Habs 3, Sens 0 -- The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves

Let us step into the Way Back Machine for a moment, shall we? Let us revisit those heady days of November, where all was sweetness and light, sunshine and lollipops.

Now there's been some crazy talk around these here interwebs that this year's Sens team may equal, or even surpass the all time win record set by the 1976 Montreal Canadiens...

...allow me to state the following with neither qualm nor reservation: IT AIN'T GONNA HAPPEN SO EVERYBODY SHOULD JUST CALM THE FUCK DOWN! Thank you. As you were.

We were 13-2 when I wrote that. Two games later, our (four month) long national nightmare began, and now we find ourselves two points out of...GUH!...Leaf land. Coincidence? I'll let A&E's sad descent into low-brow programming decide. But one thing is clear. The Forum ghosts do not take kindly to heirs presumptive stealing their thunder, no matter how helpful you've been to them in the past. And they will punish you. Severely.

I, for one, welcome our new Northeast Division Overlords.

The Highs:

• I'm sorry. You must be new around here: We've lost three in a row, the last two by shut-out, when the pressure to win is higher than it's been at any point this season. We're holding onto a playoff spot by the equivalent of Brian Lee's newly developed pubic hair. Our goaltending sucks moose balls, and our defence is even worse. In short, not a single fucking one.

The Lows! Brought to you by FEMA. At FEMA, we're always ready to say "Ahhh, Screw It! It's Just Too Hard!":

• Well, this is probably as good a place to start as any: We gave one of, if not the, most scary ass power plays in the league six chances, FOUR in the first ten minutes of the game, including one 5-on-3. They scored on two of them (including the aforementioned two man advantage). Now, I'm no rocket surgeon, but glancing at the final score, this would seem to me to be a rather foolish way to go about trying to win a hockey game. But then, I'm just a fan, right? I don't know anything.

• What is this "Homo Erectus" of which you speak?: The net is six feet wide. The cross-bar is four feet off the ice. That's twenty-four square feet (see Ma?!? Can too do the maths!) of empty space a pro goalie has to cover. And if we had a pro goalie, I'm sure that wouldn't be that big a problem. But we don't. We have Zippy the Wonder Ego and Swiss Pastry. I'll cut Pastry (very little) slack on flopping around like a wounded bass on the first goal (it was 5-on-3 after all), but as I so eloquently stated in the FHF game thread following Dandenault's goal over his shoulder to put the Habs up 2-0...STAND UP, FUCKSTICK!

• Get me Kevin Lowe on the phone!: What do you get if you mate a retarded mule with a dead jelly fish? You get the defensive stylings of Wade Redden and Andrej Meszaros. Put them together on the same line, as The Bryan inexplicably kept doing? Worlds collide. While their little contest for Biggest Fuck Up of the Night was cute (in a chew-through-drywall-in-a-boiling-rage kind of way), July 1st can't get here soon enough.

• I could have sworn the schedule said this was a home game: Look, Sens fans. We all know that when either the Habs or Leafs are in town, we can expect a little noise from the visitor's fans. But seriously, would it kill you to at least attempt to drown them out, at least for the benefit of those of us who can't afford the mortgage payment it would take to buy tickets? Everyone who allowed that fucking "OLE!" song to reverberate around SBP (three minutes into the game!) without any kind of retort, should at the very least, hang your heads in shame. Or give your tickets to REAL fans. After all, think of how easy your dash to the parking lot half way through the third period would be if you never actually left the house. Assholes.

Creamy Middle:

This picture was taken in OUR house, and it perfectly summarizes how we played this game. It also serves as a fitting epitaph to this nightmare of a season, don't you think?

Shamelessly pilfered without permission from Four Habs Fans.

Pithy Observation of Absolutely No Importance Whatever:

Just as the third period began, the piercing klaxon of an air horn echoed briefly through the building. I can guarantee that didn't come from a Sens fan. I know our home crowd. And they know the SBP "security" teams. There is no way, on God's green earth, that their usual grossly inflated sense of self-importance would have allowed them to ignore such a brazen violation of the "No Fun" policy. In fact, I'd be surprised if Air Horn Boy made it out of the building alive.

Up Next:

Wouldn't you know it? Our entire season comes down to a late season game against the Laffs. It's as if every single nightmare I've had over the last 16 years has coalesced into one game, a kind of karmic stew from the pits of Hell, with Pat Quinn, Gary Roberts and Darcy Fucking Tucker stirring the pot with empty souls and maniacal laughter (Jesus, I gotta lay off the booze!). Does this mean it'll stop me from shelling out the $10.95 (plus tax) for the Pay Per Screwed feed to watch them putting the shiv in our backs? Not a goddamned chance.

Behind Enemy Lines:

The Battle of Ontario open thread is the only place to be for this one. If we're going to go down in flames, we may as well do our damnedest to take a few Leaf fans with us. Or meet them on the way down. Either one works for me.