Thursday, February 19


Word came from no less than 4 separate Sens fans yesterday morning. We're talkin' people who woke up and thought that one of the first things they had to do was go on-line, email me and cyber-gloat. It's astounding really but as I have said before, if there's one thing you can count on with sens fans, it's douchebaggery.

You people (who wrote me, you know who you are) who figure leapfrogging the Leafs for 11th in the East is something to gloat about intrigue me. I suppose though, coming from Ottawa aka the World's Shittiest City, you gotta take what you can get. We all know that fat legs aren't something to brag about so it's beaver tails, Voice of Fire and now being only slightly less shitty statistically that the Leafs.

Remember when you were in the Stanley Cup final not that long ago?

You know me well enough to know how I feel about Ottawa but just in case my long absence has made you forget let me remind; I hate the Ottawa Senators like poison. Like poison, you hear me? Skull and crossbones on the label poison. The whole grabbing at your own neck, saying 'gak!, how could you?' with your last breathe poison. (And when I say Ottawa Senators, I include Ottawa, the valley and a handful of South West Quebec too; the people and their team. I’m talking the old, the young, the sick, the retarded, the good, the bad, the ugly. Babies, twins, immigrants, pets, lesbians, my friends, my relatives…it doesn’t matter…you and it are all the same diarrhea bouillabaisse to me.

It and you are all dreadful, so terribly terribly dreadful that if this was 16th century Turkey, I would hunt you all down like Albanians. You and it are so horrible, so scabby, pimply-assed ugly and terrible that you feel the need to gloat about being 13 points out of the last playoff spot. If it didn't border on a police matter I might even say that the best way to describe my feelings would be to quote Bruce Cockburn and say that if I had a rocket-launcher some sonofabitch would die.

Consider then, how rare the words ‘Go Sens Go’ are for me to say. I can tell you this for sure, I have said it less times than say, 'hey, hand me that Ronnie Milsap cassette', and certainly less times than, “Wow, that’s a beautiful cock” as I have barely said that before. (Remember I do know Greener) Even writing the words, ‘Go Sens Go,’ burn my fingertips a little. But bare with me. I hate Cory Clouston like he was some sort of fissure on my anus know that - but his arrival and the sudden sense of hope these kleenex breakfast's suddenly have for each other makes my heart sing. You know why? Cos hope can really fuck with you.
And my hope is that their hope makes them believe. Cos belief is Bonnie to Hope's Clyde, and the two them can make you stupid. They can make you think that you can take a run at 8th and that you are a Cinderella team for more than Daniel Alfredson and his admiration of petticoats and glass pumps.
Hope and belief will make them drop down the draft, or, I am salivating as I write this, even trade it away for even more of their future for say Niklas Bakstrom.
Hope and belief are what will make them hold onto quasi-gunt Jason Spezza instead trading him. Cos at a time when Mathieu Schneider goes for a 2nd and a 3rd (I don't care how conditional) - everybody's stakes go up. (Anybody hear a 1st for Kubina?)) Jason Spezza, no matter how shitty his D is or how much he will go against the cap next year would be a huge trade. And the sens could potentially take a giant step toward a re-build with it. But hope can make you think otherwise.

And the fans? When they have hope and they have belief, they add in prayer and prayer riding shotgun is whats going to make those ass-munching half-humans get exactly what they deserve. And I want every last one of them to feel it. The players, the coach, the city, the area code. I want it to sting. I want it to sting real bad.

ps. Anyone else notice that the GM for the Sens has a wicked bad speech impediment?

pss. Note to Mike 'Crazy Eye' Fisher...when your girlfriend hides in terror of being spotted associated with you, perhaps its time to move on.