Colony of Losers- Fuck Stigma and Mental Illness, I'm like 25

Surviving your Quarter Life Crisis and becoming an adult

Holy Fuck: Mike Kimber saved the life of a baby dolphin!

Posted on | April 1, 2011 | 5 Comments

Holy fuck!

I saved the life of a dolphin.

You heard me right.

I, Michael Kimber, the man behind Colony of Losers, the maestro of tears and laughter, saved the life of a baby dolphin.  You probably don’t believe me and think I have gone off my meds and am concocting a tale to make you belly laugh and forget your troubles.

I’m not.

So I was sitting on Bloor Street, just outside the Gladstone library when a gigantic truck stopped and men got out. They were headed for Pop Eye’s and the smell of great tasting chicken that would eventually fill their guts with toxins and make their long journey feel extremely uncomfortable.

“I love fried chicken,” said one of the two drivers.

“We’ll be right back. Chicken run,” said the other driver.

Muffled voices answered from the back of the truck.

So there I was sipping a Junior Juice watching the day unfold.  Do you remember Junior Juice?  Small little packet of orange juice with a picture of a turtle prince on the front?  Well I’d found my supply of junior juices at a local convenience store and was sipping them down like a child champion. One after the other. Enjoying the feel of the spring sunshine on my powder pale face.

There were three packets of junior juice lying next to me and a fifth waiting for the right moment. The fourth is slowly being drained with a satisfying sucking sound as I notice a large puddle emerging from the gigantic truck.

I sniff.

No oil.  Just water. Why do they have so much water on board?

The gigantic truck has a Fed Ex symbol, with the words Shed Acquarium written underneath and what must be some sort of swimming pool inside of it.  I can hear whispering from inside the truck. I think there may have been curse words.  Wasn’t any of my business. I don’t have the authority to tell the drivers to get back to the truck and fix the leak. They needed to get their chicken and I wasn’t going to interfere.

Then this strange sound began to emerge from inside that sort of reminded me of a vacuum cleaner weeping.  Frantic human voices responded with curses in a language I didn’t quite understand. I believe the accent is called American Midwest.  Indecipherable.

“He is in trouble.”

Still not my business.

I watch a young couple make out against the library doorway. They are basically having sex behind my back. Lots of aggressive touching and porno tonguing. I think they are probably between 13-15 and aren’t really at the age where common decency has become a part of their lives.

“Fuck, fuck! Fuck!” comes from the inside of the truck.

I’m curious but I’m not going to do anything just yet.

I have another junior juice to finish and a Sex Ed lecture to contemplate. How do you tell complete strangers about safe sex? Would it be wrong to give them a condom? I have one in my wallet. Might come in handy. Would that make me look like some sort of pervert? Especially with the Junior Juice packets in hand.  Better just keep drinking juice and ignoring this situation.  I don’t know much about having sex as a teenager. I had breasts when I was their age.

Someone is having a smoke next to the children as they engage in their shameless sex act. Near my house is a strip club called House of Lancasters. I have never been to a strip club. The thought is too unwholesome for my junior juice marathon.

I wonder if the guy smoking knows that he could be giving himself cancer.  Maybe he won’t get to see his children have children. These kids fucking against the wall are someone’s kids.  They used to go trick and treating and now they are having babies at a public library. Well…at least their parents can be happy that they don’t smoke.

“What are we going to do, Larry?” emerges from the van in a squeaking terrified voice. Yes they sound like they are from Pittsburgh.

Is it eavesdropping if I can clearly hear that these people need help?

I wonder if this fear of being awkward is what leads to so many crimes going unpunished underneath the very noses of Toronto’s citizenry? Does it matter if they think I’m rude? Maybe I could help them.  I often think I can help people when I can’t. I’m probably the worst at setting people up of anyone I have ever met. I’m sort of like Liz Lemon, giving stranger’s advice saying deal breaker over and over. But am I as sexy as Tina Fey? Probably not.

I should ask one of the girls at House of Lancasters what she thinks. It’d be nice to have someone lie to me in exchange for money.  I wonder how much one needs to have if they are going to a strip club. This strip club is across the street from a Thrift Store, which might hint at bargain basement lap dances.  I could really use a lap dance. Is that sexist?

“You bit my tongue, Billy.”

Nope, probably just desperate.


The junior juice is done. Time for my last one.

“Seriously Larry, what the fuck are we going to do?”

“They should be fine.  This is your first ride with the dolphins. You don’t know what’s normal. Just keep patting its head.”

“He doesn’t like it.”

“He does.”

“He doesn’t.”

“He does.”

“He doesn’t.”

So thirsty and refreshed.

The pool of water at the bottom of the truck is growing deeper with every second.

I hear an inhuman shriek come from the inside of the truck.


Fuck it.

It’s time for Super Quimbo to the rescue.

I run to the Pop Eye’s as fast as my little legs can carry me and jump inside.

For some reason I feel like lassy running to tell her owner that Timmy fell down a well.

The smell of biscuits and gravy is intoxicating and the customers are fascinating to look at. I’m salivating. Control yourself.  I can’t find the drivers but then I wasn’t look very closely when they made their way towards Pop Eye’s. I see one employee chewing their hair through a hairnet. I briefly wonder what’s the point of the hair net if you are just going to feast on your hair anyway?  Some dude is paying with nickels and quarters for a family meal.

I can’t find the drivers.  What did they look like?

Alright. May as well make a scene.

“This will sound strange,” I announce quite loudly to the busy store. “But does anyone have a job driving dolphins places?”

“I do,” says a voice, thick with half chewed chicken. Swallow. “Why do you ask?”

“The truck is leaking water. Your dolphin is in danger,” I say.

A few people in the restaurant burst into hysterical laughter.  I struggle to control my temper. This isn’t funny. A baby dolphin could die!  Don’t you understand?

They race back with me to the truck, leaving their chicken behind.  One of the drivers bangs his hand on the back of the truck.

“Daisy? Is everything ok in there?”

“He’s crying. Louie is crying.”

Louie must be the dolphin. Larry is the human.

The truck driver looks down at the soaking wet street.

“Don’t worry, Daisy. Everything is going to be just fine.”

He takes out his phone and begins dialing some emergency number.  I can’t quite imagine what number this would be but the driver seems fairly confident that he is doing the right thing.

Within a few moments emergency vehicles are on the way.

The truck driver looks at me and smiles.

“Thank you so much,” he says. “You probably saved this dolphin’s life. We are on our way to bring Louie back to his mother in Chicago. Just had surgery. This could have been it for him. I can’t thank you enough.”

So there you have it. I’m a hero. The man who saved a baby dolphin’s life and could drink five junior juices in fifteen minutes. I can already picture Louie and his mom swimming together.  It would make an adorable YouTube video.

I walk past the couple copulating in the cul de sac and make my way back into the library to tell you my story.

I’ve never been so proud of myself. I wanted to ask if there might be a reward but decided against. Sometimes being a great guy is reward enough.

Namaste douchebags.



5 Responses to “Holy Fuck: Mike Kimber saved the life of a baby dolphin!”

  1. Christine MacKenzie
    April 1st, 2011 @ 4:01 pm

    Enjoyed your story!

  2. Tracey
    April 3rd, 2011 @ 9:43 am

    Brilliant. As usual. Crap. Now I want Popeye’s chicken. Thanks Mike!

  3. Wendy
    April 10th, 2011 @ 5:25 pm

    Love your writing. More, please!

  4. Beth
    April 11th, 2011 @ 7:08 am

    Just discovered your blog after seeing a link to your You Tube poem via The Nutters Club off Facebook.
    Thank God for that because your writing is SO refreshing to read.
    You are bloody normal and not a brainwashed, sterile, PC freak!
    Yessss, there is hope from the other side of the world!
    Fuck Stigma, Fuck this box or triangle, or circle or whatever they try and dress it up as these days.
    Freedom to be, in all our greatness and madness.

  5. Diana
    April 2nd, 2014 @ 8:45 am

    Yayyyyyy dolphins!!
    Amazing! I love animals. So happy you were able to save him :)

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  • About

    Michael Kimber is a 26-year-old journalist who suffered a nervous breakdown on November 3rd, 2009. On March 28th, 2010 when he recovered from mental illness, he began writing a blog called Colony-of-losers. About falling on your face to figure out who you are and the hilarious antics of a blond jew. What began with a few friends and his mother reading has become a cult phenomenon, averaging 10,000 views a week, receiving praise from Commonwealth Award Winner Shandi Mitchell and many others. On, November 3rd, 2010, the one year anniversary of his mental breakdown he signed with Anne McDermid and Associates, the largest literary agency in Canada. In a year he went from wearing pajamas, making his couch depression HQ to leaving his hometown for the Toronto, where he exclusively wears business suits and the armor of ancient Greeks. Don't worry, he's still choking on the feet he contently sticks in his mouth and making moments awkward just by being part of them. During these struggles he met other talented bastards and drew them into his circle. Peter Diamond became his illustrator. Patrick Campbell his video editor and part time photographer. He recently added the incredibly talented John Packman as Colony of Losers Toronto photographer. Without the support of the Colony of Losers, Michael Kimber would be nothing. Welcome to the losers and the success that comes from utter and complete failure. You aren’t alone. Follow him on If you’d like to hire him for a public speaking engagement for mental health events in Toronto, like to arrange an interview, offer millions to publish his book or for another reason contact Michael please email him. And join his facebook Colony of Losers.

    Really obvious disclaimer:
    I’m not a trained psychologist. Just a fellow traveler. If you need help seek it from the professionals. The Canadian Mental Health Association provides a help locator. You can find crisis resources provided by the Canadian Association for Suicide Prevention. If you are in the states check here. It will give you services by zip code. I’d also recommend checking out I think they do great work and have been a help to me personally.

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