Friday, February 08, 2008

Everybody knows a 90-year-old smoker: Smoke Nazis, your days are numbered.

The ice age currently upon us is breeding a slow, simmering resentment out this way.

One has gloomy thoughts of resentment, against one's former spouse, one' long-lost mistress, one's dog.

Poor Gulliver, once our family dog, scapegoat for the family, slightly depressed, because somehow all the dreck and drudge of our nutty tribe seemed somehow to fall on him. "Gulliver! You shat on the rug again!"
Gulliver had done no such thing.
He would give the accuser that "F*ck- off and leave me alone" look.
"And take that Shell Vapona flea collar off me. It's driving me to neuroticism. It was designed to kill Japanese, and now it's killing me."

Wonky family. Wonky dog.

I would take Gulliver for a walk. "Gulliver!" I would yell when he'd get off his leash.

A woman walking her dog in the same park, piped up and said, "' Gulliver'. What a stupid name for a dog."

"Well, yeah, how about your dog then?"
She curbed her little boxer.
"Come along, Batman."

There is going to be snow in Ontario and uppper New York State for the next seven days.

I am out of liquor and eyeing the Listerine, which gives you wonderful breath, but leaves you tighter than a tick.
I am smoking Reservation cigarettes of almost- nothing a carton-- and I swear there is a plot to "off" all us ofays through crummy cigarettes, probably made from table scrapings and dry weeds in China.
That's because to buy a pack of cigarettes legally today is to take out a mortgage.
I am so tired of those do-gooders, financed by my tax dollars and Pfizer to tell us all to butt out.
I wish they would get a job and stop using my tax dollars as their petty tyranny over poor hapless users of a legal product you can't use anywhere! This is not only a meal ticket for the prohibitionists, it is starting to get past the end of my nose. Says John Stuart Mill: "Do what you want. Make a fist if you want to, but don't get it past the end of my nose."
They are, fat bastards on my tax money, and Pfizer's getting past the end of my nose.
And all the weasel journalists go right along with this fascism.
Hitler was a a livid anti-smoker.
After his suicide, they found his skull was a bright yellow from all that shitty microbiotic food he was eating.
Appparently, his farts were so vile that he could easily clear out a room full of Officier Kommand, Wermacht.
Maps and charts flying. People climbing the walls. Himmel! Scheissegemacht!

Bad beer and crummy cigarettes.

Some say I might be spoiled sitting here in my Seniors' palace, making vitriolic pronouncements.

Well let me tell ya somethin'.
I have given up the food bank and have resorted to dumpster diving, competing with Bushy the Bum for empty beerbotles fer to finance my beer. It is small wonder, that in America at last, the Bush administration has gotten together with the Democrats to finally offer each one of us badly used pensioners a $400 boost, just once, and I wish our own Conservatives would do something sane like that for a change. Nah. They want to buy more tanks.
They won't buy the helicopters our military needs. They buy tanks from Germany.
You know what happened with the last Panzer Division.
You know at last that the Germans have all kinds of money to pay off our stupid politicians and set up a regime of Habsburgs. Canada is only now beginning to realize. Dumpkopf Kanadieschen. Stunned bastards given a country by the Brits and now not knowing what to do with it and its riches. Sell to the U.S. Sell to Germany. "Don't you know Canada is for sale?"
A father's beautiful gift smashed by a stupid child.

Cheery, no?

We are going to have another election here.
"Beware," says the sage, when politicians get too flashy, too full of pizzaz.

Well, Liberal leader Stephane Dion is the farthest thing from flashy.

On the face of it, dumb as a doorknob.
Hail Stephane Dion! I say
He really is the kind of leader we need now.

Dipstick. But he might have a plan.

Surely can do no harm. Maybe get us out of Afghanistan.

Allors Stephane!

You will do no harm.

As in the rock song,
Politics ain't workin'

I ain't workin'.

I tried to get a job as a pizza delivery man, they looked at my wizened face and said, "We need a young guy.,"
I told the owner I may be long in the tooth, but he seems to have this sweet tooth for young guys.
"And what are you doing swatting flies with the dishrag?"

And yet and yet. There is a hint of spring in the air.
I looked out at my lilacs-- and holy sprig! There are buds on the branches. Buds! Right in the middle of the ice pack.

Just a taste of the new season.

And in spite of the bitter exhaustions and rheumations of an old man,

This bud's for you.

And light up and relax.



Donnetta Lee said...

Waiting, waiting for spring. The orchid my son gave me four years ago for Mother's Day just blossomed out with 4 flowers. Gives me hope.

ivan said...


The orchid.

What an amazing portent!

Something's up for sure.

Lana Gramlich said...

I love the gif! Reminds me of billboard art someone e-mailed me once;

Republicans for a Dissent-Free Theocracy

Smoke on, bud. ;)

ivan said...


Thanks. I think I stle the gif from
Rigorous Intuition, a very brainy conspiracy site.

Don't know if the problem is my computer or your comment space.
Frustrating...But I see other people are getting through fine.

Yeah. Republicans. McCain a fine man some years ago. Wha' hoppen?
He sounds exactly like Bush or Rummy now. Mitt Rummy?

the walking man said...

One of my sons was with a vegetarian girlfriend for a time and you always were able to tell who it was that was especially bad in the car at this time of year having to decide whether to bear the stench or freeze your ass off by opening a window in the five degree temperatures at 100km an hour.

And same said person would harrumph and cough if I dared light a cigarette to cover the stink. But on retrospective consideration it was lucky I didn't smoke because lighting an open flame in the smell of the anti-cigarette naziette's stench because it could have blown the car apart from the methane fumes.

Never the less though Ivan; I for one agree, quit taxing my cigarettes and someone else's booze because the stolen tax money is going to the general population not to the care of us addicts.

From previous reports it wasn't the tooth I had garnered you were long in but I guess that is for another post.

And yes our dog has that same "fuck off and leave me alone" look, usually reserved for when she is disturbed during her fifteen hour naps.

You're also correct in saying we want to buy Canada from your government but not right now because the dollar is at parity with the dollar...we'll buy more when it sinks back to .60(US) for 1(US).

1for1 just doesn't seem right to us older people who grew up in a border city. But if Canada wants a fair trade, you all can probably get a deal on buying Detroit from the state of Michigan.

If I ever go to Canada again, I'll let you know beforehand and I'll buy you a few cartons and quarts at the duty free shop. I am sure Newmarket is somewhere near Mississauga...which would be the likely destination.

But I have no inclination towards getting a passport anytime soon...maybe I'll send my son who has a passport after he reconciles with his vegan girlfriend.



ivan said...


I think I had once pigeonholed you in a category of "crazy bastard", but from your respsonse here, this is certainly far from the case.
You've obviously read my essay all the way through and your observations are pointed and sometimes brilliant and hilarious.
I especially like the anecdote of the flatulent girlfriend.
Dare one say it? I can't match a story like that.
My weakness in metaphor can only be demonstrated through the observation that she certainly was a gas.

There was a story circulating around the barracks when I was in the Air Force that airmen used to entertain each other after a night of heavy drinking by lighting each other's farts with a Bic Butane...I have never personally witnessed such a a startling example of applied chemistry.
Your familiarity with Mississauga. Yep. Newmarket is almost next door.
Yes, if you can ever visit, do.
Seems some of my past dutchesses want to visit as well, and maybe we could make a party out of it...The airport is on the edge of Mississauga!
Strange law of the universe. Whenever Ivan hasn't got a pit to hiss in, ladies out of the past want to see him.
When I'm flush, no one seems to want me.
Anyway, it seems you are on the mend. Your writing is certainly brightening right up, as I read in your blog.
Starting to write as well as an old Russkie. Heh.

Keep the faith and uphold the right!

Charles Gramlich said...

Never been a smoker really, although I don't mind a cigar once in a while. These days I can't even drink much beer. Maybe I should try the listerine. Might agree with my constitution better. Especially the mint variety.

Inside our hands, outside our hearts said...

Hello Ivan,

I do not drink often, well, not more than a glass every so often and I haven't smoked in forever. But as I read your post I felt anger, not at you, but at the stupidity of the world and those in it. Especially those that are so within themselves, oh well, what does it matter. I am ranting, coming back to my favorite spot and ranting. Ahh ... the comforts of home.

Soft love,

Middle Ditch said...

Same here!!! :-D

ivan said...


Yeah, at around fifty, beer seems to taste like horse pee.
As for the acrid taste of Listerine, I like Scope, because it has that peppermint taste. Hey.

ivan said...


Sounds like you and I should hang around together. Heh.

Home gal.

Yes, the money-hungry world is stupid and insensitive.

Inside our hands, outside our hearts said...


Men or those that seem to want to be around me are insensitive. I am everything and because I am, I am denied the very thing I live to write about.


Josie said...

"On the face of it, dumb as a doorknob. Hail Stephane Dion! I say he really is the kind of leader we need now."

Oh, Ivan, say it isn't so. The last thing we need is another French Canadian Prime Minister. Puhleeeze!!! And he is definitely NOT a leader. It's not worth sacrificing our country - yet again - just for some beer and cigarettes.

Have you looked into those writer's grants yet?

ivan said...


There was a period in my middle-twenties when I felt the way you do,in my case, about the ladies.
Everybody seemed to be robbing me of the ladies.
Uh, shortly afterward, I got married.

ivan said...

Oh, I kind of like the noble grenoire.

Writers' grants?
It has finally dawned on me that I should take a more logica approache to those.
CBC says you first get the producer, do a dummy take of the program--and then you apply for the grant?...Sounds like an awful lot of work if you're writing CBC drama or series.
There is, however a chance of a straight writer's grant from Univesity of Alberta. I am in communication with them.

Inside our hands, outside our hearts said...


I am not in my middle twenties, can't say I would want to be either. However, I use to think men liked intelligent women, but really they are scared of them. Why? What kind of reasoning goes into that sort of thinking? I cannot honestly believe a man would rather be with a woman that can barely write a complete sentence, much less, speak one. It just frustrates me. Perhaps I should play dumb?

Oh and the married thing, umm no! Not a chance in hell!...smiles

soft love,

ivan said...

My last (uh) dutchess was kind of dim.

We would watch an English play where somebody made cucumber sandwitches and she wanted to go right out into the lobby and make some too...Words and concepts excited her, I suppose.
We went home and had cucumber sandwiches. Doesn't everybody?

No, I can't stand being around a woman who is not quick.

But then there is my friend the sadist, who says he likes intelligent women because he can say really cutting things to them--and they get it!

Oh what the hell.

Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet
Eating her curds and whey

Along came a spider
Who sat down beside her.
and said,
Hey, whatcha got in the bowl, bitch?


Inside our hands, outside our hearts said...

LMAO! Okay, I got your bowl Ivan and what is in it might not be edible lol.

You are insane, but thats why this is home!


ea monroe said...

Wow. My orchid that hasn't bloomed in two years just put out four flower buds, too! Donnetta and I have been haunting each other! ~Liz

PS, Ivan. You need to go smoke a joint with the koala in a tree. He's over at Josie's place!

ivan said...


I've got a feeling it's not cucumber.

ivan said...


I read it.

Says the koala,

"Come-a Come-a Chameleon
You come and go..."

Leapin' Lizards!

Ever see a lizard do the Hucklebuck?...I think there is one in the Arizona desert.
But in Australia?

But then the lizard becomes a big, fat crocodile.

Tie me crocodile down, sport!

That's gotta be good sh*t!

But I think the croc is doing the hucklebuck 'cause he can't get
any angel dust.

I now know why crocodiles sleep with their moths open.
Waitin' for the doorman.

Baited breath.

It's a terrible thing to see, I tell ya.

Yeah, yeah. You're going to ask, "What are you on?

Inside our hands, outside our hearts said...


Well, it certainly is not green! LMAO.


ivan said...

Smoking dope gives you the munchies.

Poor Kermit!

Leapin' lizards!

ivan said...


Saturday Night LIve coming on any minute now.

Hope it's the spoof on Nancy Pelosi.
Love that Kristen Wiig!

the walking man said...

Back in the sophomoric years of being a HS sophomore, there was a group of tough guys who liked to light their own farts for fun and amusement.

One day as the story goes, an amature fart lighter lay back on his bed with his tighty whitey's stretched across over his bottom, knees drawn up to his chest, as he reached below with his Bic to light the next gaseous discharge.

Like a rocket counting down for blast off, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, he lit the lighter , 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, PHLLLLPHHHT!! a terribly large flame erupted from his rectum and his underpants exploded in fire along with the laughter of his friends.

Which was funnier; five foot fireball coming out a 14 yr olds ass or a 14 year old running around the house trying to douse his afire, underwear?

I guess he didn't know you had to remove the cover from a rocket launcher before you shot the weapon.



ivan said...


Just about killed him.