deliver us through the darkness


The giant ice sculpture of the armadillo goes to the left, next to the shrine to Crosby’s ass.
We’re throwing away all of Max Talbot’s speeding tickets that we found stuffed in the filing cabinet.
We’re building a magical mirror to Zbynek Michalek’s soul, through which the viewer only sees rainbows and ice cream.
We’re baking thousands of gluten-free brownies, and possibly actually doing something important.

The Pens are at camp. We had season ticket deliveries. Every city (worth speaking of) is teeming with hockey folks and a chill is on the air.

Pens Report is back shoving a giant fucking Arcade Fire video down our throats like so many dicks.
OH, HOLY SHIT, HOCKEY IS COMING.

Here’s the details on Crosby, who won’t be taking contact.

We realize that we have to blog again and make contact for you guys to like us. You’re not just going to drop into the comments and start talking about your Views on the Universe with us without getting a little in return.

Rest assured, we are not an absent boyfriend who leaves a trail of broken promises all the way to the bar.
Well, maybe we kind of are.

But, unlike the absent boyfriend, things will be different this time.

Now, put down the unicorn statue where it belongs and get to work.


Have you ever seen more determination and seriousness?

Go Pens.

Zoë

About Zoë

from Fayette County, living in Boston, chronically fussy. every Penguins season is like Amundsen vs. Scott in my head.

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