Sudbury, Ontario, Canada used to be a peaceful place.  A quiet, God-fearing mining community, it was the kind of medium-sized city where stupid people didn’t lock their doors at night.  A place where one could find figure skater Jeffrey Buttle and figure skater murderer Todd Bertuzzi enjoying lunch together in a fashionable downtown subshop. A place where people trusted their elected politicians, and elected politicians took great care not to violate that trust.

That is, until this announced it was coming to town:

Yes, a recent combination of i) increased local wealth due to booming nickel prices, and ii) the legendary musician’s continued descent into obscurity led to the most hotly anticipated gig in Sudbury since before Green Day fired their manager. 

An enthusiastic mix of John’s fans, low-level scalpers and the just plain (bi-) curious lined up in the extreme cold for hours to get tickets for the Rocket Man’s show this coming Sunday.  Tickets went fast - a little too fast, apparently.  Something was up, and shortly thereafter, the reason was revealed to be…

…politicians.  Always with the politicians.

Surprise, surprise, seems the fat cats in Sudbury’s City Council decided that the extra $50K, city vehicle and 24-hour on demand snow removal services weren’t perks enough for their fifteen hours of work a week.  So they went ahead and gave themselves 120 tickets (eight apiece) to the hottest show in town, which may not seem like a big deal until you realize that the Sudbury Arena only holds 6000 people.

Sudburians were outraged in a way they haven’t been since local boy Alex Trebek shaved his moustache.  Words like “bullshit” and “crock” and “typical” were bandied about willy-nilly.  Angry phone calls were made.  A garbage can was overturned (although that may have been raccoons).

Oh, sure, the mayor has said that most of the tickets have been given back, and that he never would have earmarked them for the Council had he known it would cause such outrage.  But I say COME ON, John Rodriguez!  If there is one thing a blue collar, beer-swilling, hockey-obsessed community of second-generation immigrants can’t get enough of, it’s gay men who write love songs to princesses.

You can give all the tickets back you want.  But there is one thing that can never be returned.  And that is the sense of security and trust that exists when constituents know that their government officials will put the public interest ahead of their own.  That’s been blown out now, like a candle in some sort of weather system.

Oh, and a word of advice, Mr. Rodriguez?  Don’t even think about trying this when Blue Rodeo comes on the 18th.  Or it won’t just be a garbage can that gets tipped over.  We’re talking six, seven cans minimum.

A critical look into the day’s top headlines

Jackson’s Neverland Ranch may go to the highest bidder; NAMBLA announces ambitious plan for Theme Park

Imagine you’re the real estate agent trying to sell Neverland ranch.  “Now, this is the master bedroom, with all of the comforts you can imagine.  What’s that? No, I’m not sure what that’s for.  And you probably don’t want to be touching that either.”

Islanders shocked by child abuse claims; Possible playoffs implications?

Note to self: When a reporter asks you about allegations of child abuse, you should always say you’re shocked.  Otherwise, you can bet there’s going to be more questions and more reporters.  (And yes, I know this headline is about abuse on Jersey Island, and does not in fact involved the New York Islanders.  But I’m still pretty certain that Alexei Yashin was involved.)

Health Minister ’seriously considering’ diaper test; Declares moratorium on Human Dignity

I’m no political analyst, but I’d say Mr. Smitherman is in serious danger of angering the only people who actually vote in general elections in Canada.  On the plus side: less shit-stained Sansabelt slacks. (more…)

I go to Salon.com a couple of times a week to glance at the articles. King Kaufman is a solid sports columnist, the War Room is an excellent source of current U.S. political info, the movie review section is pretty sound, and it’s always inspiring to read Camille Paglia when you start feeling guilty about saying something anti-feminist. However, the most exciting thing about Salon.com is Cary Tennis’ advice column, “Since You Asked”. It’s difficult to precisely explain what makes it so exciting, but I think I have figured it out: Tennis will often spice up his advice with batshit-crazy, stream-of-consciousness rambling that pretty well has nothing to do with the advice sought by his readers. You can usually follow him for a few paragraphs, but inevitably his writing takes a sharp left-hand turn into the village of “What The Fuck?”. If you like reading the equivalent of someone typing out his dreams, he’s the columnist for you. In his honour, Food Court Lunch proudly presents the first edition of “Crazy Shit That Cary Tennis Calls ‘Advice’”. Enjoy.

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Dear readers, we hate to be the ones to break this to you, but Steve “Static Major” Garrett has passed away at the age of 32. Who? Yeah, we had no idea either until we read this obituary piece on Idolator. It turns out that Mr. Garrett was the lyricist for the famous Ginuwine R&B classic “Pony”. Seeing that we don’t really know anything about him beyond that fact, we at Food Court Lunch believe that a fitting obituary for Mr. Garrett would in fact be the lyrics for “Pony”, a song that explores the fragility of life, the importance of living every moment to its fullest, and the tender love between a man and a woman, all through the coy literary mechanism of likening sex to riding a horse.

Sex: The Ginuwine Article

“Pony”

I’m just a bachelor
I’m looking for a partner
Someone who knows how to ride
Without even falling off

Gotta be compatible
Takes me to my limits
Girl when I break you off
I promise that you won’t want to get off

[Chorus]
If you’re horny, Let’s do it
Ride it, My Pony
My saddle’s waiting
Come and jump on it

If you’re horny, Let’s do it
Ride it, My Pony
My saddle’s waiting
Come and jump on it

Sitting here flossing
Peeping your steelo
Just once if I have the chance
The things I will do to you
You and your body
Every single portion
Send chills up and down your spine
Juices flowing down your thigh

[Chorus]

If we’re gonna get nasty, Baby
First we’ll show & tell
Till I reach your ponytail
Lurk all over and through you baby
Until I reach your stream
You’ll be on my jockey team

[Chorus]
[repeats and ends]

(Ride it)
(My Saddle’s)

“Send chills up and down your spine, juices flowing down your thigh.” A haunting epitaph, indeed. We do hope that there is room for this on the headstone.

As everyone in the Free World knows, today marks the greatest day on the sports calendar - the NHL trade deadline. And for Toronto Maple Leafs fans, today holds a particularly special place in their cold, dead hearts. For today is the day when the Stanley Cup drought in Toronto (coming up on four decades…) potentially comes to an end thanks to some clever backroom maneuvering and expert scouting by aged (interim) GM, Cliff Fletcher. After all, Leafs fans should not allow themselves to become crestfallen and dejected simply because their team is the most hated team in sports AND the worst team in professional and semi-professional hockey (field and ice). There is always hope on the horizon…

The 2007 First Round Draft Pick for the Toronto Maple Leafs

Fortunately for the Leafs Nation, the wait is finally over!! The new era of dominance ushered in by today’s brilliant moves by the savvy Leafs’ head office promises to be unparalleled…

Admittedly, when one takes a glance around the league, a few other teams also made some notable trades: Richards to Dallas, Huet to Washington, Federov to Washington, Ruutu to Carolina, Campbell to the Sharks, Lapointe to the Sens, Foote to the Avs, Hossa to the Pens… While these are all fine trades in their own right, they are but an amuse-bouche when compared to the veritable all-you-can-eat buffet that is the Toronto trade machine.

Leafs Training Camp

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Inside Segway dealership.  Michael Buffer stands at counter.

Michael Buffer:…and I want the hubcaps to be black, with a streak of silver.

Sales rep: Alright, sir.

Michael: Actually, instead of a silver streak, I want it to say “The Buff”.  In that fancy calligraphy style?  You know the one I mean?

Sales rep: Sure do.  That won’t be a problem.

Michael: (contented smile) Excellent.

Approaching sound of an electric motor.

Voice: Heh-heh-heeeeyyyy, bro!

Michael: What the…?

Bruce Buffer wheels up to counter on a Segway.

Bruce Buffer: What do you think of mah new ride?  (deep, exaggerated voice) Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-ty sweet, isn’t it?

Michael: Oh, for the love of…Bruce, what are you doing here?

Bruce: Just pickin’ up my new ‘Gway, brah!  Did you see the hubcaps?  They say “Ridin’ the Buff”.  Get it? Ride in the…

Michael: I get it, Bruce!  But I’M here ordering MY new Segway!

Bruce: Cool.  The more the merrier, I always say.

Michael: No, not cool, Bruce.  I told you last week I was getting a Segway!

Bruce: You did?  Well, that’s probably where I got the idea, then, ain’t it?  When is yours going to be ready?  We’ll take these babies out for a spin.  Scope out some young honies, maybe grab some mojitos…

Michael: (yells) NO!

Bruce: Huh?

Michael: (to sales rep) Will you excuse us for a second?

Sales rep: Sure.  Just let me know when you’re ready. (rolls eyes at Bruce as he walks away)

Bruce: What’s her problem?

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As our three loyal readers are all too aware, the investigative journalism juggernaut that is the Food Court Lunch news team never shies away from controversy (or fat chicks). We leave no stone unturned in our tireless search for the truth. Unfortunately, this thankless task often means that we are also the bearers of bad news. Sadly, my friends, this is one such occasion.

Last evening I was watching wrestling in my parents’ basement, as I have done religiously for the past 2 decades, when I noticed that the recipient of a particularly formidable flying thrust kick fell to the mat slightly in advance of the inevitable physical contact that was hurtling toward him. Initially I assumed that this was merely a clever ploy on his part, designed to lure his opponent into a false sense of security (and potentially a pre-mature victory celebration involving an elaborate end-zone dance). I soon realized that this assumption was flawed, however, as the “injured” party continued to writhe on the mat in what I now believe to be feigned agony. Words could not express my disappointment.

As I sat on my beanbag chair, struggling to come to terms with this disheartening display, I started to wonder: why is it that every other professional sport has been forced to endure some manner of controversy over the years, but professional wrestling has remained untainted? I had always assumed that this was due to the fact that the drug testing policies of the WCWs, WWEs and even the ECWs of the world were so rigid and strictly enforced that such leagues were impervious to the dreaded steroid scourge (bearing in mind that the Honourable Vincent P. McMahon was acquitted on those pesky roid charges in 1993…). Moreover, the stoic professionalism that underpins the world of professional wrestling simply does not abide controversy. In the words of the epic poet Homer (Simpson), they do not go in for those backdoor shenanigans. Or so I thought…

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So the Cavs think Ben Wallace has got something left in the tank? Good luck to them. The Hornets think Bonzi Wells’ self-destructive tendencies have cleared themselves up?  Who cares? 

Not the Raptors: they’ve got playoffs on their mind, and they’re not going to let anything get in the way.  That’s why they went out and got 7-footer Primoz Brezec at the trade deadline.

Pictured: Primoz Brezec (file photo: Awkwardly Large Parents Daily)

While news of this blockbuster trade went relatively unnoticed in NBA circles, people in Toronto are keenly aware of what this means for an optomistic Raptors team.  That’s right, fans: There’s still hope for an all-Slovenian frontcourt!!!!!

 Rasho!!! Primoz!!! Uros!!! Unite!!!!  Draw charge!! Clog Lane!!!

I finally made the connection — William Ligue Jr. was actually Eddie Guerrero. I am sure that Eddie’s experience with wrestling “run-ins” meant that his attack on Tom Gamboa was like second nature to him.

EXHIBIT A:

EXHIBIT B:

Case closed.

A critical look into the day’s top headlines

“Choking Game” Fatal For Many Kids; Michael Hutchence: “Told You So”

Fact: The inspiration behind INXS’ 1987 smash hit “Need You Tonight” was Hutchence’s belt. Same thing with “New Sensation”. “Suicide Blonde”? A prescient tune about Owen Wilson.

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