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injure yourself spiritually until the pain stops having meaning

Hey, so, if you’re reading this, you already know what happened, and we’d hate to take you deep on that journey again.  The journey from cautious optimism to rage to disappointment.

Through the standard four games, the series has lived and died by the 4-3 score.  The team that led 3-1 ended up losing the game.  All four of the games.  Columbus’s two wins have come in OT, which either means that they’re scraping harder at the bottom of the barrel to get by, or that the Penguins are failing more spectacularly.  Probably both.

Anyway, last night, Brandon Dubinsky cemented his villain status by scoring his first goal of the playoffs at 19:36 of the third period.  24 fucking seconds was all we needed, but MAF made a horrible mistake by coming out to play the puck for some unknown reason.  It bounced in front of the net and no one could stop the Dubinsky bullet train from crashing into our feelings of personal safety.

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Let’s talk about OT, then, since we’re already there.  Hey, where did Nick Foligno score his game winning goal from?

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oh

Note the small blur, that’s the puck on its way to Hell.  My screenshot capabilities are great.  For those of you who didn’t bring your measuring tape, that’s about 40ft.  40ft of rope to hang ourselves with, as a family.

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Jackets fans are unreal right now.  Standing during OT.  They are basically the soldiers of Rohan during the battle of Pelennor Fields.  We should have known we were fucked as soon as it was 3-2.  Still.  24 seconds.

Each game has had the exact same arc.  One team surges ahead on the strength of their own ball sweat and then gets tired and goes to buy a blunt wrap at the corner store before settling in for the evening.  Suddenly, there are noises on the fire escape.  How can this be?

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don’t pick up the phone.

the call is coming from inside the house.

Foligno’s crotch is a black hole in which we can see all of our ethical misdeeds, traced back over a course of centuries.  We can hear generations of children screaming.  We can hear drums, horrible satanic drums.

Anyway.  The Pens blew it.  MAF really blew it.  He played very well the rest of the game which makes this all the more disturbing.  Looks like his brass balls swagger is probably over for awhile.  They can get back on the horse on Saturday, because they’re professionals, but we’re never sure that these emotions can be overcome.  This Penguins team really isn’t very tough.  The last couple months of the season is really just a blur of inadequacy and haunted stares.

Further discussion of the playoffs resumes tomorrow, we will try to get our minds right before the weekend.

Ryan Whitney with the existential question of the night:

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we realize that this is taken out of context, because his next tweet was “not out there killing the 5 on 3 with Orpik” but really these words probably emerged fully formed from the singularity, in which an angry god is carving Rob Scuderi’s Corsi stats game by game into the forearm of an angel with a gilded blade.

hey, go pens, or something

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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