That’s from one of you aboard the KK Members Blog. Animal Drew, one of the 19, wrote that a few weeks ago and I’ve waited for the right time. Well, that time is now motherfu**ers. And that wasn’t the best part of that post.

This was.

...and if you like any team from Chicago, I hate you too.

It’s so simple but it’s so perfectly raw. If you even suspect you might like a team from Chicago? I hate you. If you’re a man and you feel any type of strange arousal when you catch a glimpse of that Ryne Sandberg poster you still have hanging on your bedroom wall? I hate your guts. Not because of some sort of dormant “curiosity”. If that’s how you roll, you know, have at it. I hate you because you’re a fan of the Cubs.

Drew didn’t write that, but he could have and I’d give him full credit. He didn’t write it because he’s too busy hating Chicago. Viscerally (look it up Jimmy). He’s hating them so much that he’s pulled over, rocking back and forth in his car, gritting his teeth and humming the song “Mother” by Danzig even though the song on the radio is “When You’re In Love With A Beautiful Woman” by Dr. Hook.

I don’t think Drew ever hated the Dive the way he hates Chicago. I think he may have claimed to hate him some Poultry, but he really didn’t. Because no one has room in their black souls for more than one kind of hatred when the hatred he has for Chicago fans runs that deep.

We need that hate. Anaheim is done. Scott Niedermayer is back at Berkeley with his incense and his VW van. He’s walking around with his fingers and thumbs squeezed together with rodents crawling out of his idiotic beard. Sasquatch is back at home punching himself in the head because he still can’t figure out what the little hand on the clock means.

They’re gone, and with them—it would appear—went much of the steam that drives this Train. Drew’s had it. We need it.

It’s understandable that you don’t feel it yet. It’s like the little, itty bitty brittle bitter bitch Blues fans. For so long, they’ve represented nothing. No threat. No talent. No team. We laughed at them and still do. We laugh at how badly they hate us. It’s one of the true joys of being a Wing fan, a fan of a team so dominant that our rival fan bases literally sob in jealousy. Blues fans are doing that today. Every day. Hawk fans are the same, have been for decades and will be again. We don’t hate them because they don’t matter. Winning one playoff game changes none of that. Chicago fans, like their team, like their bitch coach and exactly like Brian Campbell, just don’t matter.

And it’s going to be even better this time. Because they actually believe they’re going to win this series. You’re stressed out today. I am too. But I’m here to tell you that in a few day’s time, maybe a week? We’ll be laughing at those fu** sticks again. Laughing at their bitterness and laughing at the fact that ten year olds are going to bed in tears because daddy called from jail again and said he won’t be home, again, because the Hawks lost, again, and his life sucks, again.

You’re going to hear the beautiful sounds of silence this evening. 22,000 little bitches silently streaming out of their bandwagon barn. 22,000 Hawk “fans”, with their two-word vocabularies and their two years of hockey-fan experience will look down at the ice as the Wings congratulate Chris Osgood and they’re going to realize, as we all will, that this thing ends today. Because a 1-3 deficit is something that team is not equipped to recover from.

Blues fans and Hawk fans are exactly the same. It’s funny. Related. Tied at the hip, holding hands, probably touching each other in strange ways. Villagers who share a hatred for Detroit, for the Wings and for you.

They despise you because of our team’s success. And that is exactly why I love being a Wing fan.

Because when this thing is over, when this series is done and the world is spinning smoothly on an axis that guarantees Hawk fans feel consistent pain? I’m going to enjoy shoving this series win down their throats in every other post I write.

Silence. Tonite. A lot of it. “Detroit Sucks”, eh?

I guess we’ll see won’t we?