Friday, January 4

ON PAPER: Not Worth The Paper It’s Written On

I used to have a job at a store where I worked directly with the owner. Besides the fact that she was the most flatulent woman I had ever met, she also exhibited somewhat schizophrenic tendencies. So much so that from day to day, shift to shift, I never knew which version of her I was going to get. That day. That minute. That 48 seconds.

You see what I did there?

I will admit that it was fun watching the game Thursday night along with Gill, Kaberle and Wozniewski wasn’t it? And although I usually delight in the looks of childish innocence on the faces of people watching hockey, I wasn’t so delighted to see that look on the faces of those three as they too watched Malkin and Crosby dance, delight, bob, weave, humiliate, deque, split and embarrass them. Saying that the three threw their goalie to the wolves is an insult to wolves…nay to the whole lupus family.
It’s like…if you aren’t going to wear underwear…you better make sure your fly is done up, you know? I’m not even sure what that means.
( I’m just glad Gary Roberts wasn’t on the ice to witness it.)

And to say that the Leafs had such a great first period only makes it worse. I mean….if we cant beat Ty Conklin…how in the name of sweet Jesus are we gonna beat Brodeur? Glass is half full guy Greener will tell you that the Leafs hit four posts in the game. I would counter that maybe he should mind his own business and say that nobody should have to watch their team from between splayed fingers, terrified of what was going to happen next. And that with no resolve on the injury front we’re talking less happy endings then Toskala’s nutsack at this point.
That nobody should have to watch their junior team’s glorified back-up back up the back- up until the back-up’s confidence is back up.

And Saturday? Saturday has all the makings of a tragedy….the possibility of which also makes it comedic, cos really, Saturday, who do you go with? When 50% of the criteria is a hot hand?

Message To Bill Butler: Go Fuck Yourself... smarmy, hypocritical, greedy prick. I'm too angry to write anything that would grant some meaningful perspective to the situation, but thankfully John MacKinnon has summed it up nicely.