Okay, maybe it doesn't. I don't know. It doesn't matter. This isn't about reality. This is about the blissfully objective world of sports, where there is a good guy and a bad guy and also a winner and a loser, and a clear, numerical distinction between them. Go, Avs!
Kiernan Maletsky: What the hell is a Wild?
Drew Ailes: A Wild is probably a redneck wolfman with a leather couch. You know, I actually grew up with one of them, Tom Gilbert. Always knew him as one of the kind and decent jocks. Glad he made it, while some of his turd friends probably hold desk-drone spots at Target. What's an Avs? Anti-Virus System?
An Avs must be a migratory bird. The team came from Canada to a state full of transplants. But it sticks. Patrick Roy spent years as the most uncontrollably agitated goalie in hockey, and now he's doing the same thing as a head coach for the same team. Why would you leave Colorado? There's nowhere to go but down.
I remember Roy. He had a hell of a C-button hook in NHL '94 for the Sega Genesis. Also, I have been informed that Tom Gilbert no longer plays for the Wild. THE FASTEST RUNNER IN THE 3RD GRADE.
We have Red Rocks and El Chapultapec, which Jack Kerouac went to, and it isn't even the best jazz club in our city. Whatchu got, huh?
Red rocks? What's that, fake opium? Who cares. We had an all-hours DIY space called the Medusa, which featured black lights and a giant Ozzy Osbourne cutout. It was described by the current drummer of legendary New York hardcore band Madball as looking like the hideout for Shredder and the Foot Soldier Clan. It hosted international acts for seven years while you chumps were chowing down at Casa Bonita.
Why do I mention a now-defunct venue? Because we did it once and we'll just do something like it again. Life sucks here, so we try harder.
Our debate continues on the next page.
Life is fantastic here. We try harder because we're all amped up on sunshine and healthy living. Our adversaries are all rich people who figured out how good life is here, and they give us plenty to fight against. And then it's still sunny outside when we're done with that.
Yeah, well, weed to you, too, man. We don't have that shit, but we do have an ace in the hole: delusional thinking. We don't even need nice weather or luxuries like "good health" to believe we live in the greatest city in the country.
And when Minnesota warms up, it's beautiful -- I mean, after the city cleans up all the mysterious bottles of urine tossed into snowbanks by derelict truck drivers, that is.
So how do you even play an instrument when it is negative-50 degrees for six months of the year, which I assume it is in Minnesota?
We play traditional glockenspiel-type instruments made from icicles. Or we just wear these wacky things called gloves, like Metallica in that video for "King Nothing."
Prince rules. I don't have a question there. I would love to argue about it, but what's the point? Prince rules.
Dude's like a velvet-furred ferret propped upright and crammed into a frilly pirate shirt. And, surprise: He's insane.
Who would win in a fight between zombie John Denver and Prince, if Prince isn't allowed to use his magic?
I think zombie Denver would lose because the undead can't use tools or weapons very well. That, and he'd never actually get close to the Reptilian starship that Prince pilots through the galaxy, steering only with his penis and his steady sense of rhythm.
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