This week’s poll was the most contested one yet. A photo finish, with no clear majority in sight.

HEY, WHAT’S THAT SOUND takes the win by a single vote. (And people say their vote doesn’t count!) COLLABORATE AND LISTEN! comes in second, and HAMMERTIME! in third, only 2 votes out of second. Not much love for the classics, as DRAGGING MY HEART AROUND and IN THE NAME OF LOVE barely showed up…

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Vote in the new poll, over to your right there… no, down a bit… no too far…up… THERE.

Recently due to a scheduling snafu, I missed out on an opportunity to give a public reading of the most hateful literature I could find. First, I recommend if you are in the Vancouver area you check out the “Say Wha?” show on June 8th, but in the meantime, I have located the motherload: The immensely compelling world of celebrity tweets, and specifically the genre-defining work of Justin Bieber.

Already, twitter is a format which offers little in terms of depth of thought, or riveting narrative. Why should it offer anything ? It’s instant, it’s easy, it teaches retarded schoolgirls to type with their thumbs. 140 characters is hardly enough space to compose a great novel- A great haiku? Yes. A great novel? Unfortunately, no. If the medium is the message, then the medium says “Hey! Hey! Hey! Over here! Hey!”. We are a culture of desperate castaways, and the twitters are our bottled messages, cast adrift on a vast ocean composed primarily of other bottles with messages in them.

Sometimes I misspell my text messages, sometimes I use cute acronyms, sometimes I google a meme. Sometimes I store a message inside an R2 unit, but none of these things are intended for the general public. In fact, @thecorrectness sends the occasional tweet, usually proofread, and as such I know a lot about what @nathanfillion thinks about the amusing comments of @simonpegg. God knows I update my facebook status all the time, but people have to willingly participate in that comedic venture, and I never say anything personal.

Justin, with no further apology, here is where the sympathy train must stop. Celebrities know that thousands upon thousands of people follow them, and that their tweets are public.

An aside: Oh how I am loathe to use the word “tweet” as a noun.

“That blue bird is tweeting”: Acceptable.
“Did you hear the bird tweet?”: Passable, no worse than most Dick and Jane readers.
“Here is an old tweet I found, under the Christmas lights in the garage”: Appalling.

Celebrities are using Twitter as a means to reach the masses- the brain injured masses of teenagers anyway- and as such, they should think about what they say before they say it. But even more terrifying than the bizarre syntax and impenetrable intent, is the sheer inanity of the content. Justin Bieber knows this too. He knows, but sometimes forgets, that thousands upon thousand of people read his thoughts. I’m certain he is reeling from backlash lately (I read his tweets), and backlash is something which I have never experienced outside of a junior high school context. Actually, my ex lovers have participated, on occasion, in an impressive character assassination of me, but this is not my story.

Here are a series of examples from the creature known as Justin Bieber. For those who do not know, it is a thing which makes, what some pundits loosely describe as, “music”. The Bieber thing is very popular at its radio noise, or its Youtube lookables. I am not part of the Bieber’s demographic, I do not understand it, but it has legions of fans who tune in to hear it say the following things:

“Wow that was the longest flight eveerrrrr. At least I caught some zzz and watched legally blonde 1 and 2 haahahaah 10:42 AM May 23rd via Twitter for BlackBerry®”

Dear Justin Bieber: In response to your tweet on May 23rd, here is how a joke is constructed: Step one, say something funny. Step 2: Craft a punchline instead of saying “hahahahah”.

Sincerely,
RobbieRobTown

“lakers vs suns…this is a good game. about to just chill out for the rest of the night and watch the rest of this game. kobe is a beast 7:39 PM May 23rd via web”

Dear Justin Bieber :

Thank you for updating me on your whereabouts and current activities. After receiving this, I could not possibly join you, so I presume this was not intended as an invitation. Perhaps you were bragging about where you were?

Sincerely,
RobbieRobtown

P.S. You are so right. Kobe is a beast, both in terms of his skillful athleticism, and his unusual definition of “consensual”. Or did you mean “Kobe beef is from a beast”? How colourful.

“both shows were nuts and it was so loud u couldnt even hear urself think…the energy was amazing and that is what it is all about. thank u! 10:36 AM May 22nd via web”

Oh no, thank U, Justin Bieber. Thank U. I wonder what it is like for U to hear Urself think? Does it sound like when a 20hp outboard motor falls off the boat and into the murky lakewater? Surely it produces as much exhaust and sputtering before it is forever extinguished…

“Headed to radio station NRW! Where are all my Oberhausen fans!? 2:20 AM May 21st via Twitter for BlackBerry®”

Have you checked Oberhausen?

“i think my head still hurts from running into that door…haha. only thing u can do in times like that is laugh at yourself…and laugh hard 3:07 PM May 20th via web”

Where to begin…

“just heard SOMEBODY TO LOVE remix with USHER on the radio!! Very cool. Had a dance party in the car. car next to us thought we were nuts. 7:20 PM May 23rd via web”

OMGZ! YOU ARE THE FIRST PERSON TO EVAR DO THAT! U R SO CRA-Z! God, how I wish my life was your life. That has never, ever, happened to me about twice a month since I got my license, and I never get caught singing or playing air guitar. Not even once! Oh impetuous youth!

May I just point out a pattern here? Note that most of these tweets are coming from late May. These are the breaking stories broadcast to infinity by the Bieber creature.

“Craig Sager is a trending topic. That dude rules!! I met him and his family on a flight. Great guy and best suit game ever!! haha 6:22 PM May 23rd via web”

“This just in: CRAIG SAGER’s suit tailor is CHUCK NORRIS. epic 6:24 PM May 23rd via web”

The unit identified as “Craig Sager” is a trending topic, or a human person? I have never met a trending topic, as a trending topic is A) an abstract concept and not the subject of a sentence and B) constructed from a noun in verb form. Does his “suit game” refer to the quality manufacture and tailoring of his suit, or simply to the monopoly board which he has stapled to his blazer? Can I presume his whimsical tailor only is coincidentally named “Chuck Norris”, and is not the once famous actor? DOES NOT COMPUTE.

“everyone go unfollow @dankanter for an hour then add him again hahahahahahhahahaha 5:34 AM May 20th via mobile web”

Okay…

“Bieber!!!!! http://twitpic.com/1pe543 6:46 AM May 20th via Twitpic”

It refers to itself in the third person, doesn’t it precious?

“Just left Planet Radio! Thanks to everyone there…now all the girls that skipped school…you should go back hahaha 2:59 AM May 20th via Twitter for BlackBerry®”

What’s your buddy Kobe up to? Yes, the beef one.

“Music is the universal language no matter the country we are born in or the color of our skin. Brings us all together – http://bit.ly/b20UsT 9:37 AM May 19th via web”

Justin, another popular universal language is language, look into one.

“@TheEllenShow Ellen you have serious swagger. haha. thanks for the love as always. see u soon 4:21 PM May 17th via web in reply to TheEllenShow”

Are you flirting with Ellen DeGeneres? We should talk.

“had dinner at this spot in Tokyo tonight and i swear ninjas served us…try telling me they dont exist…just try. stay out of the shadows 8:36 AM May 17th via web”

Okay, that is a joke, that is pretty funny. Racist, but funny.

“got to go to Sea World yesterday and see. Shamu made me believe and i got to make out with some Beluga Whales. good times 12:43 PM May 15th via web”

Shamu made you believe what? In the beauty of nature, or the horror of captivity? Or in the murderous intent of killer whales? Hey, Shamu, you had your chance, why did you waste it?

“excited for the SOMEBODY TO LOVE video…. 3:03 AM May 13th via web”

Mr. Bieber, A variation of this message appears on your twitter page approximately 73 times in the last 2 weeks. Is there something that you would like to promote?

“Let’s goooooooooooooooooooooooop 3:48 PM May 12th via Twittelator”

Let’s goop? What the fuck?

“Charice is amazing and a sweetheart too. I’m excited to get home tonight and watch the Oprah episode!!! 1:44 PM May 11th via mobile web”

Oh my god, so much about this is wrong. You are a 16 year old boy, are you genuinely excited to see the Oprah show? Oh, wait, are you on Oprah? Then who is Charice? Are those unrelated topics? Visit a library! They want to help!

“only CHUCK NORRIS can save us now…he is the only one still following all of us. haha 10:13 AM May 10th via web “

“looks like twitter is back to normal. CHUCK NORRIS must have saved us all once again. Thank you Chuck…Thank you 5:15 PM May 10th via web

You are 16. Have you even seen Chuck Norris? Who instructed you that it was fashionable to make references to Chuck Norris? News flash: they were incorrect.

“This fool fell asleep haha http://twitpic.com/1lzh18 11:22 PM May 7th via Echofon”

Allow me to explain. The attached picture shows a man who has fallen asleep. This is a close up photo, so I will assume this man is not a hobo. I will further assume, if you will all allow it, that since the entity known as “Bieber” has the time available to take this photo of a sleeping man, perhaps both he and this sleeping fellow were on a break. Far be it from me to suggest that one of your crew, back up dancers, musicians, writers, choreographers, handlers, marketers, or green grocers fell asleep because they were tired, and deserved a nap. No, whoever this “fool” is, as you have so aptly designated him, is clearly deserving of some kind of hilarious prank style punishment.

I refer you back to your May 23rd tweet, in which I instructed you on how to craft a joke. Since you could not have had a chance to read this information until today, but it seems you make frequent attempts at humour, and may even have the capacity for moderate success (see: racist ninjas), please allow me to give you a few more pointers:

The situation or “premise” here is that a man is sleeping. First, you must explain to us why it is inappropriate that he is sleeping, and how that is associated with you. Otherwise, you have stalked and illegally photographed a real human being, who just needed to catch, as you so eloquently put it, “some zzz”.

Next, for observational humour to be effective, you, or someone near you must be affected by this man’s slumbering. If his sleeping does not alter your life, immediate choices, or alternatives in any way, the fact that he is asleep is not funny.

Perhaps you find the concept of sleep amusing in and of itself. I assure you, Bieber Creature, you are in a unique minority in that regard.

Finally, if your humourous intent is to do something to this man, perhaps the following:

“loyaljessica about 16 hours ago : lol draw on his face”

Then post a photograph when you have carried out this masterwork of practical jokery. Or maybe you have something more insidious in mind, I know you’ve just been touring in Japan and that can “do things” to people, but whatever the case, if your intent is to do something to this sleeping man, if that is your cup of tea, it that is what floats your boat, if that is what teabags your roadie, then, please, do something to this man, and then and only then, photograph the result.
If you do not make a witty observation about this sleeping fellow, nor reveal to us how it has adversely affected the life of someone around you, nor indeed do anything to him in any way, then the entity known as Justin Bieber has no reason to write “haha.” NO RIGHT!

I know I’m a has-been curmudgeon, or more accurately, a never-been asshole, but are these truly the missives we wish shared far and wide? I believe it was Oscar Wilde who said “I just took a shit in Denver, and boy are my arms tired”, and he was a man who carefully selected his words.

Let my epitaph read “My last Tweet is 4 U dawg! L8Rs!”

RobbieRobTown

It is May 25th, the 33rd anniversary of the release of Star Wars, and in celebration of this momentous occasion…we are posting links to stuff we’ve already written.

Here is the link to 25 things Right with the Star Wars Universe…

and here is the link to 25 things WRONG with the Star Wars Universe

and here are our humble suggestions on what might have made a better Episode One

Bullseye this Womprat with your T-16

In further celebration of today…if your boss asks you to do something today…tell him\her in your whiniest voice that you were going to Toshee station to pick up some power converters.

June 15 is “I LIEK CHOCOLATE MILK!” day.

ON JuNe 15th everybOdy on the FUcking planet is going to change their facebook status to say “I LIEK CHOCOLATE MILK!”. because I goddamn said so.
Why are we having “I LIEK CHOCOLATE MILK!” day? Like you hAve anything else more fucking important to do with your life? Do you not like chocolate milk? I’m lactose intolerant, and evEn I like chocOlate milk. I even like mispeling simple wordsa so that’s also why we are, the fuck,  doing it. Or maybe it’s for charity or some shit, who are you to question me? It’s motherfucking “I LIEK CHOCOLATE MILK!” day on June 15th, and suCk my BaLls if you wanna complain, you asshatballsack.
It’s not even my joke you bunch of fuCking knobs. SoMeBody posted it on a comment feed, and another friend thought it was fuNny. And it is funny. iT’s some MEme or some shitting.  You make your fucking status say “I LIEK CHOCOLATE MILK!” for charity goddammit, because otherwise the children who have Alzheimers will DiE, and if not all of your friends dO it and pass it on then you will grow an extra ball, even the LADies, and you will have a ball more than you want, 3 or 1.
Fucking do it because it’s fun, you fucking suck you bunch of retarded squirrel fuckers, i hope you die from a tornado blowing you through a sandpaper factory, unless you fucking join in.
Are you too weak to make your status say “I LIEK CHOCOLATE MILK!” or some shit? Because you know what happens to wealkings? tHey get punched in their extra ball, HARD.
June 15th is motherfucking “I LIEK CHOCOLATE MILK!” day, you shits.

Our poll has closed, and we have discovered much about our poll-taking readers…

It seems that most of you prefer EITHER Pina Coladas, OR Getting Caught in the Rain, but very few of you like both. The Yes Pina, No Rain group takes the poll by a slim margin, and those who just want to get laid in the dark placed third. Oh, and by the way, IT WAS YOUR WIFE, you cheating bastard, and NEWSFLASH: She was ready to slut around on you as well.

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Take part in this week’s poll, over on the right there…

Recently, RobbieRobTown made a grant application to the Canadian Government for new works featuring “Stories of our Heritage”.  Rob felt that he should be able to include elements of his favourite themes in a historical context. He was incorrect in that regard. The grant application was rejected summarily.

A Prairie Tale

Cornelia Perseverance Downing threw the door of the outhouse wide, and looked out across a wild and ceaseless prairie. The young barley was just now high enough to be tousled by the same late spring winds which tugged at Cornelia’s skirts.  She hastened to readjust her Victorian garb. Green and naked, the barley wore no skirts, and would have laughed at Cornelia’s fussing, had it the voice to do so. “Ha!”, the barley would have said. “Haha to your manifold skirts!”

Cornelia looked at the chicken coop. It had been six long winters since its construction. It needed a proper white-washing this spring, and some portions of the rough hewn walls had to be replaced. She gave the briefest flicker of consideration for the effort involved in rounding up the chickens and keeping them out of the way while she repaired and painted the coop, but that was a matter for another time.

Still feeling fresh and light from a vigorous spring poop, Cornelia bounded down from the outhouse platform and strode confidently towards the stable. She was headed in to town to pick up her supplies. The mighty trans-Canadian railway had only recently been completed, and the station nearest her should have received her summer order by now.  It was still nearly 2 days journey to the station by horse, and there would be no assurance of lodging between her own land and the tracks to the north.  It was a lucky thing she had both the temerity for such a venture, and the regularity to have a really tremendous poop before departing.

A loyal servant of the Queen, Cornelia knew her lands served a dual purpose. Firstly, and obviously, her barley and her eggs would help to feed Her Majesties great Empire-  At least, the eggs of her chickens would. While fertile, her own eggs would feed no man. Secondly, and perhaps most importantly, by settling south of the railroad tracks, she was a kind of watchman, ever vigilant of the expansionist machinations of her  American neighbours.  She wondered if she would ever learn to approve of the Americans. It seemed only Christian to forgive their traitorous and irrational concerns about taxation-, but that was all over a century ago by now. Nonetheless, the mutterings from the border were filled with suggestion that lands in southern Canada were ripe for the taking. Or the picking. They were ripe, and stealable. Like a pie on a windowsill. Except pies don’t ripen. The lands, by the way, were the ripe things. Lands don’t ripen per se either, but they can be stolen. Well, they can be occupied. Anyway…

She snugged-up the harness on her horse, climbed into the wagon, and headed gradually north. She cast a wistful glance back at her simple homestead, the coop, the stables, her unadorned home. It troubled her to leave, not as much from fear for security, but more from pride. Her farm was a continuing source of pride for her, and she always felt she represented herself best to others when she could be standing on the land she worked.  What she could not always find the words for could speak for itself on her homestead.  She knew it was wrong to be prideful, but she permitted herself this one sin. For a woman to do the work she had done, in the name of God and Country, was a noble thing and worthy of what little praise she would ever receive.  Little else brought her as much pride, in fact only one thing did- her stunning digestive regularity.  She was a woman that could take a clockwork nine o’clock dump. Though her pocket watch was spring wound, she could set it by the arrival of the Express Steamer every morning.  Without fail, the mighty engine of the Big Brown emerged from the mountain tunnel and dropped off its majestic load at Dump Station. No robber could hold up that train, and incidentally no pirate would ever sail upstream. Her pantloads were the rhythm of the heartbeat of the commonwealth. She was regular.

She rode onwards across the fields, some fallow, some lush and verdant.  All around, the tenuous blooms of spring had begun to give way to the presumptuous growths of summer. She noted the canvas cover for her wagon had developed a tear, and that the wind was toying at a strip of loose fabric. She would have to fix that when she made camp tonight.

She found a spindly tree atop a small rise, and made her camp there for the night.  Just down the hill, if you could call it a hill, a stream ran slowly and lazily on its course to the Hudson bay- Or perhaps The Mississippi, from the way it meandered around the plains it could be anyone’s guess as to its eventual destination.  From distant headwaters, it flowed effortlessly towards some yet distant mouth, spilling silt into some vast delta, depositing a beach. Cornelia smiled to herself, as she saw her own body as metaphor for the land she lived on. Just like this stream, Cornelia would take the gifts of nature into herself, break them down through slow erosion, and spread her life-giving soil into the arms of nature, every morning at 8:55.

Cornelia set her horse to graze, and laid down for the night atop a rough woolen blanket. The cloudless sky transitioned from blue into a bruised purple. Every star could be seen, unobstructed by any city light, and each one glistened like a kernel of corn in a vast cosmic poo smeared across the public park washroom of infinity. Soon enough, she drifted into a blissful sleep.

*******

The dawn was pink, and  breakfast was cold. Cornelia hastily swallowed two handfuls of oat bran buds, knowing that if she didn’t make good time today, the Brown Steamer would derail and leave heavy skid marks. Her horse pooped without concern, letting tendrils of steam rise into the cool morning air, tickling the sky.

Gertrude,  Cornelia’s noble horse tamped the ground with one of her front hooves, sending a thud of vibration through the ground that reverberated into Cornelia’s bowels. The time had come. The inevitable Poop Harvest would come early this year,  and the short grass prairie offered no solitude, no delicateness, or decorum.

Cornelia walked a short way from her camp, and found a sufficient clump of grass. Squatting, she honoured the commonwealth with a reeking poop salute. When she finished, entwined in the still-rosy fingers of dawn, she faced the Eastward rising sun, and sang “God save the Queen”. A single tear tracked down her cheek. There was beauty in this land. Every turd in the path of progress was one that would someday cling to the shoe of of a great nation. Someday, somewhere, on this very same stretch of boundless prairie, someone would smell the metaphorical dung on their workboot, and smile.

The Correctness: Personals:

SWM seeks SF from space. Superheroes and Ninjas also welcome, or anyone who moves like a dancer in a slow motion hail of bullets/lasers. Ideally you are human, but if you are an alien in human form and would be willing to slum it with an earthling that would be good too.  Aliens particularly welcome if you were planning an invasion of earth, but fall in love with me because “you never thought you could feel this way before” and prevent the invasion force from destroying my backwater, meaningless planet. Perhaps you were confused and aroused by the sensations provided to you by your new carbon based form? Other aliens welcome:  Slave women from planets with nebulous/gaseous thought-entity overlords- I will be more than happy to tell you the answer to the eternal question “what is this thing called love?”.  Most non-humans from Original Series Star Trek welcome, but aliens from the rest of the Star Trek franchise are almost unanimously ugly.

Ideal first date is a life-threatening situation in which we become inextricably linked, and rely on each other like only two people fighting off the zombie apocalypse can- Non life threatening situations may cause you to second guess my attractiveness. Indian food an option.

My Likes: Rescuing the right lady from peril then being rescued back. Showing you the meaning of “this thing called love”. Not having my planet destroyed. Seducing you into a revolution against you nebulous/gaseous thought-entity overlords.  Skiing.

My Dislikes: Too much dairy. Becoming a zombie/alien. Overbearing parents, or thought-entities who turn out to be children themselves, and are taken away from our planet after toying with our mortality, explaining they “only wanted to play”. Being killed in my sleep.

Contact me here. No psychos, unless you have been altered by a government agency to become a killing machine, and are willing to go on an adventure to find and destroy your makers, or do couples therapy.  OK with dramatic scene in which you are about to murder me, and I have to talk you out of your cruel assassin mindset until you Put. Down. The. Gun.  Preferably only once, see dislikes above.

Our recent poll: “So, What’s your deal?”, led some interesting conclusions…

And here are the results…

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Apparently, the majority of you either didn’t want to talk about it, just weren’t sure, or were hungry. And that’s okay. A few you grew downright hostile when we asked.

This week’s poll is up (to your right there on that sidebar dealie), and we ask you “Do you like Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain?”