by John McIntyre
Dear Cheryl Gallant (The uber-Christian, Conservative MP who’s made anti-gay remarks and opposed a bill making it illegal to encourage genocide against people based on their sexual orientation),
Your views are antiquated, wrong and evil. You stand for nothing more than the spread of hatred and you do not deserve to represent Canadians in Parliament. Also, go to hell.
She’s like a chubby princess Dianna, except her charity work is more gay-bashy and less AIDS-researchy.
Dear Stephen Harper,
How the hell does a man who lists his favorite bands as the Beatles and ACDC support draconian crime and anti-drug legislation? You sir, are not the Walrus.
Stephen Harper: Canadian Prime Minister, pasty white nerd.
Dear Michael Ignatieff,
You also look like Ricardo Montalbán
KAAAAAAAHHHN!!!!
Dear Phone,
Why the hell won’t you just call a local number if I accidently dial one in front of the area code? You play a fucking message telling me it’s a local number. If you know it’s a local number, then just dial the goddamn number. Jesus.
PHOOOOONE!!!
Dear everyone panicking over H1N1,
Calm the fuck down. The so-called pandemic kills far less people then the seasonal flu. Most people who get it have the symptoms of a mild cold, or no symptoms at all. We had an outbreak of swine flu in 1976 that was barely a blip on the radar, except that three people in the US died (from the fucking vaccine). SARS, avian flu, swine flu, the media loves to blow them out of proportion because when we’re scared, we watch.
NEEEEEEEWS!!!
Dear people making zombie movies,
Stop. Just stop. Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead, Evil Dead, Shaun of the Dead, Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead, those are classics, each of which defied convention and either established a genre or brought a creative twist to that genre (although the titles generally tend to follow the same theme). Adding some awkward, Michael Cera-esque whiny dick and Woody Harrelson getting hit in the head with a golf ball is like improving on Chinatown with a nut shot scene. This bullshit ironic hipster love for zombies is more annoying then herpes, and twice as itchy. Ever since Juno came out Hollywood has just been taking standard genre flicks, throwing in a skinny virgin, turning the irony up to 11 and calling it a goddamn day. It’s not funny, it’s unoriginal, it’s annoying and works perfectly because the public consciousness has all the intelligence and maturity of a Toby Keith song.
BRAAAAAAIIINNS!!!
Dear Toby Keith,
From your new hit single, American Ride:
Winter getting’ colder, summer getting’ warmer/Tidal wave comin’ cross the Mexican border/Why buy a gallon, it’s cheaper by the barrel/Just don’t be busted singin’ Christmas carols … Plasma getting’ bigger, Jesus getting’ smaller/Spill a cup of coffee, make a million dollars/Customs caught a thug with an aerosol can/If the shoe don’t fit, the fit’s gonna hit the shan.
Wow. What a beautifully poetic and subtle use of imagery. It’s brilliant, plasma screens—materialism—are getting bigger than Jesus—traditional values—becomes less important in contemporary society. Those greedy materialistic slobs, way to sock them a hard one Mr. Keith! You’ve earned yourself a good soak in your multi-million dollar mansion’s champagne hot tub.
Toby Keith, staying in touch with his conservative Christian roots.
And I agree. Those dirty Mexican’s are like a tidal wave. Doing your laundry, raising your kids, taking the shit jobs at Wal-Mart, it’s just like violently drowning hundreds of people and flooding thousands of homes. Plus, really, Mexicans smell, and they spend half the day napping! Siesta my ass Ricardo, Mr. Toby wants another strawberry-mango daiquiri!
But the brilliance just keeps coming. The illustration of the temperature change in the seasons, what an irreverent reference to global warming. Sir, your writing is far and above the intelligence of all but the most astute four-year-olds. And let’s not forget the best part of this song. Switching the sh in shit with the f in fan to make that delightful little joke. Wow. Just wow. I’m in awe. It’s the perfect cherry to cap this steamy, hot-brown-fudge-covered sundae of a song.
MMMMMM
