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Saturday, August 20, 2005

Canada Day

Once a year, I glance at my calender and see "Canada Day" printed very tiny on...well, I don't remember what specific day.

The point is...I didn't even know what the hell Canada Day is.

So I looked it up.

Apparently it is a day to celebrate Canada. How lame. We don't have "America Day". We do have Independence Day, but that is commemorating a vigorous ass-beating. Always cause for celebration.

Canada was formed by an agreement. An agreement! How....pussy.

I decided to go to the source...the website of the Canadian Government.

They have a little webform for comments/questions. I asked the following:

Date: 7/30/05
I am an American so I don't really know this stuff. But what is Canada Day? It keeps showing up on my calender.
When and how did Canada become "Canada"?
Thanks for your time.

My favorite part is after you enter your comments/questions and the form says "Our service standard is to respond within one Canadian business day." Is a Canadian Business day longer or shorter than say...anyone else's business day?

I don't know how long a Canadian business day is, but I do know that no one ever wrote me back.

Well, I did receive an email, but it appears to be a basic form-mail reply.

Date: 8/3/05
Information on the history of Canada Day is accessible from the "Citizenship and Identity" section of the Canadian Heritage Web site at the following URL:
Canada Day

Information on Canadian history is accessible from the "Towards Confederation" section of Library and Archives Canada's Canadian Confederation Web site at the following URL:
Towards Confederation

Links to information on Canadian history are accessible from the "About Canada" section of the Canada Site at the following URL:
About Canada

We hope this information is helpful to you.

Now while it was pretty cool to get an email from an actual government (one that wasn't threatening me with serious jail time), it still didn't give me a whole lot of new information.

I did, however, learn that Canada Day happens on July 1st.

I was hoping for something a wee bit more personal and informative, but I guess I'm going to go ahead and declare that Canada Day doesn't suck as much ass as I initially thought.

I am, however, still pissed about Celine Dion. And Anne Murray. And Sarah McLachlan. Very angry about Barenaked Ladies.

I don't mind so much about Pamela Anderson, though. We will go ahead and keep her.

Go Canada!

Canada Day - (Tentative) Rating: C-

Friday, August 19, 2005

Women: A Review

Women. We've all seen them. Some of us have dated them. Others actually are one of them.

A few of us have married one of them. Some have married more than one of them. But those are polygamists. We will talk about them some other time.

So what is the deal with women? Seriously. Is it a mental imbalance? Is it their fault they just plain make no damn sense?

They lie. Usually not about something huge...like you won't be fifteen years into your marriage before you discover that her real name is Javier Sanchez. Nothing like that. Just the little stuff. A lot.

For instance, when you start dating a girl, they will often ask you how many women you have been with. Seriously...don't answer. You don't even want to be having this conversation. She will give you a relatively low number. But as time goes on...she will let new intel slip. You'll be like "Hey. I don't remember you mentioning this guy before". Her answer? "I don't count him."

Don't count him?

Of course, it's perfectly logical to her to just arbitrarily rewrite her own sexual history. She slept with that guy in April and everyone knows that month doesn't count (or whatever other bullshit loophole she created for herself). If you tried that? You would just be a liar. And she will never ever let you forget it.

Women cheat. It is pretty much impossible to be playing a game with a woman and leave for a moment (restroom, phone, etc.) without having her immediately begin cheating her ass off. She will look at your cards, move the chess pieces around, keep rethrowing her darts until she gets the score she wants, etc. It's probably not her fault...she is just inherently evil.

Not evil, you say? How about this classic number: how many activities in life has your average woman gotten out of by claiming it was "that time of the month"? Shitloads, my friend. Shitloads. If you don't believe it...you are just being naive.

Plus, they get to cry their way out of everything. Speeding ticket? Tears a-flowing. Suddenly...no ticket. Seriously, guys...try that one. Let's see how well it works for you. You are going to look really cool when they take your ass downtown and throw you in a cell with tear-stained cheeks.

I think this is my favorite: the Jedi Mindtrick. They all know it. A woman fucks up. I mean...she is straight up, dead in the wrong. You are pissed. You start telling her how she shouldn't have done what she did. Now the tears begin. Slowly at first...then the barrage of salty effluence. Ten minutes later, somehow you are apologizing and she is actually forgiving you. As you walk away, there is a small tingle in the back of your head. Deep down you know something just happened. Also...a small piece of your soul just died.

Granted....they are really attractive. And sure...they can make you feel all manly and important from time to time. Sure...they feel neat.

But is it worth it? Really?

Yep...I'm sleeping on the couch tonight. And for the foreseeable future.

The revolution begins on my couch.

Women - Rating: D-

Tuesday, August 9, 2005

An Autobiography: Mostly Untrue

My twin brother, Sean, and I were born in the autumn. February of 1976. Normally, February falls in the winter, but this year it was still autumn. At least, that is what our mother always told us.

Sean, having the unfortunate distinction of being completely imaginary, died on our fourth birthday. The funeral was beautiful, yet also largely imaginary.

Sean often spoke of his desire to be a fireman. Being primarily chimerical, he also had wings and could breathe fire. Odd that a firebreather would want to devote his career aspirations towards dowsing flames. Sean was interesting like that.

Following in his fanciful footsteps, I decided to become a doctor. But being only five and completely devoid of education, that dream died rather quickly.

After that, my career goals were few but powerful. I wanted to be Zorro for a brief period, but not having being Hispanic and having never wielded a sword, I could only take that dream so far. Next, I thought being Batman would be rather fun. Of course, having two living parents no large fortune and a house with a basement slightly less than one-sixteenth of the Batcave...my credentials were woefully lacking.

Putting those childish dreams aside, I set forth to write comedy. My progress was slowed by the fact that I didn't attain any notable degree of literacy until I was nineteen. And, I wasn't particularly funny. But that didn't stop me. No, sir.

What stopped me was that nobody was hiring me.

Still, I pressed on. Eventually, with the assistance of a friend, I built Big Damn Funny.

In between all that, I learned to eat; dress myself; finished high school; learned to drive; got laid; grew my hair long; cut my hair short; grew a beard; shaved; participated in fisticuffs once or seventeen times; purchased some tattoos; applied said tattoos; eventually got real tattoos; amongst other things.

And still I am only twenty-two. At least, that is what I tell people so my feeble accomplishments will seem greater.

Also, I have two dogs.

A Really Good Prank

I always thought that the best prank in the world would be to fool someone into thinking that a great deal of time had passed, even though it hadn’t.

The next time a buddy of yours is hospitalized with routine surgery, while he is still sleeping off the effects of the anesthesia, shave some male pattern baldness on his head. Now, powder your hair to make it look gray.

When he awakens, tell him he slipped into a coma for fifteen years.

Tell him the following:

You have married his girlfriend. She needed a shoulder to cry on. Shit happens.

His parents died ten years earlier. They missed him terribly.

M.C. Hammer is now the governor of your state.

Arnold Schwarzenegger is now President.

World War Three was a bitch.

Canada annexed us.

(At this point, it might add some flavor to hand him a mirror to see his own balding head.)

George Lucas has made four new Star Wars films. These ones are actually good.

Mars attacked three years earlier. We fought them off. It turned out that water made them melt.

The new National Anthem is Danke Schoen.

Now yell "Surprise!"

Tell him you were just fucking with him. He’ll probably laugh.

Monday, August 8, 2005

15 Ways To Fuck Up Your Life

1. Tell your wife she is fat. Repeatedly.

2. Purchase two dogs. Trust me. That should do it.

3. Find the biggest guy you can and call him a pussy. Repeatedly.

4. Join a cult.

5. Develop a heroin habit.

6. Become a Scientologist and then go on Oprah and tell everyone about your new relationship. Be sure to bounce around a great deal. Punch the floor if necessary.

7. Become asexual.

8. Become a eunuch.

9. Develop dementia.

10. Grow a second head.

11. Grow a third head. (you must complete the previous suggestion first)

12. Rain repeated blows down upon your skull until you lose your faculty for language.

13. Stop paying taxes.

14. Take up bestiality.

15. Set a goal for yourself and attempt to attain it. Like defying gravity.

Saturday, August 6, 2005

TV Shows We'd Like To See

Television has become a mundane and mindnumbingly stupid medium of entertainment. We here at Big Damn Funny have come up with some suggestions to revitalize and reinvigorate television.

Shows We'd Like To See: Malcolm X Edition

Malcolm X in the Middle - Beginning next season, Malcolm in the Middle changes tone. A new story arc unfolds as young Malcolm gets caught selling marijuana to the other kids in his class. He is sentenced to two years in a juvenile institution. While serving his time, Malcolm discovers the teachings of the Honorable Elijah Muhammad. Upon his release, Malcolm decides to drop his "slave name" and will be henceforth known as Malcolm X.

Malcolm X Files - Malcolm is an agent in the Euro-centric and racist FBI.. He slowly uncovers evidence about a global conspiracy involving...white people. Armed with his new found evidence, Malcolm joins with his partner Foxy Scully, a brash young black woman who is skeptical of Malcolm's beliefs, to take on "the man".

Malcolm X-Men - Based loosely on the hit film "X-Men", Malcolm X-Men is the story of genetically superior members of the Nation of Islam. These Muslims are gifted with mutant powers. Led by their teacher Professor Malcolm X, the mightiest telepath in the world, we follow the trials and tribulations as the gifted young Muslims learn to use their powers in the fight against "Whitey". Starring Malcolm X, Malcolm Jamal-Warner, Malcolm McDowell, and John Malkovich (X).

Malcolm American History X 101 - Malcolm X takes a position teaching American History in an urban high school. There he...um...er...shit! We ran out of ideas. Sorry.

Shows We'd Like To See : Saturday Morning Edition

The Family Values Guy - In response to the protests about the vulgarity of it's "The Family Guy", FOX premieres "The Family Values Guy". Peter is a loving father, member of the NRA, God-fearing Christian man, and avid pro-life protestor. His wife, Lois, is a homemaker who fears and respects her man. Chris and Meg are away doing missionary work in Africa helping convert the dirty heathens. Stewie has developed stigmata and has begun to show other messianic characteristics.

Boogie Nights: The Animated Series - Follow the ups and downs of a Porn-magnate as he builds his empire of sin. Delight in the decadence of twenty years in the pornography industry. Watch Amber Waves fight cocaine addiction and fight for custody of her children. Gasp in awe as Rollergirl deep throats the world. Admire the length and girth of Dirk Diggler's enormous penis. All in glorious, albeit inexpensive, chinese animation.

Fight Club: The Animated Series - We have no real idea how you could translate this film into animated format. But man, would that whip ass, eh?

Shows We'd Like To See : Reality-Based Television

Cannibal - What's more exciting than people trapped on an island? What's even more exciting than a group of pampered whiners all trapped in a house together? I'll tell you what….a bunch of pampered whiners on an island where there is no food or water for miles. The only way to survive is via cannibalism. The last man (or woman, though we doubt that) standing wins $50,000 and is free of prosecution.

Bar Fight - Fifteen contestant are forced to imbibe 10 shots of hard alcohol in 20 minutes. Then the fighting commences. Last man standing wins the cash...which will probably barely cover the medical expenses incurred.

Survivor: Eye of the Tiger - Five people are chosen to spend a month together in a compact listening booth….which plays Survivors' music 24 hours a day. The last person left alive, and sane, wins.

Survivor: Hard Time - One lucky individual is chosen to spend three months in general population of a Federal penitentiary. Watch for the shower cams. Packing will be had.

Friday, August 5, 2005

Commencement Speech

I stand here today, looking out at your bright shining faces. Eager to attack the world. Itching to make your mark on history.

I'm honored, and frankly a tad puzzled that I was asked to speak to you today. But none-the-less, I will share whatever wisdom I have.

Soup is bullshit.

It’s liquid. Liquid in a bowl. That’s not a meal. To call it anything other than a beverage in a bowl is complete and utter bullshit.

Don't let anyone try and argue that some soups have potatoes and whatnot in it. I don’t care what shit you put in it, it is still predominately liquid. You put stuff in a smoothie, does that make it a meal? No, it’s a fucking beverage. Don’t let those bastards at Campbell’s con you. It isn’t a meal.

Mimes aren't funny. They aren't even talented. If you can't entertain by talking, you can't entertain.

The only people worse than mimes are those assholes standing on the street pretending to be statues. And people who like soup. They are assholes, too.

I can't think of one time that I regret telling someone to go fuck himself.

If you get the chance to have some good afternoon nookie, a telemarketer will ruin it.

If a woman laughs at your dumbass jokes, thinks you are "cute" when you do something idiotic, and doesn't mind when you get into fights...marry her.

When your friends keep asking you to do "that one funny thing", they aren't laughing with you. They are laughing at you.

I have been fired from quite a few jobs. I was right every single time. Fuck them.

I don't really have much to offer in the way of sage advice. I wish I did.

You lucky folks have degrees now. The only time I spent on a college campus involved a great deal of intoxicating beverages. And I wasn't enrolled.

I hope you all go forth and achieve the dreams you have in those tiny little heads capped by those ridiculous flat hats. And now that this is almost over, I think we can all come clean and admit that those tassels are more than a little gay. It's almost as though your heads are giant stripper breasts.

I have probably said too much.

Well, always try and remember this. You can't buy love, but you can buy two hours with a hooker.

Also, before doing something, ask yourself: "Is there a high probability this will culminate with me taking a shot to the nut-sack?" If the answer is "yes", proceed with caution.

And soup is bullshit.


If you are reading this (and by "this" I mean Big Damn Funny) then you probably drink. Hell, you may very well be drunk right now.

I'm not judging you. We here at BDF love all our readers...every last one of you stinky boozehounds.

I will even let you in on a secret: there is a very good chance that I myself am drunk right now! Ah...comedy juice. That's what we in the humor industry call it. Well, that and Pain-Go-Bye-Bye Juice. I digress.

In light of this, I thought maybe we should take a short spin around the world of beer.

Budweiser - Calls itself the King of Beers. Known to the rest of us as "bland". Tastes like shit. Only for fratboys and rednecks. If you are over 25 and aren't directly blood related to your wife...it is time to put the Budweiser down.

Coors - Kind of like if Budweiser had a gay cousin that no one really talked about.

Miller Lite - What would happen if someone figured out a way to strip all the taste from Budweiser and somehow left that tangy zest of barley.

Pabst Blue Ribbon - Nothing says "Wife Beating Redneck" quite like a having a twelve of this stuff in your Dale Earnhardt cooler.

Old Milwaukee - Beer. Period. It tastes like beer.

Smirnoff Ice - This stuff makes Coors look heterosexual. Not for men. But your girlfriend will love it.

Corona - OK. This stuff is piss. Seriously. This is what Mexicans sell to Americans so they can laugh at us. Plus it has a tendency to make the bathroom duties the next morning a little interesting. Never knew you could pass neon water through your ass, didja? Mexicans don't drink this swill. They drink...

Negra Modelo - Good stuff. Truly. Try some.

Olde English 800 - Well...you paid for it...you might as well drink it.

Killian's Red - About as Irish as Queen Victoria. Tastes like something Queen Victoria may have peed in. If that is your thing, this is your beer.

Heineken - It has "heine" in the name...which should sum it up. Tastes like ass. Dutch ass.

Fosters - As if Budweiser wasn't bad enough...this tastes like some Aussies pissed in Budweiser, rebottled it, and sold it to you with a new label.

Guinness - If God Himself brewed a stout, it would be this.

Beamish - The other stout that God crafted.

That is a brief tutorial of beer. I hope you all learned a little and laughed a little. If not, keep drinking. It all becomes funnier after a few more drinks.

Thursday, August 4, 2005

Eulogy for Digby Tanner, rebel

As I look out onto this sea of faces, I see a great many friends of our dear Digby Tanner. Many of us can recall his constant need to rebel against any form of authority. His desire to separate himself from the pack…to be an individual, not merely one of the herd.

I think it all started when he first read "1984" in our freshman year of high school. The idea of a completely authoritarian government scared the hell out of him.

That same week he watched every episode of The Prisoner, which may have exacerbated the issue.

I remember once when we all stayed the night at Timmy Bradford's house….you all remember Timmy, right? We used to crash there often so we could all sneak out and rent porno films from the all-night video store down on Vincent St.

In any case, this one night, I remember Digby waking up in a cold sweat mumbling, "I am not a number. I am not a number" like a sacred mantra. I think he took that nightmare to heart.

The first act of rebellion that I can recall was smaller scale. It was when he decided that since everyone else wore clothing, he would do no such thing. That led to many afternoons in the principal's office. He spent hours in there being punished. Come to think of it, he spent an extraordinary amount of time in that office. We always did wonder why it took so long. No matter.

From there, his one-man rebellion grew larger and more intricate. At one point, he decided that since everyone else ate food, he would do no such thing. That lasted two days culminating in a glorious collapse during gym class. He always did beat himself up over that, claiming he was disappointed in his own lack of fortitude. He felt it was a failure on his own part to have collapsed. Digby was always a perfectionist.

Remember the leg thing? Digby didn't want to be like anyone else. He didn't even want to look like other people. Some kids rebel by dyeing their hair funny colors. Digby took it further. He figured that since humans were bipeds, he would then be a triped. Sure, he didn't actually have a third leg, but it was the concept that was important. I remember the many afternoons he would spend in clothing stores yelling at the managers for not stocking triple legged pants. He called them all bigots. Digby sure could be passionate about his beliefs.

I think we can all remember the day when, at age 18, Digby decided that he must, as he put it, "take it up another notch". He felt that breaking regular laws had become too commonplace. He wanted to go for some of the bigger laws. His first target...the law of gravity.

Digby spent weeks in his father's garage working on that giant ramp. That led to his 43rd visit to the hospital, this time he wheeled away with two broken legs, a fractured ulna, and 16 stitches on his forehead. Till his dying day, he believed that it was simply a matter of not having enough speed before reaching the end of the ramp. God bless his perfectionism.

Poor Digby. He watched as most of his grand schemes ended in failure accompanied by an emergency visit to the hospital.

But he did pull one off. One he saw through all the way to the finish. That's why we are all here today.

Two days ago, Digby decided that since all other humans breathed Oxygen to live, he would survive solely on Argon.

He made it 20 minutes. 20 glorious minutes of the perfect rebellion. Digby, we salute you.

In memory of Digby Tanner, I would like to take this moment to ask everyone to hold his or her breath for 20 minutes. Let Digby Tanner's rebellion live on!

Wednesday, August 3, 2005

Two Embarrassing Moments

The Periscope

When I was in high school, many moons ago, I fell asleep in biology class. Now, falling asleep wasn't something particularly noteworthy for me. Frankly, I probably spent about 75% of my high school attendance asleep.

This time was different.

Apparently, whilst relaxing in the arms of morpheus, I began to pitch a tent. Now, popping a chub while sleeping isn't anything new. All guys know this. It is pretty much par for the course. But see...I didn't know I had the chub.

I awoke, threw my arms up and begin to yawn and stretch. At that moment, there was a piercing scream from the girl seated next to me.

It seems that my "boys" decided to send up a periscope.

My wood had breached the underwear perimeter and headed for the light. What this poor lass saw as she glanced over towards me was about 25% of my penis just sticking right out of the top of my pants. The view was facilitated by the fact that my shirt had risen up while I was stretching. Almost like a stage curtain for a pants burlesque number.

I kinda feel bad about that.

The Nameless Wind

One year, shortly after Christmas, I decided to return some unwanted gifts. As this was not a new or original idea, I found myself in a rather long line to reach the return counter.

As I bided my time, waiting to return my products, I felt a stirring in my gut. Something evil was brewing. Something which desired release posthaste.

I held as long as I could, but as the sweat began to percolate upon my brow, I was forced to let the little guy go.

Sometimes you get lucky as release an S.B.D. (silent, but deadly). I was not lucky.

You know how at the beginning of Pink Panther films the orchestra dies off kilter and kinda drags out and kills that last note? That was eerily similar to the dulcet tones of the wind which escaped my poor unsuspecting buttocks.

Everyone noticed. Honestly, I don't know how they couldn't. I had a tuba player stashed in the rear of my Levis.

So I did the logical thing. I passed the buck. I began to turn to the person behind me saying "Jesus!"

As that moment, I realized that the person behind me was an eighty year-old woman.

She looked around, dropped her head, and loudly apologized.

Yep. She took the blame. I don't know if it was mere chivalry, or if her advanced age had caused her to not recall whether or not it truly was hers.

In any case, I definitely feel like an ass about that.

Tuesday, August 2, 2005

Winkin' Blinkin' and General Zod

Winkin' Blinkin' and General Zod, one night sailed into the Phantom Zone;
Sailed off on a river of crystal light the three were all alone.
"Where are you going and what do you wish?" the old moon asked the three.
"We've come to Planet Houston to conquer all we see.
Powers beyond measure have we", said Winkin' Blinkin' amd General Zod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song as they traveled through the Phantom Zone.
And the wind that sped them all night long caused General Zod to groan.
"Where is the son of our jailer? I will make him kneel before me.
We will make him cry in agony, he will bow before us three!"
So were the cries of the criminal three - Winkin' Blinkin' and General Zod.

One day they escaped from the Phantom Zone, and landed on the moon.
From there they sailed forth, and arrived on Earth quite soon.
'Twas nothing but chaos from the moment they came;
Angry they were, Jor-El they did blame.
His son they did search for, the criminal three - Winkin' Blinkin' and General Zod.

Now Winkin' Blinkin' and General Zod must fight the Superman.
In the midst of battle, carnage below, the hero turned and ran.
So they followed his trail, to the northern most point, and found his secret lair.
There he stood. Mighty and tall blue suit. And jet black hair.
Under stress and heat, the hero did beat - Winkin' Blinkin' and General Zod.

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