When I accepted FanDuel's gracious offer of allowing us to
stomp out compete in their NHL Writer's League, I wasn't out to set anything on fire or destroy any lives. Sometimes, life just kind of works out that way. Kind of like how General Sherman didn't really mean to burn down, starve and do nasty things to the South during the Civil War*. But, well, he and his army sure did. The difference between us is, we didn't have the power of Barry's mullet. Everything's better with a mullet.
I never meant to win two of the first four weeks in the FanDuel Writer's league. Or have the highest score of the season both times. Sometimes, when life gives you lemons you punch it in the mouth and say "it's November, I'm sick of fucking lemonade give me some damned cider." And sometimes when you go on your blog and post Your Obligatory Shit Talking After Winning Something Semi-Meaningless it comes out like this.
Just be warned. Now I'm smarmy, half-drunk and out for blood. And you don't like this vampire when he's boozed up and out for blood.
* - May not be factually accurate on account of this being a hockey blog and all.