Canada Day and the 4th of July

July 1st is Canada Day.  For those of you who don't live in Canada and are reading this, you might just imagine that it's like the 4th of July, but for Canadians.  And now that I've written that, I fully expect to have my Canadian citizenship taken away.

You see, Canadians don't really like having themselves compared to their southern neighbors.  I think it was best summed up on an episode of The Kids In The Hall when Dave Foley was asked if he was American, and he said something along the lines of, "I'm a Canadian.  It's like an American, but I don't carry a gun."

...just Ontario.

As Canadians, we're very quick to point out the differences between us and the U.S. of A.  Heaven forbid if someone thinks we're from 'Murica.

"We have free national healthcare for all Canadians!"
"We don't walk around with guns and shoot each other for no reason!"
"Our beer doesn't taste like crap!"
"We're polite, gosh darnit!"

Gosh darnit, some of those facts are pretty darn nice.  And combined, let's not forget that Canadian hockey teams have won more Stanley Cups than American hockey teams.  Because that's really important to us, you know.  Ask any die-hard Maple Leafs fan, and they'll tell you - if the Leafs aren't gonna win a Cup this year, then it should be another Canadian team (except Montreal, of course) because the Cup belongs to Canada.

Gosh darnit!

We're so polite that one of our Provinces tried to leave the country a few years back and we almost let them go.  Does that make Quebec the girlfriend to the rest of Canada that just hangs around to keep the family together so the kids will always have two parents?

And what about those gun laws?  We sure do love to talk about Canadian gun control.  We're not violent little shits like those Americans, no sir!  Heck, there's never a murder in Canada.  Well, not one that we talk about in great detail anyway, because we're so gosh darn polite we'd rather talk about your Aunt's Maple Syrup.  Apparently, according to her, it was a good year for maple syrup.  Well then, serve me up some pancakes!

Just for fun, here's a video I made a few years back about the difference between the U.S.A. and Canada.  I put their name first to be polite.  And really, the video is about the difference between American Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, and Canadian Kraft Dinner.

That was fun, gosh darnit.

Maybe someday I'll do a comparison of the Canadian and American versions of Smarties.

I've often wondered why Americans are so quick to shoot their guns at each other.  My only answer is that their Reese Peanut Butter Cups come in packages of two, instead of three like here in Canada.  And yet, we're quick to tell America they have an obesity problem.  I don't know about you, but if there were only two peanut butter cups in a pack, I'd be upset.  Maybe not enough to shoot someone, but then again I've never been in that situation before.  I have a tummy, and I'm not obese, but gosh darnit I want three peanut butter cups.  That's like, one per period of the game.

I miss those Canadian Heritage Minutes.  Remember those?

This guy's Canadian, yo.

"Doctor... I smell... burnt toast!!!!!"
Those were a lot of fun.  The ones I remember most vividly were the ones where we tried to claim credit for Superman and Basketball.  To be sure, Basketball was created by Canadian James Naismith and it's a great game, but the sport is so much more popular in the States and there's only one Canadian team in the NBA.  And don't get me started on how Superman stands for Truth, Justice, and the American Way.  That's a whole blog for another day.  (PS - he was only half created by a Canadian)

About fifteen years ago I saw a local band playing on Canada Day at a place called Lake Ontario Park. They were a mullet band, so of course I watched them.  For some ridiculous reason they decided to play John Mellencamp's "Pink Houses" and change the lyrics from "Ain't that America" to "Ain't that Canada."  I'm not sure where the crowd buried their bodies, but there could have been a riot there comparable to the 2011 Vancouver riots after the Stanley Cup was won by my Boston Bruins.

Yeah, I cheer for an American hockey team.  Sorry...?

But I do love living in Canada.  We're great people.  Kind, friendly, polite, apologetic, and just plain swell.  If we were potato chips, we'd probably be Sour Cream n' Onion flavored.  We're not for everybody, but those who love us REALLY love us.

I'll leave you with this fun graphic I made.
- ryan

extensively researched while enjoying a European ale.

Remembering My High School Graduation

It's that time of year, that everyone seems to be graduating from high school.  Well, everyone except for those couple kids in your class who you knew weren't going to quite make it.  It's a good thing Wal-Mart is hiring.

Anyway, I thought I'd take today to reflect upon my own high school graduation.

To put it in perspective, when I graduated high school the Ryan Fan Club had only been around for six months and had approximately seventy-five or eighty card carrying members in it.  I had really awesome long hair.  I wore jeans to my graduation ceremony.  They were red.  I had figured that since the gown would be covering my legs anyway that it didn't matter.  I might as well be me anyway.

"I hope you're not planning on pulling another stunt like that cartwheel thing you did at Awards Night," said the principal to me as I was getting my gown on.  He was referring to the cartwheel I did when I accepted some certificate for achieving an average in my grades that wouldn't ever really matter for anything ever anyway.

"Let's both be happy I'm wearing pants," I replied and went to get a rolled up piece of paper in front of my adoring fans and their families.  I didn't do the cartwheel.  I bent down to make it look like I was going to, but then pretended to tie my shoe instead.

I don't honestly remember much else about graduation.  It was really long and I think afterwards my parents took me to East Side Mario's for dinner.  There was a graduation party on a local cruise ship, with dinner and a DJ and a bunch of drunk high school kids.  I actually remember more of that than I do the graduation ceremony.  It's funny when you look back and realize what was actually important in life.

- ryan

Arnold Movies - My Five Faves

With the new Terminator flick almost upon us, I thought I'd take a moment to reflect on my five favorite Arnold Schwarzenegger movies.

5. Twins
The basics: Arnold discovers that Danny DeVito is his long-lost twin brother, and DeVito tries to help Arnold adapt to life in the US of A while searching for their even longer and lost-ier mommy.
Why I Effing Love It: Arnold sings "Yakety Yak, Don't Talk Back", hooks up with a straight up hot 80s blonde goddess, and mocks a poster of Stallone and Rambo III when walking down the street.  Sometimes I like to watch this movie back-to-I'll-be-back with Junior, because there are fewer things in this world better than hearing a pregnant Arnold shout, "I want to keep my baby."

4. Escape Plan
The basics: Arnold teams up with Stallone to help Sly break out of a prison that turns out to be on a ship in the middle of the ocean.
Why I Effing Love It: The two greatest action stars of all-time finally team up together, and even though they're both no longer in their prime, they still show us why they're the best.  Arnold clearly wasn't in as good of shape as Sly in this one, so he fits in well as the helper/informant man.  This movie was full of twists and surprizes, so check it out if you haven't yet.

3. Jingle All The Way
The basics: Arnold goes searching for a Turbo Man action figure for his son on Christmas Eve, after promising the boy that he'd get one for him.  He pals up with Sinbad, who is also looking for a Turbo Man, and they end up in the city's Holiday Parade as Turbo Man and Dementor.  Wow, I've seen this movie too many times.
Why I Effing Love It: Arnold satanically chants "dasher-dancer-prancer-vixen-comet-cupid-donner-blitzen" while running down the street; Arnold beats up a bunch of fake Santas.  Arnold gets a reindeer drunk.  Oh, and of course, "PUT THAT COOKIE DOWN! NOW!"

2. Kindergarten Cop
The basics: Arnold is a cop, you idiot, and he's looking for a bad guy in a nice neighborhood and the best way to do so is to pose as a kindergarten teacher...?
Why I Effing Love It: Arnold doesn't have a tumor.  Arnold one-punches domestic child abuse right out a broken family in broad daylight.  Arnold hooks up with the smokin' hot Penelope Anne Miller.  Arnold delivers the single greatest performance ever in the history of all-time of the line, "SHUUUUUUUTTTTT UPPPPPPPP!"  Arnold learns that boys have a penis and girls have a vagina.


1. Commando
The basics: Arnold's daughter Jenny is stolen by an old enemy, and he must come out of retirement to go on a killing spree of bad guys to save his little girl - including killing people in hotels, on the side of the highway, in the mall (pretty sure that dude dies...), and I'm 95% certain he drives a tank down the road in this one too.  A guy I know claims that Commando is essentially a parody of Arnold movies that just so happens to star Arnold.
Why I Effing Love It: The... well... the ... uh... you know, just watch the musical.

- ryan

The DC-You

Well, it looks like the New52 is finally gone.  And with good reason.  I mean, even up to issue #40 of many DC Comics titles, the covers still said, "The New 52" on them.  The New 52 started over three years ago.  That's hardly new anymore.

But I digress.

I think DC has finally started listening to a large chunk of their audience - and if you get a chance, check out Batgirl Of Burnside in TPB to see where I think it all started.  Batgirl is hip and chic, and stylistically, it's perfect for today's comic buying crowd.  Couple that with the mega-popular Harley Quinn, and DC has a new target audience.  Oh, and Commissioner Gordon as Batman?  How can that not be interesting?

DC's typical summertime event, Convergence, did away with the idea of one universe and brought back the Multiverse, which means that just about anything is possible again.  And that's great for us as fans, because we don't always necessarily need stories to fit into a specific continuity.  That was such a 90s thing.

In the wake of Convergence we're left with some truly entertaining comic books.

You should really check out the new Bizarro mini-series.  Do you remember when comics had a sense of humor to them?  Maybe not, but I do.  This new Bizarro comic sees Bizzaro and Jimmy Olsen on a road trip together.  Now that's a premise I couldn't pass up.

Need a few more laughs?  DC is also giving us a Bat-Mite mini-series and a Harley Quinn and Power Girl team up book.  Both are pretty funny.  I've gone on plenty of praise filled rants of the Harley Quinn series, so I'm happy to see that Amanda Conner and Jimmy Palmiotti are still writing this one too.

Speaking of Conner/Palmiotti, I also bought the new Starfire #1 by them and Section 8 All Star. I don't think I've been so randomly interested in new comics in a while.  And it's not like it was with The New 52, where we wanted to see what changes they'd be making to Superman and Wonder Woman and our other favorite heroes.  These are just good characters with interesting premises that aren't taking themselves overly seriously.

They're calling this new wave the DCYou, because there's something here for everyone, or so they say.  And yet, my only real gripes with all of this have to do with my two favorite characters.

Superman and Supergirl.

For starters, Supergirl is nowhere to be seen in the DCYou, and I'd wager dollars to donuts that's because of the new Supergirl TV show coming out this fall.  We'll see a Supergirl comic later to be sure.  And I hope it's as good as the show looks, because the initial twenty issues or so of the New 52's Girl of Steel was quite good.

And then there's Superman.  DC Comics just hasn't been able to get the feel of Superman right for a long time.  Sure, there are hints of brilliance here and there, but on the whole DC just tries to be too serious and real-world with Superman.  Personally, I want a Superman who occasionally breaks the fourth wall and winks at us.  I want a Lois Lane who may be the smartest reporter on the face of Planet Earth but can't seem to see past a pair of glasses (because deep down she really does know that Clark is Superman and won't admit it to herself because she loves the adventure that goes along with it).  I want to see Superman stop meteors made of Kryptonite, save Metropolis from Luthor's death ray, and still find time to get a cat out of the tree.  A few years ago there was a Shazam series called, "Billy Batson and the Magic of Shazam" which would be a great style to see Superman in.  He's Superman, he should really be for kids. 

I do think that DC Comics is taking a step in the right direction here.  It's nice to see so much attention on characters that aren't the big three.  I know I'll be watching where they go with it.

- ryan

RFC Newzinetter #6

Here it is...
RFC Newzinetter #6!
This one was a lot of fun to make for y'all!

Being a Parent Really Does Change You

They told you it would happen.  They told me too.

Being a parent will change the way you look at everything.

And sure, there's the way you look at the economy, and the neighborhood you live in, and don't get me started on worrying about public schools or the other idiot kids your child wants to be friends with.

The Lovely Wife and Grayson

Let's start with the basics.

Poop.

It wasn't that long ago that having a conversation about poop was frowned upon in my relationship.  If I ran out from the washroom to let the lovely wife know about the half-footer I unloaded in the toilet, she'd just stare at me as if to say, "Really, and somehow you think you're going to get laid tonight after telling me that?"

I can remember this one time I got in shit from her (pun not intended) because we were at her parent's place for Thanksgiving dinner and I left to go drop a deuce.  I was in the bathroom for, like, fifteen minutes, and apparently it wasn't appropriate for me to do the most basic of bodily functions while all of her aunts, uncles, and cousins were visiting.  Oops.

But here we are, happily married, with two wonderful children - and we often talk about poop.  We keep it a regular conversation.

"Did Ryleigh poop today?"
"Has Grayson pooped yet today?"
"Ooooh, the baby made a smelly poop.  He must be YOUR son."

Heaven forbid I manage to go a few days without changing a dirty diaper.  That's when I'm reminded, by the lovely wife, just how much my six-month old son really loves me, and how he's missed me while I was at work, and how he'd like nothing more than for me to wipe up the smelly poop that has somehow journeyed up to the middle of his back like settlers looking for spices in India.

Ryleigh and me.

We can be at the mall, and Ryleigh - who keep in mind is only four years old - will start a conversation by letting me know about the poop she had the day before.  And sometimes there's no more to the story.  It wasn't an adventure to get the poop out.  Nor was it a freeing experience that inspired a haiku.  Nope.  Simply, "Daddy.. and yesterday I just went poop."  Whoa, surprise ending.

And nowhere is sacred anymore.  If I let a little fart out at the dinner table by accident, I'm condemned to the likes of Hitler, Stalin, and Palpatine.  But just three feet away from me, Grayson grunts and turns his face redder than the devil himself as he fills his diaper with our new dinnertime conversation.  "Oh, somebody's having a big, stinky poop," the lovely wife will say as I shovel another round of mashed potatoes and gravy into my food-hole.  I can't say I blame the boy though, if I were allowed to shit at the dinner table I probably would too - if anything just to see what would happen.

So there you have it.  Poop.  It's what's for dinner.

- ryan

Top 11 Practical Vagina Uses

Top 11 Practical Vagina Uses
This one comes to us from RFC Newzinetter #5.

11. You can keep your bus fare safe in there.
10. Handy-dandy balloon blower-upper.
09. Cook a turkey in there for dinner.  It’ll take approximately two to three hours, tops.
08. Decoration.
07. Emergency coast guard siren.
06. Paint mixer.
05. Five-disc CD changer.
04. Shoe polisher.
03. Elvis impersonator.
02. You know how some people will lick their fingers when they’re counting money?
01. Registered P.O. Box.

And I'd Still Love You

...here's a new poem.

And I'd Still Love You
written by Ryan Fan Club

You know, you could have only nine toes on your feet
And I'd still love you
You could leave sweaty stains on my favorite seat
And I'd still love you
You could talk all day about boring politics
And I'd still love you
Or you can call all my friends a bunch of lunatics
And I'd still love you
You could pick your boogers then eat them up fast
And I'd still love you
Or if in dodgeball you might always be picked last
And I'd still love you

You see, you could smell like rotten old geezers
And I'd still love you
You might not understand a word of Julius Caesar
And I'd still love you
Maybe you'll never read an RFC Newzinetter
And I'd still love you
Or you might start sleeping in an ugly Habs sweater
And I'd try to find a way to forgive you
You could give me a pet name, like "Turdy-Face"
And I'd still love you
Or you could listen all day to Ace of Base
And I'd still love you
You might have a constant itch on your privates
And I'd still love you
Or you'd spend the whole day helping me find a rhyme for "privates"
Because you love me too.

And that's all.

Another Mother's Day

Another Mother's Day is upon us, a day in which we are supposed to dote upon the woman who gave birth to us, cooked for us, and raised us into the responsible adults we're supposed to be.  Flower shops all go in the black, restaurants have huge line ups from 8am to noon, and the producers of macaroni work double-time to keep up with the supply/demand problems from all the art that will be made by children.

My mother passed away in 2012, and not a day goes by that I don't think of her.

This isn't going to be one of those sappy, miss-my-mommy blogs.  We all know that's not my style. 

I do, however, find the humor in the odd places that I find myself thinking of my mother.  I can't go for a walk downtown without reminiscing about the donuts we'd get at Kreske's Department store or the hours on end she'd patiently wait for me while inside Cosmic Comics as I perused the 25 cent bins.

I can't hear Blind Melon's "No Rain" without thinking of mom.  I know, that's kind of odd, and given that my mother was a fairly conservative woman (this was the woman who asked my wife what a water bong was at the mall while looking at a display of them) if she'd known a bit more about Blind Melon she probably wouldn't have liked them at all.  But, my mom would watch the Coca-Cola Countdown with me Fridays on Much Music, and she thought the little girl in the bee costume was, "just really cute."  So she liked the song. This is also the same woman who thought the lyrics "Stayin' Alive" were, "ah-ah-ah-ah., staying the night, staying the night."  Beautiful.

I'm one of those guys who lets my computer screen saver shuffle through all the photos on my monitor, so sometimes when passing by I might see an old photo of mom and me on there from when I was a kid.  It can be a little odd too, considering the next photo in rotation could likely be Aerosmith, Superman, or even Lexi Belle, but I like the randomness of it all.

My mom made the best pancakes too.  Not too thick, not overly fluffy, and they were stacked in a circular motion.  They were the best.  I've tried and tried, and I just can't make them the same way.  I've gotten close, but I also don't want to crack that code because it gives me something to long for. 

I see a lot of my mom in my daughter Ryleigh.  Sometimes the faces she makes, especially when she smiles - an I mean really smiles - I can't help but see my mom there.

And now that I'm a parent myself, I understand so much more.  I understand how much more the little things must have meant to her, all the little things that growing up I took for granted - and I'm sure many of you did too.  I remember the day I cut off all my long hair, and how my first stop was to see mom and show her.  The look on her face was so excited, and at the time I thought, okay, she's happy I'm conforming to society again, but really I know she was just happy to see her little boy's face again.  Corny, right?  But if you have kids of your own you'll know what I mean.

My mom was pretty awesome.  She worked full-time as a telephone operator, made sure supper was ready by 5pm every day, kept the house and laundry clean, taught me morals and respect, and she even had a wicked rap song in the early 2000s.  My mom could do it all.

So, call your mom.  For no reason at all.  It would mean a lot to her.

- ryan

I Was A Fat Kid

I was a fat kid.

It's not something I talk about overly much, but I was a fucking fat kid.  And I was picked on a lot too.  No biggie, right?  Happens to a lot of us growing up.  Some might even say they are who they are today because of the way they were treated by their schoolyard chums.  Like the caterpillar to the butterfly.  I'm sorry, I can't help but laugh at myself as I type that last sentence.

I was a fat kid with a really short brush cut.  The other kids called me Pugsley, like the fucking fat kid from the Addams Family movie.  I distinctly remember this one time in Grade 7 that one of my friends pointed out how I actually had bigger titties than most of the girls in class.  Granted, theirs hadn't quite come in yet.  So I guess I kinda looked like your stereotypical dyke with an affinity for eating chips and drinking Pepsi.

Grade 8 Graduation.

I'm not telling this story today to garner any sympathy, or help anyone else out.  I can guarantee you that somewhere else is a boy or girl getting picked on for being fat.  And maybe it's their fault or maybe it's not.  That's not my place to say.  I'm not in charge of the world.

I have two children of my own now - two beautiful children who I encourage to be whatever they want to be.  My son Grayson, at four months old, already eats like a champ and is going to be a thick boy.  I predict a future WWF Champion in my family.  My daughter Ryleigh, only four years old recently had her first experience of not feeling like she was beautiful enough at someone else's hands.  Just hearing about it tore me apart.

I was a fat kid.  And I was also a lazy kid.  I liked reading books, drawing Superman comics, watching Star Wars, playing Super Mario Bros. 3, and trading O-Pee-Chee hockey cards.  When I did get my exercise, which was road hockey, I usually played goalie because I didn't want to run.  I was a fat, lazy, pimply kid who could down an entire 2L bottle of Pepsi while watching TGIF.  At the age of twelve I could easily knock off an entire Godfatha pizza while watching the Coca Cola Countdown on Much Music. 

That's when I decided I wanted to grow my hair long, from my early interests in rock music, but I knew I'd probably look like the singer Meat Loaf.  It was bad enough that everyone already called me Pugsley.  I had a hard enough time getting girls to like me without the other boys telling me that I'd likely do anything for love. 

Grade 9 photo

How was gym class, you ask?  Not bad.  You learn how much time you have to let your mind wander when you're always picked last.  I did some of my best daydreaming during gym class.  I even created a few super-heroes while there. 

I was fifteen when I decided enough was enough.  I was sick of people thinking my name was actually Pugsley because they didn't even know me.  I was a fat kid, and a lazy kid, and a shy kid because I didn't want to be seen by anyone.  For all anyone knew, my name really was Pugsley.  They'd hum that theme song, and ironically, I couldn't even snap my fingers to try and lighten up the mood.  So I created a very green diet.

This diet was so green that all it consisted of was Iceberg Lettuce and Lime Kool-Aid.  And that's pretty much all I ate for a few months.  I'm not proud of it, but I did lose a lot of weight in a short time.  People have large worded terms and conditions and disorders for these types of things nowadays.  I never made myself throw up; I hate vomiting more than just about anything.

Now I'm not trying to tell anyone a quick way to lose weight here, because listen to me, doing something like eating only lettuce and drinking Kool-Aid will fuck you up really good.  But you know what?  We live in a really fucked up world.  Nobody ever thinks they're good enough, no matter how truly great they are.  Fucked.  Up.

I had become friends in high school with a girl, Angie, who told me. "Ryan, nobody else can love you until you learn to love yourself."  Not sure if she got that from a Jewel song, but it's something that's always stuck with me. 

All kidding aside, this shirt was fucking awesome.

What really sucks is now, as an adult with kids of my own, I see all these stories about bullying and obesity and it's clear that the real problem is and has always been that nobody teaches their kids to fucking stand up for themselves anymore.  Yeah, I was a fat, lazy kid who got picked on a lot - but I also didn't stand up for myself when I should have.  I didn't know how.  It's one thing to be a pansy-ass and go cry in the corner until you starve yourself and then it's another to do something about it. 

Parents, please, you can teach your kids all you want about anti-bullying but you're really better off teaching your child how to stand up to those bullies and make them go away.  Sure, they'll probably get hurt a few times in the process, but it might just be worth it.  And I'm not talking about them telling a teacher, or writing a poem about their feelings - teach your kids to punch someone right between the eyes.  Hard.  Seriously.

As for me, I'm not a kid anymore.  I'm a little round in the belly, and yet I get more exercise these days than ever.  I've replaced the 2L Pepsi bottles with a few pints of Banana Bread Beer.  I can eat a whole Tata's pizza if I want to, but I like to save some for lunch the next day.  I'll change the TV channel if the Addams Family is on because it makes me emotional.  I still enjoy salad, but ninety-nine percent of the time I put something on it so it's not just lettuce.  I can't remember the last time I had green Kool-Aid, and that's fine.  I've learned to love so much about myself (hence why I have my own fan club), but there's parts of me that I don't truly believe I can ever come to terms with.

I guess some part of me will always be that fat kid.  And I bet you're the same, in your own way.
Fucked up, eh?

- ryan

Ryleigh and Grayson; my two exceptionally awesome kids.