A Tale Of Two Presidents

The difference between the last US President and the new one. As Obama kicks back and hoists one at the Bulls/Wizards tilt, we applaud his everyman sensibilities in taking a break from the domestic and global challenges presented to him in his new term of office. This candid still inspires, in his constituents, a sense confidence in his leadership and in his administration.

If this were a shot of Bush, we would all stick our heads in the oven knowing that the following day he would sign an order creating a new branch of government, one that grants federal policy making powers to big oil.

I tell ya, things were sure easier when MJ and Pippen were around...

Maniwaki Tower...We've Got Visual On A Couple Bogies

So it looks like there were a few of birds coming dangerously close to maple leaf airspace. During the Commander In Chief To The South's visit last week.

I, for one, can't be happier. Why?

Because it can only mean one thing.

The reformation of the mighty CCCP. Just in time for the 2010 Olympics. By June, I expect Malkin, Ovechkin, and Semin to be whisked off back home with the rest of their NHL country men, and made to practice in some secret communist hockey lab for 14 hours a day every day until next Feb.

мать Россия поднимется снова!!!!

The First Rays Of Spring

I'm not ready for baseball yet. I'm really not. Caught a half an inning of a Red Sox/Rays spring training game and wasn't ready to hunker down into the 09 season yet. However, two games into the Jays spring and Snider is hitting already. A double yesterday and a jack today. It's not like I'm watching or anything. I'm just saying...

Oly Folly

Oh fuck off.

Like some Anthony Robbins personal power profiteers, who charge astronomical fees for their new age spins on ancient zen yarns, are in any superior moral position to Phelps.

Hey, Mike. Getting "busted" was the best thing that ever happened to you. Let's see you read a page out of Bode's book and win 12 medals in London, suped up on pints of Guinness laced with DMT to help you commune with other worldly 8th dimensional entities. As said entities will help you bend the space-time continuum to make you appear at the other end of the pool after only one stroke in the lane.

Then let's see Dick Pound's IOC head spin.

Jays Spring Training Nation

I am bestowing on you a task of the highest order. One where you can channel all of the outrage and frustration at our seemingly futile 09 campaign. One where you can take aim at the free spending bourgeoisie and hit them square in their lying pin stripes. Yes, that's right:

Tomorrow in Dunedin. Jays Vs Yanks. And apparently A-Rod is in the line up.

Be relentless. Be searing. Be united. And show what life is going to be like in 09, outside of the protective confines of the Camp Steinbrenner, for juicers who continue to cork the truth.

Setting Up The I/O

Ok, a little sound geek humour here. Let's configure:

Out. Tom Renney getting the axe in NY as the Sather brings in Tortorella fresh off his current TSN stint. Will the combustible former Tampa coach pull the Rangers out of their current slide and ensure a play off spot? In a word, yes.

In. My new Maniwaki Mac Tower, pondered and purchased in record time. Stumbling across said device on a trip to get a new soccer ball for the dog, I debated for roughly 5 minutes and then decided that music production is so much more fun when one's tracks run smoothly and don't sputter and stop like some old Depression Era jalopy.

HQ will turn turn into the Batcave one day...



Yeahhhh Boyyeeeeee!!!!
Bring the noise...

Maniwaki Oscar Ticker

Look, I'm going to blatantly rip off Simmons from ESPN by doing a running diary of the Oscars, so don't give me any flack about it. So let's straighten the tie and step out of the limo and onto;

The Red Carpet

Most Stylish Starlet: On first glimpse it was Sarah Jessica Parker, but that was from a shot from afar on the E-talk Daily feed. Flipping over to the actual Oscars red carpet broadcast, her and hubby Ferris were interviewed in a close up and the award got revoked.

No Angelina won't win it either. One would think that her in a sleek black gown should seal the deal, but I'm not sold. Ever since she started on the Hollywood diet of oxygen, kelp and Virginia Slims she lost me. Plus the older she gets the more she looks like her old man, John Voigt. Can't do it. Bring back Lara Croft and we're in business.

Kate Winslet. One of the best actresses in Hollywood in addition to boasting one of the best racks in Hollywood, even Kate couldn't wrap it up. She's got what looks like some black hearts on her gown, and the Maniwaki paparazzi do not approve.

It's getting to the middle innings on the red carpet, so the bullpen will have to step it up because it's anyone's game. Where the fuck is Scarlett?

Man Of The Walk: Look, Bond has always been one of the suavest motherfuckers on the planet. You think you're going to out do him? Forget it. The only cats that might have a chance to throw down would be Tony Stark or Bruce Wayne and Stark has already shown up and had his jet boots backfire. Bale might be lurking around somewhere in the shadows but after his recent impression of Lou Pinella I can't see him owning the Oscar carpet this year.

Special mention goes to Mickey Rourke for not giving a fuck and showing up looking like some Venezuelan cocaine lord while sporting a locket with his recently departed Chihuahua.

Ok, Looks like everyone's headed inside. Let's check out;

The Intro

Like my compadre, Dice C, said earlier, Jackman is better when he's got claws are shooting out of his hands. Still, his tribute to Billy Crystal via opening musical had some pretty good snikts in it, ie the Craigslist dancers and the Anne Hathaway Nixon walk on. Ok, let's dole out some hardware;

Best Supporting Actress

Is Tilda Swinton one of the Greys? Holy smokes, she always finds new ways to creep me out. Good for Goldie for keeping it real though.

Penelope Cruz gets the gold. Good stuff. Just saw the flick last night and she slayed in that Barcelona picture as a wacked out Spanish artist. So far so good.

Best Screen Writer

We have a winner for Best Dressed Starlett. Tiny Fey. Whoa. Talk about putting the rock in 30 Rock.

The writer for Milk won and gave a really nice speech about how he was inspired by the courage of the San Francisco civic politician. I like the world right now. A black president and films about gay rights activists that win Academy Awards. It feels like the future with a Star Trek style utopia and transporters not too far behind.

Best Animation

Wall-E. Ok I haven't seen it, as it seems like some lame Disney production. But the animation looks absolutely sick, sick, sick. Twenty years some ago I was sitting in front of an Atari playing Defender. What next? Best Matrix style virutal reality? Am I in one right now? Are you?

Best Speech So Far.

[waiting for youtube of the Japanese guy that won for best short animation. "Thank you to my stuff," and "Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto." No. Thank you.]

Hey look, Maniwaki Red Carpet nominees, Bond and SJP are presenting;

The Best Art Direction

This is usually where we all start to tune out. I'm going to pour a beer and clam.

[hoists beer mug. Drinks.]

...hey, Sarah Jessica isn't looking that bad...

Best Make Up

TSN turning point of the night. If the Joker beats out Benji Button or Hellboy, it's going to be one of those Oscars shows that devolves turns into a gawdy, showy spectacle.

Hey, score one for good taste (as well as a surprisingly solid run of deserving award winners thus far) as Button buttoned this one up.

Best Cinematography

Stiller's Joaquin impersonation was pretty hillarious. But like the other 4 billion people on planet I want to know what the fuck is really going on already. Is this hip hop thing serious or is the whole thing some Andy Kaufman inspired prank. If it's the former, it's sad to see a solid screen actor lose his shit on a Britney level. If it's the latter, I want to definitely want to see more.


Dice is right. There's something very wrong about Wolverine prancing around on stage doing a musical number espousing the "return of the musical" alongside the leads from High School Musical.

Best Supporting Actor

Quiet. Christopher Walken is speaking on stage .

Would you shut up! Kevin Cline is talking about Heath Ledger in Batman.

And like any brilliant super villian, he still has the last laugh, even from beyond the grave. Not only does the Joker win the Oscar, but also the Maniwaki Most Deserved Award.

Best Post Production Awards

Time for another beer.

Best Visual Effects

Button beats out both Batman and Iron Man. The Spouse and I debate.

Best Sound

Batman gets shut out of this and I'm going to get all Joker on the Academy. Lucky for them the Dark Knight took home the statue.

Best Mix.

Same shit. Batman loses this and it's trouble.

Uh oh. Slumdog Millionaire took it. I'm sharpening my Bat shuriken.

The Lifetime Award.

The Spouse has just informed me that Jerry Lewis is not the 1950's rock n'roll piano player that married his 14 year old cousin. Oops.

Best Song

Good for you Peter Gabriel for pulling out for not wanting to perform some lame medley. Leave that kind of stuff to Céline Dion and drag queens that dress up as Céline Dion.

***Most Stylish Starlet Award Update***

Alicia Keys. Yiieeeeeeye. You have just entered the running.

Montage For The Departed

Bernie Mac, Ricardo Montalban and Paul Newman all gone in the same year? This is not good.

No Long Boring Ass Academy Speech?

Yes Wolverine, the times they are a'changin' indeed.

The Final Four - Best Director

Slum Dog Danny. I guess I have to see this flick.

The Spouse: They have done a very good job this year.

Me: Yeah, they've cut out a lot of the shit and many of the cats that should have won, did.

The Spouse: Yup.

Best Actress

Whoa, Sally Field from the early '80's in the pre announcement montage. That is some fine feathered hair.

Come on Kate!

***Most Stylish Starlett Award Update***

Looks like they're bringing out the big guns at the end. Haley and Nicole. Yup. Both barrells.

The Spouse: How old is Sophia Loren?

Me: One hundred and five.

...and it goes to Kate. What? Yet another solid choice? What has happened? Has a secret team of super heroes set the universe right in some secret cosmic battle with evil?

Best Actor

Here come the heavy weights. Deniro, Ben Kingsley, Anthony Hopkins, Michael Douglas, and Adrian Brody(?) to present.

***Man O' The Walk Update***

If anyone can unseat Bond, it can only be Sir Ben as he looks like Satan himself.

So Sean Penn gets another one. This was the Academy saying, "Look Mickey, you got your Golden Globe and some time in the spotlight, but the ride ends here."

Line of the night comes from Penn's acceptance speech. "You commie homo loving sons of guns.." Yup. We'll be seeing that one on future montages for the rest of eternity.

Also kudos for paparazzi punching the protesting homophobes outside the theatre by speaking up for the Gay Man during the speech. Good stuff.

Best Picture

Haven't seen a one of them, but they all seem like fine flicks deserving of the award. Except for Button.

And Spielberg announces Slum Dog. Ok, ok, already....I promise I'll go see it. Or rent it one Sunday when I'm hung.

In true Oscar fashion this post is running on and on. Cue the orchestra and we'll see you next year live from the scene when I accept my award for Best Background Performer.

The Credits

Well haven't they gotten clever, putting the long Academy voting process speech here. All in all a good show with no selections resulting in bile dripping from my teeth. It does feel like a new era, like the Death Star has just been blown up or something.

The Return

So Kyle Wellwood returned to Toronto and what a game!

Ok, if you're not on board with Mats and the Canucks after this one I don't know what's wrong with you. You must hate hockey. Simple as that. What a game. Probably the best contest of the year so far. Let's recap.

The Ovation. A classy ACC stood and applauded their former Captain as he stepped on the ice for his first shift. The usually stoic Sundin was obviously moved by this and for the remainder of the game. Although there were no tears, you definitely could've called him Mats Messier this eve.

The Scrum. So if that's not enough, the big guy gets tied up in front of the bench and a brou-ha-ha ensues. Kesler (who is no longer on the Maniwaki hit list) rolls in to help out his line mate and the PIM's start flying. Apparently Brad May issued a "warning" to Mats. Someone should knock May's block off as he has always been on the Maniwaki hit list. Even when he was a Canuck. Maybe Darcy "The Assiniboine Assasin" Hordichuck could do the old neighbourhood proud by settling things Sasky Cabaret style the next time the two squads meet.

The Swat. Holy fuck, Alex Burrows. Holy fuck.



The Shootout. While Bob bobbled yet another one, mighty Mats prowled the blue line and then rocketed down the ice to deke and score the storybook goal of the 09 season. Just stellar.

Trouble For Two Famed Franchises

Wow. Who's got it worse right now?

The Yanks. This A-Rod business keeps getting worse and worse. Now it seems like he was hanging with some shady trainer during his Texas days, and the substance that he professed to have acquired over the counter in the Dominican was actually illegal at the time. Looks like he came about as clean as a pinstripe pair of pants after a hard slide to second.

And if A-Rod isn't enough, you've got new Stadium issuesand billionaire Bloombergian shenanigans.

No wonder D-Jeets just want to play ball already. And definitely not hockey with;

The Habs. What a mess. Goaltending meltdowns, Kostitsyn send downs, Kovalev benchings and slipping standings. All in the Centennial Anniversaire Des Glorieux. Things are not happy in Habsland that's for sure. And to make matters worse it now appears that les frères Kostitsyn have been hanging around with the Tony Soprano of Montreal.

Ahh zut!

The Hank And Dan Show

Six points between the point the brothers Sedin in a 5-2 win over the Sens in yet another solid Canucks campaign. To every lower mainland hater who's constantly grinding them for not being "tough Canadian grinders":

They have consistently put up over 70 points each for the past three seasons. They are on pace to make it a fourth. They are one of the key reasons as to why we'lll make the playoffs.

So quit acting like you're Bob Gainey and they're named the Kovalev Twins.

Prelude To Purchase?

Could the Jets be coming home? Or could Wayne be returning to Southern Ont? Let's hope Gary does what's right for the game and finally let this lost pack of Coyotes high tail it back home to Canada.

Don't think the Jets could survive in the prairies? Take a peek at this cat's analysis and get back to me.

Coming Clean?

So Alex Rodriguez expects us to believe that he went all the way to the Dominican Republic to purchase some over the counter beaners with his cousin and then proceeded to pop these tic tacs for three years without knowing what they were? All without consulting a doctor, trainer, or even at least sketchy pharmacist who cooks up bathtub crystal meth?

Mr. Multi Million dollar contract just took some pills to give him "a boost" without knowing what they would really do? And he couldn't get them in his own back yard, from a source that could provide some info on them? Next he'll expect us to believe he was taking some prototype Red Bull or something...

Never mind stopping the culture of steroids. Let's start with stopping the culture of bullshit.

Papi's Prescription

I always liked Papi. I mean how could you not? All he does is hit clutch bombs with a smile on his face as well as helping historic franchises that haven't won World Series in 80+ years finally get one.

During all the nonsense swirlling around the off season with this steroids business, he's managed to outdo himself by smacking a huge home run even before a pitch has even been thrown on the season.

So all of you dejected, downtrodden big league ball fans, take a break from the court proceedings and media exposés. A ray of springtime sunshine has broken through these dark, HGH laced clouds as the big bat has come through once again to help The Game in its time of need.

Pay heed. The Big Papi has spoken.

Revisiting The I-95

Back in the summer when the Skip and I were rocketing down the I-95 en route to the lands of Fenway, I ranted from exit 57 to exit 2057 about the futility of the Canucks 08/09 season. Laying into the lack of seemingly significant roster moves, I laced into the likes of Kesler and Edler with a venom that could only be distilled in the dense, urban landscape of New York City.

It wasn't t their play that I found to contentious, but their induction into the ranks of untouchable royalty by many lower mainland hockey fans. The mere mention of trading these third liners often invoked rabid blind fury in many circles.

The Skip: "Who?"

Me: "Exactly."

As their legend had yet to permeate past Manning Park outside of Chilliwack, I felt that the front office was echoing the consensus of the Canucks fanbase and thus dooming us all this season.

So yes, I like many, were surprised when the Canucks actually turned out a respectable campaign for a good part of the season, and then again when Mats finally signed up. And yes, I was stocking up on paper bags and many bottles of Golden Wedding rye during the recent losing streak, but nothing could shock me more than the aforementioned Kesler/Edler tandem coming through for me big time tonight versus the Habs.

Why? Because in a huge game, in which much hinges on, a game in which the Skip and I texted barbs back and forth cross country for three periods, these two former Maniwaki write offs directly contributed to the cause and to my eventual eggs benny at the Queen E hotel by each scoring a goal.

What? The Hockey Gods must be hoisting a few tonight and having a few laughs at the folly of we Maniwaki mortals.

Ain't no premonition powers on the highway...

Stormy Seas Of Springtime

I don't know what to do anymore. I really don't. As a baseball fan, these recent days pretty much rank right up there with the '94 strike, the Expo's hijack and the bottom falling out of the Jays in '87, when they handed the div over to Detroit.

The specter of steroids is everywhere. Roberto Alomar is now being charged with knowingly spreading AIDS to his former girlfriend. And when you actually get to get to the game itself, Doc, god bless him, is putting on a sunny spin in sunny Florida on the block of Swiss cheese that is passing for the 09 rotation.

Then there's the Commish.

As an amateur scribe, I would never dream of putting my self in the same stadium as the great Hunter S. Thompson. He pitched the big game under the big lights in the big city, whilst I toil away on the sports grounds diamonds in rural Sasky, working on my cutter. However, I am starting to understand how he felt at times.

In "The Great Shark Hunt," the Great Gonzo often took aim at the apparent and incalculable inanity of the political blueprint of the early '70's and it's chief architect, Richard M. Nixon. Blasting bazooka shells at the Presidency via analog typewriter, Thompson appeared to be defending his own moral sensibilities against the constant Republican barrage against them. His frequent, savage salvos must have been what kept him sane in savage times.

And I am beginning to see the light at the end of the cigarette holder. As I too feel the need to dig into a fox hole, lob literary grenades and hopefully hold the line until the Selig term is completed.

Being a baseball fan during his reign is much like becoming a guerrilla resistance fighter. One must apply constant and unrelenting pressure, hitting hard and hitting often against the MLB order in order to retain one's deep and life long respect for The Game as it has been pulled through some of the muddiest base paths as of late. Ones that make the soggy lanes of the suspended Game 5 of last year's Series seem like stroll ways through Stanley Park on Sunday.

The latest? Oh, just your usual distancing from being accountable in any way for the steroids era. To the point of even changing the record books.

What?

Not only has Selig done enough to destroy the modern game of baseball, he now feels compelled to mess with its past? While I'm sure you'd be hard pressed to find a soul on this planet who doesn't wish Hank Aaron still held the all time home run record, the numbers are the numbers. Bonds hit more. The scope of steroids has already been proven to be so wide that to start erasing and changing stats now, would almost call for the entire syringe soaked era to be stricken itself.

Which is impossible, because the scandal of steroids is too big. It's systemic. And like we've been hearing over and over lately, it was the culture. How are you going to obliterate an entire social culture from the history's pages? Even if it shows there to be a fly in the apple pie and makes you want to commit Sepuku with a white picket off the old fence?

And we still haven't heard the end of it, as it will only be a matter of time until the other 103 players are named. Which will then still undoubtedly not serve as the end.

Hank Aaron himself says that he has no interest in being re-instated as the Home Run King. He recognizes that the era must stand for what it is, and that trying to decide who should be accountable and who shouldn't is difficult and ultimately futile. My vote is for him to be the next Commissioner Of Baseball.

Selig should let his steroid era stand, asterisk free, and let the future, players, coaches, organizations, writers and fans judge it for what it is. A massive, bulging ship that has been stuck so many times with syringes it has sprung uncountable leaks and is inevitably sinking into the seas ill repute and contention. It is a vessel that its captain, or commissioner, must accompany to its end.

Nope

Score: Van 1. Dallas 2.

Streak: 4 Games.

Winning goal: A very shanky one let in by back up, LaBarbera.

A Fallen Rider In Need

Best wishes and a speedy recovery going out to the poor lad that was snowboarding on Grouse tonight and suffered a very nasty spill. The ski patrol, multiple snowmobiles and a snowcat were called in. It looked pretty serious. I'm calling on everyone who reads this site to send a positive thought out into the airwaves to help this kid get back on his feet soon. And if you are hitting the slopes, make sure you get down from a to b with extra care.

Not Juiced Up On The 09 Season

Uggh.... Spring training is right around the corner and the only stories coming out the Bigs are seriously making me consider taking a year off. No joke. Instead of projected lineups and potential Cy Young candidates, I'm reading about:

Who's the latest to get caught juicing.

Who's the latest to get caught lying about juicing.

Who has yet to be revealed to be juicing.

Who protected everyone juicing.

Who made 17.5 million dollars off everyone juicing.

Who made way more than 17.5 mill from juicing over his entire career, and is still making a few bucks off it.

Yup. European team handball might merit a closer look this summer.

Glory Days Of Weeks Past

Man, all this steroid business is getting me depressed. How about we lighten things up by harkening back to some fonder times...like last week and my recent trip out east?

Sound good? Good. No mention of A-Rod, Roger Clemens, Barry Bond, Miguel Tejada (who was formally charged today) Jose Canseco, Brian McNamee, Rafael Palmeiro, Andy Pettitte, the 103 still unnamed juicers, the Player's union, the Commish or even Ben Johnson himself. I pronounce this day the official Maniwaki Mitchell Free Day.

Let's move on. Or back. Or whatever...

The end of January marked a momentous occasion. Namely the retirement of one Big Bad Vlad The Dad (father of the Skip, the Dangler, Muskoka, and myself). An anomaly in the contemporary business world, and a true throwback to classic eras, the Dad, carved out his career remaining with one squad for the decades long duration. He saw many seasons with Team Xerox and always played with passion and class. His number will be raised to the corporate rafters within the coming months I am told.

So as the club ceremony is still pending, the stars had aligned to see fit that the immediate fam could reconvene at HQ in Oaktown. The Dangler had no game, Muskoka had an early final, the Skip and First Mate skipped on down from la Cabane and I was able to Westjet it on over. (in a stunning record time might I add. Under 4 hours. Maybe the captain was on steroids...)

We had an All Star weekend, complete with a surprise team dinner for the Dad on the Saturday, followed by a surprise shin dig at HQ, followed by a full Superbowl Sunday recovery. Good for baseball.

Here's some of the plays of the weekend from the highlight reel:

1. Muskoka Molly's clandestine drop zone pick up in which her and her man Dan, scooped me up from. We proceeded straight to a Timmy's, devised plans, and then;

2. Met the Dangler at his gal Steph's pad, pre din-din, in which he broke down the Canadians' lack lustre performance vs the Kings.

3. The look on Vladdus of Daddus' face when he saw the entire clan.

4. The dins itself. A splendid Southern Ont, chop house in which the Skip and I tried to out do each other by naming prime cuts of meat. A warning to him for his hitching. I have a ringer.

5. The bash at HQ, complete with fam, friends and festivities.

6. Gagne's cross country, late inning heroics. The Skip and I turned, faced west and applauded we discovered his incredibly timely post.

7. The Skip's Superbowl Chili. 3 years running, and in his own words: 3 animals and7 cuts. All day preparation and 'nary a veggie to be found. As per apparent tradition, it was served at half time. Stunningly spicy, we chowed while the Boss played. The kicker was that when delving back into the leftovers the next day, it really began to take shape. Unreal.

8. As did the First Mate's samosas which rocked the pad for two solid days.

9. The pre game intros, in which players state which College they attended in conjunction with their position. Some switch up their varsity allegiance can opt to insert whatever witty blurb they can muster. Standouts included, [random Arizona player]: "Swagger" and Antre Rolle: "The U." (apparently University Of Miami. news to me.)

10. The game itself. Although I don't care about Arizona, and don't follow the NFL, how could you not have loved that match? Harrison's unbelievable, record setting return. Warner and co's fourth quarter comeback. Santonio Holmes picking up right where David Tyree left off.

In the end, the entire eastern campaign earned the Steelers and our squad the Lombardi Trophy. We will have to prepare extra hard for next season as we will be going in as defending champs.

Wow.

Sure didn't expect this one to hit the broadband so fast.

Broken Record

Fuck the Grammys. If you think The Baseball Writers Association of America are a messed up bunch,  then check out the absurdity that is the Academy of Music. In 2009, the best Male Pop Vocal was awarded to John Mayer. Which is a totally legitimate pick, if you're into melancholy, manicured laments about the girl that you met at the Cactus Club, who left you and is now fucking a guy she roller blades around the park with.

Also nominated in this category were:

Jason Mraz. I can't name one of his songs but I'm sure he's the guy roller blading with Mayer's ex.

Ne -Yo. An acceptable pick I think, but I still can't think of one of his tunes. Let's iTunes and see. "Miss Independent"? Since that's the name of a Kelly Clarkson song, he gets a free pass. This time.

Sir Paul. Look, I'm not going to lay into Sir Paul. That would just poor be form. Like talking smack about Gordie Howe or something. Even if he were nominated for the Hart Trophy in 2009.

Kid Rock. Now here' s a motherfucker that I'm definitely lining up in the Maniwaki cross hairs. Dead centre. If I hear one more ramblin'-roots-rap-rock-rendition of how he's the greatest thing to come out of the motor city since the Red Wings resurgence, I'm going going to puke a full quart of 10w30. Where's Suge Knight when you need him?

and James Fucking Taylor.You have got to be kidding me.

Saturday Night Snippets

...Everyone's favourite Kaballah shagging, bush league "mine" screaming, ball player you love to hate just gave you one more reason. Are we surprised at HQ?...Is AJ going to hit the DL with a fractured hair follicle by June 1?

...what we are surprised about is the Canucks decisive 7-3 win over the Blackhawks at home. And when the inevitable Chicago come back started in the third, (prompting five of my compadres to explain to two out of towners at the bar why this was a legitimate concern) Ryan freaking Kesler, pulled a Dave Roberts and quelled everyone's fears by scoring real dandy. Yes, I just publicly applauded Kesler. Yes the times must be a changing. But let's take a look at goal number 7:




...the ink still drying on the transfer papers, my dog Arthur donned did his best Beckham impersonation by booting a FIFA approved soccer ball at the park. Looking sharp, he covered the entire pitch in record time and even took passes. Vancouver Whitecaps beware. We will show up at camp...

Never Mind Phelps...

...what's JP been smoking? As it appears that he's run out of broken down pitchers past their prime in the Majors, he's now looking overseas, signing 39 year old Ken Takahashi. Dice K, this guy ain't as he'll be inserted into what ever spot on the staff that he doesn't stink up the most.

Believe me. In the near lifetime that I have followed the Jays, have I ever seen such a sorry, sorry staff. I almost wonder if Hollywood hasn't commandeered JP to make a hybrid reality sequel to "Major League", starring the 09 Jays.

Chronic Stupidity

Can we just lay off Phelps? So he hit the bong. Big deal. Are you going to tell me doesn't deserve it? Are you going to say that he didn't earn a little r and r? And if you are of the set that is aghast at a 23 year old hip hop fan smoking weed, are you going to tell me that you never dabbled in THC laced experiments in college? Since I live in BC, pot smoking is as about as shocking walking down the street and seeing a Starbucks, but for those kicking up a fuss about this, pay heed:

The guy just won an unprecedented 8 GOLD MEDALS. He sent the US and the world on one of the greatest highs ever experienced from international sport. If anyone deserves to spark one up he does.

If I were him I wouldn't be apologizing for anything. I'd be heading to So Cal with a big bag of BC's finest and partaking in an Olympic sized smoke off with none other than Snoop Dogg himself.



Phelps to those that are all twisted up because he twisted one up: drop it like its hot..."

Successful Exorcism Of The 10-Game-Demon

So as I was in the centre of the universe yesterday:

a. in an eastern sporting media bubble, watching the Leafs SYACC (Shit Your Air Canada Centre) on the tube and;

b. consuming copious amounts of pasta with many a Honey Sleeman's

I was completely in the dark as to how the Canucks fared against Carolina last night.

Over the weekend in Oaktown, (in the spirit of Curt) the Skip handed me a McFarlane Luongo action man, as a good luck totem to help break the current losing spell. And wouldn't you know it worked.

As I got off the plane and hopped in a cab, I inquired as to how the Canucks fared. And wouldn't you know it, they actually won. The match sounded like a squeaker, so shout outs are in order.

Big ups going out to Bob, the Skip and Todd McFarlane. May we never speak of the last 10 games ever again.

Maniwaki Mobile - Live From The Centre Of The Universe

Presently have set up mobile base station down town at my partner in
crime's hideout. Have been monitoring the Chris Bosh trade sitch on a
local sports talk show. Also had to laugh at the hosts as they
meticulously try and theoretically fix the Leafs. Ha! Don't they
realize how ridiculously futile it is? Then again...

And The Dark Saga Continues...

Still meat comatose. Read this and hurled my guts out. After I fully recover I am starting a grassroots, guerilla movement to liberate baseball from it's tyrannical oppressors. Enough. The Dark Side has reigned long enough in the galaxy.

Red Six. Standing by...

Simmering Super Bowl Sunday

A solid Super Bowl Sunday at HQ in Oaktown featuring the Skip, the First Mate, the Dangler, his gal Steph, Muskoka, her man Dan, Vlad the Dad, and myself. Plus a shout out to the Dangler and Muskoka's Ma who was unfortunately sidelined with the flu.

The Skip's Super Bowl Chili XIII did the trick after stewing for nine hours, and has thrown us all into a deep meat coma. Somewhere during the smoked chipotle carnage, the Steelers became the most winning team in Super Bowl history claiming their sixth.

A full recap after I regain consciousness..