Canada is like the second roommate everybody has. Your first roommate was a horror: He threw whiskey bottles at the cat and held a rave in the bathroom during Thanksgiving Dinner. You were so shell-shocked from that whole experience that anybody with sideburns starts seeming like an unquantifiable risk. So when you were looking for your next roomie, you opted for the boring guy: He's friendly, polite, courteous and an all around great person. You know what? That's not fair: He's not really "boring," so much as he is "lacking in drama." This guy rules. Chris, buddy, you rule.
And then the hockey game comes on, and suddenly you've got a fucking werewolf in your living room.
That's Canada. And this is hockey.
When the Vancouver Canucks lost 4-0 to Boston in the Stanley Cup Final, the entire city went Lycanthrope. If Dr. Jekyll is Universal Healthcare and clean cities, then this here is Canada's Mr. Hyde. He'd shake your hand, but he's a little busy right now carefully lining up to slapshot a smoking tear-gas canister into a net comprised entirely of suited-and-booted riot cops.
If there's anybody out there who's ever displayed a more callous disregard for fucks and the ability to give them, well, he didn't make it to the riot that day. Probably because he was too busy being South Korean.
Mark Duggan was shot dead by police on August 4, 2011, and half of England burned for it.
The other half got pony rides!
During the 2011 English Riots, there were many reports of looters stealing high-end cosmetics, designer handbags, electronics and jewelry. There were no reports at all of stolen rocking horseys ... but only because this man apparently burned everything in his wake while escaping. After all, it's kind of hard to file a report when you're a smoking corpse.
Special Bonus from the other side of this conflict:
Protesters don't have a lock on "looking badass in the midst of chaos." Here's the police force's polite rebuttal to all your precious Chaos and Anarchy.
"What's that you say? Smoke? Sir, I'll be with you in a moment. I'm busy pre-murdering the guy just to the left of frame with my steely gaze."
"Hey, fuck you piiiinnnNYAA*"
"Ahhh, much better. Now, you were saying, something burning? Oh, me? I'm burning? No, ha ha, no. I'm afraid I don't have time for that."
This man is part of a protest on behalf of the Mexican Union of Electricity. He's upset that the union he supports was disbanded by the Mexican government under allegations of corruption, and is attending one of many protests in an attempt to draw increased public awareness to his cause.
Oh, and he's also suplexing a Harley Davidson as an entire squad of armed police charge him while emptying their bean-bag cannons into his back.
That does bear some mention, I suppose, but back to the intricacies of the politics of Mexican unions. See, the Federal Electric Commission was all set to-
What's that? He's still doing it? He's never, ever going to stop doing donuts in the midst of a furious police charge while dressed in full Luchadore garb, complete with flowing cape and bitchin' electric fist shield? He's going to be doing that forever? Well that's understandable. How can he not? He's just discovered the best possible thing for a person to do. What choice does he have, but to keep doing it until the eventual heat death of the universe?
Everybody involved in this tableau of psychotic, unreasonable badassery has to know that there will never be a more awesome moment in their lives. Seriously, just look at the charging cop in the upper left:
That kind of pure, unrestrained glee has only previously been seen on the faces of starry-eyed children as they first push through the turnstiles at Disneyland. And now here it is, plastered firmly on the face of a fully grown man, who is also a member of the police force specifically tasked with stopping this moment from happening. But he's not going to; you know he's not going to stop it. If he ever does reach The Rioting Motorcycle Luchadore (dibs on the name for my firstborn), there's no way in hell that he's going to tackle and detain the bastard. He's either going to ask for his autograph or clasp his hands together and, with heartfelt earnestness glimmering in his wet eyes, whisper, "Take me with you."
You can buy Robert's book, Everything is Going to Kill Everybody: The Terrifyingly Real Ways the World Wants You Dead, or follow him on Twitter, Facebook and Google+. Or you can join him for his annual re-enactment of the Rioting Luchadore. You bring the motorcycle and the Luchadore gear; Robert will bring the riot police.
Check out more from Robert in The U.S. Army's Weed Weapon: A Paranoid But True Conspiracy and How a Biotech Company Almost Killed The World (With Booze).