Though Dost Command the Ghost of Porky's

Hello folks, Bob Clark’s ghost here.

You probably remember me from when I was alive and I directed the greatest Canadian film of all time… Porky’s.

Yes, it is the movie with the guy with the big wang called Meat and yes it’s the movie with the shower scene where Beulah Ballbricker grabs the other guy’s wang. But enough about my cinematic masterpiece Johnny Creepshow has channeled me from the great beyond because he has an important message he wants me to give you about Our Canadian national anthem.

I know most of you outside of Canada think that it’s this.



But actually it’s this.



Now it seems that the federal government is talking about changing the lyrics. They want to change the line In all thy sons command to… are you ready for it Though dost in us command. Is that even English? I’ll tell you one thing it is. Bull plus shit! This is the dumbest thing I’ve heard since the idea to put O. J.’s murder suit in the Smithsonian! It’s a worse idea then Porky’s III: Porky’s Revenge.

See the Conservatives here think that the line In all thy sons command is sexist. They think that the new lyric Though dost in us command will be more gender neutral. I’ll tell you what’s gender neutral… anyone that sings this new lyric. Seriously you’re just smooth down there. Like a Ken doll.

You.

Who really wants these lyrics changed? I’ll tell you who. A bunch of unsatisfied old feminists and guys that hyphenate their last name when they get married (see Ken doll above). But seeing as we Canadian’s are a democratic bunch we’ll ask the opinions of some other prominent Canadians to see what they have to say on the matter.

Jim Lahey what do you think?

Jim: Just a couple of drinks Bob… just a couple of drinks.

Bob’s Ghost: No Jim. What do you think about changing O Canada?

Jim: What kind of a shit hawk would want to do that? They can go eat a shit sandwich!

Bob’s Ghost: Thanks Jim. Well said.

Bob & Doug Mackenzie. What do you think?

Doug: Take off, eh. If you don’t like our national anthem you can like move, eh. Yea, move to Russia.

Bob: Yeah, there’s no sexism there because it’s too cold, eh.

Doug: Yeah it’s colder there then it is here. And like there’s no sexism because no one can tell if you’re like a guy or a girl, right. Cause you’re all bundled up, eh.

Bob: Hey, did you see that guy’s toque?

Bob’s Ghost: Thanks guys. Interesting theory. Let’s see if we can find someone that’s not drunk. Hey! Jim! Jim Carrey, you’re Canadian what do you think?

Jim Carrey: Smokein!

Bob’s Ghost: No, Jim what do you think about changing O Canada?

Jim Carrey: Smokein!

Bob’s Ghost: No, Jim. Do you think O Canada is sexist?

Jim Carrey: Somebody stop me!

Bob’s Ghost: You know what Jim, never mind. We’ll put you down as undecided.

There you have it. The majority rules. Canadians don’t want their national anthem changed. Christ aren’t we polite enough already? If you don’t like O Canada and think it’s sexist then go fuck yourself. Now I must return to the warm embrace of the crypt. Since you’ve been so good and listened attentively while I conveyed Johnny Creepshow’s important message here’s the scene from Poky’s where Meat pulls the hooker prank on Pee Wee.



Enjoy Humans Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

RIP Casey Johnson 1979-2010

Tila Tequila’s fiancée is dead. I had no idea Tila was even getting married. Doesn’t that kind of ruin her whole image (whore)? I’m assuming the fiancée died from an extreme case of cooties. The reason for this is that I also assume that anyone that goes near Tila Tequila’s privates ends up like this:








Well it was either that or drugs that killed her.

Now I’ve never heard of Casey Johnson (that’s the dead one). I stopped keeping up on Hollywood’s socialite scene back in the 1940s when the Black Dahlia didn’t respond to my letter asking her what her favorite colour was. But here’s what I’ve learned about her in the past few minutes:



- She is one of the great granddaughters of Robert Wood Johnson 1, co-founder of Johnson & Johnson. They make this:

That’s the stuff they sprinkle on the dance floor at Northern Soul nights and it’s also what a lot of cab drivers smell like.



- Her father is Robert Wood Johnson 4. He owns the NY Jets. They’re the backing band For that guy Benny that Elton John is so obsessed with.

- She recently walked out of a rehab clinic early (see new it, drugs).



- She was the one that proposed to Tila Tequila (see new it, drugs).



- On November 30, 2009, Johnson was arrested for allegedly stealing jewelry, shoes, 600 pages of a legal document, clothing, and underwear from Jasmine Lennard. Johnson allegedly left a used vibrator and wet towel as a calling card. (Ewww, gross. Oh and also see new it, drugs). Kind of like the wet bandits from Home Alone.







- She said that her biggest regret was turning down “The Simple Life”.



- Her dad had to pay 20,000 to replace a hotel rug that her dog shit on.



- In 2007 she adopted a kid from Kazakhstan (Borat) and named her Ava-Monroe after her hero Marilyn Monroe (A ditzy bad actress that gives guys who own classic cars boners).

- TheFrisky.com has a bio of Casey Johnson where they say this, “Casey has led a very privileged life that doesn’t seem to include much more than spending money, engaging in girl fights and partying. “

The saddest part of all is that she seems to have been someone who had hopes of being an icon or at least making the headlines. In life she made them for all the wrong reasons and in death she’s barely mentioned. Nearly every headline I’ve read today says something along the lines of “Tila Tequila’s Fiancee Found Dead”. That’s no way for anyone to be remembered.

I’ll admit that from everything I’ve read I probably would have disliked Casey Johnson immensely but she was someone’s child and I guess in a way someone’s mother. Maybe Ava-Monroe will grow up to cure cancer (or kill Paris Hilton). So for you Casey here’s Elton John singing Candle in the wind live in Tokyo from 1988. RIP

What Villains Eat.

The life of a villain is shrouded in mystery. As far as anyone can tell their days are spent lounging on thrones, laughing maniacly, skulking in the shadows, yelling at henchmen and awaiting the final showdown with a hero or pitch-forking by an angry mob. But they still have to eat. Here’s what villains eat:


The Phantom of the Opera:

Rats.


He lives in the sewers below the opera house. What else is he going to eat? When he appears in the rafters at an opening night soiree he might grab a couple of deviled eggs on the way out but for the most part the Phantom of the Oprah is eating rats. Not so Romantic now, eh ladies? (On the flip side I’m pretty sure Vincent from Beauty and the Beast ate rats too. You hear that middle age women? All your dreamboats are full of RAT MEAT).

Darth Vader:

Baby food.



“Darth Vader is more machine now then man. Twisted and evil” You know who else was more machine then man? RoboCop and he ate baby food.


Grand Moff Tarken (to Stormtrooper): Go to Lord Vader’s chambers and feed him Gerber Strained Peas.


Stormtrooper: But sir! Lord Vader hates peas. Just last week he spit them all over the Death Star and force choked two Stormtroopers and a Biker Scout!



Frankenstein’s Monster:

Garbage.



Frankenstein’s Monster just roamed around sleeping rough and no doubt eating garbage. Dr. Frankenstein basically created a homeless man. Good Job. Just what the world needed, a fucking bum. What’s the next brainwave there Doc? A Frankenhooker?







Dr. Doom:

Grey Peas with Small Pieces of Bacon.



Apparently Dr. Doom rules some fictional world called Latveria. I looked around to see if I could find out what the Latverian National dish is but found nothing. So, I’m going with the next closest thing. The Latvian national dish Grey Peas with Small Pieces of Bacon. Yea, he eats that. No wonder he’s so mean. I’m sure he probably also eats soup, peanuts, Yops and whatever else he can jam into those little holes in his face.





The Joker:

McDonalds.



The joker was a crazy person. All the crazy people in my neighborhood eat at McDonalds or Coffee Time.







I could go on but every other major villain eats either steak or people (see Blofeld, Dracula, Hannibal Lecter, Lex Luthor etc). Except for Cruella Devil who like all old vain rich women lives off a steady diet of Martini olives and jiggalo sweat.

The Coors Light Mansion Is Full of Hookers!

What is the deal with the Coors Light Mystery Mansion?



Apparently if you drink enough of Coors mildly beer flavored bladder irritant you could win a trip to this awesome secret mansion up in the mountains where you can party all night with other Coors Light drinkers and there will be lots of hot fun girls there that are going to want to have sex with you. Am I the only one that sees something wrong with this picture?

First of all let’s take a look at some of your average Coors Light beer drinkers. There are only 5 reasons why any man would drink Coors Light. (This beer is disgusting. The only good thing they can say about it in the commercials is that it’s cold. That’s something that YOU do to it not them. “Good As Cold Ever Tasted”, that was one of their slogans. What the fuck does that mean??!!) They are as follows.

1) It was free. (Free beer is free beer.)

2) It was the only thing available. (Any port in a storm.)

3) You’re one of those metro-sexual men who’s afraid of getting a gut or you’re already getting a gut and your wife is forcing you to drink light beer. (Enjoy your hyphenated last name you wendy.)

4) You have no taste buds. (In that case why not just drink tonic water or Busch Light?)

5) You’re an idiot.

Now given that this ad campaign is directed at people that already buy Coors Light and enticing them to buy more we can rule out numbers one and two as Coors Light drinkers that will be at the Mansion. Number three’s metro-sexuals are trying to cut down on their beer intake so chances are they’re not going to find an invite and the Pussy-whipped gut guys’ wives would never let them go. Ageusia is pretty rare so that rules out number four. So that only leaves the idiots.

I’m talking about this guy:



And this guy:



And these Guys:



Oh and don’t forget this guy:



Given that we now have a pretty clear picture of what the average Coors Light Secret Mansion goer looks like, what are the odds that any hot women are going to want to have sex with them? Answer: zero. That’s why they must hire prostitutes.
I know what you’re thinking. They probably just fill the mansion with those promo girls you see at sporting events and expos. Girls like this:

Maybe but what girl in her right mind would want to spend a weekend naked and painted up like a Coors Light can, being propositioned and pawed at by 200 drunk, horny losers while you force Coors Light down their throats for $20 an hour? I think Coors Light hire prostitutes. They could hardly cheapen the occasion anymore then it is and it means they don’t have to worry about subduing all the bonered-up,brawling inebriated contest winners with chicken wings at 2 am when the promo girls clock out and leave.

The secret to the Coors Light Secret Mansion? It’s Prostitutes. Filthy, dirty prostitutes.



P.S. Here’s what I Imagine the Woody's Coolers Secret Mansion is like.

"Whatever happened to hand-jobs?"

Oh man! Whew! Oh boy! Special treat for me last night. I turn on my TV and what do I see? Bachelor Party on AMC!!! Even though it’s more majestic moments were dubbed or cut out and I own my own unedited copy (on VHS) it’s safe to say I watched it.
If you haven’t seen Bachelor Party yet stop reading this, stop being an idiot and go watch it now. Download it, rent it, hell buy it because you’re going to want to watch it over and over and you’re going to want to lend it to friends and loved ones. Buy two copies because someone you lend it to is not going to want to give it back.
Bachelor Party is everything a good 80s movie should be and then some. Fuck John Hughes (god rest his soul). The only film that comes close to BP is Revenge of the Nerds and that’s saying something.
We’ve got Tom Hanks in one of his first and most embarrassing rolls to date, a Hindu street pimp, a guy disguising his foot long penis as a hot dog, hookers, a hooker band that looks like the B52’s minus that little creep with the mustache, a suicidal drug addict named Pecker Head, full frontal nudity, Mike the magical, sexual mule who later takes a bunch of pills and cocaine and dies (I hope that’s not a plot spoiler) and, and, and…. Whew! I’m out of breath.
On of my most prized possessions is a copy of the soundtrack for this movie on vinyl. I got it off some burn-out in Kensington Market for $2! Someone once told me that they enjoyed listening to me talk about Bachelor Party more then when they actually saw the film. That’s how much I love this film. Maybe I can get a job describing BP to the blind because that would be the worst part about being blind… not being able to see Bachelor Party.