Monday, November 30, 2009

THIS IS EGYPT

4000 years ago or something.
Ancient Egypt.
Probably.
The great Pharaoh Menjietis his sitting a top his stone throne.
He is mostly naked because that is the style in ancient Egypt.
Beneath his feet are all the gold and riches of his kingdom.
He is the ruler of the greatest empire in the world through the sheer fear and respect of all the peoples in the land.

4000 years later he is dead.

THIS IS EGYPT.

I was standing in line at the AGO waiting to see the Great Pharaohs Exhibition. I was accompanied by my good buddy Ivan who was telling me how excited he was to see the craftsmanship of the ancient pieces of art within. I told him sharply to "Stuff it with scarabs. This is Egypt son! Not some prissy pants Art N'Show, for homo-menians who get erections from seeing other men's erections!" He understood my position and forgave me for my outburst by ignoring me completely for the next 40 minutes.

The exhibition toted itself as possessing the world's greatest treasures but the true draw of the exhibition came from Dr. Harrison Ford's audio narration of the artifacts. Finally, we get to hear the real story of The Great Pharaoh's from the star of such documentaries as Raiders of the Lost Ark and Firewall. As we stepped through the doors of the gallery I opened up my brain-pad and began to take in all the knowledge of the ancient world that $30 could bring me. Here are some things that I have learned during my visit to the museum:

1. Ancient Egypt was probably very old.

2. Unlike Dr. Harrison Ford, Archaeologist tend to be introverted and lazy. So it takes them a long time to discover anything.

3. My friend Ivan doesn't like to have his neck kissed be me in public or ever.

4. Moses enjoyed being a slave but was he was allergic to cats. So he fucked off.

5. Egypt was founded by aliens through something called "the Stargate."

6. Electricity was not invented yet.

7. Security Guards do not like the words "Bomb" "Gun" "Fucking Huge Gun" and "Rambo" shouted at the top of my lungs.

8. Modern Egypt is predominantly a Muslim country with Islam as its state religion. Between 80% and 90% are identified as Muslim. This is partly due to the climate being hot and sandy with nothing else to do but to believe in ridiculous things.

9. My friend Ivan possesses $30 and two major credit cards in his wallet.

10. It is okay to rob and loot somebody's house in order to sell their possessions to a museum as long as they are dead.

This last fact brings me to the story of Howard Carter, an English archaeologist who happened upon the tomb of Tutankhamen, the greatest archaeological discovery of all time!

Tutankhamun was the Robert Pattinson of his day.

Here is the story of Howard Carter's discovery.

On the night of February 16th, 1922, Howard Carter polish off yet another bottle of Sir Willfred Scott's New Fashioned Heroin Water. Then after taking his recommended dosage of whiskey tonic (doctor prescribed) he set off to perform his nightly "stagger" through the pyramids. His left arm was tired from perpetually slamming down Whiskey Tonic while his right arm was tired from exhaustively thrashing his boy slave Ahki for having stolen an embroidered handkerchief 2 years prior. Needless to say he was a bit run down.

Carter was rounding each corridor of the pyramid faster and faster in a hurried attempt to find a mummy to perform intercourse with or as he called it "Pokin' the Crumply." When all of a sudden he found himself pelvis first through a breakaway wall and into a hidden tomb. After 20 minutes of uncontrollable sobbing Carter finally got to his feet where he found that he had stumbled upon the Tomb of Tutankhamen, the Boy king. He quickly staggered back to his camp where he informed everyone, who wasn't brown, all about his discovery. The men broke out a case of their finest camel wine and there was much rejoicing as Howard Carter thrashed his boy slave in celebration.

File Photo of Howard Carter' Discovery.

The next day Carter and his men haggardly looted the tomb. From the dusty ruins they pulled out gold and jewels the likes of which have never been seen. Or would ever be seen. For Carter and his men ran off with their burgled wares. It was only 3 weeks later that Carter himself was caught by Egyptian authorities in an Opium Den in Cairo. He was found with three golden ceremonial masks, two chests filled with precious jewelery, and the mummified remains of the Boy King Tutankhamen. It had appeared that the mummy's jaw had been pryed open and had been encrusted with pearls of dried seamen. Howard Carter was then heard to reply, "I thought the boy could keep a secret."**

**as written on Howard Carter's tombstone.

Being white and of English ancestry myself, I felt it was my right, nay, my duty to plunder and catalog all the riches that lay before me. Perhaps it was the spirit of Howard Carter possessing my mind but I soon found myself smashing the glass protecting Queen Ramaisas' sarcophagus with a single soccer hooliganish head butt. Sirens blared, men came, Ivan was shot. To make a long story short I am legally prohibited from setting foot in anyplace beginning with the letter "E" ever again. But I believe that this is all for the better, because I've finally realized my true calling in life. That is to gather 30 or so men, find the grave of Howard Carter, bust it up something nice and strip it of all it's wares.

Perhaps then I too, shall have my our exhibit in the AGO. Narrated of course by our very own Dr. Harrison Ford author of the Nobel prize winning essay, Blade Runner.

- Graham Gray

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Santa's Christmas Diary 2008

The kid has been sitting on my lap for almost 5 minutes. He hasn't uttered a word. His parents are standing behind the velvet rope encouraging him to "tell Santy" what he wants for Christmas. The kid just stares at me motionless. Behind his dead eyes all I can see is the greed and the corruption that has become of this holiday. I whisper into his ear that if he ever opens another present again that I'm going to climb down his chimney and beat the merry shit out of him so hard that his soul will come oozing out him like pus from a cyst. He begins to cry and his parents take him away. He took my threat fairly well for a child of only 3 years. My suicidal depression thickens.
Welcome to the void that is St. Nick little one.

A few weeks before Christmas, every year I am forced by the elder god's to make a single appearance in one mall in Canada to listen to the needs of my people. The children. I pose as that of a simple mall Santa and to do this all I have to due is rub dog food into my beard, spray myself sparingly with the scent of vaginal lubricant and lose more hope than I normally possess (if that is at all possible). I even get paid the same hourly wage of $9.75 for my time, which will go immediately the first prostitute I find that doesn't carry any visible lesions. Shemale or no. For this day has weighed heavy on my soul and any warm bodied affection that I can receive at this point shall be most welcome. Santa just wants to drink someone else's fluids. Is that so wrong?

Every year becomes more dreary than the last. The amount of spoilage and hedonism that modern children are exposed to would make Caligula himself blush with shame. They come lining up from around the block to not so much tell Santa what they want but rather command it. Demanding tiny robotic trinkets that play music at a fingers touch, dolls of a sultry young tulip named Hannah Montana and something involving an Italian-American immigrant plunging his way through the septic system of a tortoise infested kingdom. For play only on "Nine-Ten-Does". I have no idea what this cryptic speech insinuates. Only one thing is for sure. I have woken up to a horrible future and I want out.

Lose Me, Hate me, Smash Me, Erase Me - Trent Reznor

The next dwarf to parade their white northly-american ass in my face comes in the form of a little girl, no more than 8 years, with salon styled curls. She plops on my lap without consent and begins to prattle on about all the gifts she wants to receive and undoubtably will receive.

In the midst of her high pitched vibrating I notice something horrific. The erection in my jolly red pants is growing. Dear Christ! Has all my hatred and self loathing finally turned into uncontrollable sexual viciousness? Can this be happening again? This festive lolita has incited a most terrible lust in me. A lust to destroy, maim and rape all that is innocent and good. To put onto others all the pain and the isolation that I feel all year round in my icy fortress. At this very moment I vomit nearly three litres worth of bile and figgie pudding into the little angel's mouth. She tries to scream but instead it comes out a gurgling mess of fig bits and fear. I must flee. I must get as far away from this place as I can. I throw the little jezebel into the display case of a nearby perfume store and waddle run as fast as I can into the nearest washroom. I hear the sound of broken perfume bottles and shattered childhood fantasies behind me. The mall begins to fill with the scent of a thousand perfumes wafting into one invisible beast. I call that beast "woman" but I digress.

I vomit what is left of my yellowy Christmas feast into a grimy men's room toilet. The patrons of the Men's room do nothing but gaze upon me in some sort of confused holiday stupor. I tell them all that if they don't mind their own business that, come Christmas Eve, I will slit their fucking nostrils with an Exacto Knife made of good cheer. They all hurriedly leave the washroom, till the only one remaining is the mall manager Mr. Densley. He begins to berate me about my performance as this years Santa and that he will be docking me one hours wage for my actions. He then attempts to intimidate me into returning to work. But I have not lived 2000 years to be bullied by some prissy slack wearing bourgeoisie. I am the Clause, the all powerful demi-god that wears the family crest of a flying snake devouring a gorilla. He clearly has never felt the Yuletide wrath of St. Nicholas before, but will soon taste the bitter fruit of that angry tree. I strike him with a beam of blue snowflaked riddled magic causing him to convulse and moan on the floor. From this day forth he will forever keep Christmas in his heart and be loving and charitable towards his fellow man. Oh Clause, you truly are one cruel Cringle.

I am the black sheath. I am the dark bearer.

Mr. Densley staggers out of the washroom to spread his newfound joy and good will to all. The fool. He knows nothing of the sting of immortality. The constant years of nothingness and pain without end. The unending servitude to a holiday without end. I should never have made love to that dreaded witch queen those 2000 years ago. She would never have then enslaved me to the Christ child, who forces me to forever give most generously to the sickest and most depraved of all beings on this planet. The Children. Well, Christ child, you've made quite the fool of me for lo, these many years. But I say no more.

I pull the single-action .45 ACP semi-automatic pistol out of my boot. An early christmas present to Mrs. Clause that I was going to unload into her forehead come Christmas Eve but now it appears that I will be indulging in this gift and not her. I pity the bitch. I take off all my clothes and stand in front of Men's room mirror. I'm now stark naked except for my boots. I inspect my genitals one last time and sigh to find how time has ravaged my once boyish scrotum. The clip inside the gun holds 12 bullets, but I'll need only one. I put the barrel into my mouth and bite down hard on the cold steel. Merry Christmas to all the little fucktard children of Earth! May the Devil eat your souls!

I pull the trigger.

click




click




click


click
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click
click

click!
click!
click!
click!
click!

............Damn you Christ Child. Why won't you let me die?




Santa's Scrapbook of 2008

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Halo Again

Android here.
I am not dead
and I have returned with a new website : http://www.android.cjb.net
Currently, I am writing new material for my new album. The tentative title is "Never Going Home." It should be done within the next few months. Here is a picture of myself writing some fresh compositions for you:

No I am not a christian, but thanks for asking.
The tracklisting is as follows:
1. Android Android
2. Never Going Home
3. Smash It All Down
4. You and Me
5. Old James and The Devil
6. Untitled for now
7. Shades of Brown and Gray
8. Untitled for now

Unlike my previous album, "Wolfgang EP", this one will feature a full band. Featuring members of Jordana and the Bastard Hammers, Kangoskatbot and Kori Kan't Read. Also featuring EX-members of The Green Room Side Project, Vaya and Akward Silence.

Sunday, April 02, 2006

Android begins....