feeling drunk during the daytime: that otherworldly sheen that the world takes on when you're on whiskey number five - minus the lack of co-ordination and feelings of impregnability that come from a bottle.

People keep telling me that having two kids this close together is great: when the youngest is ten! Until then it's double-teaming hell.

Even spreading the child care chores with Rue isn't keeping fatigue at bay for either of us. Sometimes I wonder how she keeps going. I think she's tougher than I am...and her cooking is much better.

Firsts...

The laptop is thrust into my hands...My darling Valentine smiles at me and commands me to DO IT!

I answer the following questions to create The Kraut's Memory of Firsts!

Your Earliest Memories in Life.

What is your very first memory of:

1. Mother

Apple Cake in the oven. Being told to shhhhh! or the cake would fall and I wouldn't get any. Lies all lies. It wasn't that kind of cake.

2. Father

Always building things in the basement. I remember sitting in a half-finished sailing dinghy and Dad going upstairs to answer the phone leaving his hammer within reach...BANG BANG BANG! Dad running downstairs, murder in his eyes, then laughter..."Help build DADA!" says I.

3. Siblings

My brother is 16 years older than me...At dinner when I'm three years old he leans over and whispers: "How do you like your BLOOD SOUP, Raymond? You know Mom and Dad are lying when they say it's tomato soup..."

4. Friends

Lewis and Raphael, who eventually proved false. Rot in hell.

5. Pets

"Can I have a dog?"
"No, your Dad's allergic."
"What about my brother's dog?"
"He didn't have a dog."
"What about the dog in the pictures?"
"Oh. That dog...Well your Dad have to have shots every day so we could keep that dog. It made him very sick..."
"Can Dad have shots so I can have a dog?"
"No."

The allergy story was a lie. I proved it later. They just shrugged.

6. Food

Apple cake. Steak, potatoes, lotsa garlic. Fresh salad from the garden.

7. Toy

Lego, Lego, LEGO!

8. Bathtime

Scalding hot water turning my skin bright pink; the only way to take a bath. Regular burning shampoo in the eyes. No more tears, my ass!

9. Bedtime story

"Go to sleep or the evil clown in your closet will deal with you!"

-kidding

I usually put myself to bed and listened to the clock radio. Crying myself to sleep when the Maple Leafs lost (which was always. It was the 1970s!)

10. Music/song

Constant German music taped off the multicultural radio stations. Lotsa marches... The Germans do love their marching tunes.

11. TV

That magic moment when the old black and white TV was unplugged and taken away- while I was watching!...starting to cry...then a new, BIGGER, TV was wheeled in by my father and brother...plugged in...turned on...AND THEN THE WORLD TURNED COLOUR!

12. Movie

"The Sound of Music" - parents of a friend of mine offered to take several of us to a matinee. I'd never seen an image so big! I sat through the three hours speechless.

13. Christmas

Pocket Fisherman, the most useless gift a five year old who doesn't fish could get.

14. Neighbours

Mr. Mann next door would tarzan-yell every time he saw me. I'd answer with the same yell. His evil white and black cat Herbie would hunt birds in our yard. I'd hunt him. His daughter Nancy, who was 18 had a thing for my brother. They both worked at the Toronto Zoo. I had a thing for her, but I didn't yet understand what it was...

15. Play

All the lego piled together into one grand lego fortress. World domination... Muwahahahah! Snow fortresses outside on winter days.

16. Smells

Did I mention I liked apple cake? The smell of cake baking in the oven.

17. Clothes

Ugly corduroy, ugly polyester, really ill-fitting crap. Everyday running shoes in the days before the Nike swoosh ruled the school yard. Cool Addidas kids looking down on the rest of us...

18. Travel

Four days trapped in a van with my parents travelling to Vancouver from Toronto and then another four days travelling back. Standing back from the rail of a car ferry in fear of it collapsing and me being thrown into the churning ocean where the sharks would get me...

19. Notice of opposite (or same) sex

Michelle Baker, cute little blonde girl with straight hair who had no idea I was alive.
Finally noticing that our buddy Clarissa was a girl (and a pretty one too!) a couple of days before I moved away to British Columbia for fourteen years...

20. Early memories that don't fit any of the above categories.

My first ever memory is of stepping on a bee and having it sting me in the foot. The blinding pain! Not being able to stand after that. The agony of waiting for my mother to cross the yard and get to me while writhing on the floor...



via Rue from Abraca-Pocus!, my Valentine and originator of this meme.

Sniper, Baby!

What Gun Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

via Classical Values

Old

That's it. I'm now no longer relevant. I am over the hill.

It's been a fun 33 years but now I'm just going to give up, hitch my pants up to my armpits, move south, pretend it's not hot and start bitching non-stop about the lack of special privileges for old people (like me!)

It happened this morning.

I looked out the window and saw a dishevelled young man (that's the exact way my now over the hill brain described him: dishevelled young man - up to mischief no doubt!) walking across my front yard. I tried to think which high school is nearby - but there's only the private school down the road. They all wear uniforms. He couldn't possibly be from there.

He appeared to cut across the front yard and headed for the apartment building accross the street! He's one of the residents of the "projects" (as my wife calls the apartment buildings across the street) and the little bastard cut across my lawn as a shortcut. He disappeared into the doorway.

He's lucky I didn't see him earlier. I would've released the hounds. OK I would've released the hound who would've shown him who's boss by licking him to death. The nerve of some people!

Of course his parents are probably products of the "I'm OK, you're OK" bullshit touchy feely "rap with your kids" school of discipline. More concerned with his "wittle feewings" than with instilling a sense of respect into the snotty little bastard...

Still bothered by this, I look out the window across the street and notice the same snotty little bastard climbing through the snow in my neighbour's yard.

Cheeky little bastard! Where the hell's my phone!

-- And then I notice why he's trudging through the snow: he's reading the electrical meter on the side of the house!

Who the hell am I becoming? My father!?! Next thing you know I'll be driving the speed limit, whining about all the boy racers passing me in my minivan...

This can NOT be happening.

If this guy's not a refugee...

then who is?

North Korea reminds me of Orwell's 1984:



...lured home by her parents...who probably had a good idea what was going to happen to her.



So, with the self-importance of Pontius Pilate, she washes her hands of this and sends him back to his death.

Canada is usually seen as a haven to bogus refugee claimants; people who are undeserving. Here we have a case that seems to qualify perfectly as a genuine situation and it's being refused.



So what's the incentive for any high level diplomat to defect if this is the response they'll get. Any high level diplomat will be "aware" of his country's excesses. What bullshit.

Mr. Ri's problem is that he obviously has nothing of value to trade to Canadian or American authorities. And for this omission he'll be returned and killed.

Blogiversary

Well, as of today it's been one year that I've had this blog up. When I look back at the earlier entries I see the beginnings of some kind of thinking process, but mostly I can't escape the early gibberish present in my first posts.

Not to say that these current posts don't contain their share of gibberish too- They're just more eloquent gibberish-infused posts, with a hell of a lot more mudslinging.

Many bloggers get deluded by their own egos ("Hey, I'm part of a movement!" "I actually have a unique and important idea about Iraq" "Hey, let's talk about Paris Hilton and Janet Jackson!") but I make no such claims about my importance.

If you're here reading this, thanks for stopping by. Leave a comment. Us anonymous bloggers feed off the ego-stroke of the comments. Please leave a comment. Please?

Fine. Don't. See if I'll be your friend anymore.

---

Hmmm. Paris Hilton AND Janet Jackson together in a video. Now that's a good and unique idea!

Can't trust Time Lords

I knew the Doctor would get the BBC in trouble.



Well he's a Time Lord. Of course he's using inside future info to manipulate commodity pricing.

Damn meddler.