Myron’s has certainly learned its lesson and has classed up the joint after being put out of business for six months this year. Not only has it performed the business-savvy maneuver of re-hiring the managers that took the whole place under to begin with, but it has also reverted to more tasteful entertainment, such as the Mr. Naturally Hard Body Pageant that will be going on over the next few weeks. Mr. Naturally Hard Body. Oh wow. Sounds like yet another reason to frequent the pristine sanitary premises of Moron’s. Now 17 year olds will become increasingly torn between feeding their heroine addictions at the Velvet or dancing the night away at the infamous Foam Parties at Myron’s, which in my opinion must be at least one of the top ten ways to catch the Chinese Chicken Flu.
Sylvester Stallone has heeded the calls of his tens of fans and has announced his intention to make another Rocky movie. Well thank god. That plotline has certainly not been beaten to death yet. The 59-year-old actor will once again return as Rocky Balboa, this time as a boxer reluctant to return to the ring. Well no kidding. When you’re pushing 60 you can only take so many cracks to the face before you’re laid-up in a hospital like one of the Lindros brothers. Stallone has said that Rocky will reluctantly return to the ring not to win, but only to compete. Well, what a great message for today’s geriatrics. “You can try all you want, but you sure as hell can’t win.” Good one Stallone. Idiot.
Here’s another brainwave from the wonderful City of Summerside. (Actual slogan: “Garden of the Gulf,” which wouldn’t be that bad of a slogan, except for the fact that the Gulf of St. Lawrence happens to be on PEI’s North Shore. “Hey morons! Other side!”). Yes, all-around genius and general pain in the ass Mayor Basil Stewart suggested last weekend during a meeting of Atlantic Mayors that we make a bid for the 2016 Olympics. Splendid. I wonder why no one has thought up this little jewel of ingenuity before. After a quick look at other potential bids I would have to say our major competitors would be Tokyo, New York, or New Delhi, not only because they actually have a hope in hell of actually effectively running Olympic-sized events and of being able to construct facilities and host a couple million people, but probably also because the combined population of these three cities is roughly 23,000 times that of Summerside.
But you know, when you’ve been mayor of a city like Summerside for 20-odd years, maybe you know a bit more about our region that some smart ass University student like me, so let’s consider his proposal for a minute. I mean Summerside already has a stellar ad campaign going that they could present to the IOC: “…downtown Summerside, bring the family, downtown Summerside, we need University…” and so on. Of course, if we did, by chance, win the Games of the XXXI Olympiad, Charlottetown could help out a lot by driving people around in our fleet of trolley busses. In fact, if the new residence is done by then we could probably even host some athletes right here on campus! We could hold darts and competitive shuffleboard events at the Legion, run track and field down at the CDP. Hell, we could even drag some benches up from the Soccer Field and let them use our existing beach volleyball facility. Plus I’m pretty sure the Engineering Department has a Ping Pong table we could probably borrow.
Now to raise the 10 or 12 billion we’d need to put on the Olympics: we’d likely have to organize a golf tournament or two and so we’d have to get the support of all PEI’s celebrities; Lori Kane, Brad Richards, Paul and Anne, Lucille Poulin, that lady who does that cooking show on Channel 10. If we’re really lucky, maybe we can get Steroid Ben to come race against a stock car again. And I’m sure those geniuses at Meteor Creek could probably throw together some kind of propane Olympic torch.
So I guess you were right Basil, we definitely could hold the Olympics, and you are definitely not the stupidest person I know. Now maybe if you and your city could get half a clue you could figure out that no one likes your stupid Lobster Carnival, and that we have about as much chance of bringing the Olympics to Atlantic Canada as you do in getting a University of Summerside. ZING!
Have a good one!
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
...And now for something completely different: The Rants of a University Student (#29)
Do the Pussycat Dolls not piss anyone else off? “Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me? Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me? Don’t cha? Don’t cha?” Uh, no. Not really. Shut up. That’s actually quite disturbing. And gifted lyricist 50 Cent is once again back on the charts with the remix of ‘Outta Control’ with Mobb Deep (From the poetically entitled album “The Massacre”). Mr. Cent discusses in this song his difficulties with alcohol and vice (“…drink till the burn is gone, hit the dancefloor like a scene from soft porn…”) and shows how tough he is by threatening violence and displaying his fearlessness (…I'm known for Gat poppin’, when I got problems, I don't run, I just gun you all up…”), but at the end of the day, he emphasizes his belief in strong parental and family values (“…But we ain't come here to start no drama, we just lookin’ for our future baby mamas…”) Wonderful. Who the hell is this guy? I mean, I’m sorry, but I still do not understand how someone lacking core essentials, such as the ability to communicate in a spoken language or to string together words to form complete, coherent sentences, can somehow be recognized as a great rapper. I mean listen to k-os or Kanye or Kyprios or even Will Smith for god’s sake, and you can at least piece together the point they’re trying to convey. 50 Cent seems intent on focusing on three key issues 1. Gettin’ hoes up in da club, 2. Living in da hood, and 3. Shooting bruthas, doing drugs, and just being a general asshole. Not since Vanilla Ice (“…quick to the point to the point no faking, I'm cooking MC's like a pound of bacon…”) have posers pulled off an attempt at rap, or at art in general, so badly. Well I be hatin’ 50 Cent, that shit is whack. In da club. Word.
Ah yes, Week 6 at UPEI. You can see the desperation on the faces of every student you pass in the hallway. Oh sure, everyone still smiles at each other and greets them with the generic “What’s up?” (Usually the greeter does not give a damn what’s up and just has nothing better to say.) But if you look into our eyes you can tell that each and every one of us is quite literally well on our way to clinical insanity, if not there already. First years, who were only weeks ago blissfully ignorant and aimlessly wandering around campus without a care in the world have now caught a glimpse of what it is to be a University student, and as mid-terms approach, are scared shitless. They now run from class to class eyes wide open in fear, hair unkempt, and papers flying everywhere. Second and third years, who by now accustomed to their collective impending doom are either burrowed away in some yellow cubicle, studying obsessively, or are sitting around laughing it up with friends, knowing all the while that they should be studying, or, at the very least, researching for that 20 page paper due at 4:00. Fourth year students march across campus with a certain purpose, as if they are very important people and are headed to do something very important, like address the United Nations or assassinate Osama bin Laden or something. But they too meet those they pass with an uneasy half smile and a vacant look on their face that tells you that inside they are shitting their proverbial pants. They are haunted by the notion that this year really matters, that every waking moment should be spent studying, that these upcoming exams will determine whether they will get into med school or law school or in a corner office somewhere or if they will end up a hopeless loser or a bum on the street, or even worse, like Paul Allen or something. Of course when we find ourselves freaking about school this much, we should all remember that the life of a University student is not all that bad, that soon we will be paying mortgages and sitting in some office or cubicle 8 hours a day and going to parent-teacher interviews and driving mini-vans and drinking Diet Pepsi. Life is full of tests and challenges and all that nonsense, so try not to freak out too much about that next paper or lab or mid-term. It will all be ok. Of course Science students are by now thinking “Ryan, you are the stupidest person I know. If I do not pass my exam I will die.” Well maybe you should stop wasting your time reading the damn Cadre then. Moron.
Have a good one!
Ah yes, Week 6 at UPEI. You can see the desperation on the faces of every student you pass in the hallway. Oh sure, everyone still smiles at each other and greets them with the generic “What’s up?” (Usually the greeter does not give a damn what’s up and just has nothing better to say.) But if you look into our eyes you can tell that each and every one of us is quite literally well on our way to clinical insanity, if not there already. First years, who were only weeks ago blissfully ignorant and aimlessly wandering around campus without a care in the world have now caught a glimpse of what it is to be a University student, and as mid-terms approach, are scared shitless. They now run from class to class eyes wide open in fear, hair unkempt, and papers flying everywhere. Second and third years, who by now accustomed to their collective impending doom are either burrowed away in some yellow cubicle, studying obsessively, or are sitting around laughing it up with friends, knowing all the while that they should be studying, or, at the very least, researching for that 20 page paper due at 4:00. Fourth year students march across campus with a certain purpose, as if they are very important people and are headed to do something very important, like address the United Nations or assassinate Osama bin Laden or something. But they too meet those they pass with an uneasy half smile and a vacant look on their face that tells you that inside they are shitting their proverbial pants. They are haunted by the notion that this year really matters, that every waking moment should be spent studying, that these upcoming exams will determine whether they will get into med school or law school or in a corner office somewhere or if they will end up a hopeless loser or a bum on the street, or even worse, like Paul Allen or something. Of course when we find ourselves freaking about school this much, we should all remember that the life of a University student is not all that bad, that soon we will be paying mortgages and sitting in some office or cubicle 8 hours a day and going to parent-teacher interviews and driving mini-vans and drinking Diet Pepsi. Life is full of tests and challenges and all that nonsense, so try not to freak out too much about that next paper or lab or mid-term. It will all be ok. Of course Science students are by now thinking “Ryan, you are the stupidest person I know. If I do not pass my exam I will die.” Well maybe you should stop wasting your time reading the damn Cadre then. Moron.
Have a good one!
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