Hit Somebody: 2010 NHL Playoffs Preview

Ed. Note: Reader Matthew asked if he could guest blog and I obliged.

If you're from Pittsburgh and it's April, you know two things are about to the happen: 1. The Pirates bullpen is about to send us to the basement of the league again and 2. Penguins playoff hockey is about to begin.

I know about 80% of the country is thinking "Pshh! Who cares about hockey?," but give the playoffs a try. If you thought the USA vs. Canada gold medal game was intense, just imagine the intensity of a best-of-7 series. Overtime games feel like watching that scene in Boogie Nights where they try and sell the fake cocaine and the guy in the corner is setting off fireworks. Every turnover, every shot, takes about 20 years off of your life.

Eastern Conference
(East Coast – The BEST Coast!)

#1 Washington Capitals vs. #8 Montréal Canadiens
Caps are the Presidents' Trophy winners this year for finishing the regular season with the most points. They also have some player named Alexander Ovechkin, whose wrist shot has a chance of ripping a goalie's glove hand clean off. Montréal's hope lies in Jaroslav Halak, who was the goaltender for 4th place finisher Slovakia at the Olympics. Halak will need to have the series of his life if the Canadiens hope to shock the red of Washington.

Ovechkin on Halak: I must break you.

Random Thought: It would have been great if the prisoners in Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky had to play a hockey game.

#2 New Jersey Devils vs. #7 Philadelphia Flyers
NJ will depend on future Hall of Famer Martin Brodeur, while Philly will depend on Brian Boucher, who helped the Flyers make the playoffs.

The two goalies faced each other in 2000, where they took the series to seven games. For Philly to have a chance, Brodeur will need to repeat his past, screwing up when it really matters (a.k.a. the USA vs. Canada round robin game).

#3 Buffalo Sabres vs. #6 Boston Bruins
This is one of three must-watch series during the opening round of the playoffs. Last year, the B's were the top seed and highest scoring team in the league. This year, they ranked near the bottom in scoring and limped their way into the playoffs. Sabres are my wildcard pick to make it to the finals, but it will all depend on the man who almost carried Team USA to the gold – Ryan Miller.

You better get mad, kid: Ryan Miller went into the Olympics not looking so hot, but somehow rose to the occasion. If he has the same attitude in the playoffs, it's going to be MILLER TIME.

#4 Pittsburgh Penguins vs. #5 Ottawa Senators
Out of four games, they split two apiece. Scores ranged from 4-1 to 8-2. So each game is either going to be a blowout or 2-1. I think this is a good opening round matchup for the Pens, but I also thought we would walk through the Islanders in 1993, and that didn't turn out too great. Don't take the Senators lightly. They know they're facing the defending champs and they'd love the bragging rights of knocking them out of the playoffs.

Western Conference
(I knew she was from the west coast or the best coast like she'd say)

#1 San Jose Sharks vs. #8 Colorado Avalanche
Sharks are once again the best in the west, while the Avalanche are a young team looking to make up for dwelling in the basement the past few seasons. Sharks have the scoring, but bad penalties and Nabokov's goaltending could be their downfall.

No really, it was just a boating accident: The Sharks have been the best team in the west before, only to slowly collapse during the playoffs.

#2 Chicago Blackhawks vs. #7 Nashville Predators
Chicago has everything – scoring, defense – and once again, Marian Hossa finds himself playing for a Stanley Cup contender.

I really want to like the Predators, but I just don't see them knocking Chicago out. They once took the Red Wings to seven games, though, so this series could be interesting.

#3 Vancouver Canucks vs. #6 Los Angeles Kings
The second must-watch series of the playoffs. The atmosphere in Vancouver during the Olympic hockey games was electric, but during the playoffs, it's going to be insane. Yeah, a gold medal is great, but these people want The Cup. Will Roberto LUUUongo be clutch like he was for Team Canada?

You come at the king, you best not miss: The Kings are very dangerous team, especially since they have this defenseman Rob Scuderi, who was a hero for the Pens during the 2009 playoffs. You may remember him from this play:

#4 Phoenix Coyotes vs. #5 Detroit Red Wings
Series number three on your must-watch list. The Red Wings are playing some unreal hockey going into the playoffs – what else is new? The Coyotes, on the other hand, are back in the playoffs for the first time since 2002. They filed for bankruptcy earlier in the year – even Wayne Gretzky gave up on them. Maybe an Us vs. the World mentality is what they need to actually beat Hockey Town.

Guest Blogger: Asher Roth

Yo yo! Asher here. You may remember my hit song "I Love College." Well, college isn't the only thing I love.

If you have a drink, would you please put it in the air?


That TV series was awfully crazy, I wish I taped it
Now you can follow the characters as they're escapin'
Drink my beer and smoke my weed, but my PlayStation's all I need
Pass out at 3, wake up at 10, go out to eat, then play it again
Man, I love Prison Break: The Conspiracy!


I wanna play this game for the rest of my life
Befriend Abruzzi by fetching him a knife
Find an empty cupboard in which to hide
Earn cash for tats in underground fights

So pop in the disc, let's boot it up
Two-player versus mode, who want what?
I am king of kings at escaping
Alonzo Mourning, Patrick Ewing…


I made a three volume Kenny Powers themed mix
Sorrows of a Coddled Rock Band: Jonathan Fire-Eater Burns Out

Guest Blogger: Daniel Faraday

George Carlin, RIP

I don't have many heroes, but George Carlin is one of them.

When I first watched Jammin' in New York, his 1992 HBO special, I was instantly infected with his love of language and artfully crafted rants.

Even though he presented himself as an apolitical grump with "major psychotic" hatred for everyone and everything around him, I always picked up on an underlying set of morals and principles.

Carlin liked to repeat this expression, when asked to explain his work: "Scratch any cynic, and underneath you'll find a disappointed idealist." This resonates with me in ways that I'm still realizing. Anytime I become too cynical, I try to remind myself that it's only my idealism crying out.

To me, George Carlin was a political and cultural agitator masked as a comedian. And that's something I've always admired and often tried to emulate.

I didn't always agree with what he said and, sometimes, I was downright offended. But I loved the way he crafted it together. His work was poetry.

I miss him already.

This video is incredible. One guy dances a silly dance with people all over the world.

download the new Girl Talk album
Shaq: "Kobe… Tell me how my ass tastes!"
Blizzard Website Teasing Diablo III?

Guest Post

Colin / website

Let us look at the facts:
— in 2029 on the eve of losing the war, the machines send a T-800 to 1984, a T-1000 to 1992, and a T-X to 2003
— subsequently, John Connor and the humans, having intercepted ALL of this information somehow, send Kyle Reese (John's father) to 1984, a T-800 to 1992, and a T-800 to 2003

Now, James Cameron originally envisioned a scene in T2 where we see Kyle being sent to 1984 and then John Connor (JC…hey, wait a minute…) about to activate the protecting Terminator of T2. So there's production art where we see a long hallway of inactive T-800s (which would have been a cool effect in 1992). Regardless of this unused scene, you have to figure that if John Connor had two T-800s at his disposal, he had three (or four or five…). They could have sent TWO Terminators to protect John in 1992. They could have sent Kyle Reese AND a Terminator to protect Sarah Connor in 1984 since she was the most vulnerable then. Hell, if the 2029 John Connor knew that the machines sent advanced prototypes to kill his younger self, he could have sent multiple Arnolds to protect him in 2003 — or maybe a 24-7 Terminator bodyguard to hang around years before.

Linda Hamilton is not in T3. In 2003, Sarah Connor is dead. Or is she? In the special edition of T2, we see her in 2029, playing with her grandchildren in a peaceful futuristic Washington DC. Uh-huh. Apparently this is completely ignored in the new movie. Maybe she faked her death and went underground. But that makes no sense as we know she was obsessively set on protecting John.

These are things that need to be considered when making a sequel, especially when everything was *seemingly* wrapped up 11 years ago.

By the way, the Terminator "theory" of time travel works on a different theory than what we see in Back to the Future — which is why John Connor does not disappear at the end of T2.

oh. my. slanted-eyed surprise.

guest poster: ty camp of funkyfresh.net fame

Adolescence — half my waking life spent locked behind the bathroom door. Through a world of matted handkerchiefs and crumpled Kleenex and stained pajamas, I move my raw and swollen penis, perpetually in dread that my loathsomeness will be discovered by someone stealing upon me just as I am in the frenzy of dropping my load. Nevertheless, I am wholly incapable of keeping my paws from my dong once it starts the climb up my belly. In the middle of a class I will raise a hand to be excused, rush down the corridor to the lavatory, and with ten or fifteen savage strokes, beat off standing up in a urinal. At the movies I will leave my friends to go off to the candy counter — and wind up in a distant seat, squirting my seed into the empty wrapper of a Mounds bar. On an outing of our family association, I once cored an apple, saw to my astonishment (and with the aid of my obsession) what it looked like, and ran off into the woods to fall upon the orifice of the fruit, pretending that the cool and mealy hole was actually between the legs of the mythical being who always called me Big Boy when she pleaded for what no girl in all recorded history had ever had. "Oh shove it in me, Big Boy," cried the cored apple that I banged silly on that picnic. "Big Boy, Big Boy, oh give me all you've got," begged the empty milk bottle that I kept hidden in our storage bin in the basement, to drive wild after school with my vaselined upright. "Come, Big Boy, come," screamed the maddened piece of liver that, in my own insanity, I bought one afternoon at a butcher shop and, believe it or not, violated behind a billboard on the way to a bar mitzvah.

It was the end of seventh grade that I discovered on the underside of my penis, just where the shaft meets the head, a little discolored dot that has since been diagnosed as a freckle. Cancer. I had given myself cancer. All that pulling and tugging at my own flesh, all that friction, had given me an incurable disease. And not yet fourteen! In bed at night the tears rolled from my eyes. "No!" I sobbed. "I don't want to die! Please — no!" But then, because I would very shortly be a corpse anyway, I went ahead as usual and jerked off into a sock. I had taken to carrying dirty socks into bed with me at night so as to be able to use one as a receptacle upon retiring, and the other upon awakening.

I remember how my mother taught me to piss standing up! Listen, this may well be the piece of information we've been waiting for, the key to what determined my character, what causes me to be living in this predicament, torn by desires that are repugnant to my conscience, and a conscience repugnant to my desires. Here is how I learned to pee into the bowl like a big man. Just listen to this!

I stand over the circle of water, my baby's weeny jutting cutely forth, while my momma sits beside the toilet on the rim of the bathtub, one hand controlling the tap of the tub (from which a trickle runs that I am supposed to imitate) and her other hand tickling the underside of my prick. I repeat: tickling my prickling! I guess she thinks that's how to get stuff to come out of the front of that thing, and let me tell you, the lady is right. "Make a nice sis, Tyler, make a nice little sissy for Mommy," sings Mommy to me, while in actuality what I am standing there making with her hand on my prong is in all probability my future! Imagine! The ludicrousness! A man's character is being forged, a destiny being shaped…oh, maybe not…

Did I mention that when I was fifteen I took it out of my pants and whacked off on the 107 bus from New York?

The bus, the bus, what intervened on the bus to prevent me from coming all over the sleeping girl's arm — I don't know. Common sense, you think? Common decency? My right mind, as they say, coming to the fore? Well, where is this right mind on that afternoon I came home from school to find my mother out of the house, and our refrigerator stocked with a big purplish piece of raw liver? I believe that I have already confessed to the piece of liver that I bought in a butcher shop and banged behind a billboard on the way to a bar mitzvah. Well, I wish to make a clean breast of it, Your Holiness. That — she — it — wasn't my first piece. My first piece I had in the privacy of my own home, rolled round my cock in the bathroom at three-thirty — and then had again on the end of a fork, at five-thirty, along with the other members of that poor innocent family of mine.

So. Now you know the worst thing I have ever done. I fucked my own family's dinner.

Merry Christmas.


Greetings from San Griego

Heyo. Brian has h4x0red the site. I got a game for y'all.

Green tea ice cream and wasabi (sushi's horseradish) are similarly weird, moldable, and the same shade of green, which make them perfect candidates for this party game: One person sits with a scoop of wasabi, the other with a scoop of ice cream – nobody in the party knows which scoop is which. The two players each take a bite of their "dessert" and act like it's yummy, even though one player has a mouth full of fire. The rest of the party has to guess who really got stuck with the green inferno.

Black girls rule. Whoo! Later.