Leftover Valentine's candy.

UPDATE: Now including poems submitted by some of our fabulous readers via comments.

Happy belated Valentine's Day, scrappy readers. We were going to let this fun-filled, jailsexed romp of a holiday go unscathed by our demented minds until one of our espionage-specializing affiliates unearthed a treasure chest from the Wings' locker room. Turns out they hired a consultant to assist them with their Valentine's Day endeavors, but not a terribly creative one: He/she just helped them write poems to their respective beloveds by revising the cliched "Roses are red..." ditty.

Far be it for us to withhold such amazing insight into the minds of our boys.

Some of them are just sweet:

Henrik Zetterberg:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I can't wait to come home,
Where it's just us two. (Whammy!)

Kirk Maltby:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
While we've been together for years,
My love only grew.

Kris Draper:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
For you there is nothing
That I wouldn't do.

Brad Stuart:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I will love you
My whole life through.

Others are well-meaning, albeit a little unorthodox:

Nicklas Lidstrom:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Let's make love like cyborgs,
The way we always do.

Todd Bertuzzi:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I wish I knew another word
That rhymes with blue.

Darren Helm:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
How did you catch me,
Considering how quickly I flew?

Niklas Kronwall:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
My fans will all be KRONWALLED
To show them my love is true.

And some are just, well, awesome:

Pavel Datsyuk:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I trust my eyes to Dr. Rahmani,
You should, too.

Johan Franzen:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Why don't we get drunk
And screw?

Tomas Holmstrom (a bit of a copycat, but with his unique twist):
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
For sure, why don't we get drunk
And screw?

Jason Williams:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Hey, while you're up,
Can you grab me a Mountain Dew?

Valtteri Filppula:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
You're nice and all,
But you'll never mess up my 'do.

Jonathan Ericsson:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Until I saw myself in the mirror,
Never thought anyone was as pretty as you.

Chris Osgood:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
My goaltending situation sucks,
So how about a brew?

Jimmy Howard:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
My goaltending situation rocks,
So how about a brew?

Ville Leino (found crumpled up in the corner):
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
To get past my stalker vibe,
Enclosed please find glue.

Interestingly, there was another one from Todd Bertuzzi:

Todd Bertuzzi:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
The day you crossed me, Michael Petrella,
Is the day you'll soon come to rue.

***

Response from Michael Petrella to Todd Bertuzzi
Roses are red,
Violence is blue.
Steve Moore's neck is sore,
I bet your soul is, too.

***

Submitted by Nurse Nitz

For the Big Rig:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
You know we can always count on
A costly turnover from you

For Abby:
Roses are Red,
Violets are blue,
I miss that big butt of yours
Landing hits on a player or two

For some of the awesome fans on here:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Watch out for Dena, Johan,
She wants baby mules with you.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Jailsexed, frolicking, and She-Tuzzi
Wings fans, how I love you.

***

From saraneuie to Johan Franzen:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Dena and I want to spoil rotten
Those small mules for you.

***

Submitted by Andy:

Roses are red,
violets are blue,
my stare can kill puppies
and it will kill you too
(Babs)

Roses are red,
violets are blue,
and in Soviet Russia
Mule rides you

Roses are red,
violets are blue,
I'm so god damn proud
of my red white and blue
(Tollefsen, not funny, but had to be said)

Roses are red,
violets are blue,
I get paid to watch hockey
So I still own you
(Leino)

***

More from saraneuie:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
In Soviet Russia
Dr. Rahmani trusts you

***

More from Nurse Nitz:

Canadians are white & red,
Americans are red, white & blue,
Brian Rafalski can score goals,
Who freakin' knew??

For both Ryan Miller & Ryan Kesler:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
The Americans won the big game,
Ryan, the kudos go to you!

For 20-cent:

Rose are red,
Violets are blue,
That cheap cabby-punching Kane,
I really hate rooting for you.

For Homer, regarding the totally FAIL effort by Finland vs. Sweden last night:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Watching from his lazy-boy at home,
Homer's handmade Viking darts hit you.

***

And a few more from yours truly:

To Pavel Datsyuk:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Your puck-handling's so amazing,
Does your stick contain glue?

Also to Pavel Datsyuk:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
If you ever snag the Hart,
My heart will turn to goo.

To Brett Lebda:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Does it make you feel shitty
To know you make me boo?

To Tomas Holmstrom:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
You inspire me to make animal sounds
So here I go: "Moo."

(That's just because I think Homer and I could have kid-like fun together. Oh, how I love him.)

To Niklas Kronwall:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Are you aware that many TSO readers
Want to take you in a loo?

To Patrick Eaves:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
How crazy your eyebrows are
You haven't a clue.

(I love Eaves, but come on. He has some CA-RAZY eyebrows.)

To Jiri Hudler:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Your clucking belongs
In mine and Homer's zoo.

(I STILL miss Huds.)

To fans everywhere:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Red Wings fans are the greatest,
Our mad love is most true.

To anyone who hates Wings fans:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Hockeytown haters beware:
To you I'll fling poo.

Welcome back to Homer & the Mule.

Once again, our fabulous readers @saraneuie and @nursenitz have plied us with collages of Homer's and Franzen's first games back at the Joe after the 1,000-year road trip. Alas, like the elusive butterfly he is, Homer exacerbated the knee injury during Saturday's game, and it looks as though the Mule will play for him in the Olympics after all. Egg on your face much, Sweden?

Poor Homer, though. That's gotta be beyond disappointing for him. (Anybody want to speculate on what Homer's favorite form of exercising his demons is? I'm guessing it probably has something to do with eating cats or perhaps steel wool granules while donning a Moses-style headpiece and screaming into the night wind.)

On a brighter note, here are some visual snacks for your enjoyment. I'm pretty sure the Homer one is going up in my place of employment. Sara titled the one for #93 "Franzen and His Mustache." I gotta say, I'm digging the mustache, but then again, I like Franzen's red playoff beard. It makes him look like even more of a badass.

A night of effort, heebie-jeebies, and frustration.

So as you saw tonight, the Wings lost to the Sharks...

...fuck a bunch. The Wings played a great game overall tonight. A ton of effort, all kinds of chances, and they just couldn't get it done. Tonight's game was maddening. This might have been one of the better efforts all season, and it wasn't to be. This is all at the expense of our sanity. I don't get it. I know they played a good game tonight. Why, however, is it always the Wings who have a ton of chances but just cant get it done? Why can't these guys light the lamp? So, so many open chances. Whatever. I guess it doesn't really matter. Some of my highlights from the game...

1. Franzen looks like a ginger possessed. For all those who wondered what state he'd come back in, he's told us - super bad ass. That's the state.

2. I'm pretty sure Darren Helm has not had a bad game yet.

3. Jimmy certainly saved our ass countless times. I have no idea how he can do the things he does.

4. It's good to have a top line back.

5. Bleh. They really have to start getting some WINS on the board, right? Great effort, great chances, but came up short. I'm too sleepy for this.

6. I'm prone to overreaction, but shootouts. What's up with that? How are we THAT bad at 'em?

Is it Olympic time yet?

"Recap" & Waylon Wednesday.

So, there was a game last night. Against the St. Louis Blues. No, we didn't watch it. Versus + dial-up internet at home = no dice for such games. But here's what we learned from monitoring the game summary and reading other people's recaps:

1. We earned a point last night because the game went to OT, and, eventually, a shootout. Commence celebrations in the form of nipple clamping and bukkake sandwiches.

2. According to The Triple Deke and The Production Line, Johan Franzen rocked a sweet mustache. And in addition to feeling distraught over missing the Mule's first game back since his 1,247-year-long stint on IR (no, seriously, doesn't it feel like it's been that long?), we're equally disturbed we missed out on that, as well. After all, TSO is your one-stop shop for all things mustache rides and dirty Sanchezes, which are a form of mustache, if you think about it. (Go ahead and think about it. You know you want to.)

3. Further according to TPL (in a guest post written by Chris Hollis of Motown Wings and The Obstructed View fame), Henrik Zetterberg should not be allowed in a shootout ever again. Not seeing the game last night, I can't judge his effort; however, he has not had a particularly strong year when it comes to shootouts. Ballin' B and I talked about this yesterday while we awaited the results of the riveting game summary during the shootout (refreshes every 30 seconds for your convenience). The last time I saw, his shootout success rate hovered somewhere in the early 30% range. Far be it for me to question seriously Babcock's judgment in selecting his shooters (oh, puh-leeze, like anybody takes this site seriously, anyway), but it does get frustrating to watch the same players fail to convert time and time again (ahem, Dan Cleary, during all the injuries, way back about 3+ weeks ago). Then again, how shitty would it be if Babcock replaced his star players with under-the-radar guys and still came up short? Six in one hand, half a dozen in the other. Shootouts suck; I have no problem watching other teams participate in them, but when it comes to the Wings, my heart sinks every time the OT clock winds down.

4. Jimmy Howard stopped 42 of 45 shots on goal last night, including the 5:00 of OT. Twenty of those shots were in the first period. The mind fucking reels.

5. Kris Draper's persistence as of late paid off last night in the form of scoring the first goal of the game.

Questions I have for people who caught the game:

1. How the fuck did Todd Bertuzzi manage to commit a penalty only 0:28 into the game? Did somebody urinate on his skates? Threaten to force him into a glass-bottom boat scenario? Taunt him with accusations of his mom smelling like cheese?

2. Brad May got into a fight. How did that work out?

And that's all I really want to know. No, seriously. We're going to adopt the motto of the drag queen/transvestite in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil: "Two tears in a bucket, motherfuck it." The Wings take on the Sharks on Thursday. Go big or go...home? How does that work if they're already at home? I guess it's go big or leave home, in that case? Whatev. Our satellite is still jacked up (SNOWPOCALYPSE!--no, really, we now have 4+ feet of snow and counting...I'm 99% sure I'm going to build an igloo and live in it for free or else charge someone for all my construction labor), so you may get another fantastic recap like this one or one of our oh-so-awesome real recaps when we watch it and still have nothing productive to say. Gear down!

***

Let's get to the point with our Wednesday question. This one's been asked all over the blogosphere, plus we delved into it the other week in our Wednesday comments, but it's hard not to bring it up formally since we're only two days away from the Opening Ceremony:

Which men's ice hockey team do you hope wins Olympic gold?

This is a toughie for me; I've been all over the place with my loyalties. Obviously, I'm an American and would be proud of my home country for winning the gold, despite Patrick Kane's craterfaced presence on the team. (No, seriously, there are no cab rides involved in ferrying the players about Vancouver, right? Just checking. Don't embarrass the stars and stripes, assfuck, or you'll have a lot to answer for 'round these parts.) We've got Rafalski on the roster, plus players TSO likes in the form of Ryan Miller, Tim Thomas, Jonathan Quick, and Jack Johnson. On the other hand, we also have Brooks Orpik, who annoys us only because he plays for Pittsburgh, and Ryan Whitney, who plays for the Ducks and has a girl's last name. I'll be happy enough if Team USA nabs the gold, but I won't be surprised if they don't because the competition is stiff.

Like many of you, the only thing I care about regarding Team Canada is Stevie Y and Babcock. Other than that, the team at large makes me ralph. Sidney Crosby, Ryan Getzlaf (who may return from his injury for some of the games), Scott Niedermayer, Chris Pronger, Duncan Keith, Brent Seabrook, Corey Perry, and Dany Heatley? Words fail me. How are Canadians dealing with this level of code red douchiness? I know Olympic gold is more important to our neighbors to the north than sex, air, or water but...blehhhhhhhh.

Team Sweden is stacked with winners, never mind the controversial snub of one Johan Franzen. Despite the annoying Sedins' presence on the roster, it's damn near impossible to find any reason to dislike the blue-and-yellow rascals, considering how many Wings made the cut. The only thing is...they've already won the gold.

Other than being inherently biased toward Team USA, I'm rooting for Team Russia. Their roster is stacked with fantastic NHL-ers: Our own Pavel Datsyuk, plus Ovie, Semin, Kovalchuk, SNB, Nabokov, and Bryzgalov. The only downer is that Russian gold means Malkin and Gonchar benefit, which is a bonafide tragedy, but really, I would love to see Pasha with a gold medal.

In any event, there's obviously a lot to root for--and against--each particular "powerhouse" team. Any of the aforesaid four countries taking home top honors will bring some sort of happiness, as well as a teeny, tiny iota of strife, to our lives. One thing I think we can all agree on is hoping that Team Slovakia is a wash; Marian Hossa, Marian Gaborik, and Tomas Kopecky with a gold medal in their hands? I'd rather watch somebody sign my own death certificate.

And now, a little mood music...because nothing gets me fired up for Team America (fuck, yeah!) quite like Waylon:

Neither one of us wants to be the first to say goodbye.

According to Twitterverse, Ville Leino has been traded to the Flyers in exchange for a 2011 fifth-round draft pick and Ole(!)-Kristian Tollefsen, who hails from Norway (hi, Andy) and according to Helene St. James, will be placed on waivers and subsequently shipped to Grand Rapids if he clears (kudos to @jennbikegirl for the Freep link). The official, necessary reason for the trade is that the Wings were in a must-act situation due to a lack of cap space upon Johan Franzen's imminent return to action; however, Ken Holland also offered up this tidbit of a quote:

"When we signed him, we had high hopes for him,” general manager Ken Holland said. “He played well for us in Detroit last year and with all the offense we lost last summer, we thought this was a great opportunity for him. For whatever reason, it just didn’t work out, and other players grabbed the reins while we had injuries."

Personally, I can't help but suspect that Leino's unabashed hitting on Dan Bylsma last week had something to do with the move. I mean, just because you're benched and you're bored, you can't walk around the opposing teams' locker room with your pickle hanging out, seeking pubescent-looking hotties to violate, Villster. Take that one as a lesson for the road.

Now, who wants to join TSO in a collective belly laugh picturing Leino fumblefucking around for the bruiser-y and blustery Flyers? Hi-lar-ious.

Eh, whatever. He's out of our hair now, and for fuck's sake, he's not even in our conference now. Best wishes, Villster, former love of my loins for about five minutes while I was being regretfully facetious, and thanks for the memories, mostly of you looking serial killer-grade psychotic:


Sayonara, fuckface. (Nice purple clown tee, though, jackass.)

The Leino-less Wings take on the Kings in L.A. today at 4 p.m. EST. I wonder if any of our California peeps are going to game. Hope it's a good one. These are one of a handful of our playoff-seeking nemeses, so once again, it goes without saying. TCOB, Red Wings.

We're going to try to catch the game; our satellite has been wonky all morning due to the metric shit ton of snow we've accumulated. I was just whining to Dena that we can't even drive on our main road, so if y'all don't hear from us within the next 36 hours or so, you may want to call the law to make sure we're ok.

Now, one last time for the road. Goodbye, Toby FlendersonVille Leino. It's been real:

So long, H-Cock.

Since I'm pretty sure Ken Hitchcock has no direct ties to the disaster in Haiti, I'm going to go ahead and do the following:

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Later, sucka.

Whitesnake Wednesday.

Another day. Another nut-bustin' day in which you learn one of the best players on your team is out...again, due to a tweak. No, seriously, I really did think that verb only applied to a specific act that may or may not occur during sexual congress. Not trying to be the moral police, but really, "tweaking" has no place on the ice.

Thanks to Petrella, via George Malik, we now know that Kronner's "tweaked" ankle makes him doubtful for tonight's game in Anaheim. Fuck a bunch.

So, on we go. What else can we do? Well, we could answer Wednesday's question (kudos to Brian for coming up with this one):

Who's your favorite "under the radar"* Wing (past or present) and why?

*We're defining "under the radar" pretty loosely here; you don't have to resort between choosing between Ville Leino or Mikael Samuelsson. Under the radar in this case means the player can have (or have had) success with the team, but he's not one of those players whose jerseys you see gajillions of at the Joe, nor is he one at whom all the ladies throw their unmentionables. In other words, your favorite non-superstar.

My answer's easy. Click here, here, or even here if you're not sure. I know it may be a stretch to call the guy leading the team in goals "under the radar," but I've never seen anyone wear a Homer jersey in person, nor do you hear anybody chattering about how hot he is, so that fits my definition, at least.

What about you guys?



Welcome back, Homer.

Wings drown Sharks, 4-2. (Regulation. Bitches.)

Christ on a stick, thankyouthankyouthankyou for giving us two points in regulation tonight. Mandatory keyboard explody type celebration time: sdofdofndofodsufowehofsfnds.

Super duper quick thoughts before calling it a night:

1. Welcome back, #96. Homer played like a man possessed tonight. Time and again, I've praised him on here for always working hard, and tonight, he displayed as much hustle and grit as ever. He notched an assist on each of the first two Wings' goals scored, and by the end of the game, he'd put six shots on goal.

2. When Kronner couldn't stay on his skates during one of the Sharks' power plays during the first period, I thought, "Fuck. Not again." Turned out it was just a broken blade on one of his skates. Then, for start of the third period, he didn't return to the bench; Derek Meech took his place on the power play. Late in the third period, FSD reported that Kronwall had a "slight tweak, nothing serious." After the game, Babcock indicated that he "tweaked his ankle." Hmm. I don't believe "tweak" is a serious medical offense, so we'll keep hoping for the best until we hear otherwise, right?

3. Speaking of Meech, he actually played a decent game; on the aforesaid power play, he scored a goal, and he elevated his defensive play throughout the game (particularly noticeable after he scored that goal). Way to finally play as if you give a shit about earning a permanent spot on the team, cochise.

4. Pavel Datsyuk and Henrik Zetterberg both had stellar efforts tonight. Zetterberg scored the Wings' second goal tonight on a power play, and feeling my heart soar while watching Homer reunited with the Eurotwins was a feeling I shant soon forget.

5. Speaking of Pasha, my jaw is still scraping the ground due to the fact that I witnessed Joe Thornton strip him of the puck during a Datsyukian playbook rush. I believe the universe attempted to negate this by later having Nabokov cough up a juicy rebound to Datsyuk, but still...

6. How about Brian Rafalski's defensive play along the boards during the final 60 seconds? Holy Jesus...

7. San Jose is really just too ridiculously good at faceoffs.

8. I like seeing Dan Cleary and Valtteri Filppula play together, and I didn't mind seeing Homer on the second line tonight, either, as much as I love the Flying Circus. I thought these three did a great job maintaining pressure and creating chances.

9. Patrick Eaves's goal was magnificent--I love when our guys are in the right position to catch the other team with the pants around their ankles, which is exactly what happened with San Jose here. Also worth noting is Kris Draper (who earned an assist on Eaves's goal) and Darren Helm, who also both had tremendous efforts tonight. Valtteri Filppula also showed up to rock and roll, earning himself two assists.

10. Joe Thornton is a dickhole for crashing into Jimmy late in the third. But thanks for negating that stressful 6-on-4 sitch, Joe. You just gotta hate it when that happens.

This was the most consistent effort the Wings have put forth recently. They were a little sluggish to start the game, but warmed up to a fever pitch during the final eight minutes of the first period. They were a little uneven at the beginning of the second period, but left all that soon behind after Cleary scored the first of four unanswered Wings' goals. The third period was all around outstanding for Detroit.

We owe ourselves a tiny sigh of relief that the game didn't go into overtime; Nashville earned a point tonight against Phoenix (who won in the 11,403th round of a shootout), Dallas beat Minnesota, Colorado beat Columbus, and Los Angeles topped the Rangers. The standings are so ridiculously tight right now--every little bit counts. The Wings now have 64 points (tied with the Preds). Tomorrow night, we play the delightfully disgusting Anaheim Ducks, who are not far behind us with 59 icky points. We don't need to be reminded of how crucial another regulation win tomorrow is. Let's go, Wings.

Wings @ Sharks tonight.

If you needed any incentive to stay up tonight to catch the game, here goes:

1. The triumphant return of Homer(!!!), for sure this time. (And just how appropriate is it that he returns on Groundhog Day?)

2. This is probably going to happen (seriously, so kickass):



Per the norm, there are all kinds of reasons to be slightly annoyed with the San Jose Sharks. They're currently first place in the Western Conference. Patrick Marleau (him?) is tied with Sidney Crosby for most goals scored league-wide at 37 each. Joe Thornton is fourth in the league in points (68). Evgeni Nabokov is third in the league in save percentage, GAA, and wins. None of this should be truly surprising since San Jose often sits atop or very near to the top of the Western Conference.

When we here at TSO look at teams beforehand, usually we say something earth-shatteringly deep like, "Oh, a win tonight would really help us gain momentum at the beginning of this road trip," or "Wow, at this point in the season, beating a top team like the Sharks on their home ice would feel better than sex," or "Let's go ahead and solidify our place at the bottom of the pack that's still good enough to go to the playoffs with a win."

Bleh. Obviously, all those things are still true (except the sex part...I reserve that reaction for Wings' wins against teams I actually make an effort to loathe), but the Wings' loss against the Pens this weekend left a bitter taste in my mouth. The offensive effort was there--but only during the final twenty minutes of the game. In fact, I'd worked on one of our live blog recaps during the game, only to give it up during the second intermission because I was completely disgusted with the team's performance against Shittsburgh, and I just couldn't find the words. (Instead, we went out for Mexican food and margaritas after the game. I poured one out for all equally distraught TSO readers. WIN!)

The Wings can't afford to do that against tough opponents, including tonight (despite having a good track record against San Jose--the last game against them, on January 9th, resulted in a 4-1 win for us). It's common sense: When you allow offensive powerhouses to hang out in your own zone for the better part of 40 minutes and pepper your goaltender with 40+ shots by the end of the game, at least one of them is bound to make its way into the net, even if it's a result of a shitty bounce or rebound that Howard has no chance to stop. With the Wings' lack of offensive production leading to losses being decided by one- or two-point games, it's certainly a recipe for disaster.

So what's it going to be tonight? The Wings have to come out, guns blazing, to defeat San Jose, and then they have to keep on trucking until sixty minutes have elapsed. If I see another half-hearted effort for any major portion of the game, whether it's an attempt to come from behind to score (no, not the shocker) or letting their foot off the gas after building a one- or two-goal lead, I'll be dead by sunup.

Jesus frowns upon your SPORT.

Who knew?

For our everlasting souls' sakes, it sure is a fantastic thing we have the good folks at Westboro Baptist Church to give us the 411 on God's hate list.

Best known for picketing the funerals of anybody they deem to be ruining our country (read: they even picketed Jerry Falwell's funeral, in addition to protesting the motley crew including, but not limited to, U.S. Holocaust Museum, Lady Gaga, the Academy Awards, the entire nation of Italy, Twitter, and the funerals of fallen soldiers), they've really outdone themselves this time.

Yesterday, they took to the Stars/Coyotes game to really stick it to those godless heathens on the ice and in the stands:

God H8s Ur hockey! Valor Pl. & Olive St. WBC will picket your stupid, cold (you will truly pray for these days of being in the cold hockey games when you burn in hell for eternity) violent, time-wasting hockey game - your SPORT. You know there will be only a few more of these entertainment events before God lets Obama simply destroy this nation. God does not have anything good to say about your sport(s).

Whoa, somebody just overdosed on H8rade. (Ziiiiiiiiiiiing!)

Yikes, apparently they're anti-Sunbelt, too:

God Hates DOOMED america, God Hates Arizona, God Hates Florida. You are all going to hell, and there is nothing to do but hear the words, hate the words, get mad at the words - - then get more words.

In yo' face, Bettman!

My thoughts are muddled. After all, for all the things I could possibly be sent to hell for...

Also, I guess I have to throw this away now. Thanks a lot, WBC:


At least now we know why hell is spelled h-e-DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS.