June 6th, 2006... Everyone look out! It's the end of the world! I think everyone is looking at this the wrong way. Don't be sad and scared! Be happy! I for one, am looking forward to not dealing with my whiny snivilling neighbor with the barking dog and the eighty-seven kids. I look forward to not working. Also, I look forward to not dealing with these supersticious fanatics who believe that everything is a sign pointing to the end of our existance. Guess what folks, if we die, they die, and that's a good thing. These paranoid lunatics will suddenly come up with the most amazing mathmatical coincidences. "If you do the math, September 11th is exactly so many days ago, the day America invaded Iraq is so many days ago... subtract your dog's age and the answer is 666!" Just like the number of fucking times the world was supposed to end and never did. Just like the number of times these crazy assholes open their mouths. It's also the number of times I'd like to stab them in the eyes with a pair of sissors, the child safety kind, so it would take a really long time and I could enjoy it. Then I would fufill his profecy and his paranoia would end. I just had another thought... how do we know that 666 is the number of the beast? Maybe the Devil liked his cake on his seventh birthday and so from then on his favorite number was seven. So if you're walking around today getting all figgity, worried about everything, I hope my "final" thought will give you some comfort: if today is indeed the last day of human existance, Paris Hilton will also die.

I work in the oil and gas industry. I work in oilfield maintanance. Sounds fancy. It's not. I hand wrenches to people. I work with nuts and bolts. I really put effort into it, going to work for me is like eating something gross that someone went to alot of trouble to make. MMMMM. "Yes that is good... do you happen to have a dog? Just wondering."

The main problem is I just can't get into it. Know what a flange is? A nipple? NOT THAT NIPPLE... the boring kind? Jesus. These people actually spend their free time after work to continue talking about work.

We're talking 70-80 hours a week of time on the clock... then they want to stick around and talk about the job that they just did or the job they are going to do tommorrow... why? I know, passion. A passion for flanges, boring nipples and nuts and bolts. WOW. Maybe later we can get together and eat a big plate of who gives a fuck?... Or hey, let's walk around in a circle... that'd be fun, right? Let's have a serious discussion about spoon collecting.... or look at dirt! What'd ya do yesterday? Let's talk about it again!

Hey, it's not like I'm putting them down, these people make more money than I will in my lifetime, and they are all professional experts at what they do. I just don't understand their "passion". The funny thing is... they can't understand why I wouldn't love to know how they seperate water from oil or the specific thickness of piping for various jobs. It's semi-interesing. Like how underwear is made... or the distance to the moon. I wish I were on the moon sometimes. I'm sure they do too. If you thought reading this was boring... imagine my job.

p.s.

Come see me May 31st-June 3rd and 4th at the Rocky Mountain Comedy Festival. Get ready Canmore Bitches!

1) Move to Brooks
2) Make money
3) Marry girl of my dreams

1) Recover from soul crushing heartache
2) Recover from hangover
3) Leave Brooks
4) Really, make sure to leave Brooks

It was such a good idea at the time. I really thought she was the one. I was convinced. Then, she dumped me. Getting dumped by a hot girl hurts way more than getting dumped by an ugly girl. No offence, Tanya. I feel so foolish. It was a plan. I would go get money, we would move in together, get married and build a life. I feel so lied to. I guess she meant it at the time. How do you go from "You are my soul mate and I want to be your wife" to "What should I do with your stuff?" Loving someone who doesn't love you is the worst pain I have ever known. Getting dumped by someone you truly love is horrible. Getting dumped by someone you truly love when you live in Brooks, even worse. And wouldn't you know it? That same neighbor told me "Ya get used to it!". Fucker. All of my friends tell me, "don't worry buddy.. you'll find someone." Not in Brooks. After seeing the women in Brooks, I understand why the odd farmer cracks up and fucks his cow. So I guess the whole point to this babble is: Don't judge cow fuckers... maybe they have a point... and oh yeah, fuck Brooks, don't even stop here to piss... or shit, we have enough shit.

Muslims are very upset with Danish people. If you don't know there is this little tiny paper somewhere that published some extremely racist cartoons depicting Muhammad with a bomb in his Turban. I'm all for a good joke, and you fuckers know how sick I am, but even I have my limits. That's right, you heard it here first, Ogden is offended. Muslim people are amoung the most peaceful humans on the planet and should be treated with respect. Unless they have a bomb in their turban. Which, by the way, they don't, most of the time.

I know what your thinking... "you're right, Shane... how can I join you in your quest to show our Muslim brothers in this country that we love them and that they are welcome?" For the rest of my life, I have taken a personal vow never to eat Danishes again, and if you have any respect for Muslims you won't either. Those selfish Danes will feel the rath of my sanctions and think twice before they make any more racist cartoons.

I know alot of people (especially my Muslim friends) will look at this as taking the matter lightly, but I want you to know I'm quite serious. I don't think it is fair to blame all the Danish people for one stupid Dane cartoonist's racist publication, but shit happens so you won't sell a Danish to me. Not in a million years.

"I have fallen in love with a girl and she bought a plane ticket for me to go to Newfoundland for New Year's Eve, then I'm moving out west Jan.11th. Out of my 50 jobs, this one was #2(second best). Thank you for the money, Shane"

That's what I wrote. It's also incredibly freeing to hand in your 2 week notice, because you don't really care that much about the consequences of your actions.. for example at the end of a call last night I told a customer

"Thanks for playing the Eddie Bauer Game!" And she laughed her ass off. Last night I told my supervisor if he would give me a personal day off work I would wear a ridiculous wool hat I borrowed from Andrew's mom for my entire shift and when he said no I told him "Okay, but let me show you what you're missing" and I ducked down behind the cubicle and sprang up with the hat on and I thought he was going to fall over laughing.

He never laughs, and I like that I made him laugh.

Ogden

I'm in love. Not just love, the kind of love that makes you want to puke when you hear people talk about how in love they are, I'm making total strangers projectile vomit because I'm in such a good mood lately, I'll say "Nice weather we're having!" They'll say "Are you kidding, it's freezing!" I'll say "I know, I can't feel my legs!" I tell ya lately I'm in too good a mood and I'm annoying as hell, the kind of good mood that makes you go "You know, the Tony Danza show isn't that bad." Yes it is! Who'm I kidding? In 2 years I'll be pulling panties out of the sink to brush my teeth, but for now I'm foolish and crazy in love. I know it's like every other time I have loved a girl she's gonna crush my soul and take my money, not that I have money... that's another wierd thing... she's hot and I know you're thinking come on Ogden she's with you how hot can she be? Way out of my league retarted hot, that's how hot... and she must have brain damage because she's too hot to be with me... but she is.. it's like... have you ever seen a couple and the girl is hot and the guy is ugly and you think.. well, she must be in it for the money? Well, that's us, but no money... I checked to see if her eyes were crooked, thought maybe she's lookin' at some other guy but nope, she's looking at me. Hey, I'm not complaining, I'll ride this train until I get to the station but I'm telling you when this ends it's gonna hurt real bad. It's like I'm on the tracks, the train is headed straight for me and all my friends are saying "you better get out of the way, this is going to hurt!" And I'm saying "No, no... this train's different." Someone famous once said "It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all"... yeah, I guess... especially if she's hot.

What I can't stand are these celebrity gossip shows, enquirer television, shows like Entertainment Tonight, Inside Entertainment, shit like that. I don't care if Lindsay Lohan smokes. I don't care if she got into a car accident. I don't even care if she takes it up the ass... can I also add.. nobody should.

If P Diddy wants to go horseback riding naked with Mel Gibson- I don't give a shit. Not even if they're both naked and the horse has an erection. I don't care if Renee Russo's gynocologist loses his wedding ring in what he considers an abnormally large vagina. Will Britney Spears be able to get back into shape AFTER the baby?

I don't care. Not one bit. I refuse to invest one thought into her souless life. I hope it's a really hard pregnancy for her- 37 hours of hard labour. I hope they have to turn the baby around several times becuase the baby keeps trying to come out backwards and I hope it really hurts. I hope they have to preform an emergency treceotamy because she hyperventalates and she can never sing again. I hope in the end the doctors decide they have to do a C-section anyway and she has a really noticeable scar forever and I hope she gives the baby up for adoption and slowly loses the will to live and I hope she winds up in Vancouver sucking cock for drug money. And I hope she lives for a long, long time.

I also hate "where are they now"? Who cares? Maybe they're home playing monopoly, maybe they purchased a small island in the Phillipenes where they enjoy three dollar blowjobs on an hourly basis. Wherever they are, whatever they do, we shouldn't care.

I'm against space travel. What a waste of time and money. It's also terrible when all of these people scream about what a miracle it is when the astronaughts survive their journeys. It's just math, probability, X amount go up, X amount make it back. In this math problem... I'm having a tough time with Y. Why?

It isn't a tragedy when astronaughts die, they knew the risks. Hey, when you strap yourself into a rocket, go up really high in the air where it's cold and there's no oxygen or gravity... something could go wrong. That's my number one priority in life... wherever I go I always make sure there's an abundant supply of oxygen and gravity.

Here's my question... why do they even bother going up there? Then we worry about them making it home safely. F them, they went up there on their own drethers, let them worry about the trip back. They send the wrong people to space anyway. They send the elite, top of the class, Alpha humans. Why don't we send the genetic leftovers, the degenerate social rejects, the people that, in the simplest of terms... we don't want. Send Micheal Jackson, send Ben Mulrooney, send the whole Bush family... yes, even Barbara. Send a shuttle full of assholes right to Uranus.

These guys were underpaid, so most of them didn't take the job too seriously... infact they were professional dog fuckers. I liked them immediately because they already knew what I was about to discover: The Chandler company and management were greedy, evil, incompotent losers who take their job so seriously their wives probably have to listen to their boring work stories and are left alone all the time and are considering fucking the mail man... if you're reading this, ladies, don't hesitate, fuck the mail man, your husbands are wankers, and you are sexy... I know he hasn't told you because he's been too busy underpaying and scolding his employees. Maybe with all that money they're saving on labor costs they could afford to get you a nice big dildo, but don't hold your breath. The crew made me laugh all the time, but I will always remember the best prank I ever saw in my life compliments of disgruntled Chandler employees:

Remember the sweaty asshole I told you about? Roy's the name, and ass kissing is his game. When the big boss walked by, he would pucker up from across the room. "Yes sir, oh, yes sir, absolutely sir, the boys are working on this, and we are going to get this and that lined up by this time and I've never sucked a man's cock before but if you think it will help the company I'll gladly slurp down your shaft and I'll even jam my thumb in your ass for a little extra excitement, if it will help the company..." anyway, you get the picture. So with such a big fear of the boss, Roy was trying to instill this fear into us, but he forgot we just don't give a fuck. The crew decided it was payback. When the big boss walked by our break area, one of the guys asked him if he would mind pulling a little prank on Roy. He asked what he had in mind. When we went back to work, it was arranged the big boss would walk by Roy and the prankster working next to him. The prankster threw down his tools and started yelling at the big boss "I'm tired of this shit, you big wigs walk by here in your suits and say oh that looks good... why don't you pick up a tool, roll up your sleeves and do something usefull?", ect. The big boss asked Roy what he was going to do about this, and Roy's face went ghost white, he came completely unglued. Then everyone, including the big boss laughed at him hystarically.

In conclusion, I asked 2 different "management team members" on 5 different occasions how much I was getting paid. They kept telling me things like, "let's see how it goes" or "it's not that simple, we have to sit down and sign a contract"... they wouldn't give me a straight answer. Then two weeks after I started they told me eight dollars an hour. I wouldn't have even started for that shitty wage, or maybe I would have, but they could have at least told me. Then 26 days later, they still haven't paid me. Mike from payroll told me that since I didn't work there that long, they weren't treating me as a real employee... while everyone else was getting paid Friday, the "guy who signs the cheques" isn't in until Monday and I would have to wait until then. So fuck Mike, fuck Mark, fuck Roy and last but certainly not least, fuck CHANDLER. If you motherfuckers want to sue for defimation of character I've spoken to the good people at Employment Standards and they told me that any company must make clear the rate of pay BEFORE any temparary or full time worker starts working and must be paid 16 days after the FIRST day of working. I could take you to small claims court for $25.00 and have a judge find you in violation of Employment Standards and counter sue for mistreatment. So Fuck you. Anyone reading this with an ounce of compassion for people who live check to check and agree that CHANDLER is a bad company, don't do business with them... it's not that hard to find a good replacement company to do business with. Every time you do business with a company who mistreats their employees, you are directly mistreating them. Besides, I told you, their employees are funny and a good bunch of guys... do them a favor and fuck CHANDLER.

Hello comedy fans, this is some asshole you don't want to listen to. Seriously, why the fuck are you reading this. Don't you have something else you could be doing, fucking your spouse perhaps? I realize not all of you are that lucky. You could however, at least masturbate and think about when you had a spouse... or you could save up your empty liqour bottles for deposit, look for change in the ashtray and under the cushions of your couch and scrape together enough coins to get a low class hooker to blow you beside a dumpster. Still can't find anything to do? I commend you, reader, you are officially the only person to read this much of this meaningless paragraph. If you still need something to do, I recommend seeing a loan officer at your local bank... tell them you want six million dollars. When they ask you what for, tell them you hadn't really thought about it yet, but you promise it will be something really good. Get a job you don't care about and tell the boss you wish you could be a manager like him so you could afford to feed your wife as much as he can. Incase he missed your implied sarcasm, remind him his wife is a fat bitch. Don't forget to give him the finger. If you still can't find anything to do, go donate blood, then tell them you're HIV positive. Then say "I know... I know... I'm just really forgetful sometimes." There, that will get you started. Get out there away from your computer and interact with some human beings... they're way more fucked up than I am, it will be a fun time I promise.
ogden

RULE #1: Be Kind To Others As Often As Possible.
RULE #2: DON'T FUCK CHILDREN. EVER.

And Micheal Jackson doesn't qualify.

Love your silly Pal,
Shane Donald Ogden

Sometimes you think you are having your final two seconds but you live. That ever happen to you? Like maybe your walkin' and out of nowhere comes a really fast car that just about hits you but it just brushes your pantleg and you feel that breeze... and you yell "Wholy Fuck! Jesus... that was close... I think I shit my pants.. thank God I'm alive." Then you take that thank God I'm alive breath. And you repeat yourself. "Wholy Fuck! Jesus.. that was close... I think I shit my pants... I really did shit my pants... Thank God I'm alive."

So after this almost death experience, even though you now have a second chance at life and even though you aren't particularly religious person you thank God do you turn over a new leaf? Say to yourself... today I'm gonna live everyday like it was the last day of my life? No. You start cursing the guy who almost hit you. That such in such, if I ever see him again I'll do this to him and I'll do that to him and he'll know what's what. No you wont. Not really. But it feels good to say. Besides, what are you getting all wound up about, he's gonna die too, and judging by the speed at which he is driving, he'll die first.

I was making a snowman with my three-year-old boy and he yelled, "I found something". I asked him what he found and when I looked at the bottom of our snowman it was dog shit. I told him it was the dog’s poop and he asked, "Why did the dog poop on frosty?" I told him so that we could make his eyes. That’s right, frosty had dog shit eyes.

We took him to see the "the polar express", a movie about a train that takes little boys and girls to the North Pole to meet Santa. He loved it. In the theater he was bouncing on my knee clapping and giggling, I’ve never seen him so excited… until we got home that night. When we pulled into the driveway a train was coming by. My little boy thought he was getting on the Polar Express… and I didn’t try to convince him otherwise. I just kept on teasing him, asking him if he had his ticket and yelling "all aboard!" We all had quite a laugh.

And then the shit hit the fan.

It wasn’t a great Christmas to begin with… our "spirit" was already low. Someone in our family had to work on Christmas day and two other family members had died, one a week before and one just a few days before.

We were coming home from church. Yes, even I occasionally go to church… on holidays and for funerals and weddings. Every time I go to church I get into trouble… apparently I "disrupt the order of things" when they want you to repeat some of the phrases. For those of you who may not be familiar… the minister will say something like "The word of the Lord" and you say "Thanks be to God". Well… let’s just say I really thank him… everyone else seems to be asleep. Not me, I say "Thanks be to God!" Proudly with my chest sticking out. I even nod my head after I say things. I really get into it. "God be with you"… "And also with you"… I might even point at the guy. Not everyone shares my enthusiasm.

Anyway...

As I was saying we were coming home from church. There was a roadblock and a rumor mill any avid gossiper would be proud of forming at the roadblock. People were out of their cars, talking to each other at the side of the road. Police, Fire, Ambulance, even the local news van flew by, but people were making up their own news: hostage-taking… shots fired… my girlfriend started to cry. She was supposed to be working that night but she switched shifts. She knew those people very well, and started to wonder if they were still alive.

Then we saw smoke... the gas station was on fire! Even worse... the gas station was also the liquor store... so the liquor store was on fire! Welsford, New Brunswick cannot be without liquor! It was quite a Christmas Eve.

We woke up on Christmas Day and took the video camera that Santa brought us to film the area where the gas station had been. Everyone fantasizes about his or her work burning to the ground… you’ve probably even thought about your building at work burning down. My girlfriend even took a sizeable advance to pay for Christmas presents, which makes her a suspect I suppose, but you have to admit, she has great timing. Nobody had been hurt, except one guy… he got really hurt. Apparently a mentally disturbed man went into the Welsford Esso with a shotgun and thankfully instructed everyone to get out. This man was at the end of his rope, his wife left him, he lost his job and apparently his mind. Somehow… the building caught on fire… nobody really knows how, except him. They found curled up between two stacks of beer in the cooler. The official cause of death was smoke inhalation.

Everyone has his or her own theory as to how the fire started, so here is mine:

I think he just wanted to shoot things with his gun. Since the hard liquor wall was where the fire started, I think he wanted to shoot the whiskey bottles like in the old cowboy movies, but in the old west they didn’t have propane tanks on the other side of their whiskey bottles. When the wall of booze started to burn, and the police blocking his exit, I think he went into the beer cooler, the coldest place in an otherwise hot location.

His name was David Legacy, and I’m not making that up. He is to be cremated; I’m not making that up either. The locals have lovingly named him Deep Fried Dave. Merry Christmas Dave, your legacy is over.

People also are saying I'm self indulgent with this website, and this "thoughts section". Well, I don't think so I'm just being honest. I won't say any names, but fuck you Tony.

More important, however... is family, my family and I love them more than comedy. I've been travelling this country for 5 years now and my baby's mamma is sick of it. I'm gonna take a year to see if I can trick her back into coming with me again. I miss my son so much I get sick to my stomach, so it's time for a mental rest. I have to breathe.

My new contact information will be posted shortly, and I promise you I will be back.

In the meantime I will be touring, so come and see me at the shows when I pop into your town. It will be good to see you, as I will have just spent time in NB and will be excited to be out of the house.

Keeping it real,
OGDEN

I signed my first pair of boobs! My first titty signing! If you want to see (I know you do) click on my pictures under "my autograph"(yes, they were nice). I thought only rock stars got to sign boobs!

My very first cd will be available in November. I'm calling it "What's so Funny?" and I am toying with the idea of a special edition to include some bonus materials of some type.

I am disheartened lately about all of the natural disasters and violence and greed in the world lately. It's gettin' pretty rough out there... they are calling the war in Iraq the new Vietnam... poor Florida! How many hurricanes can there be? Who pissed in Mother Natures corn flakes? And people seem to be more and more aggressive and agitated these days. I'll give you 3 examples.

In Hamilton (where I live) a guy took a hammer and smashed in some guys face (he lived). Also in Hamilton, a lady got her throat cut in a food court (where I eat). She lived. In Toronto a man pistol whipped his girlfriend/wife, and when he got tired of beating her he ran upstairs and grabbed some poor unsuspecting lady and put a gun to her head. The cops shot him in the face. He didn't live. This has all occurred recently and I have something to say about each one.

First of all, a hammer?!! I have been angry with people. The truth is, I've been enraged by people. Never have I been angry enough to go to the home depot and select a tool to smash some guys face like a pumpkin. Now for the lady getting her throat cut and the man pistol whipping his girl. What the hell are they putting in the food at the food court? MSG wasn't this bad.

Seriously, this world is out of control. Our future looks bad all together, doesn't it? The election in the U.S. is so crazy. One guy wants to send children to die for oil and the other guy looks like he's falling asleep all the time. I know usually it's the lesser of two evils, and that there usually isn't a best choice, people usually vote against someone and not for them, but my God, what do you do? I'm glad I live in Canada. Not that we have it much better. Paul Martin (our Prime Minister, for those of you who may not know) is not accepting a pay raise. What a great guy. I changed my mind about you, Mr. Prime Minister... sorry about all of the rude things I say about you every single day. Yep, looks like now that our leader has to tighten his belt he may have to go with the Honda Prelude vs. the Suburban he originally wanted. Do our Prime Ministers and former Prime Ministers have body guards, sort of like Presidents have secret service? Just wondering.

I was listening to Coast to Coast am with Art Bell on the radio, and the program mentioned that another Meteor came close to earth just a day or two ago and that scientists say it's only a matter of time. People say I'm crazy for pursuing comedy because there's no money in it, that the odds of "making it" are less than zero. Imagine spending 40 years, working for someone else, in a cubical in an office or in a factory somewhere and then the meteor hits! Some guys thinking... "my promotion is just around the corner, and soon I'll retire". Boom. If they see it coming, will they tell us? If I see it coming, I'm going to light a smoke and give it the finger. I'm rebellious that way. I guess what I'm saying is do what you want. I don't think we are going to last much longer. Airborne diseases, incurable viruses, overpopulation, contamination, air pollution, holes in the ozone layer, overcrowded landfills, under funded health care, natural disasters and oh my god NO HOCKEY!! It's the end of the world for sure. But don't worry, I signed tits.