I hope he's held accountable for all of his games. I hope the league reviews him and realizes he probably doesn't know more than my younger sister Nadine does about hockey. I hope they suspend his referee license (they have those, right?) I hope he can't get another job. I hope he doesn't make enough money to feed his family. I hope his child dies. Then I hope he makes enough to support himself and his wife and his other child. But I also hope he keeps looking back on his past in regret and his dead son's cries for more food always haunt him. He'll look back and go 'man, that wasn't the first time I totally screwed Philadelphia in a game, but that is when my life took a turn for the worse.' I'll say something witty lik: "isn't karma a bitch, don?" or "do you need a dollar, sir?"
I'll even buy the guy a cheap gun (look, I'm not spending mad dollars on the thing-- he's already demonstrated he can't perform well under pressure. For all we know I could buy him a fancy gun, he could try to kill himself, and he could still screw it up-- retard).
Maybe someone else should *wink wink* buy him something (like a dirt nap)
Even in this picture--I keep seeing him point to the penalty box and making a 'hooking' or 'tripping' motion.
After I got my way I'd only make one motion at Don-- the jerk- off.
I'd be like "Hey Don, I totally had dirty dirty back-door intercourse with your mom the night you tried to have back-door intercourse with the Flyers. Oh wait, only one big difference-- Don, I cut your mom's throat with a razor blade and watched her bleed to death in front of a mirror. My bad man. Totally an accident. We're even I guess."
At least I'd be straight forward with him you know. He'd probably think I was doing that to his 'live' mom.
That's messed up.
I'd only do it to her upper half that I'd have set to the side.
Oh, Don.
You crack me up buddy. You silly sir.
Hope your life, your family's life, and your career in the NHL are fruitful and don't end horribly in flaming car wrecks.
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