On a day when the Edmonton Oilers retired the number of my first childhood hero, they traded away my latest favorite. I was 9 when I watched the Oilers beat Boston 4-1 in 1990 to win their fifth Stanley Cup, the only one I was old enough to remember. Last year they were within one game of adding a sixth, and if they had do so Ryan Smyth would still be an Oiler, with a contract until retirement, and on the list of future jersey retirement ceremonies. I remember the shot of Mark Messier hoisting the Stanley Cup in 1990, flanked by Kevin Lowe and Jari Kurri, though now it seems like a different lifetime. Yet as though it was yesterday, I remember Ryan Smyth's lost teeth and overtime assist against San Jose, playing with the flu against Anaheim, and his glorious end to end rush in Game 6 of the Finals. These were supposed to be the start of a new set of memories, a first chapter in a new era of economic equality where the Oilers would content once again. Instead, since that empty net goal in Game 7, it's been nothing but repeated kicks in the teeth. Pronger, Spacek, Peca, Laraque, Bergeron, Samsonov, and now Smyth are gone, with no promise left but that of another rebuilding project.

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

-Rudyard Kipling

Gods and Clods

With the upcoming Academy Awards (5:30 MT, check your local listings!) about to fill one channel for about the same amount of time as the Super Bowl, it seemed like a natural time to analyze the disparity between mass markets and minority pretension. The Oscars, I don't know how to say this, are kind of a Big Deal. They have many leather-bound books and the auditorium smells of rich mahogany, though that could be Charlton Heston's cologne. It's usually the second highest rated show of the year after said Super Bowl, proving how easy it is to divide North America into two basic demographics. Forget 18-34 males and focus groups, TV viewers are either able to criticize Indianapolis' rush defense without Bob Saunders or criticize Halle Berry's Vera Wang without Eric Benet. For those of you who can do neither, you're qualified to tell me why my computer restarts itself constantly when I put the side case back on, but is fine when left open.

Back to the show. Like the U.S. presidential vote or the Grammy's, the Oscars are another venue to illustrate the gap between the masses' preference and those of the ruling class. In the last U.S. election, George W. Bush received 62,040,610 votes, or 50.73%. The eligible voting population is 200,760, 369. That means Bush received 30.09% support of the masses. In 2003, Steely Dan won Best Album over the Marshall Mathers LP. None of the nominees from last year's Academy Awards were the same as in the 2006 MTV Movie Awards. Obviously, there is considerable disparity between the preferences of the masses and the elite. The debate is whether or not this is a problem.

"Wedding Crashers" was selected Best Movie at the MTV awards that year, while "Crash" won the Oscar. Which film is more worthy of public celebration, one that celebrates the distracting opiate of slapstick humor, or one that points out the complexities behind racial behavior? The latter is certainly guilty of beating a dead horse, while the former probably would have literally done so if it tested well. On that subject, I'll try to find my point, since when I started I had one. If we let the masses have their way, sure, lots of god-awful artsy foreign films will find their way back to France where they belong, but the only thing that will replace them is Adam Sandler. Mass markets rarely recognize important subjects on their own terms, as evidence by the fact that Brokeback Mountain's box office gross was more a result of curiosity than any recognition of the important breakthrough being made. Enjoy Starship Troopers, but better read 1984 or Brave New World first. It's fine to take the opiate as long as you earned the distraction.

I AM AN ACCOUNTANT

GREETINGS. MY NAME IS LURR FROM THE PLANET OMICRON PERSEI 8. UPON YOU PUNY HUMANS I UNLEASH MY POWERS OF CRIPPLING TEDIUM, CAPABLE OF CRUSHING EVEN THE SHARPEST PUNY HUMAN MIND INTO A BLITHERING MASS OF GIBBERSOME, SHUDDERING GREY MATTER.

I'd like to put to rest some stereotypes, if I may. The jokes are funny, but please, a serious moment. Despite the way in which they are portrayed in the media, TV, and blockbuster action movies, accountants are not always dynamic, charismatic balls of spontaneity. Call me a politically correct sillynanny, but I feel the need to remind people that, shocking as it my seem, some accountants are actually restrained, cautious people who would just as soon do your taxes on a Saturday night as alphabetize, categorize and audit your grocery list. Yes friends, accountants need well-organized, pre-planned triple-stamped love too. Should you feel the need to express it to them, you will be required to submit a pre-application form, two reference letters from others towards whom affection has been previous expressed, a carbon copy application form outlining the proposed affection transaction, and a personal letter of Sentimental Intent.

Vegas Baby!

I know what you're thinking. Why don't they come out with an electric toothbrush that's also an MP3 player and recharges itself through its USB port? Stop letting that mind wander aimlessly and pay attention! As if you could hear the music over the brushing sounds anyways! The big news in these parts is my upcoming trek to that Mecca of good clean wholesome fun, that Saloon of Solemnity, that Den of Discipline, that Residence of Restraint, Las Vegas. I'll pause while you tell me how cool you think that is. You're not going to listen to music when you aren't brushing your teeth either! How much time do you spend in the bathroom anyways? Exactly!
The occasion is for a wedding of my buddy Marc who also deemed me fit to be in the wedding party. This will be the first time I've been in one, and I can't imagine how hard it's going to be to figure out a bachelor party plan down there. NO I'M NOT GOING TO ASK HIM, HE'LL THINK IT'S A STUPID IDEA TOO!
It's not until May and I'll be back with lots of scenery pictures, but those are the only kind.