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F-You Friday

Call it the mid-afternoon venting, an airing of grievances or just F-You Friday.

Welcome to our now weekly bitch session where we gather round the laptop or the desktop or your choice of mobile device and communicate what has pissed you off, frustrated you or rained on your parade.

Small reminder, we'll have a live GDT (that stands for game day thread for uninitiated) for the draft tonight. It'll go live at 6 p.m. CDT when the draft begins on the Bullriding Network (Versus). Anybody who's anybody will be there.

Go to the jump to keep from jumping yourself.

Fuck you Bobby Orr and your statue. I've been meaning to write about this piece of junk for awhile. It commemorates the overtime game-winning goal Orr scored against St. Louis in the Stanley Cup Finals. It's possibly the most famous goal in hockey history, immortalized with a photo of Orr flying Superman style after Noel Picard tripped him with his stick. Allegedly. Wait, strike that, Picard fucking did it. Too bad Orr didn't land on his spleen or something. Not that I really hate Orr, the revolutionary defenseman that made blueliners offensive players. It's more toward the NHL showing the clip so often during the playoffs and lamenting the fact that the Blues don't have a similar moment in franchise history. Maybe the guy chosen tonight by the Blues will have his own statue some day.

Fuck you heat similar to living on the sun. It's June, one of the nicest months in St. Louis. Except this week where the camels at the zoo were all, "Can we go inside the air conditioning now?" Heat indexes above 100 degrees should be reserved for late July-early August. And Las Vegas. Speaking of Vegas...

Fuck you Pavel Datsyuk for winning the Selke award every year. The best defensive forward is such a subjective vote and I can see where the people casting ballots are looking for something concrete to put their faith in. So they look at plus/minus and things like blocked shots and takeaways. Datsyuk doesn't go down (to block the puck) often, but he usually leads the league in taking the puck away. Message to voters: There's more to defense than takeaways. Voting based on one stat or two is asinine. Jay McClement, we'll get you more than two first-place votes next year.

Fuck you draft parties at bars. We've been to some of these shindigs. It's a chance to see some familiar faces, talk some pucks, maybe see an alumni player and broadcaster. And beer. Beer makes everything better. But when they have these things in a popular bar during happy hour on a Friday afternoon/early evening, they don't fucking work. At previous events, they quickly ran out of parking and seats near a TV. Getting served at the bar takes boobs or bribery (or bribery with boobs). And at the end of a night crammed into a loud, hot room with sweaty hockey get a lifers, you might wish you stayed home.

Fuck you Ghana. Sorry for the malaria and stuff, but you're going down tomorrow. So take that annoying plastic horn and blow it out your ass. USA, baby.