Issue #88 — Waylaid Celebrations
“It is not possible to eat me without insisting I sing praises of my devourer?” –Fyodor Dostoevsky
Kinda figured the Canucks might take the night off on this one.
Kinda tempting to do the same. While some might claim much ado about nothing, it is not so much the final tally that is concerning, but the way in which the tally was earned. Too many odd-man rushes. Too many bad penalties. And goal-tending was sloppy and inconsistent. For a team that has garnered a reputation for consistency all year it all may be easily forgiveable.
Maybe.
However, this club has a record of shitting the bed amidst the most comfortable slumber. They shouldn’t take this defeat lightly. Perhaps Coach Vee should make his entire team run bag-skate drills today until Aaron Rome pukes. Just to send a message.
Wake-up fellas. The city is counting on you. The country is waiting for a return of her majestic chalice. Like our grandparents before us, this generation wants her V-Day. Ticker tape and yellow ribbons. And by-golly, who wouldn’t love to impregnate some bewitching damsel in a public setting? Like the steps of the Vancouver Art Gallery.
If the Canucks can manage to play (and win) 16 games in the playoffs all of this is possible.
If they keep playing like a rag-tag group of mouth-breathers this correspondant may be without progeny for at least one more year.
–Joseph F. Delamar