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Sunday, November 23, 2008

I wish I was American

I wish I was American so I could get a free Dr. Pepper. I love Dr. Pepper. Guns 'N Roses, I don't really like that much, but I love Dr. Pepper. Tasting the delicious blend of 23 special ingredients on the soil of the Greatest Nation on Earth without paying a cent would be a dream come true. An American Dream, if you will.

O, how I long to gorge myself at the sweet brown teat of the good Doctor Pepper Certified M.D.

I imagine a Guns 'N Roses soft drink would taste more like a cigarette butt that someone extinguished in a beer bottle filled with urine. Maybe it would have slight overtones of Used Condom and Tiger Blood.

Why don't Canadian companies put on awesome promotions like this? Why can't the Powerful and Influential Hudson's Bay Company exhibit the same sort of generosity and give a free tobacco plant or stylish beaver pelt to every Joe 28-Pack and Jane Hockey Puck in Canada if the Queen finally gives us the right to select our own field of employment?

How much sweeter will it be once you can finally quit your Imperially-Legislated job sanding off the sharp edges from sheets of paper, and use your Ph.D in Molecular Biology for it's intended purpose? (Which is of course achieving outsize grants for highly speculative research that never comes to fruition and allows you to attain tenure for the duration of your career).

Imagine if you will, my fellow Canadians: a solitary, sturdy tobacco plant flourishing on the 50 acres of dusty, barren farmland that is every Canadian's birthright. Properly pollinated, this one tobacco plant can handily reproduce to fill up your entire property. Before long, the Profits will start rolling in and you will have the most well-appointed Peat Hut or Igloo in the entire Dominion of Canada!

Or, imagine ye the possibilities of owning your very own beaver pelt! You could fashion some sort of Beaver-Based hat out of it. It would finally protect your ears and proud Canadian forehead from the constant, unforgiving, soul-crushing cold weather. It could act as camouflage from the various Unseen Wild Beasts that populate the many dark forests of this Great Dominion. It could be traded with the various Indiginous Peoples for some magick tea that may help cure your persistant Scurvy! (Though be wary, for the Savages of this great land are quite unfathomable, and they may try and poison you. If you have recently raped or killed a Wylde Savage, it is best not to approach another Savage for help. For some reason they take great offense to this.)

Alternatively, if ye can smuggle yourself aboard a sturdy vess'l back to the motherland or comandeer a team of Dogs of the Sleigh Across the Mythickal and Frozen Bering Strait, you may be able to trade with a Genteel Englishe Man for a square meal of four Ruttabeggas, a pint of stout, and consideration for a permanent position in his employ as an endentured bootblack!

At any rate, you would no longer have to face the harsh climate of this Inhospitable Hell wearing only a tunic crafted from the Bark of the Birch and the Ivy Poison.

But enough about the inadequacies of the Hudson's Bay Company. Their corruption is well documented and one day our prayers will be answered and the CEO of the company, Prince Rupert of the Rhine, will be struck in his cold, black heart by the very Hand of God, warming it to the pitiful plight of Canadians or at least leaving it Seized and Spastick.



HOW DARE YOU STAND THERE JAUNTILY WHILE CANADIANS VERILY STARVE EVERY DAY!!?!? PRINCE RUPERT YOU FILTHY SOW I SHALL NEVER PLEDGE MY ALLEGIANCE TO YOUR UNHOLY QUEEN SO LONG AS THE FACULTIES OF MY TWO BRAINS ARE FUNCTIONING!!!!

Moving on, I never quite understood the appeal of Guns 'N Roses. I always figured it would be something everyone would grow out of, the same way they grew out of Limp Bizkit. Axl Rose's plaintive wailing never touched a chord with me, and I remain unmoved by their uninventive songwriting. I don't care what an amazing guitarist Slash is; I am unimpressed by their bombastic, bloated songs. To me, it just recalls late-period Aerosmith, which sounds exactly like Jaleel White yodelling into the cone of a gramophone while the needle tracks on an Extra Large Domino's Pizza with anchovies and Carrot Top slowly disembowels Jaleel White with safety scissors.


Did somebody say Aeorsmith? chchch gow gow yeah!

No, get out of my blog Steven Tyler, you old queen, nobody wants you!


Ieieieie have nothing to live for. I'm going to go tie a scarf around something now chchch gow gow! YEAH...

Plus, I always thought that they could spell their name with a bunch of Zs instead of Ss, and it wouldn't affect their fans' views on their artistic integrity. Not a good sign. BEHOLD:

GUNZ 'N ROZEZ

Their new album is getting teriffic reviews. Should I give GNR another chance? Anything that took 15 years to make deserves a listen, I guess. From what I've read, it's even more unapologetically overwrought than their previous work, but what the hell. Sometimes you just need to keep cranking that knob to find the right balance. Sometimes, just sometimes, THE BALANCE EXISTS AT 10, MOTHERFUCKER! RAWK OUT WITH MAH CAWK OUT! THE BALANCE EXISTS ON THE EDGE WHERE THERE IS NO BALANCE!!!!

It's the same thing with Van Halen. For some reason they are considered Great, but I hate every Van Halen song I've ever heard. From Eddie Van Halen's endless masturbatory guitar noodling to David Lee Roth's winking slimy powerfaggery, I hate it all. I don't think a Van Halen song could be recontextualized into something I would like. Who gives a shit if Van Halen can tear ass all over a fretboard? It just sounds even more like a bag of screeching cats.


David Lee Roth invents powerfaggery

RIGHT NOW, YOU ARE A POWERFAG!

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