Hockey Night In Canada — Not

- May 5th, 2012

I am so ticked off by the asinine NHL playoff schedule.

 

How ticked off am I?

 

I’m so ticked off that I’m sitting here at a computer on Saturday night writing this screed of (what I hope is) virulent turpitude aimed at the bottom-feeding, arse-licking NHL powers-that-be rather than out doing something culturally beneficial and/or personally stimulating.

 

I feel like Charlie Brown lying flat on his back after Lucy pulls the football away.

 

Why?

 

Because — like a complete rube-idiot-Canadian-optimist — I just assumed there would be an NHL playoff game on Hockey Night In Canada tonight (Saturday night).

 

Oh sure, they blew it last weekend, but I figured they would work out the kinks and get it right by this weekend.

 

So I didn’t even bother to check the TV schedule before settling in to enjoy that wonderful brand of hockey we call the playoffs. I figured it would be Rangers and Caps tonight, an enjoyable series.

 

Well, bowl me over and f*** me with a footstool (as one of my Facebook friends likes to say). Was I ever wrong.

 

I’m not even going to waste my time looking to see when the Saturday and Sunday NHL playoff games are actually scheduled this weekend. I already know this — they aren’t being played when they’re SUPPOSED to be played.

 

Which is at night. Especially on Saturday night.

 

Football (both kinds) is/are played in the afternoon. Baseball is played in the afternoon. Tiddlywinks is probably played in the afternoon.

 

NHL HOCKEY IS PLAYED AT NIGHT.

 

What will it take to get that through your thick, NFL- and MLB-envious brains, you toad-like, cretinous, bottom-feeding, arse-licking  NHL footstools?

 

I give up. You are past redemption.

 

I know you want to expand (NHL speak for “stay alive”) in the U.S., but do you really have to alienate and obliterate every Canadian hockey tradition and ingrained NEED?

 

Oh you foul, befouling, unmitigated NHL disaster monkeys..

 

Before I wander aimlessly out into the night, all I can do is leave you with a parting curse from my dear friend, William Shakespeare:

 

“You scullion! You rampallian! You fustilarian! I’ll tickle your catastrophe!”

— from Henry IV, Part 2

 

 

 

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