REVEALED: My Gliberal Agenda


{Dear besotted fans and friends:  I know you signed up for deliciously wicked blog posts, not the Avon Lady.  I’m just excited about my new merchandise.  I’ll get over it.  And in getting over it, I promise that, in future, information about merchandise and other collectibles will be on a dedicated page. — DR}

Many of you poor stiffs have been

laboring under the delusion that my goal in having this blog is merely to regale you with my shallow, though admittedly depressingly brilliant, thoughts on life, love, how to cook with Kraft Dinner and the best way of disposing of noxious roommates (free insight: just be yourself, honey, and if that fails, there’s bound to be something by Black & Decker).

Well.  I can hardly bear to think of your reaction when I tell you the truth, though I suspect it make be something akin to:

Errp-oops

That’s like, you going all “errr, OOOPS!”

But back to me—thank you sweet JEEZUS —and a footnote on “gliberal”.  This is my portmanteau word for Gay Liberal, and what a relief that “Gayberal” didn’t make the cut. Though I’m sure you can find any number of floppy haired lads called Gayberal at Upper Canada College, named that way by their twatty Rosedale moms; and very handy, too, on those long winter evenings when boys get bored and the sports move indoors.

Well, then.

Gliberal, however, is NOT, I would like to emphasize,  a hot panini of “liberal” and “glib”. No sirree.

Liberals are not “glib”.

We just tend to be right about everything, and the sheer amount of being right, about everything, day in and day out, means that our obvious yet correct responses and solutions, for all our best intentions, just trip off our tongues a teensy bit faster than we’d like.  OK?  I won’t even start on “Smugerals”.

I like to boycott the whole issue and just say “progressive”.  Now, in Canada, that word was co-opted for years by the “Progressive Conservatives”, the actual party name of the Other Party, and indeed, when I was a lad, you could vote for the PC’s without getting all apologetic in public and, for example, pointing to yourself while going “gagagaga” to indicate that you had recently suffered irreversible brain damage.

This is because—and you youngsters might want to grab your S’mores and cocoa, bundle up under your Hudson’s Bay blankets, sign out of Pornhub and gather round my feet while I explain this bit— this is because the idea of a political party that doesn’t believe in human rights is a relatively new concept and one that obviously takes a LOT of weighing and considering to see if that’s an OK idea before you just say “fuck it, I like his hair” and vote for them.

This is why the U.S. Republicans are trying to relieve the elderly, poor and black—basically anyone who doesn’t golf—from the terrible physical demands of voting, by acts of compassion such as placing polling stations miles out of reach or just gerrymandering the whole lot of them behind barbed wire fences, because it’s just such a burden that, honestly, if you’re not white, 40-something and male, with a big-ass gym membership, not to mention a supply of beef jerky to keep your protein levels up, you’re probably not going to survive an election.  Seriously.

Anyway, now that the Canadian Conservatives have wisely dropped the “Progressive”, you could still think of them as progressive, you just have to remember that they’ve all got their heads screwed on backwards, so although they actually THINK they’re still looking forward, you get the idea.  That’s an important point.

Alrighty, then.

Now I’m finally going to come clean and tell you my secret Gliberal agenda.  It is NOTHING LESS THAN world domination via excruciatingly refined and esoteric merchandise—merchandise as liberally encrusted with my signature dry wit as is with lichen the vast Canadian shield.  Yes, friends.  THAT has been the aim all along.

Bear with me while I emit a single, well-placed bark of evil laughter, punctuated by a judicious stab on the Hammond organ.

I know, princess.  I know.  But daddy’s here.

Whatever, and can I just say, seriously.  If you haven’t visited my sister brand Snatsch’nFoofer  yet—what is wrong with you?  Afraid you’ll break a nail?

I’m adding T-shirts by the second, and I know one of them is bound to tickle your fancy. And while your fancy is being tickled, my Secure Socket Layers, Ultimo-kryptothon-enabled e-commerce back-end—I always get a little thrill down my spine when I write that—will be all laid out, face-down, passive and kinda blotchy with red, if I’m honest, waiting to receive your studly, credit-cardly input.

Don’t be surprised if it bites the pillow.

Coming soon:  “Seventh Chakra”

Subtlety, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind as sixties’ psychedelic meets twenty-first century cynicism in this eye-popping collection of unisex tanks.

chakra-yellow

The next time you’re confronted with Aunt Zelda’s macramé wall hanging or luxuriant armpit hair, just exclaim,

“Well, kick me hard in my seventh chakra!” 

As a bonus, the illegibly distorted font makes for a great conversation starter.  As in, “WTF does your tank top say?!”

 Coming soon to my store.
Advertisements

Make a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s