Since Gary's first work stoppage, his first opus, the Wings have played hundreds of trap games. Now, wait. A "trap game" is defined as follows by a sports book I found at the AM/PM lodged incorrectly but conveniently between some beer nuts and a bag of Ricola; "any time a team has won its most recently-played game against an opponent many consider to be superior, there is a great risk of emotional letdown and neurological relaxation. Evidence of this was first discovered in 1987 on a large scale when the heavily favored Detroit Tigers lost to the Minnesota Twins in an American League Championship Series following a particularly intense three-week end to a regular season that saw Kirk Gibson turn the Toronto Blue Jays into his own personal prison bitch and play toy." It says that, word for word.

So, using that definition, the Wings have played 357 "trap" games. They've lost 355. That's just science. I looked it up and I found those numbers and they're accurate and you create something from your ivory fuching tower if you don't believe me.

I made it up. All of it. The definition, the number, the beer nuts. Everything, But I do know today is a trap game and we're almost certainly going to lose. There is no chance in a fiery Hell the Wings win this after blasting the Blues in front of their Joe Camel fans with their "Europe" concert t-shirts stained with Boone's Farm and crusted over a few times because the sock drawer was full.

Todd Bertuzzi's out with a back injury and if you haven't seen The Following you need to because now we know how our Serial Killer has so many friends on this team. It's a damn cult is what it is. So he's hurt and Jimmah's back but deep down inside we see the burning ember of a _____ ______rsy. It's what we do.

Trap game. Disaster coming. Diasssttterrrrr coming.

Wings win 5-3. Zetterman. Buckets (again). Kronwall. Brunnnnnnnner (2).

It's a mid-day Live Blog, bitches.