An Open Letter to the Canadian Prime Minister



Dear Canadian Prime Minister,

I know what your real name is because I googled it. I’ve decided to call you Canadian Prime minister because it makes this open letter sound more ominous.

Hey, its me Moses.

I’ve decided to become Canadian and here are some things I’ve done.

  • I jerked off to a photo of Dave Coulier with a mullet.
  • Watched Jeopardy and basked in the glory of his highness Lord Alex Trebek.
  • Put some maple syrup on my pancakes. (It wasn’t from Vermont)
  • Watched Hockey
  • Called money “Loonies” and didn’t call a person a loonie.
  • Drank beer that came from Canada.
  • Hid out in a walk in freezer for a 8 months to simulate a Canadian winter.
  • Converted everything to the metric system. (WHICH WAS REALLY HARD)
  • Went in to a hospital and PAID NOTHING for healthcare. I think it was free.
  • I laughed once at a recent Mike Myers movie.
  • I apologize frequently and am polite.

I’m willing to trade Alaska if it means citizenship. I might not technically be able to make the trade but I’ve got a can do attitude and a willingness to work.

Anyway, I know you’re busy with Canadian stuff so if you could go ahead and get back to me when you get a chance. My only alternative to an open Canadian citizenship process would be to just marry some random Canadian girl. WHICH I WILL DO, if forced.

Hopefully your new citizen.


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Observations Part 4


Just some observations for you all.

I don’t drink Colombian coffee. I snort it, and its probably not black its white. And its probably not Coffee.

The only thing worse than a rapist is a clown rapist. The only thing worse than a clown rapist is a clown rapist with a venereal disease who moon lights as a serial killer.

As a man you should always play hard to get………………..In prison…. Actually you should play impossible to get.

Remember that you’ll only be young for a short amount of time. You’ll end up spending more time being ugly and old.

Ladies what if you cheat on your boyfriend with the same boyfriend before you meet him? #time machine.

If you’re the first one to jump off a plane sky diving, be sure to yell, “I sabotaged my parachute, I go to meet the lord!” right before you jump.

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Silly Romance Novel Cover Artwork

Well look at you getting two blog posts this week.

Aren’t you lucky!

After writing my last Tuesday blog post, I thought I’d post some of the other cover art I came across. ENJOY!

pee scottie sissy what yea lower kangaroo


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I Do Not Believe in Soul Mates.



Call me unromantic, call me an asshole. I don’t believe in never ending love. I don’t believe in a love so strong that it conquers all. AND I CERTAINLY do not believe that, “all you need is love.” According to the Beatles.

Let me explain.

As much as its comforting to believe that there can be only one other person in the world for us, its very dangerous. If soul mates existed wouldn’t divorce cease to exist? What would be the point of “moving on” if you lost your soul mate to tragedy? No one could possibly compare to this person, your only alternative would be suicide.

I do believe that some people can live their lives to an extent that their whole being is encompassed in a spouse. I also believe that you can find someone you want to spend your whole life with and then one day *POOF* a completely different person will walk into your life and you’ll develop feelings for that person. Even though you’re married, its possible to be attracted to other people. We all wish that once we’re married, our sexual attraction button would shut off for everyone but our spouse. Unfortunately that’s not the case.

There are people out there reading this and cringing and judging. Before you do that let me set the record straight on what I do believe.

I believe in realistic love. 

I believe that we are all looking for someone who puts up with our bullshit. Someone who has qualities we want in our lives, someone whose bull shit we’ll put up with and a person who we’ll grow with as we get older.

That’s it.

Right now ask yourself why you’re attracted to your significant other.

If your answer is, “I don’t know, I just know that I love them.” You might want to reconsider why you are with that person.

If your answer is, “every time I freak out they calm me down and keep me grounded.” That’s a very specific reason and one that will ground you through out the years.

I also don’t believe people should dip their fries into Mayonnaise but that’s a blog post for another day.

In closing I leave you with this:



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I Have an Amazing Butt

I don’t mean to brag.

Butt I do.

1. I’ve caught a total of three women checking out my butt.

2. Its a nice large size but not too big.

3. It holds my pants up.


If my butt were a country it would be the President of The United Butts of America.

If my butt were a product it would be the ibutt.

A girl once touched my butt and orgasmed instantly.


I once cured butt cancer with my butt.

I once used my butt as a weapon. I killed a terrorist and preserved freedom.

Have you ever been to a full 60,000 seat auditorium for a concert? That’s what happens when I use the elliptical at my gym.


I once caused a 5 hour traffic jam when I bent over to pick up a quarter off the ground.

My butt is a pied piper.

My butt.


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The Worst Day Of My Life.

I woke up naked.

Wondering where I was, what had happened. My eyes hurt like I a bad hangover. Through the blur, I became aware of my surroundings. I was in a small dirt room, the walls were white brick and it smelled like a burnt orange. That was of course between the smell of blood and sweat emanating from my body. I had a large stitched incision in my abdomen and I felt sick to my stomach.

I moved towards the door and tried opening it. A loud command in a language I didn’t understand yelled back at me.

I backed away from the door.

“How did I get here?!” “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?” I thought to myself.

I knew I wasn’t getting out of here soon. I slumped to the ground in a heap and waited…

Hours later…

The door flung open. A man with an AK47 walked up to me and kicked me. He yelled something and I got up.

He wanted me to go ahead of him down the hallway. I slowly walked past him and out of the room.

I walked as fast as I could down hallways and through garbage filled rooms, His constant yelling kept me going further and further down this rabbit hole. I finally came to a dirty room with bed and a table. There was a door that looked like it lead outside. A pair of shorts and a shirt were hung on a hook. He pointed at them and said something. He wanted me to put the clothes on. I hurriedly did so.

He produced a pair of flip flops and threw them at me. When I put them on and looked up, he had produced a brown bag. Throwing it at me I caught it in mid air.

He wanted me to get out of there… I didn’t ask twice.

When I opened the door I walked outside to a busy street somewhere in Mexico. My life it seemed, had gotten interesting.


We see a large classroom, I’m standing at a podium surrounded by children and about to give the final line to my book.

“And that children is why you should never, ever be a drug mule for the Sinoloa Cartel.” The children, their mouths agape had no way to process the information I had just given them.

“The good news is that the bag contained thirty thousand dollars.” “I used that money to start a business, and here I am today.” “With hard work, determination and a little creativity even you can make your dreams a reality.”

A small child with a be freckled face raised his hand. “What about the incision?” He squeaked.

“Snitches get stitches.” I said calmly. “The cartel wanted me to remember what I had done.”

The reality? I had cut myself accidentally on broken mug the week before and had completely forgotten when I woke up in Mexico.

*If you look at the previous post to this one, a reader challenged me to write about, “Imagine it, You have no food, no home, no friends, can’t speak the language, what do you do, amen.”

So I wrote about it.

The End.

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I realize I haven’t written a blog post in a while.

For that I’m sorry. Pull out your whips, grab your clubs and ready your french ticklers because I have no excuse.

I’ve been working a shit ton of hours, 115 hours in 2 weeks to be exact. (meh not a real excuse if you ask me)

My brother got married, (not a real excuse)

I was best man in his wedding, (again not a real excuse)

and I’ve been doing a lot of improv comedy lately. (ok that’s a real excuse).

I do plan on writing more stuff, I love posting GIF stories but those can be tedious when you don’t have all the free time in the world to find the best gif of a baby laughing or someone getting kicked in the balls.

Seriously someone give me something to write about.


Give me something.

Your Pal,


PS. Please don’t give me the idea of a 30 day blog challenge you bastards… I’ve already done one and I hated it.

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