Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Hey, asshole in the pimped-out Red Wings wagon:

You got jobbed last night. Real bad. Humiliated, by the authors of this blog no less.

And you were creative enough to say "Fuck you man!" as you drove away. Like that was the best you could do.

Granted we said a few choice things that would have made anyone from Detroit want to punch the next 30 newborns delivered in Pittsburgh right in the face, you were driving this:

What you have to do to a GM vehicle to raise its resale value

And you drove it here. In our house. We saw your broke ass driving around downtown all day at 20 mph like you were hot shit, and the minute we embarrassed you in front of all those people who were laughing at your second-rate demolition derby ride and your miserable city, you disappeared. Haven't seen you since.

Can't even take a good jobbing. Next time you come flaunting that elementary school science project Stanley Cup ornament on your roof in our city, expect it to be much worse. 'Cause we'll be right there dahntahn again waiting for you next game. Frankly, it's a mystery how you got that thing out of here last night unscathed.

You come into our city and insult us like that, and Maxime "Leonidas" Talbot gets pissed. Real pissed. And we know what happens from there:

Tomorrow. DO IT.

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