Monday, November 17, 2008
This is a new feature here on FHF, where we combine a commentary about the previous night’s game along with a review of a movie we have recently seen. Fresh on today’s menu: The Habs’ win over the St-Louis Blues and the new 007 flick, Quantum of Solace.
The Game: Soulless
How unbelievably kick-a-frying-pan-into-my-forehead boring. I’ve been more captivated by dust particles reflecting off light bulbs on my night table.
It starts with Andy McDonalds breaking his leg. I’m loving it. That takes care of the Blues’ number one centre.
Now if we could just find a way to infect Keith Tckachuk with tckolitis, or give him tckataract, or have him come down with tcklamydia.
Coach Carbs decided to energize his dormant lineup and threw out a first line comprised of Koivu, Tanguay and Kovalev, probably to jumpstart Kovy who’s been feeling the effects of that second hand smoke blown by Tomas Plekanecamsonov this season.
Laraque and Lapierre were both Labenched. Too bad. Until Laraque decides to quit the Nivea Defence face washing every opponent that freaking STEAMROLLS OVER EVERY ONE OF OUR PLAYERS WITH A CIMENT TRUCK, he can sit lefack down. Hey, Lapin Lapierre, the Man upstairs decided to grow two healthy, perfectly functional legs on each side of your genitals. HOW ABOUT USING THEM TO PLAY HOCKEY!!!?
La shit, la merde. Futck.
Habs play 3 full periods of some of the most incohesive, the autistic passes the puck to the dyslexic, brand of hockey seen on RDS since, hum, … saturday night.
Even the “highlight goal” scored by Big Tits felt like a sham. Did Blues goalie
Manny Legace look like an octopus masturbating or what? AK’s power skate through the time zones of the earth was a sight to behold; but the finish was served on the finest sterling silver one can find.
The team came back from 1-0 and 2-1 deficits, and looked plenty bad doing it. Kovy sealed the deal in a shootout, none for the ages, with a signature move that often culminates in a shot gone high or a post hit hard. This time, the move was calibrated to perfection.
Carey Price looked alright, with the Blues controlling play for the better part of the game. He looked alright, in the bland way, not the cool, Bob Marley sounding way.
Nevertheless, and let this stand as the true Manny Legace of the night: it was a tckrappy game and it was soulless.
I repeat: the game had no soul.
The movie: Quantum of Solace
What the Aston Martin fuck were they thinking when they made this complete waste of my time?!
Daniel Craig may have had 6 lines in the whole movie, tops. Action scenes that so tested my ADD, leaving me asking, how did this start?, what’s happening now? What’s with the title?
I felt immediate comfort in turning to Mrs. HF4 who asks me with this blunt look on her face “are you totally lost too?”. Yup, babe. Lost, bored, should have stayed home and vacuumed the place.
If Casino Royal was to Bond fans what the first 10 games of the season were to Habs’ fans, then this aneurysm of a movie was as painful as the team’s slide of late. As soon as the movie ended, I turned to everyone I was with and just said, “Quantum of so-so”.
No beginning, get over your girlfriend drowning in the elevator it happens to all of us, thank the good Lord for Judy Dench, a plot as loose as the connections in Darcy Tucker’s brain shitty brand of suck movie. No blood crying, metallic asthma inhaler puffing villains to drool over. A Bond girl on a revenge mission that was so damn obvious that they just should have called her Cliché, or Die Right Now in this Next Scene Bond girl.
This movie, it too, had no soul, making it soulless.