James Loney Releases 'To-Do' List for March 31/06

In his daily press conference, the once again openly-gay recently-released hostage andChristian peace activist James Loney announced his plans for Friday, March 31st. "I'm really looking forward to doing my own laundry for the first time in four months. It's been a long time since I've enjoyed the simple joy of separating my whites from my coloreds." Loney then elaborated on how he was also looking forward to transferring the wet clothes to the dryer - something he said he also hadn't done in a long time. When asked if he was planning to clean out the lint tray of the dryer, Loney declined comment, and again, as he does with all his daily press conferences, he asked the press to respect his right to privacy and repeated his wish to get back to a normal life. //////////////// In yesterday's press conference, Loney spoke with passion of his morning spent washing his family's breakfast dishes. It was something he had been denied by his Iraqui insurgent captors during his four month ordeal. Although, he added, he bears them no ill will for this. He also spoke enthusiastically of the trip he had made that morning all by himself to the barber-shop four blocks from his parent's Sault Ste. Marie home. "It was the most fun I've had in years," bragged Loney. In attendance at yesterday's press conference, Playboy foreign corresondent Hugh Hefner could be seen giggling like one of the blonde schoolgirls he had on each arm at Loney's sad declaration. At the same time, Loney's same-sex partner Dan Hunt was visibly squirming in his chair with the uncomfortable look of one who suddenly feels like chopped liver. //////////////////////// Meanwhile in a bombed-out concrete bunker in Iraq, Hussein Fabuulah, one of Loney's captors told the press that Loney seemed like a good guy at first but quickly became a pain in the neck. "Oh Allah, I tell you we couldn't get rid of the infidel fast enough. He was like that kidnapped kid in that O. Henry story, you know the one I mean? He was driving us crazy! Can he sweep? Can he mop? Can he tidy up for us? Do we know that he loves us despite all our threats of torture? And that he didn't think of us as fanatical bloodthirsty amoral insurgents - but rather as 'misunderstood.' At one point he asked for a razor and we gave it to him hoping he might slash his wrists with it. Turns out he just wanted to shave. And then he offered to shave us! Whatever you do, for Allah's sake - please, please, please do not give James back his passport. Do not give him our address. We let him go on purpose. We don't want him back." ///////////////////// Back in Sault Ste. Marie, Loney issued his third press release of the morning, saying that anyone who wants to know more about his attempts to quietly fit back into society can read it for themselves in his daily blog on his website, www. jamesloney. the. internet

No Dignity in Death for Flattened Squirrel

It's been a week now that a dead squirrel has been lying in the middle of the street when I round the corner off of Stanley and onto Perry. The first day I saw him (or her?) you could tell that he had been hit by a car sometime during the night. The lifeless body still a body. Two days later, a frozen stiff fur popsicle, he still lay in the same spot. The next morning, he'd been hit again and this time ripped open as his bloody innards lay spilled and falling out of his gut. By yesterday, he'd been run over so many times he was flat as the proverbial pancake. Unrecognizeable to all. His species indistinguishable. Even his own Mom wouldn't know him. .... Death has been unkind to this poor creature. But not as unkind as our City Works department. How long must one lie dead on the side of the road before someone from road maintenance scoops him up with a shovel and throws him into the back of a pick-up? For an eternity, apparently. Oh sure, I could have done the job myself, but I've been eating squirrel all winter and quite frankly, getting toooo close to that unfortunate former acrobat of the trees would have made me sick. Just the same, it makes you think - There, but for the Grace of God ...

It's "Clothing-Optional" at the Home of Chester and Mavis Jones

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of denim and boxers. And danced the stairs on laughter-silvered shoe-shod feet. ... It's Day 3 since the kids moved away to their new dorms in an out-of-state college and I've decided to treat my home as a nudist camp. From now on I'm going to do everything in the nude. Do the housework in the nude. Pay the bills in the nude. Make salads, sandwiches and light lunches not involving soup, in the nude. Play balloon volleyball in the nude. Watch TV in the nude. Everything in the nude. With the exception of eating pizza, dancing the Charleston and apparently, having sex. Since announcing this change in my approach to personal comfort this morning when I came down to breakfast in the all-together, me missus has been wearing her "I've got a year-long migraine" expression. And the dog looks at me with that embarrassed look on his face. As did the mailman, for that matter. The cat as usual just ignores me - which strangely enough seems the unkindest cut of all. ... But I'll wear 'em down. I always do. It may take a year to break down Mavis' inhibitions and have her join in the fun. Right now she's just got too many hang-ups to hang-out. But it'll happen. In the meantime, I feel free as a jay - and I'm lovin' it, baby. Just lovin' it!

Eating Our Own - the Sad End of The Canadian Tire Guy

Apparently I'm the only one out there who actually liked The Canadian Tire Guy. Imagine that - a big corporation like Canadian Tire putting on eight years of commercials just for my benefit. Their audience of one. Since recently being unceremoniously dumped by Canadian Tire, it seems the whole country has been rejoicing. Including people who should know better. Yes, I'm talking to you, Prime Minister Harper. .... Now, I may not be much of a handyman - but I know a fair bit about tools. And I know what I like. And I like that Canadian Tire Guy. But those fickle Toronto media types had it in for him (jealousy can be the only reason - after all, the man was a bonafide national icon.) and last summer some smarty-pants at Macleans and The Globe and Mail started to make fun of him. The called him 'insufferable,' ' a neighbourhood Mr. Know-it-All' and "the Ned Flanders of Home Improvement." It wasn't long after, that he was named by a poll to be "the most obnoxious man in Canada." Not just the most obnoxious person on TV or the most obnoxious guy in a television commercial - but in all of Canada. Talk about over-reacting. It's only a TV commercial, people! If the sight of him offends you - turn the channel. That's what that remote is sitting in your hands for. ..... And since when does being obnoxious preclude you from being in a television commercial? What about Canadian Tire's previous campaign featuring 'Scrooge?' What about that annoying Scottish guy in the beer commercial who looks like a child-pornographer? What about Red Green? Don Cherry? Or the most annoying Canadian huckster on TV - Mr. Hockey, himself - Wayne Gretzky? Geez, after the guy retired, I thought we wouldn't have to put up with seeing him on TV anymore endorsing an endless line of products. Instead, he started making more of them. And now we know why the multi-millionaire (former billionaire) has to work so hard. ................... I never found the Canadian Tire Guy obnoxious. In fact I'd love to have someone like that in my neighbourhood. He's always there when you need him. You got a flat tire - you just know it's only a matter of time before he shows up and gives you tips on how a new Canadian Tire product can fix that sucker in minutes. You got snow three feet deep to shovel? He'd be over in a matter of minutes with the new 'Snow Vac.' You're having problems with your job or your marriage - he's there with a shoulder to cry on and some helpful advice. Really, just look at that mug of his. Who couldn't confide to someone with a face like that? The truth is, dear Reader - that I think I love The Canadian Tire Guy. And I'm going to miss him. Let us now bow our heads and pray. Alas, the Canadian Tire Guy and his perky auburn-haired wife are no more. And Canada is a poorer place for it. Amen.

I Stand Corrected

Okay, okay. Since yesterday's post, I've been deluded with angry e-mails chastizing me for misinformation. Apparently, the name of the aforementioned hot new band is not Nine Black Elves but rather Nine Black Elfs. Yeah, cuz that's really a difference worthy of a death threat and two e-mails calling me a "no-nothing nob." ...... Anyway its the same band. Not sure if the bad spelling of the bands' name is evidence of a shameless disregard for grammer and the proper use of plurals or the case of a buncha young musicians looking for a strange name just 2 B kewl - and not even knowing that its spelled wrong. ...... Sorry for any confusion. ........... Just the same, whether with an 'f' or a 've", their hot new single, I'm Satisfied rawks.

Sounds Like Teen Spirit

Craig Ferguson is my fave of the late-night talk show hosts but I was flipping the dial last night and came across Jimmy Kimmel introducing a new 'rock' band. They looked like one of those 'alternative' bands that the young people are so crazy about these days. Normally I avoid Jimmy K. and never land there for more than 5 seconds. But this band looked promising. For one thing, they began playing and it was at least a good 45 seconds before the guy who did vocals even opened his mouth. Before that it was this real adrenalin-rushing ringing guitar intro (think about the first time you heard the Edge play the opening notes to "I Will Follow," with that band he has with that Boner guy,) and the bass player was hopping around like crazy and the drummer was just starting to get warmed up to something big .... Even when the singer opened his mouth it all fit perfectly with the rest of the band's sound. They sounded like a bit of a throwback to those T-shirted shoe-gazer bands of the late 80s - only with melodic songwriting to go along with all that buzzing guitar and feedback sound. Anyway, they're called Nine Black Elves (even tho there weren't nine of them, none of them were black and none of them had pointed ears,) and their new hit single is called I'm Satisfied. I predict big things for these kids.

Back Stage at the Academy Awards

Datleline Hollywood; time - about a week ago. Time flies on an expense account. Kids - this town is still abuzz over the Paul Haggis film, Crash beating out Brokenback Mountain for picture of the year. Kudoes have to go out to Haggis who has proved that if you have enough grit and determination to get the hell outta London, Ontario, you can accomplish your dreams and that anything is possible. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if that boy doesn't become President one day. Only in America! ///////////////// And kudoes to the Academy for having the courage to nominate Brokenback Mount. for a best picture award. But in the end, who needs awards anyway when you are doing boffo box-offo? The producers chose a good director, a sensitive story-line and took a chance on a couple of good looking young actors who don't even look gay - which accounts for the film's breakthrough with non-gay audiences, particularly with heterosexual young girls. As with everything in Hollywood, the bottom line is - it's all about having a great looking ass. I bet now the producers are glad they didn't go with their original choices of getting Clint Howard and Dennis Franz for the roles of the love-doomed cowboys. ///////// Congrats too to Ang Lee who won the best director award for the film and the Oscar win has created a buzz that has made Brokenback, the most successful gay cowboy film of all time. I'll admit, I didn't really think much about her handling of the complex story material in her other movie, The Hulk, but apparently she knows how to make a good old-fashioned gay cowboy movie. Way to go, Ang!!! ///////////////////// The big news of the night, however was the completely unexpected upset in which Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit beat out King Kong as Best Animated Feature Film. Who knew? Apparently, the Academy are real suckers for that sophisticated "anything from Britain" stuff. //////////////// Most puzzling award of the night has to go to Best Original Song in which the rappin' hippin'& a-hoppin' hard-luck story of It's Hard Out There for a Pimp from a movie that no one ever heard of Hustle and Flow (?) beat out anything from the soundtrack to Walk the Line. Yo - word tuh muh bruthas in the Acadmy - Johnny Cash is the original gangsta, dig? /////////////////// Of course it just wouldn't be the Academy Awards without some back-stage back-stabbing and bitchiness. I won't even tell you what Terri Hatcher said about Reese Witherspoon's dress. But early in the evening before the Award for Best Actor was even presented, someone backstage was musing aloud and asked the question, "Has anyone noticed that from that cast of hundreds in Crash, not one of those big-names even got an acting nomination? At that point, Philip Seymour Hoffman, who would inevitably win for Capote, placed his fingers of his left hand gently upon his cheek and with his other hand gestured languidly to the room and said this about the performances in Crash - "Oh, that's not acting. That's just swearing." ///// I leave you with that kids. Toodle-ooo from La-La Land and see you in another four years!

My Stupid, Stupid, Stupid Parents! Yech!

Dear Blog Diary - and all my cool friends from school and elsewhere out there in blog-land. Well, it's happened Mother & Father have discovered my blog after seeing some stupid report on them on CNN by that Anderson Cooper dweeb. You know, the reporter who thinks he's so cool because he looks slightly like Fox Mulder and likes to make every news report about him. "Uh, here I am in Florida where the damage from the hurricane Katarina is still on the ground. My shoes are getting soaked and I haven't had time to shave in two days. And I look like Fox Mulder. I'm sooo cool." .... Well, anyway, the big jerk did a report on the "epidemic" sweeping middle-class America of teenagers with their own blogs "These on-line diaries of the sex, drugs and rock n' roll lives that would shock their parents!" And thanks to Anderson my parents have discovered my blog and have now banned me from the computer until after I graduate from college. And gave me a curfew. And oh, yeah - I can't ever see Jimmy any more and only talk to Jenny on the phone. Hey, way to go Anderson, you just blew it with the only generation that actually thought you were even remotely cool! ....... So now my parents think that I'm like something out of a Girls Gone Wild on Spring Break video. They like, invade my privacy by reading my blog - hey, it was on the internet only for my friends, Mom and Dad - not youse guys! And they read about me and Jenny going down to Fort Lauderdale for spring break and they pick up a few key phrases and think they know what they mean because that's how all their friends talked in college. So they read about "getting baked" and getting "pie-eyed" and "being totally shit-faced." And they just assume we were doing whatever they did on their spring breaks like back in the Middle Ages when the other guy named George Bush was President. Hey Mom & Dad if you ever watched something other than MuchMoreMusic or paid any attention to your own kid you might know about the real latest fad that's replaced bling-bling. It's something you couldn't relate to for F***k's sake, but I've heard Grandpa talk about them back in his old hometown in Idaho. They're called PIE-EATING CONTESTS!!! And so just because of a few indiscreet blue-berry pies that I never told my parents about (well, who the hell would brag about something like that?) now we all have to go to weekly family counselling sessions until I get over my 'blog' problem. At least Gramps was cool about it - "Just another example of the Establishment always hassling us kids," he said. Stupid, stupid, stupid parents. I can hardly wait until I'm old enough to move out of this Gwengontanamo prison.

Oh yeah, now I remember

.... Just dragged up from Bob's basement - found next to his old 'Rebelogue' high school yearbooks in a trunk in the fruit cellar. "Dear Diary - I thought last night would never end! Never but never has there been such a wonderful first day of spring. From this point on, whenever I look at a newly arrived robin or an new crocus in a patch of melting snow I shall remember how Howie (known as 'Howard E.' in the Blue Book) had another of his oh-so-very swank affairs (oh, get your mind out of the gutter, Diary - everyone knows that Howie is devoted to his wife Mavis (numero uno, for anyone keeping track.) .... Of course this being London, Ontario, Canada, all the A-list guests had to be flown first to the Woodstock International
Airport (since London still doesn't have an air-strip of its own) - and then bused into town. Most of them thought of it as an adventure. But of course Truman C. and his new pet Lee insisted on their own private cab - thank God for Smitty's Cabs of Woodstock "Two cabs - no waiting!" as their vehicles proclaim. Anyway, Tru can be such a bore and especially when he's been drinking. He rolls out of the cab and proclaims to one and all that his next "blog" (whatever the hell that is,) is going to be the best ever and better even than any 'blog' by Proust. He then pronounced that the blogging done by some guy named 'Lileks' was according to Truman - "That's not blogging - that's typing." As usual, no one knew what the funny-looking toad was talking about but we were still happy to have him there. Until he threw up in Mayor Jane's sandals. Happily dear Diary, that wasn't until the end of Howie's 'event.' ... When Bobby K. rolled out of that chartered school bus arm in arm with Barbra S. and our fearless leader 'Peter Waterhole' tagging along, I knew it was going to be the best night that the fields behind Cavendish leading down to the waters, had ever known since that Tecumseh guy cut some bread with those Pilgrim people. Even the sight of Burt and Angie in some kind of verbal sparring match with Liza Z. couldn't have put a damper on the evening. ... And oh yes, true to form, Howie prepared his world famous BBQ'd hot dogs (altho the Yanks all called them 'weiners' - which caused all sort of guffawing in the Capote camp.) .... In closing Dear Diary, pardon my redundancy but it was a night I shall never forget. As always, affectionately yours, Emilie Harris Jr.

Well, that explains a lot ...

Went to the visitation last night at a funeral home for the aforementioned late Howard (Howie) Engleman. Actually, Howie was always late. That was his only fault. Anyway, one fellow was telling me about how he met 'How' in his college days. Seems that after graduation, Howie went thru a depression spell for a bit - what with no job, no future and the fact that his college girlfriend moved back to her hometown with the captain of the football team. Howie realized that he was in bad need of some professional help but since he was unable to afford a real psychiatrist, he wrote a letter to 'Ann Landers' instead - And she actually answered it. Unfortunately, she answered it in the newspaper and since London, Ontario is a very small town, everyone immediately recognized Howie and learned of his bed-wetting problem. Shortly after that, Howie moved to Des Moines and didn't return for 10 years. ... I used to ask him how the hell he ever ended up in Des Moines but he would never answer. He'd just get quiet and try to change the topic. Well, now I know.

A Remarkable Life

Will it never end? More sad news. .... Yesterday marked the death of Howie Engleman. Referred to as 'Howard Engleman' in his obituary. You probably don't know him. He wasn't an actor. He didn't have the star quality of say someone like Dennis Weaver. But he was probably one of the most fascinating people I have ever met. .... True story - I ran into him in the grocery store one time. There was a sale on of Kraft Dinner. You know the primo macaroni and cheese stuff that comes in a box? Anyway, it was on sale for the same price as the no-name generic mac 'n cheese. And so what does Howie do? He buys 50 boxes of the no-name stuff - even tho he had never even tried it before!!! I asked him why he didn't get the good 'brand' name stuff since it had been marked down to the same price and he muttered something about not judging a book by its cover and that life should be lived as an ongoing adventure - or a lab experiment. He then happily went to the 'one-to-eight items only' check-out and insisted that he was entitled because he only had the one kind of item. The fact that he had 50 of them shouldn't matter. After a big scene due to the asshole in line behind him, even the store manager agreed with Howie's logic and let him check out thru the express aisle. Oh, that Howie - whatta crazy guy!