You went too damn far this time. First you tried to pawn off that
bad ham as bacon. Then you stuck us with Celine Dion and no
instructions on how to turn her off. But when you started booin'
our national anthem, Bubba, you peed on the wrong leg.
It happened five times last week. Vancouver Canucks fans roundly
booed The Star-Spangled Banner before two home playoff games
against the Colorado Avalanche, and Edmonton Oilers fans booed it
before three home games against the Dallas Stars.
Hey, Roseanne wasn't even singin' it!
I know it's not easy playin' Paul Shaffer to our David Letterman,
but we don't deserve this. Don't we keep our border open to you
people? Put up with that gross Tom Green and his televised
testicles? Let you park your Zambonis anyplace you want?
O.K., our anthem isn't the catchiest tune, but it's ours. We
don't like Muslim point guards sittin' down while it's played,
and we don't like Canadians like Robert Goulet forgettin' the
words to it, and we sure as hell don't like a bunch of
plaid-wearin', moose-speakin' McKenzie brothers booin' it. Don't
forget, we've got a Texan on the button now.
Nobody's quite sure why you're booin'. Maybe you think if you
disrespect somebody else's country, it makes you more patriotic.
Maybe Vancouver is hacked off about losing its NBA Grizzlies to a
U.S. city. Maybe Edmonton fans have had it up to their earflaps
with gettin' punked by the Stars in the playoffs four straight
seasons. Or maybe fans hear the rumors that the Oilers are the
next Canadian hockey team that's going to pack up and move across
the border. Or maybe you drink about three dozen too many Labatts
before the games. But you buncha lumberjacks just crossed a
Well, I know what it is. You're sore at how we're whippin' you at
your game. A Canadian team hasn't won the Stanley Cup since 1993.
You've only got six teams left out of the 30 in the league, and
those six are lookin' paler than a Saskatoon stripper. None of
'em have a snowball's chance this year, and most are broker than
Braniff. Meanwhile, there are teams in such hockey hotbeds as
Dallas, Miami, Phoenix (you remember that team, right? Used to be
in Winnipeg), San Jose and Tampa.
Your dollar is worth, what, 65 cents now? How many pesos is that?
Two? And now a Coloradan, George Gillet Jr., is trying to buy
your crown jewel, the Montreal Canadiens. Is that beautiful? Hope
he starts serving tacos and Bud and slappin' all those snooty
French Canadians on the back with, "How's it hangin', Hoss?"
You had to be pretty desperate to boo ol' Frank Key's jingle. The
Avalanche (you remember that team, right? Used to be in Quebec)
was on its way to sweepin' out the Canucks four-zip, and most of
the Colorado players are Canadians anyhow. You even pissed off
Avalanche captain Joe Sakic, and he's from suburban Vancouver!
You're booin' your next-igloo neighbor. Plus, you've been runnin'
those Molson beer "I Am Canadian" ads up there the last three
years, takin' shots at us, callin' Canada "the best part of North
America." One ad mocked us for our basic friendliness, like when
you tell us you're from Canada, and we say, "Hey, do you know
Suzy? She's from Canada!"
O.K., we do know one guy you might know--Wayne Gretzky. Owns a
piece of the Phoenix club. You thought he'd come back after he'd
seen Hollywood, the beach and Janet Jones naked? Yeah, right. He
figured out early on that he was stayin', especially after his
Canadian buddies came to his house in L.A., saw the long, steep
driveway and moaned, "Wayner, you'll never get up this in the
I notice Larry Walker hasn't moved back, either. Or Michael J.
Fox. Or Jim Carrey. Gee, can't imagine why. Other than fat taxes,
tiny temperatures and the fact that a big Saturday night is
sittin' next to a hole in the ice waitin' for a lunk to come
along while keepin' your bait warm in your mouth.
You know what a Canadian guy asks before he agrees to a blind
date? "Does she have her own jumper cables?" You know how to
spell Canada? C, eh? N, eh? D, eh?
So that's it. Burn the Peace Bridge. This is war. Your only job
was to stay quiet up there, send us the occasional smoked salmon
and protect us from invasion by Greenland. But you went and
ruined it. You think we can't take all them sissy Mounties? We
can whip them with Rulon Gardner alone.
Tell you what. We either get an apology by the morning, or you
hosers can forget about becoming our 51st state.
COLOR PHOTO: DANA FINEMAN/SYGMA
We sure as hell don't like a bunch of plaid-wearin',
moose-speakin' McKenzie brothers booin' our national anthem.