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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Those of us involved in the Research Justice Movement are celebrating a new way to expose primate test subjects to stem cell therapy. Under the hate culture of dead white males, the idea of getting food from the garbage was considered ‘bad’. Now NOW magazine (a Toronto dead tree publication) is in the vanguard of the dumpster enabler movement, squeezing out a positive image of what was once considered a stupid thing to do. Instead of getting the straps of your invisible knapsack of white privilege into a knot, ask yourself, How can I take advantage of this newthink? Lucky for you, the activists at the Mitchieville Public Library celebrate diversity. The Supreme Central Library has devoted laboratory facilities to furthering Global Warming Science. And not one penny of your money is paying for this. The lab was paid for with a grant from an American state (to promote literacy amongst the illiterate). Har har har.

You, like me
, are interested in the therapeutic recovery of pre-frontal lobe function with emphasis on recolonization of defective or damaged brain structure. Everyone knows the value of lobotomy. This has been well documented in peer reviewed literature cherry picked from the internet. Second phase post lobotomy therapy has, up until now, been limited to repurposing freed cranial spaces with hardware: a cell phone, an I tunes player, a camera, or a remote destruction device. Our own research librarian, Doctor No, has discovered that introduction of stem cells will lead to the regrowth of previously damaged brain structures. This is a fantastic development in Global Warming Science. And, none of it is supervised or overseen by any sort of evil Harper scientists.

Now people who get lobotomized are sick. Lobotomy cures aberrant social behavior. Here in Mitchieville we are proud of the steep decline in ‘youth crime’ wrought by Doctor No and his work with the Special Reading Program. Thank you Doctor No. But this is not a final solution. There have been complaints. Social stigma. Our Special Readers, in their distinctive electric lime green vests, have been called drooling zombies, brain gimps, and Turnip-Canadians. I burst into tears when I read the reports. Children throw stones at them on the street, and at last months Celebrate Reading Festival, three Special Readers were set on fire by drunken hooligans. Boys will be boys.

Reptilian stem cells work best, says Doctor No. And now we want to experiment on Vegans. The problem was how do we get to them? Experiment protocols require that the subject be tested without their knowledge (this eliminates the need for a control group). What better way than to dose garbage foodstuffs with Reptilian stem cell vectors? This is the keystone of our Involuntary Test Subject Initiative (funded by a grant to build wind generating capacity in the swamps of South Garafraxa).

Encourage other people to eat food they find in the garbage. Watch those people who eat food from the garbage. If they develop patches of green, scaly skin, develop a heightened sense of smell, or start to eat bugs, these are all signs of healthy recolonization of the brain (and body) with Mother Nature’s own renewable, zero carbon footprint, primate-reptilian hybrid form. Just whisper your information in any of the book stacks of the Mitchieville Public Library. We will be listening.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this. I care.

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Smoking is fun

My world view was reinforced with the news that several of the passports used to board the doomed flight that the dead tree media is yapping about were stolen. Nicked, as my dear old dad would say. Scarfed, purloined, taken. Not only stolen, but stolen some many months ago. My world view celebrates the incompetence of the vast state apparatus that squanders our confiscated income. Such breathtaking stupidity. It made me laugh. I laughed like an alligator watching an unattended baby in a canoe float towards my location.

You can share in my joy. You, like me, seek your proper slice of pie in the pie that is the pie of life. Your neighbors are gobbling down pie. You should too. So, instead of feeling prison raped when you get butt probed and pervert prodded when you pass through airport ’security’, why not join in the fun? Any twisted, drooling degenerate can get hired for ’security’. Why not adopt a false identity and have a moonlight job fondling breasts … and get paid to fondle breasts! Now my perversion of choice is not groping women under fluorescent light in a crowded room. Me, I like to smoke cigarettes.

For my personal jihad of financial aggrandizement
I targeted the local school board. If you are mentally capable of out thinking Curly, Larry and Moe, you can get a consultant position with the local Stupid-Canadian run school board. If you think airport ’security’ morons are moronic for waving through people with years old stolen passports, you will find equivalent morons in your school board. I started as a math tutor (check it out: high school math teachers are hired based on deviant gender preferences, tribal ancestry, and diploma mill credentials … so the school board needs tutors to fill the competence gap) and took advantage of my inside position to clone my paying positions. My syphilis brain ravaged supervisor (a vice principal who oscillates between genders) is unaware that three consultants on his/her/its payroll are really the same person, Fenris Badwulf. Maybe it is the names I chose: Dick Gherkin, math tutor; Justin Twot, life coach; and Nick DuMaurier, smoking awareness coordinator.

Teaching professionals in this age of political correctness celebrate a diversity of financially exploitable desires which I, caring person, have sought to satisfy. It started with cosmetics. I have a buddy who does flea markets … he sells this stuff, I said, opening my trunk to reveal a display case of sparkly nail polish, amethyst pendants, and silver nose ornaments. Soon they were hitting me up for notions and sundries. Aspirin lead to Haldol. Bumming a free cigarette lead to buying a kilo of weed. And all I did as a sales gimmick was offer a bong borrowing service, using the school library software to track who had the ‘resource’. I facilitated liaisons with prostitutes for ‘life coaching’, and made double profit by both pimping the whore to the teacher, as well as selling the video of the carnal acts on the pay site. A sociologist would be fascinated by the magnetic attraction of science teachers for latex clad t-girls, except that our modern sociologists are too interested in monkey fellatio fantasies to work at work.

So, I say, why become cynical and fume and plot the violent overthrow of the state? These incompetents exist as parasites upon your confiscated income, sure. Why not turn the negative into a positive? Exploit the diversity of stupid to advance your financial agenda, I say. Infiltrate the bloated bureaucracy of the statists, if only to scarf their good coffee?

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this. I care.

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Pier’s Morgan – seen here making a funny face after drinking two quarts of his own semen – has been canned by CNN because he’s a fucking idiot:

CNN’s president, Jeffrey Zucker, has other problems, but none bigger than Mr. Morgan and his plum 9 p.m. time slot. Mr. Morgan said last week that he and Mr. Zucker had been talking about the show’s failure to connect and had decided to pull the plug, probably in March.

The biggest similarity between CNN and Pier’s Morgan, is that both Pier’s Morgan and CNN are parasites who will now start looking for a new host. Thank you, The Mayor will be here all week. Tip your waitress.

Of the 17,859 reasons why American’s, and the world, hate this pizza-faced lunatic so much, the number 1 reason is that he reminds us of that guy who decides to tell you what he thinks of your ex-girlfriend a few hours after you broke up with the biznitch. Yes, The Mayor knows she was fat and ugly, had hangnails, and made slug trails when she walked, but The Mayor doesn’t need some outsider pointing that out to him. Just as America knows it has its share of problems, they don’t need some pompous, hateful foreigner coming to their shore to tell them what their problems are and how to behave. After all, America already has the UN and 9/10 of the world doing that to them already.

The Mayor can hardly fathom what it must be like to be fired from CNN. CNN’s ratings are so poor across the board, and the lack of talent is completely shocking, that being shit-canned by that horse and pony show would be like getting fired as a Wal-Mart greeter because they were looking for someone a little smarter. Hot damn, rumour has it that CNN is going to fill Morgan’s spot with that herpe infested mongrel Kathy Griffin. That would be awesome. Imagine “Piers” getting fired from a 7th rate *news* organization and being replaced by someone who looks like Ronald McDonald five days into a heroin bender.

Then again, Griffin and Morgan are about as hard left as they come, and really the only thing that separates the two is that Griffin has balls and a penis, where as Morgan drinks his own semen. At least that’s what The Mayor read in Time magazine a few years back.

What a great day.

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Too Soon?

If you live in England and find the above joke funny, The Mayor suggests you keep your giggles to yourself, or face prosecution (or is it persecution?):

A sandwich shop owner endured eight hours of questioning by police and had his computer seized for three weeks – after making tasteless Nelson Mandela jokes on the internet.

Neil Phillips, who runs Crumbs in Rugeley, Staffordshire, says he was also finger-printed and DNA-swabbed after officers received complaints about what he insists were harmless gags.

Phillips wasn’t charged with any crime, but yet the police were good enough to DNA swab him, fingerprint him, take his computer away for three week’s, and hold him for eight hours. Because he made a joke. On Facebook. Lucky the poor bastard didn’t Tweet it.

After posting this hate crime on Zuckerberg’s website, lefties all around England became *outraged*, because nothing outrages a lefty more than, ah, well, anything really. Cue Liberal Democrat Councillor Tim Jones:

Liberal Democrat Councillor Tim Jones was so incensed by the one-liners, aired at a time when Mandela was critically ill, that he made an official complaint.

INCENSED!! How dare you make a joke about a dying man? How dare you make a joke about a dying commie? How dare you make a joke about a dying black commie?

The Mayor is sure Councillor Tim Jones felt the same outrage after Margaret Thatcher died and the left in England lit up the internet with dead Maggie jokes. The Mayor is also sure the police will round up the Maggie joke-tellers, fingerprint every last one of them, DNA swab them, take away their computers, and hold them in jail for eight hours. The Mayor is also sure that later on this morning as he has his late morning constitutional, solid gold coins will fall out of his ass.

Neil Phillips, joke teller. Worse than Hitler.

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Dwayne Feguson, arrested for bringing a gun to Harvey Austin School, is a well-known community activist.

As coincidence would have it, just last night little Clare asked Daddy Mayor what the definition of *hypocrite* is. Daddy Mayor handed her this article and told her to get readin’:

Dwayne Ferguson spent more than a decade advocating for nonviolence and peace in the streets of Buffalo.

He was a well-known face in the movement for the SAFE Act, the state law that made carrying a gun on school property a felony. He was also a familiar presence in the hallways of the city’s Harvey Austin Elementary School, where he worked in the after-school program and mentored students.

No one imagined that on Thursday he would show up at the school in possession of a gun, touching off an hours-long lockdown, search and ultimately his arrest on two felony charges.

Ferguson, 52, told WGRZ-TV that he frequently carries the gun, for which he has a permit, and did not realize he had it on him when he went to the school as part of the mentoring program.

He was among local activists who stood with Assemblywoman Crystal Peoples-Stokes last year lobbying for a law that would make possessing a gun on school property a felony.

When The Mayor heads out to City Hall in the morning, it’s not uncommon for him to forget, or even to bring things with him he didn’t mean to. Just the other day, The Mayor left The Manor and had TLDG’s car keys in his pocket. One time The Mayor mistakenly brought along little Clare’s knapsack on his journey. Sometime’s The Mayor forgets his lunch, or takes TLDG’s lunch. However, there are some things The Mayor has never forgotten he has on his person. His pants, for instance. The Mayor never forgets to put on his pants. Socks and shoes. The Mayor always wears socks and shoes to work. Automatic weapons. That’s another thing The Mayor is aware of as he travels down the road. You see, automatic weapons are heavy and bulky, and take up quite a bit of room in The Mayor’s pocket, unlike, say, a pack of gum, or a gift card to Bed Bath and Beyond.

The Mayor is sure that this fine, upstanding pillar of the community, who fights on a daily basis for gun control, who tirelessly works to have guns stripped from law-abiding citizens like you and I (but not him), will be treated as honestly as fairly as any member of the NRA, or the Tea Party would be had they been caught in the same situation with a loaded handgun at a gun-free school.

After little Clare read the article, The Mayor asked her if she now knows the meaning of *hypocrisy*, to which she replied, “No daddy, I don’t. After all, I’m only five years old and can’t really read. However, from what I could understand, liberals sure are stupid assholes.”

That little Clare, she’s going to make a great Prime Minister one day.

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