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We here in the Great White North have many fine traditions surrounding our Nation's birthday. First and foremost, of course, is the consumption of near-lethal levels of beer, followed closely by the consumption of enormous quantities of charred bits of meat cooked over an open flame. To cap off the evening, bloated and drunken Dads from coast to coast to coast will pile their loved one into the family Sno-Cat and head to the nearest public park, whereupon they will ooh-and-aah over their local government's attempt to blow up and incinerate one and all with the awesomeness that is the annual firework display. Great, great times.
But there is one other tradition we hold near and dear to our hearts. July 1st is also Free Agent Day, which for hockey fans is Christmas ("Look what Santa Bryan left under my tree!"), their wedding day ("I promise to honour you as long as you make the breakout pass") and losing their virginity ("Man, this is awkward") all rolled into one.
Ordinarily, I'd be spending my day in front of the television, writing up snarky (and increasingly inebriated) comments on this here series of tubes for the consumption of literally tens of interested and equally lonely readers. Not this year. After spending my last two Canada Days having Pierre Maguire yell at me, I've decided to spend the day in the great outdoors (never too far from a television, mind you).
In the meantime, for a delightful take on Free Agent Frenzy I direct you to our friend James at Cycle Like the Sedins, who has once again skimmed the cream of the hockey blogosphere to put together a riotous series best described as The Agony and The Ecstasy of Overpaying A Third Line Centre. Oh, and I'm in there somewhere too.
So enjoy your day, fellow Canuckistanians. I'll be back later this evening to see what, if anything The Bryan hath wrought, provided my town council doesn't kill me with a bottle rocket. And probably bitch about Heatley a little more.
Happy Canada Day!
SLC
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