Crossed Swords

If I need somebody to wear a yellow tuque on a regular basis, I’m calling Patrick Lalime. He does it well, but apparently that ain’t enough. So, either make Enroth the permanent backup and either cut LaLime loose, ship to Portland or do something crazy like play him every third or fourth game to keep Ryan Miller‘s prime from going up in smoke. Yeah, he’s made a couple of interesting choices on the giveway front, but everybody does. Perhaps had he played more, the Sabres as a whole might not completely lose their sense of self when he does start.

Other Icy thoughts:

Why, oh why, are semi-normal adults following the daughters of owner in waiting Terry Pegula on Twitter? That just smacks of too desperate for a brush with greatness or fame. Love all the perks of social media and so forth but there is a line there too and for many they have to look behind them to see it.

I’m not hating the rumored first hire of the Pegula adminstration. Ted Black helped right the ship in Pittsburgh. Hopefully he is your team president and a clean slate of GM relieves Darcy. I think Lindy, if for no other reason than he didn’t want to slip a Jauron like extension past people, should be retained.

I kind of want to see the rumored list of who could be dealt and who shouldn’t be.

With each succeeding hat trick, I’d wager Drew Stafford‘s price at the end of the year is getting higher. Um, Darcy, this would be a good time to step up.

What is it about this year’s New York Islanders that the Sabres keep confusing with the late 70s Montreal Canadiens? It happens every season or so, that there is one team that seems to have their number, but the Islanders?? That ain’t right.

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Psychiatrists vs. Bartenders

EVER SINCE I WAS A CHILD, I’VE ALWAYS HAD A FEAR OF SOMEONE UNDER MY BED AT NIGHT. SO I WENT TO A SHRINK AND TOLD HIM:

‘I’ve got problems. Every time I go to bed I think there’s somebody under it.  I’m scared.  I think I’m going crazy.’

‘Just put yourself in my hands for one year,’ said the shrink. ‘Come talk to me three times a week and we should be able to get rid of those fears..’

‘How much do you charge?’

‘Eighty dollars per visit,’ replied the doctor.

‘I’ll sleep on it,’ I said.

Six months later the doctor met me on the street. ‘Why didn’t you come to see me about those fears you were having?’ he asked.

‘Well, Eighty bucks a visit three times a week for a year is an awful lot of money! A bartender cured me for $10. I was so happy to have saved all that money that I went and bought me a new pickup!’

‘Is that so!’ With a bit of an attitude he said, ‘and how, may I ask, did a bartender cure you?’

‘He told me to cut the legs off the bed! – Ain’t nobody under there now!!!’

FORGET THE SHRINKS..

HAVE A DRINK & TALK TO A BARTENDER!

May your troubles be less, Your blessings be more,
And nothing but happiness come through your door!

Forget You

Oh, Cee-Lo, it was censored and shameless cribbed from an episode of the Muppet Show, but it was the most fun of the otherwise meaningless grammy awards.

Well, except this one