Porocrom’s Crappaper

OK. I am going to let you in on a little secret. I know it can be very hard to guess by yourself, but THERE ARE ACTUALLY TWO PEOPLE writing on this blog, Poromenos (I, the Greek dude) and Crommunist (the Canadian dude). I think we should put our names before and after each post, as well as to the top right of the page. We didn’t want to tell you that before because we didn’t know what you would think of us, but I decided to break the silence and reveal this terrible secret. Please be gentle.

I recently came upon an email entitled “the Being A Real Guy degree” or some crap like that. It was about an imaginary school where such classes as “Learn to work the toilet seat” and “Learn to share the remote” and shit like that existed. Sounds to me like “the Manwhore degree”, so I am hereupon starting to teach the Quit Being A Bitch degree. Don’t get me wrong, I love women as much as the next pervert (in fact my very mother is a woman herself), but fuck you, ladies. See where the female emancipation led us, now they have time to write crap like this between doing the dishes and the laundry.
I hate this unprovoked “Ooo, look at us, we are flowery-smelling goddesses of wisdom that have finally found their strength and we hate you, you belching, sports-watching, hairy unable-to-work-the-toilet-seat monsters. Vaginas rock”. I never said anything bad about women (not until now, anyway), and I always recognised that the sexes are different but equal (women, stop reading, men, this is just crap I tell women so they won’t hate me too much. HEY BITCH, WHY DID YOU READ THIS?).
While we’re on the subject, what is this crap about the toilet seat? Why should we put it up, do our thing and put it down again while you just sit your royal ass down and go at it? If I hear another woman telling me to put the toilet seat down after I’m finished, I’ll piss with it down and then put it up. Besides, I don’t have a problem with pissing with the seat down, you do.
While I’m typing, I might as well hit this too. I always hear women complaining how there aren’t any nice guys any more, yet they hook up with men that ignore them, abuse them, whatever. I believe, and that email only serves to reinforce that belief, that “nice guys” means “someone who has a lot of money and will do whatever I want”. Even if such men EXISTED, I doubt that you’d find them by hanging out in clubs (not to mention that you blow off almost every guy that hits on you there). That’s like me complaining about how hot models never come to my house to give me blowjobs.
The remote control. What the hell is with this shit? I never watch TV anyway, and I’d rather be dead than caught watching the crap you watch. I think you’re doing this just to bust our balls the ONE time we decide to watch something (not THE GAME, I fucking hate THE GAME, I never watch sports, unless we are EUROPEAN CHAMPIONS 2004! But I digress).
I also hate how you act like sex is a horrible chore we put you through. “Oh, not again, not sex!”. Why do you do this? Do you want people to see that you are an innocent little virgin dressed in white in a world where crazed sex-lusting beasts are out to devour you? Quit it, we know you want sex as much as we do, if not more. Why is it that it’s OK for a woman to not want to have sex, but for a man it’s “neglecting his duties”? Since when is it a duty, if women say they don’t even want it? And besides, on the “headache” issue, is it really THAT hard for you to lie there until we’re done?
Searching a bit, I have found the actual text of the email, so I am going to address a few issues. Bask in the wonderfulness that is it.
“MEN 103…PMS – Learn when to keep your mouth shut”
What the hell, sounds to me that this is advice for you. If you can’t help sounding like a cranky bitch, STOP TALKING. I don’t have to put up with you and nod patiently if you can’t control what you’re saying. I understand that it might feel bad (or maybe it’s just an excuse you make for being cranky all month long, since no man ever knows when women are PMSing), but if every word you say is the beginning of a fight, the sensible thing to do would be to not talk.
“MEN 104…We do not want sleazy underthings for Christmas”
We do not want to give things that cost more than the deficit of a small country for Christmas. It was either this or a pair of slippers.
“MEN 120…How NOT to act like an asshole when you’re wrong”
I don’t know about other men, but I’m never wrong. Not applicable.
“MEN 213…Honest – You don’t look like Russel Wong”
Who the fuck is Russel Wong? He sounds Chinese, so yeah, I don’t look like him. I look Greek.
The downside of feminism is that women not only believe they’re equal, they believe they’re better. Cut that crap. You’re going to burn the dinner.

A message to you-know-who-you-are:
I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANYTHING MORE ON THE MATTER. KATE BECKINSALE IS ONE OF THE 5 HOTTEST WOMEN ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH, AND THAT’S THAT. PERIOD.
This is not a real post. Don’t look at it.

P.S. For the other 4, look at the “In love (again)” post. The list is subject to change without previous notice.

Well folks, Thanksgiving again.

‘Thanksgiving?’ say our non-Canadian readers. ‘You must be some kind of idiot, mister Crommunist. Thanksgiving is clearly in November.’ Well folks, I am not American. If I was, my posts would be about drinking too much beer and being generally over-opinionated about everything.

Hmm… my posts are about that anyway… maybe I would just have more grammatical errors.

Anyways, it is Canadian thanksgiving, so I thought I would share the other differences between the two holidays with you all.

American Thanksgiving is a commemoration of the pilgrims’ final ultimate victory over the savage Indians that ruled the peaceful land of America with an iron fist. The pilgrims had finally crushed the evil heathens by using the cunning tactic of raping their women, destroying their religion, and infecting them with European diseases. The remaining few Indians were forced to make their new pilgrim ‘liberators’ a sumptuous meal of all their finest dishes.

The ungrateful Indians served up a bird they called “thr’qui” or in their savage tongue ‘bird that eats its own shit and is about as smart as a warm breeze’. They stuffed it with their deadliest poisons. Of course, since they had been completely conquered, the only poisons they had at their disposal were pieces of stale bread and cut-up potatoes. They placed this dish, with gravy and cranberry sauce and biscuits and tiny onions, floating in a sea of cream sauce, before their new masters, in the hope that they would gorge themselves so heavily that they would die – or at least belch so much that they would look foolish.

Unfortunately for the heathens, the pilgrims did not die after eating this sumptuous meal. They merely fell into a deep sleep and did not wake up until some time in November. The day they awoke, they proclaimed it to be a day to give thanks and to invite your in-laws over even though you really dislike them.

CANADIAN thanksgiving, although it has the same name, is actually based in a very different story.

Back in the days before they invented vacations in Florida, Canadians spent their October days hunting for the Big Beaver. This beaver was the largest, hairiest and most sought-after creature in all the forest. Many brave hunters had tried to tame the Big Beaver, but they found that their spear-shafts were always too short, and they had to retreat in shame. One day, however, an intrepid young man devised a scheme to finally claim the beaver for his own. He drove a shiny new chariot down by the river (because as everyone knows, nothing attracts beaver like a shiny new vehicle). When the beaver came out of the woods to investigate, it fell into the river.

The hunters immediately caught the wet, dripping beaver and captured it. The entire village ate beaver that night, including some of the women-folk, which made the men very excited for some reason. Even though they got some fur stuck in their teeth, everyone agreed that eating beaver was the way to go. They declared that day to be a holiday forevermore. Since there was a sudden shortage of beaver, the intrepid Canadians borrowed the American custom of turkey (to the great amusement of the Indians in Canada).

I hope that has cleared up any misconceptions about the difference between Canada’s thanksgiving and America’s.

In these times of strife – global war, famine, devastating floods and hurricanes, we often find ourselves searching for answers. How can we be virtuous when all around us are examples of greed and corruption? Some people turn to God for answers. Others seek relief from these questions at the bottom of a bottle. Still others look to wise men for advice. It is comforting to know that in these immense times of trouble, there is a voice of enlightenment in the sea of ignorance and evil.

That voice is none other than rap mega-star Young MC.



In his thought-provoking and ground-breaking song “Bust a Move”, Young (or Mister MC if you prefer) outlines several easy-to-follow social commentaries, stemming from situations that everyone can relate to. What’s more, he gives us a maxim that can be applied in all situations that will guide us through troubled times. Let’s have a look.

Okay smarty go to a party
Girls are scantily clad and showin body
A chick walks by you wish you could sex her
But you’re standing on the wall like you was Poindexter

Such simple lines, yet they contain such wisdom. Who has not been to a party and felt so out of place that you felt “like you was Poindexter”? Have not we all been in that position where the perfect person walks by and all you can think is how much you would like to ‘sex’ him/her? It is these down-to-earth and yet poignant examples that make Mr. MC such a profound thinker.

Next days function high class luncheon
Food they’re serving, you’re stone-cold munchin
Music comes on people start to dance
But then you ate so much you nearly split your pants

A short yet powerful lesson about the bounds of satiety and the importance of self-control. In the continuation of this verse, one of the girls that our main character had been eyeing invites him to dance. Luckily, he has the wherewithal to ‘bust a move’ in time and saves the day.

Some frustration first inclination
Is to become a monk and leave the situation
But every dark tunnel has a light of hope
So don’t hang yourself, with a celibate rope

A commentary on the fragility and preciousness of life? A testament to all lonely people everywhere? A hope-filled message for those who fear that nobody can ‘cure their lonely condition’? The phattest rhyme since Dr. Seuss? It is all this and more, dear reader.

Girls are fakin goodness sakin
They want the man who brings home the bacon
Got no money and you got no car
Then you got no women and there you are

Generations of well-established gender roles summed up in 4 short lines. This problem has plagued mankind since the days of the Flintstones. And yet perversely, it has been the single greatest driving force behind the improvement of our culture and species. Young understands these dichotomies and sums them up in a way that is accessible to ‘all the fellaz’.

Now this next verse I wish I could take just a snippet, but to do Mr. MC justice, I must present it in its entirety.

Your best friend Harry has a brother Larry
In five days from now he’s gonna marry
He’s hopin you can make it there if you can
Cause in the ceremony you’ll be the best man
You say neat-o, check your libido
And roll to the church in your new tuxedo
The bride walks down just to start the wedding
And there’s one more girl you won’t be getting
So you start thinkin then you start blinking
The bridesmaid looks and thinks that you’re winking
She thinks you’re kinda cute so she winks back
And now you’re feelin really firm cause the girl is stacked
Reception’s jumpin faces pumpin
You look at the girl and your heart starts thumpin
Says she wants to dance to a different groove
Now you know what to do just bust a move

If this rap fusion hasn’t brought you to tears of sheer joy, then I cannot understand you. The sheer mastery of the lyrics being what it is, coupled with the brilliant construction and depiction of the situation is enough to make even the most staunch Catholic feel ‘firm’.

So the next time you find yourself in a troubling position, remember the words of this lone genius. In all situations, no matter how complex or horrific they might be, just bust a move, and all shall be well.