Reilly “Apologizes” for Angering Canadians; Throws Wife Under Bus
Reilly came out with a column today entitled:
Kidding, Canada. I’m sorry I insulted you.
I’m not going to go through the whole column, it’s a bunch more stupid jokes about Canada, except a bit more specific than last time. You remember the column from Friday, yes?
So he doesn’t apologize. He cites two “angry” e-mails he received. One said,
“Are you sure you weren’t in Michigan?”
Woo Boy, you can just feel the anger oozing out of that statement. Here’s the other e-mail he cited:
“Yeah, it’s tough living in a city that’s consistently voted as one of the best places to live. … Bitter much?”
Turns out Reilly is very bitter. Because then he launches into another tirade about Canada and Canadians, and Canadians lying about the number of people of who watched a “boring” Opening Ceremonies. Blah blah blah. Sure, the opening ceremonies weren’t the most exciting thing in the world, but whatever. Here are a couple choice parts of the column:
The big, emotional moment — the lighting of the Official Olympic Giant Reefers — was botched. Only three of the Official Olympic Giant Reefers came up, and points are deducted for going for the quad and pulling only a triple. Although I did like torchbearer Wayne Gretzky being taken to the lighting of the Official Olympic Giant Outdoor Reefers in the back of a pickup truck. It was just him back there, holding on to a steel bar, riding through town. That is what’s known as a Canadian limo.
We get it, you think the torch holders looked like reefers. You can stop saying it.
Plus, it wasn’t a pick-up truck, it was some sort of SUV. So…there’s that. Sure the Opening Ceremonies had a bit of glitch, but so did the ones in Atlanta, when the thing wouldn’t fly up to the torch right away, and Muhammad Ali had to stand around, shaking, and wait for it to light.
Here, Reilly is also dangerously close to making fun of Wayne Gretzky, which will probably get him killed. I’d watch out, man.
Here’s another part:
The Canadian team’s promise to “own the podium” has not exactly come true yet. After the first weekend of competition, 30 medals were handed out, and only three went to Canadians. Perhaps Canada is leasing the podium out?
Yikes, two pretty even-keeled e-mails made you lash out like this? Geez, that’s pretty harsh, dude.
And also, remember it was you who made fun of them! They just got pissed of at you for that. And they’re justified in getting pissed, dude. And then you turn around and act like it was something they did in the first place. This whole “feud” you’ve got going on is just weird.
Anyway, my apologies, Canada. You are a very kind people living in a beautiful country that has given the world many kinds of bacon. As soon as it stops raining, I would like to make up for it by awarding the following Canadian citizens gold in other disciplines:
Dude! That’s hi-larious! Canada does have several types of bacon, including one that’s unique to their own country! How did we all miss that….wow…you should really market that. Maybe make a movie. You could call it, ummm, well, I dunno what you could call it, but I’ll tell you who would have perrrfect to star in it. John Candy. Damn…John Candy.
• The Canadian Olympic women’s hockey team, for beating Slovakia 18-0. Slovakia beat Bulgaria 82-0 almost two years ago in pre-Olympic qualifying. Eighty-two to nothing! Suck on that, Slovakia! How’s it feel? Canuck women rule!
I’m not sure what this is all about. Let’s move on.
• The Canadian fans who wait more than four hours at Robson Square to ride a 30-second zip line. And they wait happily! And they say “sore-ee” when they bump elbows accidentally! Do they realize they could build their own 30-second zip-line ride in four hours?
What’s wrong with not being loud-mouthed ass holes? Cause you’re making fun of them for not being loud-mouthed ass holes. You do realize that, don’t you, Rick?
• The guy who writes the messages that run on the front of the public buses here. About one-third of them come with a “SORRY” in huge letters, followed three seconds later by “OUT OF SERVICE.” You know a country is polite when the buses apologize to you.
Really, do not blame Canada. Blame me. And for all the Canadians who now hate me, I offer up this story of vengeance, which involved me, my wife and accidental nudity:
Hmmm….this isn’t going to end well.
We arrived in Vancouver to find our hotel had screwed up our reservation. We had nowhere to go, so the hotel allowed us to work out in the empty fitness room and shower there. But the women’s shower didn’t work, so my wife, Cynthia — a curvaceous blonde who would make a male figure skater drop his sequin gun — decided she’d shower in the men’s locker room. “But there’s no shower curtain in there,” she told me. “So you have to watch the door.”
1.) His wife was the 1980 Miss Junior California. As he tells everyone here.
2.) Congratulations, Rick. You have now sent 1,000s of (maybe more) guys to the googles and the yahoos and the bings and whatever else people use to search things. They are all now doing one of two things: 1.) Ogling your wife. 2.) Saying she’s beat and ugly. Those are the two options. I’m sure your wife apprecitates that very much. Good work, buddy.
Well, we were so alone in there, I never dreamed anybody would come in. Which is how I managed to miss the pool guy.
I heard a kind of muffled shriek, followed by the pool guy coming out of the men’s locker room with a squeegee in his hand and a quarter grin on his face, followed 30 seconds later by my wife, furious, wrapped in a towel, tromping across the floor, leaving behind a stream of water and whispering/screaming at me: “I thought you were going to watch the door!”
Interesting. How is this at all relevant? Also, imagine how furious she’s going to be when she finds out that “Rick Reilly’s Wife” rises exponentially up Google Trends.
OK, Canada. We’re even.
What? Excuse me? You’ve been pretty harsh (and unwarrentedly so) to an entire nation, and one pool boy caught a quick glance at your naked wife. So that makes it all OK? Good gracious. You certainly are not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you? Anyway, I’ll add some more fuel to the fire. Remember those angry e-mails that you cited above? The ones that weren’t really angry, and then caused you to apologize, but it wasn’t really an apology? OK. Good. Well, one of the readers here is a Canadian and e-mailed you, and then forwarded that onto me. I don’t know if you saw it, but I’ll post it below. It’s much worse than asking if you were talking about Michigan.
I’ll end with the e-mail. But before I go, I just want to say, that watching you slowly destroy your relationship with an entire country, while at the same time stripping your wife of her dignity is mighty entertaining.
I’ll let reader “INET”, do the honors:
Either I just don’t understand your article on Canadians, or you are the biggest hack I’ve ever seen. I’m from Alberta, so I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess the latter is true.
Your ‘article’ read like you visited every worn out Canadian joke site on the internet, and set your copy/paste function to turbo. I honestly, don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about on most points. “Beer” is pronounced… wait for it… “Beer”. “Whatnot” is a newfie term (yes, Newfie is correct), they don’t speak Canadian (when they get drunk, they don’t even speak english). I’ve never played “shinny” in my life, and “butt” isn’t pronounced “arse”, it’s called an “ass” and it’s phonetically pronounced “Rick Reilly”.
Nobody ‘bets 10 loonies’, we bet 10 DOLLARS, and yes, if you guys keep dumping vast amounts of money into the economy, we may get to name them ‘Lincolns’.
I’m sure ESPN was expecting something more than what a 14 year old girl can accomplish on her Myspace page when they hired you as a writer. Perhaps a good suggestion for an actual article would be something intelligible, original, and informative, instead of this last-minute-deadline-is-approaching piece of crap.
I suspect you might find Canadian much less polite if you came here and started spouting this belittling garbage on the streets.
You’d likely get dragged through the rain by a team of malamutes while the Arsee’s (you got that wrong, there’s no ‘m’ in the abbreviated form) pointed and laughed in our ‘jolly Canadian’ fashion. Then, after we send you home to let your healthcare system decide which hospital you need to go to, we’d all grab a double-double and head to the curling rink.