Re-Effing-Joyce! Your Deacon is Alive and Well!
|Bite me crank!|
And so...without further ado, it's incumbent upon me to begin with the usual well-loved rant:
Warm and well-considered Captainly regards to my crew of buccaneers, scallywags, brigands, hussies and dogsbodies. Your Deacon loves you.
...and to the rest of you diametrically distraught vermifuge swallowing, vile-prepuced, flu shot addicts:
...and so it all begins again...
Let me start by stating for the record that the moronic imbecile who let his cell phone ring at the Stephan Moccio concert at the Jane Mallett Theatre should be publicly flayed. And the inconsiderate idiot at The Year of Magical Thinking, who dropped his cell phone and then let it vibrate all over the floor and somehow then managed to complete the process of icing the fool-cake, by loudly slamming his keys on the hardwood floor, needs at least 30 years in the electric chair. What is it with these bastards that despite clear requests from theatre managers, they just can't shut the damn things off for 90 minutes? I have a solution though: Every theatre patron should be issued with high-power squirt guns loaded with tomcat urine. If your phone rings, we hose you down, it's that simple.
In other news, your Deacon and Deaconess will be making a rare appearance at the Gourmet Food and Wine Expo at the Metro Toronto Convention Centre, later this week. I'll be reconnecting with my homeys and writing it all up within a few days. Watch for it...
Also, send in your email questions! Your Deacon needs to hear from you, and if I get enough, I'll write up a Deacon Male Bag ASAP.
That's all for now...and as we say on Mars: