As the poem In Flanders Fields is well known, have a look over at my photoblog. I have a post yesterday about John McCrae.
Now, it's been awhile since I've featured a blog with the insufferably obnoxious voice of this blithering idiot. Rob Ford, the former mayor and still city councilor and buffoon of Toronto (honestly, are the people in his ward that stupid?) has yet to do the world a favour and stop breathing. Writing his voice is like fingernails on a blackboard.
9:45 AM. Wakin’ up. Man, bad hangover. Got totally wasted last night. Like I do every night. Well, there’s nothin’ like the hair of the dog that bit you, right? Of course I’m right.
9:53 AM. Guzzlin’ down some vodka. My favourite drink. Closely followed by scotch, whiskey, beer, rum, beer, wine, moonshine...
10:37 AM. Okay, figure sooner or later I gotta get down to that worthless City Hall and do my ****in’ job. When I’m not busy causin’ a ****in’ scene and underminin’ that ****er of a mayor. Yeah, sooner or later, I’ll be right back in that ****in’ office as mayor, and then, there’s gonna be hell to pay. Revenge, big time! Against every mother****er who ever screwed over Robbie Ford!
11:09 AM. Out the front door. Wearin’ my track suit, lookin’ like the boss. I can still get away with it, what with bein’ in “recovery.” It’s ****in’ hilarious to take full advantage of those ****in’ idiots. Plus hey, I look really ****in’ good in a track suit.
11:11 AM. Tearin’ down the street in the SUV. Hey, I’m good to drive! Some people can’t handle their liquor, but I’m Rob ****in’ Ford! I can take downin’ a whole *****in’ bottle and then gettin’ behind the ****in’ wheel!
11:43 AM. Parked the ****in’ car on a sidewalk near City Hall. Mighta hit somethin’ on the drive in. Don’t really know, I was takin’ a gulp from my whiskey flask when I felt a bump. Awww, who cares, it was probably just my drunken imagination. If those stupid ****in’ cops or bylaw people want to ticket me, I’ll have those stupid mother****ers fired, because nobody messes with Rob ****in’ Ford and lives to see their grandchildren!
11:47 AM. Inside City Hall. Yelling at some ****in’ security guard. Hey! **** you! You know who I am? I’m a city ****in’ councillor, jackass! And I’m gonna be the mayor again, and then I’m gonna be the prime minister, and I’ll have your worthless ****in’ ass outta work for the rest of your ****in’ days, you hear me?
12:05 PM. Steppin’ into the council chambers. Buncha stupid ****ers are breakin’ for lunch. Some of them give me a dirty look. Hey! **** you! You so much as look at me like that, and that means you stupid ****ers love cancer!
12:51 PM. Sittin’ in my office, wolfin’ down a cheese steak sandwich and washin’ it down with some vodka. Life’s good. Nothin’ can possibly go wrong now.
12:53 PM. Knock at the door. Quick look around just to make sure there’s no crack on the desk.
12:54 PM. Door opens. Guy walks in flashin’ a badge. Says something about my car being a match for one that ran down some guy this mornin’. Hey! **** you! Look, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, mother****er, my car got stolen last night. If you ***holes lose the report, that’s on you stupid mother****ers, not me!
12:56 PM. The idiot cop is blatherin’ on and on about how my car is out on the sidewalk a couple streets away, so my little story about a stolen car doesn’t hold much weight. Hey! **** you! How do you know that thief didn’t just leave the ****in’ car there? Get outta my ****in’ office, ***hole!
1:05 PM. Pissed off. My whole three hour lunch and drinkin’ session interrupted by that ****in’ cop. Who gives a **** about pedestrians anyway? Said it ‘bout those ****in’ cyclists, and it applies here: my heart bleeds for ‘em... actually, it doesn’t, because like I said, who gives a **** about pedestrians? Anyway, my heart bleeds for ‘em, but hey, they had it comin’ when they got out on the road and decided their ****in’ safety was more important than Rob ****in’ Ford. ‘Cause I’m more important than anyone else. Ford Nation, baby!! Yeah!
1:15 PM. Staggerin’ back into council chambers. Hey! You stupid mother****ers started without me?
1:16 PM. The Speaker delivers some ****in’ lecture about language and public decorum. Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever, you know I won’t listen to anything you even say and inside of five minutes I’ll be rantin’ again....
1:18 PM. In the middle of a temper tantrum yellin’ at every single one of these mother****ers! Hey! Don’t you roll your ****in’ eyes at me! I’m Rob ****in’ Ford, and I’m gonna be mayor again next time out and until then, I’m ****in’ well gonna do everything in my power to screw you ****ers over! Ford Nation wants a council that does what I say, and you stupid mother****ers disrespect me! **** you! And one more thing.....
3:27 PM. Waking up. Where the **** am I? Not at home... wait a minute... am I in a jail cell? Geez, that must’ve been one hell of a blackout.
3:38 PM. Dougie turns up outside my cell. Weird, he’s got a black eye and a sling on his arm. Dougie! Who the **** put me in here? Did you and me get in some fight?
3:40 PM. Dougie is tellin’ me what happened. Apparently I got decked by a cranky Mountie named Lars Ulrich. Wait a minute, when did that Metallica drummer join those ****in’ Mounties?
3:41 PM. Dougie explains that it seems this ****in’ Ulrich bastard was down here in the city and that I’m the one who actually ran him down in the street, and he’s the one who hit me while I was in the middle of a temper tantrum in council. Well come on, Dougie, if I knew he was with Metallica, I wouldn’t have done that! And hey, if he didn’t come out of this whole thing hurt, no harm no foul, right Dougie? By the way, how’d you get hurt?
3:42 PM. Turns out Dougie asked that Ulrich bastard if he was with Metallica. That ****er didn’t find it amusin’, and that’s why he looks like the walkin’ wounded. Look, who gives a **** about a hit and run? What’s important right now is gettin’ out on top of this whole thing and gettin’ me out and gettin’ these ****in’ charges dropped. They can’t prove if I was behind the wheel or not, I mean, I said the car was stolen, so **** ‘em!
8:45 PM. Finally outta this ****in’ nonsense. Dougie and my lawyer walk me out the front door. Lots of media ****ers waitin’. A few Ford Nation fans holdin’ signs. Dougie, where are the thousands of our fan club? Why aren’t we bein’ mobbed by our supporters? I make a quick statement. Lie through my teeth about some mother****er stealin’ the SUV and usin’ it to run down some ****in’ cop who once hit me before and now has hit me again. I shrug and say that ****in’ Mountie who plays with Metallica should be charged with ****in’ assault, because look at what that ****er did to my beautiful face!
The lawyer’s busy draggin’ me away before I can put my foot any deeper in my mouth.
9:26 PM. Back at home with Dougie and the lawyer. The ball and chain’s put those ****in’ brats to bed. Just as well. Don’t want to see those ****ers anyway. The lawyer’s tellin’ me I gotta stop behavin’ like I’m behavin’ or I’m gonna end up in prison, there’s only so many times I can dodge the consequences of my actions, and... hey! **** you! I pay you to get my ass outta trouble, so don’t you ****in’ lecture me about my actions! Just do your ****in’ job!
11:57 PM. Lawyer’s gone. Me and Dougie are in the back yard drinkin’ some vodka. I’m busy smokin’ crack. Yeah, Dougie, this is the life. Smokin’ crack, gettin’ high, gettin’ drunk. And nothin’ but good days from here on out. We’re gonna get even with that mother****er Mountie just like we’re gonna get even with all those mother****ers on the enemy list who dare disrespect us. I mean, the liberals and the commies and the left wingers and the media and the granola eatin’ hippies and the judges and the Pope and the raccoons and the police and the Queen and every single one of them.
Geez, Dougie, is it just me, or does your chest feel like a vice right about now? Aw, ****... whatever it is, that can’t somethin’ I’ll worry about. Let’s have ourselves a toast. To the Brothers Ford, Dougie! May we reign forever! Ford Nation, baby! Yeah!!!