A Brief Study on the Practical Applications of the Tim Horton's "Tim Biebs" Merchandise Line: A Short Conversation on Race
Well folks it has been 4 years since the last time the world was graced with one of these posts so why the fuck not once again, take another shot at getting you to read something.
As has been continually repeated it seems I am only doing this for my own amusement, so it feels about right to document the passage of time with some fragment of an update. Now that we are living in such a constantly rapid 24 hour news cycle where even our own personal social connections are sending live updates of pretending to be happy while they enjoy whatever current meaningless task takes up their days simultaneously feeling the need to tell everyone about it, because a blog post just seems even less relevant than it was in April of 2018 when I offered to give away a piece of clothing to the first person to comment on my last blog post. (Update: Congratulations to a fellow author of actual stories and not just ramblings, and long-time friend on finally winning a free hat 4.5 years later. Check her out, she posts like everyday whereas I don't even post every year @ms.c.ingscribbles)
No one has commented to this day proving the incredible demand for clothing designed by yours truly. I mean I guess no one had seen any of the designs yet but still. Despite that, I have persisted on dedicating very little time to trying to start up a clothing line with all sorts of intentions and guys did you know what I realized? It is fucking hard to start a clothing line without making it as shitty as all your friends who try and start up a clothing line. If you’re not a hip-hop artist or don’t have 113 million followers getting someone else excited to wear your shit just is not easy. Proof of concept, I literally cannot give my shit away if that gives any idea of demand for literally free clothing. Also did you realize how I said guys? Can I even call you guys? I started off saying folks because like I don't want to needlessly gender, but then again didn't I say no one reads this? So I can really call my audience whatever the fuck I want right? It’s like that time while watching Women’s hockey it sounded like the commentator said the word “Lesbi”. Like you can say that, but should you to a female hockey player?
Speaking of political correctness, can we talk for a second about how misogynistic some of the previous writing on this is? Well the real reason is because at the time of starting this blog, back in 2008 when reading this on a PalmPilot was still a legitimate potential possibility, this author thought that the voice he wanted to portray was the playboy writer type. Tucker Max was all the rage, and CollegeHumour was at peak relevance. There was a song by Asher Roth on the radio... needless to say it was a weird time. Well all times are weird times when they are the time, I mean this is definitely a weird time. But anyway, this author had a specific image he wanted to imply and persona to go along with his ego he felt needed immense gratificational-regalement.
I really don't regret the voice I had back then, but I do realize now that if the man behind the words really is the person who he wanted to portray all those years ago, it might explain why his relationships have turned out the way that they have. Women don't want to be arm in arm with the party boy type once they hit a wannabe-twenty something and people especially don't want to be with some hack writer and part-time DJ in their mid-30's but really that's a story for a different day. People also don't want to wear an uncomfortable t-shirt, and choosing between suppliers is impossible. Do you go cheap and mass produced? Small batch and quality at an expensive price? Known brand or unknown brand? All of these decisions overwhelm someone who cares about the final product rather than determining to take over the market.
So in comes Justin Bieber, with the backing of millions of adoring fans, who thinks he can come out with not only his own high-quality clothing line, but also another clothing brand associated with his line of Tim Horton's products. Add that to his concert t-shirts and branded merchandise at shops like Hot Topic and then his Drew House line. There must be at the least fifty-eleven places you can buy a shirt that he's at the least had his hands on. I thought perhaps I could learn a thing or two from Canada's own wannabe 2020's version of Uncle Jesse from Full House, complete with the songs written about him by a Pop-star.
So this author sought out for Hamilton's local coffee shop Tim Hortons in search of some of the Tim Bits-Esque merch. Did I really care much about the merch? Honestly not really, but I was trying to impress this tall blonde girl who lived in the city.
In some lame attempt to woo her I tried to start an inside joke about fanny packs and their recent relevance. Thinking to myself that getting my hands on a Justin Bieber Tim Biebs fanny pack would be the perfect picture message to send to get this cute girl to think I'm funny and relevant. Love was blind, not talking on the Netflix series, more about that emotion of going on a first date and looking for something without necessarily knowing what you're looking for. She cleverly retorted however that she would never consider wearing the burgundy carryall as long as it bore the name of the Canada's Walk of Fame adorning star. Although she did say she would wear the same garment if it didn't.
Sadly, festivities between myself and this particular lass seceded and one can only attune this happened possibly because of my inclination for Mr. J.B. or possibly because as we were walking side by side down a dark downtown street, there was a moment where she paused for a second to tie up her shoe and wanted me to make a move but at that exact same time I had just noticed a nearby dumpster and caught a whiff of what Toronto in March has to offer, and made an at-the-line audible to forego that moment entirely. That or maybe she just wanted someone taller..
None of this sounds like your favourite author now does it? Too chicken to make a move AND not of adequate height? Honestly I didn't think it sounded like me either but sometimes life can be like that. It's like when it’s just about time to leave and you notice that you've lost a solitary Airpod somewhere in the bedsheets, but you are already late for the gym, forever scratching at the sheets, searching in futility hoping to make it in time before someone is bench-pressing in your preferred squat rack.
Skip ahead a few weeks to yours truly laying on a beach chair poolside in the Caribbean with said waist-bag. The group decides to go get some coffee from one of the non-native English speaking resort workers. By now we had been at the resort for a few days and had started to learn how things worked around the hotel, but my one friend had ordered coffee for the past two days and each time immediately the waiters poured Republica Dominicana cream into it. Fortunately for me as I take my coffee however I can get it. Not so fortunate for homeboy who wanted his coffee black, but it did however bring up the very interesting social interaction where the proper way to say black in Spanish is "negro" but my friend was way intimidated to look a particularly dark-skinned Dominican man in the face and say the word "negro" before he's had his morning cup of coffee.
This particular topic has been brought up in the zeitgeist recently and because certainly one must need to know the sentiment of a now 30 something sometimes DJ who's half-trying to start a clothing line here we go: If the powers that be, the Democratic party of America, and 3 out of the 5 women on the View all come together and agree that we need too banish the term "black coffee" I will be all for it if it is for good reasons and intentions. But if it is simply out of white guilt I really think the dark complexioned community should get together and reconsider. Nothing is funnier than seeing a tired and caffeine depraved white person fumble for the courage to shout for a man in the Caribbean to get him "el cafe negro".
It reminds me of a time when the kid was on a train with his cousin to a ball game and as soon as we got out of the station doors someone lit up a cigarette and I heard my cousin say that he could smell someone smoking “a coo' stick”. At first I thought it was some lingo the kids were using these days but as we were on our way to a NBA game I figured it might not be the most appropriate time or place for this colloquy but I didn’t say anything of it.
Hey cat-sit on this one for about half a second, did you know that the Ferrari racing team uses marked lines shaped into a chevron on their F1 race cars to implant the corporation that owns Marlborough cigarettes' Mission Winnows into the minds of those who watch that particular sporting event on a Saturday morning. Of course the brand Marlborough along with all other tobacco companies has been banned now for several years but rather than try and pursue other avenues should they exist, they cling to the subliminal messaging to implant the idea that one must smoke into their brain.
Then later after the game my cousin bummed a smoke from a guy outside the stadium, and once again commented how he was smoking "a coon stick". Thinking that even though he had a conservative father who is a avid Trump supporter, and all that, that really isn't something that someone should be saying these days. I remarked to him that he shouldn't say that and his response was that I had heard him wrong. He wasn't saying "a coon stick" at all he was saying "acoustic" distinguishing that there was a difference between the way people consumed their nicotine nowadays. Instead of the traditional method of inhaling burning plant matter, these days teens, tweens, and tricks from all scenes have swapped the square rectangular pack to little handheld usb-sticks that produce fruity pebbles smelling odour as if it were some sort of Bob Dylan in the 60's exchange.
It really is a shame that the future is doomed to carry with them a nicotine addiction. The generation that could have said no to the drug instead made some switch from lighters to usb chargers, swapping a match for a USB-Type C cable and not learning the lessons of their forefathers.
Once upon a time back when I used to smoke, while at a campsite with some friends having a jolly old time drinking copious amounts of brews, my one buddy asks me for a cigarette. After handing him one he asks me about the weather briefly before asking me again for a lighter. Then I swear up and down that I saw the man accidentally light his cigarette backwards from the filter. As spit just drools down his mouth before he realizes his error he begins to cough out black and white smoke like a chimney on Christmas. By the time he was finally done coughing and we were both through laughing at the hilarious situation that had just occurred, hours had passed and I drove home and picked up McDonald’s breakfast as others slept off their party in the trailer.
A cavalcade of light cascades over the nearby falls where people go cliff jumping. Well okay there spanky, seems like something you’d realize after the first pull, not like you’re going to be smoking like that all day, but needless to say that day we laughed and laughed until I was sober enough to drive home. It’s almost as if that blue nicotine had the same effect as a yakuza-mob when they put a hit on your kids. You cave into the pressure no matter what. Even if you light the damn thing backwards, you still want to smoke it until the end. You’d think the coughing would make you want to quit but it’s actually a major part of the addiction.
Doja-Cat might be rapping overtop of an Elvis Presley sample that is nearly 75 years old but these days really aren’t as advanced as we like to think they are. We still have the same bad habits as our ancestors.
Funnily enough, I also know someone who’s brothers died jumping off those very same cliffs we were smoking our cigarettes by. The one jumped in off a rather high cliff just for fun after a count of 3-2-1.
When the other brother noticed his brother didn’t come up after some long amount of time, he jumped in after him. I can only imagine the first brother was knocked out by the water or something below. Sadly they both ended up dying that day. There is certainly no moral to this story but I do try and think about it from time to time and wonder what I would do in that situation, if a brother of mine was drowning. Part of me likes to hope I’d react exactly as emblematicly as that one brother, and part of me hopes I wouldn’t.
As has been continually repeated it seems I am only doing this for my own amusement, so it feels about right to document the passage of time with some fragment of an update. Now that we are living in such a constantly rapid 24 hour news cycle where even our own personal social connections are sending live updates of pretending to be happy while they enjoy whatever current meaningless task takes up their days simultaneously feeling the need to tell everyone about it, because a blog post just seems even less relevant than it was in April of 2018 when I offered to give away a piece of clothing to the first person to comment on my last blog post. (Update: Congratulations to a fellow author of actual stories and not just ramblings, and long-time friend on finally winning a free hat 4.5 years later. Check her out, she posts like everyday whereas I don't even post every year @ms.c.ingscribbles)
No one has commented to this day proving the incredible demand for clothing designed by yours truly. I mean I guess no one had seen any of the designs yet but still. Despite that, I have persisted on dedicating very little time to trying to start up a clothing line with all sorts of intentions and guys did you know what I realized? It is fucking hard to start a clothing line without making it as shitty as all your friends who try and start up a clothing line. If you’re not a hip-hop artist or don’t have 113 million followers getting someone else excited to wear your shit just is not easy. Proof of concept, I literally cannot give my shit away if that gives any idea of demand for literally free clothing. Also did you realize how I said guys? Can I even call you guys? I started off saying folks because like I don't want to needlessly gender, but then again didn't I say no one reads this? So I can really call my audience whatever the fuck I want right? It’s like that time while watching Women’s hockey it sounded like the commentator said the word “Lesbi”. Like you can say that, but should you to a female hockey player?
Speaking of political correctness, can we talk for a second about how misogynistic some of the previous writing on this is? Well the real reason is because at the time of starting this blog, back in 2008 when reading this on a PalmPilot was still a legitimate potential possibility, this author thought that the voice he wanted to portray was the playboy writer type. Tucker Max was all the rage, and CollegeHumour was at peak relevance. There was a song by Asher Roth on the radio... needless to say it was a weird time. Well all times are weird times when they are the time, I mean this is definitely a weird time. But anyway, this author had a specific image he wanted to imply and persona to go along with his ego he felt needed immense gratificational-regalement.
I really don't regret the voice I had back then, but I do realize now that if the man behind the words really is the person who he wanted to portray all those years ago, it might explain why his relationships have turned out the way that they have. Women don't want to be arm in arm with the party boy type once they hit a wannabe-twenty something and people especially don't want to be with some hack writer and part-time DJ in their mid-30's but really that's a story for a different day. People also don't want to wear an uncomfortable t-shirt, and choosing between suppliers is impossible. Do you go cheap and mass produced? Small batch and quality at an expensive price? Known brand or unknown brand? All of these decisions overwhelm someone who cares about the final product rather than determining to take over the market.
So in comes Justin Bieber, with the backing of millions of adoring fans, who thinks he can come out with not only his own high-quality clothing line, but also another clothing brand associated with his line of Tim Horton's products. Add that to his concert t-shirts and branded merchandise at shops like Hot Topic and then his Drew House line. There must be at the least fifty-eleven places you can buy a shirt that he's at the least had his hands on. I thought perhaps I could learn a thing or two from Canada's own wannabe 2020's version of Uncle Jesse from Full House, complete with the songs written about him by a Pop-star.
So this author sought out for Hamilton's local coffee shop Tim Hortons in search of some of the Tim Bits-Esque merch. Did I really care much about the merch? Honestly not really, but I was trying to impress this tall blonde girl who lived in the city.
In some lame attempt to woo her I tried to start an inside joke about fanny packs and their recent relevance. Thinking to myself that getting my hands on a Justin Bieber Tim Biebs fanny pack would be the perfect picture message to send to get this cute girl to think I'm funny and relevant. Love was blind, not talking on the Netflix series, more about that emotion of going on a first date and looking for something without necessarily knowing what you're looking for. She cleverly retorted however that she would never consider wearing the burgundy carryall as long as it bore the name of the Canada's Walk of Fame adorning star. Although she did say she would wear the same garment if it didn't.
Sadly, festivities between myself and this particular lass seceded and one can only attune this happened possibly because of my inclination for Mr. J.B. or possibly because as we were walking side by side down a dark downtown street, there was a moment where she paused for a second to tie up her shoe and wanted me to make a move but at that exact same time I had just noticed a nearby dumpster and caught a whiff of what Toronto in March has to offer, and made an at-the-line audible to forego that moment entirely. That or maybe she just wanted someone taller..
None of this sounds like your favourite author now does it? Too chicken to make a move AND not of adequate height? Honestly I didn't think it sounded like me either but sometimes life can be like that. It's like when it’s just about time to leave and you notice that you've lost a solitary Airpod somewhere in the bedsheets, but you are already late for the gym, forever scratching at the sheets, searching in futility hoping to make it in time before someone is bench-pressing in your preferred squat rack.
Skip ahead a few weeks to yours truly laying on a beach chair poolside in the Caribbean with said waist-bag. The group decides to go get some coffee from one of the non-native English speaking resort workers. By now we had been at the resort for a few days and had started to learn how things worked around the hotel, but my one friend had ordered coffee for the past two days and each time immediately the waiters poured Republica Dominicana cream into it. Fortunately for me as I take my coffee however I can get it. Not so fortunate for homeboy who wanted his coffee black, but it did however bring up the very interesting social interaction where the proper way to say black in Spanish is "negro" but my friend was way intimidated to look a particularly dark-skinned Dominican man in the face and say the word "negro" before he's had his morning cup of coffee.
This particular topic has been brought up in the zeitgeist recently and because certainly one must need to know the sentiment of a now 30 something sometimes DJ who's half-trying to start a clothing line here we go: If the powers that be, the Democratic party of America, and 3 out of the 5 women on the View all come together and agree that we need too banish the term "black coffee" I will be all for it if it is for good reasons and intentions. But if it is simply out of white guilt I really think the dark complexioned community should get together and reconsider. Nothing is funnier than seeing a tired and caffeine depraved white person fumble for the courage to shout for a man in the Caribbean to get him "el cafe negro".
It reminds me of a time when the kid was on a train with his cousin to a ball game and as soon as we got out of the station doors someone lit up a cigarette and I heard my cousin say that he could smell someone smoking “a coo' stick”. At first I thought it was some lingo the kids were using these days but as we were on our way to a NBA game I figured it might not be the most appropriate time or place for this colloquy but I didn’t say anything of it.
Hey cat-sit on this one for about half a second, did you know that the Ferrari racing team uses marked lines shaped into a chevron on their F1 race cars to implant the corporation that owns Marlborough cigarettes' Mission Winnows into the minds of those who watch that particular sporting event on a Saturday morning. Of course the brand Marlborough along with all other tobacco companies has been banned now for several years but rather than try and pursue other avenues should they exist, they cling to the subliminal messaging to implant the idea that one must smoke into their brain.
Then later after the game my cousin bummed a smoke from a guy outside the stadium, and once again commented how he was smoking "a coon stick". Thinking that even though he had a conservative father who is a avid Trump supporter, and all that, that really isn't something that someone should be saying these days. I remarked to him that he shouldn't say that and his response was that I had heard him wrong. He wasn't saying "a coon stick" at all he was saying "acoustic" distinguishing that there was a difference between the way people consumed their nicotine nowadays. Instead of the traditional method of inhaling burning plant matter, these days teens, tweens, and tricks from all scenes have swapped the square rectangular pack to little handheld usb-sticks that produce fruity pebbles smelling odour as if it were some sort of Bob Dylan in the 60's exchange.
It really is a shame that the future is doomed to carry with them a nicotine addiction. The generation that could have said no to the drug instead made some switch from lighters to usb chargers, swapping a match for a USB-Type C cable and not learning the lessons of their forefathers.
Once upon a time back when I used to smoke, while at a campsite with some friends having a jolly old time drinking copious amounts of brews, my one buddy asks me for a cigarette. After handing him one he asks me about the weather briefly before asking me again for a lighter. Then I swear up and down that I saw the man accidentally light his cigarette backwards from the filter. As spit just drools down his mouth before he realizes his error he begins to cough out black and white smoke like a chimney on Christmas. By the time he was finally done coughing and we were both through laughing at the hilarious situation that had just occurred, hours had passed and I drove home and picked up McDonald’s breakfast as others slept off their party in the trailer.
A cavalcade of light cascades over the nearby falls where people go cliff jumping. Well okay there spanky, seems like something you’d realize after the first pull, not like you’re going to be smoking like that all day, but needless to say that day we laughed and laughed until I was sober enough to drive home. It’s almost as if that blue nicotine had the same effect as a yakuza-mob when they put a hit on your kids. You cave into the pressure no matter what. Even if you light the damn thing backwards, you still want to smoke it until the end. You’d think the coughing would make you want to quit but it’s actually a major part of the addiction.
Doja-Cat might be rapping overtop of an Elvis Presley sample that is nearly 75 years old but these days really aren’t as advanced as we like to think they are. We still have the same bad habits as our ancestors.
Funnily enough, I also know someone who’s brothers died jumping off those very same cliffs we were smoking our cigarettes by. The one jumped in off a rather high cliff just for fun after a count of 3-2-1.
When the other brother noticed his brother didn’t come up after some long amount of time, he jumped in after him. I can only imagine the first brother was knocked out by the water or something below. Sadly they both ended up dying that day. There is certainly no moral to this story but I do try and think about it from time to time and wonder what I would do in that situation, if a brother of mine was drowning. Part of me likes to hope I’d react exactly as emblematicly as that one brother, and part of me hopes I wouldn’t.
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