I’m disgusted. That last powerplay should be considered Jamie Kompon’s exit interview. Sutter wouldn’t even let him talk to the players during the time out. But anyways, I’m too upset to think or write rationally, so instead here’s a song. Now you have to sing this in your head like Frank Sinatra doing a ballad.


When your girlfriend sighs in bed, Clitsome.
When she goes to sleep instead, Clitsome.

Don’t just blame the girl,
You’re ugly, you make her hurl,
So you can’t forget to Clitsome

When there’s no power to your play, Clitsome.
When she tells you ‘just go away’, Clitsome.

If you think she’s gonna leave,
Take a breath roll up a sleeve
Get yourself some Clitsome.

Theeeere’s no telling what you can do, when you suck some muff like the Blue Jackets do.
Accept that it’s all your fault. Kompon or Tampon, at some point take a vault.

Clitsome. Clitsome. Clitsome.

Soooo you’re having trouble scoring, your game is really boring.
I’ll tell you what I know, you have to outnumber them down low.
If you don’t you’re fucking dumb,
You clearly don’t know to

Clitsome. Clitsome. Clitsome.

She may be defenseless
It don’t matter if your senseless
So buck up and suck in that gut
Give up and love the lil’ peanut.

You’ll never get your beej,
If you don’t know how to please.
So for the last time,


(in a low rumbling voice)

That is some clit.


Moving right along. I guess we could talk about Penner being scratched. Was there ever a reason for that?

Of course this is the only game I didn’t drink any beer.