Oh... limp-dicks.

Take off your winter onesy and head on down to doomsville 2010. where the atmosphere retaliated on us for Earth rape. Garbage bags made out of crude oil were packed with things made out of crude oil. Don't worry, we're fighting a war for more of these products, so we'll never run out. Global warming just became a wake up call made out of ice water.

Here's a new olympic event:
Ya start at the Arctic, and ride a giant ice cap down the title wave. As it melts, everything gets swallowed by it's wrath. It's called apocalympics. Puntastic.

Here's a too sooner:
This is presented and brought to you by ruthlessly forced world-stage brown nosing and media ass-kissing. The insensitive continuance and lack of remorse has forced me to show you a new song.

(sung to the tune of a popular BECK hit)

I'm a louger baby... So why don't you KILL ME!

Ah... You win some you louge some.

Come ON PEOPLE Don't luge your head over it. (greyhound jokes are ok right?)

kids on a tank. Usually they're underneath.

The fireworks are the loudest part of the friendly war. It's also the most violent... To dogs.

The people, on the other hand, were being pussies. From what I saw, the obnoxious hockey enthusiasts were actually pretty tame. Now if gorillas fucking in an octagon was a sport in the winter olympics, it'd be a different story. All those people would be an Ed Hardy magic eye. If you blurred it out and focused- you'd see the yaz shot, that SHOULD have missed the egg in their respected mothers, and instead made a 5 ring circus on the wall.

I don't know what that means either.

I loved the prices. Cuz the biggest douche bags, that are Steve Douchenes when they're hammered, were TOO POOR TO DRINK downtown. Full six packs were eyed and disposed of by the narc rangers. All it took was a little deception and they were easy to beat. Mickey and a slurpee? Beer in a Thermus? I mean thurmas? I mean... thermas? Fuck. Can't spell a company.

It's amazing how long everybody's hanging on to the allowance of auto gratuity and raised prices of everything you could imagine. Building manager wants an olympic damage deposit. Cat wants an olympic can of whiskas. Last night I tipped my girlfriend.

See of red.

The real war is totally still going on. I mean it's not like Iraq or Afghanistan had some competitors in the 'games'. Not too many winter athletes in the desert. Let's just say there's too many mines in the middle eastern mountains to practicemoguls. And you waste too many bullets with an AK 47 to get a high enough score in the biathlon.

All the pretty little flags. All the wonderful little trinkets. The amazing flyers and pamphlets and safety reminders and city guides and culture awareness information cards. The piles and piles of time sensitive, captive moments that are completely useless for anything after the 28th of February.

Thank you olympics. The place with the trees can take the damage you bring with your delusional expectations that serve as a canvas in which to paint your bull shit disney world out of a neglected metropolis such as my city. It's just so you can flaunt your influence to make a country go in to superficial panic mode to appeal to an international stage. All compensations are at the expense of the working class people, the service industry, the regular commuter, and of course... the natural resources.

Thank you Nazi's. Someone's running a torch in to a forest fire.

wars are never hard on paper. They're only tough in the actual fight. In the real war, the one that's not the olympics, Canadians celebrated for a second. In fact, the safe tent that they showed footage of when the Men's Hockey team won gold, would make you think that khandahar is Retardi gras.

Fight or dance battle.

On the news they actually said this: "From Abbotsford to Afghanistan, Canadians were celebrating." They mentioned the war in the opening sentence of the broadcast. Amazing how subtle.

Now we can go back to an impossible deficit and job cuts. Oh.... Canada.