Friday, October 14, 2011

Roman Turek Profile In Courage Award

It's Friday, and that means just one thing: Hulk Hogan! We coming for you!

Huh? What? Oh right, right, You guys are right; It is also that time of the week when we present the much coveted and sought after Roman Turek Profile In Courage Award (the RTPIC)!

Speculation abounds as to who will win this seasons debut edition, because the nominees are all so deserving.

Will it be the courageous and valiant children, fighting the man! down at the #GiveMeStuffForFreeBecauseIamASpecialAndUniqueSnowflake movement in New York?

Will it be the given to the entrepreneurial stylings of some of the most American of the non-Americans? (By the way, stuff like this why we may be closet amnesty supporters: You want problem solvers like these gentlemen in your country, where you can turn their talents to more beneficial endeavors.)

Or will it be the Fun Nazi's out in Massachusetts? It's bad enough they are suddenly acting Shocked! Shocked! to discover that athletes may in fact drink beer during games (is this not an absurd story, hockey players of all levels?), but now they are even going after little innocent kids for their racist and bigoted practice of...celebrating Halloween, Columbus Day, and Thanksgiving. First the Fun Nazi's came for smoking, and now they are after candy. What's next on the Fun Nazi's agenda? Blow jobs?

(Speaking of BJ's, we once dated a chick of Jamaican heritage...that anti-Columbus shit is real, yo, and if you want to get some of that Jamaican jerk (if you follow our drift) you are probably smart to bad mouth the fool, too.)

The winner of this weeks Roman Turek Profile In Courage Award is: Miikka 'I'll Chain Smoke If I Want To' Kiprusoff!

He's a bad mother... (Shut your mouth)

Miikka Kiprusoff is The! Greatest! Flames! Goalie! Of! All! Time! (To have never won a Stanley Cup, but let's be real: he did, Bettman screwed us, and Blahfuck!)

Howard Dean Scream!

Deep in the vast silence of the void, a dying star clutches tight in its orbit a doomed planet. Krypton, having grown tall and arrogant because of pride, finds itself in front the peculiar judge that presided over the cases of Sodom and Gomorrah. The verdict is in little doubt.

Krypton, however, has it's Lot; Jor-El, who holds in his possession his peoples only hope of cultural continuation. Jol-El, a wealthy and smart man, has built a spaceship to carry the messenger of the hopes and dreams of his people. That messenger is Jol-El's very own infant son, Mii-kka.

With but scant moments left before the hour of judgement, Jol-El launches the spaceship into the ether, knowing full well this desperate gamble laughs in the very face of chance, and turns to watch his world burn.

* * * 

In the cold, crisp, quiet nights out in the fjords of Finland, the fiery descent of a star has the effect of attracting a crowd. That isn't odd; such an event would attract a crowd regardless of location. But in Finland, crowds have the curious trait of being full of vikings.

The viking who claimed the fallen rock from heaven was therefore necessarily a man of incredible physical and mental strength. And after Erik the Red had claimed the strange shiny and metallic rock, he gained immense political strength, as well. The rock Erik claimed seemed to contain a child; and while it would not open, and could not be opened (despite Erik's best efforts), it was as sure a sign of Odin's favour as there could be.

Favour of the gods will do things to a mans head. Erik amassed a grand fleet, and spitting in the face of death and spitting in Hels face herself, he set out over the Atlantic to conquer the horizon. After a long and ardours journey, he arrived in North America, named the region Vinland, and set out to conquer the peoples he found there. 

Aiding Erik in this process was the star child. The rock had opened during the voyage, and bequeathed the boy to him. Erik taught Mii-Kka, now christened Kiprusoff, in the ways of the Viking, and he learned quickly.

In North America, Miikka Kiprusoff would fall in love with a beautiful Iroquois woman, and turn on his former benefactors. After driving the Erik the Red and his vikings from the shores of his new home, he wandered the new land, drinking in it's wonders. He would eventually settle in Michigan.  

* * *

Miikka Kiprusoff was just like any other Detroit cop. He was trying to do a little good, and get home safely to his wife. But the prospects for doing just that had recently gotten a lot worst than they had been in the past. OCP, the company that recently entered into a contract with the Metro Police force for which Murphy, err, Miikka worked, was a joke. It didn't seem to understand or appreciate the need to protect their officers.

As evidence of this, Miikka just had to observe his current situation. He was out on a patrol in the toughest neighbourhood of Old Detroit, and all he had at his side was a 9mm semi-automatic and a rookie partner, Anne Lewis.

Wonders upon wonders, the two cops were surrounded by thugs while on patrol. A criminal element that had grown large and strong in the shadows of civic indifference, stretched and tested it's muscle. Separating the two cops, the thugs would isolate Miikka, and horribly torture him with shotgun blasts to the limbs and lower torso. Miikka thought he was finished when they shot him in the head.

Which would explain why he was so confused when he woke up. The company that had got him killed had brought him back. OCP remade Miikka, whose alien physiology had proven resilient enough to survive the ambush long enough for help to be applied. Miikka would engage on a crusade of conscience against the people who had turned Old Detroit into the hovel it had become. And eventually, Miikka would be forced to deal with the bad apples inside OCP itself.

Such actions made life in Detroit uncomfortable. Miikka was constantly having to deal with the criminal element, and he got very tired. With the passion extinguished, Miikka felt he had to move on. He resigned from the force, and moved to California to find his beach.

* * *
Sitting on the dock of the bay, watching the tide roll away, wasting time, Miikka Kiprusoff sat and reflected. He had some adventure while out in California, for instance, he had avenged his friend Mikey's murder by stopping Victor Maitland's smuggling operation, so his time hadn't been spent completely on being idle. But still, he felt he was missing something from his life.

As he often did when he wanted to relax, Miikka went for a swim. While swimming the calming Pacific waters, and pondering the questions of life, he was swallowed by shark.

A normal man may have perished, but Miikka was a cybernetic alien, so he overcame. He found himself in the stomach of a great white. He had nothing to do, so he stretched. And he became very flexible. His cybernetically enhanced hand-eye coordination was further improved by the necessity of having to pluck morsels of food blackness of the stomach. The constant movement of the shark improved his balance considerably.

One day the blackness was pierced by a shaft of light. That shaft of light had been preceded by a large and sharp spear. Miikka would look through the whole created by the spear, and gazed upon the crazed visage of his saviour: Darryl Sutter, who just happened to be out hunting great white whales at the time.

* * *
And, uhh, then this shit happened: Tits! And Tits! happened because of the 2004 playoff run. Which happened because of Miikka Kiprusoff doing magic tricks like this:

Totally fucking G.

What's more, here is a line from the Herald story about his 263 motherfucking wins:

"It's huge for me," said Kiprusoff, who turns 35 on Oct. 26. "I know Mike pretty well.
"He was the starting goalie in San Jose when I first came over to North America. He's a good guy."

And everybody who has a 'Mike Vernon was in a bar' story smiles. Good on Kip for continuing in that proud tradition.
...

Sometimes, we wonder about the fans. There is nothing wrong with being an 04 fan, but if you are one, you don't know how spoiled you are that Kipper is the goalie. Because some of us had to live through some crap, like Kidd. God, Kidd fucking sucked.

For saving the franchise, Miikka Kiprusoff wins this weeks Roman Turek Profile In Courage Award.

Furthermore, I think the Goal Song should be fired.

5 comments:

  1. Step away from the acid

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  2. Superman, Viking, Robocop, and Jonah...You missed the fact that Kipper was sent from the future to kill Sarah Connor.

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  3. goalies are a different breed...you almost expect them to travel on the Short Bus to the games - but hey whatever works for them.

    DB - check out this clip from Argentina's version of "Dancing with the D-list Stars"...

    NFSW & keep in mind the girl's parents were in the audience - WOW:

    http://gawker.com/5846473/woman-gets-completely-naked-on-argentinas-dancing-with-the-stars


    ~fm

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  4. http://www.hardcoreupload.com/images/740aa11.gif

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  5. @FM

    Holy shit! That's good stuff. The host deserves an RTPIC.

    @DukeofSpades

    Schools awesome.

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