I Like Ice

So I've been busy trying to negotiate an end to the NHL lockout. I really don't know anything about hockey, can't even explain what "icing" is, or even why you should be penalized for something that is so tasty on a cake. But after over 700 missed games (c'mon, they were missed by someone)(Canadian are too someones), the owners and union decided they needed a fresh perspective. And no one's fresher than me.

My suggestion was for the league to play all their games outdoors. Don't laugh--they played one outside back in November 2003. In Edmonton. At night. It was a teeth-rattling, scrotum-tightening -1°F at game time. The good news is that hockey players don't have teeth. The bad news was discovered by the players' wives, which led to the briefly popular joke in Alberta, "Is that a popsicle, or are you just cross-checking me outdoors, eh?"

How would playing outdoors help end the owner-woes (it's not labor woes--the players got locked out)? Well, I'm not sure, but it sounds ridiculous enough to be fun. And besides, you want to see those drunk on Molson's and donuts fans lined up with their shirts off and O-I-L-E-R-S written across their naked chests. After the game, when washing off the paint, it's likely their nipples would just shatter.

In the meantime get in your Zamboni and get to where the ice is for cocktails, the way God meant it to be (you do know that in the original draft of the Sistine Chapel ceiling, God is handing Adam a martini; God rested on the seventh day with one mean hangover).