Inside Doug's Head

I am not a number, I am… What's that stuff they make glue out of? I'm that. Forever swirling, forwards and upwards, but always sticky. Sometimes, a little sad.

You know how ostriches, when they want to hide from reality, bury their heads in the sand? It’s not true, but it’s where the expression comes from. Somebody saw an ostrich looking for a contact lens in the sand, and immediately assumed they were hiding from something, or up to no good and didn’t want to be identified.

Canadians, in the winter, which is nine months of the year, have no access to unfrozen sand. Only permafrost and peat bogs. It’s a cold barren wasteland, where babies die from socialized health care. To avoid the reality of their shitty way of life as blessed by a Liberal Party government, they bury their heads in each other’s arseholes. It’s warmer than cold sand.

Everything is great, we are God’s chosen people, not the Jews or the Americans. Canadians are the greatest people on Earth, but we be humble so nobody asks us any follow up questions. Thogs are smrty. Eh?

It actually works, same effect as sand, just different feelings. Different odors, and new friends. Might be a lovely day.

Stupid idiots. They should travel more. See how ‘great’ things really are in China before they say they really admire the Chinese government for its mass murder and totalitarianism.

OK, if you kill all the French in Canada, like they killed all the Uyghurs in China, maybe I’ll come back. Did Hitler have the right idea, but the wrong people? No. Absolutely not. Genocide is never the answer. Except for fire ants. Kill the piss right out of them!

This post brought to you by Bushmills Irish whiskey. Provocateurs of drunken deep thoughts since 1608.


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