11 June, 2006

I've had it.

OK, now I'm angry.

ONE win--ONE--and all of a sudden the trolls decide to come out from under their rocks. Our captain pops off in frustration, and all of a sudden (according to ESPN hack EJ Hradek) he's got no class despite an entire career's worth of evidence to the contrary. Suddenly OilersNation are experts on the Hurricanes AND their players (except Doug Weight) AND their coach--EVEN THOUGH MAYBE FIVE OF THEM HAVE EVER WATCHED US PLAY, EVER--and they're predicting that we'll fold like the Red Wings, Sharks, and Ducks did.


I've had it. I'm calling my mother RIGHT NOW and telling her to dig out my old Kevin Lowe poster and burn it--only because I can't make it up to North Dakota to do the job myself. Same with my Oilers scrapbook and all the old newspaper columns that I ever saved about the Oilers.


My Panini sticker albums have been lost to time, so I can't tear the Oilers pages out and burn them. I can't find my cards, so I can't burn the Oilers ones. And I'd nuke the Oilers jersey that I have in the closet, but I can't find the damn thing.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. I cannot forgive.

I hereby disavow and forsake any and all affection that I've ever had for the Edmonton Oilers.

There is no team but the Hurricanes, and Rod is its Warchief.

And I don't care what anyone has to say about it, because I. WANT. A. CUP. And I want to see CAROLINA HURRICANES 2005-2006 get engraved on it, too! I want people to have to see for the next 65 years that the CAROLINA HURRICANES are Stanley Cup Champions. I want the right to touch the Cup before I die, and I WILL NOT BE DENIED--and if I have to get on a plane to Edmonton RIGHT NOW and get my gimpy ass out on the ice and show those Men of Will what Will really is, THEN I WILL DAMMIT because I WANT THE CUP.

I want the Oilers to know PAIN. I want them to know FEAR. And then I want them to DIE. And I don't care if they have a pleasant flight or not, because I am far too angry to care right now.