Faith Can Move Mountains... But Dynamite Works Better

Saturday, August 31, 2013

How To Destroy Your Career And Reputation 101

Some items to see to before we get started today. First, go on over to Norma's  Wordpress blog or over to her Blogger page if you prefer, for her follow up on the DespicaBlimp, and give her a comment. And second, check out our joint blog, where we had fun with wedding humour.  Yes, it's Mawwiage, as Peter Cook would call it. Have a look, and leave us a comment!

Now then, you knew this was coming, didn't you?

Don’t Tell My Achy Breaky Career Meltdown

Calgary (CP). Miley Cyrus turned up in Calgary this week for a concert, mere days after her eyebrow raising appearance at the VMAs. Cyrus, the one-time Hannah Montana star, stunned audiences with her behaviour, particularly during a duet with singer Robin Thicke, in which she did lewd things with her tongue, bumped and grinded against the singer (who happens to be twice her age), stripped down to a flesh coloured bikini outfit, and pleasured herself on stage with a novelty oversized glove.

Cyrus is the daughter of infamous singer Billy Ray Cyrus, who gave the world a reason to think fingernails on a blackboard sounded better when he recorded Achy Breaky Heart. She spent her formative years being thrown into the spotlight by Disney and her parents in the Hannah Montana television show and related spinoffs and merchandising efforts. Since then, she has been spending her time living that show down, acting out in a variety of outlandish ways, trying to cast herself more as an adult figure and move her singing career in other directions. She’s also been seen at many a party, getting drunk and getting photographed in all the wrong ways.

Her on again off again fiancĂ©, actor Liam Hemsworth has seemingly had enough. He has returned to his home in Australia, and has requested the Australian government to deny Miley any entry to the land Down Under.  “He’s really just had enough of the endless circus,” Hemsworth’s agent told reporters. “Liam’s a down to earth kind of guy, and the endless cries for attention by Miley, pointless look at me behaviour, and self destructive streak was getting to him. Actually, I’m surprised he put up with it after she had a penis cake made for his birthday.”

“I don’t know what the problem is,” Cyrus told reporters gathered in a convention center here.  This reporter was among them, being punished by being made to speak with a halfwit entertainer all because he happened to break out laughing during the funeral of his editor’s mother-in-law.  “I mean, so I like to have a little fun. What’s the problem with that? And so what if I like to be a little exhibitionist? That doesn’t give Will Smith the right to judge me, after all. I mean, seriously, he’s the one who brought those two talentless kids of his into the world, and if I know anything, it’s about talentless kids.” She looked around at the reporters. “Wait a minute, that might not have been what I meant to say.”

“Miley! Miley!” a reporter called out. “Any truth to the rumour that your father is a member of the Mulletus Demonicus class of demons from the seventh circle of Hell?”

Cyrus appeared stunned. “Who told you that...? I mean, that’s ridiculous!”

“What are your plans while you’re in Calgary?” a reporter with the Calgary Herald asked.

“Well, you know, I want to take in the Stampede...”

“That was a month ago,” the Herald reporter pointed out.

“It was?” Miley seemed confused. This reporter wondered if she had already been drinking. "You don't imagine they'd put it on just for me, do you? Oh, never mind. Well, I've got a concert going on. Before then, I'll probably go on a pub crawl with fifty of my closest friends. Liam would be there, but for some reason that I don't really understand, he's not returning my calls." 

“Miss Cyrus, what would you say to those who feel you’re on a road to complete self destruction?” this reporter asked. “How do you address the concerns that you need help, that these endless acting out and stunts of misbehaviour are not a good sign?”

She appeared annoyed. “I would say anyone who thinks that is sadly mistaken.” This reporter rolled his eyes. “Look, all I’m doing is having a little fun. Just like that Sheryl Crow song. You know the one that I...” Her voice trailed off, and she seemed to be looking beyond the crowd of reporters. “Hey, wait! You! Wait!”

She burst through the crowd, walking towards a Mountie who was passing through the center. This reporter recognized him. So did many others. It was Inspector Lars Ulrich, back in Alberta after being overseas assisting in the investigation of the Yorkshire Terrier Of The Baskervilles case in Britain. He saw the oncoming Miley Cyrus and the horde of reporters following her. The look in his eyes suggested he had been trying to get past the crowd unseen, and was annoyed to have been spotted.

Cyrus threw an arm around the shoulder of the Inspector, who looked around, as if seeking a way out, when the press corps surrounded them. “Hi there! What’s a girl got to do to get a Mountie up on stage during her performances?” Cyrus asked, oblivious to the expression of annoyance from the Inspector. “Listen, I’ve got an idea for a stage performance. You’re up on stage while I’m singing whatever song I feel like at that moment. I’ll be busy taking off more and more of my clothes as the song goes on... I like doing that these days, and I’m up there with two of my backup singers, and we’re all thrusting and grinding and twerking with you. It’ll be great, just great. What do you think?”

“Who the hell are you?” Ulrich asked in a low, menacing voice. Those few among the press corps who consider ourselves actual journalists stepped back.

“I’m Miley Cyrus!” she exclaimed. “Everyone knows who I am! Oh, don’t kid. You know exactly who I am. By the way, do those uniforms you Mounties wear tear off easily? Because that would sort of be the point...”

“Lars! Lars!” This reporter glanced over at his colleague from the Herald, who was speaking. Ulrich glared at him, as if wondering if he was going to ask an inane question. “Professor Tobias Merkley has made a suggestion in a column today that I’d like your opinion on. Merkley is publishing a book he calls The Fourth Wall Conundrum. He theorizes that none of this is actually real, that we are all merely fictional characters, the creation of a man typing at a computer. Furthermore, he suggests that you, Inspector, are the pivotal focus point of that man beyond the Fourth Wall, and that man enjoys torturing you by writing you into situations where you’re around entertainment reporters. What do you say to that?”

Ulrich sighed in dismay. “Are you drunk?”

“No!” the reporter assured the Inspector.

“Well, you come along on my pub crawl with my personal closest friends, the Mountie, and I, and I can do something about that,” Cyrus suggested.

Another reporter spoke up. “Lars! Alex Andrews, Hollywood Now. Will Miley be doing a duet with Metallica?”

Ulrich pushed forward and grabbed him by the throat. “I am not that Lars Ulrich, you insufferable moron!”

Andrews appeared confused. “Ah, travelling incognito, not wanting to let people know Metallica is in town? I get it, Lars. Bravo, very well thought out. But it still doesn’t answer my que..." 

Andrews never got a chance to finish his question. The Inspector hit him squarely across the jaw, sending him falling into a crowd of other reporters. He dragged Andrews away by the heel, heading off in the direction of the Bow River. Miley Cyrus called after him, "So is that a no to doing a strip tease with me for the concert?"

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

A Day In The Life Of A Cat

7:55 AM. Waking up very slowly. Dreamed of chasing squirrels. 

8:00 AM. Finding the staff in the kitchen. She's eating breakfast. I'm surprised she could have gotten past me without my waking up. Wondering if she might have ninja silence skills. Will have to make the proper inquiries to determine that for myself.

Staff, it is time for my breakfast. Get to it.

8:02 AM. The staff gives me a bowl of field rations. Again. I give her my most surly glare.

With much reluctance, I begin to eat some of the field rations.

8:25 AM. Sitting on back of the couch, staring outside. Watching the birds. Or as I think of them, flying lunch. The problem is they know a cat lives here, so they're always extra cautious.

8:45 AM. The staff finally lets me out the door. By now, all of the birds have scattered. Well, it was time for my morning patrols anyway....

8:50 AM. I can hear the barks of that idiot dog from down the road. You can hear that mutt from miles away sometimes...

9:05 AM. Trouble ahead. The idiot dog is right ahead of me. And he's with another dog. 

Isis, why did you invent dogs? They serve no purpose at all.

9:06 AM. The two dogs seem to be conferring among themselves. Is it an attempt to chase me? Synchronized tail wagging? I must keep my claws at the ready just in case...

9:08 AM. The other dog approaches, and surprises me by bowing his head and keeping a respectful distance. Oddly enough, there's the scent on him that suggests he lives with cats. He conveys the sentiment that his counterpart is younger and not that aware of the ways of cats.

Is this some sort of scam?

9:10 AM. I walk away from the dogs. Neither of them follow.

Dogs are strange beasts. There's just no figuring them out.

10:05 AM. Closing in on home. Wait a minute. There's a strange car in the driveway. I did not clear the staff to allow visitors without my express permission. Who is that?

Wait a minute... that's not her sister's car, is it?

10:11 AM. Oh, no, it is! That means her idiot husband and their rotten kids must be here too....

I must not be discovered. Those kids will torment me to no end if they find me...

11:15 AM. Maintaining surveillance of the property from the safety of the woods. Have chosen a high spot in a tree, but still close enough to the ground that I can descend on my own. Have confirmed that the idiot husband and the annoying kids have indeed accompanied the sister on the visit today. Actually, there's an extra kid too, a baby.

Think, damn it, think! Didn't the staff say something months ago about another baby?

Babies are strange. Not as strange as dogs, but strange enough.

12:30 PM. Maintaining position. Quite annoyed. It's lunch time, but I can't get anywhere near the house, not with those annoying kids running around. They'd torment me to no end.

I'm missing my lunch!!!!

2:45 PM. Just how long do visits take? You come in, you say hello, you have a cup of that awful coffee that humans seem to like for some reason, and you say goodbye. Those idiot relations of hers have been there nearly five hours now... at the very least!

Staff, you will answer for this, I swear to Isis...

4:10 PM. They still haven't gone yet. They're all sitting out on the deck, yakking it up like humans do. And those kids are running about chasing each other.

At least they haven't seen me....

4:35 PM. You know what's most annoying about all of this? I'm missing out on nap time while out here on this tree branch. I have to keep an eye on the house so I know when they leave, so no falling asleep for me. And even if I did fall asleep, how am I supposed to know those annoying brats won't come and see me and torment me to no end before I can get away?

5:40 PM. Oh, now this is all wrong. They're barbecuing out on the deck.

This means two things, both of which annoy me to no end. First, they're staying for dinner, which means the idiot relations won't be leaving for at least another hour. And second, I don't dare go near that house, despite whatever delicious smells might be coming my way.

I wonder if I should go over to Mrs. McIntyre and plead for sanctuary? And a nice bit of meat...

6:05 PM. I can smell the scent of burgers and barbecue sauce from here... so tempting, so very tempting...

No! Can't go near the house! Not with the annoying brats there.

I swear, if they're here all weekend, I'll just have to find myself a new staff.

7:10 PM. How hard would it be to crank call them to tell them their house just got destroyed by a fifty foot tall gorilla? Are they dumb enough to believe that and just leave already?

Kind of a moot point. I don't have a cell phone. Plus I'd never lower myself to speak English.

7:30 PM. Finally! The idiot relations are all packing up and heading into the car. It's about bloody time!

7:40 PM. Have waited long enough. The idiot relations are less likely to turn around now if they have forgotten something. Heading to the door. The staff and I will have words....

7:42 PM. The staff lets me in. Staff, I am most displeased with you. What have I told you before about inviting anyone here without my express permission, especially your idiot relations? 

The staff cheerfully asks if I'm hungry, and sets down a plate of burger meat.

If you think this is going to make up for having to run surveillance on my own property all day, think again, because... mmmm, smells good...

7:45 PM. Chewing my way through burger meat. Tastes rather good, even cold. 

Still annoyed with my staff though.

7:55 PM. The staff gives me a bowl of strawberry ice cream to finish off my dinner. Better, staff, better.

In the future, if your relations happen to visit, I demand clearance with me four weeks in advance so that I can take refuge all day with Mrs. McIntyre.

11:40 PM. The staff is off to bed, wishing me a good night. 

Consider yourself lucky, staff. If you'd let your idiot relations stay over the weekend, you would have found yourself without a cat to serve. I would have found myself a brand new staff....

Monday, August 26, 2013

A Day In The Life Of A Dog

7:15 AM. Sun's up outside. The human is awake upstairs, from the sound of it. 

Feeling hungry...

7:30 AM. Good morning, human! And how are you on this fine day?

7:40 AM. The human pours me a big bowl of yummy kibbles. Oh boy!

7:41 AM. I have wolfed down the entire bowl. Not quite in record time, but close...

7:45 AM. The human's having breakfast. I'm looking outside. Wondering if that annoying squirrel is anywhere in sight. No sign of him from here...

He's probably plotting something evil. Or burying acorns. Squirrels do that.

8:00 AM. The human lets me out the door. Bye, human! I'll see you later!

8:10 AM. Sprinting through the back fields, in search of anything odd. Barking my head off. As usual.

I wonder if my barking so much warns anything off well before I reach them.

8:55 AM. Have met up with Spike The Magnificent, Tormentor of Squirrels. He's out for his morning stroll too. Hello, Spike. Any sign of squirrels today?

9:05 AM. Spike and I are conferring on the location of a good mud puddle when I happen to spot that cranky cat from down the road. I wonder if I can get her to be friends for once...

9:06 AM. Spike cautions me to not rush up to the cat. He reminds me that cats are, after all, ornery creatures who tend to dislike dogs by default. They do not respond well to having their hindquarters sniffed by a dog. Well, Spike, that I knew by experience.

9:08 AM. Spike steps out in advance of me and does the strangest thing, bowing to the cat. He informs the cat that I am a younger dog and not as well versed in the way of cats as I should be, and apologizes for any untoward behaviour of mine in the past.

9:10 AM. The cat walks off. Cats are strange.

Spike agrees that cats are strange, but adds that strange isn't all that bad a thing.

I remark that he lives with four cats, and therefore is outnumbered each and every day. He admits that is the case.

10:35 AM. On my way home. Coming across a big mud puddle.

Oh, I can't resist....

10:40 AM. Mud, mud, mud! 

10:30 AM. Coming home. Covered in mud. Looking filthy. Feeling happy.

10:35 AM. The human is less than impressed by how muddy I am. Informs me that it's time for a bath.

Wait a minute, no one said anything about a bath!

10:45 AM. Being subjected to the atrocities of a bath. That water is cold, human! Even for summer!

10:50 AM. The human has finished scrubbing me down with the Towel of Torment.

I'll just have to spend more time in a mud puddle....

12:30 PM. The human is having lunch. I use my sad eyes expression to get a ham and cheese sandwich out of her.

Yum yum yum!

5:25 PM. Awake from a nap. Feel like heading outside. Maybe I can find that mud puddle again...

5:40 PM. The human saw right through my attempts to get out to the mud puddle by taking me for a walk on a leash, of all things.

I hope that cat doesn't see me like this....

6:35 PM. The human is making French toast. One of my very favourites too...

6:55 PM. The human gives me a few slices of French toast on a plate. Though she doesn't add maple syrup to it for some reason. You know, human, I'm not that sloppy an eater...

And don't bring up the spaghetti incident.

7:00 PM. Lying in the living room quite content after a meal of French toast. Yum yum yum...

9:55 PM. The human is watching a baseball game. I'm afraid I don't get the point to running around that diamond thing.

Is it for the same reason that dogs chase their tails?

And why is that fan holding up a sign reading Bartman Must Die? Who's Bartman?

11:05 PM. Game's over. The Cubs have lost by a score of twenty to one. The human says that happens a lot.

The human bids me good night and heads upstairs. 

Bye, human. I'll stay down here awhile and try to figure out why Cubs fans would want Bartman dead.