Thursday, July 24, 2008

Alexander the Great
A thieving, fanatical Albanian dwarf. Wait. That’s what I said about Mother Theresa. My usually encyclopedic memory has perhaps been muddied a bit by that third bottle of Black Label. A buggering, megalomaniacal Macedonian midget. There, that’s much better. Though one must concede that Alexander could famously imbibe gallons of the wine-skinned swill of his age and still remain standing—nay, defiant—a trait I wholeheartedly admire and endorse.

Raping and pillaging ones way across half the globe hardly qualifies one for greatness per se, though one could say that at least Alexander did something proactive, unlike the cringing, odious cowards of the Left. They seem content to acquiesce and appease, like fucking Chamberlain kowtowing to das Fuhrer, while real men of courage like George W. Bush and Dick Cheney stand and fight—nay, volunteer—for service in … er … well, regardless, I’m still right about Iraq. Fuck off.

* * *

The Great Wall of China
This supposedly impenetrable structure hardly kept those fucking unwashed Mongols from invading and subjugating their supposedly “divine” middle kingdom. Speaking of divinity, the Chinese insistence that their emperor was the “son of heaven” smacks of that most corrupt and pernicious of all evils, religion.

One could say the Chinese almost deserved to have the Mongols overwhelm them. But saying so would infer the existence of the aforementioned divinity, in its infamous guise of “retribution.” This quaint notion is of course paradoxically disproved by the success of immoral abominations as Henry Kissinger, Jerry Falwell, and that true pillar of fraud and malfeasance, Mother Theresa.

Alas, the impractical battlement is utterly porous when compared to the stalwart adamantine barriers against Islamofascism erected by the intrepid and prescient Mr. Bush, much to the chagrin of my spineless antagonists on the Left, especially the intellectually stunted sycophants at The Nation.

They’d like nothing more than to verily throw open the gates of western civilization to terrorists and jihadists—nay, invite—them in for fucking lemonade. Virgin of course, lest they offend their guests fragile religious sensibilities. As the great W.C. Fields once remarked, “Never trust a man who doesn’t drink”; the obvious corollary to this is always trust one who does, especially one who can drink enough for three stout men, yet still remain lucid—nay, triumphant—scattering his bleating rivals before him.

* * *

Wayne Gretsky
A simpering Bambi narcissist. Wait. Damn, that’s what I called Princess Diana. Seriously, can one be considered “great” based on one’s excellence in a gross physical activity? Or in anything regarded by the unwashed masses as “sport”? True fucking sport involves the verbal evisceration and humiliation of one’s sputtering and overmatched foes, preferably in a charged public forum, before a gasping throng of cowed but fawning spectators.

Also he never had to contend with the vicious cross-checking and man-marking that Mario Lemieaux suffered through on a nightly basis. One is reminded of the constant barrage from the caterwauling liberal press on the indefatigable Mr. Bush.

Alas, the peace-mongering Canadians’ insistence on deifying “the Great One” is simply replacing one false god with another, though at least Gretsky has video evidence of his “greatness”, unlike Jesus or Mohammed, or that thieving bitch Mother Theresa.

* * *

Frosted Flakes
The rabid frothing of their pathetic anthropomorphic tiger mascot notwithstanding, these “flakes” decompose in seconds into an insipid, over-sweet slurry, not unlike the sugarcoated pap generated by the insipid dolts infesting the cubicles at The Nation.

Now if you’ll excuse me I have to get something solid to eat to help forestall an imminent buggering hangover. Sod off.

Daniel McArdle is a freelance graphic designer/trailing spouse/kept man living in Hong Kong with his wife and two daughters. He presently finds solace in short story rejections, and on soccer pitches, exhibiting a surprising knack for goal. He also amuses himself by correcting those who believe him to be Canadian (he is not, but he generally takes it as a compliment). His latest work can be found in print and online at sites like Pindeldyboz, Hobart, and Monkeybicycle. His expat ramblings can be found at

Bush Feet Under The Final Moments of the George W. Bush Administration
Full Disclosure I'm sitting down with New York Times reporter Adam Nagourney. (Disclosure: my communication with Mr. Nagourney consists of comments I've posted to his blog.)

Find recent content on the main index or look in the archives to find all content.


RSD | RSS I | RSS II | Atøm | Spanish

Support Submit
From the Y.P.aRchives
Fun, Fickle Fiction (for Free!)
Fact, Opinion, Essay, & Review
Spectacular Features, Calendrical Happenings, Media Gadflies
Poetry & Lyric
Advice, How To, & Self-Help
Semi-Frequent Columns
Letter from the Editors
Disquieting Modern Trends
Interviews with Interviewers
One-Question Interviews
The Book Club
Media Gadflies
Calendrical Happenings
Correspondence (Letters To and Letters From) Letters from Y.P.R. Letters to Y.P.R. Birthday Cards to Celebrities Pop Stars in Hotel Rooms Shreek of the Week of the Day Polish Facts: An Antidote to the Polish Joke The Y.P.aRt Gallery Illustrious Illustration Photography Photomontage Graphic Design Logo Gallery What's Up with That? Fuit Salad Nick's Guff Vermont Girl The M_methicist Daily Garfield Digest New & Noteworthy Contributors' Notes Et Cetera, Et Cetera, Et Cetera The Y.P.aRchives

This journal is powered by Movable Typo 4.01.

Y.P.R. & Co.