I spoke at great length to the very wise, "Whizz", in regard to this photo and these claims of new frontiers. As we all know, the world is FLAT. It ends in Windsor, at the Great Lakes, and somewhere North East of Toronto in the barren wilderness. This photo is infact taken with a painting in the background.
Whizz' careful considerations, just before passing out on the bar for his afternoon nap.
"Churr, dats nod no place. Dats de scum dat cumz up on a pail oh fish."
"Loog carebully in de bag-ground. You kin see de paint brush marks. Nobody would build houses at de boddom ub de mountins like dat. De rocks, dey'd fall off de mountin 'n squish de peoples and der houses. Ebrybody nose de worl', she be flad."
"Green. Obechkin. Dey can have 'em. Draff Mush Marsh. Eddie Shore. One-eyed Frank McGee. Doze were hockey players."
I objected to Whizz, pointing out that all the players he wanted me to draft were dead.
He didn't respond. He was sleeping on the bar, yet once again.
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