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Category Archives: Canada

Fuck you, I won’t drink what you tell me!

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Molson recently bought the local Montenegrin brewery, Niksicko

The standard Nik bottle has been 500 ml


Now, restaurants are pushing 330 ml bottles, which are, of a sudden, priced higher the the 1/2 litre bottles ever were

The smaller bottles are now green, instead of the traditional brown, an obvious attempt to bamboozle rubes into thinking there is something different in the more expensive bottles.

i suspect this odious gambit will soon spread into the local stores

if it does, i will, i kid you not, appear at the Canadian embassy and threaten to douse myself in nik and light myself on fire.


Fuck you, I won’t drink what you tell me!

Fuck you, I won’t drink what you tell me!

Fuck you, I won’t drink what you tell me!

Fuck you, I won’t drink what you tell me!

Fuck you, I won’t drink what you tell me!

Fuck you, I won’t drink what you tell me!

Fuck you, I won’t drink what you tell me!

Fuck you, I won’t drink what you tell me!

Fuck you, I won’t drink what you tell me!


Let this be the last year of the NHL

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It’s one of the oldest jokes I know. Every hockey fan in Canada has heard at least as far back as when I was a kid, back in the 70s – You know it’s autumn when the Leafs are falling; you know it’s spring when the Leafs are out.

Bye bye Trawna.

leaf fairy

See you next year, losers.

Despite the fact that the only thing I like about Trawna is Rob Ford

ford shirt

I would like to see the Leafs make the playoffs a little more often. And fuck me dead! the last time a Canadian team won the cup was when my Habs beat the Gretzky Kings in 93. Gretzky’s Kings beat the Leafs in a semi final that went to seven games, depriving Canadians of a Habs/Leafs final.

habs kid punches leafs kid

There has not been an all Canadian Cup final since original six expansion in 68.

original six

12 teams

That sorry story has to change.

Yes, I do have a plan. My plan would mean that there would never be another all Canadian Cup final, but it would also mean that there will always be a 50/50 chance that there would be at Canadian team facing off for hockey’s Holy Grail.

But bear with me a minute, while I give y’all some background.

Between 68 (expansion past the original six) and 93, Canadian teams won the Stanley Cup 16 times.

68, 69, 71, 73, 76, 77, 78, 79, 86, 93

68, 69, 71, 73, 76, 77, 78, 79, 86, 93

84, 85, 87, 88, 90

84, 85, 87, 88, 90



In the same period, American teams won 10 cups.

In that time span Canadian teams lost in the finals twice.





Canadian teams won the Cup six straight years, from 86 to 90.

Since the Habs skated away with Lord Stanley’s silver chalice last, in 93,

habs 93

Canadian team,s have reached the finals only five times. Four of those five times, our champions broke our hearts n game seven (Canucks 94 and 11, Flames 04, Oilers 06 – the Sens lost to the Ducks in five games, in 07).

This year, the only Canadian team to make the playoffs are the Habs. Who will win the Cup this year. But, if I had my way, there would be four Canadian teams, including the Leafs, in this year’s playoffs. And there would be four Canadian teams in the playoffs every year.  And four American teams. And four Russian teams. And four European teams.

I first came up with this scheme when it was evident that the 05/05 lockout was coming to an end. Tampa Bay had beaten Calgary in the 04 finals,

I don't ever wanna see that filthy rodent laying his greasy claws on the stanley Cup ever again. I'd rather see him molesting children

I don’t ever wanna see that filthy rodent laying his greasy claws on the Stanley Cup again. I’d rather see him molesting children

before the relationship between owners and players got very cold and the ice melted.

The work stoppage created a fantastic opportunity to make significant improvements to what had become a god-awful product. And even with all the “improvements” invoked since hen, we are still stuck with the same mediocre, damn-near-impossible-to-follow league we had when the Lightning skated off the ice with the Stanley Cup.

The idea that a team from Tampa Bay could win the Stanley Cup is proof positive that the NHL has mutated into a creature that no hockey fan can understand. That Carolina and Anaheim have won it since gives me an aneurysm. The Tampa Bay – Calgary series was a great final only because Calgary was in it. But would anyone have watched so much as a period if Tampa Bay had played Nashville for the Cup? The answer to that question is FUCK NO!

Can any hockey fan get excited by the prospect of one day seeing Carolina playing Anaheim in the finals? How about Phoenix vs. Columbus? Doesn’t that give you goose pimples just thinking about it?

As can be said for many things in the world, the biggest problem with the NHL is Mairka.

To steal your shit, rape your women and kill you?

To steal your shit, fuck your women and kill you?

There are far too many teams in places they don’t belong.

Hockey is never gonna make it in markets where it has to compete with this for the attention of males in January

Hockey is never gonna make it in markets where it has to compete with this for the attention of males in January

That fact, more than even the neutral zone trap, has made an NHL season an eight-month borefest. If hockey is going to gain back its title as the world’s greatest game, radical steps have to be taken because expansion into places like Florida, California and Arizona has made the NHL the worst professional sports league in the world.

The solution is simple — scrap the NHL and start over. Create a truly International Hockey League by having a North American conference and a European conference. Twelve teams in each conference, two divisions of six within the conferences.

Kill off the Canucks (Vancouver isn’t really part of Canada, anyway. If you can’t, at noon on January 1, flood the main intersection of a town and play hockey an hour later, you’re not in Canada and you sure as Hell can’t do that in Raincouver). Move the Sens to Quebec City (The Battle of Ontario is a Herlequin Romance

battle of ontario

compared to the Battle of Quebec).

battle of quebec

Nuke all but Chicago, Detroit, New York (Rangers), Minnesota (make them the North Stars again), Colorado and Philadelphia south of the border.

(Yes, Boston fans, no more big, bad Bruins. What’s the point? They’re never going to beat the Habs in the playoffs again, anyway, so why bother?)

Six teams in Russia.

Plus Stockholm, Helsinki, Prague, Berlin, Munich, Zurich.

euro hockey

Another problem with the NHL is that there are too many games in a season. We don’t need 82 games.

The IHL season would be 68 games long. Each team plays its conference rivals twice at home and twice on the road, for a total of 44 conference games. All teams make one swing through the other continent, playing all 12 teams once.

This will create a genuine sense of expectation for each and every game for the home fans.



Wouldn’t fans be happier to shell out their money to see a team from mysterious and exotic St. Petersburg, Berlin or Prague than a bunch of lunch-buckets from Columbus, Dallas or Washington?

At the end of the 68-game season, four teams in each conference are eliminated. Canadian champs play the American champs for the right to contest the Stanley Cup against the European champs.

In the IHL, a Canadian team would do battle with a pack of hockey infidels from the good old U.S. of A.

Ice Hockey - Winter Olympics Day 14 - United States v Canada

for the honour of battling the champions of Europe for the greatest and most prestigious trophy in sport every year.

That’s drama, intrigue, rivalry, patriotism. That’s what can make this once great game great again.

And, even if the Canadian champions were to lose to the hated Americans once in a while, a final between Minnesota and Moscow is still going to be more compelling than a Florida- San Jose final.

Let’s face it, hockey fans, the NHL sucks. Hockey deserves better than the NHL. Hockey fans deserve better than the NHL. Hockey fans on both sides of the Atlantic deserve an International Hockey League.


This is how sports haters are wrong

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A good friend of mine, who I grew up with, a sports hater, posted this right after the game yesterday:

“WE didnt win anything, just a group of strangers hitting a piece of rubber around on ice being admonished by a corrupt organization… Just sayin… “

to which I replied”

“So wrong, you are”

He asked me to explain how we was wrong, so I told him:

As absurd as it seems. this ad explains my position very well

But you won’t understand

You seem to believe that humans are incapable of forming bonds. that there is no such thing as brotherhood, sisterhood, humanity.

Because YOU are not part of US, WE do not, cannot, exist

When you go to a performance by a musical group that you admire, you understand that the people who conspired to put on the show, from the promoter to the stage hands, did so for no other reason than personal gain. The people that attended the show with you were not a part of anything. You and they did not create an experience. It was all about the performers and nothing but the performers

Hey, you may be correct,

But i don’t think so

I hope not, because the logical extension of this fallacy of yours, this cynical delusion that you cling to, is that your own son must be viewed as nothing more than a dependent parasitic life form that will abandon and reject you as soon as it is capable of doing so.

As you say, reality is not for the squeamish. but if this is your reality, it’s a very sad one, and I am truly sorry for you.

Marina ponders caveman and hockey

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Marina’s classic line for today, while watching the game: between the first and second periods, Cherry was talking about mis-communication between our D

Marina asks, “Do our guys get to talk to each other in the game, or do they just make grunting noises at each other?”

This, Canada, is how you get a hate-on for Sweden

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It’s really hard to get a hate-on for Sweden. I’ve been trying since Friday, and despite the Swedish atrocities I am about to reveal to you, I still don’t feel the bile rising in the back of my throat when I think about the silly Swedes and their goofy yellow costumes.

The Swedes have never harmed Canada. They sure as fuck have never harmed a Canadian on the ice because, well because, they’re Swedes and they just don’t play that game. We, on the other hand, have committed some heinous crimes on the ice. In 72, Bobby Clarke was told by assistant coach John Ferguson tha tthe Soviet star Valerie Kharlamov needed, “A tap on the ankle.”

The hockey-mouthed kid from Flin Flon


did as he was told.

Much has been made over the years about the Game 6 incident. The Soviets claimed that Clarke broke Kharlamov’s ankle. But watch that video again and you will notice that Kharlamov doesn’t even go down. Kharlamov missed Game 7 but was back on the ice, and skating pretty damned will for a guy with a broken ankle , in Game 8 If Clarke really did break Kharlamov’s ankle, and Kharlamov missed only one game, it’s more proof to my idea that the Soviet players were not human, that they were manufactured in the bowels of the Kremlin, along with all sorts of other, evil, lifeless things.

Then there was the time when Mark Messier split Vladimir Kovin’s head open with the most brutal elbow to be thrown on a sheet of ice since Gordie Howe hung ’em up for good. It was the 84 Canada Cup. Round robin game. Kovin is ragging the puck around his net, with his fucking head down, and Messier gives him a little Welcome to Canada

The Soviets won that game, 6 – 3, but we beat them a couple days later, in the semi final, 3 – 2, and them went on tho beat the Swedes  the final, 5 – 2.

Clarke and Messier are Canadian hockey heroes. Both of them are in the Hall of Fame. And, while I’m not saying what they did was right, I will say that I would have done the same. And in a very sick way, I’m proud of them. Hey, what do you want? You want me to lie and say I ripped up their cards when they did what needed to be done? I may be a monster, but I’m an honest one.

So far as I know, we’ve never given the Swedes the Soviet treatment on the ice. Not when they are playing for their national team, at least. But Borje Salming took a Hell of a lot of abuse when he and Inge Hammerstron became the first Europeans to pay in the NHL. The Swedes came into the NHL when the league was at its ugliest. His first season with the Leafs was 73 – 74. The Broad Street Bullies (aka the Philadelphia Flyers) won their first of back-to-back cups that year. The Flyers were so violent that they made the Big Bad Bruins look like.. well, like Swedes, in comparison.

Salming was hacked, slashed, punched, speared, spat on, run over, mocked and booed from the moment he geared up to play for the Toronto Maple Leafs. He once got kicked in the face, probably by accident, that opened him up for 250 stitches


None of which ever knocked him off his course to the Hockey Hall of Fame.. Throughout it all, Salming never turned ugly. He just kept playing hockey.


The NHL has been the home for Sweden’s best players for thirty or forty years now, and I can’t think of one that was a violent miscreant like our heroes, Clarke and Messier, were. So, back to the dilemma – how do I get a hate-on for the Swedes? How do I get so blind with hockey passion that I can pump a fist in the air and say “FUCKIN’ EH!” if it should come to pass that Ryan Getzlaf finds it necessary to elbow one of the Sedin sisters into next week, in the next couple hours?

Is it necessary for me to become an ugly Canadian? Well, in a way, it is. I only ever get rally excited about hockey when it’s best on best international hockey for all the pucks. Which only happens once every four years. When the puck is dropped, for realsies, for keepsies, I want to milk it for every bit of electricity I can get out of it. There are two kinds of joy. One is good, the kind when you celebrate your team’s victory. The other is bad, when you celebrate the other team’s defeat. It’s a sporting yin and yang. There’s an almost Zen balance to it. It’s kinda like fucking your girlfriend’s bets friend – sure, it’s wrong, but it’s real, and it feels oh so good, at least when you’re immersed in it.

Fortunately, for you, my fellow Canadians, I come from Fin stock. My old man’s family were Finns. And Finns know more about just how ugly Swedes are than anyone else in the world. Take this, for example: It was a Swedish armaments company that made most of the guns the Finns used to fight the Soviets in WW 2.


The Swedes also made the bullets for the rifles, and sold them to their Nordic bothers in arms.  Te bullets were the wrong caliber. The guns could not fire them. Now, in a perverted, Canadian hickey kinda way, that’s kinda funny. And the Swedes laughed all the way to the bank over the joke.  But, if not for the grand stand against Stalin that was made by the Finns, Swedes would be speaking Russian today. Eve in this hockey tournament, it took the Finns to again beat down the rotten Russians. The Swedes would have been slaughtered by the Russians.

Now, here’s a direct quote from wikipedia aboout thse lovely neutral Swedes and their heroic efforts to defeat the fascists in WW2

“During the German invasion of the Soviet Union, Sweden allowed the Wehrmacht to use Swedish railways to transport (June–July 1941) the German 163rd Infantry Division along with howitzers, tanks and anti-aircraft weapons and associated ammunition, from Norway to Finland.”

Good guys, these Swedes, huh?

It should come as little surprise that the Swedes gave the Nazis a free pass because they had some things in common. The Nazi ideal of a blond haired, blue eyed master race


has its roots in Scandanavia. And like the Nazis, the Swedes were big fans of forced sterilization.

Now, let’s fast forward it to today and let me drop a name on you – Juilan Assange



A man stands up and defies BIG BROTHER. For the good of us all. Uncle Sam looks around and says, “Who will help us crush this monster?”

And the Swedes drop to their knees and say, “Me! Pick me! I’ll suck your dick, Uncle Sam! I love you, Uncle Sam!” The Swedes contrive a bogus charge and Assange will spend the rest of his life inside  the  Ecuadorean Embassy in London.

Fuck Sweden.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck Sweden! Fuck their pussy brand of passive aggressive, politically correct hockey. C’mon guys, get out there and show them how real men play the game.

I could, if I had time, tell you much more about the evil Swedes, but we’re just a half hour from puck drop, and I need to fetch some pivo from yonder market and get lubricated, so if you’re not already convinced, you’ll just have to take my word for it when I tell you that there are many good reasons to hate Sweden today.

Wait, this just came in from Julian Assange. He’s been busy working on something for the Swedes



Latvian reflections on a black day for Putin

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Teddy Nolan and his Latvian guys are gonna dine out on the goal they scored against us, for the rest of their lives. They’ll be singing folk songs about it in Riga for a thousand years.

If you missed it, it is, without a doubt, the coolest goal I have ever seen:

I know you’re thinking, ‘What’s so cool about that?’ but that’s because you can’t see all the clever in that clip.

I’ll try to find a better lip but the IOC can be real motherfuckers about what stays circulating, so let me explain:

The faceoff is just outside the Latvian blueline. We killed them on faceoffs all day, so them even winning a draw is close to a miracle. But they did.

The puck goes back to their d-man. When it does, their other d-man goes to the bench. He goes off the ice using the door that closest to his net. His replacement comes onto the ice through the door closest to our net, about 50 feet  away from the back door.

No one sees him. Well, no Canadian sees the sneaky motherfucker.

The pass goes to him. He’s way past our D. I swear, Carey Price was still saying WTF? when the dude juked him and hoisted a backhander top shelf.

Absolutely brilliant! So good it’s funny.

Naturally, I couldn’t laugh at it until 12 hours after the game was over, and probably would not even be writing about it, had the tricky Latvians pulled off a miracle and torpedoed us.

Maybe we can pull that one off against the Yanks? Using PK Subban as the guy who comes off the bench and scores? And laugh, “Yeah, you didn’t notice him, huh?”


Marina watched the last period with me. It was a white-knuckler for her.

marina 1

When the ref raised his hand to indicate a coming penalty to the Latvians, the powerplay that Weber scored on to win the game, the puck went back into our end. Price, of course, was skating to the bench. The camera caught Price’s dash.

Not knowing anything about hockey, Marina was vexed. Jim Hughson announced, “Carey Price heads to the bench….”

Marina started yelling, really yelling, “Carey Price! What are you doing? Carey Price, come back! Get back to the cage! Honey, what’s wrong with Carey Price?!”

“It’s okay, honey, he has to go to the bathroom. He has this condition. It’s okay, we know what to do, and it’s better than having Bobby Lu in the net, anyway.”

When Weber scored, Marrina jumped out of her seat, pumped her fist in the air and yelled, “Take that, evil, tricky Latvians!”

For the rest of the game she repeated her mantra, “You! Get away from our cage! Get away! Hit him! Hit him with your stick! Honey, why don’t our guys hit the evil, tricky Latvians with their sticks?”

marina 2

And, once in a while, she would ask, “Where’s my boyfriend, Sidney Crosby?” To which I would answer, “Everyone in Canada is asking the same fucking question. Wouldn’t you rather have a big, beautiful black boyfriend, like PK Subban?”

All of which reminded me of the first hockey game that Marina ever watched. It was in the Vancouver Olympics, Canada vs Russia quarter final.

Just a couple minutes into the game, one of our guys drilled a Russian, knocking him flying. Marina jumped up and yelled, “Hit him! Knock him down! Rip his costume off and see how much money he has!”

Alas, Marina does not think she will be able to watch any more hockey this year. She does not think her heart can stand it. She wonders how Canadians can survive such stress. I tell her, “Beer!”

Should she change her mind, I’ll pass along any bon mots proffered by the girl!


Now that our girls have, again, conquered the infidel Mairkans – nya nya nya-nya nya, our lesbians are better than your lesbians –

2 inches

I think we should throw it down to Putin: our girls against your guys.

If we win, you have to stop oppressing queers.

If we lose, you get to fuck Hayley Wickenheiser


What do you say, big guy? That’s as close as you’re ever gonna get to hockey gold.


Game on! Drop the puck!

Subban to Babcock: It’s oh k k k, boss, I’ll sit in the stands again

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PK Subban pleads his case to be included in the line up for Friday's semi-final against the US to Team Canada brass

PK Subban pleads his case to be included in the line up for Friday’s semi-final against the US to Team Canada brass

If Canada had a tabloid newspaper that was worthy of being called a tabloid, this picture would be on the front page today.

If the exact same set of circumstances were in play in England, for football, or Mairka, for baseball, there would be race riots going down.

In England, The Sun, or maybe The Mirror, would have created the same pic and sent it out on Twitter. It would go super nova viral immediately, and the tabs would have a field day. An editor smart enough to come up with this would also be smart enough to have the first edition on the trucks before he put the pic out into the Twitterverse, of course, so his competition had no chance of getting it for their first editions.

Can you imagine – you being anyone who knows anything at all about Bumblefuck, football, and the gutter press – England fielding a team of white guys who get through to the World Cup semi finals by winning every game on penalties, while a bona fide black superstar, the only one on the team, doesn’t even dress? Brixton would burn.

Now, let’s take this story to the other side of the Atlantic, to Mairka. Baseball. No… wait, let’s call it basketball, because they actually send their best players to play international basketball, unlike baseball. It’s the Olympics. The Yanks, using all white boys, have won all their games. In overtime. Sitting in the stands is a black kid who blocks 12 shots a game, collects 15 rebounds, and scores double figures, some of those points coming from sublime three-pointers.

Al Sharpton, Louis Farrakhan, and Jessie Jackson would be screaming for the heads of every honky member of the team’s management. The White House would HAVE TO intervene. And the Yanks don’t care about basketball half as much as Canadians care about hockey.

Now, I’m not saying that Babcock and Yzerman are racists. Not for a second do I believe that. But, HOLY FUCKING JESUS FUCKING PRICE, am I ever tempted to stir that shit pot just to get those two to say, “Hey, maybe we should play PK, instead of dressing Hamhuis and keeping him on the bench.”

What the flying fuck are they thinking? Dan Hamhuis didn’t get a shift in the third period against Latvia (nor did Martin St. Louis). Why? Because Babcock was worried that he’d fuck up and the Latvians would score because of his fuck up? Fuck no. Hamhuis rode the pine because he’s not likely to add anything to the offense.

HELLO? Subban is the most dangerous defenseman to play the game since Paul Coffey (go ahead, say he’s dangerous on both ends of the ice, you racist assholes). And he’s sitting in the stands so Dan Fucking Hamhuis can sit on the bench and scratch his balls? What the fuck?!

Unless he gets a career-ending injury, PK Subban will be inducted into the Hockey Hall of Fame one day. Ten years from now, no one will remember the name Dan Hamhuis.

Now, with John Tavares out of the tournament, and the rest of the NHL season, only one of our players will not dress for the game against the Yanks. And that’s going to be PK Subban? Are you fucking kidding me? So he can watch Dan Fucking Hamhuis and Martin St. Louis sitting on the bench and pulling slivers out of each other’s asses?

Again, I’m not playing the race card. I won’t stoop to that. And it’s a testament to the tolerance of Canadians that no one is calling Babcock, Yzerman et al. bigots, but it’s fuckin’ eh tempting because this is just plain stupid.

That said, we are gonna beat the Yanks on the morrow, no matter  how nervous and hysterical I may sound right now.

The case for dressing PK Subban and putting him on Crosby’s wing

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I want to make it perfectly clear that I am confident we are going to win hockey gold again on Sunday. I am always confident about that. If we should find ourselves trailing by three goals with 30 seconds left in regulation time, I will be thinking BILL MOSIENKO.

So this is not a desperate prayer that I am throwing out in the faint hope that Mike Babcock hears me and heeds my advice when I say to him DRESS PK SUBBAN. Yes, we will win gold, with or without Subban on the ice. But the battle will be more entertaining with PK on the ice than it will be with him hiding wherever it is we hide our guys who don’t dress.

Play Subban on a line with Crosby would make things even more entertaining. Seriously. Move Subban off the point and put him on Crosby’s wing.

The biggest reason Subban was not dressed for two of the three preliminary round games is that he gambles. Everyone is shit-scared that he’s gonna gamble and lose and it’s gonna cost us a goal, the game, and our gold. But that possibility, slim as it already is, becomes even more improbable if he’s playing up front, right?

Our biggest problem is not going to be goals against. Our D is too good for that to happen. Our problem could be lack of scoring. Can anyone say that PK lacks offensive ability? Fuck no. Is anyone clicking with Crosby? Fuck no.

If you can move a forward to the point ion the powerplay, why can’t you move an offensive d-man to a forward position?

If you think it’s an interesting idea, but believe that elevating him to the ‘first line’ is too much, let him be the 13th forward. Let him and Marty St. Louis take turns playing the wing on a line centerd by Taveres. Or Bergeron. Or whoever. Just put him up there and see what happens.

Chara is the only guy in the tournament who would be able to muscle Subban if we send him in front of the net, and we ain’t likely to see Chara anyway. Subban will drive opposing d-men insane. Think Dustin Byfuglien with twice the talent.

Here’s something else to consider. It’s late in a tie game. One of our less offensively talented d-men gets an opening, one of those once0-n-a-lifetime holes that seem  to have been created by the hockey Gods themselves. If Subban is playing power forward, our guy is going to KNOW that his ass is covered, and go for the gusto. Perhaps the gold medal winning gusto. If, on the other hand, Cory Perry is where Subban should be, our guy says, “No fucking way, am I risking it.”

Last thing to consider, Canada – if I’m right, and this happened, and it worked, would it not be one of the greatest hockey stories ever? Subban and Crosby making like Gretzky and Lemieux in ’87? Huh? Do you like that? Who the fuck would not love to see that? I mean, other than John Perkins, who doesn’t care whether we win or lose, and who would happily trade his Canadian passport for a Bobby Orr’s jockstrap?

Puckheads: the ugly Canadians

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In a recent FB debate about the value of Canadian citizenship a fiend asked me if I love my country. My reply was in the negative. It’s been a dysfunctional relationship. Sometimes abusive. I refuse to give unconditional love to any entity that gives me scraps of obligatory love in return. And, frankly, the country is going in directions I don’t care for.

But I did follow that up by confessing that I will always love Canadian hockey. I wrote, “In the immortal words of Muhammad Ali, ‘Ain’t no hockey game ever called me nigger.'”

I was inferring that hockey had never done me wrong, which isa fib. Hockey did me much more good than it did harm, and I do love hockey, Canadian hockey, but there is a n ugly ugly side to hockey, and all tea sports for that matter. Hockey did, in fact, ‘call me nigger.’ Yes, I do like that line, and I may use it again before I put a 30 on this missive, but I have used it again, already, not just because I like the line, but because it’s a perfect segue into today’s lesson, whicj is the darkk side of hockey. Anmd the timing could not be better because todayu, in just two hours, PK Subban makes his Olympic debut (he fuckin’ eh better be in our lineup or I’m gonna… oh fuck, I don’t know).

But before we move on from the segue, I must first impose a digression that will amuse you – First Star (for a prognosticating colour commentator), on the first day of the men’s Olympic hockey tourney, goes to Chris Green, who, after learning the Finns had pumped eight goals past the Austrians, boldly predicted and quipped that we ill have no trouble with the Austrians today because, “obviously, their defense hasn’t improved any since 1938,” –


and that, boys and girls, is a joke Iwill steal from Chris and use against the French in this summer’s World Cup.

Okay, on with the show.

PK Subban is the most exciting defenseman to lace ’em up since Paul Coffey. He won the Norris Trophy for being the best defenseman in the NHL last year, and no one was arguing with that choice. He skates like Coffey, or maybe even Bobby Orr. As Danny Gallivan would have put it, Subban has ‘a canonating slapshot.’ He quarterbaks the Habs powerplay like a virtuoso conductor. He shoots. He scores. In short, he is custom built for the large Sochi ice surface. But he was a healthy scratch from yesterday’s lineup.

Subban does have a fault – he can get sloppy with the puck and give it away, while trying to be too Orr. Not often. But wheh he does, his critics POUNCE on him.

In yesterday’s game, Alex Pietrangelo coughed the puck up and it lead to a scoring chance for Norwegia. The Scandinavians did not score. If Subban had done that, the puckheads would be demanding that he be sent home. On a bus. Maybe a donkey.

Why? Why all the hate on PK?


It’s not just because he’s black. Grant Fuhr


and Jerome Iginla


never took so much shit in their entire careers (Iginla is still playing) as Subban has in just a few years on the Habs’ blueline.

Although his skin is darker than the two aforementioned superstars, Subban does not get a thousand times the grief other hockey players do because of his race (although that does play a part in this stupidity). No, PK s Subban gets shat on constantly because he’s a hotdog.

pk 2

A showboat.

pk 3

Because he’s different and he dares to be himself, instead of conforming. And that’s the ugliest thing about hockey. Uglier than fighting (which doesn’t bother me a bit), uglier than puckhead parents, uglieer than the fucking neutral zone trap, uglier than Alex Ovechkin.


PK Subban is a showman. He plays the game with more demonstrable enthusiasm than anyone I can remember, except maybe Eddy Shack


and Tiger Williams


(neither of whom had shit rained down 0n them for being hotdogs, quite the contrary, in fact, which is proof that Subban haters are more racist than they’d ever admit).

A few weeks back Subban scored a brilliant goal to beat the Senators in overtime. And he had the audacity to celebrate the goal. He skated towards the crowd, about half of whom were Habs fans, tugged his jersey’s CH crest away from his chest showing it to the crowd. And for this crime, Subban was vilified by puckheads from coast to coast to coast. There would not have been more grousing inthe Canadian press if Princess Di came back to life and showed up at the Vatican sporting camel toe.

camel toe

Leading the lynch mob was none other than Don Cherry. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! Cherry is a dead-on fucking peacock.

cherry 1

cherry 2

He’s a loud-mouthed schnook. I happen to like him. Mostly. But Cherry is the personification of conformist puckheads who I so loathe.

I Canada, you’re not allowed to be yourself, if you’re a born showman, especially not if you’re an athlete. I’ve said it before a million time and I’ll say it again right now – if Muhammad Ali had been a Canadian, Canadians would have been ashamed of him. Good ole boys like Cheery would have been demanding that he be stripped of citizenship. It was, in fact, good ole boys like Cherry who through Ali in jail for refusing to go to Vietnam, famously saying, “Ain’t no Vietcong ever called me nigger.”

ali arrest

I was a pretty good athlete when I was a kid. I was also a freak. I wasn’t the only kid who played sports and dropped acid, smoked pot, and drank like a drunk,but I was the best athlete of the lot, at least in my era, in Thunder Bay, if I do say so myself.  But it didn’t matter how good I was, and I won my share of individual awards, some fucker was always busting my ass to cut my hair and conform. Here’s a quick passage from something I wrote a couple years ago about my experience as a teenaged sports weirdo

I can’t imagine Coach was much of a Christian but, like most, he was enough of one to loathe the upside down pentagram I religiously wore around my neck back then. Once, when I was dressing for a game, I caught him staring at it. He was transfixed. Completely lost in thought (or something akin to thought, anyway). It took him ten or fifteen seconds to realize that I’d stopped dressing and was staring at him. He snapped out of it, shot me a dirty look and shook his head before announcing, “Okay, big game tonight, guys. Yeast, you’re in net. Give him a good warm-up, we need these two points,” and leaving the room.

And he hated my long hair. Oh, how he hated my long hair.

If we lost a game it was because I had long hair. Never mind that I’d blocked 10 shots, gotten two assists and had a positive plus/minus. The other guys on the team would not, could not, follow the lead of a guy with long hair because – as he once told me, after he’d had a few too many at some hockey related social event – “There’s something wrong about a boy with long hair. It just ain’t right, Salmi.”

On the way home from a preseason practice that year, my old man told me, “Coach says you need to get a hair cut. He’s going to make you captain.” 

I told my old man, “Coach can go fuck himself. I’ll quit. I’ll get my card back and rip it up into a million pieces and go play in Port Arthur.” 

Every year it was a new set of assholes who were trying to ‘make a man out of me.’ Every year I told them all to go fuck themselves. I can’t imagine what it would have been like if I’d had Subban’s talent and skin colour and my attitude and personality. They would have destroyed me. I never would have made it to the bigs.

Subban’s not even a weirdo. At least not that I know of. Once in a while we see genuine weirdos who are so fucking good at the sports they play that they cannot be beaten down by the conformist good ole boys.

Bill Spaceman Lee


was the starting pitcher for the Boston Red Sox in Game 7 of the 1975 World Series. He was also the Rhino Party’s candidate in the 1988 US Presidential election. His running mate was Hunter S Thompson.

Ricky Williams


won the Heisman Trophy in 1998 and was the fifth player taken in the 1999 NFL draft. He could have been the greatest runningback in the history of the NFL, but he fucked it all off because he wanted to smoke weed and study Buddhism.

Dennis Rodman


won 5 NBA Championships. He was a 2x All Star and a 2x Defensive Player of the Year. The Worm, a prolific and relentless party-HARD gash-hound, was a tattooed freak, who often dyed his hair in colours that made KKK dipshit hillbillies shoot their TVs.

All three of these guys had ‘KISS-MY-ASS you honky motherfuckers’ talent. As does Subban. If PK was even one tenth as freaky as these guys, he would not be in Sochi today. He would not even have made it to the bigs because they puckhead assholes would have destroyed his spirit. They would have busted his balls until he quit. They would have crushed him.

That sickening, conformist jock mentality is the worst ting about sports. It’s not invited to the people involved directly in sports. It’s the media, too.

jock talk

Young athletes consume a lot of sports media and every time they do, they are told, sometimes quietly, sometimes very loudly, what is, and what is not, acceptable. What is not acceptable is to be yourself, at least if you’re even a little bit of a social deviant, an individual. Once again, I have muck more to say on the topic but this is up at almost 1700 words and were minutes away from kicking Austrian ass, so I’m gonna park it for now.

Tell Putin and the Russians to check their horoscope, ’cause we ain’t telling ’em shit

Posted on

Caught a BBC WS story this morning about the men’s hockey tourney, which began yesterday today. The story was about the pressure the Russians are under, it being their home ice. They interviewed Jonathon Toews,


and asked him, having bee there and DONE that, what advice he’d give the Russians

In a dead serious, ‘We’re not here to fuck around,” tone, Toews answered, “I ain’t givin’ no advice to the Russians.”

Fuckin’ eh! Atta boy. Game on!

I wonder if the reporter did enough homework to know that ‘Captain Serious’ would be the perfect guy to ask that question, or if he just got lucky.