He’s Just Mighty Tired of Stale Ducks’ Jokes
I am making an appeal today to my brothers and sisters in journalism. It isn’t much to ask. It has to do with restraint. It has to do with humor. It has to do with running a stale joke into the ground.
It has to do with Ducks.
Please, on behalf of our reading and listening public, I am asking for an immediate halt to all unfunny lines that have to do with Ducks, Mighty Ducks, Mighty this, Mighty that, Duck this and Duck that.
For months now, I have not been able to watch a TV sports show, particularly ESPN--or, as I call it, ESPuN--or listen to a radio show or pick up a paper or magazine without somebody making some lame joke about Ducks, including jokes about lame ducks.
Please. I’m begging.
No mas.
No more dead Ducks.
No more daffy Ducks.
No more they have a quack at the title.
No more he got quacked into the boards.
No more he forgot to yell “Duck!”
No more the Ducks must foot the bill.
No more the Mighty Ducks made a mighty fine effort.
No more the Mighty Ducks gave a Mickey Mouse effort.
No more the Ducks paid the bill.
No more everything’s ducky.
(Editor’s Note: No human being under the age of 100 actually uses the expression “Everything is ducky.” This is a documented fact. This also applies to the phrase “He’s all wet,” which is used only by writers of bad TV when somebody is pushed into a swimming pool.)
No more the Ducks stop here.
No more Duck soup.
No more Ducks l’Orange County.
(OK, I liked that one.)
No more pond scum.
No more go jump in a lake.
No more wild-goose chases.
No more getting their goose cooked.
No more playing decoy.
No more “pond-ering” their fate.
No more “pond-emonium.”
No more out of the frying pan and into the fire.
No more this Duck’s a real turkey.
No more shaking a tail feather.
No more playing for Peter O’Mallard, Quack Kent Cooke or Webb Eubank.
(OK, those were mine.)
No more Disney on Ice.
No more he slid like Bambi.
No more Aladdin’s lamp couldn’t have helped this team tonight.
No more Donald Puck.
No more the Mighty Ducks met the Mightier Maple Leafs or the Mightier Canadiens.
No more Cardiac Canards.
No more Duck wings.
(Except where appropriate.)
No more poultry sums.
No more take a gander at this team.
No more come on in, the water’s fine.
No more “open season.”
No more two minutes for high-pecking.
(When we get a team called the Mighty Chicks, we’ll talk.)
There. Have we exhausted all the possibilities yet? Anybody else have anything they want to say? Speak up. Let’s get this out of our system today, then be done with it. Because I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life listening to these dumb Duck jokes, just because one of my hockey clubs got stuck with a screwy name.
The Mighty Ducks are playing pretty fair hockey for a first-time team. Ron Wilson is doing a swell job as coach. He has his skaters hustling, checking and overachieving.
This is more than anybody can say about the Kings, who are part way through their 80-game playoff tuneup.
So far, the best thing I can say about the Kings is that they got together with the Ducks for a very good cause Thursday night, playing a benefit game on their night off to raise money for fire relief.
The way the Kings are playing, fire victims might have to stage a benefit for hockey relief.
If it’s going to be a long winter in Southern California, with two NHL teams and two NBA teams all losing more games than they win, I figure the least we can do is spare their audience from months and months of mindless Mighty Duck malarkey.
I, for one, hereby promise to address Anaheim’s hockey franchise by its given name, and to afford their players the same respect that I would give athletes from any other team. And I strongly suggest that everyone else messing with the Ducks do the same.
What do you think they are, chopped liver?
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