So.

I have this web log, see.

It is called "hot sandwich." You are reading it right now. It is fantastic. It is the best web site you have ever visited. It brightens your days. You are happy to have found it.

This makes me feel warm and tingly inside. For if there is one thing I desire above all else it is happiness for you, the internet public.

At the foot of each post here at this hot sandwich, you are invited to leave your comments. You gladden my heart when you leave your comments. It makes this hot sandwich feel less like a diary and more like a Real Actual Internet Web Site.

One of last week's posts drew many, many comments. It was the post about going to see a rock band called "Killing Joke."

The comments were not about Killing Joke. Instead they were about a rock band from Saskatchewan called "The Young Republicans."

The Young Republicans were a terrible band. I know because I was their guitar player. Holy cow did we ever suck. We were rotten rotten rotten. Here is a sound clip illustrating our rottenness:

"Ho ho ho hooooo!"

But we had a fantastic name and a fuck-you approach to our critics, so we managed to play several shows before the citizens of Saskatchewan ordered us, at gunpoint, to disband.

I bring all this up not for nostalgia's sake, but rather out of necessity. The aforementioned flurry of comments, see, touches repeatedly on the sordid history of The Young Republicans.

In particular, one internet citizen named "Charles" revealed himself, through his comments, to have an intimate knowledge of The Young Republicans and their song catalogue. This was wicked-ass creepy, on account of I don't know anybody named Charles. So it's totally some kind of crazy undercover stealth anonymity deal.

Basically what I'm saying is I have an internet stalker and I am hella freaked.

Who is Charles?

Who is Charles?

How does he know about The Young Republicans?

Does he like to eat ham?

Ham is good.

Posted by Bret at 09:39 PM | Comments (10)

If you are a gentleman living in Ontario and you have recently had your prostate examined you are probably feeling uncomfortable right now.

Check that. If you have recently had your prostate examined you are probably feeling uncomfortable right now no matter where you live. This is understandable. The prostate is a gland located deep inside your rear end, see, so having it examined consists of a thorough and vigorous probing. In the rear end. Sometimes this is performed with just a physician's loving fingers. Other times it involves an ultrasound transducer.

For your convenience a photo of just such a device appears at the top of this post. Can you guess what category of device it belongs in? Correct! It is an ARS Probe.

Now. In addition to the considerable discomfort inherent in a prostate exam, gentlemen in Ontario have fresh cause for concern. This is because it has recently come to light that many hospitals in that fair province have not been doing a good scraping off the ARS Probes between uses.

Here is how the procedure is supposed to work:

1. "Please drop trou, sir."
2. "Please show us your date, sir."
3. (Buzzing sound.)
4. (Sung) "Moon river, wider than a mile."
5. "Thank you sir. Would you like a lollipop to take home?"
6. Enthusiastic washing.
7. "Hello sir. The technician will be right with you."
8. "Please drop trou, sir."
9. Etc.

The problem is that everyone has been forgetting about step 6. That is unfortunate. Normally I refrain from moral judgments here at this hot sandwich, but today I will make an exception. Here is my moral judgment:

Failing to wipe the ARS Probes between uses is not acceptable. Try harder, health professionals!

That is all.

Posted by Bret at 01:06 PM | Comments (2)

So, there's this guy. His name is Jaz Coleman. He is in charge of a pop band called "Killing Joke."

The joke is that Killing Joke and Jaz Coleman are not funny. Instead they are angry. Holy cow are they angry. They are so angry that, at one of their concerts, when they play a song about a meteorite crashing into Earth and kiling everybody, it is a refreshingly breezy change of pace.

I am getting ahead of myself. Gordie of the Rocks took me to see Killing Joke two weeks ago. They were playing a show at a club called "Lee's Palace."

Lee is a dirty liar and his club is not a palace. If Lee cared a whit about accuracy or integrity the sign outside would read "Lee's Large Stinky Room Where You Can Buy Some Beer While A Rock Band Plays On A Stage."

But that would be a very large sign. And as I was just saying the place is not a palace. So it totally doesn't have a large facade for hanging a very large sign. Maybe it was the signmaker's fault and not Lee's.

So, Jaz Coleman. He and Killing Joke are very old. They had club hits in England in the early 1980s. Yes, that is very old indeed. Consider the other recording artists who had club hits in the early 1980s:

...

Er.

I can't think of any because I didn't go to clubs in the early 1980s. Unless you count Scouts. You don't, do you?

In Scouts we listened to a lot of music by Styx and Asia and Toto and Trio. In retrospect, we should have listened to Killing Joke instead. That would totally have made Scouter Glenn uncomfortable and we always liked doing that.

At Lee's Large Stinky Room, Jaz Coleman came out on stage and shambled around making these hunchy vampire poses. He looked exactly like that guy on TV who shambles around his house and complains about the dog poo. (Apparently that guy also had club hits in England in the early 1980s but as you just learned my knowledge of the period is weak and thin.) Jaz Coleman was silly but he was fun to watch so nobody minded that he was silly.

At one point, he and Killing Joke played the song about the meteorite. Here is how it went.

"Chung chung chung-CHUNG,
Cha-chung chung chung-CHUNG,
Cha-chung chung chung-CHUNG,
Cha-CHUNG.

ASSSS-terrr-OOIID!"

Gordie of the Rocks likes Men Without Hats too.

Posted by Bret at 11:00 AM | Comments (9)