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Monday
The canal skating experience
If ya didn't know the secrets of finding a good time in this town, ya might think that in Ottawa, on a kinda lamely labelled provincial civic holiday in the middle of winter, there'd be nothing else to do but skate on the kinda worse-for-wear Rideau Canal. And that ya might be one of maybe a million-odd Ottawattamies to think the same thing.
Actually, upon reflection, ya might be perilously close to right about that...
Friday
Let the real games begin...
Only yesterday I was telling the Independent Observer how torn I felt. I can, and do, admire the single-minded focus and dedication of athletes that train for years to compete. And their overarching efforts in the sporting events themselves.
But the arguably corrupt organization of entitled minor ex-aristocrats behind them, and the overburden of corporate sponsors jostling to noodge as much reflected glory as possible away from these athletes? Not so much.
And the blank-eyed Prime Minister with the Fiberglas©®™ hair who plans a big post-prorogue poll bounce in the happily-ever-after of Canadian athletes (completely unconnected with himself) winning a buncha bent gold gongs, not at all.
So it is with a song on my lips and a smile in my heart that I open the ESI
But just out of the starting gate, we also have a wild Canadian accusation that the German luge team is using magnets in its sleds. Somehow.
Rapidly followed by official denials all 'round, from the Germans and the sport's international sanctioning body.
As a semimythical coyote of wily but small brain, I'm totally unclear on any, ummm, actual science-y thingies involved. So, apparently, were the accusers. But, hey, that didn't stop the story from bucketing out of the starting gate faster than sledders themselves.
There has been speculation in some parts that this is part of a psychological campaign to strike fear into the hearts of our sledding opposition and unbalance their sang-froid. Unfortunately, they ain't the ones lookin' unbalanced at the moment. Obviously, the PM excepted, Canadians are so amateur at this mind-game stuff. Must do better! Or as we coyotes always say, citius, altius, fortius...!
* Unless You're A Shill An Official Sponsor Whose International Corporation Has Paid A Whack Of Blackmail Money To The Private Club of Crepuscular Old Men Who Run The Franchise As A Personal Fiefdom
Thursday
This Google Poem is killing me
* Life is killing me.
* The suspense is killing me
* shermans house is killing me.
* New York Is Killing Me.
* Rasheeda's Hair is KILLING ME!
* Facebook Is Killing Me.
* That doll is killing me.
* Princy is killing me again, she says if i dont pin up my bangs from now on she'll just butcher them her self. God, i hate that woman.
* I must confess, that my loneliness is killing me now;
* My bra is killing me.
* P90X is KILLING ME! (And I Like It).
* ouch, my back is killing me!!!
* Jealousy Is Killing Me.
* The suspense is killing ME TOO
* So...as you can imagine, this wait is killing me!
* your icon is killing me.
* I am having major spring fever, this rain is killing me!
* The anticipation is killing me!
* Ah man, he is killing me.
* MY HEAD IS KILLING ME!
* your traits is killing me!
* THE MUSIC IN THIS MOVIE IS KILLING ME
* this snow is killing me.
* this genetics class is KILLING me right now
* And Owen is killing me, I could just eat him up!!
* My guilt is killing me slowly.
* My current computer is killing me.
* this blizzard is killing me though,
* My headache is killing me, but in Japan this is the reality of the health care system.
[Source]
Monday
Other Mayors in the News: Preesall, Lancashire
From the Lancashire Telegraph in merry old England:
The mayor of a Lancashire village who got his “sexual kicks” by sneaking into bedrooms to steal and violate women’s underwear has been jailed for two years after he was caught out by a secret camera.
Church-going Ian Stafford, 59, was a highly respected member of the community and Mayor of Preesall, near Fleetwood, before his “bluntly revolting” behaviour was uncovered, Preston Crown Court heard.
Friday
Aphrodisiacly, Coyote*
Also, don't give a male friend a personal massager. Honestly, no matter how you explain that you innocently bought it for his sore muscles (being that he is a labourer), he will tell all his friends that you gave him a vibrator.
And, if wanting to make Coyote happy you give him a bag of granola with dark chocolate in it, be certain to look at the label carefully. Or, he will laugh out loud and say something like, So why exactly are you giving me this granola?
*And, that will be his salutation next time he sends you an email.