Sunday, February 17, 2008

Blogging the Unbloggable--Like Really! Country Joe and the Fish

The first thing I do in the morning is open my eyes to see if my cigrette is drawing properly, run to the mirror to see if I've lost any more hair (Hey, I've still got some!) and then come out of the washroom with the sense that I'd forgotten something.
Guess what I forgot. Heh. You do that too?

Says the Newfie: "You not feeling yourself? It was a nasty habit anyway."

Another "nasty habit" is blogging.

I can not fully wake up, nor even justify my existence if I don't blog every day.
This practice is extremely addictive, probably harmful to your health, and certainly a tax on the old brain. It does seem to take something away from the libido, however.

But you wouldn't want to have it any other way, would you.

So here am I tap-tap-tapping away while the world is already outfitted in bib and lunchbucket trying to pry a dollar out of somewhere.

"Writing is an elitist passtime," says the old girlfriend, watching me type.
"The use of good english is elitist."

Poor woman. String of losers for boyfriends...What am I doing here?--Ah, but they were beautiful losers.
Drugged out guitar players, PhD's already fried on drugs by 34, a taxi driver worried about being gay.

"Here all this time, I'd been reading all your columns. Pasting them up on my bedroom wall. I wanted to get you. Now that I've got you, I'm not sure I want you."

There had to be a reason.

I had met one of her old boyfriends, as strange luck would have it, in the washroom of the Grey Goat, my favourite watering hole.

"Rosie, no wonder you liked him. The guy is hung like a pony. Seems to target the stall first, then he slowly walks toward it. I almost stepped on it"!

"How is Frank?" I heard her say.

Blind Melon Chitlin!

I was much troubled.

Maybe I should have answered that bit of spam I just got. "Increase its size. Try MegaDick."

Well, I had offered, in my best Winnipeg Rounder brogue, "I ain't deep, but I'm fancy...Just like downtown!"

"Uptown manners in downtown Newmarket" is all she would say. "You write good. You write fancy.
"But in the bedroom...Have you thought of turning gay?"

I am miffed. All this time trying to be king and she thinks I might be turning into a Queen.
"Give my regards to Frank next time you see him.

I come back with a remark the pre-Sixties crowd would consider "effeminate".

"All homosexuals have abnormally large penises."

"I'm not sure Frank was gay," she winked.

Ah, what can you do when you live in a shoe?...Like size Seven. Oh, be truthful. Six. Maybe.

Perhaps Viagra.

As is the case with all problems, one needs to take a trip to clear the jogjam.

I went to Kensington Market in Toronto, where the Portuguese sell all that wonderful fish.

Bought a red snapper, had it carfully wrapped, though there was a fishy smell in the car. I took the fish "home to Liza."

We fried the snapper right at suppertime.


Seems that evening, I had an erection the size the size of the CN Tower.

Was it really all that simple?

"Oh yes," she said, with a slight giggle. "
You smell like Snapper, but were you ever good.

No need for MegaDick.

Nature has a way!



Anonymous said...

Ivan, as long as your mind is as sharp as your words portray it as, you are far from senile.

I guess Wordpress operates the same ways that blogger does--only it's not a bunch of electronic codes that have been patched and re-patched together over a ten or twelve year period of time. Some of the pages I saw look boring and are very basic, but others have been customized to the max. You can easily create side bars and headers to put your novels in. And then you can have your old Ivan IDs from here to check into to comment with.

On my sidebar, there's an Australian fellow called Gingatao, or Paul S, who is somewhere between yours and my age who has a WP blog with all kinds of customizations. And he's a really good writer, very Beat-like. He told me that there are even easier setups to have even more than he has, but he wanted it to be a jumble so people would explore it. Method and madness coming together as one.

Me? Until the day blogger locks me out of my own website, I'll be here. They almost pissed me off with shrinking my header (oh no! ;) said...


Just got a hit from the Toronto Star. Something about writing grade level for journalism students.
Egad, I'm fairly happy with my style, typos and all, but I fear the content may make some students blanch.
C+ for possible soft porn? :)

Lana Gramlich said...

Wow...what a photo! said...


I picked it up out of Field and Stream, "Catfish: Catching flatheads by hand in Mississippi's Yazoo River."

The hookless fisherman looked quite a lot like me, so I thought I'd put the photo up.

Inside our hands, outside our hearts said...

::shakes head:: oh Ivan. I have been sick for days and yet I come here as soon as I feel so I now post and find this... you are the strangest but the most interesting man.

T said...


All feathers. Like an emu.

Charles Gramlich said...

So the use of good English is elitist eh? Well how about if you were to say. "Fuck you," to that. "Fuck you is good English, I believe. said...


Strangely, there are people who feel that way. Maybe it's because they are dropouts and still harbour a slow, seething resentment toward teachers or former teachers.

That same woman saw me on television where I was making a stump speech to run for mayor.
She had said, "You were so nervous...I could have done better."

"Fine," I had said. "You
face the klieg lights, the cameras and an unseen crowd--and see if you're not nervous."

I do believe the lady was something of a control freak.
Certainly critical.

Doubting Thomas said...

Catching fish by hand is an old Scottish skill that came about when carrying your tackle (hmmm...) on somebody else's private stream would earn you a dose of buckshot in the legs, administered by the ghillie.

Good English...Not in any of the present day bird cage liners I read. What happened to proofreaders, Ivan? I recoil when I see typos. Elitist. Nobody cares about finely crafted prose any more. (Sigh) said...


Guess the lairds guarded their property jealously.
Same with the earls in North of England...but the kids would poach nevertheless.

Yep. In writing, it's content and hard information over style.

The magic is vanishing.

BTW Aaron Braaten says he's a bit lonesome over at GRANDINITE...Go say somthing on his page. He might appreciate it, even from Doubting Thomas. Heh. said...


Guess the lairds guarded their property jealously.
Same with the earls in North of England...but the kids would poach nevertheless.

Yep. In writing, it's content and hard information over style.

The magic is vanishing.

BTW Aaron Braaten says he's a bit lonesome over at GRANDINITE...Go say somthing on his page. He might appreciate it, even from Doubting Thomas. Heh. said...


Google brain fart; double printing.
So solly.

the walking man said...

Two fellows left the pub and as they were crossing the train bridge to go home they decided they needed to urinate. They whipped out the old henry's and let go, the shorter of the two said "man this water is pretty damn cold" to which the other replied "Yeah and deep too."

Guess they should have been thankful there were no snappers in the river.



I used good english by writing urinate instead of piss, eh? said...


Heh heh.

All the worse if they were peeing in a bayou full of alligators...or a forest full of cannibals.

Yes, good english.

When I had big bucks the dentist would periodically ask me to expectorate.
When I lost the money, he'd asked me to spit. :) said...

p.s. to the Walking Man:

Hope those wacky doctors got your medication straightened out so you can produce more good blgs. I have found in the past that medication can really slow you down.

I was going to produce a new blog today, but external circumstances are a bit too pressing: I was within $65 of my upper limit on my Mastercard and some Madrechingador hacked in and took the $65 anyway...Have to make amends, make the round, the bank, the phone calls to Mastercharge.
Reality and circumstances always get in the way of, uh,

ea monroe said...

Okie Noodling (film documentary) has a colorful subculture as a "rural sport." You might've seen it on PBS. (I think the Flaming Lips did some of the music.)

"Noodlers are a dying breed -- not a lot a people want to stick their hand up a hole and get bit by something." - Jerry "Catfish" Rider

;-) ~Liz

TomCat said...

Maybe I should have answered that bit of spam I just got. "Increase its size. Try MegaDick."

John McCain tried that. He got 6" taller.

Monique said...

That first line of anonymous says it all. And so does Charles' comment, I wholly agree with that. We have a saying in Holland "The best seafarers are standing on the beach" Does that make sense?

I like the name snappers. LOL and Hug, you are a wonderful man and my daughter (bless her) insisted that I should be on facebook and she opened one for me (help) with a photograph of me (yikes, who's that old bat!). said...


I'm all for noodling! :) said...


Hate to say it, but even some Republicans have been describing Sen McCain as "MegaDick".
They don't seem to like his George Bush militaristic attitude. said...


Thank you! Makes my day.

I will look for you on Facebook.

I just got on it myself, though I'm not sure how you'll find me.

Type in "Ivan Prokopchuk", I guess. said...

This just in:

"One of the best things you can do for your libido--and overall health--is add fish oil to your diet. The easiest way is through pill form...but you should consult with a nutritionist or a heal-care practitioner beforehand," says Dr. Yvonne K. Fullbright.

"Fish oil impacts your doamine levels in the brain, it raises it.
"Dopamine helps stimulate the release of testosterone in your body and this is the hormone that charges sexual desire for men and women.
"Incorporating salmon or tuna in yur regular diet can also help.

For those who don''t care for fish, Fulbright recomments wild game, poultry, freerange beef, and for vegetarians, avocado.

--Ann-Marie Colocino
Metro Toronto News

Hey, how about Catfish and Snapper? said...

sh'd read "dopamine" and "your".

--My typing is like my lovemaking:
Everything goes in but the accuracy.

Anonymous said...


I see you have "groupies" now.

Well, I don't want to be a groupie.
I want to be a grouper.

Just got a glamorous job in government; hope I don' Fuck it up.
Come to Michigan!


benjibopper said...

i had to cancel my new mail-order cock after that woman in hali got busted for having hens in her yard. apparently they attract rats. all this time i blamed the harbour for my inadequacies. said...

Fox in the henhouse!

Hic Nobis.

Don't know about you, but I'm still drunk.

And so is the chicken.

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