THIS WEEK: CHOM, Bud Light, convulsing at the Tam Tams!
PLUS: A lesbian with a fresh haircut goes out for a walk…!!
“edited” by AL SOUTH
[Ed’s note(s): Ok, this is more or less what would have been in the June 28 edition of the Rant Line™. The file was ready early, on the morning of Friday June 22, since I was leaving the next day for vacation and the Rant Line™ was due for its annual summer sabbatical. Unfortunately, the hammer came down at about 10.30 am, and the Mirror shut shop. The Rant Line™, however, kept running, deluged by end-of-paper rants. So some of these rants are a bit old, but preserved here nonetheless.
On another note, special thanks to Roger Argent and also the unsung Roger Argentess for their faithful years of sub-editing. They transcribed more rants than anybody on Earth and are hereby inducted into the Rant Line Hall of Fame™ (more on that later).
On a final note, what you see here is a work in progress, obviously, and such things as the “design” will be modified in the coming weeks, months and years. The science, however, will remain the same.
And now, on to the rants. As always, we start with the music rants, since music, particularly local music, is STILL what the Rant Line™ is supposed to be about…]
M Must give credit where credit is due. Last week my alarm went off at its usual bright and early 6:15, set to CHOM FM. Yeah, I know, I know. Extremely limited playlist, to say the least. One or two NICKELBACK songs, maybe the new Chili Peppers song. Maybe stretching, at max, to “Closer to the Heart” or “Spirit of Radio” by Rush. But that morning—maybe because Terry DiMonte was away on VACATION—what do I get? Talking Heads, “Psycho Killer.” They’re playing this song on CHOM? The ultimate wake-up song. The CHOM morning playlist censors must have been looking the other way. So all I can say is there is HOPE and thank you. [BLEEP!]
M Hi. I’m ranting about how YouTube makes me watch fucking commercials before I can play my music. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to want to play a song when you are all DRUNK with your friends, but no, no, no you have to watch three minutes of BUD LIGHT CRAP. No one likes that, who wants to drink that?! I don’t know. All I want to do is hear a Queen song. It gets on my ass. It gets up my ass, and I don’t like things up my ass except for dick. But that’s another story. For sure I don’t want Bud Light up my ass. The song is “I Want To Break Free.” [pause] Finally, here it goes. Look at Freddy’s BOOBS! I don’t think those are real. But he’s got a moustache. Hey, look there’s Roger Taylor! [noise in background] Hey, did you hear that? That was a poof from a HOT GIRL’S BUM. [BLEEP!]
[Ed’s note: There goes the Budweiser account.]
M Yeah, so I was reading the Rant Line™ and I actually ENJOYED it. But then I come to this one about the guy who got JACKED at the bar for making inappropriate comments towards Muslims. First of all, I would like to say that I don’t particularly care for the M-BOMBS either. However, here’s how I read this: You said something. You got jawed for it. You started crying and you left. And that makes you a bitch. But the fact that you are claiming—and I’m calling bullshit by the way—that you actually put something in his DRINK makes you a pathetic, horrible, terrible excuse for a human being. I hope that he finds you and breaks every bone in your worthless little fucking body. Bye bye. [BLEEP!]
M Yeah, I never really liked COPS before but I have to say I hate them more each day. I’m tired of seeing them abuse their POWER. Whatever happened to serve and protect? It’s a fucking joke. Recently I saw them numerous times giving out tickets to people for MISDEMEANORS on St-Laurent street. They’re on such a power trip, it’s incredible. And if you happen to be an Anglo, look out, they’re even tougher with you. It really makes me wonder—who are these people who become cops? [BLEEP!]
M Hi Montreal. I want to let you know what the hell is going on in our city. I was at TAM TAMS a while ago and I stayed a little late—I was there until about 10—and the cops showed up. Usually, cops show up at the Tam Tams at the very end, around 11:30. Not to be dicks, but to sit there and say, “Hey, park’s closed. You’ve got to go home.” Okay, thank you very much, officer. Have a good night. Right? Now, I don’t know if it was because of protesters or what, but they started breaking up the Tam Tam circle. And then they start HOG-TYING this one guy! I go up to them and ask, “Hey, why are you arresting this guy for?” And the officer—BADGE NUMBER 6167—pushes me back and says, “Stay back!” And I’m, like, “Okay, fine, but why are you arresting this guy?” And he fucking PEPPER-SPRAYED me. Now, I’ve never been pepper-sprayed my whole life and I had a severe allergic reaction to this. I stopped breathing, I started foaming at the mouth and I started CONVULSING. Apparently, my girlfriend tried to give me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to get me to breathe again. At which point, they arrested me—while I was unconscious. They brought me to the fucking station! I didn’t get out of there until about 4:30. I wasn’t allowed a BLANKET. They didn’t let me call my lawyer. They didn’t read me my rights. They didn’t tell me why I was under arrest. So, here’s the thing, Montreal. I’m not one to call people to arms—especially after all the shit that the fucking students have been doing—but this fucking police state cannot continue. I’m sorry, but if we can’t even have PEACEFUL GATHERINGS—not peaceful protests, peaceful gatherings—where people just sit around and listen to Tam Tam drums, smoke a JOINT and relax and enjoy their fucking life, then what are we coming to? Al South, Roger Argent, you need to publish this. Maybe not the whole thing, edit it if you have to make it SHORTER, but let people know what happened on Mount Royal that night. Let them know that I almost DIED at the hands of the people who are supposed to protect us. Bye. [BLEEP!]
F Hey, so I was walking along Sherbrooke yesterday and I had a FRESH HAIRCUT. I was feeling good. And then this group of five guys with rattails and tight Adidas pants asked me if I am a LESBIAN. So I look at them and I am like, ya, I am. And I walk away. But then they start taunting me for a block-and-a-half, yelling lesbian and DYKE like it’s an insult or something. Out of concern for my safety, I didn’t do or say anything. But honestly, what I would have liked to have done was look them in the eye and go, “Ya, and you know what? I get better fucking PUSSY than you do.” [BLEEP!]
GOT AN OPINON ON THE LOCAL SCENE? WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU! CALL (514) 271-RANT (7268)