Talking shit, Thrash talk later today

Triz is once again gracing us with a little commentary on the Florida Panthers - because there's nothing we love more than making fun of the Florida Kitty Cats. Except shopping, chocolate, and sex. But we're digressing.

From the Miami Herald:

It does not appear that the struggling Florida Panthers are going to turn things around by making deals. Coach and general manager Jacques Martin said he believes in his team, but they need to start playing as a unit before they dig themselves in too deep.

No of course they aren't. Why would it even be inferred that the Panthers would do something intelligent like trade away dead weight *coughgregorycampbellcoughcough* and get a few more players that actually, you know, know how to play professional hockey. As opposed to what the Panthers are currently playing, which is a game I believe is called "Everyone Stand Around Looking Panic Stricken Like It's Our First Time On A Sheet of Ice Until Jokinen Bails Us Out." Occasionally, they will get a little wild and play a couple periods of "Holy Shit Why I Do I Have This Stick In My Hand? Let Me Recklessly Flail It About In Hopes I Do Something Good," and on occasions rarer still, they play a few rounds of "Let's See Who Can Take The Stupider More Ill-Timed Penalty This Period?" which is a game admittedly dominated by, sadly, my beloved Bryan Allen and, of course, Greg Campbell. However, my favorite game by far is a little something they've been playing A LOT of recently, which we like to call, "How Many Creative Ways Can We Come Up With To Completely Implode And Blow This Lead With Mere Minutes Left?" I think when it comes to completely Forrest Gumping your way through a tight thrid period, no one does it in such a spectacularly inept fashion as the Florida Panthers. They are the Old Masters of Failure. In fact, if Failure was an art form, Jacques Martin might very well be its Renoir. It's with an almost balletic grace that his players manage to step on skates and shoot pucks directly into their own net. It's a Opera of Faux Pas, a symphony of inadequacy and he is its maestro. Why they would they want to bring a player in who might actually NOT be a liability every time he jumps over the boards? It would only mess things up.

To all this, honestly, we say bollocks! Mostly because we love saying it. Go on. Say it. We'll wait.

See? Fun, ain't it? Anyhoo. We say bollocks. Or "that's a steamin' crock a'shit," if y'uns is from the south, like we'ns is. Because seriously, I think we all know that if there is any team in this league that is master at snatching defeat from the jaws of victory, it is SE division bedfellow, the Washington Capitals. We have an odd love-hate relationship with the Caps. We love them as individual people, we hate them as a team. We love them on paper, hate them on the ice. However, we will concede to How You Do that no one takes a lazy penalty, or displays magnificent ineptitude, like one Gregory "Yay neoptism!" Campbell.

Further proving our point is the Caps' loss to the Kittens last night. Because, really? Seriously? Ouch. If I was a Caps fan, I'd be sounding the death knell right now. Brian Sutherby was the first casualty of this trainwreck of a season. Many Caps fans are saying, so long and good riddance. We'll admit we haven't really followed the Caps lately, but slamming the door on the ass of the only MVP of the Young Stars game you've ever had, maybe not the wisest plan, particularly when you need a good, strong centre for the two Sashas. But hey, this is why we're not the GM and are just bloggers, right? Those who can do, those who can't play for the Panthers GM the Capitals write.

But on the plus side, we won 3,000 bones last night thanks to Todd White's OT GWG. We may not know much, but we can pick winners. And probably guys to centre hall-of-fame wingers. Just sayin' though.