Sharing the Caring

Sometimes, commuting in Toronto traffic can be a chore. Stressful. Anxiety making. But not for me. I have learnt several helpful techniques through my affiliation with the cultists of Set, the Snake God. The Emerald Eyed One is full of help for His Followers, provided, of course, that you help Him get what He wants.

Today was a case in point. I was slogging down one of the major arteries of the city when I was gripped with angst.  So, I just stopped.  I slowed down, coasted to a stop.  I punched on my four way flasher.  Three lanes became two.  Instead of feeling anxiety, I felt refreshed.  I changed my music selection from driving music, to something that would bring me closer to inner peace and tranquility. Sure, traffic was bottle necked behind me. There was honking and swerving. Angry faces. But there is always angry faces in the the commuter lanes. Now, thanks to the wisdom of Set, the Snake God, I was not angry. I was happy. I was at peace.

I picked up my cell phone and smiled sheepishly at the people driving past. I called the wife. She had some ideas for dinner, and I needed to do some shopping. Then, we discussed some changes to a poem I was writing. Then we had phone sex. I felt refreshed. I was not suffering from angst. The people driving by, they were filled with fear, anger, and ill will. They lacked spirit. Could they even be considered human? Were they not just so much slabs of meat being fattened up for the worms? Right around that time the All News, All Traffic radio station began to report a disabled car at my location. I took a deep sigh of contentment, started my car, turned off the four ways, and headed out into the thin traffic ahead, leaving the snarling primates behind me in a cloud of exhaust.

Take advantage of opportunities for reflection
. Are you a chef, a waiter, or an entree? Start being a chef. The chef has freedom; the waiter serves the slop he is told to serve. The entree is the slop. Choose freedom. When the sun rises, rise with it.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this.  I care.

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The Struggle of Light versus Darkness

Every day, the soldiers of the forces of Light struggle against the forces of Darkness. Can you count yourself in one of their number? Go outside at night and look up into the darkness, there you will find street lights. The one shown is known as a Cobra head, and acts as a burning beacon of prayer to Set, the Snake God. What a warming thought. So, when you are out shopping for a new false religion this Christmas season, give thanks to the tireless, unionized, workers who struggle to keep your streets lit at night. And, give a thought to coming over to the local chapter of Set, the Snake God for a drug and liquor drenched orgy as our way of saying welcome.

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Everything was 100% off.

Thank you very much.

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According to the latest figures by Equifax, Canadian’s are in more debt than ever before:

Canadians continue to pile on debt and now collectively owe more than $1.5 trillion, according to the latest figures from Equifax Canada.

The consumer credit rating agency says the level at the end of the third quarter was up 7.4 per cent from $1.409 trillion a year ago.

At the end of the day it matters not that collectively, Canadian’s are the most indebted nation in the world. What matters at the end of the day is how much cool shit we have. Living paycheque to paycheque, hand to mouth, is really no big deal. What is a big deal is a kick-ass giant TV and a poo-load of awesome apps loaded onto a $700 Android. Can’t pay the mortgage? Who cares, check out the new rims on my new Camero. They’re made of gold. They cost 5 million dollars each.

Most folks worry about debt, but if the last 6 years since the Great Financial Crisis has taught The Mayor anything, it’s that we need to embrace debt, let it become someone else’s problem. Like the old adage – if you owe the bank $1 million that’s YOUR problem, if you owe them $100 million that’s THEIR problem.

Now get out there and spend. Kiss debt square on the lips and stick your disgusting whiskey tongue straight down debts mouth. Embrace debt. Love debt. Make love to debt. Doggie debt until until you explode.

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In an interview with The Telegraph UK, “fashion designer” Vivienne Westwood gives us her thoughts on obesity among Britain’s poor:

“People who can’t afford to buy organic food should eat less and stop getting fat.”

Whether you agree with Vivienne Westwood’s comments or not, whether you think she is right or wrong or somewhere in the middle, the one thing The Mayor is positive we can all agree on is that it is hard to take someone seriously when they are as fucking ugly as Vivienne Westwood.

If Scarlett Johansson had said those same words as Vivienne Westwood, we might have said that Johansson was a stupid, ignorant ass, but at least she’s as hot as dripping syphilis. Whereas anything Vivienne Westwood says can never be taken seriously  (especially on the topic of food, because she looks like she’s fed chum by Filipino fishermen) because of her major ugly problem.

Vivienne Westwood would be better suited hanging by her legs at a Mexican child’s birthday party while revellers beat her with sticks until candy exits her bone-rack stomach, than ever opening up that festering gob and spewing ugly.

The Mayor sticks by his comments, and he doesn’t care if Vivienne Westwood never again invites him over to her winter chalet for cheese and select trays of crackers. Besides, her crackers are whole wheat trash and the cheese she serves smells like a dead homeless man that has been laying in the burning sun for 70 hours.

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It’s True, The Mayor IS Alive

Call it a Christmas miracle, The Mayor is alive. Do you want to know what a true miracle would have been? If The Mayor was actually near death and somehow pulled through, but that’s nowhere near the truth.

The truth isn’t important, what is important is that this shit-can website is back and running and the posts will start flowing like illegal/legal Mexicans through a porous American border.

Though not right away, The Mayor is busy for the next few days. Maybe Fenris might put up a post or three, if someone can wake him from his drunken stupor.

Mitchieville is back in business. Hide the sheep.

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Shay, what do you think of the big collar, Hawaiian shirt under a shport’s jacket look I’m shportin’? Ya, it’s pretty shitty, isn’t it?

Sean Connery knows that with each pashing day he’s shtarting to resemble a human catheter more and more, but that doesn’t mean I shtill can’t make the most kick ash loaf of bread you’ll ever eat. Case in point, I am preparing some delishish Apple Oat Bread.

You need to ashemble a cast of indrediants firsht: milk, apple jiush, butta, shuga. shalt, chinomon, white flour, oats, and a bunch of dry yeasht. Shay, that shounds like something my firsht ex-wife Diane Cilento used to eat when I fed her in her shtall at the shtable – that horsh-face lawn gnome.

Anyway, crank up the Black & Decker and let’s get this potty shtarted.

Measure ingredients into pan. Select “white/powdered milk.”

Now push shtart.

When complete, the light will flash green.

Wash your filthy hands

Remove bread.

Wait until the bread cools before slicing. There is no need to be a jackash.

And that’s how you make a delishish loaf of Apple Oat Bread.

Shpeaking of a delishish loaf, Sean Connery is going to the men’s room to pass an Oprah Winfrey. Send in a dove.

**Mitchieville takes no responsibility whatsoever for any advice/advertisement/recommendations or opinion in regard to the Black & Decker Automatic Bread Maker 2000™.

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Malaysian 777 Found

Typically The Mayor would scoff at a story such as this, but the evidence is the evidence, and ya can’t beat the evidence.

Imagine, the 777 was hijacked by aliens. ISLAMIC alien hijackers, no doubt.

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Other than sticking your fingers inside a smelly Tim Horton’s coffee cup in order to roll up the rim in the hopes of winning a donut or coffee, or drinking out of another persons water bottle, there are very few things in life as appalling as The Man Hug. We, as a peoples, managed to live on this earth for the better part of 72, 850 years without The Man Hug, but somewhere around 2005, some arsehole, or arseholes found it necessary to introduce this scourge into our every day life. This abomination must stop. And it must stop today.

There are very few reasons to embrace another man. If you fall off a cliff and lay at the bottom of a mountain and sustain two broken legs and a shattered spleen, and then are found by a search and rescue team who pull you up to their helicopter by ropes that dangle precariously around your waist, there is still no need to Man Hug your rescuers, a thank you will suffice. If you are in a jungle and are cornered by a hungry wildebeest, and out of nowhere some guy shows up and shoots the wildebeest in the face which in turn saves your life, a high five will do nicely, just keep your hugs to yourself, you big sissy.

A hug between father and son is appropriate at times. That’s different. A hug between guy friends is hardly ever appropriate. If your buddy’s mom dies and he tells you the news, it’s ok to grab him, with one hand, by his shoulder, give him a little shake and tell him you’re sorry for his loss. But keep your arms away from his neck, a Man Hug isn’t necessary. It’s just awkward.

If you’re into sports, there are times when a shoulder-to-shoulder Man Hug is acceptable. If it’s the bottom of the third and the outfielder makes a nice catch to end the inning, that certainly doesn’t call for a Man hug. Just smash your glove into his and make a joke about his mother. If it’s the bottom of the ninth and you’re ahead by a run and there’s a guy on first and the batter hits a line drive that the outfielder snags, winning the World Series, then yes, a small, respectable Man Hug is in order.

That’s about it.

There was a time not long ago (before 2005) when hugs were associated with women only. Women hug women for all sorts of stupid reasons, but that was their thing, not ours. Women would hug other women because of a relationship gone bad. They would hug each other when a relationship was going well. They would hug each other if they hadn’t seen each other for five minutes, and they would hug each other if one of them found a coupon for .25 cents off maxi pads. Women hug. alot.

But now guys are into hugs and it just doesn’t make sense. It goes against our nature. Instead of just saying hi, the first thing guys do now is reach out and hug their buddy. Wha da fuq?

This shit has to end NOW.

The Mayor has decided to take the lead on this. From this point forward, any attempted Man Hug on The Mayor’s person will result in a swift punch to said huggers chest. The Mayor doesn’t intend to leave his knuckle prints on said huggers chest cavity, but the punch will be hard enough to make said huggers eyes water.

That’s what The Mayor’s talking about.

Said hugger will also hear the words “no hug” after the punch has been delivered.

The Mayor understands that the pussification of the western male is nearly complete, but The Mayor will not go down gently. He will go down swinging. Man huggers beware. There will be no more warnings.

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The Accelerationist Candidate

The Toronto Sun has a poll out showing that Olivia Chow, the vanguard candidate of the South Of Bloor (SOB’s) hyphenated-Canadians out in the lead. Great. John Tory, the Conservative in name only, is bleeding votes from crack Mayor Ford. So, take your pick: which gravy train candidate do you want? Olivia, or John.

Do you think the system can be ‘reformed’? Do you believe that the only way the system can be reformed is to collapse? The collapse is called The Great Unburdening. The unburdening of the state is the only solution then one should accelerate this collapse. So, vote for Chow to bring it on.

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Down and out with the Deep State

Do I have to define everything before I start talking about it? I have no intention or desire or hope to convince statists that statism exists, statism is bad, or statism is inefficient in the long run. Why bother? I am an Army of One, my struggle is personal, with weapons economic, psychological, and hypnotic. I admit to myself that those beyond my touch are Untouchable. I study them, yes, but I horde my resources for those I can see in my sights. I am more a sniper than an artillery brigade.

I can strangle the Hollywood bolsheviks when I download a movie rather than rent it. I act outside of a command structure, and no group renders me material assistance. My actions are doable and gettable. You too do things, but do not share them verbally. Action speaks louder than words. Action under the radar is invisible; and, being invisible, you can make it daily.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this. I care.

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Face it, political correctness is a religion, not a science. As an adventure in magical thinking, Global Warming made a lot of money for a small number of people. Now that the climate has done the weather thing, the faithful forker overs of money are expected to lisp concern over ‘greenhouse gases’ even as they shiver in the snow. Sorry, the transition from Global Warming to Climate Change was like slipping on a fresh cow turd. Political correctness is a religion, one that benefits few and taxes many. Are you one of the few, or one of the many? How much money, power, and sex has political correctness given you? Instead of getting your invisible strap on of white privilege in a knot, accept reality. Embrace reality. You cannot choose you parents, but you can shop around for your religion. And what better religion than one that reflects your values, returns financial benefits, and caters to your lusts? That religion is the cult of Set, the Snake God.

Does political correctness give you an invitation to orgies, illicit drugs, liquor, revenge, and wealth? When was the last time the dried up husks of Climate Justice give you a blow job? How about a fistful of dollars handed to you from a fracking activist? Can the queers fix a speeding ticket for you? No way. These privileges are restricted to the high ranking activists. You are not one of them. You will never become one of them. So, time for you to consider the benefits, features, and advantages of membership in the cult of Set, the Snake God.

All members of the cult of Set, the Snake God can participate in orgies. There are other benefits which every cultist can enjoy. Let us just say that if you like guns, you will like belt fed, hydraulic boost, multi-barrel firepower better. What about atomic weapons? With Set. the Snake God, you can spend your quality basement time polishing a multi-kiloton device, rather than a wet vac. And your enemies, have them fed to an alligator.

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