Vesa Toskala Would Like a Terminal Disease

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Oh Jason Blake. You’re so brave. I mean, your myeloid cell count is greater than the number of hot wings Keith Tkachuk ate last night. The Toronto Maple Leafs family have rallied around you. I just have one question: could you bleed into this open wound? Spit in my Finlandia and tonic? Stick it in my fivehole?

I have your back, just like the rest of the team. Unfortunately, you don’t seem to have mine. Does CML prevent you from playing some fucking defense? Your lovetaps on Eric Staal and Cory Stillman were cute. But you’re gonna score 40 goals again before you knock either one of them down. Instead, why don’t you block some shots? Your bones aren’t that weak.

What, leukemia isn’t a communicable disease? Bullshit. I know a bunch of corpses when I see ‘em. Hal Gill was less mobile than the Elephant Man’s head last night. What do you mean that’s better than usual? Well, Paul Maurice could’ve done something other than stand in constipation. We had no fucking shot after the second period, which is the perfect time to put in Raycroft, the admission of a team’s losing kismet. Don’t give me that “Work Harder” propaganda. Do I look like Jurgis Rudkis to you?

You already have the entire league’s sympathy, Mr. Clubhouse Cancer. The least you could do is direct some of that towards someone in more pain. If you can’t infect me, please direct me to the nearest monkey lab, Area 51, or your mother’s house.

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2 Comments

  1. Hey Leafs, just put in Scott Clemmensen

  2. Outstanding.


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