Not totally sure where I was ultimately going with last night's slightly tipsy post, but I think we've established: a) European players are a-ok in my book, b) people who rag on European players are dildos, c) I know how to use Blogger's italics function, and d) the Red Wings suck.
Yesterday, I meant to post about a dream I had the other night, in which my old friend Kynan and I had decided to go into business bootlegging Die Kreuzen CDs. Curiously, we were only doing the "October File" album, best known to me because Touch and Go inexplicably sequenced it in front of the amazing first album when they were joined up on a CD.
There's probably an easier way to make your first million than bootlegging Die Kreuzen CDs, so kids, don't do it.
Along with a recent dream that incorporated the Crucifucks, former Syracuse Crunch star L'ubomir Vaic, Dick Cheney, and an Arizona motel, it appears my subconscious has shifted from the morbid to the silly.