This is pretty sweet.

If you can't see it here, check out The Smoking Gun for the big image.





Thanks to Ben for the find.

Did anybody consider-

-that the Bruins might have picked up Paul Mara and Zdeno Chara this off season mainly because they have the most fun names in the NHL to to yell in a Boston accent?

Say Chara, Frenchy! Say it right! Come back here, I'm not through demeaning you!

By the way, that link should last a week, tops. Enjoy it while you can.

John Buccigross-

-is back in action today over at ESPN.com, and it's good to have him back.

My link over there on the sidebar doesn't seem to get you anywhere, but here's the direct link.

I emailed John back before I started this blog about opportunities to write about hockey, and he was kind enough to email me back, which was a pleasant surprise. He didn't have too much advice other then "start writing," which I certainly knew already, but I did appreciate the response. And I know he's an ESPN guy, which is tantamount to treason for most hockey fans, given the limited coverage and outright scorn the game receives from most of those clowns over at Sportcenter, but if you read his column on a regular basis I think you'll find a smart, thoughtful, humorous dude who really cares about the game and is fighting for all American hockey fans from the belly of the beast.

So I thank him for that.

That's not to say I agree with everything he says, (Gonchar will have a good year? Really?) and as much as he knows about the NHL, which is a great deal, he is sadly misinformed about how much the average hockey fan likes indy rock.

I get it, you have eclectic musical taste. Now stop telling me that the Ottawa Senators are like a Ben Folds Five song.

Christ.

Either way, welcome back John-

Now can you pull some strings and get us a nightly hockey wrapup show again?

Pretty busy today-

So in lieu of a real post, I offer up this Youtube of Steve Carell's hockey sketch from the old Dana Carvey show.



And you know what?

While I'm at it, from the same show, the wonderful "Waiters who are nauseated by food."



Nine days till hockey.

I got nothing today.

Well, almost nothing.

I do have this picture I found on the internet of Martin Luther King playing goal for the Washington Capitals.






Umm,

Yeah.

So- how are you guys today?

I'm not the only one who has noticed this, right?

Boston Bruins Goaltender Hannu Toivonen















The St. Pauli Girl










Wait- hold on.

Crap.

Did I label those wrong?


That's not to say it's a problem, if the Bruins find a goaltender who can maintain a G.A.A. lower than a 2.60 next season, I don't give a fuck if he looks like Mrs. Butterworth's:







The future of the B's














(thanks, Groggie !)





Come to think of it, if I was shopping for a goaltender among the realm of female mascots of corporate food chains, I'd probably start with the Land O'Lakes butter maiden, based on her clear mastery of the butterfly style of goaltending:








Uncanny, no?















Plus, for those of us out there who were dirty perverts in the third grade, we're well aware of the butter maiden's impressive ability to twist both of her knees behind her back, which could come in handy for a goaltender in trouble. And if you don't know what I'm talking about, I congratulate you.

More importantly, Chara's foot is going to be fine.

Just keep repeating that, until it's true.

You got a better plan?

I'm all ears.

My head hurts.

The comedy show went well yesterday night, and me and the lads stayed out late for a drop or five.

So I'll keep this short except to give a tip of the hat to Kukla for linking me up on NHL.com.

For those of you who are new to the site, well, hello, welcome, and feel free to poke around the site a little.

Keep in mind, though, I'm a little hung over today, so not so loud, OK?

A good place to start might be the Tie Domi retirement, a situation I called weeks ago .

We'll miss you Tie.

I'd write more, but my head feels like I just fell into the penalty box with you .

If you're in New York-

-check out Warning Shot Comedy the stand-up showcase I'm hosting tonight that Time Out New York named their "Don't Miss" comedy show.

Of course, if you're not in New York, there are plenty of other options for quality comedy tonight.

Like, say- Dancing with the Stars, which I have written about (read: shit on) before here.

Or, you could check out my pal Chris Deluca's very funny new blog talking about how much this show (and a great many other things) suck:

As he says:

Do you realize you're watching Tucker Carlson dance?

I mean, that's a compelling question, America.

You're actually watching someone who isn't even good at doing the job he is hired to do, doing something that he is even less good at doing.

Be strong America, hockey's only 2 weeks away.

Once again, here's the details for the show:

WARNING SHOT COMEDY
Dillon's
245 W 54th St
(Bway & 8th Ave)
Tuesday, September 19th
8:00 PM
$5 cover + $10 food/drink minimum

"Candle in the Wind" An Interpretive Dance: (Performed by Bill McCreary, Rob Schick, Kerry Fraser, Greg Kimmerly, Pierre Champoux and Paul Stewart.)

Goodbye Norma Jean, Though I never knew you at all-



You had the grace to hold yourself-



While those around you crawled.




They crawled out of the woodwork-




And they whispered into your brain




They set you on the treadmill-



And they made you change your name.



And it seems to me you lived your life-



Like a candle in the wind;



Never knowing who to cling to-



When the rain set in.



And I would have liked to have known you-



But I was just a kid.



Your candle burned out long before-



Your legend ever did.




I say, your candle burned out long before-



Your legend ever di- i- i- i -id.






Music by Elton John
Lyrics by Bernie Taupin
Available on the album Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
© 1973 Dick James Music Limited

Bruins Sign Wacey Rabbit.

You heard me.

Wacey Rabbit .

Whoops-

My bad.

Here's the real story.

Still.

Wow.

I guess I owe Hakan Loob an apology.

Still, I just did a player search, and there is nobody in the NHL with the last name of Cagney, so there goes my letter writing campaign begging the Bruins to complete the "Cagney and Wacey" line. Still, they should have no trouble motivating him, as while I'm not sure what the stick should be, I'm pretty sure about the carrot.

I can't wait until he scores three in a game, and we get to see the articles about pulling a hat out of a Rabbit.

Hockey starts in less than a month, but if you're jonesing to see what the Bruins are gonna look like there's always this .

There's a John Updike joke to be made somewhere here too, but I'll be damned if I know what it is.

This one isn't about hockey.

For those of you who are comedy fans, and live in New York City, I'll be hosting a live, stand-up comedy show next week that I shit you not, will be really, really good.

This is a killer lineup, and will be a lot of fun.

Here's the details:

WARNING SHOT COMEDY
Dillon's
245 W 54th St
(Bway & 8th Ave)
Tuesday, September 19th
8:00 PM
$5 cover + $10 food/drink minimum

Hosted by Ritch Duncan (Writer: Tough Crowd with Colin Quinn, Jest Magazine, American Hockey Fan)
Musical Director: Steve Rosenthal

Featuring:

Christian Finnegan : (Best Week Ever, Chappelle's Show, Comedy Central Presents)
Liam McEneaney: (Premium Blend, Best Week Ever)
Dan Cronin: (Conan O'Brien)
Ophira Eisenberg: (VH1, Premium Blend)
Eric Kirchberger: (Premium Blend)
Amanda Melson (Stand Up Nation with Greg Giraldo)

A reminder of why hockey is the best sport in the world.

So- how long did it take you to get over your excitement over the NFL's opening weekend?

It's five past noon here in New York City, I've watched the opening of both the NFL pregame shows on CBS and Fox, and I'm already bored.

CBS started out with a slick, well produced hype package detailing the offseason moves, including Adam Vinatieri putting on a Colts jersey and (surprise!) Terrell Owens making a funny face. Then they went to that insufferable panel that every sports broadcast feels the need to have in America these days. This one was special because James Brown was hosting, after moving from Fox. Anyway, the big reveal turned out to be that he has moved to CBS to do- wait for it- exactly the same thing he did on Fox!

Not impressed yet?

OK- hold on- this time, JB is chatting with a DIFFERENT panel of braying idiots! Oh, fellas- keep impressing us with your devastating combination of halfassed football analysis along with witty barbs about each other's clothing choices and foibles during your playing days!

So I flipped over to Fox, where things seemed more promising. I was treated to an animated montage, already in progress, of a giant robot in metal shoulder pads smashing through other giant robots and scoring a touchdown before transforming, METALLURG MAGNITOGORSK style, into the logo for Fox NFL Sunday. From there, there it screenwiped into a smooth steadycam shot panning tit-level across a line of about 20 Jacksonville Jaguar cheerleaders.

Now I'm on board.

After all, my affinity for both giant robots and tits is well documented, so I'm sticking with Fox for now.

So we cut to the new analyst, Joe Buck, who is a pretty good baseball guy, you know- if you swing that way, and guess what he's doing?

Chatting with his own panel of braying idiots!

Yes, it's Terry Bradshaw, Howie Long, and Jimmy Johnson, a lineup of entertainment heavyweights whose value can be summed up by the stellar resume highlights Failure to Launch , Firestorm and The Waterboy alone.

I mean, Christ.

I don't mind football, in fact, I'd consider myself a fan, especially when the playoffs roll around, but Jesus, is it that hard to find someone even mildly fucking clever to do the broadcasts?

Apparently, yes.

So instead, I popped in the DVD of the Homecoming episode of the Showtime series Masters of Horror, and was blown away by it. Opinionated, courageous, unflinching and fun, it's political propaganda the way it's supposed to be done- with a horde of angry zombies.

George Romero would be proud.

Plus I got it on Netflix, and Ultimate Gretzky is coming next.

I'm hoping that by "Ultimate," they mean "something other than "watching Wayne's 802nd goal for the motherfucking 802nd time."

Stay tuned for that.

As for me, I'm off to play some hockey.

It's a beautiful day.

After all of this Evgeni Mallkin nonsense-

-no one has seemed to mention perhaps the saddest part of this whole ridiculous story, mainly that he is stepping away from a Russian team with just about the bitchin-est name I've ever heard for a hockey team in my life.

I mean, what the hell is your problem when you no longer want to suit up for METALLURG MAGNITOGORSK?

What do you mean you don't want to play for METALLURG MAGNITOGORSK!?

If you're playing for Metallurg Magnitogorsk, you aren't just a hockey player, you're a legend, a monster, a 60 foot robot striding confidently through the smoldering wreckage of your enemies, crushing with your metal fists everything you didn't eliminate at long range with your fully automatic, shoulder-mounted hellfire missiles.

I just did some internet research, and check out this bio:

For millions of years, METALLURG MAGNITOGORSK has led fanatical legions of evil DECEPTICONS in a single-minded desire for the enslavement of the Universe. It's intellect, ego and talent for deception are second to none, and it rules with an iron-fisted combination of fear and force of personality. Driven by a nearly insane lust for power, METALLURG MAGNITOGORSK managed not only to survive the catastrophic implosion of UNICRON, but absorbed much of his power. Now, wearing salvaged pieces of the ancient destroyer's armor, the awesomely powerful METALLURG MAGNITOGORSK is determined to beat OPTIMUS PRIME and the AUTOBOTS to the lost Planet Keys.

Actually, that's Megatron , but you get my point- you're gonna leave all that to become a "Penguin?"

Somewhere, Ivan Drago is weeping.

Feel better, Dickie.

For those of you who don't know already, Dickie "Digger" Moore, Hockey Hall of Famer, six time Cup winner with the Montreal Canadiens and two time Art Ross trophy winner as the NHL's leading scorer, got roughed up pretty badly when his car was smashed into by a truck.

Apparently, Moore, who is 75 years old, suffered very serious back and neck injuries along with a few broken ribs on Sunday, damage which back in his playing days would have justified sitting out at least the second period, and maybe half the third, if the score wasn't close.

But in all seriousness, I'd like to wish Digger a speedy and safe recovery, and to be assured that he is in the thoughts of thousands of hockey fans.

That said, and my affection and concern for the well being of a seriously injured 75 year-old notwithstanding, it bears mentioning that this incident has done nothing to dilute my passionate hate for the Montreal Canadiens.

Christ, I hate those bastards.

In fact, this unfortunate episode seems to me to be a perfect opportunity for me to examine the depth of my hatred for the Canadiens, something I have never really looked into before. I mean, surely, I hate them, but HOW much?

It seems an odd question.

I mean, does one ever ask "how wet is the water?" or "how livegiving the sun?" Of course one doesn't. It seems foolish to question absolutes such as these- the water is simply wet, the sun is ingenuously lifegiving, and the Montreal Canadiens are black-livered bastards who wouldn't think twice about gutting their own mothers with a crepe knife.

I'll be honest with you.

Hockey's better with a little hate.

That said, there are certain incidents in which the rhetoric can be put aside.

Serious, life-threatening injuries, received either on or off the ice, are nothing that any real hockey fan should ever root for, even in his worst on-ice rival.

Non life-threatening injuries, on the other hand, injuries that a player can recover from without threatening his long term well being or livelihood are all good, no matter how painful they may be in the short term.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, not only do I wish that Dickie Moore has a speedy recovery and a long life, but also that Mike Ribero misses a week of training camp after getting a testicle caught in a set of impact tested accordion shutters.

That's not incompatible, right?

Hey all- sorry for the long absence.

It's been a crazy week, I flew to Florida and back, had a bunch of freelance assignments, and I guess I just figured that the number one priority in my life during the last week of August was not hockey, or a hockey related blog.

Fucked up, I know.

So, did I miss anything exciting?

Did Evgeni Malkin wake up, stretch his legs and maybe decide to play a little golf?!

For Christ's sake people, keep me involved on every little thing about this kid!

I predict he'll have a crappy year. NHL rookies are a hit or miss bunch under normal circumstances, and with rare exceptions (Sid the Kid) huge media pressure and fan expectations does exactly nothing to make them excel.

Plus, I hate the goddamn Penguins, and enjoy rooting for the misery of their fans. Don't get me wrong, I don't want the team to move, that's too much misery. The best case scenario in my mind is that they stay in Pittsburgh and continue to suck, in humiliating fashion.

By the way, if you only read hockey news, you might not be aware that the Penguins aren't the only big operation threatening to move out of Pittsburgh. Apparently, this guy Nelson Peltz, a billionaire investor with a reputation for costcutting (read: gutting) companies has had his sites set on Pittsburgh's Heinz company for quite a while now. From what I've read, if members of his group gain a majority on the board, they claim they won't move the company, but no one buys it. The vote was this week, and they've been stalling the announcement, saying it could take weeks to count all the votes properly.

To quote Nick Braden from Slap Shot:

"When they close the mill, the Chiefs'll fold...These people are gonna be broke. They're not gonna be going to hockey games."

We'll see.

On a brighter note, huge congrats to my pals Chris Regan and Eric Drysdale , who did their best 1980's New York Islanders impression with their fourth emmy win in a row last Sunday for their excellent work as writers on the Daily Show. Drysdale's site, by the way, is where I found the link to the Rick Moranis album from the last post, and is a funny, funny dude, currently working over at the Colbert Report. If you're bored at work, I highly reccomend his "items of some interest," along the right margin, if for no other reason, the sublime Seven Doug Hennings in a Station Wagon.

Happy August, everybody.

Here's something fun-

It's a link to a page that allows you to download the long out-of-print Rick Moranis Comedy album "You, Me, the Music and Me," notable here for the track called "hockey."

I didn't think it was tremendously funny, but then again, I'd never listened to Foster Hewitt, and this seems to be making fun of him.

And there's the difference between America and Canada. Down here, you don't sell a lot of records by hauling out your killer Fred Cusick impression. Which is too damn bad, cause I have a pretty good one.

I can't wait to read his book.

In fact, if he reads the audiobook, I'm preordering right now.

Not sold yet?

Well, according to this teaser in the Boston Globe, Cusick wrote it because he didn't like other hockey books: "(Phil) Esposito's was awful...I could have thrown up reading all that personal stuff."

Christ, I loved that man.

Here's hoping Derek Sanderson does the introduction.

I know where Evgeni Malkin isn't.

Yeah, a lot of hockey people out there are speculating where in the world Evgeni Malkin is, Pittsburgh, Washington, Russia, who knows?

But I can tell you where he definitely is not.

Or wasn't yesterday around 3:30.

Evgeni Malkin definitely was not on 55th street in Manhattan with his arm around Mr. T.

I know this, because I was.


You heard me.














That's Mr. T on the left, there, next to your beaming author.

Evgeni Malkin was nowhere in sight.

I was on the way to meet a friend for coffee, and walked past a hotel on 55th street off Madison, and there, on the red carpet in front of the hotel posing for a photo with three beaming teenage girls, was Mr. T.

I don't really consider myself that impressed by celebrities, you see them every now and then in the city, but I hate to tell you, when you aren't expecting to see Mr. T, and all of a sudden, you are three feet away from Mr. T, well- you stop, you smile, and you tell Mr. T that you are happy to see him. Because you are.

And you know what?

Mr. T is happy to see you as well.

So, yeah- man.

Mr. T.

Sweet.

He didn't seem to be pitying me at all either, which was a good sign.

I'll keep an eye out for Malkin, though.

Keep checking back.

My friend Adam Felber has written a book:

And you all should go out and buy a copy.

Adam grew up on Long Island, was a fan of the Islanders growing up, is a regular performer on NPR, and used to play the keyboards at the late, great Felber's Frolics comedy show on 54th street in Manhattan. He also does a very funny blog about politics along with Daily Show Alums Chris Regan (who is also my pal) and Mo Rocca, (who I was in a movie with once.)

The novel is called "Schrodinger's Ball," and there should be an umlaut over the "o" there, but I still don't know how to do that on blogger, which incidentally, is also the reason I've been delaying my post about playing four-on-four street hockey with the members of Motley Crue.

(That was a lie.)

Insofar as I can tell, the book has nothing to do with the game of hockey in any way, shape or form, which still makes it better than the majority of hockey books available in stores today.

Now go buy it.

I mean, c'mon.

Shouldn't we all be doing something nice for Islanders fans this year?

I mean, if I opened the sports pages about my favorite hockey team, and saw stuff like this, well- I might contemplate writing a comic novel based on a metaphor from the world of quantum physics intended to illustrate the simultaneous potentiality of particle and wave as well.

Oh, and in case that sounds too heady, the metaphor is a dead cat in a box.

Or maybe it's alive.

Get it?

Just read the book, dickheads, there's no hockey till October anyway.

Thanks, Ben!

Well, once again, I ask Ben to step up, and he does- that Jamie MacLennan video was great- still, as an astute anonymous commentor stated, now he's Alex Auld's bitch.

Yeesh.

Still, it's worth bringing up how funny and well produced that segment was- sure it was a little low budget and rough around the edges, but it really worked. The punchlines were funny and it was directed exactly like it should have been, like a late night comedy remote.

As I was thinking about this, I was about to lament that American hockey broadcasts are just never as funny as that, but that's when it occured to me that pretty much all American sports broadcasts are never as funny as that. In this country, the sports broadcaster's idea of comedy, at least on a national level, is still just three guys behind a desk doing this lameass, fratboy whinnying at each other. They sit there like idiots and bray, awkwardly and unskillfully attempting to make fun of each other's clothing or lack of ability when they played the game. Then they force out these honking, billious waves of fake laughter, as though to impress on the viewer that watching the broadcast is just like "sitting around a friend's house, busting balls and watching the game."

Look- if they honestly wanted to replicate the experience of sitting around a buddy's house and watching the game with a bunch of knuckleheads, they not only should never have fired Jimmy the Greek, but they should go one step further. Why not go ahead and hire an abrasive actress (Kathy Griffin anyone?) to walk into the booth with two minutes left in the half and start screaming at the color man.

You know- really letting him know, right at the most important part of the game that just because his slacker, shithead "friends" think that "doing something productive" entails drinking an entire six pack before 3:00 PM, well that doesn't mean that he has to do it. Then after inquiring if his drunkass buddies all jumped off the Empire State Building if he would go along too, she would loudly and aggressively note that the lawn "ain't mowing itself."

Then, as an intro to the halftime show, we'd be treated to the color man out in the blazing sun in his shirtsleeves, hunched over a lawn mower muttering "just THAT much respect is all I ask....Beer. Yeah I'll drink a beer in my own house- just as much as I da*n well please. Think I'm gonna just sit around- Like she's never sat around- HA! Why just wait till she tries just one thing like this again- JUST ONE. Oh ho ho. We. will. see. Yes, indeedy-doo we will. Now where's' that fu&#*in gas can?"

Then they cut to the highlights.

Oh, and one other thing, while I'm talking about comedy segments in sports, particularly hockey, lemme get one thing off my chest:

Hey Denis Leary!

You can stop now.

Seriously, enough already.

I'm a Bruins fan too, dude- but knock it off.

How do you narrow it down to five?

It’s quite an honor to be included in the Five Weird Things mania that’s been sweeping the hockey blog world lately. As a highly infrequent contributor to AHF, I’ve always felt a bit like Jamie McLennan to Ritch’s Roberto Luongo:



I would say the only differences are 1) our relationship is (slightly) less homoerotic, and 2) I didn’t just dream about running Ritch down with a zamboni...I actually got out there and did it.

But having said that, my name IS right there on the “Contributors” list (which I assume is listed not alphabetically, but in order of sheer awesomeness). And hell, I’m as weird as the next guy, as long as the next guy is Ritch, or maybe “Weird Al” Yankovic (new album in stores September 26). So here goes:

Weird Thing #1 - I’m the creator of the online cartoon Unleashed. It follows the trials and tribulations of struggling animal actors in Hollywood, and it’s quite funny according to my mom, who also confirms that I’m the handsomest guy in school. Thanks to the gift of modern technology, it’s now possible for 3 guys to put out 90 seconds worth of freshly animated comedy each and every Monday, on the web, MySpace, YouTube, and iTunes. Check it out…if you don’t laugh, I will cheerfully refund your purchase price (zero dollars, you cheap bastards).

Here, you can even watch the trailer right now:



Weird Thing #2 – Before working with animated dogs, I worked with real ones. For about half a year, I was in charge of booking Stupid Pet Tricks for the Late Show with David Letterman. Was I good at it? You tell me:



It was a fun job, with tons of great perks, but the stress of having to travel the country looking for animals who could do something besides sing along with the radio got to be too much. I think my heart finally broke for good when I flew a giant pig all the way to New York so he could knock down bowling pins on TV...and he didn’t make the cut. (Weird Thing #2A – In addition to working for Letterman, I’ve also worked at Conan and SNL...the New York late night television comedy trifecta).

Weird Thing #3 – In my senior year of high school, I was on the Homecoming Court. That may not seem that weird, but wait until you get to know me a little better.

Weird Thing #4 – I don’t know nearly enough about hockey to be writing on a hockey blog. I love the sport, but the first year I watched it was 2001. Through her job, my wife got offered a pair of seats in a “luxury” box at the Meadowlands to see the Devils home opener against the Islanders that year. The Devs lost 6-4, but I was hooked. I naturally root for underdogs, and in the tri-state area, no one is further under than the Devils. I swear, the frickin’ MetroStars (or Red Bulls or Dodge Stratuses or Dr. Scholl’s Medicated Wart Removers of Soccer or whatever they’re called) get more ink around here. So while I’ve been an avid fan ever since, I’m still learning about the history of the game and finding myself go strangely quiet when someone brings up Toe Blake or Eddie Shore or Boom Boom Geoffrion. Also, I can't skate.

Weird Thing #5 – I almost always run out of steam before I finish things.