Yet Another Hazing Story

The more kids change, the more they stay stupid.

Hazing rituals have been a staple of team sports since, well, pretty much the dawn of time. Through human history, rites of passage and initiations often paved the way as a celebration or challenge as someone changed levels at something, be it age, social rank or whatever.

But get guys together, get them drunk, and their inner rapist comes out full throttle - which kind of explains why most of these end up with cocks and balls and assholes getting defiled in one manner or another - and even the third most prestigious university in the world isn't immune to it.

This time, a minor hockey team in butt-fuck Manitoba (pardon the pun) decided it would be funny to attach water bottles to kids' scrotums. 16 players were suspended - you need 20 to play a game, and most teams have rosters of up to 23 players, with healthy scratches.

But what happens when the suspended players return? No one thought they'd be pissed off for missing games which will lead to more shit going on inside the locker room?

I was never hazed in sports because as my team's starting goalie in hockey, they couldn't afford to have me undress between two periods, submit to the ordeal and perhaps miss a few minutes of playing time - as most hazing occured during tournaments in other cities, when most parents didn't make the trip. I did witness a few, and did intervene a couple of times (a six-foot, 200-pound teen can have that kind of clout), including when guys tried to have a girl on our team (Sophie, how I wonder what you're up to these days!) be subjected to something outrageous.

In football, making the team at season's end as a 9th grader, it was assumed I would also be on the team the following season, so they just held off for later, but because my coaches implicitly told me I needed to gain weight through steroid use during the off-season - which was not only contrary to my beliefs but a no-no for my hockey career, in which I represented my country and/or province on many occasions and therefore had to get tested regularly - I just quit and never showed up for training camp in Grade 10.

So while I personally avoided it, I have always been aware it existed - and always thought it was stupid, immature and at times dangerous.

What usually happened was the older guys hazed the younger kids for revenge, making their plight worse than what had happened the year before.

And each year it snowballs, to the point where broom sticks get shoved up peoples' asses and high-priced coaches lose their jobs. And NO ONE is the better for it.

No Limits

There's an ice cream shop a block from my place. And I was walking past it, on the other side of the street, but I was blinded by its flickering lights.

And I was surprised they made it to the other side, and caught myself thinking ''is this legal?''

And I was shocked that I thought it, then told myself ''it damn well better be''.

Dirty Old Dive Bar

One step in the poorly-lit bar and it already reeks of their sex. The walls are icky, slimy as snot but a translucent grey, like dying fish had been glued to it and never quite died but the stench intensified.

And I wouldn't mind it at all if it weren't for the vein in my left hand begging for the chance to rip my skin open and explode - I couldn't bear contracting the infection of dead cum without having at least fucked a 6 or a 7. Or a trashy 19-year old.

I keep wondering about the shit that goes on in there when I'm not around, seeing as they usually devolve pretty quickly even in my presence. And the shitty music never helps, either, fucking cock-rock classics of the 80s, country-rock classics of the 70s, nothing modern, nothing new - a fit representation of its patrons, who never would have seen the past 20 years if it weren't for the invention of penicillin.

Drunk fucking zombies on their automated poker machines, barely pausing for cigarette breaks, drinking 3% beer 'cause it's a dollar cheaper than the regular-strength stuff that, oddly enough, also tastes like stale piss.

This is the minor leagues of daytime drinking, populated with a few youngsters, sure, but mostly should-be-retired-by-suicide dreamers holding on to the last parcel of their youth, with memories of that one day in their life where it didn't rain shit on their heads, where maybe the right whore was a decent enough actress to make them believe in Love for even a second, their first used car, the first time seeing a plane in the sky, playing with a dog, or that first welfare check that seemed like so much money.

These dreams aren't broken, they're rusted, mouldy, holding on for their fucking life with fucking duct tape - but they're still there, alive. Working. Well enough to get from point A to point D in a haze, barely flipping over a few tables, perhaps with a black eye or two, but fucking standing.

And that's why the dried-up beer, the vomit, the blood - some of it clearly menstrual - and the cum add layer upon layer of goo on the tables, floors and walls, and why we all keep coming back. Hope.

Video Of The Week: Queens Of The Stone Age

Ah, Queens Of The Stone Age. They're the band I've been listening to the most lately, and I'm probably going to be playing this song at my next show, November 3rd, at Piranha Bar (pardon the plug).

Sure, I've made them Video Of The Week before, but who cares? Good music is good music, and theirs is great. Plus this song features Dave Grohl on drums - not just in the video, but also on the original recording. And lest we forget, Grohl, like bandleader Josh Homme, is also a drummer who is a singer-guitarist in another band (Homme plays drums for the Eagles Of Death Metal, and I'm sure you've heard of Grohl's Foo Fighters).

Speaking Of The ''Occupy'' Movement...

Either someone at Fox is going to lose their job for making ''those lefties'' look legitimate, or they'll find a way to make this about how the Republicans aren't out to screw people and will listen to their grievances.

Diddley Squat

Seems a little messed up that Elias McDaniel - Bo Diddley's son - was arrested in the Gainesville, Florida plaza that bears his father's name, just for supporting his local Occupy Movement ''chapter''.

Bill Maher And ''Occupy DC''

Love Bill Maher.

He should release all seasons of Real Time on DVD.

A Sad Day...

Tattooed Barbie 2011

Some moms have so little to do, they keep complaining about futile things, like Tattooed Barbie 2011 - there was a similar case in 2009.

I always wonder about those parents - with so many Letters To The Editor to write, Tea Party protests to attend, TV shows to scutinize and rap and rock musicians to try to ban from the airwaves and arenas, it's a wonder how they have time to even look at their children a few times a day, let alone look after them.

It's why this blog post touched my heart. Key quote:

Secondly, let's get real for a minute: Barbie has always dressed like a $5 hooker. (...)

I'm sorry, but when did tattoos become a symbol of immorality?

And when did we start taking toys so damn seriously?

NHL Goalies' Looks For 2011-12

If you check my collectibles blog once in a while, you'll notice I have a thing for (hockey) goalies. Sure, I used to be one, but I also think many of them look like the modern version of a Middle Ages warrior - and some, like Chris Mason of the Winnipeg Jets - pictured above - make their shitty team's jerseys look really cool with the right gear - and Brian's is always the right gear.

ESPN and Uni Watch have compiled a list of all the NHL's current goalies' gear a couple of weeks into the season.