23 July 2014

Help Me Buy Four Cases of Pacifico

Quite a few years back I allowed the motherfucking geniuses at Google to stick adverts onto the Dope City Free Press. Did it so one day I would get paid enough to afford four cases of beer, drink them with some friends, and write about it.

That day is nearly here. Just a handful of people stupid enough to click one of the adverts Google thinks you will like need to do so before I get my fucking money.

Today the motherfucking geniuses at Google think I would like to buy a mid-summer vacation in Cancun. They nearly hit the mark with that one. I do not want the fucking trip however. All I want is four cases of Pacifico.

Never clicked one of those adverts myself. Back when I was still a teenager I trained myself not to be swayed by advertizing. To this day when I am in the market for something that is advertized I find it just about impossible to pay attention to the shit.

You, on the other hand, fucking love advertizing. Click the advert. Now!

22 July 2014

Steepleton Strike News

Turned up at a support rally for the men and women on strike against Steepleton's biggest private sector employer. At city hall. The mayor and his Councillors, having refused to hear or address the workers privately, were paid a public visit.

Got to talk to a lot of the workers before they first rallied outside and then entered the hall where council conducts business. Fuck of a nice group of people. If I were an employer I would be proud to have them around instead of trying to scare them off with a pile of anti-worker bullshit.

I paid close attention to the workers' plant chairman as he addressed everybody outside. He gave a great speech and you could tell his heart was in the right place. Not like the chairman where I work. His heart is in the right place but, like most forest workers, the only place he gives a good speech that is longer than telling the boss to "Fuck off!" is in the bar on Saturday night when most of his audience is half passed out.

Inside council I was reminded right away why nobody would meet with the workers: there is not one working class member among them. It was all free enterprise this and free enterprise that. There was one important piece of business undertaken before I walked out in disgust. A parcel of land was cleared to be taken out of the Agricultural Reserve. Soon as that was done just about everybody in the room who was not a striker picked up their briefcase with a greedy smirk and walked out like they had won the lottery.

Upgrade Anyone?

The world's technology happy capitalists are not sure about much but they are sure, sure as green shit comes out of the back end of a Canada goose, about one thing: they, by golly, know what the fuck they are doing.

Yeah, right.

Twice in the last week Dope City's computer guided driverless commuter train network, the very system our technology happy capitalists insisted we buy, expand and "upgrade" over the past three decades, has shut down due to computer failure. Hundreds of thousands of workers in a rush to get home so they can smoke a joint and have a beer have been stranded on both occasions.

Upgrade. That is an often used word by technology happy capitalists. Like most words such people use it means the opposite of what you might expect. It means fuck you so hard you will never forget it.

As usual, I do not know why people do not take to the streets when they get fucked over like this. Remember when people had balls?

20 July 2014

Bye, Bye Johnny Winter

Weekend began like most do at home.
Let the dog out.
Put some music on.

Johnny Winter's
"True To the Blues" and
"Hey, Where's your Brother?"
Filled my digital music player.

Every week
It seems
An old rock 'n' roller

Fucking death: another dirty ass
Rock 'n' roll motherfucker gone.

18 July 2014

A Friend of the Hammer

The Hammer has friends. Dog friends. Some from the neighbourhood, some from the trails. Some of her friends are big, some of her friends are small. She prefers her small friends. The ones that sometimes sport bows on their collars and smell of perfume when they are fresh home from a visit to the poodle parlour.

One of her bowed wee smelly friends is in for surgery today. I am pulling for her to make it.

The Hammer does not understand sickness and death like you and I. Most dogs understand the present. Smart dogs know when the weekend is coming. They learn this by watching their master's drinking habits.

15 July 2014

Beer the Nazi Hunter

Old boy passed the Hammer and I other day as my dog was nosing a dusty garbage strewn shrub for information only a fucking dog would want to know. Real old boy. I noticed he had a military walk as he walked ahead of us, same walk my grandpa walked, so I sped up my pace so I could try and coax a war story out of him.

"Hey buddy," I said to him once I had closed in some.

No answer.

"Buddy!" I yelled at him a few more times until I was at last at his side and he had to acknowledge me.

"What do you want?" he asked with a German accent.

"You were in the military when you were young, weren't you?"

He admitted he was.

"Who'd you fight with?" I asked.

He would not say.

Fucking Nazi. Probably thought I was a Nazi hunter when he would not answer me when I had called out to him. Canada proved to be a very safe place for the dirty motherfuckers to hide after their merry-go-round of hate came to a stop. Loads of Hitler's children landed right here in Steepleton.

"Bet you're glad you came to Canada, eh?" Everybody answers that question the same way when you ask them. Fuck yeah. But not this fucker.

"Worst thing I ever did was come to Canada."

Maybe not the worst. Maybe just the worst he would admit to.

12 July 2014


Same as every year since I was a wee laddie dreaming about all the beer I was going to drink one day the World Cup Final features two teams who can fuck off and die far as I am concerned. The motherfucking Nazis and the motherfucking country the Nazis ran to to escape the noose at war's end.


I am happy old Maggie is not alive to see this, as I shall, cold Patagonia in my Anarchist hand.

9 July 2014

Doug " Not Batman" McCallum

I remember seeing Doug McCallum on the television news taking credit for cleaning up one of his shit city's many dirty boulevards. "Fucking bullshit," I said to myself.

Next day I went down to the boulevard to see if I was right. Brought Ranger, my second dog, with me. Tucked my hunting knife in my boot too. Probably ought to have brought an AR. McCallum's city was dangerous as fuck before he was mayor, during his time as mayor and likely to remain so until our species reaches its extinction.

Sure enough I was greeted on the still dirty boulevard by more whores, pimps and junkies than Lou Reed's life's work. "Nice dog motherfucker!" Needles more numerous than a Chistmas tree's sticking out of every patch of skin on the human body - in broad daylight - and all the fucking cops down the road in the Tim Horton's as usual.

Fuck of a crime fighter Doug McCallum is. You would mistake him for Batman if he did not look so much like Commissioner Gordon.

I have one piece of political advice I did not hear enough of when he officially launched his campaign - go fuck yourself Doug. The people of Surrey do not need you fucking them again. It was not so good the first time.

7 July 2014

My City, My Province, My Country, the War Machine and Rock 'n' Roll

My city is fucked.

My province is fucked.

My country is fucked.

The world has gone to motherfucking war.

So let's talk about rock 'n' roll.

Hail! Hail! Rock 'n' roll!

If you see Johnny Winter's four cd career overview "True To the Blues" fucking buy it. (Does not appear to be available on vinyl for some strange reason.) I have been listening to Jimi Hendrix more than ever these past few years. Johnny taught Jimi a thing or two. Listened to Johnny a great deal when I was teenager in love with motherfucking Texas, the blues and rock 'n' roll. Not a lot since but always a little. Listened like a man careful with how he uses the needle. That needle. The needle that will destroy your blues like a long walk in the Canadian wilderness. If there is such a thing as too much great guitar playing, too much soul, too much too much, you will find it here.

One thing that pisses me off is I know there is buttloads of great rock 'n' roll out there I will never hear. You have to get lucky, live near the city, farmhouse or cabin in the heroin woods where it was created to get exposed to it. Lucked into a copy of Nuke and the Living Dead's "Dig This!" Fucking extraordinary punkabilly. Like a coastal faller's chainsaw colliding with Elvis' funeral procession. From Detroit these boys are. Detroit Rock City. Label is Crypt of Blood Records. Self released one other. Play around Detroit someplace every Hallowe'en. After the show the kids burn what is left of that ruin of a city down.

Sure do like The Black Keys' "Turn Blue." Makes me want to drop acid, form a commune that worships the Dope City Free Press (like people in my city worship fucked up governments of all levels in my country kicking the crazy and homeless when they are down) in the rock 'n' roll woods and set my people to killing rich movie stars.

Back in England, Status Quo have released a special edition of their "Piledriver" album. If you do not get Status Quo you most likely never will. For my money everything they released from "Ma Kelly's Greasy Spoon" to "Rockin' All Over the World" is solid fucking gold. "Piledriver" in particular. This commemorative release includes the re-mastered record, and a bunch of cool shit, recorded live and in studio, for the BBC. Want to know what makes this motherfucker tap his toes? Listen to "Paper Plane." This is the shit that caused me to burn down all the schools I went to before schools became nothing more than a means to mold free children into happy on time under budget low maintenance union what union fuck we will work for free workers for the war machine.

Speaking of commemorative re-releases, Rush have given the world yet another do over of their first record. Canadian as moose steak and a pitchfork optional rebellion this is. Re-mastered and printed on 200 gram vinyl it sounds better than ever. I am not one of those assholes you see walking around in one of their Rush tour t-shirts and long fucking hair (have not seen them since their brilliant hockey rink Dope City appearance about the time they released 2112 (are we there yet?) and at which they began their set at precisely 21:12 war machine time and if I do not see my barber once a month I get all itchy) but I L-U-V this record and the old TO cunts need to renovate their houses in the south of France so go fucking buy it.

5 July 2014

What Is Wrong With Canada?

Went hiking on Canada Day,
Stopping to eat a great many
Wild blueberries, salmon berries,

Huckleberries and a small ground hugging
Variety of black berries
I have not seen for quite some time.

Just my dog and I
And the motherfucking wilderness -
No people to fuck it up.

I live in one fuck of a country.
There is only
One thing wrong with it.

Fucking Canadians.