CHARLIE SHEEN, SHUT THE FUCK UP AND SUCK MY DICK!

Fuck that Charlie Sheen.

Fuck him up his stupid ass.

That whiny, self-centred, sanctimonious, spiteful little bitch is everywhere.

That overpaid twat shouldn’t bother me, but he does.

I am sick of his name.

I am sick of his face.

I am sick of his voice.

I am sick of his backpedalling, backstabbing, backbiting, hand-biting and bridge-burning every time he turds out a Tweet.

He thinks that he may be funny. He thinks that he’s still cool. He thinks that he can be a hit with all the ladies. He assumes that everyone will empathise and sympathise with his perceived plight.

He believes that he is owed an apology. He believes that he’s entitled to damages.

I don’t know about you, but he’s at least entitled to a foot up his backside.

When someone has talent and a good thing on the go, a rational mind would force that person to work hard on keeping them. I would call that the art of maintaining a personal status quo: whatever works, don’t fix; whatever is doable, do it right; whatever good is sown, reap and share the bounty.

If I had followed the blueprint set by my parents, I would’ve had Charlie Sheen’s job – or at least something resembling it.

I would’ve had the lovely talented wife, the beautiful children, lots of spending money, a roof over my head, a steady, guaranteed job surrounded by good people…

At this point, I’m happy with the last 2. I’ll be damned to let them slip away.

But all this money must’ve woken up a winning monster inside that Estevez kid.

Back in the day I would’ve love to dance with Al and Coco, and maybe bring Tina, Mary and Harry along for the ride, if Sid and Stacy didn’t mind. For some reason, I chose Al and Mary, then simply stuck with Al. Now I prefer Nico’s company – no Homo.

But old Carlos would rather dance with the thin white duchess and fuck everyone over in the process. What a winner.

He would take up a skanky pr0n h0 and tie and beat her senseless.

He has lost the confidence of his bosses, his wife, his kids, his mind and eventually his job.

All his interviews will not save his scrawny ass. All his Tweets will not redeem his tarnished soul.

For Sanity’s sake, Charlie Sheen must be destroyed.

He should be bound to a mountain face by heavy chains where raptors can feed off a pound of his flesh – only to be regenerated to be eaten again.

He should be prodded mercilessly by pitchforks wielded by enraged denizens of Chuck Lorre’s ancestral shtetl.

He should be fed to the tigers from which he stole their blood so he could live his winning lifestyle.

He should be set upon by trannies in whatever jail to which he may be sent.

He should be bound to a chair in a metal shack deep in the heart of Death Valley in the middle of summer and be forced to watch ALL his movies and TV shows.

He should be crucified to a burning cross.

He should be guillotined with a blunt, rusty blade.

He should be rolled in powdered sugar and then be left at the mercy of ravenous ants. Preferably in a remote part of the Amazonian rain forest.

He be sent on the next NASA probe heading to the Sun.

He should be sealed in Davey Jones’s locker.

He should be dressed as a pig, then air-dropped into the middle of Mecca. During Ramadan. Or maybe the Hajj. Same diff.

He should be burned alive.

He should be frozen alive.

He should be hanged, drawn and quartered, then have the remains in remand, then put back together. Repeat.

He should be fed to a volcano.

He should be fed to the Kraken.

He should be shot.

But most of all, he should just shut up, walk away and not come back until he can fix himself up and learn to live in the human race.

I hope he does that, because if he doesn’t…

I’m just going to ignore him.

A Romantic Hater's Valentine's Day Wish

"Love can be as sticky as a vat of molasses, as unpalatable as a hunk of spoiled yeast, and as all-consuming as a six-alarm fire in a bamboo and canvas tent." - Rod Serling, "Twilight Zone"


Happy Valentine's Day, Suckas.

OKAY... SO I LIED.JUST ONE MORE POST, OKAY?

Right about now, I'm watching the 2009 MuchMusic Video Awards via muchmusic.com. The fangrrlz and fanboyz have invaded the chat line inundating it with Jonas and GaGa.

Poor kids... they don't know that this is just another video awards show.

And I remembered when the awards featured Canadian artists.

Why did much choose the Jonases to co-host? Did we run out of talent?

I can think of quite a few people who could co-host this shit better than the JoBros.

Whoever is charge of this year's show ought to get 10-to-life.

BTW - since when is Perez Hilton considered CanCon? Any answers? Just wondering.

The Occasional Rant: I am convinced that my country is now run by idiots.

I admit it... I voted Conservative in the last federal election. I expected positive change, responsible and accountable leadership, and a general betterment of our national well-being.

What I didn't expect was the following:

1. The failure to get a majority in the last election.
   
   Whoever ran their campaign was either asleep, complacent or hopelessly dumb. Never did I see an ad that said what the Conservative Party of Canada could do for this country. Hell, none of the other parties ran similar ads. Only the New Democrats had some sense of providing a platform, but most Canadians who previously experienced provincial NDP rule knew better than to vote for more taxes and Federally-sanctioned political correctness.
   
   It appears in order to win an election in the 21^st century©, the political ads should be saying variations of "You suck", "Suck it", "STFU" or "ESAD" to their respective rivals. "Promises be damned: I'm-a pwn yo' ass!"
   
   The Conservatives simply got a second chance at power because the fibbing Liberal alternative was unacceptable at the time. After all, who wanted to be ruled by Céline Dion? The problem was, and is, that the Conservatives are giving Canadians no other good reason why they should deserve another mandate, other than the fact that we have been free from any attacks by Islamofascist militias, and that Québec is still part of Confederation (all for the sake of telling the Yankx - "Here's why we're not you").
   
   Maybe Hell is starting to get a cold front. Maybe we might get a Prime Minister named Jack.
   
   Maybe I should get to the next point;
   
   
2. Kanada's Kandahar Kuagmire. (Unfortunate choice of lettering, but who am I to impress?)
   
   Right about now my brothers and sisters are in one of the most dangerous places in Central Asia. We may be doing right, getting right and making right, but something is wrong.
   
   We're simply not getting the love.
   
   To be fair, this mission was a holdover from the previous Liberal Chretien/Martin (WHO? LOL!) regime. We wanted to show the world what we could to against terrorists, fanatics and the corrupt cesspools that spawned them. After jumping in wearing forest-green combats (imagine a dab of relish on hummus - YUCK!), we got our act together, got proper camo, had our highs and lows, made a few people happy...
   
   And still... NOTHING WAS DONE!
   
   Material, logistical and political shortfalls notwithstanding, with a little help from our friends the Canucks did the job right. It's just that a) the impotent Afghan "government" couldn't get its act together enough to catch up and step up to alleviate the workload unertaken by an already overworked Canadian Forces (+ "allies") presence; b) our "allies" (read: "NATO") promised more personnel, yet all the countries, save the UK and the Netherlands, were reluctant to give a hand.
   
   At least, for once, we should get some of our new partners from the former Warsaw Pact to help us out. Not only would it make life easier for the World's Hardest Working Armed Forces, but also it could give our Forces a chance to take some much r'n'r'n'r'n'r (rest, recreation, recovery, re-arming), because in spite of being a big country, we have a small population.
   
   Small population equals small tax base.
   
   Small tax base equals relatively small military.
   
   It doesn't take an economist or a general, let alone a DND official, to figure that out.
   
   Too bad it had to take several rotations and over 100 lives for the government to say "Time-out".
   
   Not really anyone's fault, except for those who we tried to help, and whose help we needed WAY BACK WHEN.
   
   As for the third point;
   
   
3. Too hostile - too friendly. But nothing in between.
   
   Back in the day when we were living in a Trudeaucracy under the annointed Jean Chretien, we told W in no uncertain terms that we would not take part in Iraq nor the missile shield programon the grounds that we want everyone to like us.
   
   Then when Steve-O came to power, it was huggy huggy kiss kiss kiss. Still no Iraq, "but we're sticking with you, W." It may not have been a bad thing but by then people realised that the US Military was doing the "War by Playstation" shtick - by ousting tyrant Saddam Hussein, the US may have won the war but they are now trying to win the peace, piece-by-piece. But that analysis is best left with someone more qualified in doing theoretical autopsies.
   
   When the Great White Hope Barack Obama came to power and visited Canada, guess what happened?
   
   Huggy huggy kiss kiss kiss.
   
   I don't mind having having great relations with our neighbours to the South - we got stuff, they got cash, more money and jobs for us, eh? - there there should always be a time for Canadian politicians to say "We like you, but not in that way."
   
   In other words, being honest can hurt. Having an honest friend can be very painful, but you have a better chance at survival than having a dishonest sycophant.
   
   Not to be outdone;
   
   
4. The justice system still sucks!
   
   What's up with "time served"?
   
   You know - the "two-fer-one" deals made to the condemned once they're sentenced.
   
   Case in point: some kid who got himself entangled with a Toronto-based Islamofascist cell was sentenced to over 2 years at Club Fed.
   
   Then he got released.
   
   Why?
   
   Because he already spent that same amount of time in remand.
   
   Go figure. If you do the crime, then you should do the time. No ifs, ands or buts. You got remand? Boo-hoo-hoo - that's your problem.
   
   That's the point of punishment: you knock enough sense into someone who did the offence so that person doesn't do it again.
   
   But we are a society that cares for the poor misbegotten individuals caught up in a world of larceny and vice, hoping that these wretched weeds bloom into the beautiful, fragrant flowers to which they were meant to be.
   
   Sadly, reality states that once someone is in that life, it's a long hard road to recovery.
   
   The power, the thrill, the danger - that's why some people become gangsters.
   
   Forget poverty, racism, class-ism, ageism. Desperate people are everywhere, at times susceptible to the bug of evil. That is why there is a justice system.
   
   Of course, we did vote in a party dedicated to restoring some proper law and order.
   
   So where is it? We're still waiting. Hello?
   

So... when will the Tories take charge, eh? Libs, NDP-ers and Greens need not answer nor speculate.

And why is the Bloc still around in Parliament? Just wondering.

Eventually, "reality"© shows will look like this...

...inside a swank Montreal restaurant-turned TV studio, 30 performers selected from bars across Quebec squared off head to head - and pole to pole - for provincial striptease supremacy...

Cue the music, the drama and catfights. Welcome to "Pole Position Quebec", where the winner will get to give it up for paying patrons south of the Can-US border. And giving them a little rise in an area south of their own respective borders.

My take on "reality"© programmes is quite simple: most of them are geared to appeal to the Schadenfreude that each of us harbour, whether they may be obsessive singing competitors, morbidly obese people, clueless trust-fund hussies or substance-fuelled skanks vying for the affections of faded Z-list musicians.

In short, "reality"© shows are legalised, above-ground ready-for-prime-time porn: sometimes titllating, sometimes repulsive yet ultimately addictive.

Could these shows collectively be the sign of the Apocalypse? While some shows like A&E's "Intervention" - a show to which I personally relate - and Animal Planet's "Crocodile Hunter" have a conderable amount of relevancy and educational content, the rest such as "The Bachelor", "Rock of Love" and even "American Idol" grate at the average person's basest intelligence.

The made-in-Québec special will pit the stripper-ellas of the belle province against each other in an effort to get a lucrative contract Stateside (and hopefully not to blow it all on meth).

Thankfully, this "reality"© special will be shown on pay-per-view here in Canada, but don't be surprised if some Stateside smartass comes up with an "American Pornstar" to rival the "Idol" franchise.

I sure can't wait for that. NEXT...

Do you ever get the feeling that this is already happening?

And so it goes...

TRUDEAU - oops... OBAMA WINS!(G-d help us all - Barack included...)

Who thought they didn't see it coming?

When a candidate works hard to woo the middle, s/he would eventually be crowned.

Truth be told - everybody lost.

McCain lost because he refused to back up his policies with a sense of resolve and urgency. He never gotten around, let alone bothered, to explain why the policies proposed by Obama were doomed either to failure or to severe scrutiny. Nor did he ever explain why his policies were better and more cost-effective in the simplest, least technical, terms. He failed the middle.

Barack lost because right about now he'll have to fugure out how to pay for all the goodies promised to the electorate. Sure... he looks great in a suit. He talks smooth. Yet he is beholden to the ideals of the modern day Democratic Party and the new-age "Liberals" from which he draws his insprations. Now, he beholden to the masses who cast their votes for and against him. Worse, he will be forced to walk the tighrope above those ravenous for results in order for him to deliver the agenda that he worked so hard to sell. For a bill still to be compiled and calculated, he failed the middle.

It's too easy to blame the "mainstream" media for the good/bad/ugly/fugly that permeated the campaigns. Many saw Barack to be the "Funky President" envisioned by the Godfater of Soul himself. Yes, Virginia... there is a difference between being funky, getting funky and smelling funky. And the sheeple who come to the trough, eat it up and take the innuendoes as gospel may yet grow to appreciate it in due time. Even the tabloid came to the attack when Palin (Sarah, not Michael) came on the scene, creating an outburst of PMS (Palin Malignment Syndrome), exposing the slightest of gaffes and simplest of shortcomings.

To their credit, Palin should've stepped up to the plate with more than a heartbeat and a smile. Most Americans were asking "Where's the beef" and she should've delivered. Yet when she failed to do so to the masses' satisfaction, the "mainstream" press would crucify her. It's easy to praise an unproven Messiah than respect a wisened Maverick, while the Rolling Stone was quick to crown the upstart the same way that Napoleon was quick to crown himself. The "mainstream" failed the middle.

In the end, when the dust has settled, there will be work to be done. As soon as it's done, the costs will be tallied, the cheques will be written, and the man who would be king will have a lot on his plate to divvy amongst those to which he would have to delegate, some of who have created crises that the previous ruler had to resolve, sometimes with pleasant results, sometimes with hideous outcomes. Eventually, it will be the novice's turn to work with the leftovers to create somthing that may appear palatable, yet distubingly familiar.

If he were to succeed and make things right, the middle may have won.

If he were to fail and create more new crises, then it would not be him who failed the middle.

It would be the middle themselves.

The Occasional Rant - Just Watch The Damn Video

Sometimes, even the bad guys need a break.


'No Values Voters' Looking To Support Most Evil Candidate

The Occasional Rant:Polite Country, Aren't We?

We're so polite no-one would ever think about messing with us, eh?

Otherwise, someone might wind up losing his head.

Literally.

By now, the whole world knows that Canada is a great country to live in.

A safe place full of peace loving peoples and knife wielding psychos.

Because where else can you feel safe riding a bus anywhere, let alone drive one in any given city?

Consider the fact that our crime rates are always falling.

Even the fictional Ministry of Truth in Orwell's "1984" (a very prophetic book, IMO) couldn't come up with anything sunnier than what StatsCan™ would cook up on any given day.

Yes, kids - this is shaping up to be one HELL of a summer here in the Great White North.

Thank fuck.

The shortest distance between 2 points is not always connected by a straight line.

Two years sober and counting.

Two years without gambling... okay - so I relapsed a couple of times but I'm doing fine.

Two years without a hangup, sexual, social, political or otherwise.

The problem about living post-addiction is that there always seem to be a tempting aftertaste of the drug of choice taken.

I miss the sharp sweetness of a double vodka and diet coke, the way it would hit the back of the throat and burn its way down the esophagus to the stomach. I miss the eventual buzz that it would induce, and the loosening of inhibitions and morals at any given party.

I miss the rush obtained by rolling two dice at the craps table at Casino Nova Scotia. The noise, the chaos, the anticipation that the right number would come up at the right time - would it be a deuce, double deuce or midnight? I miss the ritual and suspense involved with the roll, the many eyes of fellow desperate beings staring at me, praying that I wouldn't seven-out them of whatever hard-earned money that they would put on the table.

I miss all the orgasms that I have obtained, regardless of means, both legit and illicit. The adventure, the danger, the thrill of witnessing, ravishing and obtaining human flesh so that for one fleeting moment, the pain of reality would go away.

It takes but one taste to get you hooked. And that taste will never leave you.

The taste can redefine the way you look at the world, treat the people, spend the money and even read these worlds.

People would lie, cheat, steal and kill for its effects, its rush, its power and the illusion of empowerment.

I lived for the taste. I wanted more of it. I wanted to re-live the feeling of the initial rush every time I took it.

I spent a lot of money pursuing that first rush. I wanted that high to be more intense, more empowering.

Yet with every high, there is a crash, each one being worse, bloodier and more costly than the last.

In pursuit of the taste I had dug a hole so deep that the only way to get out is to keep digging in the faint hope that I could see light at the other end.

Even though I am enjoying sobriety, the reality of my life and the things surrounding it is no less easier. All the things that I had put off due to my drinking, gambling and whoring ways have returned to haunt me. Negligence has its price. Looking back becomes a habit, a sick perverse obsession. A part of me wants to reinvent the wheel when it comes to taking stock of what led me to my current situation.

I thought I could save the world. I thought I could change it. I thought I could be king in a short time.

But after years of living like a god, I started to realise that soon, I'll die like a man and be buried like everyone else, because I am no longer the wild and crazy kid that I thought I was - at least in my own fevered mind. With all the excesses and the resulting mayhem, in the wake of what seemed to be an endless storm fueled by want of immediate gratification, I emerged battered, bloodied, naked and in pain.

But I am not dead.

Not that I really wanted to live forever - I'm just too scared to die before achieving my full potential. There are too many things to do and accomplish for me to toss in the proverbial towel and cash out of this mortal coil.

Life is full of unexpected experiences, both good and bad. No matter what could happen on any given day, I am still standing.

Because of my sobriety and my willingness to pursue and healthier, more fulfilling life, I consider every day to be a birthday.

I don't miss the stupidity, silliness and hangovers.

I don't miss the losses and disappointments.

I don't miss the guilt and embarrassment and shame of the morning-after and the ensuing ruination of lives.

But most of all, I don't miss the taste, even though it will in my body, mind and soul until I take my final breath.

I have done enough sinning in my life. I have gorged enough forbidden fruit to make the vilest of men sick. I have bitten off more that I could chew and burnt so many bridges that I might as well take a deep breath and move forward.

My name is Jacques. I was, I am and always will be an addict, pervert, scoundrel, jealous bastard, wanton lover and romantic hater.

And I am still alive.

And these days, I never could have felt this great.

Thank G-d for the wisdom to know the difference. Amen.

Oh... and by the way - I still love to create.

Tim Russert has his work cut out for him in Heaven.

Some people say the real cowboys die with their boots on.

Some people think that dying on the fields of battle is more than heroic - it's an honourable death.

Others say that work can kill you, and they may be right.

But by any standards, Tim Russert died too young, his work on this mortal plain unfinished.

Then again, life and death happens, and with the rash of politicians lining up in front of the proverbial Pearly Gates growing longer, it's only fair that G-d of our Understanding would call Tim up.

Whether you love him, loathe him or both, Tim almost always put on a good show in "meet the Press". He deserves some major props for daring others to follow his lead, his flow, his style.

Now Sundays, for the armchair statesmen and pundits, will become crappy.

Now I hope the Duffster doesn't follow Russert too soon, because this will doubly suck.

The Occasional Rant: The CBC fucks up... yet again!

May I have your attention, please?

For the past week, Canada's other anthem - one might even say that it's the most sacred Saturday night hymn - was at the centre of controversy.

The dispute centred on the theme song to the CBC's "Hockey Night in Canada" (a.k.a. "HNIC").

Ask any Canuck about HNIC and s/he will tell you that it's one of the best shows to watch on a Saturday night in wintertime, showcasing the good, bad and ugly of the best game you can name.

Considering that hockey is Canada's unofficial state religion, any tinkering with rules, uniforms and even rituals would be considered worse than blasphemous. Even radical Islamofascism has some boundaries - as long as you don't insult the Prophet (PBUH), they're cool. Mess with anything that has to do with hockey, and you'll have one big fat Canadian fatwah (and Don Cherry) on your sorry hairy arse.

I've grown to accept the HNIC theme as part of the landscape and that of the CBC, who insinuated itself into the Hoser psyche as the purveyor of the game on ice.

Sadly, the theme's composer wanted to get paid a little more because of its popularity.

Considering that we are the amongst most taxed people in the history of Western Civilisation©, we thought that the CBC, a Crown Corporation, would be able to settle this affair accordingly. Right?

Sadly, the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation has long been a victim of its own paradigm paralysis - even though it sees itself as the protector of Canadian Culture™, the Powers That Be have no clue how to improve it's management and profitability. In its dispute with the composer's estate, it cried poverty. Towards the end of the week, the CBC decided to hold a competition on a possible replacement. Pathetic.

Enter the CTV, CBC's rival.

Right about now, this company pwns a goodly chunk of Canadian pop culture, from its own stable of radio and tv stations to specialty channels such as TSN, MuchMusic and franchises such as the Discovery Channel and MTV. (Yes... that eMpTy-V!) There was no doubt that one day, it might come to eclipse the so-called Mother Corp.

And earlier today, it did just that.

So what does that mean for the CBC? What does it say about the erstwhile, self-proclaimed guardian of Canadian Culture™?

Well... it's another great example on how a once-respected institution could get so bloated on it own sanctimonious arrogance and delusion that it could succeed in sabotaging its own attempt at retaining and maintaining the respect of its core audiences.

You might say that the CBC had committed a little social and public-relations suicide.

But that would involve competency, and in the end, it was the CTV that wound up pulling the trigger to finish the job.

And so, there you go.

Where I'm at...June '08 edition

Well... another Sunday. Another start of a grueling work week.

And for some strange reason, I'm so amped.

So here are a few plans that need to be taken care of.

Prioritizing can be a bitch, but this is the best that I can come up.

And if none of this makes any sense, it's because I'm making them all up on the fly.

• Thank goodness for obsessive compulsion!
  I found out that I did back up my website on some DVDs after all!
  Now I've got to find a good, reliable and cheap server to hold all this stuff.
  The sooner I get it, the better.
  The problem is that money is always too tight, and settling in a strange city full of strangers require setting up a certain quality of life.
  So for now, world conquest is on hold.


• For those who do not yet know, I have a YouTube Channel called "The Jacques Treatment".
  It's just like this blog, but this time you get to know a little more about me and how I manage the method of madness.
  Currently, I'm mapping out a couple of projects with 3 cams, several pages full of scribblings and a fevered imagination.
  Not unlike this blog.
  So drop in, subscribe and hopefully we could all start a revolution, one vid at a time, one day at a time.
  And by the way - don't forget my friends. They're all waiting for you. Now.
  
  
• Last year, my bike was stolen.
  Since I sold my car back in '06, the bike had been my means of transportation, and has help me keep my weight down.
  But in early '07, some heartless fucker managed to bypass the Kryptonute locking system and jack my ride.
  This year, I'm being a little more careful.
  Even though my crib is a bit cramped as it is, I'm keeping my new ride inside.
  Which is all the better: the area, while not considered bad by urban standards, has its share of hooligans.
  The other day, the apartment building's front door's Plexiglas had been smashed. The adjacent window was also smashed.
  Who knows what kind of shit goes down in the hood, but I'm not budging for the next little while.
  After all, moving is quite expensive, and I'm trying to keep everything under budget.
  

Anyways... I'm tired, thirsty and ready to crash in a major way. Stay safe.

Reverend Wright may be right...(but at least he should've worded it better...)

I'm not too much of a fan of American politics nowadays, mainly because the people that are running things - people of MY generation - may have lost the fine art of leadership.

This lack of leadership, and the confusion that it can create, is apparent when the Reverend Wright issued his "God damn America" sermon.

True - it has offended the conservative sphere is such a way that some are calling for his head to be served (examples here, here, and here).

Right about now - at the risk of permanently alienating conservatives, right-libertarians and anti-idiotarians everywhere even further, here is Rev. Wright's sermon (courtesy of the "Huffington Post")...



In context of this sermon, Wright has good reason why politics can alienate groups of people due to the whims of various leaders. In that context, people should have the right to rage against the machine.

Having said all that, Wright is still crying "Victim" in this sermon. As someone who is not a X-tian, this would upset God quite a bit.

Obsessing about the past can be a dangerous thing. Many people overcompensate their shortcomings or their trespasses by either starting wars (yes - even this current war!), engaging in addictions <puts hand up> or becoming an emasculated shadow of one's self. Continuous self reflection isolates you from the mainstream, prevents you from seeing the big picture and may even exacerbate the failures and errors that you have committed in the past.

If Reverend Wright wants to help the people, he shouldn't promote self-defeatism by laying blame solely on the oppressors - past, present, future. Playing the victim card politically, socially or racially can backfire and harm even the people you're trying to save.

The people are the engineers of their own successes and failures. By forever demanding entitlement, concessions and payback on the basis of victimhood, Reverend Dr. Jeremiah Wright may be cheapening the whole concept. That's the real crime of this sermon - not anti-Americanism, but constant self-victimisation.

Amen. Next...

The Occasional Rant - Jeff Healy / I stand corrected on Ellen Page / A tale of 2 Steve-O's

My work sucked donkeys Monday night.

Maybe because it was the first Monday of the month, where the mundane became weird and the weird became completely obnoxious.

If I had a dollar for every single company store cock-up, I wouldn't be blogging: I'd be banking, partying and sit around in South Beach sipping vodka sours and watching the thongs pass by.

The suck-ass weather didn't help matters much either. My sinuses went Jihadi and forced me to knock back the last sinus care caplet with my morning tea.

It was one of the worst of times to be on my best behaviour. And even that it getting tested beyond its breaking point.

Enough of my life. Here we go...

1. Angel eyes on Jeff. Back in the day, Jeff Healy could rock the blues and funk the jazz out of his Strat. Like the other Jeff (Jeff Beck), he could bend the fuck out of his notes while the single coils transmit the sonic fire to the masses.
   Most of all, Jeff Healy was a gentleman, a Mensch, a sonic entrepreneur who parleyed his talents to different avenues such as his own hot jazz/blues club in the T-dot.
   But, for those who know better, Jeff was a fighter and a survivor. The cancer that stole his eyes didn't steal his love of music, nor did it still the hands that wrenched it out of any Fender that was lying around at any time.
   Last Sunday night, Jeff went down fighting.
   Charlie was too tenacious, too fast, too ingrained.
   Charlie didn't care who he took. Be it man, woman, child, Charlie was a glutton for flesh, tissue, organs and cells.
   But Charlie can never take souls. He failed to still Jeff's hunger for the perfect sound and stifle his dream of doing good for the love of music.
   Love. Music. Life. The God-blessed trinity that keep me alive fueled Jeff's life, right to the end.
   Our existence on this planet is always transient, yet the works and legacies that we create will outlive us for better, for worse, and for those willing to follow in our steps.
   Jeff was but one of many. Yet, at 41, he had lived and loved more than people twice his age, if only because his life, like ours, was transient.
   For me, 41 is too damn young. My sister's 41. I was once 41. And yet we all felt that there was more work to be done, more sights to see, more mountains to climb.
   We'll see you on the other side, Jeff Healy.
   My condolences, love and respect to those who loved him.
   
   
2. Gauging Page again. I swear that this will be the last time I take Ellen Page's name in vain again.
   A few posts ago, I've mentioned that Ellen may be this generation's Molly Ringwald.
   Then, while I was at work, something really hit me.
   Ellen is not- repeat, not - Molly.
   She's our Christina Ricci.
   Or maybe Winona Ryder.
   In fact, after watching "Juno" and "Hard Candy", I believe that Ellen has the versatility possessed by these 2 stars.
   Having said that, I should just go and get a life instead.
   Ellen is simply... Ellen. And I'll leave it at that.
   
   
3. A tale of 2 Steve-O's. As I'm getting next to comatose, I'll keep these 2 items short.
   a) Steve-O busted.
   b) Steve-O busted.
   Discuss amongst yourselves. Which one is more Jackass than the other?
   Can you see the difference?
   Maybe it's because one of them beat up something while the other one is getting beaten up from all sides.
   Who will survive? Stay tuned.
   

And so, there you go.

JacqueSnack - If J-Roc had a sister...

she'd probably be like this.

Snapshot: Page still pwns our hearts!

The lady who played la Môme Piaf pwned the Golden doorstop for best actress.

I was expecting Julie Christie, but Marion Cotillard looked nice.

Thank goodness I've quit betting a long time ago... the race is tighter than a dead miser's fist.

As for Ellen... keep on trucking and you'll be pwning, Kid.

The Jacques Treatment: Tears 4 Spears

You've seen how I write.

Now, see this...



A little bit spontaneous and rough (I just have to work on my tagline)considering that I just arrived home from work, but I pulled no punches on this sucker.

Now, I can relax.

Big ups: Michael Buckley - the second coming of Max Headroom and his projects "What the Buck Show" and "Buck Hollywood". It sure beats watching ET, Inside Edition, Excess Hollywood and all the other celeb-pr0n tubetrash. He gives good love. Send some back his way. Tell him that Jacques sent you.

Big Ups - Oh, My Gaahl; ANVIL PWNS!

Is Gaahl from Gorgoroth the Britney of Death Metal?

I've stumbled upon this nugget on VBS just by accident.

By the time I've gotten around to seeing the whole show, I'm quite convinced that Gaahl has some pretty serious issues. But it's not up to me to make the ultimate call.

Check this out...

At long last, some love for Anvil.

Major love.

As in... "It's about muthafuckkin time" love.

From the site...

Anvil! The Story Of Anvil is the name of the documentary on ANVIL directed by Sacha Gervasi, who wrote the Steven Spielberg movie, The Terminal. It will be premiered at the Sundance Film Festival which runs January 17-27, 2008. Sacha is an old friend of the band's that used to do some roadie work for them back in the 1980's. The website for the film is http://anvilmovie.com.

I'm-a seeing this. You should too. If you think Metallica© is the shit, think again. Without Anvil, they would still be touring dives to this day.

Big Ups.

The Unknown Good Stuff In '06 and '07:How I Lived to be 44 So Far

In spite of what I had to go through these years, I feel a little more empowered and free.

No more would I need an excuse to get hammered on my spare time, nor find myself broke for any other reason than having to pay rent, groceries and utilities.

(Okay... I did have to get games for the Playstation, but that's another story.)

I could finally fit into my jeans. After spending so much time struggling to fit 38 inches into a 32-inch pair of dungarees, I had to tighten my belt quite a bit.

Poverty and starvation can do that. Trust me.

All kidding aside, I am in process of releasing all these years of anger and self-loathing that ironically have driven my previous endeavours, both legit and illicit.

The funny thing about creativity and maintaining muses is that there has to be something that nourishes the process and perpetuates the momentum. Sometimes, the spark would come from a single, repetitive act, an occurring ritual that would define a person's head space. Sometimes, there would be a chemically induced revelation, an alcoholic epiphany, a hallucinogenic awakening that would give birth to a song, a drawing, a rant on a blog.

As you can see, all my writings were done under some kind of influence. And sometimes, like DUI, there would be a little collateral damage.

Have my Muses abandoned me? Has the Fire been squelched? HELL NO!

I believe that through adversity and bullshit, I've become, if not stronger, at least more at peace, more considerate, maybe even more aware of what's around me.

Yes... there will be haters everywhere who will think that once you've got the Disease, you're lost forever. I don't subscribe to the Darwinist fascism of immediate disposability (except for some extreme circumstances). The Disease always has a source, and within that source lies the cure.

Yes, I was, I am, and I will always be an addict. Once you get a taste, the taste will linger as long as you're above ground. For every rush, there will always be the crash, and most true addicts would dwell on the former than contemplate the latter. With sobriety, though, there's no difference between the two - both have equal weight and are necessary to maintain balance and order.

I'll still love and hate as usual, except that my targets will be attainable. I realise that I can't change the world as much as I like - I have enough problem changing myself as it is right now. As for the bridges that I have burned behind me in my years as an addict, leave them be - God will sort out the rest.

In other words, I am still Jacques. Nothing more. Nothing less. And there's still work to be done.