Saturday, January 31, 2009
Woah! CAPTMAYHEM is carrying the torch in the tradition of great Cap'n's such as Crunch, Stubing, Obvious, America, and Ron. With his steady hand upon the wheel of clinically idiotic decisions, CAPTMAYHEM steers the good ship Schlongbreath on a true course to the safe harbor of the last row of the 300's (on the end where the Sabres shoot once). What most average civilians may not know is that prior his promotion to CAPT, he was better known as LIEUTENIANTCOMMANDERPANDEMONIUM and previous to that, ENSIGNDISORDER. As you can see he has really moved up. This has everything to do with his uncanny ability to combine the innate discipline, structure, and order of military service with the "mayhem" of rooting for the Sabres, making shitty custom jerseys, and drinking airline size bottles peppermint schnapps behind the half finished casino on the opposite side of the parking ramp before the game with some party animals he met online. WWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! FFFUCKKKHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
What with the oppressive and seemingly endless snow and cold we have experienced lately in the Buffalo, now seems like the right time for a cutesy theme post! What do the weather and this sick jersey have in common? Can you guess the tie in? If you said both are exactly as cool as sliding a small glass rod in your urethra and then smashing your penis with a cinder block, you would be correct! Congratulations!
Sunday, January 25, 2009
What could possibly explain this? Was this whale fart huffing diesel fuel? I never thought I would say this, but (deep breath in) I really hope that's their last name on the back of that Vanek jersey. Because if it's not....... That's just fucking retarded. One of the biggest disappointments in NHL history. That's bad enough. It's like that tub of shit you see walking into Buffalo wild wings with a Ryan Leaf jersey. Except its on a Bills jersey. And it has barf with tiny chunks of Cheetos on it. What amount of baby shaking produces a brain capable of such tomfoolery? Yeah I said tomfoolery! I am freaking the fuck out. Listen. I'm gonna make a cocktail and sit down for a minute. Just continue to stare in awe. I have nothing else to say.
P.S. I lied. This jersey should be set on fire and put out with a fifty gallon drum of hobo piss. Now I'm done.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
As all real sick jersey fans know, we have seen the #1 dad. This shit isn't like that. This is the #1 BEST dad. WAYYYYYYYYY different. This is the single greatest father to ever walk the earth. Now, I understand that if I were a father and my children bought me this jersey, I would be moved and cherish the thought behind the jersey. But who the fuck are kids to rate the excellence of anything? They are innately inexcellent. They think mac and cheese with hot dog chunks is the best meal humans can muster. Kids can barely keep themselves from eating crayons. The truth is, you only have one father. If he's cool, he's John F. Kennedy meets Zeus times Voltron awesome. How can we really trust them? But what if "best dad" bought the jersey for himself? Is there a real chance of that? Could you, in good conscience, wear a jersey that said ACCOUNTANT #1? To be sure, it's just shitty to brag. Even if you believe it is true. But BEST ACCOUNTANT #1? Wow. That is a leap. BEST DAD #1. So, out of every dude on the planet, this dude is the best dude who has had children................ever. Congrats best dad. You are sick as shit.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Can you believe this either? It is totally sick. Maybe the sickest ever. It's a triple on one dude. I can't tell if this or the recent trip Dubke is superior. I'm leaning towards this fartbox. I mean, even by conservative estimates he's spent around $500.00 putting "Ritz" on three different eras of Sabres jerseys. Not to mention he committed the cardinal sin using Perrault's number. They don't let other players use that number. Now doing Hecht like that is one thing. But Gilbert. Come on Ritzy. you are sooooooooooooooooooooo sick. (On a side note, do you know how hard it is for me not to make golden, buttery, flaky cracker jokes?) Henceforth, let all other other pretenders know that your personal sick jerseyness pales in comparison to the "Ritz". Maybe the sickest of all time.
Is that.....It..........OMG! It IS! Its the Great One! #99 HEWRYLCZAK! Not to mention his boy M.Harvey! Holy fucking shit! Did these dipshits fly through some 1999 time warp to the glittering and metropolitan Buffalo of ten years later? Listen guys, We have a black mayor, a black president, and our colors are blue and gold again. I'm fully aware that's a lot to take in especially because I can't drive to Cleveland without bitching and moaning like a three year old, so I can only imagine what the rigors of time travel can do to you. In the case of HEWRYLCZAK, well, what can you say? Putting that name on anything seems like a bad decision. It looks like a phonetic translation of the noise Saddam Hussein made when they hung him. and M. Harvey? Is there a S. Harvey or D. Harvey we should be on the lookout for? I actually would prefer a Paul Harvey jersey but no one younger that my Grandma would get the reference. Either way, thanks for the clarification and the history lesson about sick jerseys of yesteryear.
At first glance you might think what we have here is the return of "Lovas" from a few months ago. You would be tragically wrong. This is a great example of how the simple "hooded sweat shirt" or "hoodie" as the kids call it, is the enemy of properly enjoying a good sick jersey. Is it Lovat? What about Luvat? Who the fuck knows? I personally believe the word of Sickjerseybro.com has spread and they are begining to retreat in shame. Either that or it was cold or some shit. Grant Ledyard is still very, very dissapointed in you. *wagging finger*
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Assholes are hitting doubles and triples like Ricky Henderson up in this motherfucker lately. I'm convinced that It's only a matter of time before we see a five banger. Like a whole team. In the case of the Winchells here we see that they both dig the slug, went for a "home and away" motif, and both have apparently never heard of Pat LaFontaine. Is this like a new right of passage for newly married couples in the Western New York area? I think it goes like this: Meet at Macaroon's, Get Married, buy a house in Cheektowaga, get matching sick jerseys, shit out the next generation of sick jerseys. They are seriously everywhere. The best part is that they can't see how preposterous it looks. Here is my equation for sickness: (Pat LaFontaine's number) + (jersey he never played in) + (Your own name x2). But like Gandhi said, “Anyone who sees and paints a sky green and fields blue ought to be sterilized." Uh, oops, actually that was Hitler. My Bad.