Saint John, New Brunswick
“It is really not so ugly after all, provided, of course, that one shuts one's eyes, and does not look at it.”
“SUCK ME OFF!!”
The City of Saint John is an industrial cesspool located near a stretch of the Trans-Canada Highway known as New Brunswick. Notable for its large number of call centers, Saint John also boasts the highest concentration of smelly things north of New Jersey. Saint John is owned and operated by Irving.
In the beginning, there was only fog, and some run-down wood frame housing. Suddenly, the Irving family descended from the sky. They set down the foundations for a corporate empire revolving around high-emission industries such as oil, pulp and paper, and capitalist propaganda. Not long after, Bernard Lord and other politicians completely forgot about the city, as it is eternally obscured by clouds of fog and sulfur dioxide. Nothing has happened since. The latest survey of Saint John showed that 90% of the population is Blackorean and hillbillies from Alabama who are descendants of the Loyalists.
Saint John does somehow have a booming tourism industry, which is based mostly around reversing falls. However, tourists generally only visit once, as the falls are really a swirl of over saturated piss water that changes direction every six hours. The reversing falls restaurant is somewhat of an attraction in itself. This is not because of its famous view of the Saint John river. It is more an attraction for scientists and doctors amazed by the amount of food poisoning cases that come out of the restaurant every day. Health inspectors would shut the restaurant down, but they are all inbred in Saint John.
The loyalist man is another attraction. He was a giant godzilla-like monster sent by the British Crown in August of 1746 to destroy the commonwealth's most horrible city, but succumbed to its pollution and was encased in cement by Saint John's residents. He now towers above the falls restaurant, fist raised in anger against the city he could not destroy.
Cruise ships visit Saint John often; the large influx of seniors from the boats often exhaust the city's near endless supply of souvenir pins and chartered trolley tours. With their Hawaiian shirts and pasty white legs, the tourists often wonder why the Hell the cruise ship has dropped them off here. They are usually heard muttering "This isn't Jamaica!" and "Crap, they tricked me!".
One of the most often asked (and ignored) questions at the local tourist information booth is "How do I get out of this God forsaken dump"? Local residents are often heard, with great pride, (and often pomp and circumstance added for dramatic effect) pointing out to tourists that one of the most interesting features of the city is that it has absolutely no interesting or otherwise distinguishing features.
The current residents of Saint John are either too old, too young, or too poor to move to Alberta. Some eventually manage to escape to nearby Moncton, New Brunswick, though they run the risk of being hit by moose and trucks bound for Nova Scotia along the way. Unfortunately though, like Alberta, SAINT JOHN is the redneck central, is full of indignant, classless retarded people.
The large vat of [[beer] locals call the Saint John harbour may look inviting at first glance, but any habitant will be quick to point out that characters like Stompin' Tom Connors, Elsie Wayne, and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are thought to have first emerged from its depths. It is also a well-known fact that the Saint John River regularly runs upstream in order to avoid the harbour.
Note: New information has recently surfaced indicating that Elsie Wayne is in fact a man. He is an escapee from a mental institution in central Ecuador. His real name is El Seaswine. It is also rumored he may also be using the alias Chaz Bono.
Saint John is home to over 14 million distinct nasty smells, each occupying its own part of the city. For those who enjoy the stench of dead fish, uptown is like Disney Land! On the West Side you will find a magnificent blend of the pulp mill and Moosehead Breweries. So whether you like rotten fermenting beer or toxic wasted paper, the west side is for you! If you are looking to escape the acidic air of Saint John, dont head East! There you will be met by more toxic Irving waste, this time from the Oil Refinery. North End Saint John bears the unmistakable perfume of poverty and annoying teenagers living with their Mom on welfare. Don't even think about going to the South End penninsula, for there you will be met with the smell of sweat, piss, fecal matter, old underpants, the sea, annoying and grouchy lazy people and an odd blend of oregano ( and not the good kind either ).
Saint John's juinor hockey team, the Sea Dogs, are the town's fourth least embarrassing component, behind fog, sewage, and stench. The Sea Dogs are aptly named, as watching them play hockey greatly resembles watching dogs drown. They currently sit last in the league, with a record of 1-783. (It should be noted that their one win was by default, after the visiting team took part in a mass suicide after witnessing the town in which they'd be spending the next 24 hours). Their home games take place in Harbour Station, and because of the arena's proximity to the actual harbour, fans are given complimentary anti-contamination suits and gas masks upon entering. The Sea Dogs once had a charming mascot, Splash, who was unfortunately beaten to death after giving one too many high-fives.
The highlight of any Sea Dogs home game is undoubtedly the "chuck-a-puck" ritual. Throughout the game, fans are permitted to purchase a puck from one of many vendors in the building. Upon the arrival of the first intermission, a virgin is brought out and tied to a pole in the middle of the ice surface. The fans then unload all their anger and frustration, pelting the virgin with thousands of pucks, believing that spilling the blood of an innocent will grant them a winning season.
Contrary to popular belief, Saint John is home to a small amount of economic prowess.:
- Anything owned by the Irving Family
- Drug dealers
- Tim Hortons chain operators
- paper makers
- bounty hunters
- welfare Recipients
- lazy union workers
- non union scabs
- IT specialists?
Saint John's climate is rather dreadful and blah. Its constant damp and fogginess kills its tourism industry and causes many to believe it doesn't exist and makes you appreciate your home town more. When coming into Saint John one can tell he's there not by following road signs but by following the fog.
|This article was mentioned in herenb.com, further diminishing what little credibility the media had left. You can read all about it here|