September 07 2012 09:22AM
Oh man, I am so excited about this feature. There is nothing I like more than railing against those who we deem have wronged our Calgary Flames. A good text based hate hucking is going to make us all feel better about the current labour unrest, the Flames' stumble into mediocrity, and whatever crazy thing Michael Ferland is about to do next, trust me.
Now you'd think, this being a hockey blog and whatnot, that we would call this feature "Two Minutes For Hate", in which those we loathe would have their sins recapped and would be forced to sit in the penalty box, but this hardly seems like fair retribution. No, we feel that our chosen tribute to Orwellian brainwashing and surveillance tactics are far more necessary, not that we here at Flames Nation would EVER try any of these mind control schemes on you, our noble reader.
Seriously though, we are watching you.
September 04 2012 09:20AM
Oh, hey guys, it's me, The Book of Loob. BoL. Loober.
Nancy. If you're at all familiar with my work, you know that when it comes to things like Corsi, PDO, Zone starts, QualComp and the like, I've almost learned what some of them are. So while the Kents and the Azevedos of the world will give you fancy numbers as to why Anton Babchuk is not a very good player, I'm just going to say he is just the absolute worst and it's probably because his mother didn't love him enough. Or because he has a debilitating addiction to Beanie Babies that garners all his attention away from learning how to position himself in his own end.
(I have no proof of either of those claims, but I'm still saying they're true, and you can take that to the bank)
These 100% verifiable facts and more are the next level fluff I bring to the table here at The Nation, and is the basis for what we'll be talking about here today. So gather round, children, and let your ol' Gampy tell you a tale! This potboiler is called "Your Calgary Flames And The Quest To Remember". It's a giddy romp featuring a beskated pack of scamps, intrepid young men (er...young?) who toil day and night, I guess, atop a frozen surface when their corporate overlords deem it to be acceptable through the terms laid out by a needlessly complicated Collective Bargaining Agreement. Armed with nothing but hockey sticks, pucks, pads, helmets, skates, shin pads, a mile of tape, agents, and millions of dollars, the Flames set out to remember their identity, the id of their hockey team, or, failing that, forge a shiny new one.
It will be riveting.