They changed the format on the thang to something I am sure some people are into. It's...less oldsy, I guess. I really don't know how to describe it...it's very sterile, this new look. And I hate hate hate it. Like, the level of hate Matt Stajan feels towards his exercise bike.
Shit, it's really throwing me off. I didn't really have anything to talk about anyways, and now, with this monkey wrench thrown in my gears...forget it.
I hear there is an election today. You may want to check that out... Uh, I got contacts on the weekend, haven't had those in a few years. Those are pretty ok. Probably should man up and go get the eyes cut on, but that would involve having to trust a robot with a the ability to shoot skin burning lasers, and we all know how that turned out for the people of LA.
Hey guys, actually, that reminds me! You know what we can talk about?
There is something, I dunno, petty and small and vicious about dancing in the flickering shadows of a corpse tossed upon the funeral pyre...which is sweet, because I am petty and small and viscous. Which makes this celebration of the demise of the divers something I can really dig my teeth into.
Seriously, I'm a little perplexed as to why PM Harper didn't declare this day a national holiday and give us all the day off so the rest of Canada could riot in celebratory glee.
The fact that Stoll finished that team off in total Rec League Hero fashion...that's just perfect, isn't it?
So good. I'll be watching that all freakin' day.
On the Flames front... I know it's old now, but I am still buzzing over the fact that 'Jay Feaster takes his marching orders from King' has not only gone mainstream, but is now accepted, conventional thinking. Take for instance, this line from a week old Jim Matheson article on Brent Sutter: "But Feaster gets his marching orders from higher-ups. Do they want to tear it down like the Oilers? Doesn’t appear to be that way."