Malpecque Bay, PEI – Climate Change is the suspect in a recent food warning associated with eating raw seafood, especially oysters. Warmer oceans have resulted in a greater amount of a particular bacterium, vibrio parahaemolyticus, which can cause a gastrointestinal infection called vibriosis. Vibriosis symptoms include all the usual suspects associated with food poisoning. While some fanatics have suggested death is one of those symptoms, doctors suggest otherwise, and add, “At its riskiest in the summer, vibrio illness rates are one in 10,000 raw oysters eaten.”
The solution seems simple enough… Don’t eat 10, 000 oysters!
Oysters just waiting to be delicious
A visit to the seafood section of a local grocery store revealed most oysters would prefer not to discuss this health concern; they are clamming up!
One fine looking bivalve, who wished to remain anonymous although we named it Slurpy, hinted it and its bedmates were working to secrete extra aragonite and conchiolin (substance that also produces their shell) in hopes of producing pearls out of this natural irritant.
Our reluctant spokes-oyster did suggest, “Vibrio probably isn’t any worse for a human than any of those damn hot sauces they douse us in!”
Deliciousness on the half-shell
Cooking oysters is one sure way to kill off vibrio, and piss off an oyster.
“Oh, I would love to get my mantle on the arsehole that decided to cook my ancestors, “Slurpy snapped. “We much prefer slithering into a human as opposed to being steamed, grilled, gumboed, souped, buttered, cheese, or chewed upon.”
Rockefeller-ed, and pissed right off!
As we left Slurpy’s side, a distinct aroma of an aragonite/ conchiolin secretion was palpable in the seafood section.
Essex, ON – A recent advertising campaign, paid for by the government of Ontario, promoted the province as a world leader in the production of electric vehicles, and batteries. While the ad mistakenly featured your average citizen with a hairdo created by a Van der Graaff generator, it obviously cost a lot of money to produce.
Static electricity mistaken for the current variety
During a sojourn to this southwestern Ontario town, Premier Doug Ford was re-introduced to the windmills he had sworn to eliminate when he took office in 2018; however, this time he saw dollar signs!
“Folks,” he began overestimating the size of his audience, “As I was driven down here on the 401, I couldn’t help but notice all the windmills built by the previous government.”
Given there are 294 wind turbines in Essex, and the adjoining Chatham-Kent, Ford was not exaggerating yet. Nor was he finished with the revelation of his scheme.
“Folks,” as he continued to use his familiar refrain, “As them turbans turned, I was reminded of German-built cars every once in a while.”
You will think of Mercedes Benz 3 times per rotation
It seemed the Premier was about to make his pitch.
“Folks, I asked my people why I was thinking of Mercedes cars so much, and I got to tell you, I have the best people! They work their backs(ides) off for me. I couldn’t do it.”
Okay, our mistake in expecting him to wind this down just then.
“Folks,” he rejoined his meandering pronouncement, “My people told me that every 120 degrees, I mean wow that is HOT, the turbans resemble the logo for the Mercedes. They tell me it is submarine, no! Sublime, no! Sublimational, no! Subliminal messaging! Yeah, that’s it! My friends, some words are so hard to say.”
At this point, it seems really safe to say, his proclamation was nearing its culmination.
“So folks, I am going to charge the Mercedes Benz Company for the free advertising they’ve enjoyed since the former government had these giant pinwheels built.”
Smith and Ford: governmental bookends
That was, in fact, the penultimate announcement.
“Folks, I am calling on Graydon Smith, my Minister of Natural Resources, to investigate leaving the sun turned on at night, so we can make more hydro on those gosh-darn solar panels you see everywhere too.”
Sydney, Australia – After raw-dogging it for their entire existence, biologists have ascertained the cute and cuddly Koala is on the verge of extinction due to 80% of the population have Chlamydia.
Mischievous but infected little buck
In a land known for The Outback, Rodney Rude, kangaroos, emus (with/without Rolf Harris), Bruces, Troy Kinne, Olivia Newton-John, Uluru, prawns on the barbie, Crocodile Dundee’s knife, Sydney Bridge, Sydney Opera House, Doug Mulray, Wentworth, Tasmanian Devils, Kitty Flanagan, The Great Barrier Reef, Mark Titheradge, the didgeridoo, boomerangs, Russell Coight, Ugg boots, Gum trees, billabongs, cork hats, Jane Turner, swagmen, Steve Irwin, wine, Rod Laver, and Yvonne Goolagong Cawley, Koalas are too.
Flaming galah in a cork hat
The infected marsupials have become the objective of a trap-and-vaccinate project in their east-coast habitat. This is quite popular with Australians, but not so keen about it are the Koalas themselves.
More than willing to speak his mind between lengthy naps, Blinky Koala said, “Hello, mate! I heard Chlamydia causes blindness, infertility, and inevitable death, but that vaccination is something created in a lab, mate. Struth!”
Obviously informed but also caught up in misinformation hysteria, Blinky emerged from another nap in time to add, “Mate, my kind do 3 things really well. We eat eucalyptus leaves, we root, and we sleep for about 20-hours a day. When I am supposed to have the time to slip a dinger on my literal button-on-a-fur-coat?”
This wee one has taken the cure
Animals that have been vaccinated have been tagged with a pink dye, so the scientists can avoid catching them twice.
Reeking of eucalyptus and about to nod off again, Blinky added, “Those females with the pink arses are right stunners, and worthy of a damn good smashing though!”
After promising an alpha list, it seemed obvious a follow-up submission was in order.
For T, although his full name it Tee, here are the missing entries allegedly found in Canada’s Diplomatic Expulsion file.
Belgian waffle: The dishonourable envoy from Belgium will be making her way back to Brussels slathered in the finest Canadian dairy whipped cream, and covered in sweet Ontario blueberries.
Just slip the boarding pass under her plate
Welsh rarebit: Lightly toasted in the most comfortable of tanning beds Ottawa has to provide at Ottawa International Airport then smeared with the finest Quebec cheese curds, the disgraced emissary of Wales will receive undoubtedly a warm welcome at Cardiff Airport.
Boston, MA – According to Boston.com’s Wickedpedia, a hot-button topic for Bostonians right now is the number of wild turkeys (a.k.a.Meleagris gallopavo) within the city limits. Flocks of the large, noisy birds can be seen walking the streets, and even tying up traffic.
“It’s damn inconvenient,” Barney Beaner exclaimed. “I can’t tell you how many times I have slipped on some, or all of their guano. Those birds have to go!”
Which came first? The egg-layer or the road?
When Europeans first invaded North America, wild turkeys were it great abundance. Indigenous people hunted them for food, but colonists took hunting to a whole new level. The result was the near extinction of the birds until naturalists interceded.
“Hell, yeah,” gobbled Tom Gobbler through the dougzone22 ”Turkish” interpreter. “My species was here first!”
The species was re-introduced through repatriation from upstate New York’s Allegany State Park where the gaggles abounded. National Wild Turkey Federation’s New England district was the agent for the bids.
“My kind got the hell out of Boston, Brookline, and Massachusetts in general, “Gobbler chirped. “Humans helped us reclaim our territory, and now they complain.”
Gobbler seen strutting his stuff in front of a tax-paying whiner
When asked how his kind passes the time in town, Gobbler had many suggestions.
“Some of us enjoy the parks, browsing the shops, and I know a select few who attend at M.I.T., and I got into Harvard!”
No MBTA Pass required; Gobbler flies to school!
When asked which department he studied at, Gobbler got quite indignant.
“We who attend Harvard never end a sentence with a preposition!” then took flight so as to shit on Barney Beaner’s Tesla.
Ottawa, Canada – Recent events in this, and other countries, has brought the concept of the expulsion of diplomats into the world theatre.
For years, television and movie procedurals have dealt foreign representatives in multiple countries claiming diplomatic immunity in the event of a wrongdoing by said diplomat.
In fact, Article 9 of the Vienna Convention of 1961 grants diplomats immunity from criminal, and most civil prosecutions while posted abroad; however, Article 31 permits a host country the privilege of declaring another countries representative as persona non grata without having to explain its decision.
With a little espionage of its own, dougzone22 has uncovered a list of code names for diplomatic expulsions at Canada’s disposal. They are arranged alphabetically, since a numerical listing seemed pointless.
Vienna Convention: small book big on ramifications
Australian Outback: this method involves escorting the offending envoy to an unlit, discreet corner of a dark alley where marching orders are delivered in no uncertain terms.
Chinese Checker: the unwelcome agent is invited to “lace them up” with Canadian hockey hooligans, and sent a message loudly, and clearly.
Danish Mermaid: stripped naked, the departing representative is sat upon a rock in Quttinirpaaq National Park on Ellesmere Island, and boarded onto a short flight home to Copenhagen the next day.
Magnus, you can tell Santa you were a naughty boy up here!
Eritrean Easy-out: the soon-to-be-former envoy is offered an excursion to the top of the Horseshoe Falls, and placed in a canoe sans paddle. Talk about being up schitz creek!
Finnish Finish: shellacked, and left to be blown dry by a Chinook wind in Lethbridge, Alberta, this ambassador will choose to head for Helsinki nopeasti.
German Goosestep: stood with back to beginner’s class of Learn to Goosestep course at the Karen Kain School of Dance in Ottawa; this emissary is literally kicked out!
Hungarian “Goo-lash”: the finest Canadian rawhide is soaked in the finest maple syrup available at any tourist trap until very supple, then applied liberally to the torso of the tainted conciliator.
Indonesian Indignity: wearing nothing but her diplomatic papers, this attaché is to be stood in the passing lane of the 401 highway in Toronto during rush hour. This plenipotentiary will happily depart for Jakarta post haste.
Oh, the horn honking!
Jamaican Jerk: (not what you are anticipating) once belted into at Toronto Transit Authority train car, the dishonourable emissary will have to endure a shunting session at the Davisville Yard.
Kuwaiti Wait: while holding her luggage aloft, this particular Chargéd’affaires will be asked to await a ride-share vehicle operated by a driver with no sense of direction in Vancouver, BC.
Lithuanian Lift: Hoisted up the CN Tower by the flimsiest of rope, we know one ambassador who will welcome extradition to his homeland.
Malaysian Air: taken for a literal breath-taking ride strapped to the exterior of a CF-18, Malaysia’s go-between will beg for her marching papers.
Nigerian Nightcrawler: summoned to the Governor General’s estate in Ottawa, the disgraced emissary will be laid in a coffin-like structure lined with Canada’s finest earthworms.
Lumbricus terrestris doesn’t sound near is icky
Oman Oh-man: the discredited attachés from Oman will be prodded to climb the 1760 stairs of the CN Tower continuous on the day of his hasty departure.
Pakistani Phone-call: the unwanted legate from this country will have her phone number published at every call centre in the Middle East. Sure hope she has time to call for a ride to the airport.
Qatar Queue: sullied in the eyes of Canadians, the envoy is asked to line up for a double-double at Canada’s busiest Tim Horton’s only to be asked to return to the end of the line once the penultimate position is achieved.
Russian Replay: Moscow’s representative will be placed on a wooden stool, and forced to watch Paul Henderson’s Summit-Series-winning goal on a loop for her final 24 hours in Canada.
Canada wins! Canada wins! Canada wins! …
Singapore Slingshot: a dishonourable agent of this country would be required to ride the Slingshot at Canada’s Wonderland until deported.
Turkey Stuffing: a degraded intermediary from Turkey would be loaded into a crate formerly occupied by skunks, then mailed, postage due, back to Istanbul.
USA, Surfing: strapped into a wakeboard, this besmirched representative would be dragged the entire length of the Atlantic watershed before being unceremoniously beached at Lubec, Maine.
Vatican Goalie Host: This obviously tarnishedNuncio, armed only with his robe of office and the potential of divine intervention, would play net for one of Canada’s lacrosse teams before being shipped home.
Zimbabwean Zoolander: upon indication of his wrongdoing, the emissary from Zimbabwe would have to perform a fashion show for drunken red necks in northern Alberta.
While not a complete list of countries, it should serve to encourage better behaviour of all foreign dignitaries in Canada.
Bedford, UK – In 1966, it was Star Trek that first offered the proposition of co-ed space flight. Two years later Barbarella exposed us to interstellar sex, and subsequently Flesh Gordon (1974, ‘90, and ‘91) introduced faux-pornography in worlds as yet unimagined.
Oh, a ticket to ride indeed!
Warp speed forward to the year 2000 during which French Sci-Fi writer Pierre Kohler claimed he had evidence of zero-gravity encounters of the sexual kind. Almost immediately, Kohler’s claims were denied resoundingly by NASA, Roscosmos, and the European Space Agency.
If ISS were rocking, one dare not come knocking
Now, with the advent of commercial space flight via SpaceX, Virgin Galactic, or Blue Origin, Prof. David Cullen, professor of astrobiology and space biotechnology at Cranfield University, is warning potential vacationers to be wary of coupling whilst away from the surly bonds of gravity.
Blue Origin: already known for its penile appearance
Cullen references numerous experiments involving mammals aboard the International Space Station. Some were capable of conception while others weren’t. Gestating in microgravity, and exposure to radiation not experienced on Earth add concern for healthy offspring. As a result, legal complications for the space tourism companies could arise.
In space, no one can hear you orgasm!
Perhaps it is time to re-imaginer those infamous words of Capt. Kirk from 1966:
Space, the final sex frontier These are the voyages of the (insert favourite space-tourism provider) Its 5 to15-minute mission: To explore strange new positions To seek out new micro-gravitational life And new civil litigations To boldly go where no human has gone before: inside a fellow passenger!
Vatican City – In a groundbreaking edict, Pope Francis, the guy who heads the city-state of Vatican City, has granted women the right to vote. Not all the women, but it is expected forty-five females will be allowed to vote in October’s Synod of Bishops.
Vatican City becomes the last place on Earth to offer suffrage to women. The penultimate territory was the Swiss canton, Appenzell Innerhoden, in 1991.
He’s having some of the girls over to his place
This move by the Pope has been heralded by Catholic Women’s groups as ‘a significant crack in the stained glass ceiling’.
(Ed. On this auspicious occasion, the women’s group may have wanted to employ a thesaurus while composing its statement.)
Do these lasses know what awaits them?
With only six months to prepare, the news has raised the anticipation level to critical.
“Some of the lads haven’t seen a woman since before their mothers died,” one Synod planner exclaimed. “We have some significant investigating to do!”
Typical seating arrangement for a typical Synod
“Here is an initial list we have brainstormed,” the spokesplanner ejaculated.
The lads have been deep in thought, although not finished
Not all the planning has gone into contemplating the presence of women at the Synod.
“We anticipate a more spirited collection of Bishops for this Synod,” our spokesplanner interjected. “I know a massive order for Creed Santal Imperial cologne (circa 1850) has been placed, while a few of the younger prelates are set to douse themselves with Old Spice.”
Minorca, Spain – From evidence found on a 3000-year-old burial site on this island off the coast of Spain, archaeologists, who always have had their way with such findings, are weaving a fantastic tale of psychedelic-drug use all that time ago.
Earlier members of this allegedly educated sect, who call themselves scientists, have openly suspected our predecessors of all sorts of misbehaviour, but today’s gang of storytellers believe they have proof.
Analysis reveals this was hair of an early Cheech or Chong
A tuft of hair stored in a container has been analyzed, and lo and behold the hallucinogens atropine and scopolamine, and the stimulant ephedrine were unveiled! The source of this booty is unknown, as the archaeologists have not found evidence of a drug store, nor an unscrupulous dealer.
Looking to debunk the archaeological bunk humankind has endured for centuries, we took a sample of the hair, had it cloned, and interviewed Beulah our spokes-clone.
Quite the looker in her day, Beulah definitely has seen better ones
dougzone:Good afternoon, Beulah! How are you?
Beulah: How the hell do you think I am? Where am I, and what have you done with my clothes?
dougzone: It is 2023, and you have new clothes. We’d like to know about your lifestyle. We are being told, you took a lot of drugs.
Beulah: Drugs? We called them food. There wasn’t much going on back then! My mate, Greco, spent his time perfecting his mating prowess, and I spent most of my time warning my girlfriends. Greco could have used a stiffener, if you know what I mean, man!
dougzone: Had partying been invented?
Beulah: Other than our food, we had fantastic liquids which paired nicely with the food.
dougzone: Our scientists believe you must have been a shaman.
Beulah: No, Shaman was the guy who lived in the grotto across the field. He was hilarious!
dougzone: Do you have an example for us?
Beulah: Yeah, man. One day he knocked on Greco’s door, and said, “Hey, man; it’s me, Dave.”
Then Shaman, stoned out of his gourde, says, “There’s no Dave here!”
Then Greco said, “Okay dude,” and walked away to play with his wheel, and stare at the sun.
Chaffinch: beautiful plumage, even prettier deep fried
dougzone: Thanks for this, Beulah. Do you need anything?
Beulah: On my way here from the lab, one of your people mentioned lunch. Do they have Pizza Grotto, Burger High Priestess, or Kintoa Fried Chaffinch anymore? I have some kind of munchies, man!”
Granada, Spain – A 50-year-old sportswoman/mountaineer, Beatriz Flamini, has recently emerged from a 500-day stay in a cave. Her subterranean respite was done deliberately as part of a psychological study. Supporters believe she has set a record that should be acknowledged by the fine people at the Guinness Book of Records. Flamini was quoted as saying she was quite happy with reading books, knitting, and didn’t want to leave.
Flamini seen emerging; failed to report on whether she saw her shadow
Of all the known troglodytes including bears, Barney Rubble, and Osama bin Laden, only one former cave-dweller was willing to remark on Flamini’s escapade.
“I had had enough after my 48 hours,” proclaimed an inflamed bit of shrubbery that claimed to be Jesus S. Christ.
An abrupt response was offered when the burning bush was asked to clarify the middle initial, for the sake of our reporter.
“Yes, it is S for “spelunker”, not H,” He said in a tone of admonition. “For My sake, I wish you people would get it right, once and for all.”
Verily a shroud of evidence in this depiction of S’s weekend accommodation
And the thicket wasn’t quite finished with the assessment of Flamini’s accomplishment.
“Book reading, and knitting, eh? I barely had time to throw on a loin cloth before I was hauled away! Beatriz must have had a better travel agent,” He ranted officiously.
Flamini made videos while residing 70 metres underground
After viewing a video of the latest cave-dwelling record-holder, our cave-dwelling expert began to lose His excrement.
“Dad damn it! Lights, food, and Go-pro too! Sponsorships weren’t really a thing when I was thrust into the field of speleogy. I mean, Me, I was barely alive at the time!”
And in a flash, the local firefighters appeared, the engulfed hedge was doused, and the spokes-topiary was speechless.