Instead of writing an article about how the turn of events in the 2009-10 Oilers season makes us want to have a hoot from the exhaust pipe of the WanyeMobile™, how about your ol’ pal Wanye tells you about his trip to Amsterdam while we sit on a bus to Switzerland, looking out the window and worrying about a hockey team half a world away? Yeah. Totally.

For many folks, Las Vegas is the ultimate destination for having a good time. Put a wedding on the horizon of any red blooded man and he will assemble a strike team and head off to Vegas, certain that the boys are headed to the sinningest sin factory in all of Sindom. We can now say with great certainty that Las Vegas isn’t cool enough to hold Amsterdam’s business as it took a whizz. Vegas is to Gilbert as Amsterdam is to Souray. One tries hard to achieve a certain level of success but pales in comparison to the Real Deal who is much better and pulls it off effortlessly, looking sexy in the process.

When we arrived in the Red Light District in Amsterdam, we were expecting half of the people walking around to have heroin needs sticking out of their eyes and the other half to be prosties wandering around like zombies. Instead we found a nice canal district with a bunch of really cool pubs. We also found long-time OilersNation reader humantorch right where he said he would be exactly at the appointed time. We figured if a long-term resident of Amsterdam still had the brain capabilities to arrive on time, it can’t be as crazy as we thought.


Amsterdam is the craziest place we have ever visited. And not crazy in a "people get super effed up and fall down vomiting in the street and bleeding from their eyes" crazy, but crazy in a "everything is legal here and people calmly stroll down the street pleasantly chatting with their walking companion despite the fact model-hot call-girls dance seductively in the windows and a mysterious smoke blows out of every other door."

Classified portions of visit

We will gloss over the specific details of our enchanting evening for three reasons:

  1. Out of respect to Humantorch. Your ol’ pal Wanye is a garden variety degenerate but the ‘torch is certainly not. To imitate some pale shade of his Euro cool we won’t spill the beans on all of our endeavors.
  2. Cameras are banned in the Red Light district and this ban is enforced by enormous Russian men. Consequently we have no photos to illustrate what went on.
  3. WuTang and Wanye are for the children. We were amazed to learn from the Citizen Survey that roughly 5% of the Nation is under legal age. As a result we don’t want to condone or suggest anything to impressionable eyes.

But we can speak in generalities and we can tell you this:

We got effed up.

When we tell you we got effed up in Amsterdam, know that we got E-F-F-E-D up. We got so effed up that baggedmilk emailed us from his sex change operation in Thailand to say, "As a fellow travelling scuzzbag you need to calm down." We got so effed up that Amy Winehouse walked by and noted aloud, "Damn, that guy is effed up." We got so effed up that humantorch said, "I see you aren’t pretending in your articles."

But not humantorch—he kept it calm as a bomb and guided us through a hilarious tour of the area, pointing out the sights and noting "its cool over there, but I think you might want to stay over here Wanye." Over a baker’s dozen of pints, we discussed matters of great import, potential trade routes, the Oilers current state of incalculable woe and the like.

An imperial decree

For his outstanding work conceiving of the drive to send Gregor to the entry draft and raise money for the Stollery and for his ability to lead us around the red light district and show us all the *really* cool places, we took the opportunity to found the first formal embassy of the OilersNation in Amserterdam and have named Humantorch as Ambassador.

Ambassador Humantorch was given his embassy starter kit — an OilersNation T-shirt, three Nation stickers and a du Maurier king-size cigarette — to maintain our collective beachhead on the continent. He is the official representative of the OilersNation in Europe, can provide emergency assistance to Citizens in duress and has complete diplomatic immunity for all eternity.


Upon entering Amsterdam our helpful tour guide told us that over a quarter million bicycles dumped in the canals each year. 250,000! Dumped right in the canal as if to say, "Swim bicycles! Swim to freedom!"

Ambassador Humantorch helpfully explained that the tour guide was correct and the reason why all of this bicycle dumping can occur: 99% of Dutch bicycles look exactly the same. He put a Mac sticker on the back of his fender or apparently it would have been forever lost the first day he took it out of his house. Why someone hasn’t taken the time to revolutionize the Dutch bike industry with something crazy — like painting one blue — we will never know but the Ambassador assured us that it would most certainly raise the water table and ruin all the Dutch Dykes. Then I said, "That’s what she said" and the ‘Torch rolled his eyes.

This is the kind of inside information that makes you an Ambassador, Nation. We heartily salute Ambassador Torch and thank him for his contributions to the Nation. Isn’t that right Dutch McDonalds garbage can?


Speaking of getting effed up…

Ladies and gentlemen — Tiger Woods!

*Hold for applause*

We are actually impressed more with Tiger Woods now than we have ever been. It’s not that we condone cheating on your wife, but our sole criticism of TW has been his robotic approach to the game of golf and to life. "Why doesn’t Tiger put out a rap album or be involved in a scandal of some sort?" we have often wondered aloud.

Well Tiger has heard our prayers and he doesn’t do anything half way now does he? Cheating on your Swedish bikini model wife, getting busted and having her kick your ass only to try and make an escape in your Escalade only to drunkenly smash it into a tree?

That’s just fantastically scandalous by anyone’s standards. Well done, sir.