Posted in *Clank!*, Bummerdude, Devils, Free Agency, Huh?, Ilya Kovalchuk?!?!?!? WTF????, Insightful Hockey Commentary, News and Notes, Off-Season, Players Come Players Go, Sad, Sadder, Saddest, The Opposite Of Pandodoodling, This Is No Laughing Matter, Totally Totally Depressing on July 21, 2010 |
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The scene: ChucklesNation International airport, in the deserted arrivals hall.
Gary Bettman darts out of a shadowy doorway, slinks around the perimeter of the hall, forages a half-eaten cinnabon from a garbage can, hisses softly at the Ookies, then scurries away.
The Ookies: “We got our cymballs out of storage for that?”
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These are dark times at stately IPB Manor. The corrupt ruling priest classes of PandoNation and PaulieMartinNation have been walking on eggshells as the free agency period has drawn closer, and today the first horrible blow was dealt: PandoNation’s emperor-god is no more.
After the initial shock wore off from hearing the news, and after several hours of ululation, shrill keening, and much rending of garments and hair, the corrupt ruling priest class of PandoNation, stuck working their day job, got online with the corrupt ruling priest class of PaulieMartinNation to discuss how to move forward. Pookie greeted the news in her typical implacable fashion — she declared that Pando was, at that moment, ascending to Interchangeable Parts Heaven in his fiery chariot.
Unlike some gracious fans of players who have played their entire careers with one team, Schnookie does not embrace the notion of Pando wearing another team’s sweater. She proclaimed to Pookie, “I am so far beyond not wanting him to go to another team, to the point where he is, until he retires, literally invisible and dead to me. Pando as a non-Devil doesn’t exist.” Pookie, ever the cooler head, had higher hopes: “I don’t want him going to another team. I want him to melt the waiver wire with the glow of his heavenly chariot.”
Whatever happens to Pando the hockey player, the streets of PandoNation are running red with blood tonight. When the chaos and violence subside, the remaining citizenry will pull up stakes and head out to -Nations far and wide; someday all that will be left of a once-proud civilization will be the crumbled foundations of its temples, the pottery sherds in its garbage pits, and the base of its towering sculpture centerpiece, with its inscription “My name is Pando, king of kings. Look upon my works ye mighty and despair”.
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