So from what we heard, that game tonight was pretty epic. Unfortunately, as we weren't around to see it, we don't really feel qualified to offer up our opinions, so here's something actually relevant to what we were doing that might entertain you.
In honor of the Great Big Sea concert we just attended, here's the consummate sleeping-your-way-around-the-league song, Helmethead:
Great Big Sea - Helmethead
I'd like to be able to give this one another five paragraph analyzation, but unfortunately (fortunately?) it's sung completely in tune, and lacks both horrific lyrics and a synth solo breakdown.
Enjoy.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
My throat still hurts from yelling
I'd like to bitch and moan about sloppy, inconsistent play right now, but I have a feeling that most of my complaints are just me taking out my unrelated frustrations (it's Monday morning right now, and I'm sacrificing my lunch hour (and risking the very real possibility that someone will walk by and yell at me for not working because they don't know I'm on lunch) to go through and edit this post for spelling errors and comma mistakes (of which there will still probably be three)) on whatever is most readily available, and since I don't have any way of watching the Blackhawks right now (SOMETIMES I TAKE OUT MY IRRATIONAL ANGER BY YELLING AT THAT TEAM FOR NO REASON, ALRIGHT?), it's all getting dumped on bad turnovers and powerplays where the Red Wings have no shots on goal.
Oh my god, last night the Red Wings had a powerplay where there were no shots on goal.
Why?
No, no I'm dwelling on the negative again. At the end of the story, however dismally you want to spin it, the Red Wings won.
And I have to tell you - if they're going to use less-than-stellar play to set up dramatic turnarounds as exciting as last night was, fine. They have my blessing. I can watch Zetterberg and Lidstrom score ridiculous, game-changing goals like that every hour of every day for the rest of my life. More please.
Even though every member of the team left the ice limping, somehow no one got substantially injured. So you can all loosen the knot in your stomach and prepare it for copious amounts of turkey.
Oh my god, last night the Red Wings had a powerplay where there were no shots on goal.
Why?
No, no I'm dwelling on the negative again. At the end of the story, however dismally you want to spin it, the Red Wings won.
And I have to tell you - if they're going to use less-than-stellar play to set up dramatic turnarounds as exciting as last night was, fine. They have my blessing. I can watch Zetterberg and Lidstrom score ridiculous, game-changing goals like that every hour of every day for the rest of my life. More please.
Even though every member of the team left the ice limping, somehow no one got substantially injured. So you can all loosen the knot in your stomach and prepare it for copious amounts of turkey.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
WTF Wednesday
I wanted to bring this to all of you on Sunday, when I heard about it, but Lindsay reminded me that it would be just as WTF on Wednesday. And it is.
By now a few of you have probably caught wind of Toews and Kane's awful, amazing, awful cell phone commercial, maybe via PuckDaddy's play-by-play. If not - here's the gist:
Jonathan Toews is sitting in an outdoor cafe, spies an attractive lady at the next table, then proceeds to take a picture of her hand (don't ask me - I don't keep track of the Blackhawks' kinky fetishes) with his cell phone, and sends it off to his bff Patrick, who I guess has the magical ability to tell how attractive a woman looks just by getting a cameraphone picture of her fingers. He gives Toews the green light to pursue, and cautions him against using the phone's pick-up line app, presumably because Kane wants to keep all the really bad pick-up lines for himself (tell me he doesn't seem the type). The rest of the commercial is one big steaming pile of increasingly mounting awkwardness, that...
I don't know, maybe I'm the only one. Tell me, ladies, if a stranger sidled up to you at a restaurant and had barely said hello before he whipped out his cell phone, laughed, said "I've got one funny friend", and showed you a picture of a different guy sandwiched between two other girls, would you or would you not expect to presently be invited to some sort of orgy? If Jonathan Toews did that to me, I would be running away, quickly, maybe in search of an officer of the law.
Thankfully, someone besides myself saved the video before it was mysteriously taken off Youtube, so you can watch it here. (If it gets removed again, let us know. We've got your back on this one. The world needs to see this.)
Moral of the story: Ladies (or possibly men), if you ever see someone across the room take a picture of your left hand, run. Run quickly.
By now a few of you have probably caught wind of Toews and Kane's awful, amazing, awful cell phone commercial, maybe via PuckDaddy's play-by-play. If not - here's the gist:
Jonathan Toews is sitting in an outdoor cafe, spies an attractive lady at the next table, then proceeds to take a picture of her hand (don't ask me - I don't keep track of the Blackhawks' kinky fetishes) with his cell phone, and sends it off to his bff Patrick, who I guess has the magical ability to tell how attractive a woman looks just by getting a cameraphone picture of her fingers. He gives Toews the green light to pursue, and cautions him against using the phone's pick-up line app, presumably because Kane wants to keep all the really bad pick-up lines for himself (tell me he doesn't seem the type). The rest of the commercial is one big steaming pile of increasingly mounting awkwardness, that...
I don't know, maybe I'm the only one. Tell me, ladies, if a stranger sidled up to you at a restaurant and had barely said hello before he whipped out his cell phone, laughed, said "I've got one funny friend", and showed you a picture of a different guy sandwiched between two other girls, would you or would you not expect to presently be invited to some sort of orgy? If Jonathan Toews did that to me, I would be running away, quickly, maybe in search of an officer of the law.
Thankfully, someone besides myself saved the video before it was mysteriously taken off Youtube, so you can watch it here. (If it gets removed again, let us know. We've got your back on this one. The world needs to see this.)
Moral of the story: Ladies (or possibly men), if you ever see someone across the room take a picture of your left hand, run. Run quickly.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Don't mess with Detroit
If I were asked to list my three most hated things this week, I would say:
1) Spiders
2) Getting asked if I know Eminem when people find out where I live
3) People who live outside the Metro area and insult the city of Detroit.
Three things about life I truly love might be:
1) The corner of 8 Mile and Shadyside
2) Tim Hortons Iced Capps (made with chocolate milk, obviously)
3) When large groups of people band together for a common cause. Especially when it entails some fool gettin' told.
It seems like this happens a couple times every year. A journalist sits down at his laptop, considers the vast, rich landscape of possibilities open to him through which to steer his readers, weighs them against his subject matter, his abilities, and his deadline, and goes the lazy man's route - straight through the heart of every man, woman, and child who feels insulted when Detroit's insulted too. And then those men, women, and children who have internet access assemble to give him the what for.
You might want to read the first couple paragraphs of this sparklingly brilliant work of journalism before continuing. Ahem.
"Muggy with a chance of murder"? How dare he mock southeast Michigan's relentless summer humidity. Until you've lived here, you just don't understand the indignity of watching your carefully flat-ironed coif spring up a frizz-halo three inches in every direction from your head. He's clearly balding. And heartless.
In all honesty though, I write about this because it angers me. Maybe not this specific article per se - Detroit's been jabbed so many times that Tychkowski's jab didn't even penetrate the scar tissue - but the stereotypes his comments stemmed from rouse my ire. Maybe it's because I spend eight months out of the year a school telling people that 8 Mile really isn't that interesting, and is mostly gas stations, used car lots, and strip clubs. Maybe it's because I've personally felt the effects of the auto industry crumbling, watched friends and family members search endlessly for jobs to no avail, and watched as home foreclosures sprung up around my neighborhood like dandelions. True, the city has its problems, we can't ignore that - but to exploit them for a cheap laugh and a catchy anecdote is to cheapen the experiences of everyone who lives in the Detroit-metro area.
Which, ultimately, is what this article amounted to. Tychkowski was trying to draw on a parallel between the crappyness of his team's play and the crappyness of the city of Detroit. It was just a little flourish of rhetoric wordplay. Removed from its geographical context, the turn of phrase is almost clever. He's probably a bit confused why his article has garnered over a hundred comments of angry backlash. I'm not confused. It's because we get judged on vacation when we tell people we're from the Detroit area. Because we get immediately defensive when we see the name of the city at the start of a news article not written by a local publication. And it's because EdmontonSun.com has a comments feature, whereas network sitcoms, The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, and the Times Magazine sitting in your doctor's waiting room - all of which have been guilty of laying down the hate on Detroit - do not.
Mickey Redmond was even peeved about this:
Anyway, Tychkowski, you pulled the "lol Detroit sucks" card, and now you're taking the heat for it. I don't know you - you might be a nice guy who feels like a real ass right now (some of those comments had considerably stronger wording than Mickey's), but maybe next time you'll choose your words more carefully. At any rate, you did manage to write one great, succinct, infinitely truthful Detroit-related line the other night - "The Wings are good."
Yes. Yes they are.
1) Spiders
2) Getting asked if I know Eminem when people find out where I live
3) People who live outside the Metro area and insult the city of Detroit.
Three things about life I truly love might be:
1) The corner of 8 Mile and Shadyside
2) Tim Hortons Iced Capps (made with chocolate milk, obviously)
3) When large groups of people band together for a common cause. Especially when it entails some fool gettin' told.
It seems like this happens a couple times every year. A journalist sits down at his laptop, considers the vast, rich landscape of possibilities open to him through which to steer his readers, weighs them against his subject matter, his abilities, and his deadline, and goes the lazy man's route - straight through the heart of every man, woman, and child who feels insulted when Detroit's insulted too. And then those men, women, and children who have internet access assemble to give him the what for.
You might want to read the first couple paragraphs of this sparklingly brilliant work of journalism before continuing. Ahem.
"Muggy with a chance of murder"? How dare he mock southeast Michigan's relentless summer humidity. Until you've lived here, you just don't understand the indignity of watching your carefully flat-ironed coif spring up a frizz-halo three inches in every direction from your head. He's clearly balding. And heartless.
In all honesty though, I write about this because it angers me. Maybe not this specific article per se - Detroit's been jabbed so many times that Tychkowski's jab didn't even penetrate the scar tissue - but the stereotypes his comments stemmed from rouse my ire. Maybe it's because I spend eight months out of the year a school telling people that 8 Mile really isn't that interesting, and is mostly gas stations, used car lots, and strip clubs. Maybe it's because I've personally felt the effects of the auto industry crumbling, watched friends and family members search endlessly for jobs to no avail, and watched as home foreclosures sprung up around my neighborhood like dandelions. True, the city has its problems, we can't ignore that - but to exploit them for a cheap laugh and a catchy anecdote is to cheapen the experiences of everyone who lives in the Detroit-metro area.
Which, ultimately, is what this article amounted to. Tychkowski was trying to draw on a parallel between the crappyness of his team's play and the crappyness of the city of Detroit. It was just a little flourish of rhetoric wordplay. Removed from its geographical context, the turn of phrase is almost clever. He's probably a bit confused why his article has garnered over a hundred comments of angry backlash. I'm not confused. It's because we get judged on vacation when we tell people we're from the Detroit area. Because we get immediately defensive when we see the name of the city at the start of a news article not written by a local publication. And it's because EdmontonSun.com has a comments feature, whereas network sitcoms, The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, and the Times Magazine sitting in your doctor's waiting room - all of which have been guilty of laying down the hate on Detroit - do not.
Mickey Redmond was even peeved about this:
"It's completely unnecessary, uncalled for, unrelated to the game of hockey," said Redmond. "If it was an attempt to be humorous, it was a lousy attempt at that. It was not necessary. You're beating up on a city that obviously doesn't need it"
If I used this blog to occasionally disparage against Canada, particularly northern Alberta, I probably wouldn't get publicly told off by the Oilers color guy, which is almost a shame, because our Wikio ratings would go bananas.
Anyway, Tychkowski, you pulled the "lol Detroit sucks" card, and now you're taking the heat for it. I don't know you - you might be a nice guy who feels like a real ass right now (some of those comments had considerably stronger wording than Mickey's), but maybe next time you'll choose your words more carefully. At any rate, you did manage to write one great, succinct, infinitely truthful Detroit-related line the other night - "The Wings are good."
Yes. Yes they are.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Do you know what I love about Henrik Zetterberg?
Everything.
Which is exactly what I loved about the ten seconds following Dan Cleary's goal and the final three seconds of that game.
We haven't posted here in two weeks, and that's unacceptable. When this blog dies, it won't be a slow, languishing death wherein the space between posts gets wider and wider and wider until one day there just aren't anymore. No, if we go, we go with fireworks and explosions and eight page retrospectives and a big drunken party that you'll all be invited to - that's a promise. To keep that promise, I have to sit here tonight and write until I have something resembling a hockey blog assembled.
- The Wings were outplayed for a decent chunk of the game Monday, which was reflected in the score, and the fact that the game went to overtime. This continues a trend. Because it's November, and they're winning most of these games anyway, I feel like I can afford to look the other way for now, and tell myself that everything will work itself out by spring. (I will regret these words eventually.)
- Someone needs to tell Dan Cleary that scoring a goal for his team does not mean that he's in any way obligated to assist the other team in doing the same.
- I'm not sure why Salei decided that jumping on Howard would be in our team's best interests this evening.
- Rafalski made his return in this game. I have no idea how he looked, because my eyes unfocused every time the puck went into our defensive zone.
- Have I mentioned how much I love Henrik Zetterberg?
- Andy Brickley didn't say "tremendous sex" this time, which is always a disappointment.
- The Wings' next game is on Thursday, against the Oilers, again, only this time you don't have to stay up until 2am eastern to catch the end of it.
And because I have nothing more relevant to say, here - have a picture of Wayne Gretzky about to eat his own daughter at a golf tournament. Because the Wings are between games with Phoenix and Edmonton, it's sort of relevant, if you squint, and maybe cross your eyes a little.
Which is exactly what I loved about the ten seconds following Dan Cleary's goal and the final three seconds of that game.
We haven't posted here in two weeks, and that's unacceptable. When this blog dies, it won't be a slow, languishing death wherein the space between posts gets wider and wider and wider until one day there just aren't anymore. No, if we go, we go with fireworks and explosions and eight page retrospectives and a big drunken party that you'll all be invited to - that's a promise. To keep that promise, I have to sit here tonight and write until I have something resembling a hockey blog assembled.
- The Wings were outplayed for a decent chunk of the game Monday, which was reflected in the score, and the fact that the game went to overtime. This continues a trend. Because it's November, and they're winning most of these games anyway, I feel like I can afford to look the other way for now, and tell myself that everything will work itself out by spring. (I will regret these words eventually.)
- Someone needs to tell Dan Cleary that scoring a goal for his team does not mean that he's in any way obligated to assist the other team in doing the same.
- I'm not sure why Salei decided that jumping on Howard would be in our team's best interests this evening.
- Rafalski made his return in this game. I have no idea how he looked, because my eyes unfocused every time the puck went into our defensive zone.
- Have I mentioned how much I love Henrik Zetterberg?
- Andy Brickley didn't say "tremendous sex" this time, which is always a disappointment.
- The Wings' next game is on Thursday, against the Oilers, again, only this time you don't have to stay up until 2am eastern to catch the end of it.
And because I have nothing more relevant to say, here - have a picture of Wayne Gretzky about to eat his own daughter at a golf tournament. Because the Wings are between games with Phoenix and Edmonton, it's sort of relevant, if you squint, and maybe cross your eyes a little.
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