What I May Have Just Seen On The Internet: Piecakes


In this brand new, ground breaking, and hard hitting series – that will occur when I can’t think of anything else to write about – we will discuss, “What I May Have Just Seen On The Internet.” It could be anything! Elves! Elvis! Dire squirrels!

Here are the rules:

  • I can only catch a glimpse of the topic in a feed.
  • I can’t click the link or read the article at all before I start weighing in. Which seems to be a widely accepted practice these days.
  • Only after I write about what I think I saw do I actually investigate what I glimpsed.
  • Then reveal it to you and figure out if I’m right or wrong.

Now, without further adieu…



There wasn’t too much that I felt like writing about. To be honest, I’ve been pretty lazy on the writing front lately. I guess it’s just that time of year. Anticipation for the holidays and a good lengthy vacation that can’t get here soon enough. I cannot wait!

It was during one of my classic “how am I going to spend all that time” day dreams that I came across an image in my facebook feed. No, it wasn’t someone’s less than attractive child. Although, what I saw has the ability to make unattractive children even less so. What did I see? Well for those who’ve missed the word twice already it was Piecakes or that is what I am calling them.

At first glance, piecakes may look like a chocolate cake with cherries in it. Maybe there is some sort of cream up in there. Who wouldn’t like that? Upon further inspection, potential diabetics will realize that those cherries are living inside of a pie and that pie is nestled in between two layers of chocolate cake! Hallelueah! Hosanna in the highest and angels on high it is truly the most wonderful time of the year. No wonder way Santa is such a fatty!

The Reveal

Sweet bearded Jesus I was right! Well, except that it’s called Piecaken, which is superior to the name, piecakes. While piecaken is a nod to Turducken – which contains three birds – piecaken is only pie and cake. Maybe someone should turn it into a pudding cake and call it Piecaking. Not complaining, just trying to make things better.

So, this exists and I couldn’t have been happier. I wish I would have left it there. I was trying to find a good image. Below is the best version of what I originally saw. I don’t know who decided to upload the world’s tiniest recipe photo and I don’t want to know the jackasses that blew it up to 1080p. What the hell is wrong with people? My euphoric state was beginning to wane.


Before I settled on the photo above I came across many other versions of piecaken. Deviations on the somewhat palatable cherry/chocolate combo. Three different pies inside of one cake! Pumpkin and rhubarb don’t belong on the same plate, much less shoved inside a cake with an apple pie. Lovecraftian abominations with no structural integrity were all I saw. All of them were oozing and collapsing on themselves.  While some had berries, none had any respect.


Where do you side delicious or disgusting? Let us know!


As alway please like, share, and look both ways before crossing the streets. That’s the one way that I don’t want to lose readership.

How Soon Is New Year Well Wishing Old?

  Yay! It’s 2015 and has been for about a week now. It could be more or less depending on how quickly I get this post nailed to the wall. Everyone is still wishing everyone a Happy New Year, Happy Holidays, and – the one that is most feared by the politically correct – Merry Christmas. Yes, even on the ninth day of the new year, Christmas well wishing is still floating around. I am an extrovert and I am exhausted or is it boredom? Exborestedom?

  Sometimes I just respond with the traditional mimicked response. I am sincere, I don’t want anyone to have a  bad year. The conversation doesn’t usually end there though. What did you do? Where did you go? Who did you see? What did you get? To be fair these questions are all well a good the first couple of days back to the grind. Then it turns into some kind of fan made Groundhog Day, but not really. So how long do we keep saying this stuff?

  Well according to my math, which includes using a calculator, Photoshop, rounding, and guesstimation, at least another two weeks would be acceptable. As when a year is put into the same scale as a week, we are still somewhere in Monday morning. The math isn’t exact. I didn’t account for February. I didn’t care that I lost half a month. Is it a leap year?

  For those of you thinking I am out of touch and cynical, here is a little exercise for you. Imagine yourself on a Monday or whatever day it is that is the beginning of your work week. It is the “worst” day of your first world life. All you want to be doing is whatever it was you were doing the days prior. Instead you are at work. All day long, literally everyone you run into says “Happy Monday!” or “Good Morning!” Even after the sun has gone down, at three in the afternoon because you live in Canada!

  Now that we are all good and cynical together, here is an example of a conversation with some snappy things to say. You are on your break and run into that person with the smile on their face because they were smarter than you and took extra days off. “Happy New Year!” they exclaim. “You wishin’ or askin’?” you inquire rhetorically. Next, you immediately add something like “I don’t know, it is too early to say,” or “How about I let you know in 350?” Honestly, you have to start getting a little creative after the umpteenth instance of this conversation. You will go nuts if you don’t. A couple of roughly guesstimated weeks is a long time.

The Elf On A Shelf Can Go Stuff Itself!

  A couple of years ago I walked into Target Canada and saw the horrendous capitalist abortion, The Elf on the Shelf: A Christmas Tradition. Yeah, a tradition of lead paint, smoking while pregnant and hating Russians. Holy crap, what decade is this thing from? Honestly, has opening up a box of Kraft Dinner become so labour intensive that we don’t have time to create our own Christmas traditions? Especially ones not based a creepy doll watching your children and being a jerk around the house. Ones that look as though they crawled out of the rose colored past. Between the aesthetics and the prefab tradition, how could people not hate this thing. If you need swaying, read on. If you don’t, Merry Christmas you like minded bastard. Read on!

  First, the aesthetics. They harken back to a time before designers, polio vaccines and plastic. Which, ironically, that is what the elf’s perfect head is made from. The Elf on the Shelf’s expression is frozen in a “who me?” pose. You can almost hear the officer on the other side of the glass asking number three in the police line up to step forward. The same number held by the elf himself! However, in some cases it could be herself as the elf resources department is equal opportunity, as long as the elves are white or ethnically ambiguous brown. Next, the pointy little feet – as pointy as the seemingly hate group inspired hat upon its arian head – legs pour into feet due to a lack of ankles. Ankles that had to be broken in order to escape the shackles of justice of the Mexican prison the elf was held in. Which was not the last time the elf replaced its stuffing with cocaine and tried to cross the border. Just the only time it got caught.

  Second, the tradition. This is some other families tradition. Neatly boxed up with a book. The lousy movie is sold separately. I am sure, within the last four hundred years, there were other families who did similar things. But these go-getters were all, “I’m tired of being upper middle class on Christmas.” And have since started a new tradition of being rich! There are plenty of traditions and many of  them don’t cost forty bucks. The ones that do should get you drunk! Call me a cheap ass, but couldn’t you just make your own tradition, sans creepy doll? Your pediophobia laden child will thank you! How about a nice advent calendar, some hay for the reindeer or spaghetti sandwiches for Toy Boy, AKA Kakeman.

  Seriously, standing under the mistletoe, screaming the lyrics to “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer,” while sloshing what little is left of your eleventh Jack, with all of your friends and family standing around you doing the hokey-pokey is a Christmas tradition. It is weird and possibly creepier than the damn elf, but it is one you made on your own! You did it! And when you look up to that shelf – as the oxygen deprived tears well up in your eyes, as you belt out the third rendition, as you find yourself  profoundly moved by your friends shaking it all about – and you spy that mother-stuffing elf on your shelf. The one you bought to be ironic because you are such a hipster. Grab it! Make it quick and clean. Hold it firmly so it doesn’t run. Have a friend open the door. And lastly, look it straight in the eyes say “I voted for Dukakis!” Then punt it out on the freshly fallen snow. Boom! Elf punting! New tradition! Merry Christmas!