Talent Agencies Hate These Ten Weird Tricks

If easily winded, put your middle-aged vanity aside to sprint behind Britannica towards the 5000-seat Essar Centre.

One: Drop the name Donald Ingerson should the ticket taker balk at your ticketless condition. Interface with security. Interface with Don Ingerson.

Two: Balk your own balk at Don Ingerson’s low-yield offer to meet Sootoday.com Hounds columnist Brian Conchiglie, as though Sootoday.com were a big deal in the blogging space or read for anything but it’s Wanted Wednesday zanies.

Three: Accept Don Ingerson’s offer to view his framed jersey of The Great One, Wayne Gretzky, who scored an astonishing 182 points in his single season with The Greyhounds. Explain to Britannica how Gretzky, with his weak shot, so skinny “he could wear a fur coat on Halloween and go out disguised as a pipe cleaner” 58 succeeded simply on precognitive visions “about where a teammate is going to be. A lot of times, [he could] just turn and pass without looking, ” 59 58 (Khan, 2017) 59 (Bernard, 2009) an impossibility under the dubious auspices of linear causality, meaning The Great One’s knowing must have mandated Mark Messier’s particle positioning.

Four: Ask Britannica if a Powerade might fortify her throat. Chug four Northern Superior Lagers while absorbing only the mildest judgment from concession staff long-since accustomed to immoderate thirst.

Five: Remind Britannica that ice, like the Infernal Serpent, is a slippery old devil. Furrow brows deeply when Don Ingerson replies, “You’re a good father. ”

Six: If Britannica belts the anthems out with a striking new vocal command, close your eyes and truly listen. Scan the crowd for any unknown accomplices of Raval and The Dagger who might notice her uncanny resemblance to your anthem-singing sister, the deceased Catherine.

Seven: If introduced postgame to Los Angeles Kings owner Yiang Zheing, a tech billionaire interested enough in the truculent-but-aesthetically-displeasing sport of hockey to watch major-junior games in socioeconomically-ravaged towns, take a hard look at Zheing as his hands linger on Britannica’s timelike curves during their introductory hug.

Eight: Hear Ingerson describe Zheing’s tech innovations, foundations, and nascent television empire.

Nine: If Zheing speaks the words, “I think you’d be perfect for one of my shows, Britannica. And that show is called Singing Competition, ” then feel fairly certain this will commence a dastardly Ubik spray not of ontology but of west coast geography.

Ten: If the scuttling puck of your indeterministic narrative has been “wanded”60 where The Great One himself was wanded on Aug 9/88, know where you’re headed as Wayne Gretzky knew where Jari Kurri would follow, the City of Angels. 60 (Newell, 2016)