Ahead of tonight’s Caps vs. Avs game, another in a series of
copyright violations crossposts from our pals at Russian Machine. Today’s added bonus, Avs intel from our friend Michael, #24 on the ice, but #1 in our hearts, a center on the GForce team. Oh, some Allen Ginsberg, too. Beat hockey, crazy man, crazy. For the full post, go here.
The Puck Drop: Caps fans and booze-hounds, rejoice! We proudly announce this season’s newest, bestest, most assured to get you F’d up cocktail! The Rockin’ Red Flame Out!
Directions: Grab some high-priced this, pretend to add some top-shelf that, splash with vaguely European liquor, shred ice, and shake! Mix! Toss about round n’ round! Throw in a blender and oscillate! Back and forth, back and forth, up and down, over and over and over again! That’s the spirit!
Drink and regret. Clean out your blender from top to bottom (well, don’t go nuts) and repeat. Mmm…now that’s satisfaction.
Here’s the deal. I can’t believe I’m writing this yet again. For weeks I’ve been thinking about what to say about Denver – the team, the city, the doped-out state of mind. How Denver is nothing of the above: at the end of the prairie but not quite prairie, near the lip of the mountains but not in the mountains.
Neither East nor West, North or South. The Hollow-Man City; the place that everyone forgets… or tries to. The cosmic rendezvous at the event horizon; the bong-water swamp where memory ends.
In short, the Vortex Sutra of All That Is and Nothing That Isn’t. The confused, abandoned, cardboard bastard child of America. And yet – we stink. Almost exactly half the time. Meaning all the mean things I said about Denver? They’re still half-true, but we’ve got no room to swagger. Not despite, but precisely because of the last game.