Who the fuck cares, but with spring on the way lets check in on some of those kooky characters we all know and love and see where their dome’s are at:
Bo-pie: Ran into him the other stay, he stinks like reefer.
Apple Jam: When he’s not making backroom deals with his boiler room pals, he’s downing backroom beers with his yacht pals.
Chames: Turned his back on the peg for the T-Zero, no word on if he’s coming back, or if we’ll have him back.
Van Breezy: Cornering the market on chicks with sweet eyebrows.
MC Loud: Stressing about if he’s going to be down the Saturday of May long.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Friday, January 14, 2011
Confessions Of A Wind Sponge by Jackson Parks Updike
Season 1 Episode 1
"Buy Rocks, Get Beaches"
This is Jackson Parks Updike II, writing from the best city on Earth, Toronto Ontario. I've applied for membership in the Elk Aida Windsurfering Fraternity. As a condition of my application, I've been asked by the council to express my views on Elk Aida related issues, on this website. Ben Peterson, James Thomas, Baron Shoot, Roger Ritzema and Ryan Van Berkelle are so cool that they've blessed me with this forum to explain and elucidate the finer points of my candidacy.
See, dear reader, I am a wind sponge. Although interested in boat shoes, hip shades and fresh babes, I have always found windsurfering unduly challenging, and sailing a bit gay. In an effort to bolster their social network and party scenery, the wind heads of Elk Aida have been forced to consider Wind Sponges for gang membership. In the words of Ben Peterson "Wind Sponges are herbs that do not shred." I say, Wind Sponges soak it up to turn calm nights off into full on blow-outs.
Although my chief use for water is to freeze for inclusion in breakfast ceasars, I intend to use this column to highlight the events, legends, personalities, passtimes, libations, tunes and togs that are pertinent to the interests of the wind and lake community.
For my virgin installment, I'd like to delve into the proposed plan to build a retaining wall and storm fighting battlement along Alexander and King Edward beaches. Sources in Winnipeg indicate that this plan has been shouted down as "petty secrecy" and "Bourgeois beachicide" as well as numerous other clusters of epithets that are not fit to print here, or in the pages of Uninformed Rage Quarterly (for which I also write a column called "Just Be Mad.")
If I may throw my straw boater into the proverbial ring, I think that the beaches would benefit from the construction of a large opulent boardwalk in place of the current beach. After all, it would provide a spot for social activity, mimosa stands and a mental as well as physical high ground to keep the algae off our vintage topsiders. Imagine, we could sun ourselves without sand in our shoes, on our legs or in our pomade. Sand has long been a pesky obstacle to beach optimization for us gentlemen of leisure. Give the beach back to those who epitomize the expression "Life's a beach." We will put our life vibe down hard into the land and before long your undrinkable barf spark lake water will flow out of the tap as dry goose martinis. Extend a blue cheese stuffed olive branch to those of us willing to watch workers labour for our love of all things leisurely. Like for instance, emailing from the iphone, at sunset, from a chez lounge, negroni at our side and Gaucho on the boombox.
To the opponents of the proposed wall, I say this: chill out. Go hit the yellow ball, take a bike ride, take a long jump off a long pier and get your crib game tight. This kind of relaxation is for the bosses. You can whine and scream and bark at those that are trying to work out a solution to the fact that the lake hates us, but read the signs:
No dogs on the beach.
So take you barking south down highway 59, I hear you can get a tan at Fun Mountain (not as fun as it sounds).
Accusations of bourgeois malfeasance are unfounded and unproductive. This mass of water is trying to take our fun away, and I say we try turn a turd of nature into a man made valhalla of summertime social congress and personal intercourse.
To the dudes trying to get the plan right. You've nailed it. Stop and salute yourselves. No need to tinker or consult the "science" community. As I understand, the worst case scenario is we lose a few beaches. You see dark cloud, I see a Patron silver lining. A lack of beach gets girls on boats and provides us with power playing and networking opportunities unforseen since the prohibition of the Adult Dances. But that's an issue for another day.
Build walls and return my calls. An evil lake, crooked hydro cartel and crazed citizenry cannot and will not stop the fun. The worst case: we win. The best case: a case of Standards. Keep your standards high Elk Aida. Cheers to open minds and new membership. It's us Vs the lake and we are winning.
There's a party going on,
All them girls, they welcome...
(I'm off) to the yacht club.
Yours in fancy dudicalism and infinite jest,