Ken Dryden said...
[obviously drunk] Bloob -Thank so much for making a dreary Wensday so exciting. [starts crying] It's just that I'm so lonely. Evenings spent alone now. Rejean Houle says I'm aloof. ALOOF. You believe that? Gotta go watch the girl prison trailer again. Need sleep.
Ken Dryden, MP
The hockey goaltender; perhaps the most difficult and solitary position in all of sport and there is no more iconic image than that of Ken Dryden who immortalized this pensive pose (see photo) during his dominant years with the mighty Canadiens in the 70's.
"Those were some great years, the Stanley Cups, the parades and adulation, it was heady stuff." reminisced the lanky Ontario MP. "Still, I can't honestly say that I had a lot of friends on the team. I was one of a small group that could actually read and did so frequently to calm my nerves before games....I didn't have a lot in common with the other guys. I mean, Reggie Houle used to enjoy carving pieces of soap with a small penknife while joking around with the boys, Doug Riseborough was missing a part of his cerebral cortex!!...I'd be off in a corner reading Morley Calahan. It wasn't long before I started drinking."
Dryden left hockey and turned to politics all the while keeping his drinking problem a secret from family, friends, and constituents. In retrospect a series of endorsement ads he did may have been a warning signal:
The latest letter from Dryden indicates that things are getting worse. An unsuccessful run for the leadership of his party, a nagging weight problem, and an issue with perceived aloofness are all part of the mix. Now it's time for The Blob to step up to the plate and lend a helping hand. I'm planning an intervention/BBQ for the 12th of August but SHHHH...it's a surprise.
RSVP
I know that many of my readers and contributors have problems with alcohol addiction. I'm sure Ken would appreciate any advice or words of encouragement that you could offer.
8 comments:
As a product of an alcoholic household myself, I have learned a few tricks for avoiding the whole mess altogether, including: making a fool out of yourself at the various parties you organize as a way of pretending you're just a social drunk (pff, like anyone would buy that!), the revealing/incriminating emails you send to ex-SOs and the like, and of course, the inevitable hangovers, the only solution for which that you can contrive is to just start the party over again. The best way, I believe (and I am taking a page out of the party bear book on this one), is to start smoking what kids these days refer to as the ganj. Not only does it improve the state of your poor liver and your recycling bin, but it, like, swings the doors of perception so wide open and like, you can't go wrong..you're just out there, man, in the ether and... where am i??.....oh ya. you'll be glad you made the right choice! Stop alcoholism! Say no to hooch!
Lozenge.
Doug!! The occupational therapy is working wonders. You're not using "spellcheck" are you?
Welcome Maria and what a pleasure it is to hear from a 20 something with such a firm command of the written word. Your writing is both nubile and stacked with witticisms that would make others envious. Your precocious use of the double entendre in other posts (just to make sure we're on the same page, when you mention "other cardio-vascular activites;)" you're talking about raquetball right?)surely gets a rise out of my readers. You're devotion and ease around the perverted, uncle-like friends of your father is a rare and treasured gift. Never change and don't stop writing either. James Joyce and other famous authors were also drunkards and even if it leads to your early demise remember..."Tis better to go out in a hazy, cirrhotic, stupor than to never go out at all"
dear blob i don't wish to nag of course,but have you had a chance to talk over my idea with ms maria callous? perhaps if you told her that the three of us would become wealthy just like that (i have just snapped my fingers); clearly,iv'e already done all the heavy lifting; all you need to do is whisper in her pretty, shell-like ear (on second thought, better let me do that) those two magic words(foxey-boxing!). we'll be rich(!!!!) ya, ya, ya; your ken dryden piece was great.
Dear Anonymous,
Hide if you will but I have a feeling I know who you are. The age-innapropriate lusting and overall smarminess says musician and in particular low brass(and I mean that in every sense of the word)but how to choose. So many of my readers are trombonists, euphoniumists, and tubists and any one of them (except for Vivvy of course) could be the perverted lecher who calls himself "Anonymous".
This blog is carefully crafted as a safe haven for people, even wayward, unattached, and attractive daughters of my dear friends, to express themselves freely without fear of harassment. Please let's all remember this the next time we feel like using The Blob to promote some lame get-rich-quick scheme or as a cheap, cyber-type, pickup joint.
Thank you.
I'm so proud. If only my other child turns out as wise as Maria sounds in that letter she wrote. But Travis (Callous) is so busy playing those lousy video games or going out with his latest girl he doesn't have time to drink on Family Vodka Night anymore, so he'll never learn any of the Party Bear nuggets of wisdom that Maria has so ably spouted. Am I going to far if I say simply, "Ave Maria"?
Dear Blob, just yesterday, my mother and I were taking down bets to see how long my (albeit non-alcoholic) brother would last with his new girl (or ho-bag as we so often refer to them...we're such bitches, I know... hell hath no fury etc.). And I have to say that maybe my lil' bro has it right. If I didn't spend half-- actually it's more like most at this point--of my time drinking myself into a stupour with my dad's old, pervy, and excessively witty, friends, I might be out there shacking up with as many ho-bags (ho-bubs; ho-boys?) as I can find. I fear that mom is right. I'm just a chip off the ol' party block.
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