TRUMPETS SIGNAL THE ARRIVAL OF THE BARF

Last weekend I wanted to take my six year old brother Blade and his girlfriend Judy to African Lion Safari in Guelph. It's a great place where kids can meet their heroes and adults can get their car ripped apart by monkeys with simply outrageous butts.

On the drive there, everything was going smooth until Blade threw Judy's cabbage cone out the window because she made fun of his favourite Aerosmith song, Love in an Elevator. I got all distracted trying to calm them down and I must have made a wrong turn in the process because although we ended up at a jungle adventure park, I don't think it was the right one. After traveling down a long, gravel laneway lined with Arby's billboards and Portuguese flags, we drove underneath a sign that indicated we had reached:

 A Freakin' Lion Safari
Some damn animals

Since the kids were already driving me nuts, I decided we might as well just go with it. It claimed it had lions and there were bound to be bathrooms and somewhere to get fries, so why not?

I drove up to a ticket booth and was met by a guy who looked like Bernie Lomax, the titular character from Weekend at Bernie's, shades and all. His name tag read "Designated Honker", which I assumed had something to do with Women's breasts, since taped to the wall were several printed out pictures of naked women with Melissa Joan Hart's face Photoshopped in.

"20 clams for adults, 10 clams for each for the turds. Parking is 50 but you can park wherever you want, even right here [he pointed down into his lap], the fuck do I care?" he said.

I paid the man and he gave me back one swath of black felt and two swaths or red. On the black he had written in permanent marker, "MAN" and then on each of the red ones he wrote "BABY". We drove on through, parked beside of mound of scrap metal and saw what looked like a fenced-in public swimming pool. 

We soon learned that this was know as "The Pit" and indeed was once a public swimming pool that closed down in the late 80's due to a lamprey infestation. 

A park ranger who was dressed more like a a Jedi, but instead of a light saber he was holding a net, was telling the small gathered crowd what kind of animals were in the pit.

"God' honest truth, it's mostly frogs in there. If you look over by the pile of boots you'll see our lion, her name is Twix. There's some regular Ontario birds, they come and go, whole lotta worms, and there's a litter of beagles that was born two weeks ago. Questions?"

I asked him if there were any other animal attractions in the park and he said to pull our car around behind the west shack if we wanted to experience the freakin' safari. I was hesitant to say the least, but Blade and Judy seemed to be having fun so we hopped back in the car and met the ranger behind the west shack. 

The "Savannah" looked like nothing more than a bunch of interconnected youth soccer fields, compete with rusted out goalposts. The ranger had told me to keep the car under 15 km/h  and just follow the pylons, that looked to me like cheap witch's hats spray painted orange. Several were just blowing in the wind. I didn't understand the strict speed limit until the ranger himself began to jog beside the car, giving a running commentary on the animals in the fields. There wasn't anything too exotic -- a couple of cows, some pigs, a large nest of opossums, but up ahead we spotted some monkeys playing on one of the goalposts.

"Oh shit, what are those?" The ranger asked me, almost out of breath. 

I told him they were monkeys to which he sort of stared at them then veered off into the forest that borders the fields. Never saw him again. 

Based on that I decided to turn around and end the safari portion of our trip.   

There was a small hot dog stand near the old pool that only served toast and jam, so we grabbed a few and ate them on a slightly rotten picnic table. Since it was old it was covered in carvings of people's initials and accusations of homosexuality, but what really drew my attention was something that read "STay AFteR DaRk anD We wilL CUT YOU". As we were finally driving out past the ticket booth on our way home there was a very well made sign with the same slogan. What a day!

TELL A DOG TO HEAL AND SOMETIMES THEY BRING YOU CHICKEN SOUP

My Plan to Improve Our Earth

I think we can all agree that the human world is shitty right now. Europe spent all its money on wine and vacations, the Middle East remains pissed off that they don't ever get winter, the U.S.A. thinks its still a cool teenager when it's really an old man who thinks Tumblr has something to do with Rollerblades, and Asia has yet to fully embrace the NFL. Then there's the rest of the world who hasn't contributed a solid invention since Brazil invented flip flops.

I know this sounds extreme, but maybe it's time to finally anoint a King of the World. I'm not saying I'd be the best man for the job, I mean Huey Lewis or a decent mom would be probably be better, but I would promise to rule on a platform of "Relax everyone, the only things that are serious around here are babies and buddies". Like, if someone yanks your Swatch because their watch isn't funky enough, just let it go. Who cares? But if someone steals your friend Paul, come tell me and I'll send one of my Rhino Riders to get him back and even let him stay a couple of nights in the food court-inspired guest bedroom in the north wing of the castle.

Old Michael brandishing his longsword "Babe Saver" atop my largest bull, the mighty Alan

How am I going to pay my Rhino Riders, Spear-Wielding Black Belt Scientists, SCUBA Bears and live bands? With fully-stocked banquets. This is just simple human math, man. You ever seen Beowulf 3D? Those guys didn't care who much gold was in their socks so long as the banquet hall was full of rice, juice and fun girls who just want to meet some fun guys, no strings attached.

How will I pay for all the produce? I'll grow it, no problem. My castle will be surrounded with fields and pastures and my chefs will be able to live for free in underground tunnels beneath them. There will be a cute little choo choo train that can take them to and fro their neighbours' holes. The train will surface into a forest that I will fill with kittens and sprinklers. This part of the trip is simply for amusement, but I suspect most hole-women will use it to dry their hair thanks to the open air train cars modeled after traditional GT Snow Racers.

Everyone will be able to do whatever they want. The great thing about this decree is that there's bound to be a whole bunch of people who get so bored they'll work anyway. There's no reason to worry that we can't survive this way. Animals are so stupid and yet they live off the Earth with ease. In fact, their biggest threat is our garbage and thirst for mansions.

The only issue I think we're going to have if we go back to living like animals is the whole survival of the fittest thing. When we gave that up following the ice age (it had something to do with jocks wearing nerds as coats instead of killing them), nerds were suddenly able to breed and we ended up with scientists who built us the coolest stuff and made it so we could eat food that was never alive. That makes me think -- when we started making things out of metal, we tried eating it first, right?

Anyway, it wouldn't be fair to treat the weak-bodied, yet strong-minded with disrespect because the point of this whole thing is to be cool. I suggest using a country like Norway as a playground for strong people. They can go climb, fight, kill, surf or whatever and when they go home they will be so relaxed and relaxation is peace unless you have a nightmare about a world without movies.

SNORT YOUR FOOD YOU WON'T GET FULL

In a rare occurrence I used the post office today and I was shocked to find out that it ain't what it used to be. Please read on to find out more, or if you're in a rush just watch this, it's pretty much the same thing.

Anyway, I just wanted to make sure I have all of this on record before things get out of hand. One time I found out that most Ontario milk is 49% egg whites but I didn't say anything because I had just bought a new Where's Waldo? graphic novel and got immersed in it for a month. Thank goodness the Fifth Estate eventually uncovered the story because my protein levels were far above Popeye and I couldn't stop beating up nerds.

A typical 20th century Post Office, or "Silly Bank" as they were called in the Maritime Provinces

Back before computers destroyed everything that old people enjoy, the Post Office was commonly the biggest and most impressive structure in any North American town. Entering through its doors made the Earth feel smaller, a magical place where messages from around the world crossed paths, not unlike a whorehouse close to the airport. Friends and neighbours would wait patiently in line and warn one another about any new immigrants in town while listening to the swingin' sounds of Narf and the Gay Potatoes over the loudspeaker. Going to the Post Office was an enjoyable experience, but like everything except candy, it got all shitty.

A typical modern Shoppers Drug Mart as designed by the wizards at Pixar

Nowadays it's pretty hard to find a post office that isn't in a Shoppers Drug Mart. It's probably because Shoppers cashed in some of their UNLIMITED Optimum points. "Post Office" is the second most expensive item in the Optimum Catalogue, the most expensive being a three course meal cooked by Brent Butt, and served on Brent Butt.

Typical Post Office Clerk, 1986

It used to be you could go to your post office to not only send and receive mail, but also get a malt, a shave, a roast for dinner and a shoulder to cry on all thanks to the friendly clerks who interestingly enough, were usually paid in tires. That's why you sometimes hear post office clerks referred to as "Rubber Dudes". Most clerks were thought of in the same fond regard as the late night television hosts of the day. In fact, Johnny Carson was a post office clerk until he messed up and mailed a bomb to the Taj Mahal after a psychopathic house wive assured him it was nothing but a piping hot pecan pie baked fresh for the emperor.

Artist's rendering of the clerk I met with today

This afternoon I needed send some shoes back to their manufacturer because they were shitty and I didn't like them. My allergies were acting up and I needed some new garbage bags too, so decided to kill three birds with one punch and head to my local Shoppers Drug Mart. At the mail counter I was met by a lady who seemed very pissed off that I didn't really know how to mail a pair of shoes to California. Seriously lady, what the hell? I barely know how to mail a letter anymore, let alone and entire pair of shoes. While I was filling out some form she also yelled at an old Indian man for a bit. Mind you, he was kind of dumb too, but hey, that's the modern post office/drug store for you, every aisle you're met with something you stick in a human hole and a moron. When the clerk asked me "are these a gift?" I should've said, "Yeah, what's the address of your butt?". Instead I thanked her nicely because I'd like to keep the spirit of the post office alive.

Now for some suitable exit music:

OLD YELLOW DOG

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MICKEY MICE

Yesterday, our government announced that they're going to force striking CP Rail workers back to work. I agree! How else will Kamloops receive their summer shipment of molasses and twine? A prairie gelding can't cover that many furlongs in time for harvest. We should definitely support this back to work legislation. Famous Captain "Blackjack" MacDonald of the Canadian Air Brigade should fire up his biplane and litter the soil with informative leaflets and maybe a coupon or two for a nickel off grist.

Okay, so maybe trains aren't as relevant today as they were when it wasn't unreasonable to fear a bear could kidnap your wife, but us Canadians still have fond memories of the rails that built this country. I have particularly fond memories of a one-way to Shawinigan during that hot summer of 2014.

I was in the dining car enjoying a glass of iced soup and a lettuce salad sandwich, when a young escape artist set up a short demo right there in the middle of the center aisle to make a few extra Blue Noses. He said he needed the dimes to take back to his pregnant wife and their young hamster in Halifax as he had recently lost all his money in a toilet fire. After setting up, he asked the busy car for a volunteer. Having declined the opportunity to participate in a public spectacle (nude checkers) back in Kingston and instantly regretting it, I rose quickly from my seat and and dragged a comb through his hair, hobo code for "I'll do it".

The young man began to address the eager crowd and jokingly introduced me as his new assistant, a dullard named "Ribert". I spat on his shoe and we continued. He had me choose from an array of handcuffs, straightjackets, chains, scrunchies and the like, and I immediately gravitated toward a roll of duct tape, mostly because its silver hue reminded me of Aluminum, my favourite Barenaked Ladies song off 2003's "Everything to Everyone".

He rolled me up tight, like a mummy in a pneumatic tube, sat me down beside and older dame and began setting up his easel, canvas and paints. He then gave me the signal to start escaping while he started painting with style, flourishing each stroke while chatting with passengers and also eating a ham sub.

It took my about 3 hours to eat my way out of the tape, at which point the artist was finished. He turned the canvas around and I beheld:

That was the my first and only encounter with an escape artist. I heard that he later went on to sculpt a diorama of Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Princess Leia, Chewbacca, Lando, R2-D2 and C-3PO escaping from Jabba's sail barge, a gift for George Lucas celebrating the opening of his Star Wars-themed basketball experience. 

For Art Beat, I'm Gorgeous Glenn.

ATTACH SPRINGS TO YOUR BIKE AND PEOPLE WILL START TALKING

Frugal Friday

I just got back from my local grocer and saw that Friday Flakes are on sale for $14.99 for a 10kg crate. I can't think of a more applicable and deadly product to feature on Frugal Friday than Friday Flakes, unless black cheese goes on sale of course.

Specs:

• A dried pumpkin pulp flake made with real preservatives
• 10 grams of salt
• No need to add milk, just add water and it turns into something that's like milk
• Will keep until the air is more radiation than oxygen, then they turn into bugs

WAIT I DIDN'T GET A CHANCE TO SCREAM INTO YOUR MOUTH

A letter to the actor who's playing me in a movie

Dear Actor,

Congratulations on landing the role of Glenn Macaulay in James Cameron's upcoming "Mississauga Boy", the adaptation of my autobiography, "One Head, Two Arms, Two Legs, Two Eyes, Two Ears, One Mouth, A Million Dreams, One Bed, One Fridge, Three Coats". I'm Glenn Macaulay, the inspiration for the Glenn Macaulay in the film. I know how hard it is to be an actor because I've dabbled in it myself, but you probably already know that because you read about it in the script. By the way, the part where I kiss Kirsten Dunst on the set of Bring it On because her mom asked me to was fabricated for entertainment purposes. Anyway, because I know what you're about to go through, I thought I'd provide some insight into my physical and mental nature to make your job a bit easier.

Don't read this the wrong way. I don't want to tell you how to do your job because I hate that, which you probably already know if you've read the part in the script where a rich man tries to tell me how to pour chlorine during my summer job at the pool store. You ever pour chlorine? It's like pumping gas except it turns everything white and it eats your clothes. Sounds like Michael Jackson to me!

By now you've probably noticed that I have a really good sense of humour. From what Jim has told me, you're not that funny but you did watch Spaceballs once with some kids you were babysitting, which is a good start. Just try farting more and concentrate on the fact that there's gas coming out of a part of your body that squares don't like talking about, and the laughs should follow. 

I made a little cheat sheet that you can glue to your thigh for easy reference while on set. Don't worry, I don't expect anything in return (another hint!), but I do believe in Karma, so you'll probably want to do something nice for me in return or else I'll use the eye melting curse my guru taught me. It doesn't literally melt your eyes but it will feel like someone poured vinegar and bourbon all up in there.

Animal I resemble -- Billy Goat

Accent I use -- Southern Ontario on the nose with just a hint of a sort of smoky, pre-1812 Western Illinois

Favourite gesture -- Bunt sign used by the third base coach of the 1987 Cincinnati Reds (touch brim, yank right earlobe, yank left earlobe, dust pants, rub right arm, honk nose, wink twice)

Favourite saying -- "Come on, give it back"

Sitting style -- Currently a feminine cross-leg with a casual hands behind head

Eating style -- Pedal to the metal

Fingernail cut -- medium daggers

Burp speed -- mach 1

Internet Browser -- Firefox

Just have fun with the role! I'll be on set the whole time to make sure you're doing it right, but I'll only give you notes when absolutely necessary, or unless you start to piss me off. Lucky for you, (and you probably already know this) I don't anger easily unless someone is portraying me incorrectly. I once punched a dog who was unsuccessfully imitating my patented dance move "The Big 'Ol Thing". 

Peace and love for all environments,

The Real Glenn

YOUR ROOM IS UP THE HALL AND DOWN THE TUB

THE SATURDAY SACK

The Saturday Sack is a grab sack full of fun and games, aimed at multiplying the fun and recreation of your weekend by at least 7.  It's meant to replace your entire Saturday newspaper and your softball game.

Joke of the day

A husband and wife are having marital problems and the wife says, "Maybe we should get a dog." Confused, the husband says, "How is that going to help, you know I hate pets." And the wife says, "You don't? I seriously didn't know that. We've been married for 5 years and I feel I still don't know who you are, it's over." And the husband goes "You never listen to me. My brother is a lawyer, did you know that? I'm taking you for everything you got" and the woman says, "Of course I know that, I've been bonking him for two years."

hahahah


ahahaha

Google Image Search Image of the Day

In this classic game, I type a string of random words into Goog and then pick the best image that comes up. Today's Search Term, "Underbelly incredible magic donkey"

Couldn't have drawn it better myself. That guy kind of looks like me. 

"Should I hold up the pined apple or simply nestle in into my lap? I'd prefer to nestle but it might make me shiver, which could ruin the portrait. Do you have any Sprite? I simply must moisten my hair."

This Weekend's Pickup Line

Male:
"Hey baby, can I stick some coins in your mouth, because I want to CHANGE your life"

Female:
"Hey hunk, breath into my face so I know what my butt will smell like tomorrow morning"

Horoscope

If you were born a man:


Put some gravy in your canteen! If you were thinking of wearing cleats to the park, I say do it. People may look at you funny, but if dogs start to run after you because they smell your gravy, you'll be happy you put them on. Also, it's time to throw out your beard trimmings. I know, I know, your wife loves nice pillows and your wife loves you so it makes sense to make her a pillow with hair filling, but trust me, just use old Kleenex, it's softer.

If you were born a woman:

Try on your man's jockstrap and if it feels okay you might as well wear it because armor is armor. The moon is circling the Phalox Meridian which means its a good day to finally release the cipher you've been working on, which will give you an excuse to throw on that new dress you stole.

If you were born a neuter:

For the big meeting, instead of wearing a tie, drape a pair of tied together shoes around your neck. It's sporty and if anyone asks you why, just say they're mittens. Finally, admit to yourself that the recurring dream about beefeater who gives you tattoos might be real and go find him. Start in Pasadena and make your way East.

Today's Recipe

Fun House Hot Bars

3 Cups Duck Milk
1 Tbsp Unsweetened Sugar
3 Pinches of Dust from an Ignored Electric Guitar Owned by a Brat
6 Handfuls of Onion Chips
10 Drops of Compound W

Mix together in a large hat, filter through your city's sewage system, retrieve, then pour into DVD drive of Intel powered PC to set. Cut into squares, serve lukewarm. 

WHEN A BAD MAN COMES TO YOUR AID IT'S CALLED HELL-P

Interesting article from last weekend's Globe and Mail: 

From the Butt to the Mouth - New Gas - Say Hello to Old Burps

Next time you trick your elderly neighbour into letting you use his garage for a naked rendezvous with the girl your mom thinks is ridiculous, only to leave an hour later, flipping a dime to the old guy and remarking "thanks for the tarp Old Fart", you should stop. Stop and think of what you're saying because the Old Burps are here, and your neighbour might be one of them.

For decades, Old Farts ruled the blood pressure chair at the pharmacy, gaining valuable arterial statistics to ensure the survival of their species. They were quiet, unassuming and distrustful of anyone who wasn't concerned that ingesting a glass of Coke could ruin their week (diarrhea, tooth dissolve, stomach melt). They weren't scared of death so much as they had a crush on it, viewing it from afar while stupidly assuming it would never like them back. But death likes us all. It's the horniest force in the world because no matter what, it always gets you in its bed that has spikes all over, and sand instead of blankets and toasters for pillows. This could've have been their first, and last mistake, because death eventually showed its huge boobs to all them, leaving the door open for a new group of potential mates. Enter the burps.

Who are the Old Burps and what are they like? If you were to pass one on the street you'd probably just smile and laugh like you usually do, but spend 10 minutes alone with one in like, a bank vault, and all of a sudden you start to realize that these aren't your parents' parents.

Like Old Farts, Burps have been given computers and mobile phones as gifts by their loving family or eccentric, persuasive, young millionaire with a taste for "vintage", but unlike their predecessors, they know how to use them. Both Rogers and Bell Mobile have released startling figures that the elderly have been texting almost as much as current nine year olds. The Canadian Freedom of Information About All Old People Because They Don't Even Know We're Doing It Act has allowed Canadian mobile service providers the opportunity to release a smattering of sample texts to give the public a better idea of who it is they ignore:

I've been drinking water my whole life, and for what?

I have one fridge for food and one fridge for garbage.

I'll be there in six days, save me a seat

I haven't been nude in 37 years

7+4=11 ahahaha just joking you're not looking at a calculator

i made a rap - I don't prefer blondes, I like an old hag, my dick's so big that my condom is a sleeping bag - hahahaha remember condoms?

i just saw the coolest ad for McDonald's

"We like to think of ourselves as smart, ugly babies," says Nina Peroni, 86, author of "Old Burps, New Ideas", generally considered the burp Manifesto. "We also adore fruit snacks."

Where this generation is headed and how long it will last is up to anyone's guess.

Dr. Mick Thick, sociologist at the University of Upper Toronto says, "Old Hags dominated the 18th century worldwide and yet the Nubby Racoons of 1925 lasted one memorable November. It's difficult, if not impossible, to predict a lifespan for elderly generations simply because they die so much."

The dawn of a new generation sends a wave across our social and cultural ocean, both the good kind of wave that surfers wiggle on, and the bad kind that Thailand can't stand. For example, Old Burps are responsible for Domino's Pizza introducing a new special pie designed for those in the upper age bracket -- a mix of cured meats served over a large Fruit Roll Up. "We had to address this booming demographic," said Domino's CEO Ed Chh.

But on the other side of town, over at the Cineplex, audiences have been complaining about the elderly singing during theatrical trailers. Nina Peroni told us this is a Burp rite of passage that started when a man in Kingston started singing after complaining that he didn't pay to see a bunch of little movies stitched together like a quilt that nobody wants. 

For the Globe and Mail, I'm Ian.

TWO FOR THE PRICE OF THE FIRST SEASON OF WKRP ON DVD

It rained yesterday and as I got into my rainy day routine, I noticed that it differed substantially from what would be classified as a "classic rainy day". We've been so busy noodlin' around on our computers that we didn't even notice this great loss. But hey, without Internet technology I wouldn't be able to properly set the tone of what you're about to read using this viral video of one the world's foremost adult entertainers:



I find tears induced by Madonna are best digested with a finger of vermouth and half a cup of your favourite tapenade.Now that the mood is set, prepare to face your innermost desires:


Modern Rainy Days vs. Classic Rainy Days

Classic

Curl up in a blanket with a good book and a cup of tea

This element essentially formed the basis of Wolfgang Petersen's, 1984's, Paramount Pictures', "The Neverending Story", which follows a young boy reading through a big book while hiding in his school's dungeon as a storm rages outside. If memory serves, he doesn't drink tea, but he did eat an apple and a sandwich because his baby mouth was too soft for any temperature above room, but it doesn't matter, what you're reading is strictly for entertainment purposes. Were to digest any of the whack truth I've been sermonizing over the past twenty-teen four years, you'd probably be King of the Bayou by now (not a desirable position to find oneself in. Two words: gator wife).

Anyway, the reason why blankets, tea and books pair so well with rain is because rain is wet and cold and all those other things are dry and cold, except for tea which is traditionally served sopping wet.

Modern

Lie down in the tanning bed with a smartphone and a whole pack of gum

We're so good at shit these days that we managed to take the power of the sun and turn it into a bed and not even in space. On rainy, cold days we love nothing more than get radiated. To obtain the perfect dark yellow tan, one needs at least an hour in the bed, so we usually bring our smartphones in with us to pass the time by calling everyone we know with the riddle, "I'm in a bed with no pillows and blankets, where am I?". What's perfectly toned skin without perfectly toned muscles? That's where the gum comes in. Celebs have been chewing and eating gum to build jaws and slim down, respectively, for years, and there's something about the pitter patter of rain drops that makes an entire blister pack of Excel go down extra smooooooth.

Classic

Make a pot of soup


Again, rain cold, soup hot. Also, making soup is an indoor activity and the only people who go outside in the rain are detectives.

Modern

Make Tacos

The soup industry took a big hit once the recipes of the fabled city of Old El Paso were uncovered in 1992 by the General Mills Corporation.

Classic

Sit in the garage and watch the storm

I used to do this with my dad and it was really relaxing, almost like watching TV.


Modern

Sit in the basement and watch blu rays

There are blu rays that just show the best rain in the world.

Classic

Give the kids a bath

Kids these days always get freaked out when they find out that water used to cost more than root beer, and that a rainy day would regularly boost the economy. Besides giving the kids a bath, housewives would also do the dishes and the laundry outside, which could get dangerous if a son was mistaken for a bowl. It wasn't until after WWII that sunny days became the weather of choice for most North Americans.


Modern

Punish the kids

Kids fuckin hate rain because their damn Gameboys don't work out there. The most common form of modern discipline is sending the kids out while it's raining. This one dad got in big time trouble for leaving his six year old out for two hours. Not only did the boy get a nasty cold, but his skin melted into little drips because of all the acid in the rain (acid rain). He's now known as "Drippy" one of Portland's top male burlesque dancers.


Classic

Go have a cry

There's a heart-wrenching scene in "Ernest Goes To Camp" where these bad kids terrorize Ernest to the point where he just can't help but cry. He then sings a song about how rain is good because it hides one's tears. Beautiful. For this reason, rainy days used to be the horniest days of the year because sad singles everywhere would try to hide their tears by going outside. They'd either run into a fellow lonely heart and bonk by the sewers, or be pursued by sly horn dogs who knew what was up. 

Modern

Go have a sweat

Just replace "cry" with "sweat" up there.

Classic

Get all cutesy and go kiss your sweetheart

This was the sexiest thing you could do back then. It could have something to do with the fact that mouths were generally drier and rain acted as a lubricant. Rich folk would smear a tablespoon of Quaker State on their lips, but the poor had to rely on precipitation and its cousin, mud.

Modern

Make a porno

Teachers used to prohibit recess on rainy days because moisture has no place in education, but nowadays they're not allowed to go out in the rain for fear the kids will have sex. 97% of all modern pornography is filmed in the rain and when you see one without rain, it's not that it's not there, it's just that they've digitally removed it.