Look Ma, No Suspensions! Not-the-Flyers 4, Sens 0

Plan the parade: Hey, remember when we all thought Higgins was gonna be a 40 goal, 40 assist, Cup-hoisting Captain for life? Oh, it's back on, baby! Hey, remember when TFS was TFS, and shutouts, Vezinas and Cups were going to rain like ... um, rain? Plan the parade! Remember when we feared the Sens juggernaut and the inevitable SLC smackdown? Nah, me neither. Remember when Gui! was the next John Leclair - except we weren't going to trade him just before he exploded as a first-line force of nature? Well, he snapped home a nice goal last night, so that's something. Remember when the Habs were a clean, hardworking skill team, not the bunch of cheap-shotting quitters who showed up in Toronto on Saturday? Let's hope Carbo made a tape of that speech.

The Sky is Falling: Forget Marian Gaborik or Ilya Kovalchuk or Mats Sundin and get a large, angry, top-four defenceman who will punch someone in the fucking mouth if they get to close to TFS, please. Saturday was an abomination, with Leafs running rampant through the crease and dressing room poison Grabs throwing a butt-end with no consequences. Last night wasn't as pitiful, but the Sens sure had a lot of time to shove their way into the blue paint. It's got to stop.

Know what else needs to stop? Big Tit's penchant for tripping/slewfooting guys on races for the puck. The one on Saturday against Leafs saviour Luke Schenn was bad enough, and he pulled the same thing last night. He's gonna kill someone. It's a dirty play and someone needs to tell him to knock it the fuck off and start scoring goals.

Somewhere, Jacques Parizeau weeps: The Flying Frenchmen sent out this power play unit: Two Belarussians, a Russian, and two Czechs. Later, on a four on three, it was a Finn, a Russian, a Czech and a Belarussian. Damn moneyed ethnics are ruining everything!

Chez Paree bound: Post a shutout? Get right in. Throw up a "who needs Gaborik?" first career hat-trick? Get right in. Put all the power of your 5 foot 2, 93 pound body into your fists to avenge a head shot on your teammate? Get right in. Spend an entire penalty kill buzzing the opposing net? Get right in. Play a full sixty minutes like you mean business? Get right in.

You know, I hate to say this sort of thing, but: Alex Auld played fantastic and deserved a better fate.

Of course, saying things like this might explain why he didn't have a better night: I heard the names Spezza, Heatley, Alfie, Fisher, and Neil last night. I may have heard "Winchester" once, and Foligno was mentioned when he fell down on the third goal. That's seven forwards. Most teams dress 12. It's not a good sign when almost half of your attackers are invisible. I think Spezza and Fisher each played 45 minutes last night.

Meanwhile, on the Ocho (er, TSN2): The Pens and Wings took Rememberance Day to a whole new level by remembering what the NHL was like in 1988-89. 7-6 in overtime after the Wings blew a 5-2 lead in the third. Yzerman to Gallant looked like the winner until Lemieux set up Robbie Brown for the tying goal, then won it in overtime himself. Yowza.

Next Evil, Evil, Blackhearted,(did I mention Evil?) we-need-to-crush-them foe?

Bruins. Thursday. Urge to kill ... rising! Milan Lucic is ON MY LIST.