Dreamtime

So I had me a dream last night. Perhaps inspired by all that ML the K Day talk and all – but that guy had a pipe dream of equality of all men – I just had one of my typical way out there dreams. So siddown, gentle reader, and put on yer seatbelts for this one.

So there I was, rollerblading around ShopRite. I’ve had this dream before. But this one was nice – there was a sale on pizza. A HUGE sale on pizza. There was all kinds around. Round, square, long, short, thick, thin, and toppings of every color and taste. These pizzas were just about everywhere. And that was me, zipping around checking out all the pies that I knew I needed, man.
Lo and behold – something was going down. I was alone in that supermarket of pizza. Somehow a hockey game broke out – USA vs Russia, wearing the same uniforms as back in ’80 in Lake Placid. It was brutal. Guys were all over the place, and the score was tied up one apiece. From outta nowhere, a shot came flying by and nailed the USA goalie in the side of the head. Our goal was in the bread aisle. The shot came right down and after a super quick action – it was in the net. They waved it off at first, but after the review on the Dexter Deli order monitor, the goal had to stand. Damn. It was cool – the shot came down and bounced off the dude’s skate, but a quick slap of the stick put the puck homewards – not the skate. The Russky didn’t have much time to do this before our D came and plowed him into the Entenmann’s rack. Normally I would say great play but I was pissed since hey – who wants the commies to win?
I woke up just about after that with the alarm clock being the final buzzer. This wasn’t too messed up in that I don’t need any dream therapist or some freakin Technicolor Dreamcoat to figure out what’s up in me brainbone. I can break this down into a few key points.
1. we all need more pizza. Preferably with meat products on them.
2. I spend too much time at ShopRite.
3. I freaking MISS good hockey.

Let’s get this straight too. I miss GOOD hockey – not necessarily the NHL. Shit – I would pay money to rewatch some of the SEGA ’94 games we played on juiced up Wednesday evenings in Piscataway. There is something inherently wrong with it being January and no talk about the All-Star break and who would’ve won the 8-goal club pool. I’m stepping up here and telling you that Bettman had better take a page outta the ultimate leader’s handbook (a.k.a. Reagan’s memoirs) and flat out FIRE everybody. Unrecognize the player’s union. Go on teevee primetime and rip up whatever contract was in place. Then burn it. Then wiss all over it and laugh as he puts the final shake on the stream.
We need a whole new world. I’m all for management here. I don’t care how much they skim off the top or how much they spend on whatever – but this “union” thing is pure crapola. Fans will complain about ticket prices, and when we stop paying those prices, they will come down, and owners will stop paying inflated salaries. The espNHL had some good ideas, like killing the advertising all over the place. That would drive the owners to scrimp in the right places, like the salaries. Marketing? Let’s get some better coverage on the ice and mic up some of the replacement players. You start recording what comes out of a juiced up Theo Fleury and you can make Tenacious D look like a church choir. I’d tune in for that action in a heartbeat. Oh – the players no like? No soup for you! Out! Next! There will always be somebody who WANTS to play.
Bring on the scabs – there will be some good play soon enough, because those egomainiacs in the nhlpa will eventually come around and realize we really didn’t miss them that much.
Bring on the NASCAR. February 20th – be ready.