Calvin Smith was born in Southern Canada. We don't know where,
but it's all pretty much the same up there anyway, ice and trees.
Born into a poor family, he lived a hearty Canadian life: a daily
regimen of breakfast snow, lunchtime snow and evening snow. Soon
he was fit for the Royal Canadian Snowshoe Lumberjack Hockey Half-French
Igloo Poutine Ice Ice Baby Mounted Police (RCSLHHFIPIIBMP).
Words with the rest of his unit, about to feast on traditional
Canadian yellow snow cake
His excellent aim with a snowball resulted in his quick rising in the
ranks. Saving his superior from a rampaging beaver, he was awarded
the Maple Leaf of Bravery, (which he promptly ate, being the only remotely
edible solid in the area). This eventually led to him meeting the
Prime Minister, who asked him "Eh, comment es-tu, mon ami?" Unfortunately,
Calvin never paid attention in French class, and mistranslated it as "Hello,
small radish-head, I want you to pinecone my buttocks."
One of Words's favorite humans and military strategists
Sadly, the ensuing chaos led to Calvin's dishonorable discharge.
Now with no steady job, Calvin feared he'd be a prime candidate for drafting
into the army to go to the Korean War, so he fled Canada. Unfortunately,
he ran into the United States and ended up shipping off for the
war anyway.
A rare photograph of Words in his American army days,
when he used to "kill those greasy Commie bastards"
Enjoying the military for it's chance to "waste a bunch of filthy ingrates,"
Calvin stayed in the army, and did several tours in Vietnam, murdering
hundreds of Vietnamese, whether on our side or against valiantly
ridding the world of the evil Communist leeches that suck the freedom and
lifeblood from the planet.
Words's favorite movie character, Sergeant Hartman the
Drill Instructor
After losing the Vietnam war, leaving Vietnam because
we didn't feel like fighting any more, American soldiers were shipped home.
Calvin decided to return to Canada, longing for the frozen tundra which
he loved so much.
Words's new home and sanctuary. He built it himself.
He then decided upon a new quest in life, one that was beyond the tough
Canadian military life of packing snowballs--running a website on this
new battlefield, the Internet. Dedicating himself to "Clarity of
Words" (which is how he got his nickname), he created Nothing Sacred, and
now watches over his team of writers from his igloo, doling out his sage
advice, always hungry for clarity and truth.*
*and for his lunch; he never forgets the Canadian diet...
- Rob
(Note from Rob: Since all articles are read by Mr.
Smith before publishing, it's possible that some of this may have been
altered I'm a big fag. Heh heh, a big fag, that's funny...)
