Pierre McGuire: Blind or Just Obsequious?

pierre_mcguire
Not pictured: Tin Foil Hat Mr. McGuire Should Be Wearing

Like most of Canada this time of year, I was watching Canada/Czech Republic at the World Junior Hockey Championship from Buffalo last night on TSN.   For the second game in a row, Team Canada started in a bit of a sleepwalking mode and surrendered an early goal.  Also for the second game in a row though, the young men on this team (to their credit) sucked it up and stormed back to dominate the game.  By the end of the first, though the score was only 2-1 for Canada, it was clear that this game was going to be a rout;  in the final half of the  period, long stretches of play had unfolded without respite in the Czech Republic’s zone. It was only a matter of time before the Canucks lit the lamp a few more times, and the Czechs were showing no signs of any offensive spark.

That is indeed how the game unfolded, with Canada cruising to a 7-2 win.  So dominant were the Canadians in this game that it became a bit of a dud as far as entertainment value goes;  with the result never really in doubt after the first ten minutes, there wasn’t much to keep a viewer glued to the tube in this one.

What little excitement there was ended up being provided by Zack Kassian’s second period hit on Petr Senkerik.  Specifically, the excitement arose from the fact that Kassian hit Senkerik in the head (not to mention rather late).  Kassian’s bodycheck appeared to knock the Czech forward unconscious.  He was removed from the ice on a stretcher, and Kassian was assessed a five minute major penalty and a game misconduct.

Now, I have watched this tournament and cheered for Team Canada every holiday season for as long as I can remember.  I want Canada to reclaim the gold medal pilfered from us last year by a plucky American squad.  I have nothing against Zack Kassian.

But Kassian’s hit on Senkerik was a blow to the head.  I saw it.  The referees saw it.  Probably something like 4 million Canadians saw it.  For some reason, though, TSN analyst and notorious loudmouth Pierre McGuire either didn’t or wouldn’t see it.  Almost immediately following the play, he began braying that Kassian was being penalized unjustly.  As he did so, TSN’s own replay clearly showed – from two angles – that McGuire was wrong.  It is not possible that he failed to see these replays, which were shown numerous times by the network.  Having noisily and publicly committed himself to a differing version of reality, however, the obnoxious McGuire continued to assert something that was, and is, obviously not true: that Kassian had hit Senkerik in the chest with his shoulder.   To my eyes and ears, McGuire came off as stubborn and ridiculous as he repeatedly decried- and I do mean repeatedly, no horse being too bereft of life for Mr. McGuire to administer yet another beating – the inequities visited upon Kassian by the presiding officials.   Silly and annoying, but mostly harmless.

Where McGuire took things to another level was during his post-game analysis as part of TSN’s panel.  Unsurprisingly, the stubborn McGuire clung to his misguided version of events; incredibly, however, he actually claimed that the impact was caused by Senkerik’s failure to properly secure the chinstrap on his helmet.  It was good of TSN’s Bob McKenzie to gently, if only implicitly, chide McGuire at the outset of the panel segment (McKenzie claimed that when he first saw the clip, he thought Kassian had struck Senkerik’s chest, but that after reviewing the clip again, he had begun to believe it was a head shot), but someone on the panel, either moderator James Duthie or McKenzie himself, ought to have called McGuire on the ridiculous assertion that Senkerik’s loose-fitting headgear was responsible for the impact.  McGuire’s assessment of these events makes about as much sense as a person believing that John F. Kennedy would have fared better that fateful day in Dallas if only he had been wearing more sturdy footwear.

Nobody on TSN called McGuire on his ridiculous blabber;  HiR:tb’s elves in the A.V. department, however, took a wee break from chug-a-lugging egg nog and sleeping under their desks to bring you the following video summary of the incident:

Let There Be Music – And Some Wins, Please

I mentioned on Twitter the other day that I was working on something special in my secret lair.  Here it is, in honour of the 2010-2011 Toronto Maple Leafs’ season:  The Toronto Maple Leafs Song. (Update 1:12 a.m.: I’ve been trying on and off all night to post a link to the .mp3 file on this blog, but WordPress wants me to learn new swear words instead.  So here’s a link to my Tumblr, which apparently has somewhat more delicate ears. )

I can’t believe I have spent as much time as I did over the last few days working on this thing.  With Furious G on the way in about eight weeks’ time now, and a busy early 2011 ahead of me work-wise, I have a feeling that the fooling-about time I’ve managed to scrape together over the past couple of evenings may well be the last opportunity I’ll have for a while to focus on ridiculous projects, but I hope everybody in the Barilkosphere enjoys it. If nothing else, have sympathy for the brave men of The Execrables – my PPP Phantasy Puck Team sacrificed their season in the name of this little project. I just couldn’t drag myself away from the production process long enough to pay any attention at all to the fantasy draft, and the autodrafter ended up selecting such luminaries for me as “Marc Savard and his head full of Jell-O”.

Anyway, it all started when I was fooling around, rhyming “Caputi” with “Verbeauty” (the nickname some folks at Pension Plan Puppets have for Kris Versteeg).   Before too long, I ended up going Adam Sandler on the Leafs’ lineup.

Enjoy, I hope it gives you a laugh or two.

Here are the lyrics, in case anyone is interested:

THE TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS SONG

Toronto is the centre of the world
Maybe not, but it’s where the Leaf flag gets unfurled
Our teams have missed the playoffs for many, many years
But this group of Leaf players is tops with the Barilkosphere.

‘Cause we’ve got filthy Phil Kessel, he’s Tyler Bozak’s wing
Kulie and Grabbo just keep on attacking
Monster and Jiggy will prove your offence lacking
While Colton Orr and Komisarek will give you a shellacking
Colby Armstrong has a job cause Matt Stajan was sent packing
Let’s hope we’ll all be cheering wins instead of Prozac-ing

We might not still be playing, when May turns into June
But that’s okay we’ll draft our way to the top
(Wait, what?) Too soon!

Tomas Kaberle makes cross-ice pass like you won’t believe
Still some folks dream of draft picks that we might receive
But I say to keep him, he’s talented and handsome
He better be – he’s passing to John Mitchell and Christian Hanson!
Francois Beauchemin, Luca Caputi
Nobody dangles like Kadri and Verbeauty!
Dion Phaneuf will do his Captain’s duty
And ladies tell me that Luke Schenn looks good in a suit-y
Mueller, Blacker and Aulie all seem like good recruitys
Ian White’s moustache is gone now but we’ve got Mike Brown’s fu manchu-ty

It might not be so bad, now that Toskala’s gone
Forget about the last few years, and help me sing this song:

I like Gunnarson’s acuity, hope Sjostrom stays here too-ity
Jeff Finger’s large annuity makes him a Marlie in perpetuity.
Let there be no ambiguity, show the Leafs that you are true-ity
Habs fans have no clue-ity, and Sens fans are sniffing glue-ity
Support your Toronto Maple Leafs, with all your ingenuity
Engage in promiscuity, if you can find someone who’ll do it-y
Just be sure there’s continuity, in your support for white and blue-ity.

Put on your white and blue
Make some noise and ballyhoo
Even if you speak Urdu
And haven’t watched hockey hitherto
Plan to use a big kazoo
Just be sure you follow through
Bang a chair with a wooden shoe
Make some noise for the white and blue
And
Go
Leafs
Go!

Am I Too Late to Enter the Toronto International Film Festival?

Much of the weekend was spent gathering things together that must be here when Furious G arrives.  Of course, one of the things he’ll need is a stylin’ ride, so we dropped some Benjamins on a pretty wicked l’il swing contraption.  It does pretty much everything except make pizza (unless I missed that page in the owner’s manual) and you can connect an iPod to it so that baby not only rocks, but also ROCKS! to Zeppelin or what not.  Hey, it’s never too early to start an education, I think.

Anyway, here is a little video memorializing the maiden voyage of Furious G’s new contraption.

What Wonders YouTube Does Provide

I was tooling about a bit on YouTube this afternoon.  Rest assured, I was not searching for the clip below.  Little did I know how much I wanted to find it.

Some thoughts on this video:

  1. Not to sound too much like the American Idol judges, but…song choice: it’s an issue for this vocalist.
  2. The dogs are VERY blasé about this.  It’s not the first time these three have made such a video.
  3. The sunglasses. ‘Nuff said.
  4. The not-quite-but-almost dancing, or at least “rhythmic squirming” that begins in earnest, complete with pantomimed gestures (and if I’m not mistaken, a near jazz hands moment) , at the top of the second verse (about 1:23 in).
  5. I’m sure this fellow is a lovely man.  There is a puckish smile on his face that suggests he’s in on the joke of him, so I’m not suggesting that this gentleman is behaving unnaturally with animals.  His decision to shoot a video in which he sings a love song, while lovingly cuddling his two dogs in bed, however?  You can’t deny there’s an aura of creepiness being exuded by that.

As you were.  I felt compelled to share.

Oh, and Go Leafs Go tonight.  Here’s hoping our boys do their share to keep the playoffs Habby free.

Morning Visitors, Evening Intruder

I was up early Sunday morning and in a bit of a half-sleep reverie when it occurred to me that – most unusually – there was rather a lot of noise outside my bedroom window.

When you get right down to it, I sleep about eighty-five feet from the edge of a cornfield, often indoors.  Generally, there isn’t an awful lot of noise out there for the would-be sleeper or his next-day relative, the dazed and confused early morning riser, to contend with.  What little audio ambience there is would typically be of the pastoral background sort – birds chirping, wind rustling through the trees, that sort of thing.

These noises, though were different.  My brain needed to assimilate and assess the information with which it was being bombarded.  First, I determined that there were noises of many varieties, and lots of them.  Whatever was happening out there was not taking place by stealth.   I decided to confer the status of “racket” upon what I was hearing.  With that taxonomic decision out of the way, I proceeded to consider whether there was possibly more to learn about the situation.   After some careful reflection, I decided that quite a number of the many noises were similar;  I decided to assume that there was a lot of something causing this cacophony.  But what could those somethings be?  Examining my audio memory banks, I could not recall ever hearing this particular sort of racket before.

Ralph Wiggum Makes an Appearance at the Joe

Y’know, I hate it when guys say stuff like I told you so, but I did correctly predict the winner of tonight’s Stanley Cup Final and the recipient of the Conn Smythe Trophy.  No doubt the media will be arriving on my front lawn tomorrow morning wondering about the secret to my prognosticative prowess;  here’s hoping I can get some chores done in between interviews.

Speaking of interviews, the line of the night goes to Jackson Cooke, the five-year-old son of Penguins forward Matt Cooke.  Here’s a clip from the tail end of Scott Oake’s on-ice interview with Cooke from CBC:

Runner-up prize goes to Marc-Andre Fleury. Asked by Oake to describe how he felt when he saw the Red Wings swarming his crease in the final minutes of the 3rd period of the game, Fleury smiled, shook his head and said, “Oh shit!” Spouse and I exploded with laughter.

Introducing Wavy Gravy and Sebastien’s Theme.

HeroesinstudiotriptychIn 1998, it somehow happened that my band agreed to write some music – on a volunteer, we can’t pay you for this basis – for a movie that was being directed by a friend of a friend.  In truth, I do remember how this arrangement came to pass, but the story is boring, pointless and convoluted and involves far too many ridiculous characters.  In one of life’s clever little ironies, it so happens that one might say exactly the same thing about the script for the movie in question.  (Dammit, Joel Siegel, this game is easy!)  It’s more fun, therefore, if I decline to tell you the truth about how this composing engagement came to pass and simply tell you instead that Heroes in Rehab won this opportunity as a prize for placing sixth in a sack race at the Directors Guild of Canada annual summer picnic.  That is saying something, because even this last explanation is roughly as much fun as gum disease.

But I digress.

My point is that we had this job to do and people were depending on us.  Those of you in the working world will understand these concepts and identify them as something known as “responsibility”.  It is something that is entirely foreign to musicians, serious artists and other more highly evolved and important life forms.  Being a musician is not about producing things on time (except for musicians who actually get paid to do what they do because they’re good at it);  when you are a Serious Artist (please read: “unemployed”) working on a Weighty Piece of Art, you cannot be rushed, especially when you haven’t got a fucking clue what you’re doing or why (which is most of the time).

Stop! In the Name of Inevitability…

Since reclaiming my driver’s licence about a year ago – no, I didn’t lose it because of a DUI, it just lapsed because….well, that’s a very long story that I’ll have to save for another post – anyway, since I got the dang thing back, I have had an abiding faith in the idiocy of my fellow humans, and their complete and utter incapacity to operate a motor vehicle in a rational, responsible and efficient manner.

Here comes the science. I nominate these guys for a Nobel prize, an Ig Nobel prize, employee of the month at Denny’s, and whatever other awards are available for distribution : this brilliant and necessary work is truly an important and revealing look into the incompetence of your fellow man.