So I arrive at work today, just kind of lounging around outside, soaking up the 9:00am air (because that’s super early for me to be at work, so I was basking in my earliness, read: greatness). What do I see? A Chinese (Asian, whatever) kid jogging!

This kid must have been about 11! JOGGING! But it doesn’t end there. About 20 seconds later, another kid jogs by, probably his little brother - must have been about 9. Now you’re thinking “Nine years old and jogging… wow”. But my friends, I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself - yet another brother runs by, who had I been a pedophile, would have made me cream… max age - 7!

I mean, I’m guessing at ages here, you never can tell with the Chinese, they could have been 40 for all I know. (I kid the Chinese! Jeez. I can make racial jokes because I have Chinese friends… that’s how it goes right?). But still, why is a 7 year old kid jogging?

I’m all for fitness, don’t mistake me for a lazy 26 year old slob. I get to the gym regularly and I play weekly sports. But I’m going to go against everything I believe in and say - do these kids not have some video games they should be mastering? I’m sure that cunt Zelda has got herself into some unescapable trouble again.

I know fitness is important, but cammon, they’re practically in diapers. Is this what our society has become? Obsessed with fitness? Is that even healthy?

Perhaps these kids just got out of a Kumon meetup and needed to stretch it out? Whatever, I’m just saying.

This commercial is EVERYWHERE! I can’t escape it! But frankly, I’m not sure I want to. Let’s discuss.

Firstly, a man covered in sweat doing anything is awesome (Mass, looking at you buddy), let alone the dance from the 80s hit motion picture - Flashdance!  Just look at the way those feet move, clearly this man is only interested in one thing, and one thing only - getting YOU into a Rondo!

The best moment of all comes at about 0:13 when he spots that guy looking at the Optima and gives it a pelvic thrashing for the ages!  Ignore the fact that the salesman looks exactly like Russell Crowe for a second… actually, highlight that fact, because with moves like that, I’ll bet this salesguy gets a lot more ass. Gentlemen, take notes.

I recently purchased a brand new car.  I will attest to the fact that VW sales people are lame by comparison; frankly, I’m really considering walking back in there and punching every last sales person in the vagina.

At 0:19 he fully dive-jumps that Sportage and gets a much needed splash of “cool down” from his secretary with whom he’s not doubt had sex with in his office on multiple occasions.

Conclusion, I’d never buy a Kia, let’s face it - if I wanted to drive a tin can, I’d be much happier in a Honda.  But this guy gets a big A+ for his efforts.  Michael Sembello would be proud.

I realize this has no social relevance, but it’s just nice to see one half of the power due that was Death From Above 1979 doing something. Obviously Jessie Keeler is finding great success with MSTRKRFT.

Yes in fact, I do realize he’s playing at some house party to probably about 20 people, but the song kicks as much ass as that wicked moustache Grainger is rockin’.

Whatever, great track (see, I wasn’t being sarcastic!) and I await Monsieur Grainger’s album with The Mountains this year.

Ah fuck it… just for shits…
Let’s Make Love and Listen to Death From Above…

As it turns out, I really like French music (as this is the second French video in a row), much to my surprise.

I think I hate Spanish people though - like the Spain kind. In fact, I might hate France-French people too… no, that’s not really true.

George Michael: I, uh .. need you to make some fake IDs for me and Maeby.
Gob: Like a passport?
George Michael: Yeah, yeah, that would be great. Oh, and, uh, preferably French. [longingly distant] I like the way they think.

This shit is like Degrassi Jr High with the right mix of Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

EPISODE I - THE PHANTOM MUSICIAN

This story takes place in a galaxy far, far away. In a little nightclub on Queen Street West - Tattoo Rock Parlor.

This first time I heard of said bar, I was very quickly informed of the psuto-celeb presence working the bar. Now if you know me (and you don’t!), you’ll know I’m probably the least star struck person on earth. In fact, when seated at a Hollywood restaurant next to one Paula Abdul after a raping of America’s taste for good music, I almost felt like Paula should be awe-struck by MY presence. Certainly I was not even mildly enamored by her fifty-something self and her 3-5 twenty-something boyfriends.

That in mind, the “celeb” (and I use quotes because this man deserves no such distinction from moi) that everyone was buzzing about… a famous Canadian actor? Alan Thicke perhaps? No…

EDWIN

You read correct my young pups, Edwin! If you’re not familiar with this pompous ass-hat, don’t be ashamed. He sang in a semi-popular (and by popular, I mean playing-in-high-school-gyms popular) band by the name of I Mother Earth in the 90s and left that half decent band to record several shitty, mellow-dramatic records under the solo moniker Edwin.

Now at the time, I think “okay, so what?”. But after arriving at Tattoo, I begin to overhear the conversations of multiple douche-rod fembots and the occasional star-struck male equivalents telling their friends in their most excited voices about this “celeb” working the bar.

So after a long night of this non-sense and about 500 vodka/soda’s later, we retire to our swanky downtown hotel and call it a night. I didn’t run into Mr Edwin, but I knew this is the start of something awful.

EPISODE II - REVENGE OF THE DICK

Fast-forward a few weeks (okay it was the very next week - very lame, I know… actually - fuck you!). We arrive at Tattoo and have the pleasure of being seated for bottles in the basement (which is far less cool than the upstairs, don’t be fooled). After a long descent down the stairs, I enter the room, look to my left… my old nemesis - EDWIN.

We make eye contact… the stare down begins… silence… then music…

“I know this song… I know this… no, couldn’t be…”

You can’t write that kind of shit!! He looks away with the smirk a bratty kid gives you when he’s got away with pissing in your Nintendo. I laugh… and laugh… and laugh…

No doubt my nemesis thinks he’s still as bad ass as he ever was. Sir Edwin probably felt THAT was his crowning moment, as he no doubt felt I was in awe of him and his former glory. In fact, the truth is… his life couldn’t be anymore pitiful. FOR SHAME EDWIN!

Unless of course, he had the dubious distinction of having penned this cheesy Canadian rock ballad…

Oh wait a second…

EDIT:

After I wrote this, before I published, I discovered that my friend Edwin has a MySpace account! (turn your speakers off right about… NOW!)

Could my life possibly get any better?

“Video of the Week” implies I might do this on regular basis. When in fact - that’s highly-unlikely, to improbable. A more aptly named title would have been “Video of Right Now”, or possibly, “Hey Check Out This Awesome Video”…

Why this is worth shakin’ your hips to?
- 80’s Logos
- Neon
- Justice

To Your Health!