Thrashers @ Wings tonight.

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all. I apologize to all three of The Scrappy Octopus's loyal readers for the sporadic posting over the past week or so; as Brian noted, I've been feeling under the weather (NOT dysentery, however, thank you very much--it was actually cholera, contracted somewhere between Independence and Chimney Rock; I didn't stand a chance in the wagon). So, this week, it's been no work for me, lounging about in my PJs with my awesome dog Lucy, enriching my brain with the likes of The Maury Show and conspiracy-theory bullshit on ID. (Have you WATCHED that channel?! The mind reels...) I emerged from my lair to write the piece of Georges Laraque the other day because I was too pissed to give lie detector results and paternity testing the full attention they deserve, but other than that, I've been taking it easy.

Speaking of Laraque, he's suspended for five games. Big fucking deal. I wish the NHL would institute a rule for people guilty of dirty hits to be suspended for the duration of time that their victims are sidelined due to injury. Or, I wish Brad May would just kick his ass. Whatever's easier.

So, I'm not going to talk about Monday's game against Nashville, not really because it sucked, but mostly because I didn't get to see it because Versus sucks ass, and I'm even more pissed because I didn't get to see Darren McCarty do his thing. It's kind of a silent protest. It's supposed to accomplish...something. I read about it once. Trust me; it'll work.

So, tonight, the Wings take on the Atlanta Thrashers. First things first: Can somebody please tell me what in the fuck their logo means?



It's almost Sphinx-like in its enigmatic nature, not to mention the fact that the head looks like it belongs to a creature different from the one to which it is attached. It's as if Michaelangelo masterfully drew the head of an eagle...and ran out of creativity and talent, and instead, crafted the rest of the body using a melty turd.

I've never met an Atlanta Thrashers fan. Since I'm assuming none of you have met any, either (because I'm pretty sure there are only, like, 40 total), I present you this. Gear down:



I most enjoy the song--not sure what it is, but I like to think of it as a love child of an "If They Mated" featuring the Oak Ridge Boys and Ricky Skaggs.

And because it's Thanksgiving, I'm going to be generous and give you a bonus:



I'm not sure what to be more impressed by: The fact that this guy cares that much about the outcome of the Thrashers game, or the fact that the following was posted in the comments section on YouTube:

PLEASE DON'T READ THIS. You will get kissed on the nearest possible Friday by the love of your life. Tomorrow will be the best day of your life. However, if you don't post this comment to at least 3 videos, you will die within 2 days. Copy and paste this, to be saved

Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no. I don't want to perish within the next two days! My festive dealer promised me a twofer on dime bags for Black Friday. (Just kidding, of course. I just wanted to make a lame joke. This blog and its writers are on the straight edge. Well, except for Brian. But that's only because he's attracted to the repetitious vowels in quaaludes.)

Have a marvelous Thanksgiving! Go Wings.