An Ode to Clean IceShareThis
It took one blog to prove that everyone everywhere ever loves goalies, and I feel dirty for cashing in on the obvious. That damn blog had like, 20+ comments in it’s first 20+ hours.
Imagine if I was a goalie? This blog would be worldwide, bitches (©Ms. Conduct).
So let’s switch it up, before I starting feeling too “pop culture” for writing blogs like that (that’s what goalies are by the way – the pop culture part of hockey. The same way that bands like Fallout Boy and Panic! at the Disco claim to be sort of emo, dark and brooding, yet their songs are consistently radio-friendly hits - goalies play the same role. “Ohhh, we’re so mysterious… enjoy my bobblehead”! Ahhh, forget it, I’m doing it again).
Wait, I blacked out… what was I talking about?
Oh yeah, switching it up.
I have to admit, I somewhat cater to my audience with all the hockey stuff. I like hockey, but it’s probably not at the core of my being (while freezies, golf, NFL football and stuffed animals probably are. *Authors note: Justin is still into chicks – albeit just one of them -, so ignore that last item on the list).
But, in breaking into this highly profitable world of writing (as I snack on “Thin Wheats”, because I can’t afford the extra 30 cents to buy non-dyslexic crackers), I’ve had to understand that it’s the topic I’ve got the most credibility on.
So, without further ado, I’m switching styles today, not subject matter. I bring to you a poem that’s a roundabout attempt at scorning players who don’t let the ice freeze before skating on it.
An Ode to (those who sully) Clean Ice:
( With Shakesperian accent)
Why, eager players, must you skate unto fresh, just-bathed rink,
With no regard for your comrades – doth thou not think?
The smooth brilliance, earned by that patient crew,
Can be shattered, will be shattered – by a mindless few.
The puck, she can slide over slick and slippery smooths,
But your skates, too soon, cause those sloshy deep grooves.
The puck will bounce, and scoring, she suffers,
No wonder, it’s defensemen, those dumb motherf*****s
…yeah, I wrote a poem. Do something about it.