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>I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. It was 1992, and the situation in Yugoslavia was rapidly deteriorating, with tensions escalating into a brutal civil war... I also took an interest in global affairs and humanitarian issues. So, I decided to broach the subject with Hogan, hoping to get his perspective on the grave situation at hand.
>I cleared my throat, and Hogan, busy piling more buttered buns onto his plate, barely glanced my way. His trademark blonde mustache twitched as he let out a booming laugh, his blue eyes twinkling with self-assurance.
>"Hey there, brother, what's on your mind?"
>I took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. "I was just wondering, Hogan," I began tentatively, "if you had any thoughts on the situation in Yugoslavia that's unfolding."
>Hogan paused for a moment, a buttered bun halfway to his mouth, and looked at me with a bemused grin. He seemed unfazed by the gravity of the situation, as if the world outside the wrestling ring was a distant concern.
>"As long as they got some Hulkamaniacs, they'll be okay, brother," he said with a chuckle, as if he was talking about a wrestling match rather than a war.
>I was taken aback by his response. It was clear that Hogan didn't grasp the magnitude of the crisis or the complexities of the geopolitical situation in the Balkans. But then again, Hogan was never one for deep thoughts or nuanced analysis. He was all about the showmanship, the spectacle, and the larger-than-life persona that captivated millions of wrestling fans around the world.
Why are Canadians like this?
