You know what I hate more than REO Speedwagon? REO Bandwagon.
Now I don't want to get off on yet another rant here, but there are few things I hate more than bandwagon fans. Maybe I'm just bitter because I hate Chris Pronger more than any defenceman since Mike Green, and I hate Daniel Briere because he's more of a traitor than Chris Drury, but where in the hell were Flyers fans all season?
I mean jay-sus, I have a harder time finding Flyers fans than I do finding my house keys after a night of hitting Happy Hour at Cafe Asia and drinking half-price sake and then trying to stumble home and tripping down the incline on Courthouse Road and rolling into a construction site at the intersection of Courthouse Road & Route 50, and being forced to remove my pants because they're all covered in vomit and mud, and the mud I can explain easily, becuase I tripped over one of the sprinkler heads of the Courthouse Vista complex, but the vomit, not so much, but I swear it is because the waitress spiked my sake because I know it tasted funny, and finding that I fell into the same trench that was dug for the hi-speed internet for all the white-collar snobs living in that complex and then having to high-tail it home because I tried to water one of the plants of some stuck-up tenant stupid enough to live on the first floor , and then realizing that my apartment keys are in the pocket of the same pants in the same trench guarded by an aggressive english boxer out for a midnight stroll because his master fed him chocolate, and then realizing I have to go back, without any pants, and might I add without any dignity, and still realizing I can't find my pants or my keys because its raining and the trench is full of mud and I'm just looking for shelter from the storm, and yet as I claw through the mud like I'm Tim Robbins in Shawshank Redemption and I'm trying to escape from prison, I realize I will find my keys eventually.
It also dawns on me, that even if I work this hard, I'll never find a true Flyers fan again.