Sweet Tea, Barbecue, and Bodychecks

Archive for December 14th, 2007

It Is Can Be Deja Vooz Tiem Nao Plz?

14 Dec 2007 @ 10:42 PM

There is dark irony that I did some reading on the 2007 Farm Bill (with two amendments that Smithfield and Tyson wanted turfed because it helps small meat producers compete with Big Agribusiness*) while the Hurricanes played catch-up all night against the Calgary Flames, losing despite putting in one mother of an effort.

Anyone who says the Canes mailed it in tonight needs to get the hell off the bus and turn in their fan card right now. Fucking frontrunners. Go cheer for Detroit or something.

I wish I could have gone tonight, I really do. Hells, I park at the Carter-Finley lot and take the Wolfline to work–how hard would it be to get off work, take the bus to C-F, and walk across the road to the RBC?

Nevermind that my car would get towed. We’ll just ignore that for the moment. I COULD HAVE BEEN THERE DAMMIT, BUT I HAVEN’T BEEN PAID BY THE NEW YOB YET AND I AM BROKE.

And so, I find myself again wishing that I could afford to be at the arena every night, just like I wished it in 2002-2003 when the Hurricanes were having difficulties after a game with those damnable Red Wings. I blame Detroit for this–of course, I blame Detroit for everything from the price of gas to the demise of Skylab, so take that as you will.

What to do, what to do? What to say, what to say? The power play is anemic, the penalty kill is meh, and the whole team is just…just…I don’t think that they’re mailing it in…much. But I do think that the frustration is getting to them. Has gotten to them. You people know what I mean. The team is in a steady downward spiral right now, and management is saying “no trades” (though I know damn well that JimR has something up his sleeve, even if the Fairweather-fan Idiot Brigade can’t figure it out).

But I’m not turning my back on the ‘Canes. I can’t do it. I’m too much of a fanatic to do it. I could die tonight, and I’ll be in the visiting team’s locker room before every game cutting skate laces and making sure that Icy Hot magically appeared in everyone’s jockstraps. It would take something really serious to make me turn my back on this team–and the chips being down? That ain’t it, kids. Being on a slide is small potatoes.

Everyone else can punch out, some random moron with no ball-sack can tell me that I’m sanctioning mediocrity by refusing to pull the D-ring–which I know he’d never do to my face, whatever. Fuck ‘em, cos I’ll be on this ride all the way.

‘Canes to the Bloody Bitter End, Baby!

I’m not a friend of Big Ag companies like Tyson, Smithfield, et al. — especially Smithfield.