Is there an interview with George W. Bush today at strongsmell.com?

Yes there is. You must either read it, or side with the terrorists.

Posted by Bret at 04:33 PM

This morning Safety Carrot went once again to her regular Thursday-morning activity, a lecture series on the restoration and reconstruction of antique string instruments. Since you are a regular visitor here at this hot sandwich, you will remember that it was at an earlier lecture in this series that the Carrot and I shared a room and meaningful glances with a Real Live Rock Star.

I did not personally attend this morning; the Carrot went with her grandfather, an enthusiastic Strad collector in his own right. Afterward, as they walked the short block between the lecture hall and their favourite espresso bar, a squeaky-voiced stranger approached and said:

"That's quite a handful you've got there."

"No offence, dumbass," Safety Carrot replied, "but of course it's a handful. You don't carry a Strad around in a backback. You just don't."

Here is a picture of the squeaky-voiced stranger:

Apparently he used to be a mayor or something but city council forced him out to make room for a guy who was just like the current USA president only dumber and less subtle.

Posted by Bret at 04:24 PM

As you know already, the USA Terror Alert is "Orange" today, which indicates...

Uh.

Really, I have no idea what "Orange" means. Well done, Tom Ridge.

Recently, Tom Ridge set up a web site that tells USA citizens to buy duct tape, and also tells what they should do when the terrorists pounce. Well done, Tom Ridge.

A few days ago, Sean of Calgary sent me an email that was full of even-more-useful advice for citizens concerned about what to do in case of terrorist attack. Well done, Sean of Calgary.

Unfortunately, I do not know haw to link to email. So instead I direct your attention to this web site, which features the same set of useful advice and also features easy-to-read large type.

It is only by working together that we can stop the hurt. Please give generously.

Send me five dollars.

Posted by Bret at 09:28 AM

What is this hot sandwich all about? Three things:

1. Results.
2. Prompt efficient customer service.
3. Nude photographs.
3a. Foodstuffs.
3b. Condiments.

Number two is of particular interest today. As you will recall, just yesterday a member of the internet public suggested I prepare a feature entitled "Weapons of Ass Destruction." And now, scant hours after that bold and wise note, I am pleased to announce the arrival of just such a feature at strongsmell.com.

It will probably give you chills.

Posted by Bret at 03:34 PM

I got two letters today.

Here is what the first one said:

Given the recent "bum" fetish on hotsandwich and the gritty, in-depth coverage of the war on strongsmell (especially the riveting interview with Colon Bowel), I think the time is ripe for a convergence with a hard-hitting topic called:

Weapons of Ass Destruction.

Just a thought.

Yer pal...

(Name witheld for the sake of propriety)

That is a very good idea indeed. Tomorrow, a bold and vigorous new feature will make its debut, either here on this hot sandwich or over on the silky-smooth pages of strongsmell.com. I have not yet decided which so you better check both.

Here is what the other letter said:

Re: Colin Powell

It appears to me that it is plagiarism if attribution is not given where appropriate.

Sincerely,

Your sister

A little background: More than a month ago my sister sent me a letter asking what I thought of Colon Bowel's Iraq-does-SO-have-bad-weapons performance at the UN. I thought the "Colon Bowel" part was vulgar and tasteless, so naturally assumed that my father was responsible. Clearly, he had either come up with it on his own or read it on a bathroom wall somewhere and devoted himself to "spreading" the "meme."

But no. My sister invented it all by herself. So I owe her full credit. Internet content-thieves, please take note:

Any reference to the USA Secretary of State as "Colon Bowel" is the exclusive intellectual property of Paula J. Kelly, who is my sister and is not usually given to public displays of vulgarity or tastelessness but who has clearly made an exception for the benefit of you, the internet public. You are welcome.

Posted by Bret at 12:37 PM

Is there an interview with Colin Powell at strongsmell.com today?

Yes.

Posted by Bret at 04:25 PM

You have missed this hot sandwich very much. It was gone for a while because there is a children's basketball tournament going on in the USA right now and it was my duty to tell everybody about it.

This is really super good timing when you think about it. There are all kinds of marching bands all over the place in the USA because of the children's basketball, and now that there's a war on they can play "Battle Hymn of the Republic" and wave Old Glory around and all the spectators will get all misty-eyed.

I don't know why we're having a war. In that sense it is a bit like the old lady who swallowed a fly.

Perhaps we'll die.

Posted by Bret at 01:34 PM

I really have to apologize for all the crudeness you have had to endure over the past few days here at this hot sandwich. I do not have a good excuse, except to say that I am immature. Sorry.

Now, on with current matters. I have still not had any luck in my pursuit of screenwriting riches, so it is time to post another hot idea for a hot new film that will generate hot excitement at the hot box office. If you are a movie producer, please make a film of this idea and then send me money when it is a bang-up success. Here is the idea:

Three generations of women ninjas overcome a dark family secret through laughter, tears, and home cooking.

There's this grandmother ninja named Eunice. She gets really old and comes to live with her daughter Flo, who is a ninja. Then a few days later Flo's 22-year-old daugher Brittiney moves back home after a big fight with her roommate. Brittiney is a ninja too.

They decide to make dinner together but they argue about what the main course should be and next thing you know they've got the swords and the throwing stars out and you just know there's going to totally be bloodshed.

Then Eunice remembers that her father used to be mean. Everybody cries.

I'm thinking maybe Flo should throw a vase and break it but I don't want it to get too hammy.

Posted by Bret at 04:20 PM

Remember yesterday's post about fragrance? Remember how it came with convenient links to information about ambergris? Of course you do. It was great.

It was so great it brought out the bard in my father, who sent in the following bit of bawdy verse:

The amazing story of ambergris and The story of female horsey piss Is that neither or either or both of the two Smell anything like you might think they would do.

When a sperm whale spouts sputum from deep in its tummy
It barfs on the ocean a substance so yummy
That wise French parfumers who came from Cologne
Would scoop it and blend it and make it their own

Then bottle and sell it for outlandish prices
To women and men and young gamblers with dices
And when they applied it on neck, nape and knee
Behold they erupted in hornified glee

And sex followed sex and before you could know
There was boy child and girl child wherever you'd go
And too many children got into the way
Of oversexed parents who wanted to stay

Childless, or maybe just one kid or two
But they kept on happening, Oh what could they do?
So then came a horse named Seattle Slew
She used to run fast before going to the zoo.

She said I just think that I have a solution
To stop all this child stuff thing called pollution
I pee in a bottle and give it to you
And you take a drink every time that you screw

Well would you believe that something amazing
Came out of the drinking of horsey pee tasting
The women stayed sexy if cuddled with touch
But they didn't get pregnant not nearly so much

And then some rich Yank who made pills by the scores
Pressed horse piss to tablets behind his lab doors
And sold them to women the whole wide world over
And that is how ambergris came into Dover

And women were happy and felt liberated
And men thought that women had been underrated
And now when a whale honks across the blue sea
A horse whinnies happily when she takes a pee.

Maybe it is time we put my father in a home.

Posted by Bret at 04:47 PM

Hello.

Over the past few days, many people have found themselves in the death-grip of a powerful curiousity.

"Where," they wondered, "will Phil Housley, a professional hockey player, play his professional hockey this spring?"

It has been my duty to assuage this curiousity, my duty to tell people about Phil Housley and his whereabouts. I have consequently been distracted and unavailable to serve you with regular updates to this hot sandwich. For this I apologize. You deserve better, really you do.

Before I resume service, however, it is your turn to serve me. I need your help. I am confused, and I hope you can make me less so.

Here is a picture I found on the information superhighway:

Am I:

1. correct in my belief that this is a product unlikely to sell well no matter how vigorous the promotion, or;
2. just helplessly naïve?

The problem is the name. Because "Ass fragrance" sounds like it would smell all farty and who would want that?

Not me. I like to smell of pine and lemon and ambergris, which is what sperm whales barf up when they have been eating too many squid beaks.

Posted by Bret at 04:55 PM

After a long, long wait without any TQC™ from this hot sandwich, you are due for a treat. Unfortunately, your wait is not over yet. Maybe it will be later today.

What sort of treat are you in for? This sort:

1. The aerosol cheese question, resolved at last.
2. An ethical dilemma re: Christian Potenza.
3. Donuts!
4. Doughnuts!
5. More brushes with celebrity.
6. Swampy gas-station restrooms.
7. That is enough treats.

Posted by Bret at 08:43 AM

A few years ago Kate and I went on a camping trip in Botswana to see the elephants and the hippos. Both kinds of animals, you may be surprised to learn, are big.

It was a group thing. We and ten-or-so other people, plus two guides, went 4x4ing through the swamps and the bushveld, taking many, many photos as we went. Here is one for you to enjoy:

There were two Australians in our party. Their names were Angela (she preferred to be called "Anj") and Susan ("Sue"). They were schoolteachers.

One day we were buying groceries in Maun, which is a lovely town except for its airport bar, which is called "The Tail Spin." Kate and I and Anj and Sue were hanging outside the grocery store afterward enjoying a Fanta when a little ratlike pug-dog came along and sniffed us. It was friendly and wagged its tail at us. Then it turned around and left, holding its tail high in the air. We all got a really clear bullseye view if you know what I mean.

"Hello," said Sue, "he's showing us his date."

"Yuck," said Kate, sensibly.

Afterward, we went for a drive to our next camping spot and built a fire. Then, as the sun set, we all tried hard to find excuses to say "date."

"That dog had the darkest date I've ever seen."

"Kiss my date."

"Boy, prices are high here. They've totally got you bending over and having it up the date."

Etc.

None of this is really worth being proud of but it was before the dotcom bust and there was a lot of silliness going around.

On the weekend, as you will remember, Kate and I watched a TV show about people who like to kiss each other and sometimes more on the bum, totally bullseye. Kate thought of a good name for that kind of unsavoury fun:

"Dating," she said.

Haw!

Now you know.

To Jeff Liu, who helpfully sent in a pamphlet about something called "rimming," I have two things to say:

1. Please do not send any more pamphlets.
2. Yuck.

Posted by Bret at 07:57 PM

There is a fresh interview with Donald Rumsfeld at strongsmell.com.

You are welcome.

That is enough posting for today.

Posted by Bret at 04:54 PM

You are in for a treat, lusty babes. For the man of your dreams is here, and he is available. His name is Gordon Fleming. You may have read about him in the newspaper. If you have not, you should go read about him now. His hobbies include music, fine dining, the outdoors, and playful hijinks with mannequins.

Apparently there is a web site where you can read all about him and send him a note. He is getting internet access on the weekend so he will write you back then.

If you are not a lusty babe, please disregard this message.

Posted by Bret at 02:26 PM

Last night in the middle of the night, sometime around 1:30, there was a terrible pounding on our front door.

Knock knock knock knock.

(brief pause)

Knock knock knock KNOCK.

(brief pause)

Knock knock knock knock KNOCK KNOCK FRICKIN' KNOCK.

"It's a bit early for Safety Carrot's Cantonese students to be arriving, don't you think?" Kate asked.

I agreed. True, the Carrot's students are eager. True, the Carrot is a fine, fine instructor. But classes start at ten on the dot, and all the enrolled youngsters are bright and self-confident, and they understand that showing up early will curry no favours for anyone.

Still, I thought it best to ask the Carrot.

"Of course it's not one of my students," she said. "My students are one-and-a-half years old. When have you ever met a one-and-a-half-year-old who could make that much noise knocking on a solid oak door? What are you, stupid?"

"Uh..." I began.

"Look, either you can be a man and go see who's at the door, or I can do it and you can spend the next sixty years feeling sheepish every time you look me in the eye."

Knock knock knock KNOCK.

"You're the one with the black belt," I countered.

"Exactly. Go see who's at the door before I kick your ass."

So I did. As I went down the stairs, three possibilities crossed my mind:

1. It was a robber, making sure the place was empty before busting in.
2. It was the secret police, coming to haul one or more of us off to the gulag.
3. It was our drunken neighbour, not sure which house was his or where his keys were, looking for somebody to help.

Quelle surprise! It was none of the above. No, it was a pleasant, even-tempered man with a wiry frame.

"You Bret Dawson?"

"Yessssirree," I said.

Then he handed me my chequebook. And then a plastic bag containing my stylish eyeglasses, two of my notebooks, and my library book about Frisbees. It was the contents of my stolen man purse! I had written them off for dead and never dared hope to see them again, but here they were, knocking on the front door at 1:30 in the morning!

"Hello, boys," I said to them, fondly. Then I dug a little deeper in the bag but failed to find what I was looking for. "Hey. Where's my frickin' gum?"

The man at the door looked guilty. "I had a herring sandwich for dinner. What was I supposed to do?"

I gave him one of those looks that could cut glass.

"So," he said, changing the subject, "about the reward. What say we make it 6,000 bucks?"

"Up yours."

"600."

"Up yours."

"Ten."

"Nope."

"Eight."

"F off."

"Spare some change?"

I gave him a nickel. Then I shoved him down the front steps. But it was snowing out so he had a soft landing.

Posted by Bret at 02:17 PM

Like you, I am of course delighted that the forces of evil are in retreat and that the man who planned the Sept. 11 airplane crashes, Al-Qaeda mastermind Khalid Shaikh Mohammed, is in custody.

I do think, however, that it would be good to point something out. Specifically, the following uncanny resemblance:

Al-Qaeda mastermind Khalid Shaikh Mohammed		Erotic film star Ron Jeremy

Do you think they're brothers?

I do. Twin brothers separated at birth. Wicked, eh?

I bet Khalid is totally wishing he could trade places with his brother right now.

Posted by Bret at 09:51 PM

The other night Kate and I were watching that TV show about women who live in New York and drink a lot of cocktails, over which they discuss, in clinical detail, the ups and downs of their intimate lives. It stars Cynthia Nixon and Kristin Davis and that woman Nicolas Cage gambled away in a card game in that movie Honeymoon in Vegas. Sometimes it has cussing and nudity in it, so they don't show it on TV until late at night.

The episode Kate and I were watching was full of embarrassing conversations about people who like to do embarrassing things in their intimate lives. For example:

1. Baby-talking to an intimate partner.
2. Kissing an intimate partner on the bum.
3. Not just on the cheek either but totally bullseye if you know what I mean.
4. And sometimes not only kissing.

Ew.

So anyway, there were some funny scenes when Cynthia Nixon was having intimate time with a friend and he kept hopefully raising his nude man-bum up in the air.

And when the single women on the TV show recounted this over cocktails, they all had a good laugh calling the intimate bum-activity "tucchus lingus." But I didn't get it because I'm from Saskatchewan and am not fluent in Yiddish.

"Tucchus" is Yiddish for bum, see. Apparently they're big on Yiddish in New York. So once Kate explained that it all made sense for the TV show.

Then I asked Kate if she had heard of a more universal euphemism for the intimate bullseye kissing.

"Dating?" she suggested, helpfully.

Haw!

If you don't know why that was hilarious you have to wait for the next update.

Posted by Bret at 03:56 PM | Comments (1)