I’m briefly ending my boycott because Lucic scored a damn goal

He. Did. It.

He finally did it. Milan’s first goal in North America in 60 games dating back to last season. March 5, 2018: That was the last time this oversized boat anchor buried on North American soil. Unless you live under a rock and/or have been living in a place without any modern technology (Winnipeg) you’ll know that’s only Milan’s second goal of the season. That’s two goals in 43 games, or as we mathematicians like to say, “on pace for about 3.5 goals this year.” What’s Daddy Looch have to say about that?:

About fucking time, indeed.

For those actually still watching/keeping score at home, that’s two solid games in a row by the impregnable contract. His value has never been higher. Trade him immediately.

I kid. He can’t be traded. We’re stuck with him like herpes. We’d go on to lose 7-2.

Now about that aforementioned boycott

A disturbing amount of people have asked where the blogs have been. I thought it was (semi) clear in my last published post that I simply no longer can write about/support the organization so long as that bald-headed butt-licking shit-sniffing imbecile of a general manager is operating our franchise. That includes publishing blogs. The moment you lose a trade involving goddamn Jason Garrison my personal nemesis Drake Caggiula is the exact moment I no longer have any fucks left to give about the organization. How can you lose that trade?! There were maybe three or four players in the entire league I wouldn’t have traded Caggiula for and Brandon Manning was one of them, and I completely forgot that Jason Garrison was still on the roster until we dealt his since-waived ass to Chicago. At the start of the year, I thought there were like four GMs more incompetent than Peter: Marc Bergevin, Pierre Dorion, Stan Bowman and Dale Tallon, and then Peter successfully lost trades to two of those individuals in the span of approximately eight minutes. Now there’s this believable bullshittery floating around the Twitter Universe:

To put some context into this potentially catastrophic debacle, Peter’s undying love for Ottawa’s most abhorrently overpaid and god awful defenseman has frighteningly resurfaced amidst talk of his job security. There’s no doubt in my mind that General Dipshit would trade our first round pick plus Jesse Puljujarvi for all 39% of Cody Ceci’s fucking goal share if it meant salvaging whatever’s left of what will undoubtedly be his last job as an NHL general manager. And you know that propaganda dictator Bob Stauffer will eat that trade up like it’s an all-you-can-eat Royal Pizza buffet if it goes down. If the Oilers traded Connor McDavid for a molding tofu burger, Stauffer – the mayor of imbecilic tribalism – would spin it as a positive for the franchise. The rest of the puppets would soon follow suit. That decrepit old sack of mashed potatoes Jim Matheson probably already has his “this is good defensive depth” blog typed in anticipation of the Oilers trading for yet another grossly overpaid 6/7, and assuming he’s finished pissing in a sink, Dave Staples won’t be too far behind him.

And this is what we’re stuck with: Old idiots suffering from a crippling case of regurgitating-anything-this-Daryl-Katz-owned-franchise-does-as-a-positive-itis so that the Dirtbag Donny’s and every Beer League Hero in the city of Edmonton dumps their unwavering support for this hockey club directly into the pockets of Daryl’s Malibu mortgage. It’s an unbreakably endless nightmare of a continuum as ancient as Jim Matheson himself. Rinse. Dry. Repeat.

And therein lies the issue I have. On one hand, fuck this organization with every former player we’ve made up a position to employ. On the other hand, Hank and I started ENS essentially on the merit of helping suffering Oilers fans get through the bullshit by providing contextual humour to this monotonous tragedy. But how can I give you my abnormally outlandish grievance when I no longer watch the majority of our games? I can’t write a morning after blog about whatever didn’t happen the night before if I’m watching anything but hockey. And oh boy, let me tell you, I’ve been watching anything but this sport for the better part of three weeks. I’m regularly watching the goddamn Premiere League. That’s soccer, man. I’m watching fucking soccer because I get more joy out of a 1-nil Watford/Crystal Palace atrocity than I am watching the hockey team with Connor McDavid on it. That’s how far my patience has run with the team. They might sneak into a wildcard spot because the west is so abysmally abysmal. And perhaps a first-round playoff knockout is enticing to some. It’s not for me. No way that this team, in the fourth year of Connor’s magnificence, should be gunning for a chance at getting swept in the first round. I would much rather miss the playoffs and force Peter to send his Harvard resume to Bed Bath and Beyond than be beaten to death by Calgary in the first round. I can’t handle Matt Tkachuk’s pizza face and Johnny Gaudreau’s Lady Byngs and Sam Bennett’s no goddamn chin-ups beating us in a seven-game series. I’m sorry if you feel different. This is where I’m at thanks to a decade of inexcusable incompetence.

Perhaps I’ll write again under this ridiculous current regime. Perhaps not. I can’t promise regular posts as of this moment. I can promise that, like you, I am hurting. And that I still have hope that one day this pathetic excuse of a franchise will figure its shit out, hopefully before it’s too late and Connor seeks asylum literally anywhere else. God bless.

PS – What the fuck, Oilers?

PSS – I tweeted this out a few days ago and people seemed to laugh, so if you haven’t checked this out, here are some direct quotes by El Daryl and the still-somehow-employed Kevin Lowe from the very first episode of “Oil Change”:

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