Actually, that's a lie because we talked about our Killer on the Road. And if that big bastard comes back during this playoff run, we might trot it out again.

But for now, we're together on a thin raft, floating down a beery river toward a land where hockey doesn't belong and where the Pharoa died.

We need at least one in ridiculous Anaheim. Game 1 would be preferable, but we'll take 2 if its offered. Give us both and it will be on whore-style.

So here we go, into the breach once more. We'll do nothing to influence a damn thing but what's done will influence us all to an extent that it's indecipherable to anyone but us and the pets we sacrifice. Kiss your spouses on their lips. Kiss your bosses on their asses. Protect your children. Warn your neighbors and ask baby Jesus to forgive us for the deals we make when we promise we'll exchange anything for just...one...goal.

It's a Live Blog, you bitches. It's on. Again.