Atwood, Plath...Step Aside

A friend pointed me towards THIS. It's a collection of love poems by Leonard Nimoy. I loved it so much that I approached the publisher and was asked to write the following review, to be included on the back cover of the next hard cover edition:

Wow! I'm blown away by the profound sensitivity, introspection and unique, masterful use of language that Leonard employs. "We are the dreamers. We are the dancers. Life is the music. Love is the song." I mean, I never would have thought to say that. Who the fuck says that? I'm humbled. I'm shocked. No, I'm spocked. Holy fuck.
K-Dough

Chrétien Foreshadows Book Content

When I asked him this morning at breakfast** what manner of dirty secrets would be exposed in his upcoming book, Jean Chrétien lifted his drunken, drooling head off the pillow and murmured "A book is a book. What kind of a book? It's a book. A book is a book. And when you 'ave a good book it's because it's written."

**In response to an offline questioner who asked "What would you be doing in bed with Chrétien " I thought I should clear things up. Hey, everyone knows how easy it is to get into the Chrétien bedroom. Last night, I drunkenly stumbled into the wrong house, and when Aline attacked me, some kind of sexual chemical reaction occurred. Next thing I know, the Chrétien's and I are entangled in the throes of a sweaty ménage a trois. Hey, one should never look a gift former PM's wife in the mouth...mwahaha.

RIP to An Era

Sam Pollock, general manager of Hab dynasties in Montreal in the '60s and '70s, died last week. He was the architect behind 9 Stanley Cups. He was also partially responsible for tons of childhood joy for a kid, ostracized in enemy territory by a gang of low-intelligence redneck, loser-supporting, snotty-nosed Leaf kids.

Here's to the bony finger of victory in your eye Southern Ontario.

Vive les tricolores!!! Vive les Canadiens!!!

Cock Punching of the Week

Hey kids- welcome to a fresh new joint on K-Dough. I'm rolling out the latest in thrilling much required improvements to Blogolia.

It's K-Dough's official Cock Punching of the Week- where a loser is selected from a long list of deserving targets and is swiftly and firmly Cock Punched via the electronic K-fist.

So without further delay, I give you the first in the line-up for humiliating genital pummelling...his Dark Lordness, Conrad "Poohs" Black!

Black and White Stripes for Conrad

A K-Dough Exclusive
Dateline: CHICAGO, July 11 (with files from BS)

A verdict in the fraud trial of former evil media dark lord Conrad Black is expected to be delivered today. An insider close to the defence team for Black has told K-Dough that, should Black be found guilty, the team will ask for leniency due to the emergence of an until recently unknown health condition, sudden onset claustrophobia. The defence is referring to the tactic as "the Hilton card". While prosecutors say they will push for the maximum sentence of 5,000 years to be spent in an operating deficit, the defence is confident that its Hilton loophole will work.

Paris Hilton, the infamous socialite, amateur porn princess and small dog enthusiast, could not be reached for comment, but a spokesperson said "Black? That is soooo not a colour Paris would ever wear to a sentencing. What? Who? Conrad Black? Oh. Well, I know she loves to blast that screamy song Back in Black when she is naked, driving her golf cart around the pool area and snorting blow off her midget's ass cheeks". It is rumoured that Barbara Amiel has already contacted Martha Stewart inquiring about her "fabulous" iron-file-in-the-cake recipe.

I Want to Be Your Boyfriend

So, you've probably heard that some loser, 70s never-been band from California is suing Avril Lavigne because they say she ripped off the chorus to her smash shit-hit Girlfriend from a tune they wrote in 1979. I guess you can't blame the geriatic bastards for trying to crack open Avril's treasure chest to pay for some long overdue PSA tests. Mmmmm, did I just say Avril's treasure chest? Delightful.

Annnnnnnnnyway, the kicker is that notorious song bitchtress Chantal Kreviazuk- who sold her integrity to the devil (and married him for that matter) - is now bad mouthing Avril to the music press and "suggesting" she ripped her off too.

I, for one, find it rich that Chantal and her money-grubbing sick chicken-voiced Prima Donna husband would use up that poor young girl and throw her away like she was some drunken bi-curious teen who had answered a Lavalife ad posted under "Adventurous Couples".

Poor Avril. I sense she may need comforting in the way only K can provide. Dump that little elf Wibbly sweetie and drop by this weekend with a gallon of lube, that little skirt thang and a note from your mother: K-Dough wants to be your boyfriend. Err, Daddy?

Happy F Day mofos, brofos, faux-mos and homos!!!

Britney Sucks Off a Moose

The vag wasn't enough. The dangerous driving wasn't enough. The public disdain for the aesthetic smear of a carelessly displayed Caesarean scar wasn't enough. The Madonna faux-lesbo kiss wasn't enough. The divorce, rehabs and head shaving bullshit weren't enough.

Now what? A breakdown? Well, I guess fucking so.

This stuff happens to average people with no talent everyday. The trials and tribulations of the infinitely rich with no talent? Who the fuck cares. Get a life, world.

Shameless Name Dropping and Sex Talk

So, I'm having drinks and dinner last night on College Street with my TV personality-feminist-social activist-lawyer-friend and we are getting a sweet buzz and talking really loudly about the sexualization of teen women, trash culture, mass media, blow jobs and such and I look to the table next to us and who is sitting there talking about orgasms (I think) a lot quieter than we are? Ex-Much VJ and star of sexually-explicit, critics fave film Shortbus, Sook Yin-Lee. How a propos.

Have I mentioned that I love my city?

Lily Munster - Dead!

Canadian actress Yvonne De Carlo - better known to my generation as Lily Munster - died this week. R.I.P. you sexy, bitchy immortal vampiress. Herman was never man enough for you. If only we had been born at different times...ahhhhh.

Ok, that's all you're getting from me today. My brain is currently floating in Creemore and it writhes in pain every time I try to wring any semblance of a thought out.

Happy F Day to you, K-Crew!

Celebrity Sightings

(KP-Toronto) Some genuine Canadian celebrities were fortunate enough recently to catch glimpses of K-Dough and his intensely private daughter and wife in and around town. Rumour has it that just yesterday, Peter Mansbridge passed the three while shopping for sundries at the shi shi Forest Hill Loblaws on a lovely mid-town mid-afteroon. K-Dough's wife was heard to whisper "Geez- by the light of day, Mansbridge looks like his own father".

Only days before, while weekday brunching at Grapefruit Moon, a popular Annex eatery, radio/TV personality Dini Petty was overheard making sweet remarks to K-Dough's daughter Kay-Dough. Wrapped in her favourite embroidered jean jacket, Hello Kitty pom pom touque and Amsterdam knit scarf, the precocious child was delighted to hear Petty utter the prophetic phrase: "Wow, she's going to be the next cool chick of the future".

Ahh, the T-Dot is a glorious town, isn't it?

Iggy Fiddles as Future Burns

You may remember several months ago when Ashley MacIsaac appeared on several K-Dough threads (click HERE) babbling mostly incomprehensible nonsense about wanting to run in the Liberal leadership race. Well, he pretty much disappeared after that little grease fire, but now he is back with a flaming vengeance. It looks as if he is dragging Michael Ignatieff down the proverbial hair-clogged drain pipe with him.

Yesterday, Iggy appeared on stage in Toronto with the precocious maritime nutter MacIsaac. Apparently, this availability was strategically designed to get youth to vote for Iggy. Brilliant campaigning wouldn't you say? I can see the headlines now "Harvard prof, distinguished author and hopeful next PM of Canada befriends BDSM loving, blathering, spit-chinned, bow dragger in bid to secure the stupid vote".

My question for you smarty-pantsed Iggy campers: What broad section of youth does Asher appeal to exactly? Who the hell under 25 even knows who he is? If you can't figure shit like this out, how do you expect to be able to run a national party? You're way out of touch kids.

Zanta Strikes Again

I don't know how I have successfully avoided writing about this super mega-nutcase before, but I've finally caved. For those of you who live in or frequent downtown Toronto, Zanta requires no introduction. For those who don't, you'll need a little background, which you can get HERE or at his personal web site HERE. In short, Zanta is a shirtless (even in the winter) santa hat wearing alien with ripped abs, who yells unintelligible greetings at tour buses, chats with pedestrians and does countless push ups on the streets of the T-Dot. Zanta is frivolity personified.

Last year, City TV/Much Music station staff became obsessed with trying to keep him out of their street shots (artists and directors tend to get moody and jealous if they aren't always the focus of the lens). Zanta liked fame and sought it during every moment of his waking life, but the guy just got too pervasive. City TV, the station that professes to be the media outlet of the common people refused to help Zanta promote himself. I mean really- what were they getting out of it (read: City/Much has become a pompous, vain corporate entity like any other). So, they went to the police and then the courts to get rid of him.

But Zanta would not be discouraged. He moved to fresh climes. Since his legal banishment from the cool kids' kingdom south of College Street, Zanta has frequented the intersection of College and Yonge. On many occassions, I've seen him accosting awkward, puzzled citizens from just outside the windows of Baroli Cafe, my espresso haunt. Zanta endures and can't be contained by injunctions or restraining orders. Zanta is like the wind and moves where nature compels him. Zanta is Zen in motion. In fact, from now on, I will always think of him as Zenta.

In the picture above, taken this week, Zanta has once again captured our hearts and imagination. And once again, he has really pissed someone off. This time in Yorkville, the spiritual mecca of the snooty and idle rich. Zanta is again doing his best work- stealing the spotlight from those who hog it, and giving to the less fortunate- himself. All hail Zanta.

By the way, what the fuck is that washed up has-been Michael Keaton doing at the film festival anyway? He should be grateful someone took a picture of him at all. If weren't for Zanta's cameo, I doubt anyone would have.

If you are so inclined, HERE is an online flash version of a documentary on Zanta's bizarre life.

Shameless Flogging

I have no shame or scruples. In fact, I don't even know what scruples are. All I know is that you need to check out this site and help my friends choose their first radio single, which will be released very, very soon. My friends' names are Mike Turner (ex-OLP) and Pete Lesperance (Harem Scarem). Their band is called Fair Ground. You will be hearing a lot about them very soon.

What this whole project amounts to is a democratization of the music industry decision-making process. In my books, that is cool shit. Who needs stuffed shirts to tell you what you should be listening to?

Check out the tunes. If you don't like them, don't vote. Simple as that. The response to date has been phenomenal. Already, thousands have surfed on in to check out the blog and tunes. Media have talked about it. Be all that you can be.

So, get up out of that saggy chair and...no wait- stay on that chair because it's really hard to click when you stand up. Call your Mom and say "hey, come on over Mom. Let's have a shot of Jagermeister and vote for a Fair Ground tune. We don't spend enough quality time together." Take your wireless lap top out into your empty in-ground pool. Smoke a joint. Take off your pants. Put on oven mitts and work boots, paint your face orange and vote. Often. Vote like your life depends on it. Vote like you really have to pee. What-the-fuck-ever.

Please? I love you. No really. I do.

Rock Stars Launch Blog!

Check out the new blog and voting page (click here) of Fair Ground, the new Canadian rock band feat. guitarists Mike Turner (former Our Lady Peace) and Pete Lesperance (Rubber/Harem Scarem) will be blogging daily - for the next few weeks only - about life in the music industry. They will also be asking fans to choose their first radio single in an online poll, and offering fans a free Mp3 download of a song just for voting!


Please help support this independent project by DLing the banner code at the Fair Ground myspace page (click here). Then install it anywhere and everywhere you can. Send it to your friends if you can. If you want something smaller or of a different dimension let me know.

Thanks so much for your help kids. And don't worry- I will regain my sense of humour at some point. Until then it's just work work work.....

P.S.- Pls pls pls don't forget to click "Recommend This Post" just under this post. It will help get the word out!

Lewis Deserves Nobel Prize

Has anyone seen this online petition to have Stephen Lewis nominated for the 2007 Nobel Peace Prize? I think it's a fab idea. He has long been a remarkable Canadian and I, for one, think he deserves to be recognized in a big way for his efforts in Africa.

Go sign it if you agree!

Sex: The Road to Ruin

Dear Readers:

I am really disappointed in you Blogospherians out there. Yesterday, when I floated the idea about Mitsou running for the Liberal leadership, I thought you intelligent, sensitive people would take the time to truly consider her qualities and strengths. The commentary quickly degenerated into a torrent of school yard sexual innuendo. I will admit that, I, too, was caught up in the waxing on how Mitsou's moist pouty lips and ample bosom might sex up our dehydrated and prudish parliament. But Mitsou doesn't deserve the objectification we forced upon her.

This Mitsou madness must end, I tell you, before it overtakes this blog's content completely.

So, I'll just say this: Mitsou, if you are out there, wearing a tiny, tiny, tiny see-through neligee, sucking gently on a fresh, ripe cherry as you playfully pull it from your mouth, slightly glistening with...no, stop me! For the love of dry pants everywhere, we must bring back Paul Martin. He made everything seem sexless, cold and unfunny, just like an episode of the Air Farce or a Photoshopped Celine Dion porn spread. We have to remove the steering wheel from this sex drive before it plunges us into the mucky ditch of un-Canadianess!!!

Mitsou for Leader!

Public Notice: I hereby nominate Mitsou, French-Canadian sex goddess, cultural guru and musical artist for the leadership of the Liberal Party of Canada. Not only is Mitsou completely bilingual, she is hot as hell. Hotter than over-microwaved poutine. Hotter than Kiss' classic song Hotter Than Hell. Mitsou is so hot, she could set ablaze the petrified wooden panties of that sexually-ambiguous sasquatch, Deborah Grey. Let the bland young Liberals and toothless party faithful debate Brison, Bob and Belinda. But without Mitsou, the party will never again reach across the lap of this country and gently brush it's inner thigh as if it didn't mean to, with a coquettish smile.

Can't you just hear Bye Bye Mon Cowboy blasting through a convention centre in the next election, as Mitsou sashays across the stage with a giant cardboard cut-out of that picture of Harper in a Stetson? This is forward thinking - something sadly missing from the current dialogue.

Mitsou, if you are out there right now reading this, sitting in front of the fuzzy pink computer in your chic boudoir, wearing nothing but a sheer, tight white tank top and tracing the edge of your coffee cup with a slightly-moistened index finger: You must contact me ASAP so we can begin to put your winning campaign in motion. Now that Martin is gone, there are some boobs to fill. We'll re-brand and turn that tired old Liberal Party into the fresh and sexy Ample Party it could be!