Another Season, More Delusion

NHL Hockey Season Gets Underway: Leafs Nation Doubles Down On Delusions

Toronto (CP) It is a truth universally acknowledged that Leafs Nation keeps coming back for more pain. Each spring, whether it is by their team missing the playoffs or getting clobbered when it really counts, the fans of the Toronto Maple Leafs fall into despair. Over the summer, they forget the pain. And in October, they have re-invested themselves in the dream, that this is the year, that the Stanley Cup is coming home, that all of the struggles of the last few decades are at an end.

The rest of us live in something we call reality.

The team has not won a Stanley Cup since 1967. It has been a long road for Leafs Nation, seeing their team mired in seasons of nothing but failure, or even worse, having their hopes crushed in the playoffs in the most dramatic ways. They keep rebuilding, coming up with new reboots and new schemes for getting back into serious contention, but inevitably their plans fall apart at the worst possible time, and the team ends up playing early golf in the spring.

Jim Hiller is the new head coach of the team, the latest to be seen as the great hope for the Leafs to win the Cup. He was previously head coach in Los Angeles, and has spent time in Toronto as an assistant coach. "It's going to be a big year," he said to reporters this week before losing the opening game of the season to Montreal. "We've made some big trades over the summer, and we're confident that these will be critical to our rebuilding the team, and getting somewhere in the playoffs. We just ask the fans to be patient with us... why is someone snickering?"

The team next meets the Ottawa Senators for a home game on Saturday. Leafs Nation has been gathering in the bars, sharing their stories of the glory days (of which there are few), while being concerned by the season opener in which Montreal came out ahead. "We bleed Maple Leafs blue, baby," one fan told this reporter at a bar not too far from the arena. "It's history. It's tradition. And everything is pointing our way to the greatest season in the history of the game. Sure, you can't win every game. Though our boys deserve it, am I right, boys?"

The man took a swig of his beer. This reporter recognized him as one of three men who had held the Stanley Cup for ransom some years before, demanding that the team be retroactively designated Stanley Cup champions for every year since 1967. "Look, that was a long time ago," the man said. "I was drinkin' a lot. But me and Harry and Jack, we behave ourselves these days. The point is, it's our year. It's going to be the best year, and we're all going to be there to witness it. Harry! Jack! Is this our year or is this our year?"

"Our year, baby!" Harry bellowed.

This reporter pointed out there had been previous grand plans for the team that had gone nowhere. "Don't confuse me with facts," he countered. "Look, the difference between back then and now is that this time it's going to work. Am I right, boys?"

"You're right, baby!" Jack replied. 

"Go Leafs go!" the man yelled, getting the bar going.

This reporter left. There was no point arguing with idiots.

Curse Of A Pumpkin Spice Latte

Autumn is now upon us. I have an image blog for the occasion. Enjoy! 

Ode To An Unscrupulous Banker

 

We can count them as being oblivious. Their lives consist of random comments and random emails sent to random people, having nothing to do with the subject at all, or passing off some get rich quick scheme. They hope to get positive attention, especially in the latter, as that means some poor rube will be dumb enough to believe their story. They are, of course, that wretched hive of scum and villainy we call homo sapiens spammeritis irritatingus, otherwise known as the internet scammer and spammer. The following crap came through to my email recently.

My name is François-Andr? Garnier, working with the Societe
Generale Bank in Paris, France. I am contacting you regarding a
late client who passed away without a next of kin and left a
fixed deposit of $57.5 million.

I propose presenting you as the next of kin so the funds can be
claimed.

I will handle all required legal documentation, and the funds
would be shared on a 60/40 basis. The process is expected to be
completed within a few If you are interested, please provide your
full name, address, contact number, and occupation so the
necessary documents can be prepared. If not, kindly disregard
this message.

I will provide more details when I get your response.

Best regards,
François Garnier

I should start out by saying that true to form, the email address provided in the email, which I left out of the copy and paste, is not the same email that sent this garbage. That email was different, and is merely the first in a long series of cut out email addresses leading to some dark corner of the web, perhaps in Russia. And he introduces himself as Francois-Andr?.... error, or hoping to start a trend with names? I'd go with error. It starts off with the formal wording of a supposed banker whose late client left millions unclaimed in their accounts, proposing a partnership that if it was real, would be setting off all sorts of alarms. He wants to split it 60/40 with me as the next of kin.

Oh, right. I'm supposed to believe that someone with fifty seven million dollars didn't have a will. Or a lawyer to advise on preparing a will. Some sort of plan on what to do with all that money upon shuffling off their mortal coil. Right. Uh huh. And I'm supposed to believe that a banker (which this guy is not, whoever actually sent this crap) is willing to do what is at the very least unethical with a complete stranger halfway across the world. Sure.

No, what this is all about is some scammer at the end of a long list of email addresses hoping that of the five hundred thousand random emails he sends this to that someone will be dumb enough to bite and send the inevitable processing fee of a few thousand dollars before they realize they got scammed.

Come on, man. I know better.

What you should do is get tied up to a pole in a place downslope from an erupting volcano.

A Requisite Three Day Weekend

 It is Labour Day today. I have an image blog for the occasion. Enjoy!

Even Death Has An Odd Bad Week

"Ladies and gentlemen, we would like to begin with an explanation of sorts. We, the Grim Reapers, sometimes also known as Death Inc., have an endless task set before us. People are born. And people die. We're tasked to bring them to the afterlife. Whatever destination that may be for them. It's a lot easier with animals. They all go to the good place. Humans? Not so much. Especially these days.

The point is, we're busy. And sometimes, mistakes get made.

It's been a hard few days for the world. There's been a great deal of anticipation, expectation, and people waiting for a long overdue obituary. Yes, that obituary. A certain obese obnoxious self absorbed con man who weaseled his way into a powerful position not once but twice. As a grim reaper, may I just say that one should try going through life not being the sort of person whose death will be cause for  global celebration. Because if you're that sort of person, you're really not going to like the place that you're heading to when you leave this life.

So, for the record. Yes. We are working on it. Things just keep getting in the way, but he's definitely running short on time, and the Devil has prepared a place in Hell just for him- a dark void with no exit, no company, and no audience. Just himself. Alone forever. That's kind of fitting, don't you think?

Theologians might say that he can repent his ways and go the other way, but realistically?

You'd have to have a soul. And he frittered that away decades ago.

So no, he's going to Hell.

But we need to set the record straight on some things.

A lot of people have been taking out their anguish on us. Which we get. Because in short order, you had these wonderful people die, who lived their lives very much as themselves, who made an impact on so many lives. People who are widely mourned and commemorated. I mean, the closest thing Earth had to a living saint was Dolly Parton. Kind, compassionate, humanitarian, with a personal interest in childhood literacy and access to books. An entertainer who didn't take herself seriously, but who helped others because it was the right thing to do.

And Tim Curry? Loved him in Clue, by the way. That movie is a big favourite among grim reapers. But Tim was a larger than life actor who inhabited every part he played, and breathed life into every film. People loved him.

And now both of them are gone. To a better world, let me assure you. Dolly has joined that heavenly choir, and Tim is cracking jokes with St. Peter. They're at peace now, in a place which will never be home to an odious slug who resides at 1600 Pennsylvania.

We just want to say that we're sorry. Dolly and Tim dying in short order comes as a shock, because it is. Because these were good people, and even though they lived long lives, it's never long enough when good people pass on.

But everyone has their time to pass on. Except Keith Richards. That guy's going to live forever, because we misplaced the paperwork. And it was Dolly and Tim's time to depart from this world, even after all the good they did and the joy they brought to the lives of people they might have never had the chance to meet. Look, this is our job. And despite our reputation as looking scary, we're not. We're walking you into the afterlife. Like an old friend. Helping you make that transition.

Unless you're going to Hell. In which case we're kicking you in the ass and sending you down into the pit.

I get that people don't want to deal with the idea of Death. But we are a natural part of Life. Namely the ending of it. And when you live the kind of life that people mourn you in the way people mourn Dolly and Tim, you'll meet us as an old friend, taking that last walk together. If, on the other hand, you live your life like a Donald Trump, you're going to be screaming in terror when you meet us. The moral of the story is, be like Dolly and Tim. Don't be like Donald. 

So what we're saying is we appreciate the frustration people are having with us. You want to see him no longer wasting oxygen, and it hurts when good people pass out of this life and horrible people live on. We get that. 

Just rest assured with this:

He's running out of time. We're on it. Trust me."