Man that Bobby Scribe is so fucking depressing. Oh wait, it’s so sutting depressing, right? Maybe so fucking sutting fits best. All this sutting Sutter shit is gonna give me a stutter. Anyways, I take a few days off to collect my thoughts and get in the holiday spirit and I come back to a stream of malaise and doldrums bordering on the suicidal.

From existential crises to forlornness aligned with Mike Babcock quotes, the typical rah rah spirit this site has prided itself on instilling has quickly been poisoned. It’s like we had gorgeous big breasted cheerleaders bouncing up and down, only someone came along with a bobby pin (pun very much intended), started poking holes and now silicon is leaking all over the place. But back to Babcock, between Scribe’s reverence of his quotes and a demand for Carlyle, is anyone else worried that Bobby has such an affinity towards former Duck coaches? I suppose one can only live in Orange County for so long without it rubbing off on you.

But what am I saying? This post is about positivity and what better way to get off on a positive foot than to be negative about those who aren’t positive.

Where do the Kings stand?

4th in the division.
Tied for 10th in the Conference.
22nd in the league.
Coming off our worst game of the season.
About to play our last game before the era of Sutter begins.

Pretty sour. But then again…

Dustin Penner is playing his best hockey as a King.
Mike Richards is approaching his return to game ice.
The leadership group is about to be read the riot act.
Those doldrums that have seeped from the team’s psyche and into Scribe’s are about to be snuffed out with fire and brimstone.

Meanwhile, fuck Toronto. Right? No, not sutt them. Fuck them. Do you think this team is going to deliver two performances worthy of banishment from the NHL in a row? I don’t.

What self respecting Kings fan doesn’t believe every upcoming game is going to be their best yet? A realist? Perhaps. But realists don’t scream until they can’t speak for a week because realistically, that’s a sutting stupid thing to do. Realists don’t skip important things they have to do, like birthdays or homework or at times even jobs, just to drive down to Staples and watch 20 guys with the combined IQ of 6 college graduates smack a piece of rubber at a guy dressed in more padding than there is in the safety systems of our cars. A realist would just stay home and organize his receipts for the upcoming tax season. Realism is mother sutting boring.

We are Kings fans and if we have lasted this long then we can certainly look at a disgrace of the aesthetic genome like Darryl Fucking Sutter and see that he just may rally this group of disjointed underperformers into something that resembles an NHL level hockey team. We can dismiss our desire for a team that plays offense like the Harlem Globetrotters and embrace a team that demolishes and disheartens it’s opposition as the crags of Ephel Duath thwarted the armies of men or the Wall of the North protected against Others or the goddamn brick house withstood all the huffing and puffing of that asshole wolf and saved every last hair on that stupid pigs chinny sutting chin.

Yes I’m a dork and yes I’m a raving lunatic and for fucking sutt’s sake I’m a sutting fucker Kings fan.

This team has plenty of opportunity to succeed. Plenty of talent. Heads have been removed from asses before. Our top six scoring and playing a tight defense first system are not mutually exclusive. One patient bullet in the skull can take down the asshole with a machine gun. An arrow in the missing scale of Smaug’s ugly belly. A rock between Goliath’s eyes. A Kyle Clifford that commands fear. An Anze Kopitar that breaks the spirit of offensive attacks against as well as he compels them upon his enemy. A Williams and Gagne that don’t need to be big and bad because a Brown and a Richards clear them paths like a hound through herds of sheep. A Quick and a Bernier who provide a last line of defense that is called upon less and less as the war wages and the opposition tires. A dressing room that snarls at defeat as Darryl Sutter’s visage laughs at the suggestion of Aphrodite.

Bobby Scribe dared to ask the self loathing question, do we matter to the LA Kings?

I dare to ask another, do the LA Kings matter to you?

If you are brazen enough to answer in the affirmative, discard your lofty notions that you know better. Dismiss your sarcasm that merely masks your pain. Embrace fear and crush it under your will. Exude the confidence you demand from your team. Gouge eyes that would care to roll. Scream in your damn living as you watch tonight. Show up Thursday without cautious optimism that is ready to snap at a moment’s despair. Command your love, your passion, your respect and your unrealistic stubbornness that this game will be the game where the world is beaten.

Be a fan, for Sutt’s sake and Go Kings Go!