So... how about those glass ads?

On the one hand, I'm sure I'll get used to them, and until Sam Bernstein (and I don't doubt this day is coming) pays for the rights to stick his face up behind the goalies during a game, I guess I can deal. Better than on the uniforms.

On the other, ALSDJFLASDJFAKSDF I CAN'T FOCUS ON WHAT'S GOING ON AROUND THE NET, SPARTAN FOODS, AND IT'S NOT DOING MUCH TO ENDEAR ME TO YOUR BRAND NAME.

Frankly, I'm sure if the Red Wings were winning more than half their games right now, I'd have the energy to send myself into a sufficiently frothy rage at today's over-bombardment of advertising and how I hate the way it's snaked itself into the fabric of modern professional sporting events, but the frustration of another shootout loss has sapped me of the necessary energy. Be glad. It would have been like five pages long.

There's not much I can really say about that game at the moment. A heck of a game for a lot of players. I can appreciate Nabokov's epic performance, even if I wish it'd been a little less so. And the Red Wings attempted, for the most part, to play at least fifteen minutes of hockey in every period. Up until the shootout, it was a fun game to watch. And we got a point!

But, I don't know, the Wings sort of need a win right now. And I have a bad feeling that when I wake up in the morning, Lebda, Meech, Maltby, Ericsson, Miller, Eaves, Osgood, Zetterberg, Rafalski, and Lidstrom will have been traded to Atlanta for two third round picks.

Oh dear sweet Hockey Gods, have mercy on my soul for this sin I have committed - I forgot how awesome Franzen was while he was gone.