I don’t care what you’ve got, it’s not as good as this. This is, quite simply, the best commercial ever made. New Zealand vs Scotland, man-mountains vs Abercrombie and Fitch models, two avatars of modern masculinity going head-to-head in a testosterone-sodden war. Who wins?
Watch this, and then you tell me.
Me? I think the audience wins!
This is a Blogathon post. Don’t just sit there, SPONSOR ME!
Here’s another whackadoodle video by my favorite Frenchman since Rousseau, Remi Gaillard. While he is, obviously, French and does not enjoy the cultural bounty of a natural-born Canuckistani, it’s quite clear that he understands what fans the world over love best about hockey, and he understands it in a deep, visceral way.
I soooooo want to do this! Who’s in?
With posters like this:
I think I can hardly be blamed for getting my hopes up. Naturally (inevitably) I was disappointed when, once again, the tentacled shot put failed to make it as even a mere exhibition sport.
I’d show him where to put it, that’s for sure!
Again I say: oh, Boris. Don’t ever change.
Boris Johnson, Mayor of London gives quite possibly the greatest Olympic speech ever made; quite certainly the most entertaining. But why didn’t he bring up Poodle Clipping? That was an Olympic sport!
“Virtually every single one of our international sports were either invented or codified by the British, and I say this respectfully to our Chinese hosts who have excelled so magnificently at ping pong,” he said in a tongue-in-cheek speech.
“Ping pong was invented on the dining tables of England in the 19th century and it was called wiff waff.
“There I think you have the essential difference between us and the rest of world.
“Other nations, the French, looked at a dining table and saw an opportunity to have dinner. We looked at a dining table and saw an opportunity to play wiff waff. That is why London is the sporting capital of the world.
“And I say to the Chinese, and I say to the world: ping pong is coming home.”
Text excerpt from Sander Cohen’s Muse
Perhaps I may be ever so slightly melodramatic, but I blame California (doesn’t everyone blame California, no matter what we’re talking about? It’s your choice of California, Tories, or Global Warming where I come from). After all, they started it. How is anyone else supposed to make the news when they’re all, like, “Earthquake! Earthquake!”
I mean, I was all, “Yeah, it’s California. It’s not a headline: it’s a given.”
But whatever.
So tonight I went out for a nice skate with a nice bunch of people and it was…nice, despite the fact that I was, once again, the slowest in the group and didn’t even have the excuse of a hangover to blame, although it must be said and indeed will be said, and by none other than me, that my bearings have long since turned to rubble and need replacing. Should a couple more someones sign up for my blogging classes I might be able to buy some new ones next month in the Comor sale, but that is as may be, or may not be.
But whatever.
So, I get the skate in and have a good time and on my way home as I’m calmly skating along, both minding my own business and sticking to the so-called cycle-pedestrian “path” under Canada Place, a “path” distinguished primarily by two painted lines and a texture something like the surface of Mars, when what happens?
I thought you’d never ask.
raincoaster 