A Cat Lady's Revenge On the Traditional Family Christmas Letter


Holiday greetings from Holy-Sh*t-the-Weather-Sucks, Alberta.

The past year held so many joyous achievements for the Manifesto family. Please grab a pen to make notes while I recite them in detail.

Sophie-Bear was inducted into the Cutest Kitty to Ever Exist Hall of Fame and was formally recognized as 'the perfection that hails from the gold-dusted flatulence of the highest ranking archangel.' There are now plans underway to erect a statue of her in Cairo, Egypt, the ancient home of ultimate cat worship, that is to be the size of a Clydesdale horse and coated in 10K gold.

In addition to Sophie's achievements, our household busied with the buzz of Snorticus Maximus, who attracted the attention of Internet Entertainment Cat Agencies from around the world. Ultimately we decided it was best for Snort to leave cat-stardom for the next inexplicably perfect, feline specimen, if by some chance a cat of her magnitude should ever exist again.

As expected, Snort was disappointed, but she has come to understand that it is I, her mother, who made the true sacrifice to remain working in a fluorescent lit, cubicle jail to protect her from being pimped like a cat-child, show-biz whore, thus robbing her of her kittyhood and potentially molding her into a waste-of-fur asshole. Thankfully she is a cat and will never scream the words "f*ck you, you wrecked my life!" like your children will when they reach the age of thirteen.

Sophie also has a new love interest, a reputable long haired stud named Colonel Meow, AKA Sasquatch Cat, whom she met through Snort's exposure to 'the industry.' There was discussion of Sophie appearing with Squatch in Grumpy Cat's upcoming Christmas special titled, It's Beginning to Look A lot Like . . . F*ck This, but Squatch was recently busted with a couple ounces of cat-nip and has since been pulled from the documentary. We will continue to fight for kitty rights and raise awareness of the medicinal benefits of cat-nip.

2013 was a true blessing to our family and we hope you're loving life as much as we are in our first world bubble of cat-fur-covered perfection. Now it's time to crack a beer, openly use the c-word without having the word recycled in front of a third grade teacher, and sleep in as late as I want.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

The Manifesto Family



Attempting to Demystify the Voodoo Sex Magic of Chino Moreno of Deftones - and Failing

It's rare I meet a man who makes me do a double take based on esthetic attractiveness alone. Culligan Man, the dude who delivers our water at work, is an exception, and his prettiness is so potent his mere presence can be bowel-churning, his sparkling eyes blinding beneath the stark fluorescent lights, as if he's some glitch in the Matrix's programming. Despite Culligan Man's jarring good looks, I'm not attracted to him. At all. And yet I still noticed an awkward energy when he walks into a room, as if he's silently begging those he meets not to objectify him as a hot piece of ass, as if he's trying to convince the world that he, too, rips man-farts that can clear a room.

I conceptualize social constructs of esthetic attractiveness and the ogling of those constructs (e.g., so n' so has nice tits, therefore she's hot) as quite different from sex appeal. On the other hand, sex appeal (or human attraction in general) seems to be a personal phenomenon that is not easily defined. Then there are those human anomalies who throw the "personal" angle of sex appeal out the window, who, despite not mirroring society's strict, robot-like standards of beauty, possess such magnetism that they garner widespread swooning, as if they wear the residue of some sort of Voodoo, sex magic.

And so I introduce to you Chino Moreno, lead vocalist of Deftones, one of the few high profile bands that came into fruition in the 90s and haven't sold out to the dumbed down standards of the mainstream.

Over the years Deftones have progressed from an easy-listening metal band to a band that creates complex and experimental music, yet manages to hone a distinct sound that I refer to as I should be high or having sex right now music.

Back-in-the-day Chino reflected a young, dark featured image of what Western society deems attractive, and therefore his swoony persona was a given. But over the decades Deftones fans have watched Chino physically morph as he matures and it hasn't seemed to diminish his sex aura. I once read a conversation online that played out as follows:  

"Chino has gotten fat."

"Your mom would still do him."

"Yes, she would."

Chino is not a genetic fluke like Clooney or Pitt. Period. And so I wondered . . . what is it about Chino Moreno?

I decided to conduct my own observational research and concluded the best place to collect data of people's most uncensored and Neanderthal-like reactions to Chino Moreno was to scour the comments on youtube.

The comment feed for this now old-school, acoustic version of "Be Quiet and Drive" was ripe with lust. One dude commented that Chino gave him, and I quote, "man-chills," and a girl called out Chino in grammatically incorrect, youtube blabber stating, "Chino . . . I hate that you ruined every guy in my eyes," which in proper English can be translated to, "Chino . . . I hate how no other guy can live up to your superior sex magic."

Other videos were littered with comments like . . .

"Seriously. . . . meeeooowww. LOVE."

"Sextones <3."

And in what I can only assume to be a fit of frenzied lust, Athena wrote, "Oh, Chino, so sexy . . . gosh."

But it didn't stop at the women. One dude wrote, "dear reincarnation, may I request to come back as Chino in my next life please, for he is the coolest man on earth. More common were the dudes who openly discussed their raging boners after watching a Deftones video. The following specimens were typical, status quo comments:

"I'm so horny right now."


"If sex were music, this would be it."

"I have a boner."

The video below for the song "Sextape" is one of my favorite music videos. Its dreamscape images are what I saw in my mind's eye when I laid in my bedroom at seventeen listening to their White Pony album.

Chino nor any of the other band members are in the video, however, this does not damper the lust buzz of the video's comment feed. One dude comments, "Chino makes me question my straightness," and another dude expresses his gratefulness for the creation of the song because it is "like unicorn tears."

I love unicorns. Those who personally know me can attest that I often make reference to a magical, imaginary land called Unicornia, and at one point I had a unicorn figurine I named, quite fittingly in this circumstance, Boner. But the "unicorn tears" comment threw me off. Had I fallen into an internet vortex? Had I accidentally slipped into the virtual backdoor of a Bronies forum?

No. It seemed I was still in a comment feed for Deftones. Not Gaga, or Lauper, or Ke$ha, or some Japanese act, or some band featured on the soundtrack of a 1980s fantasy movie - no, no. I was in a comment feed for this band:

Suddenly everything I understood about the world - all the little boxes I had created in my mind - were lit on fire then doused in, you guessed it, unicorn tears. But one conclusion I did make was when it comes to the hard rock sub-culture of my generation, Chino's sex magic may be on par with Morrissey's. Or close to it. Or at least has the potential to be close to it. And that's impressive.

Did I make any solid conclusions as to the ingredients of Chino's unique brew of sex magic? Not really. But I did narrow down one common quality that seems to infiltrate his appeal: Juxtaposition. And by juxtaposition I mean his persona's convergence of humility and cool confidence, tenderness and testicular fortitude, a visual style that crossbreeds classic and street. But hands down his most sex magical tension is his vocal style that ranges from post love-making lullabies, to hardcore, soul explosive belly wails.

While I may have failed at successfully demystifying Chino's appeal, I have done a public service for the guys out there who are stuck in the friend zone - Chino is your man. No, not the man to name your body pillow after, but a mysteriously magnetic man-specimen to take notes on. Apparently he's worth the study.


I Got ta Get My Props, Cops, Come and Try to Snatch My Crops: Bank Account Confiscation, from Cyprus to Canada

When news broke last March about Cyprus, my mind immediately went to this . . .

Which wasn't completely out of left field. While news reports may not have been referring to the weed worshipping, Cuban-American/ Latino hip hop group, what they were referring to was an island country in the Eastern Mediterranean Sea called Cyprus, a bankruptcy-bound, eurozone nation who had joined the ever-growing Banking Crisis Club; shit in Cyprus had, indeed, gone "loco". But the truly say what? angle to the story of Cyprus is a methodology used to save Cyprus' banks: siphoning people's bank accounts.

While I knew bank account drains n' freezes were a real possibility, especially considering our dependency on the could-collapse-society-at-the-touch-of-a-button, technological banking system, I maintained a sense of experiential distance from the Cypriot people based on my belief that Canadians remained far removed from a kick in the balls of that severity, even under the regime of Emperor Harper. And as I wrapped my toque swaddled head around the notion of Cypriots being held responsible for the financial flubbers of their governments and banks - the top dog, douche bags, really - I parked my ski-doo, smoked a rock with Toronto mayor, Rob Ford, and had a moment of silence for the people of Cyprus while the intergalactic, nerd-sexy intro to Rush's Tom Sawyer hummed from a nearby igloo.

But the illusionary, beaver pelt shroud I hid behind in the name of (what once appeared to be) true Canadian democracy became ravaged by the unromantic, Canadian wind chill when reports hit that Emperor Harper's regime has proposed a similar "bail in" in the new Canadian budget.

On page 145 of Emperor Harper's Economic Action Plan 2013, it states should any "systemically important banks" fail, these banks will be resolved "without the use of taxpayer funds." Instead, "the Government proposes to implement a 'bail-in' regime for systemically important banks." And, "this regime will be designed to ensure that, in the unlikely event that a systemically important bank depletes its capital, the bank can be recapitalized and returned to viability through the very rapid conversion of certain bank liabilities into regulatory capital."

Certain bank liabilities = bank deposits

To further break that down, if a bank shits the bed, the Harper Government has set the stage to steal money from the accounts of Canadians and give it to said bank in order to keep it in business. And with the situation in Cyprus acting as an example of how ball breaking this kick in the bean bag could be, it is reported that some Cypriots with deposits over 100,000 euros could have lost as much as 80 percent of those deposits. For a more in depth breakdown, read, Cyprus-style "Bail-ins" are Proposed in the New 2013 Canadian Budget.

(Add on: It was brought to my attention I should mention that some deposits in Canadian banks are covered by the CDIC [Canadian Deposit Insurance Corp] for up to $100,000. They had a similar program in Cyprus, and I've been told that despite having such a program, they did consider torquing the douche-dom and confiscating amounts that were under the limit and supposedly insured. Ultimately they only confiscated hefty portions of accounts over $100,000 as to not completely shit on people's remaining confidence in the banking system. Needless to say, it's a toss up whether the Harper Government would actually honor said insurance program.)

It's expected that the implementation of "bail-ins" will gradually become a normalized, bank-salvaging phenomenon, thus reflecting the mounting severity in which the 1% rapes and pillages the 99. Pardon me for jumping from Cyprus Hill to Sublime, but this is very Robbin' the Hood.


Resources to better understand our inherently doomed, global monetary system:

+ Part II of the Zeitgeist trilogy, Zeitgeist: Addendum (documentary movie)

+ The Banking System Cartoon (for the ADHD'ers looking for a non-committal nose dive)

+ More Canadian specific, here is a 12 year old breaking down the corrupt Canadian banking system

Additional (off-topic, but related) news stories:

+ RBC Replaces Canadian Staff with Foreign Workers (worthy reality check to make note of: the CEO of RBC took home 12.6 million last year)

+ Senate Scandal may be Harper's Worst Hour - Oh look, douche bag, Canadian politicians sponging off the backs of taxpayers so they can personally live like motherfucking Chad Kroeger-- naturally.



Manhunt Friday: Media Ball Dropping, Government Opacity, and the Mysterious Tsarnaev Brothers

April 19, 2013 (Manhunt Friday)

The media buzzed as if it were on a three day meth binge. The story was as follows: the bombing suspects, now identified as brothers Tamerlan Tsarnaev and Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, had shot and killed a MIT campus police officer before battling it out Call of Duty style in a suburban street of Watertown.

This is my "eye witness" rendition of the early morning events as reported by media and officials, which continues to be regurgitated, spliced, and contradicted like a patch work quilt sewn by a fleet of meth heads:

  • The brothers killed a MIT police officer.
  • The suspects car jacked some guy for his Mercedes car. No, SUV. No, car. No, SUV. No, car. At some point they transported their arsenal of weapons from one vehicle to another.
  • They held the guy hostage. No, they didn't hold him hostage.
  • The brothers conversed with the carjackee: "Hear about the Boston bombings? NEENER-NEENER-NEENER - we ARE the Boston bombers," they lamented with a chortle before giving each other high-five.

  • They stole the guy's ATM card.
  • No, they did hold him hostage, but he escaped when they went into a convenient store with his ATM card to get Doritos and Red Bull. I repeat, Doritos and Red Bull. No, they left the convenient store empty handed.
  • The suspects robbed the convenient store. No, that's not right. The convenient store had been robbed by other people the same time the suspects were there. No, there was no convenient store robbery.
  • Law enforcement tracked down the Mercedes via the owner's cell phone, which he had left in the vehicle, and the suspects and law enforcement shared 100s of rounds of ammunition in the street.
  • Suspects threw a grenade. Suspects threw a pressure cooker bomb full of metal shrapnel 20 yards. It detonated. It didn't detonate. No, it did detonate and it shook houses. Suspects threw pipe bombs. Suspects unleashed pet Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Sorry, I couldn't help myself.

  • The suspects stole a police SUV. No, the suspects didn't steal a police SUV.
  • A guy (identification unknown - might have been Tamerlan) is photographed spread eagle at gun point but is never acknowledged by big media-- probably some dude taking his dog for a walk at 3 AM in a suburban bullet storm.
  • Tamerlan was stripped naked, cuffed, and put in a police car (witnessed, documented, and the suspect's Aunt confirms 100% that it was her nephew).

  • Tamerlan had a bomb strapped to his chest - no bomb squad, or any sort of bomb intervention was necessary--phhfftt, it was all good.
  • Tamerlan was never arrested and was shot dead. Tamerlan was also run over by his brother.
  • Younger brother, Dzhokhar, rammed vehicle through law enforcement - yep, must have been a SUV.
  • No, Tamerlan was never run over. An eye witness says police ran over Tamerlan.
  • No, Tamerlan is alive. Tamerlan is dead.
  • Image of mangled corpse laying on table surfaces online - allegedly Tamerlan. Consensus grows that Tamerlan is dead.
  • What about the arrest photo of the naked guy?
  • Fuck it, lets just go with the dead guy thing - the Feds would have killed him after arrest, anyway.
  • Dzhokhar somehow fled and alluded an army of cops in suburbia because he's mother fucking Jason Bourne, and Boston was put on lock down.

The Feds and the Battle Suits moved in, sweeping the area, and doing door-to-door, household checks.

It would later be reported that the Battle Suits shoved guns in peoples faces, went through people's belongings, and confiscated some firearms and drugs. Upsetting? Yes. Getting used to living in a police-state will require an adjustment period. But still not as upsetting as this Fed unnecessarily bruising his vagina:

  • CNN reported that the Battle Suits were prepping for a controlled explosion in a house to ensure the safety of law enforcement - is that protocol? Blow shit up to see if shit will blow up? Oops, I forgot, don't ask questions.
  • No, forget the controlled explosion. What controlled explosion?
  • CNN reported that law enforcement was using tear gas. Tear gas? What tear gas?

Live media reporting fell into a lull.

Media had done an okay job demonizing the now decidedly deceased older brother, Tamerlan as swaying towards Islamic radicalism and "not having many American friends." The brothers' Uncle, an oil executive who is now reported to have been on the CIA's payroll, and seems to be involved in a slew of shady activity, was quick to shit-talk his nephews, particularly Tamerlan, stating he was a "loser," consequently giving the media some solid material to beat off to. But attention had gravitated towards little brother as the man hunt continued, and media began devising a character sketch of Dzhokhar Tsarnaev. Fuck it. I'm going to refer to him as Dzhokhar Bourne from here on.

According to friends, peers, professors, etc., Dzhokhar Bourne was: friendly, nice, funny, liked wrestling, worked as a life guard, easy going, had a lot of friends from diverse ethnicities, was well liked, was well assimilated into American culture, was studying medicine, enjoyed socializing and attending parties. No one who knew him could wrap their head around his supposed ninja-terrorist alter-identity. It was almost as if the CIA had done a shitty job of choosing a patsy.

The media got in touch with the brothers' Aunt and she cried "set up." The media got in touch with the father and mother of the brothers, and they, too, cried "set up." Then their mom spilled the beans that the FBI had been harassing Tamerlan for years, and had not only had past contacts with her, as well, but had also contacted Tamerlan after the bombing. The FBI later verified that yes, Tamerlan had been on their watch list and they had engaged with him. Later on, evidence mounts that the brothers may have been 'FBI assets', although by the time I publish this, I'm sure there will be a dozen new, mind numbing rabbit holes to contradict this information.

So the FBI released photos of their suspects and requested the public's help in identifying them (thus tipping the suspects off and enabling them to hide, flee, or prep for violence), when they were already known to them and flagged on their radar. Low-level police investigations don't roll this way, let alone intelligence-out-the-wazoo, FBI watch operations.

The lull continued and the lockdown was lifted. Shortly after, a neighborhood resident noticed part of his boat's tarp had become unhinged, and when he looked inside the boat he saw a figure. A helicopter rockin' infrared imaging confirmed that a warm body was, indeed, laying in the boat.

Apparently utilization of the infrared imaging during the 12 hours prior, when Battle Suits were rummaging through people's houses, was outside of their budget.

Before those details were released, CNN reported:

  • Hearing gun shots and seeing hoards of law enforcement personnel rushing towards Franklin Street.
  • Dzhokhar Bourne was cornered.
  • Time passed. The sun set. Eventually they had him. Bostonian onlookers cheered. Yes, we're safe now! All hail the State!

When Manhunt Friday 2013 came to an end, Dzhokhar Bourne was hospitalized and shackled. There was talk he may be designated 'enemy combatant' status', but instead he was ultimately charged with 'weapon of mass destruction conspiracy', and was read his Miranda rights.

I was floored they took Dhokhar Bourne alive, but not so floored when they reported he couldn't talk due to his injuries. The dodgy opaqueness of the information offered from American officials (and their media puppets) amplified with reports surrounding his capture and current state of being.

  • Dzhokhar Bourne had been shot in the head, neck, leg, and hand - some injuries had been acquired during early morning shoot out 12 hours earlier, and he had lost a lot of blood.
  • He had not acquired his injuries during the early morning shoot out with police.
  • The injury he acquired to his neck was the result of a botched suicide attempt.
  • Dzhokhar Bourne had engaged in further gun fire with law the Battle Suits from inside the boat.
  • No weapon was found in the boat - Dzhokhar had not been armed.

The image below shows Dzhokhar Bourne hoisting himself out of the boat.

I'm not implying it's an impossibility for Dzhokhar Bourne to walk and/ or hoist himself out of a boat after enduring four gun shot wounds, two above the neck, and possibly bleeding out for half a day-- what the hell do I know?-- I'm just saying I'm impressed. In my eyes, the rendition of events upgraded Dzhokhar from Jason Bourne, to 50 Cent, to fucking Terminator.

But his Termintor status was quickly awash, as seen in the photo below. Not only do you realize this truly is a 120 lbs, 19 year old college kid who was supposedly attending parties and smoking weed on his stoop a few days before Manhunt Friday, but we now see him officially fucked (and allegedly having his throat cut n' tubed as a result of his suicide attempt with an invisible gun).

Now Dzhokhar Bourne is in hospital, presumably drugged. Media is reporting he is unable to speak, and that may never speak again, but they are also reporting that Dzhokhar has been ratting himself out. Well no - he's gone silent since receiving his Miranda rights. Except he was always silent because he can't talk. No, that's wrong, he is ratting himself out - American officials said so.

We may never know what truths lie behind this event or the involvement of the Tsarnaev brothers. While mulling over the details of this Alice in Wonderland-esque mind-fuck may be inconsequential to the bigger picture - a bigger picture which will undoubtedly include government enforced implications, both globally and on American soil (see 9/11 for reference) - I think there is value in dragging out these inconsistencies like an 8 minute long Meatloaf song. Why? Because Western culture has been conditioned to believe Government is God: truth, justice, protection, the creator of our democracy, the creator of our freedom. The disengagement and passivity this blind faith has bred, even as our so-called democracy transcends into balls-out corporatocracy is, in itself, murderous to democracy. We are the creators of democracy. We are democracy's life line. If we fail to think about incidents like the Boston Bombing critically, or ask questions, or demand a standard of transparency; if we repeatedly turn our attention away from opportunities of knowledge to distract ourselves with shiny things, as if justice will rise if we ignore injustices; if we complacently adhere to whatever new laws, practices, or wars are triggered as a result of such an event, both in the U.S. and globally, then we are castrated - we are doomed.



4/20 Rally Edmonton, Alberta: No Music, No Food, More Control

Video uploaded by "Civil Information Activist", Doug Brinkman.

"There's definitely a change in attitude, for the first time at any pot rally that I can think of in the past 5 years they've actually been taking bongs and confiscating marijuana." - 420 activist, Ryjin Vander Hoek