MYFO bids farewell to those teams who were unfortunate (read: untalented) to not make the Stanley Cup Playoffs. Here’s what the losing teams in the Pacific Division have to look forward to next year:
Phoenix Coyotes: Ilya Bryzgalov will have more time to design a mask.
Bryz’s art should hang in the Getty Museum.
Left Side of Mask: Wile E. Coyote painting a hole in Bryz’s mask. Opposing players will shoot at the hole and hit Bryzgalov flush in the temple, knocking Ilya out numerous times. While wearing the mask, a confused Bryzgalov will punch the hole in an attempt to bust through the plastic, but he will merely break his hand, forcing the Coyotes to start Mikael Tellqvist. Rick Tocchet stops betting on his team to win.
Right Side of Mask: Peter Coyote’s number for free food and shelter for those who wish to reenact the Summer of Love.
Top of Mask: A Steve Englehart drawing.
Los Angeles Kings: They’re further away from 2006, despite Richard Ashcroft’s beliefs.
What awful sports event transpired that year? Besides the death of Cory Lidle and Pot Roast & Gravy? Crash won the Oscar for Best Picture that fateful year, thereby confirming my belief that Scientology is buttfucking Hollywood, which prevents the disposal of shitty films. Racism exists? Get out! No, seriously, get the hell out of the movie industry, Paul Haggis. Middle-school dialogue, poorly designed static characters that seem dynamic at first, and the statistics about incarcerated minorities filled my 2006 Pain Quotient.
Why do the Kings and Crash connect in my head? Four lines:
Ludie LUUUU!!!: You could fill the Staples Center with what you don’t know.
Larenz Tate: The Kings are playing tonight.
LUDA!!!!!: You don’t like hockey! You just say you do to piss me off!
Larenz Tate: [dejected] I love hockey!
Those aren’t the actual character names, but why would anyone cast Chris Bridges in a serious role? I can’t look at the man without thinking about hos in different area codes, and you ask me to believe that he hates rap music? I’m only a human incapable of objective analysis.
Perhaps I’ll forget about this blight on humanity next year. But I’ll never forget Matt Dillon fingering a woman and getting away with it.
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