Canadianity Read online

  A great friend of mine, Tim Oxford, who used to edit my old podcast, Taggart’s Take, got on board as well to put the files together and drop in fave bits in the breaks. He’s been such an important part of TnT. When he’s not too busy drumming in his band, the Arkells, he’s editing our episodes together in dressing rooms, hotels or tour buses. Such a great guy from a great family that I’ve known since the late ’90s.

  The fact we were just enjoying the conversation was the fire that built and maintains TnT today. It’s really just two bahds having a good chat. The buzz was always generated at the grassroots through word of mouth. We always said we’d be huge if we could get the podcast onto iTunes—an ongoing joke for about a year after we started—and oh boy, when we hit iTunes in January of 2015 (thanks to technical bahd Mike MacFarlane), the Canadianity hit the fan! We instantly saw our download numbers skyrocket—a couple thousand downloads an episode became fifteen thousand plus. People started binge-listening to us and the mail started pouring in from bahds all over Canada and even the world. Folks were saying they felt like they were in the room with us. They were laughing out loud on buses or while walking down the street, getting weird looks from others. They were escaping with us for an hour of their lives, just enjoying the Canadianity, right up to two million downloads!

  Hitting the road was the next thing we wanted to do—to find the bahds in person, so we could get a better idea of who they are and, in a way, find out the true meaning of Canadianity.

  Torrens

  It’s kind of full circle for Jeremy and me to be doing Taggart & Torrens. People often ask what we intended when we started. Not sure we really knew. Pretty sure we still don’t. But we quickly bonded over John Candy, absurd characters in peculiar situations, and this beautiful country.

  I’m “that guy from that show.” He’s “that guy from that band.” Together, we’re candid and curious. Cautious and adventurous. Taggart and Torrens.

  On the surface, we might be different, but our core values are the same. We both started out on our professional paths at a pretty young age. We’re both family men with a low tolerance for arrogance. Taggs is probably softer than he lets on, and I might be harder. We both love to tell and be told a good story.

  Also, as insignificant as it may seem, Taggart & Torrens sounds good together. People love alliteration. We’re both JTs. Our names have the same number of syllables. We had a short conversation early on about whether it should be Taggart & Torrens or Torrens & Taggart, and both agreed it should be the former.

  I have a theory that it’s because your ear hears “tattered and torn,” so it just feels right. Also, ever notice how, with “couple friends,” there’s a name order that works better? “Travis ’n’ Tina” flows better than “Tina ’n’ Travis.” Same thing with TnT.

  Jeremy’s good for me, in that he’s more apt to just “feel it,” whereas I’m apt to produce it. Given my background, I really wanted us at first to at least have tent poles so we had something to hold the episodes up. A guest in segment one, a game in segment two, a story in segment three.

  Turns out we didn’t need that. In fact, the less we prepared, the more we just riffed and spritzed, the more bahds liked it. And so did we, actually. It was fun to freestyle without a net. The risk/reward ratio is higher because sometimes things fall flat, but when they work, they really work.

  Podcast purists have taught me a lot. Terrestrial radio is limiting because you have to listen Wednesday at eight. Pod bahds want to download six eps and listen to them all while ice fishing on Saturday afternoon. Or on the drive to their folks’ cottage at the lake. Or in their cubicle while pretending to work.

  Podcasts are to radio what the internet is to TV. It gives all the control to the consumer. Once I wrapped my head around that, it was so freeing.

  Almost like the TPB/Netflix experience, TnT doesn’t have anyone at the “network” weighing in on our Top Fives, or suggesting that our workplace morning-radio sketch “Jer Bear and Colleen in the Morning” is sexist. It isn’t sexist, it’s a parody of a man and woman who hate each other but are forced to work together. This happens in real life and is worthy of mocking. Especially the part where he makes more than she does.

  A character like sexy Spaniard Salvador, for example, would probably never make it to TV because it would fall under the banner of cultural stereotyping. It was absolutely born out of that clich-eh—just like Canadians being nice—but dialled up to a cartoonish outlandish degree.

  The thing about comedy (which TnT is some of the time) is that it has to reflect someone’s point of view. When it tries to be all things to all people, it stops being anything to anyone. That’s often why network comedies don’t work. Too many cooks. At TnT we have only two cooks.

  All this to say we’re drunk on our own power. That’s the upside. The downside is we don’t get paid. Like, at all. Creative freedom also means we’re not weighed down by any stacks of money. But that’s okay. We started doing the show for the right reasons and the rest will fall into place.

  After all, here we are writing a book for HarperCollins, no less. There’s a page turn no one saw coming.

  When we started touring across the country, we realized that BAHDdism was bigger than both of us. It’s a full-on religion. Bahds were making plans to meet up beforehand and promising to stay in touch afterwards, bringing us pictures, stickers and stories.

  It was so uplifting to see the pride folks showed in this country and how the poddy had brought them together. We’ve heard countless stories of how bahds have found each other in the unlikeliest of places. Almost like a secret handshake, a whispered question—“Are you a bahd too?”—unlocking the code to instant friendship.

  The best compliment we get is that listeners feel like they’re sitting in the backseat listening to two bahds shoot the poo up front. I’m always surprised at how a character we made up and only appeared once in, say, episode 7, will stick with people. To the point where people will call out, “Do Malcolm!” at a live show and we look at each other like “Who’s Malcolm?”

  Maybe the biggest kick we get is from hearing from folks overseas—teaching English or hiking or foolishly chasing love—saying the poddy is like a care package from home. I dig that so much, thinking of people half a world away, eagerly anticipating this little weekly ping from across the pond as a remedy for homesickness. Tim Hortons Chicken Soup for the Wandering Canadian Soul.

  See, that’s what we should’ve called this book.

  So there’s Canadianity nailed down. One last bit of business before we hit the road across the country on this epic word journey: in true Canadianity fashion, we didn’t want to place the provincial chapters in any particular order, suggesting that west was somehow best or east was least. So we started with Prince Edward Island and Ontario because we were born there and we thought it’d give you the chance to get to know us a little better. From there, we jumped around more than Tie Domi in a tilt.

  Canadianity Glossary

  Here are some other TnT terms that you might find useful.

  Alan Doyle A term coined by Jeremy, used as a verb, that means to fall on the sidewalk but recover gracefully. “I Alan Doyled it right in front of the bus stop!”

  Alert alert! Borrowed from Jeremy’s daughter, Aneliese. “Alert alert! John is taking a cookie!” or “Alert alert! Glass Tiger tickets go on sale today!”

  bahd Slang for “bud.” One who is kind in the way only Canadians can be. “Thanks for lending me your Sherwood PMP stick for street hockey, bahd!”

  Bahddism The religion of being a bahd. There is a Bahddist movement.

  birlin’ The act of log rolling. Rose to fame in the classic animated National Film Board interstitial Log Driver’s Waltz. “I’m birlin’ into the Legion because it’s Friday night—buck-a-pitcher on draft!”

  Bruce A jerk. “Some Bruce parked behind me and I can’t get out.”

  butterfly laughter According to the Orange Julius website, this is the mystery ingredie
nt in its delicious beverages.

  Canadianity As discussed, too personal to define. For us, it’s hundreds of bahds showing up at a live TnT show in Saskatoon during a snowstorm.

  Canajianwaysss What Jonathan’s South American character Salvador admittedly doesn’t understand after his pervy advances are rebuffed.

  classic Taggart’s label for something instantly unforgettably funny.

  crunch crunch crunch The sound of a greasy businessman freshening his breath with Tic Tacs before getting right into things with a lady.

  darts Cigarettes. “I didn’t know Kelsey was on the darts!”

  day boiler Daytime drinking session resulting in getting drunk.

  Frig off, pecker! On the TnT fake sitcom Andrea N Them, Jonathan’s East Coaster character Andrea uses this as her flirty catchphrase.

  ghirlst How PEI magician Mr. Magic pronounces “girls” (in Jonathan’s mind, at least). “What did yas do with the eggs, ghirlst?”

  Holy boats! A Taggart staple meaning “wow.”

  peanut brutal Torrens’s way of expressing that something was awful.

  right friggy How Andrea describes the feeling in her tummy when she’s nervous.

  right on In this case, a seemingly positive response, used to diffuse a negative situation. It’s hard to combat. “I overcharged you? Right on!”

  taquitos A culinary delicacy served only at Irving gas stations.

  weekend bumsies When you’re not officially on the darts but might hit someone up for the odd one on the sidewalk outside the bar.

  whatev-salad Taggart’s expression for “Who cares?”

  yaz Second-person plural in the Maritimes. “Are yaz coming over for dinner?”

  Yiker’s Island A bastardized version of “yikes,” paired with New York penitentiary Rikers Island.

  Prince Edward Island: Spuds and Bahds

  Bahd Bands

  Haywire

  Paper Lions

  Cat MacLellan

  Tim Chaisson

  Boxcar Dan

  Rose Cousins

  Raccoon Bandit

  Al Tuck

  Kinley Dowling

  Lennie Gallant

  Five Notable Bahds

  Boomer Gallant. CBC weatherman. Local legend. Used to call the harness races.

  Brad Richards. NHLer from a fishing town. Won a coupla Cups.

  Heather Moyse. Her sports resumé is undeniable: three-time Olympian, two-time gold medal winner, multisport athlete who has repped Canada on the world stage in bobsleigh, rugby and cycling. But it’s her charitable work that elevates her to true bahd status: Right to Play, Special Olympics, Camp Triumph and Boys & Girls Clubs, among others.

  Lorie Kane. First female golfer from PEI to be best in the world.

  Matthew. Anne of Green Gables’s uncle. Despite Anne’s shenanigans and Marilla’s constant nitpicking, Matthew held it down, being a constant and calm presence for that girl with the red hair.

  The Fixed Link

  Torrens

  It makes sense to begin where it all began, with the Fathers of Confederation in the birthplace of our nation, PEI. Now, those bahds could put away some suds.

  I was born in Charlottetown and lived in Sherwood, just outside of town, until I was about twelve. What an incredible place to call home, especially in the summer.

  I remember getting to the cottage on Friday nights and realizing we’d forgotten something at home—hamburger buns, say, or one of my siblings. My mother would say, “I’m not driving all the way back to get it.”

  All the way back. Fifteen minutes. It didn’t even occur to me at the time that the Island might be small. It was all I knew.

  Every time I’m home, my senses become heightened. The mud is so red, the grass so green, the sky so blue. On the south shore, the water is so warm. On the north shore, the sand is so white. On the dunes at Greenwich near St. Peters, the coastline is seemingly endless. But you might find yourself suddenly in a turf war with aggressive seagulls who aren’t used to sharing the unspoiled beach.

  And yes, the people are so friendly. The fish, lobster and oysters are so fresh. Cows ice cream is so good. Might I suggest the Gooey Mooey?

  It’s a magical place, and if you’re from there, you know this. If you visit, you can feel it. One year at the Rick Vaive Celebrity Golf Classic in Charlottetown, as a kid I watched Gretzky drain a 7-iron from 180 yards right into the cup. See? Magic.

  As kids, we also frequented a place in Cavendish called Rainbow Valley that prominently featured a gift shop that was a spaceship. This was a routine destination for us, and nobody found it odd. On PEI, anything was possible.

  In typical small-town fashion, people still give directions based on dated landmarks. “Turn left where the Esso used to be, and then it’s just before Elliot’s place.” Some still call it Towers Mall when Towers department store hasn’t been there since Trudeau (the OG Trudeau).

  There was something so comforting about growing up on an island. It was like the isolation made us somehow safe from harm. We even “banned the can” in the interest of public safety. Then suddenly a fixed-link bridge was up for discussion, and Islanders worried about “Moncton crazies” coming over every weekend and burning the place to the ground. Like they had nothing better to do.

  On the plus side, it turned out the fixed link would also give us Islanders a way to escape the long winter months. I’m talking “no school for five days until our road could get plowed” winter. High winds. Flat surface. Major snow. Ferries and flights cancelled.

  On a side note, they used to interview tourists live on CFCY radio as they waited for the ferry. Where are you from? What did you do on the Island? Those kinds of questions. I once heard a woman from Georgia say, in her sweet southern drawl, “My husband and I had the nahcest tahm here on PE-1.”

  PE-1? How long were you on PE-1 that no one set you straight on that?

  That bridge was such a crazy undertaking. They used satellite technology to place the concrete girders in the ocean, and they could land them within one millimetre of accuracy. Bananas for back then. The thing that really blew my mind as a kid is that they had accounted for a certain number of deaths in the building of the bridge. Makes sense, I suppose, that a project of that magnitude would have crazy risk, but imagine working in that environment, where people are expected to die! Yikes. “Have a great afternoon out there, Terry. No dying, eh?”

  At least they came in under budget on that front.

  They held a contest to name the bridge, and one Grade 5 class came up with “Span of Green Cables,” which I thought was genius. That might’ve been my introduction to wordplay. It’s a love affair that’s lasted my whole life. A solid bon mot makes me feel warm and fuzzy, like a homemade cozy for my heart made out of yarn spun from the LOLs of clever angels.

  Incidentally, if I ever become a drag queen, my name would be Man of Green Gables.

  The Top Seven Canadianity Drag Names

  Peter Womansbridge

  Mann Arden

  David Suzuk-she

  Wayne Gretzkshe

  Lloyd Robertsdaughter

  Shania . . . mreallyaman

  Tammy Hunter

  As far as the Confederation Bridge went, the only downside was for nosy people like me who wanted to know, the second someone returned from away, “Whodja see on the boat?” “The boat,” of course, referred to the ferries at each end of the island, one to Nova Scotia and one to New Brunswick. Lifelines to the rest of the world.

  “Whodja see on the boat?” was a standard Island greeting to someone who’d just come back from a vacation on the mainland. Not “How was Boston?” or “Is your mom still in the hospital in Halifax?” Whodjaseeontheboat?

  “Well, I seen Socks MacDonald. You know Larry and them. He’s Larry’s wife Treena’s cousin’s step-uncle. They live out where the Esso used to be. They were over to Cape Breton for a cribbage tournament.”

  If you want to fit in on PEI and not seem like an “off-Islander” (
someone from away, as opposed to someone from the Island who has gone bad), the appropriate response to this information is:

  Yeah (while exhaling).

  Yeeeeah (while inhaling).

  Yeah (exhaling again).

  So Maritimes, the need to establish a link. Maybe the bridge is just a metaphor for our desire to connect. Or mine, anyway. I’d be lying if I said no one had ever called me the Town Crier as a nickname.

  Another side note: my sister Marj knows a guy whose nickname is “Come, Come, Whoa” because he works parking cars on the ferry. Lots of people have nicknames on PEI that are usually as a result of one incident decades ago. Just ask her other friend Shitbox, who fell into a kitty litter box when he was two or three, some fifty years ago.

  Perhaps my favourite PEI vernacular applies when two people are dating, they’re going out, then say they break up and get back together. On PEI you would say, “I heard yaz are going back out!”

  Going back out. Extra points for the plural of “you” being “yaz.”

  We were a Brady Bunch family. My dad had three kids from his first marriage, and my mother had one. I was the caulking that held it all together for a relatively brief time. The proud product of their convenient, if a little ill-conceived, union.

  My mother is the daughter of a druggist from New Glasgow, Nova Scotia. He died before I was born, but mostly what I heard about him was how much he adored his wife, so I guess I get that from him.