O BROWNIE, BROWNIE, WHEREFORE ART THOU BROWNIE?

Deny thy Kings and refuse thy C
Or if thou wilt not, then be with me
A Captain thou art and a Captain thou be
We need our Dustin immediately

Dustin: Shall I do more and what shall that be? To score more goals or hit the enemy?

Score more goals, we need from thee
Hit all that moves who is the enemy
Thou art thyself, though not this game
Not this, not last, nor recently

Dustin: No skate, no stride, no powerful means. Lost I look in the offensive scheme?

Lost thou looks on offense and D
Thou must remedy this most urgently



Categories: L.A. Kings News

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6 replies

  1. Zad, send me some of the stuff you’re smoking, it looks pretty good

  2. This isn’t an herb you can pick, and smoke. Zad’s genius is his own.

  3. Wouldn’t quoting from Whitman’s ode to a fallen Lincoln have been sufficient? Hell, I’ll do it…

    Walt Whitman (1819–1892).
    Leaves of Grass. 1900.

    O Captain! My Captain!

    O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
    The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
    The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
    While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
    But O heart! heart! heart!
    O the bleeding drops of red,
    Where on the deck my Captain lies,
    Fallen cold and dead.

    O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
    Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
    For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
    For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
    Here Captain! dear father!
    This arm beneath your head;
    It is some dream that on the deck,
    You’ve fallen cold and dead.

    My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
    My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
    The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
    From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
    Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
    But I, with mournful tread,
    Walk the deck my Captain lies,
    Fallen cold and dead.

    LAKINGSNEWS.Com — a literary blog of passionate poetry about…..puck!

    OK, so Whitman lacks a bit of the optimism you possess. And, our trip is only about 1/2 done. But c’mon, for all we’ve seen this year, there has been neither poetry in the play, nor prose in the leadership voice of Brown. The “C” on his sweater lies cold upon the deck.

    All the rest of you commenters are to prepare an essay comparing and contrasting the styles of Whitman, Scribe, and Surley and their impacts on post-modern literary hockey criticism. Submissions are due by Sunday. Failure to complete this assignment will result in an “F” on your transcript and permanent records.

    Gawd, I really did spend way to much f’ing time in school….shit, I studied economics, where did this stuff come from?

    Poetic, Verbose, and Confued,

    VJ

  4. I hope not to put up a long winded quote from either Milton or Dante Alighieri on 4/10/11….

    But, I fear that prospect is a near and present danger.

    VJ

  5. That the leadership from Dustin Brown has been lacking is hardly worth arguing, but let’s face it, he will undoubtedly wear the “C” until the season’s conclusion, whenever that will be. I think the prospect of him returning as captain next season are remote. By then, it will most likely be Anze Kopitar who will be O Captain, my Captain. And perhaps under a new coach as well!

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