Porocrom’s Crappaper

I want to relate a story that happened to a friend of mine (let’s call him Eduardo Sanchez). Eduardo was at the bar with a group of his friends. Some of his friends had brought other friends, things were going great and everyone was having a really good time. That’s when Eduardo noticed that one of his friend’s friends (to avoid confusion, we’ll call her Consuela del Caliente) was lookin’ pretty good. So he suavely began to make his move on the young Consuela when out of nowhere, adversity reared its horrendous visage in the form of the mythical beast known only by the name “The Ugly Friend”

Now before we are inundated by hate mail from women (who are undoubtedly the ugly friend themselves) let’s define this term. It gets bandied about and the real meaning has been lost. The so-called “Ugly Friend” is descriptive term only. It is not an evaluation of the person as a whole, nor is it merely a comment on the person’s physical appearance. The phrase ‘Ugly Friend’ described a person who is willing to initiate a heinous cock-block for petty reasons. So that we are clear, I have known many a decent-looking girl who has been the ugly friend. Let’s take a closer look…

Scenario 1: Sitting at the bar, two ladies are approached by a decent-enough looking chap.

Chap: Well hello ladies, how are you doing this fine evening?

Lady #1: We’re fine, thanks. What’s your name?

Chap: Chappy Chapperson. Can I interest you in a dance?

Lady #1: Um, sure.

Lady #2: I’m gonna sit here for a bit. I’ll be out there in a second.

Lady #1: Are you sure?

Lady #2: Yeah, I just want to finish my drink first.

Now that is a GOOD friend. She is allowing her friend to have fun, but she is still there if needed.


Scenario 2: 2 ladies at the bar, approached by skeeze.

Skeeze: Hi! Let’s take a look at what’s in your underwear!

Lady #1: Whaaaaa?

Lady #2: Come on Lady #1, I need to go to the bathroom.

Lady #1: Sorry Mr. Skeeze, but I have to go with my friend.


That too is an example of a GOOD friend. She initiates the cock-block knowing that her friend will be uninterested in such a lame-o.


Scenario 3: Ladies at the bar are approached by a decent-enough looking chap

Chap: Hello ladies, how are you?

Lady #1: We’re great thanks, how are you?

Chap: I’m just great. Can I perhaps interest you in a dance?

Lady #2: Dark Lord Satan I summon you to castrate this inferior male and fling him into the abyss of eternal chastity.

Chap: Aaaaaah!

Lady #2: Oops, what I meant to say is that my feet hurt and I want to go home.

Lady #1: Actually, I think he was asking you to dance.

Lady #2: Well in that case, let’s go!


Now what we see here is an attempt to cock-block that is not motivated by any deficiency on the part of the chap. The chap is removed entirely from the scenario. Here is what is going on inside the head of the “Ugly Friend”

Inner monologue: How come she always gets asked to dance? I mean, sure I’m a bitter evil person, but that’s not my fault, it’s the result of a society that judges people on their external appearances and their internal value rather than what I want. I am going to make sure that this guy doesn’t get anywhere with my friend so that she will remain as lonely and bitter as I am. That way, I don’t have to face up to my own problems because I won’t be alone in them. Oh wait what is this? He wants to dance with me? Ah well then, forget my friend’s happiness, I’m gonna get my swerve on.


Ladies. A cock-block done for noble reasons (the girl is excessively drunk, the guy looks shady, etc.) is a GOOD thing. However, once you have completed the cock-block, please remove both you and your friend from the scene to discuss strategy. Does your friend like this guy? Was she looking for an excuse to leave without being impolite? Once the game plan has been set, then return to the scene. Don’t just leave the poor guy wondering what he did wrong when this girl clearly was into him but he can’t do anything about it.

Guys. Recognize and appreciate the well-intentioned cock-block. If the cock-block is for the wrong reasons, you’re out of luck anyway, unless you can get her number. If you have a wingman, don’t forget that “jumping on the grenade” (dancing with the “Ugly Friend”) puts you in his eternal debt. If YOU are the “Ugly Friend” then get your bitch-ass away from a girl you’re never gonna score with and chase some tail of your own.


So how does the story of Eduardo and Consuela end? Happily, I am pleased to report. Managing to approach Consuela away from the evil clutches of her diabolical guardian, Eduardo got Consuela’s contact info. Not a great ending, but most assuredly a happy one.

Last Saturday I was sitting at my computer, doing some work, talking to some people, nothing that you could call strenuous, when suddenly my computer turned off. Puzzled by this sudden development, I attempted valiantly to turn my computer back on, but to no avail. Despite all kinds of tests and attempts to reboot, reformat, reinstall, my computer had gone from elite, sleek computating machine to expensive paperweight. I called home and asked my dad if there was anything to be done. He told me that he would come get my computer and return it to the shop from whence it came. Forthwith, he told me that the man at the shop had confirmed that it was a problem with the memory. Apparently it wasn’t compatible with my motherboard, or somesuch.

Here is the question: if these guys BUILT my computer, how could my memory be incompatible? No no no, this my friends does not (with apologies for the pun) COMPUTE. I had a week to think it over, and I think I know what really happened to my computer.

Memory, I have been told, comes in sticks, much like those you would find on a tree. These sticks are also like chips, however. Some memory is Barbecue (SD RAM) while others are Salt & Vinegar (DDR – or Dance, Dance, Revolution). These chips are fed to your computer, and they remember things for you, like where you put that file, and when your taxes are due, and the name of that girl you met at the bar (was it Leonor?).

However, instead of sticks or chips, the good people at the store (I won’t mention the name, because it would highlight their incompetence – let’s just say it rhymes with “Brampton Computes”) put in a cheese sandwich. And instead of a power supply, they put in a hamster on a wheel. When I press the power button, it opens a little slot so that the hamster tries to run towards the cheese sandwich, but ends up powering the computer instead. However, when I turned off my computer one night, apparently the hamster said “Fuck this shit”, jumped the wall and ate the cheese sandwich. It then died from eating 3 month-old, unrefrigerated cheese. The result: paperweight.

And so, dear readers, fear not. I am back and will be posting regularly.

For those of you who don’t know, I am currently enrolled at the University of Waterloo. It is a great place, usually. The people are friendly, for the most part, we have some very decent-looking girl-types, and our campus is well… okay it’s ugly. Last week I came to campus and was walking to class when I saw, drawn in large chalk lettering, the words “DO YOU AGREE WITH BYRON?” Assuming they meant the poet Lord Byron…

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies

I said “yeah sure, she’s pretty hot, whoever she is.” I later found out that this question was in reference to a more contemporary Byronic figure.

Byron is a guy from Mississauga, Ontario who, according to his bio, was living a fairly sweet life until he found Jesus, and now he is happy all the time, or something like that. The chalked-out questions, which were smeared ALL OVER the campus, were a reference to Byron’s quest to spread the message of rebirth in Christ to everyone.



I didn’t think too much of the message until I happened to run into some friends of mine discussing the issue. “If I ever met Byron, I would kick his fucking ass” said one friend. “What right does he have to force his beliefs on me?” “You’re right,” said another “What if I had put up signs that said ‘Do you agree with Hitler?’ I would be kicked out of school!” My university bubble crumbled under the weight of their senseless retorts. I had assumed that university was a place where people made rational decisions and reasoned out their opinions. Apparently I was wrong.

Many people are going to be upset that I do not share their hatred for Byron and his tasteless ad campaign. I assure you that I do not support this method of advertising. Byron’s group, Campus Crusade for Christ has taken the ground we walk on, the buildings we learn in, the very place many of us call home, and defaced it to further his own selfish goals (I will come back to this). It is the severity and focus of people’s anger that I question.

The most common complaint I’ve heard is that beliefs are being forced down other people’s throats. People, you need to realize something. Every time someone puts an ad on television, in a magazine, on the radio, in the bathrooms, on a bus, etc. they are forcing their ideas just as much as the morons from CCC. These are in fact more forceful than the chalk scribblings in question. But, as intelligent consumers, we know that just because the commercial says “Buy Tide”, you have the choice not to buy Tide. Do you want to kick the ass of the president of Tide? Unlikely. We live in a society where other people’s opinions are constantly being thrown at us (case in point, you are reading a post on a website that is 100% based on opinion). We have the choice to agree, disagree, or ignore the opinions of others.

I beg anyone who goes to UW or who finds themselves in a similar position to keep a sense of perspective. Byron isn’t going to come to your house, hold you down and baptize you. CCC isn’t kidnapping lone students and brainwashing them into going to church. Chalk drawings can’t get up off the ground and yell at you. If you don’t agree with Byron, then you have an easy answer “NO!” Then you can go on with your life.

There is another side to this though.

CCC has made the grounds of the university a billboard. They, like any mega-corporation are interested in selling their product to the general populace. The only difference between the two is that CCC is getting advertising for free. If Nike had representatives draw logos and sayings on the grounds, there would be a major law suit. Why does CCC get away with using our school-grounds as a place to hock their religious messages? From time to time we will see a club with an ad for a barbecue or other event chalked out on the sidewalks. These are University-sponsored events, and as such, subject to Feds regulations (Feds – the Federation of Students). CCC is an independent group that operates outside the auspices of the university, and as such has absolutely no right to spread their message on school grounds.

Secondly, these advertisements are intended to change people’s minds. That is the goal of advertising an opinion. The stupidity behind this campaign is mind-boggling. You’re taking a weak premise – the experience of a single person – and marketing religion (a big no-no in Canada) to a large group of educated people. The most likely response you are going to get, Byron, is people who want to kick your ass. You have taken away people’s ability to decline to hear your advertisement by placing it EVERYWHERE THEY GO. Even if people agree with your message, your methods are reprehensible. This campaign will give you the opposite effect than you intended – it will make people less likely to listen to you.

So, in conclusion: people, try to keep your heads on straight. This is not a person asking you to commit mass murder or give away your life savings or anything like that. CCC, get your shit the hell off my campus. If I ever catch one of you shitheads I am going to throw stuff at you.

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.

I found out this morning that, despite my incredibly sophisticated mechanism for disguising names, “Bandy Roudreau” and “Teth” somehow figured out that the story was about them. “Teth” or, as she is more commonly known, Alicia Silverstone, seemed okay with it. However, I am a little worried about “Bandy Roudreau”, or Sylvester Stallone. I mean, have you SEEN Rocky? He could beat the shit out of me!

Anyways, if I sudenly go missing, please be advised that I was kidnapped, raped and otherwise manhandled by mister Stallone, and that an immediate freeze of his assets and search of his home should be undertaken. Furthermore, “Chris”, or his real name Galactus, Devourer of Worlds, should not be allowed to leave the country.

Thank you