THIS WEEK: Nightclub Mafia, poppies,
cokedicks!

PLUS: It’s rockin’ out east, eh!?

M Hey man, do you hear that sound? Click, click, click. That’s the sound of the local music scene, a bunch of wannabe RUMP WRANGLERS. Peace out, yo. [BLEEP!]

F Oh my God, yes, Ontario is totally STARVING for rock ’n’ roll. And you know where else is starving for rock ’n’ roll? The Maritimes! Especially places like Halifax that are just a little out of the way to go to but really not that big of a deal. Take a detour. Go down there! Check it out! First of all, it’s a beautiful city. Second of all, I saw Jenn Grant there in 2006 at what is now known as the defunct Stage 9 and she had people dancing like it was a frickin’ mosh pit. Just little Jenn Grant, hadn’t even released her debut yet. There’s also MONCTON. Moncton, man, that city has birthed so many Canadian indie rockers from past generations that toured tirelessly for years in Canada and the States. And, you know, if they can do it, then they deserve to have some of us go to them for once! Frickin’ Moncton! Or St-John’s, NEWFOUNDLAND. Or Charlottetown in PEI. All the kids there are dying for something new—anything. Just go to the Maritimes in general, man. Even if you stop in Truro for a night and play some garage punk concert in someone’s backyard, it’s all good. They want you. Try your own backyard for a little while before you start going on to the States and putting your money into something, oh, I don’t know, called a recession? [BLEEP!]

M Hey, this goes back a while, man, but a pissant bartender a few months ago was wondering why the people with DRINK TICKETS don’t give you a tip. First of all, because you’re a fucking dude. Second of all, we work for our money. Third, if we get a drink ticket, we’re in the NIGHTCLUB MAFIA, which means the owner of the club is paying us to be there, which means we get money to even show up. Why the fuck are we going to give it to you? We make this shit happen in this city. Any-fucking-body that wants a dollar from me better be doing something other than getting me my beer and then bitching about it. It was free anyways. So fuck you. Actually not fuck you. Pardon me. Keep doing your job and I’ll keep doing mine. Bye bye. [BLEEP!]

M Hey Rant Line™. Me and some buddies were just having some beers after cleaning off my house from some so-called graffiti art yesterday and we were wondering—if we catch one of these little punks, should we break their pinky or should we break their index finger first? What do you guys think? [BLEEP!]

M Yeah, I just had an AUDITION today. I had this guy view me, his name was DOUG. Listen, this is a message for you, Doug. You’re just a piece of shit in a fucking suit. That’s what you are. What do you do? You do fucking Disney? You’re a nobody. A piece of shit in a tie. I told him that today. He hung up on me, he’s mad, fucking pissed. Guess what, Doug? Fuck you. [BLEEP!]

F Hi Rant Line™. It’s 4:05 on Saturday night and I’m doing a favour for a friend of mine, J.P., who has lost his prized possession, his hat that belonged to his father. An old man NEWSPAPER HAT. And this girl at Tokyo named EDEN that he had a mini-crush on for some moment in the evening took his hat and tried it on and then we don’t know what happened to Eden. And he’s really, really upset about it because it means a lot to him, this hat. So, Eden, if you exist and read this and are aware of J.P. on Saturday night, and the cute little hat that he’s had for so long that belonged to his father, please, call the Rant Line™ or something because it’s 4:06 in the morning and he’s really, really sad about it and I just want him to get his hat back. So just give it back, Eden. Okay? Thank you. [BLEEP!]

M So, I told you before that you can grow peanuts in Montreal. But this is what I found out this morning in my community garden—POPPIES. I saw the flowers, everything! You can grow poppies in Montreal, you fucking drug addicts, if you want to. Get a community garden, find out somebody who has poppy seeds and you can grow your own poppies. Okay? Or grow them for Remembrance Day. The poppy flower on the lapel. You can sell the real one. Not fucking plastic. Okay, poppies, gardens, people growing poppies in Montreal. Fucking people, eh? Amazing. [BLEEP!]

F Hi. This message is to reply to the girl who wrote her boyfriend has the nicest and tastiest and biggest cock ever. Well, I agree. Her boyfriend DOES have the biggest cock ever. Thanks. [BLEEP!]

F Dearest COKEDICK. We appreciate all your exhaustive efforts. Unfortunately, your best just doesn’t cut it. You cannot seem to RISE to the challenge. I know, I know. You’re tired, you were up late, you drank a lot and you did a dozen lines. Please try again later. After you have a good night’s rest, drink plenty of water and get some exercise. Try and work the cocaine out of your system, because it’s obviously interfering with your blood flow. You have conspired for years to cause enough BLUE LABIA to fill an ocean and we, the women of Montreal, have had enough. Eat us out and get out. We’re frustrated and sick of pretending to be patient. When we want cock, we want to be able to use it. So, all you purveyors of LATE NIGHT PARTY PUSSY, be warned. We’re taking a stand because you can’t. We will not take it anymore. Be well. [BLEEP!]

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