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Friday Night Drunk Fucking Presser

*sigh*

Are you kidding me?  October twenty fucking sixth...  ten more days until the end of the world when the American Nazis go to the polls.  Oh fuck God help us all!  We need the rational, logical, intelligent folks north of the border to invade...  right the fuck now!!!  Please!!  I implore you all!

If you have any sense of justice whatsoever, you need to march south and commandeer all the polling places in the red states!  Don't worry about Famous Anus...  He's just a reality TV moron!

Okay!  Friday night...  Where was I?  A presser...  yes?

It's been a while but let's see what happens without patrental supervision...

First question from the muscle guy in the first row...  you there...  What's your name and what's your question?

"Sir?  First, I want to thank you for taking my question...  My name is Shane and I want to know...   Am I really in 1st place in the East?  Am I dreaming?

"Shane Shane Shane my boy...  Yes, despite all odds and reason, you are at the acme of the East after 11 games.  Not to worry, though...  iIlusions are usually short term things and soon you'll be sucking Hoover's you-know-what, fighting for a post season spot."

Next question?

"Hi!  My name is Anthony.  I'm ahead in the West and the guys all tell me my roster is awesome.  What does Don Cherry think?

"Anthony?  Really?  With a PDO of 1068?  You must be PDO (Pretty Dumb Overall!) if you think ten games mean anything in this league.  Come back and ask that question around the trade deadline and we'll see how that flies."

"Mister?  Kevin here...  Is there anything I can say that hasn't already been said about m team?"

"Kevin?  Ask that question in about a week and I guaran-fucking-tee you that your wife will have plenty to say that you've never heard before about everything you never cared about and about why you're wrong about every-fucking-thing your ever did care about."

"Hello?  I'm Trev, the GM of the Panthers and you know what that means...  YOU LOSER!!!"

"Next question?"

"Hi there shitfaced...  I'm JJ, GM of the Oilers...  sitting happily in 2nd place, in case you haven't noticed.  Games in hand...  6-2-0-1...  Can Hoover possibly be THAT wrong?"

"JJ...  JJ...  JJ...   Clearly you have something besides games in your hand...  Don't be deceived.  You basically suck slightly less than the other Western suckage squads after 9 games.  God will come and straighten you out shortly."

"I've got the Cup!!!" yells GM Brent...  who sits at 3-6 after 9 games.  "It's a long season and you'll see...  I'll be there when it counts!"

"Yeah yeah yeah...  There's only one long thing on Friday nights...  and it ain't the season and it ain't in your pants!  So stop counting and start winning!"

"Okay...  before I pass out here..  One final question...  you there...  the Red Wings guy...  the loser...  What's your beef?"

"Pourquoi ne puis-je pas gagner de jeux?  S'il vous plaît dites-moi!!"

"C'est quoi ce bordel!"

This presser is over!!!  Seeya sometime down the road up the road!