
Silky Johnson, 2002's Hater of the Year.
The Yachtsman
Warning to all you loveable, soft-hearted Buffalonians who read this blog: this post is covered in Haterade of the Brooklyn kind. Buyer beware.
Alright Buffalo. I've stayed away from one of these posts at the behest of my colleagues because they insist that I'm a professional hater. I tried to not write this. It's been a month or so since he took over the franchise, and I've only muttered these types of thoughts at the end of several pints. I've tried so hard to not be the Debbie Downer, but DAMN IT Y'ALL MADE ME DO IT I CAN'T STOP IT ANYMORE. THE HATE FLOWS FROM MY VEINS LIKE ANAKIN AFTER HE SMOKED THAT VILLAGE OF SAND PEOPLE!

MANY BOTHANS DIED FOR THIS POST!
This.
Shit. Has
Got To
Stop. I bit my tongue when he cried at the press conference because everyone was digging it. I stayed away from the weirdos obsessing over the daughters and their respective twittage because....well because I stay away from subtle pedophilia like it's AIDS. I stayed away from basically all of Pegula-mania because I just want owners to own, players to play, and teams to fucking win cups. But this birthday shit......this hater CANNOT abide. In the words of my TV doppelganger:

This is a $6,400 suit! COME ON!
I understand everyone is pumped about an underachieving shyte of a team underwhelming themselves to an 8th seed when teams above them with half the talent are cruising to playoff berths or division championships (COUGH - THE BRUINS COUGH COUGH - THE RANGERS). I get that. I get that a billionaire decided his sunset years would be spent questing for the Sabres to get a cup. I get that, and fuck I love it too. But seriously. The guy changed the carpeting in the lockerroom, ditched the slug, and put up a suggestion box. We didn't go out and get Brad Richards. We're not smashing our way to a 1 seed. All we did was start operating like the other 90% of the league. WHEN HE WINS CUPS, I WILL SING. UNTIL THEN LET US NOT ACT LIKE JESUS RAINED MONEY ON DOWN FROM HIGH WITH WHICH WE ARE TO BATHE OUR GRUNDELS.
God love you Buffalo, act like you've been here before.
See? Haterade. Don't say I didn't warn you.