Author Archive | Mark A. Rayner

Paint drying and other televisual treats

TV wasteland: last night we were reduced to deciding between The Worst Jobs in History and the Miss Universe Pageant.

I enjoy looking at gorgeous women as much as the next guy, but I discovered last night that these pageants are designed for women not men, when I found myself wanting to watch something else, while my partner was clearly enjoying the cheese-ridden contest.

You would think that watching perfect-looking babes parade around in skimpy evening gowns and tight bikinis on high heels would be anything but boring, wouldn’t you? But there it was. I was bored out of my mind.

I was much more interested in watching Tony Robinson get covered in leeches.

Canadian wins | Leech collecting and other rotten jobs

I’m back!

Okay, some new content soon, I promise. I can’t believe it took almost two weeks to get my dns switched and this site restarted. I’m sure you can’t either.

New content on Tuesday. For now I’ve resurrected a couple of old posts. The rest are listed under Old Skwib Files. Someday soon I must also figure out how to change the word “Pages” to something meaningful. I mean, it might as well say, “blork” for all it tells you.


Oh Canada: the pine-cone republic, in three limericks

Yep, it’s true. If it was warm enough to grow the tasty tube fruit, we’d be in danger of becoming a banana republic. (Monarchy notwithstanding.)

As a proud Canadian, I find the debacle we call parliament is embarrassing. The corruption of the Liberals is disgusting, and I don’t trust any of the other parties in the house much more. (The Conservatives less, if truth be told.)

Rather than rant incoherently, I thought I’d express myself in limerick form:

There once was a PM named “Dithers”
who tended to bluster and blither,
when his Liberals were found out,
to Canada he’d just tout,
“we’re slimy but the Tories they slither.”

The Liberals they followed Paul Martin,
and their numbers were droppin’ and smartin’
when asked if they’d step down,
old Dithers he just frowned,
and said its procedural fartin’.

The source of this malady’s Jean.
Too long the Grits have hanged on.

We’re faced with a Harpur,
A Leighton, a carper …
Give our Greenies the baton!