“Why can’t you guys let sleeping dogs lie?”

This is the question that Jesse’s wife, Jo, poses at the beginning of the segment, shortly after Jesse’s narration reveals that we’d be taking a second run at the husky on the Yukon’s Coat of Arms—this time with the goal of kicking the pooch right off its perch.

Of course, we actively solicited Jo’s admonition (after a failed attempt to coach a similar clip from Mark’s father; see outtake “Parent Not Parrot”.) However, we were pretty sure that even if Jo didn’t actually feel that way about what we were planning to do (and let's not fool ourselves; she probably did), she would nevertheless be speaking on behalf of many other Smells Like Yukon listeners.

In response to this rhetorical question, we begin by trying to change the subject, if only a little. Who’s to say that the dog is actually sleeping? All we know is that it hasn’t moved in more than 50 years. Which might, we could argue, suggest that the animal is in some sort of vegetative coma or has even—heaven forbid—expired on the job. (A potential dereliction of duty that we would choose not to dwell upon.) In this case, it would seem that rather than tormenting a defenseless two-dimensional malamute, we would actually be performing a valuable service in the field of public health and sanitation. Now, if there was only a local facility where we could cremate the remains…

For argument’s sake, let’s suppose that the dog really is sleeping. What kind of animal sleeps standing up? Last time we checked, it wasn’t the noble dog. It was the cow. The dog’s behaviour, then, would certainly seem a little shifty and suspicious—and not just because it’s sleeping when it’s supposed to be working (or “representin’”). No, there would be something mildly threatening about this; the kind of thing you might expect, say, from an Al Qaeda sleeper agent. The sooner we root out the dog's laziness or, worse, its dangerously concealed hatred for our freedoms, the better off we’ll all be. And if nothing better comes along, we can always find a cow to take its place.

So that leaves us with the possibility that the dog is actually both alive and awake. This would suggest that Mark and Jesse really need to choose their cliches a little more carefully when writing the scripts for Smells Like Yukon. But more importantly, it would still leave us with a rock solid justification for our efforts to boot the husky off the crest. What kind of dog, we ask, would stand still and silent for over five decades? Some sort of crazy, lazy mime dog, that’s what.

Take a good look at the colouring and pattern on that dog: Kind of black and white, kind of stripey. It all fits.

And, as any reasonable person understands, mimes are fair game.

So, now that we can all agree that we’re totally within our rights to close down the de facto animal shelter on our Coat of Arms, whatever the circumstances may be, we can finally get down to the important work of explaining how we proceeded. Never mind that the weight of public opinion seems to be against our mission—at least judging by the few people we asked, and the many more we can only imagine.

Naturally, the potential unpopularity of our endeavour brought Whitehorse artist and Frame Shop owner Bill Barnie immediately to mind. As we struggled to come up with ideas about what could take the husky’s place on the Coat of Arms, we thought of Bill and his efforts to create a Yukon licence plate in the shape of a raven. So far, he hasn’t had much luck getting his metal bird onto local bumpers, so we wondered if he and his feathered friend might like to try their luck on the Coat of Arms.

Oddly enough, the idea had never crossed his mind.

We, on the other hand, thought his bird might look pretty damn good, so Mark dropped by the Frame Shop one day in August 2007 to pitch the idea to Bill. He didn’t exactly warm up to the concept. That was OK with us, because we didn’t really want his bird up there anyway; we just wanted to get Bill going again. And, indeed, the visit did seem to rekindle Bill’s fire for his licence plate project more than a year after he’d caused his most recent public flap. Shortly after the interview, the Whitehorse Star ran an article about a letter Bill had received from a collector impeaching him to get his plate into production. As of today, Bill’s raven has yet to find a home on the licence plate. But the Coat of Arms—dare we suggest—could still be in play, assuming that Smells Like Yukon’s provocative radio story can get the ball rolling.

The same day that Mark interviewed Bill, we also paid a visit to the Yukon Brewing Company. And let’s face it: this was our goal from the outset. When we were canvassing an astonishingly small number of friends for their thoughts on the husky’s status—and what might replace it—someone suggested “Chilkoot beer bottle.” This was fortunate, insofar as it was the answer we were always looking for—and now we wouldn’t have to go through the potentially painful exercise of trying to coach someone to tell us exactly what we wanted to hear. (We refer you again to the outtake “Parent Not Parrot”.)

At the brewery, we were met by president Bob Baxter, who gave us a tour of the bottling plant, where we got some nice background sound. Bottles clinking. Music to our ears. We can’t remember whether Mark’s question to Bob “Is 10:00 a.m. too early for a beer?” was scripted or spontaneous, but it was sincere in either case. And so, we can only assume, was Bob’s quick reply: “Not in my world.”

After the tour, we all retired to the quieter confines of Bob’s office to explore the possibility of his product taking the dog’s place on our Coat of Arms. There was some discussion about which brand would be best, and whether to go with a bottle or draft in a mug.

Contrary to what’s written in the script, no beer was consumed in the collection of the clips at the Yukon Brewing Company, though we’re not sure we can say the same about any other part of the production process for “Knock It Off.” Nor did Mark make off with any free YBC swag as a kick-back for the free publicity (at least not that Jesse knows about.) The truth is, those are just the kind of artful boasts we like to make in the hopes of casting ourselves as edgier than we actually are.

For the rest of the clips used in this story, we’d like to thank the many friends who we (mostly Mark) accosted at various times and locations during the summer of 2007. It got to the point where people started to run (more than usual) when they saw Mark approaching with a demented, questioning gleam (more than usual) in his eye. Most of them were subjected to a rather long list of questions pertaining to a number of segments for the current season. Our wish to avoid too much recycling of interviewees from one segment to the next explains why many of the people we interviewed for “Knock It Off” weren’t actually featured in the segment. In case anyone cares. Which they don’t. In any event, many of these clips have been strung together in the outtake called “Knock It Off Montage.”

Finally, we should give appropriate credit to Mother Nature for setting the perfect stage for the broadcast of “Knock It Off.” The week before the segment aired for the first time on February 6th, temperatures throughout the Yukon dipped into the minus forties for days on end. In Whitehorse, this resulted in a thick blanket of ice fog that often did not burn off until late afternoon—and sometimes not at all. If Mark had any doubts about the creative choice that he and Jesse finally settled on to replace the husky on the Yukon’s Coat of Arms, one look out the window during this cold snap put them to rest.

Who knows what Jesse thought. He was in Kathmandu. Lucky dog.

(Posted February 06, 2008)