Glenn Kubish

John Sexsmith was good with words. Let's try that again. John Sexsmith was magic with words. He loved to cast spells with words. He loved to use words to make meanings appear and disappear out of thin air. That's what a pun essentially is, right? A bit of hocus focus.  I first saw Johnny's deftness with the language in a TV news feature sports story he did back in the ITV News/Global Edmonton days. All I can really remember about the piece is that he did his standup in a military tank. "This," he said to the camera, "is the tanks we get?!" Boom. I laughed out loud.  For years, we kept the joke going. If either of us saw a propane tank or an acetylene tank or a septic tank, we'd send each other a note. The joke grew. If we were chatting about bicycles, someone would use the line, and this is the cranks we get? A Bugs Bunny reference would lead to, and this is the Mel Blancs we get?! An actor in the news: this is the Tom Hanks we get?! A hotdog stand: ...

Facts are facts, and, so, eventually (or in six games, whichever arrives first), we all have to face the Brad Marchands in our lives.  It is anathema for me to praise Florida Panthers winger Brad Marchand.  I am an Edmonton Oilers fan, and have been since the days of the World Hockey Association. I am an old-enough Oilers fan to have seen, with my own eyes, Jacques Plante play for Edmonton at the Coliseum against New England Whalers’ star Gordie Howe. I am a crazy-enough Oilers fan to have been arrested for throwing firecrackers onto Jasper Avenue during a Stanley Cup victory parade. (I was released because officers were more urgently needed up the block at a fur store break-in. When I say released, I mean from the neck.) I am a tradition-bound-enough Oilers fan to have passed on the identity to my sons. One of my grandsons walked around during the Cup playoffs with three stuffed toys: 1. Woody 2. Buzz Lightyear 3. Ryan Nuygent-Hopkins. No one should doubt my hometown team cre...