Something I like about Canada: Their donuts and coffee. Not only their donuts and coffee, but Canadians’ loyalty to donuts and coffee. There was nothing more satisfying than being in the Square One food court and seeing a line up 15-people-deep at Tim’s while Starbucks had barely a customer.
Cynically, I think the popularity has less to do with Canuck branding and more with simple “calculus”.
Starbucks can go ahead and charge +$4.00 a cup, but no Toonie-totin’ Trontonian is forkin’ over more than $2.52 Canadian, which last I checked was the price of a large double-double.
So now you know Tim Horton: the donut…
But do you know Tim Horton the man? Sure there was a Tim Horton. Played defense for the Leafs until his untimely death in 1974. He was killed in an auto accident on his way to a game in Buffalo.
Anyway, my point is there are some things so Canadian and endearing that they deserve to be exported and enjoyed the world over.
Then there are others that should stay home in the closet with your old smelly hockey skates.
Yes, I’m referring to the darlings of the Canadian music industry and winners of 89 Junos The Tragically Hip (band spoiler: If you think The Hip is the cat’s puke, stop right here)
Listen this sad-sack outfit tried to make ground down here stateside on a number of occasions and they lulled the nation to sleep. They may sell out the Air Canada Center north of 40, but down here they barely managed to fill Cats Cradle (I think capacity is 75).
The reason is simple, yes they have a few good song: Courage has some handy guitar work, Blow at High Dough – hell, who wouldn’t prefer that at the hockey game over Who Let The Dogs Out. The problem is some marketing genius has tried to turn them into Canada’s U2.
This is U2:
This is The Tragically Hip:
The only thing worse than this pretentious bag of hosers is having Gord Downy pontificate to another pretentious hoser-windbag on – pretension of pretensions – The CBC!!!
This is George Stroumboulopoulos (aka, Strombo). Strombo is what passes for sexy in Canada: A hairy guy dressed in black (one shade away from a lumberjack shirt) suckin’ on a Labatt Blue. Hands off girls, he’s mine.
Strombo hosts an evening entertainment show called The Hour (and believe me this trendy turkey feels like the whole 60 minutes). It’s sort of like The Daily Show… without the funny… and 30 minutes longer.(think Klassic Krusty when Krusty interviews AFL-CIO head George Meany).
Oh did I mention it’s 60 minutes long?
Watching Strombo and Gord chew the fat was like watching paint dry (the kind with lots of oil that takes a long, long time).
Then the band played a bland set and I got bored and switched to Futurama.