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NHL Hockey |
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Once more the sound of ice scraped by steel and bone crunched by muscle fills the air. Oh how I love the hockey season. It gives me respite from the dismal parity of the NFL and the soap opera of the NBA. I can't be the only person fed up with the Kobe court case.
With the season under way already I have a little more insight than usual of what's to come and so here's this seasons predictions: Stanley Cup Winners: Detroit Red Wings There, that wasn't too difficult, now was it? I hear the familiar grumbling from the Av's fans who think that just because they have hired a bunch of gun slinging forwards they'll breeze it. Not so. The ugliness of the Av's uniforms will always outweigh the talent that the team has. Not only that but they don't have Patrick Roy in net any more and they ain't getting CuJo from the Wings. It has been pointed out to me by fellow NHL fans, albeit stupid 'Hawks fans (Thanks for the insight, Shane, you Irish lout) that the Canucks are looking mighty mighty. Well fuck them and that partially shaved Sasquach they call Bertuzzi. How much do I hate the Canucks? About 5-1, that's how much. They may be riding high at present but like Brandon Iron's dreams of a threesome with Hilton witches they'll fade and die fairly soon. Here's my informed prediction for the league standings by season end:
I'll go with the Red Wings meeting the Senators in the Stanley Cup. On another note I'd just like to say that I'm single again. Life is strange in that you meet that special someone who is willing to put up with your idiosyncrasies, perversions and deviant demands on their body only to discover that they are really a closet Polka fan. I can put up with a lot of things but Polka ain't one of them. I fucking hate Polka. Deal breaker, that's what Polka is. So I've gone back to spending endless nights sitting alone in my dark apartment, playing XBOX and talking to a cat that’s once feigned indifference is now real indifference. I swear, if that fat bugger ever learns to open a tin he'll be out the door in a second. Don't worry about me, I still have a clique of hot female friends that want to comfort me. It's the accent. Signing off. Hartley Fortesque-Mousewrangler RIP Hershey, angry 'til the end. |
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