It's Here!

In an event that would have stunned the popular media, had any of them bothered to cover it, the "Mr Bison's Day" iGoogle theme was today added by Google to their Themes Directory. This means that anyone with a Google or iGoogle account can easily make this their homepage theme by going to the link below.

Mr Bison's Day

I previewed this theme a few days ago in another post so you can see what it looks like. And yes, it was done for me by ZF, my friendly neighborhood tame web designer. (You didn't seriously believe I could do this myself did you?) So now you too can wake up to Mr Bison every day. And who wouldn't want that...?

Big Knickers

One of the joys of your kids getting older is that they cross a threshhold where instead of them embarrassing you, you can now embarrass them. And enjoy it. Mrs.Bison was being dragged round a shop by Bison Daughter, who has discovered clothes, but was stopped in her tracks by the arrestingly large underwear on display. She picked up a large pair and insisted on holding them up to herself and inquiring, in a loud voice, how big your arse would have to be for you to need such huge knickers. Bison Daughter was dismayed. In addition to "clothes" she has now discovered "shame".

The answer to Mrs.Bison's rhetorical question was to be found in the supermarket later today, when she observed someone pushing round a shopping cart filled to the brim with all the unhealthy, fatty, processed foods under the sun. It's no accident that this individual was a fat bastard - there was almost no decent food in their cart. The sole exception was a single bunch of grapes, the presence of which didn't seem to make sense unless they were bought in anticipation of an upcoming hospital stay for gastric bypass surgery. Do fat people take grapes to each other in hospital, or do they prefer donuts?

Lovely Melons

One of the few fun parts about getting delayed in airports is the interesting people you meet. I got stuck traveling to Philly the other night, along with seven other people, waiting for the last flight out of this particular God-forsaken hole of a terminal, and I ended up talking with a blonde woman. She recognized my accent as English, and told me that although her surname was Balzano, she was half-English and that half of her family was called Dickerson. I said she was lucky her parents hadn't done the double barreled surname thing, or else she'd be Miss Dickerson-Balzano, which you just know would be shortened to Dick'n'Balls. Now that's how you find out if your new acquaintance has a sense of humor or not.

Turns out that this particular acquaintance, although she had a real job, was about to get into the watermelon farming business. At least that's what she told me. My flight was an hour long and she ended up seated across the aisle from me; I swear I could have filled that whole hour with melon jokes. Instead, since we were taking off in the snow, I went for Glenn Miller plane crash humor. And then melon jokes. When we got to Philly I waited forever in the bitter arse-freezing cold for the hotel shuttle bus, and I couldn't help thinking that it's not just melons that shrivel up in the cold. I went to sleep with visions of warm melons dancing in my head.


Copyright © 2008 Edward Bison

A Gift From Jaggy

Thanks to Jaggy for this stand-up comedy video clip that's about the funniest thing I've ever seen. Fuck me, I laughed. I guess that tells you everything you need to know about my sense of humor...

Fix It

You have to love the internet - I don't know how we got stuff done before. You may remember how my Snowfucker 5000 snowthrower choked on a stupid free paper under the snow and died a week ago. Back in the good old days I suppose your options were limited to taking it into a mechanic to service (which would have cost you about as much as buying a new machine) or just pulling it apart on the kitchen floor (inevitably resulting in losing and breaking even more parts so that the whole thing would sit disassembled in a corner for about eight years until being thrown out).

Now through the wonders of the internet you can avail yourself of a simple three-step repair process for domestic appliances:

Step 1: Search suitable phrases to find out what's probably wrong with your machine. You can bet that a dozen people have documented the same symptoms, along with what they did about it. Doing this right means you only have to dismember the part of the machine that actually needs attention. (It's amazing how much time this saves.) Having decided what your problem is you can move onto...

Step 2: Find the diagram and parts list. Of course you don't have the instructions any more - you're only human. But you'll easily find a PDF with a handy exploded parts diagram so you can order the part you need and read how to fit it.

Step 3: Order the part. This is where eBay really comes into its own. I ordered a new auger v-belt through a merchant on eBay and two days later it was on my doorstep. No problems.

This only leaves the actual fixing part, which is where the internet steps back and says "You're on your own now, sunshine". You still have to deal with bolts that are rusted solid or seized up, bolt heads that are rounded off, pieces that don't seem to fit or which break when you try and move them, and the occasional small selection of leftover bits, the exact critical function of which only becomes apparent later. In this case, however, there were no problems and the Snowfucker 5000 is back in business. Outside it's 60F and sunny, with absolutely no prospect of snow, but apart from that everything's good...


Copyright © 2008 Edward Bison

Friday Bra Moment

I was driving past some shops this afternoon when I noticed a sign on one that said "Free Bra Fittings". It got my attention so I went in. Turns out they were looking for people to receive them, not perform them. Really spoilt my fucking day, I can tell you.

(No, of course I didn't really go in and ask. What do you take me for?)

Sign Of The Times

So what valuable lessons has Bison Daughter been getting at school today? Internet safety, apparently. It turns out that the school has been giving them weekly lessons on how to be safe on the internet, stuff like not giving out personal information and not going on MySpace and Facebook. (Thanks a lot for introducing her to those sites, fucking school, you might as well introduce a grown man to strip joints and beer, and then expect him to stay away.)

Problem number one is that I expect a school to teach useful stuff, like maths and foreign languages. Instead they get internet safety, black history month and other such bollocks. This is when they're not having class parties and stuffing themselves full of sugar. What's even funnier though is that they teach internet safety but not road safety. Suburban American kids have no fucking idea how to cross a road. If the school buses don't stop traffic in both directions they'll frequently wander out and get run over. I've seen deer with better odds of making it to the other side of the street.

The very definition of irony is an elementary school kid learning how to stay safe from internet predators and then getting squashed flat crossing the road on the way home. Sure, parents could teach their kids how to cross the road, instead of relying on the school, but they could equally well teach them how not to hook up with on-line pedos, so I fail to see the need for this on the curriculum. I've heard they don't bother to teach it in the Catholic schools, which may reflect higher educational standards, or just a realization that there's probably a bigger risk of your kid getting buggered by a priest after class...


Copyright ©2008 Edward Bison

Not So Free Paper

Eight inches of snow fell here on Friday morning and was laying there on my drive to welcome me home from Europe last night. So this morning I fired up the Snowfucker 5000 with the intention of quickly clearing my drive and possibly, for the first time in recorded history, the path to my front door. Now fitted with a new shear bolt the auger turned perfectly, allowing me to clear about two thirds of the drive in no time at all. But then, with a loud clang, something went wrong and the auger stopped turning. Suddenly no snow was being thrown.

Turns out that one of those fucking free newspapers that lazy wankers in cars throw out onto my driveway was lying under the snow and got dragged into the auger. As if I need their fucking shit paper - it just goes straight in the trash anyway but now it damaged my snowthrower and I fully intend to make the fuckers pay for it.

I could have just taken to to a repair shop and sent them the bill, but man-pride dictated that I try and fix it myself, so I pulled it apart and found the auger drive belt in two pieces. Yea verily it shall be repaired by mine own hand and my manhood thus displayed unto my spouse, so that she shall know that I am worthy. And then I'm going to lie in wait for the twat who delivers the free paper and stick one of them up his arse. He'll be pulling coupons out of his ringpiece for a month...


Copyright © 2008 Edward Bison