Who would you most trust to kill a man with their bare hands?

To me that question is an apt one to ask of a head coach of the Toronto Maple Leafs. We Leafs fans are not rational people. Nay, we're the sort to hang on to our shreds of dignity, our failing hopes, and the words of the most low-level trainers with equally morbid voracity. So really, killing a man for the sake of our team is pretty much above board.

Pictured on the right is our current head coach, and generally fat bastard, Pat Quinn. Ol Quinny hasn't brought much to the table, in my opinion. He's a man who paired Jonas Hoglund with Sundin for 3 consecutive seasons. Hoglund. A man so incompetant, he was given a shot at the bottom-dwelling Panthers training camp, and was rejected. Quinn is a guy who has held fast to his loyalties to Antropov, possibly the weakest hitting and most injury prone big guy I've ever seen on skates. It's like he's made out of feathers that snap on contact. A man who stuck with Karpotsev and Korolev and a whole slew of useless piles of crap along those lines. A man who doesn't believe in matching lines, because that's evidently too involved / logical.

And really, his face betrays this incompetance. Look at that smug, "I'm a big dope" kinda grin smacked all over him. I wouldn't trust this guy to kill much other than a bottle of scotch.

Pictured left is (hopefully), the coach of the future. Paul Maurice, the man who brought the generally panned Carolina Hurricanes to the Eastern Conferance final. The man who looks like his eyes could shoot lasers, and his mind could do unseemly things to yours. Look at that steely gaze... you don't mess with that. If you're playing for him, I can only imagine you'd quickly develop a fear for your life, and the lives of your family, and you play your little heart out.

Doesn't he look dangerous, just staring down pathetic Pat? Doesn't Pat look just a touch less comfortable than he did a minute ago?

Please, Leafs management. Just make this fan happy and make the switch. Think of the children. Specifically those Maurice clearly eats every night he isn't a major league coach.

I heart andy

Ring the bells and get out the good china, Andy Richter is back on the air! No more playing second fiddle to the partially translucent Olsen twins for this buster, no siree! TV fodder reports Andy's imminent and doubtless triumphant return:

He may no longer control the universe, but Andy Richter certainly gets a lot of sitcom offers. The Hollywood Reporter says that Richter is reteaming with his former lord and master, Conan O'Brien, for a sitcom called "Andy Barker, P.I."

Now while he probably won’t be as sexy as Magnum, there could possibly be a moustache involved. NBC has already ordered the pilot, which revolves around an account that moves into a private investigator's old office. When he can't stir up any new clients, he starts answering the calls of people looking for the previous tenant.

I for one (as if my brimming euphoria wasn't already palpable), cheer this move by NBC. Andy's original shot at the solo (sans Conan) limelight was the far too short Andy Richter Controls the Universe, which was honestly one of the best shows on at the time. Alas, it fell victim to Fox's zany corporate mindset, which apparently equates anything "good" with "very very horrible", and so often shuffles it around the schedule till it dies a death not befitting its clear quality.

This has happened time and time again, see Firefly, Family Guy (such a bad move, they actually reversed it after massive DVD sales), Futurama and most recently Arrested Devlopment. All the while, leaving dreck like the Simpsons (which, while brilliant between the second half of the second season through to the first half of the 8th, has since become one of the most painful viewing experiences on the planet) on the air, sucking up valuable time that could be devoted to our dear pal, Andy. I'm 90% sure there's a slew of other terriffic shows that have been canned for no good reason, but my brain is playing tricks of the forgetful variety at the moment.

Evidently then, Fox has the most brilliant development division on the planet, and far and away the worst means of evaluating their shows.

I mean, Man vs Beast is all well and good from time to time, but let's get real. Thank god Andy is back.

Lost Oscars

I'm generally a fairly strong proponent of the Globe and Mail. As far as daily newspapers go in these parts, it's usually the most even-handed, centrist, impartial source available... It also featrues mildly competant writing now and then, which is sadly miles ahead of the competition. That said, they really fumbled the Oscar ball.

As many of you faithful readers who happen not to live in caves or under particularly mossy rocks already know, the Academy Awards were last night. Yes, that joyous occasion when all of Hollywood's finest parade around in slightly nicer clothes than usual, and act slightly more self-important than usual. Honestly, when else could you see Ludacris in a tux? Or Charlize Theron wear an absurdly sized bow, one that is so massive, it appears to be either trying to eat her, or trying to make sweet love to her shoulder. Possibly both.

Now I dont know about you, but I'd say the only awards of real interest are Best Director, and Best Picture, last night going to Ang Lee for Brokeback Mountain, and Crash respectively (ooh, what an upset! Looks like the academy is hedging their bets in hopes of regaining support from the homophobic-but-artsy lobby).

So imagine my surprise when today's copy of the Globe and Mail features exactly zero mention of either of these winners. That's right, on the day after the Oscars, you can read today's Globe cover to cover, front to back, without learning who won either Best Director or Best Picture. For me, even with only a passing interest in either the Oscar race, or the overal integrity of the Academy's choices (Chicago takes best pic? Oh come on!), this is a very odd omission. What if the Globe was my one source of news? What if I lived in a hut in the woods, somehow outside of all radio and TV signals, away from a phone, without access to the internet, with only my loyal canine Cujo keeping me company as a modestly sized carp roasts on an open fire (made entirely from scratch, without use of matches or a lighter)? What then? Nevermind the fact that in such a scenario the Globe would likely refuse to deliver to me (especially after I scared off all their whiny delivery boys). Additionally nevermind the fairly obvious fact that someone in my position likely couldn't care less about the Oscar race, or really anything outside of where I'm gonna conjure the next delecable carp. The Globe would have soundly failed me.

And honestly, I can understand the need to get to print. But the Oscars ended at something like 11:30 at night. Just keep your hand off the button for a split second more and you're home free. Not just that, you put the silly headline "Brokeback coralls an Oscar" on the front page, and advertise a list of the winners within. False advertisement I say! The only oscar you list Brokeback winning is best adapted screenplay... not really what your readers are gonna expect when they open up their papers. C'mon guys, get with the program, and the rest of the modern world.