Too busy to write a review today folks, so I've turned it over to our Sexy Friday correspondent, noted satirist and famed skewer of Kings, Johnathan Swift, (not to be confused with noted stopper and saviour of the LA Kings Jonathan Quick.)
- Yeah, verily, on this most glorious of days (any dawning of the morn after a win versus ye auld enemy the Bruins of Olde Towne Boston is, truly, the most glorious of days, my friends) let us tarry and wax poetic about all that was excellent last evening, the day of Remembrance:
- Who amongst thou wouldst turn thy noses up at a further five regular season conflagrations, and a further dalliance with ye auld enemy in Ursine colours in the playdowns for that most hallowed of goblets, Lord Stanley's Cup? Not I, forsooth. Give me a veritable plethora of such examples of ice skating majesty and I will turn all the Colonies of the Americas on to this Nordic game of skill and speed in a fortnight.
- Hath thou every been privy to such a duel of young masters such as that proffered by young Saviour of yon Habitants Carey Price, Esq.,and his counterpart in the Olde Towne Team's gilded cage mask, Mr. Tuukka Rask, Esq.? Fie on those who wish other than to bear witness to a decade of these two premier puck preventers facing off in glorious bleu, blanc et rouge and sinister noire et or, for glory and the challenge of Northeastern Supremacy. I tell you, that pie-shaped Tim Thomas can off to the colonies of New France's Southern ports to play with the Bossier-Shreveport Mudbugs forthwith.
- Yon former denizens of the Garden State of New Jersey hath thrown off the shackles of their oppressive slumps and both slyly slid the round disk of vulcanized rubber into the vainly guarded goal. Huzzah!! Well taken, Messrs Gionta and Gomez.
- A jaunty tip of the three-cornered hat and a click of my buckled shoe to others who shone as bright at the sun on the Union Jack last eve, including young Master PFK, whose display of strong armed tiptoeing across the blueline whilst holding off Boston defenders as the East India Company holds back the pirate hordes is a sight to behold; to our brave friend from the Court of Katherine the Great Mr. Markov, who is rounding into top form; to our unsung and brave footsoldiers Darche, Halpern, Eller, Pyatt, Spacek and Hamrlik. A special huzzah reserved for the resurrected Chicken, who is trying to marry his considerable talents to the hardwork of a London dockworker to good results.
- Sadly, all is not tea and crumpets, as our fiery Gallic saviour Mad Max seems a shadow of himself still. Perhaps a dram of mead and some figgy pudding in the observer's box for a match or two would reignite his passions!
- Our stratagists often receive the sharp barbs of our whipped tongues, but last night our generals Chocula, Pearn and Muller laid forth a plan that rivals those of Wellington versus Napoleon. Well played, yon goodly leaders of men! Master Julien was right soundly matched.
- A pair of markers whilst enjoying a rules based numerical advantage? A perfect defense of same numerical disadvantages? A barrage at the opposing goal that resembled the volley of arrows that the Spartans faced at the gates of Thermopylae? Ye Gods, I approve heartily!
- Wouldst thou like to celebrate Sexy Friday with a Sexy Pirate? Does a Jacobite toast the King over the water?
