The Heartache Of Leafs Nation

Leafs Nation Shattered Once Again After Team Lets Them Down

Toronto (CP) It is a universally acknowledged truth that the Maple Leafs will rip the hearts out of their fans each and every year. Some years it's in not even making the playoffs at all. Others, it's getting a round or two in, only to have the other team stomp on them and send them off to the golf courses. The drought now extends back to 1967, with generations of the fandom otherwise known as Leafs Nation getting their hearts broken. Again, and again. And again. And again some more.

The fortunes of the Maple Leafs took a wrong turn in round two of the Stanley Cup playoffs, after the team won the first two games against the Florida Panthers, only to have everything go horribly wrong, losing three games straight, winning Game 6, and getting humiliated in Game 7, getting eliminated from the playoffs. Leafs Nation have been drowning their sorrows ever since in bars and wondering why things looked so promising, only to collapse in on them. Bartenders have reported a brisk business, all while also reporting acting as unofficial therapists and sources of comfort in the wake of yet another screw up and team collapse.

"This is always a busy time of year for us," one downtown bartender reported. "We bring in a lot of business, but the flip side to it, the fans are deep in that despair stage of grief right now. They're crying, they're hurting, and they all lean on us for some kind of reassurance that it'll get better."

Not all of them are at the despair stage. Some are still angry, blaming the refs, looking for conspiracy theories as to what went wrong. "This was supposed to be our year," Darryl Aldeborough, a long time fan told this reporter. "But we got screwed. Big time. The refs, man, the refs. They got paid off by somebody. I don't know who, but when I find out, I'm gonna..."

This reporter stopped Aldeborough there, reminding him he was venturing into making threats territory.

It's not just the bartenders who are consoling people in the wake of the train wreck that was Round Two. Ministers, priests, and other religious leaders have reported an overwhelming amount of hurt, anger, despair, and heartache from those who have come for consolation. The Reverend Angus Carlyle, a Presbyterian pastor in Edmonton, had an unusual take on the matter. "There is a school of thought, informal, you understand, among some of the faithful in Leafs Nation that they are being punished by God. That God hates the Leafs. That His wrath is being repeatedly vented upon them. And when you look at going on sixty years of failed hopes and dreams... well, you can understand where they're coming from. Doesn't affect me all that much. I'm an Oilers fan."

Psychologists are also reporting heightened levels of anxiety, grief, and depression in Leafs Nation. "It's astonishing, this level of commitment," Doctor Alexandra Seward noted from her Kingston offices. "Generations of people who live and die as Maple Leafs fans, proclaiming each and every year that this is going to be their year, and then seeing their hopes dashed to pieces. We in this profession are starting to muse on the possibility that it might be some sort of mental illness, this devotion to a team that consistently breaks hearts, followed by a summer of forgetting that broken heart. It's been said that insanity is repeating the same mistakes, and well... Leafs Nation keeps making the same mistake."

Game 7 might well have been the most painful game in recent history for fans, a 6 to 1 thrashing in which the Leafs barely registered at all, while the Florida Panthers stomped all over them. Hometown fans were leaving the arena well before the game ended, sensing the worst. The crowd out in Maple Leaf Square were seen howling and crying. In a city of rational hockey fans, this would be enough to kill the fandom. But this is Leafs Nation, and rational doesn't qualify when describing them.

They were spotted burning their Maple Leaf flags, their jerseys. And yet it was inevitable that the same people doing that were just twenty four hours later reassuring themselves that no, this was all a bad memory, and that next year would be better. It is a vicious cycle without end, of bargaining and acceptance, of living in the rut of cheering for a team that will, when it really counts, screw up really badly and blow their chances. 

One season ticket holder this reporter spoke to seemed to take it all in stride, though he declined to give a name. "I know, they're my team. But I also know that they're going to come apart when it really matters. I saw it last year, and told the guys, 'this is when it all starts falling apart.' And I saw it this year in Game 5 when they got smacked around. Hey, at least I made some money on it this time. I bet Florida would win the round, and that's what happened."

Other fans are feeling the pain. At another of the city's bars, this reporter encountered a trio of rather infamous fans, men who once held the Stanley Cup hostage and demanded the Leafs be retroactively be named the champions. "It's ****in' simple," one of them told this reporter. "It's one big ****in' conspiracy against us. Against our boys. Yeah, sure, we might lose our minds after a bad loss and for a moment or two blame the team, but **** no! It's not their fault! We're Leafs Nation! Me and Jack and Harry, we're the biggest fans of the Leafs! Am I right, boys?"

He guzzled down some Molsons before continuing. "Point is, these things ****in' happen. And we'll hurt for a little bit, but we'll get past it. Because they're our team, and we bleed Leafs blue. And next year is gonna be different. Am I right, boys? Go Leafs go!!!!"

This reporter left them to their drinking, seeing no point in trying to get them to accept a little thing called reality.

They came. They saw. They didn't conquer. So it can be said for the end of the Maple Leafs 2024-25 season, ending once again in a disaster of epic proportions. Heads will roll in the off season, but who? And how soon? Which trades will be made, and what rationalizations will be given? 

This reporter leaves off with a remark from someone living in the nation's capital. "There are three certainties. Death. Taxes. And the Maple Leafs screwing up when it really counts."

That Old Lawyer Scammer Ploy

They will always be the lowest of the low. They suck the life out of any room they step into, which is a rarity, since they spend 99 percent of their lives in a basement. They infest our blogs with comments that prove they're not reading what you wrote. They send us endless get rich quick scheme emails. I speak of course of that vile subspecies of human otherwise known as homo sapiens spammeritis annoyingus. The internet scammer.

The following made its way into my email recently, from someone claiming to be a lawyer.

Dear Friend,

I am a lawyer by profession here in my country Togo--Lome west Africa, one of my clients from your country used to work with a shell development company here in the republic of TOGO Africa. My client, his wife and their only daughter were involved in an auto crash here in my country. I decided to contact you so that the $10.5M Dollars he left behind in a bank here will be transferred to your bank account immediately.

Best regards,

Barrister Johnson Luther Chamber.

We've seen versions of this before. The random email ending up in junk folders, sent to hundreds of thousands of people with the exact same story. This time the lawyer (note: they're not a real lawyer) tells us a story about his client, the wife, and their daughter in Togo dying in a car crash. Oh, and by the way, there's 10.5 million dollars in cash in a bank account waiting for me if I just answer this email.

Yeah, right.

Because if this was real, and it's not, then no self respecting lawyer would be going out of their way to hand off the money to a complete stranger. No, they'd be too busy siphoning that money into their own accounts, because let's face it, most lawyers cannot be trusted. 

So it's not real, but it has the tell-tales of a classic scam. The sad story of the death of a family in a car crash. The Third World setting. The inexplicably large amount of money for someone from a Third World country.

But these are never real. What's real is the convenient "administrative fee" that some poor schmuck who reads the email and actually believes it goes and pays. A few thousand dollars. Followed by the "lawyer" ghosting him and moving on to send another scam email to hundreds of thousands of people.

Nice try, you sod. But I know better. And I know not to trust anything coming from someone like you.

Since you started this with the story of a car crash, may I recommend the following? Get in your car. Drive and park on a freight railroad track. Take some sleeping pills. And fall asleep. Let nature take its course.

A Haunting On The Maine Coast

Mysterious Deaths Plague Maine Coast; Spectral Activity Or Serial Killer?

Portland, Maine (AP) It is a landscape with a rich history, tall tales, and dark superstitions, if you pay heed to the old timers sitting outside the small town general stores swapping stories. The coast of Maine has always been a place of the sea, of ghost stories and wild woodlands, of strange sightings and things that go bump in the night. As of late, that appears to be weighing heavily on the minds of people living along the Atlantic coast, where in the last two months, a mysterious series of unexplained deaths have been taking place.

Seventeen people have died in mysterious circumstances. Police have confirmed that in each case, while no physical injury has been inflicted on them- at least by another party- each have been found with an expression in death being one of sheer horror. "As if they'd seen a ghost," Captain George Allen of the Maine State Police said at the scene of the latest death, where a seventy eight year old woman had been found on a beach, having had fallen from a bluff below. "Her injuries appear to have been sustained in the fall, but her face was locked in terror."

She remains unnamed pending notification of family, but she was last seen the prior evening in the local town of Cabot Cove at a library board meeting before being found by a beach walker at dawn. 

In each case of the seventeen dead, all were known to be well liked in their communities. "Who would have wanted to hurt my dad?" teacher Cassandra Tupper said. Her father, Lyle Tupper, was an area doctor who was the first to be found dead, in a similar state, in his backyard in early March. Neighbours had heard an unearthly scream. When Tupper had been found moments later, he was seen to be alone, fallen on the ground, his face locked in horror. No one had been seen to leave the yard, or to enter it. At least not by living eyes. 

A doorbell camera across the street did capture something- but it only raised more questions. Police are tight lipped about it, but one source, speaking anonymously, said, "for a few seconds, this misty shape can be seen emerging from the side laneway, and then disappears off screen. I don't know about you, but I know ghosts when I see one."

A ghost of who, that is the question. Doctor Tupper was a resident of the small town of Cabot Cove. Son of the sheriff. Brother of another sheriff. A well liked doctor, affable and friendly. With not an enemy in the world. No one to speak ill of him in any way. A common thread with the other victims in these cases.

But Cabot Cove has a dark history. 

It was once the home of the world's most prolific serial killer. The murder mystery novelist Jessica Fletcher, who died in a Canadian prison in 2022 after being brought down by the world's crankiest lawman, exposed for having had committed thousands of murders over decades. 

Her final resting place is in Cabot Cove, alongside her late husband- who, ironically, was her first victim. She died on Hallowe'en night, 2022, in solitary confinement after killing another inmate sixty years younger than her. Stories that went around after her conviction indicated that of a deranged, psychopathic, remorseless monster who would speak of eating the heart of the very lawman who arrested her. Her loved ones were shocked by the allegations, the arrest, the conviction, and her ultimate end. Her home in Cabot Cove remains empty, despite being held on the market by her nephew Grady. Not even the bravest children dare to trespass, warning each other what might happen if they do. Stories are shared more and more of a spectral shade wandering the coast, late at night, of an unseen female voice with an English accent speaking about torture.

Local psychic Dru Blaise has her own perspective. "All of the people who have died. I believe they may have been on her to-do list. She knew everyone here. And we were all fooled by her. Is it possible that she meant to kill all of us over time? I don't know. But my dreams have been dark as of late. I see a malevolence in these parts, offering tea with arsenic and an English accent."

Sheriff Angus Tupper, who has spent years since the arrest of Cabot Cove's most famous and infamous resident trying to understand the depth of her depravity, had this to say. "Well, if anyone could claw their way back from hell, it would be her. Which, if you'd asked me twenty years ago, I wouldn't have said so. But I've read her journals, and she was into some serious dark ****. Now, the idea of her also doing in my brother? Where does it end?"

Grady Fletcher, the dimwitted nephew of the murderer, sighed and shook his head. "I don't know. I don't get it. She's dead. I'm still trying to accept that my sweet old aunt was this psychopathic monster. But people don't come back from the dead. Ghosts? They're not real. But all the same, I think we've got to play it safe and call in the Ghostbusters on this one."

When told that the Ghostbusters aren't real, Fletcher looked even more confused. "Are you sure?"

Whatever the truth is, residents of the coast, particularly of Cabot Cove, are looking over their shoulders a lot more these days. 

The last word belongs to the lawman who ended her reign of terror. Legendary Mountie Inspector Lars Ulrich was found at his detachment in the Alberta foothills by a group of real reporters. After being assured that the real reporters were well aware that he was not the Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich, the inspector appeared to be at ease. "Whatever is happening out there does sound odd. But it doesn't mean it's a ghost."

"Hypothetically, though, if her vengeful spirit clawed its way back from the dead. Should you be worried? She swore eternal revenge against you in particular," this reporter noted.

Ulrich shrugged. "Let me put it to you this way. I don't believe in ghosts. But if ghosts were real, then I wouldn't be scared of them." 

He paused. "But they should be terrified of me."

At this point, there was the sound of footsteps and a raised voice. "Lars! Lars!" The reporters turned, seeing a goofy looking fresh faced guy in an ill fitting suit, followed by a cameraman. The reporters backed off, well too familiar with what the Mountie did to entertainment reporters. "Bobby Burns, Lars, Entertainment Tonight. Good to meet you. Lars, what the whole world wants to know is, what's the truth about the rumours that Metallica is doing an album with Adele?"

Ulrich looked ready to throttle him. "I am not that Lars Ulrich."

Burns looked confused. "Are you sure?"

What happened next wasn't pretty. Ulrich threw one hard left handed punch, sending Burns crashing twenty meters away. And then Ulrich started chasing him, as the entertainment reporter fled. It ended with Burns in a body cast, whimpering over and over about his favourite drummer kicking the crap out of him.

The Case Of The Crypto Spammer

 

They are the worst of the worst. A vile, drooling, unscrupulous lot without morals or integrity. No, not politicians, but even worse. I speak, of course, of that horrid subspecies of humanity we call homo sapiens spammeritis irritatingus. Also known as the internet scammer and spammer, who send us random emails promising a get rich scheme, or spam our comments with the same sort of crap. The following came from one of their lot, who used a fake name, fake photo, and claimed to be an accountant.

As an accountant, I'm typically cautious with my finances. However, last year, I felt pressure to join the cryptocurrency market, fearing I'd miss out on potential gains. An Instagram ad for CBEX Trading caught my attention, with its professional website, real-time charts, and promising testimonials. A representative named Elena guided me through the platform, offering a $200 welcome bonus. Convinced by their promises, I invested $87,000 worth of Bitcoins.
But when CBEX's website crashed, and all communication channels were severed, I realized I had been scammed. Devastated and lost, I searched for ways to recover my funds. That's when I discovered Morphohack, a reputable crypto recovery service. Their expertise and track record gave me hope.

Morphohack's team worked diligently to track down my stolen bitcoins and successfully recovered it from the CBEX scam. I'm grateful for their exceptional service and expertise. Thanks to Morphohack, I was able to recover my losses. If you've fallen victim to a CBEX/PCEX Scam, I highly recommend Morphohack's services.

We've seen this crap before. This scam has several variations on the same story, as this halfwit responded to a previous post on cyber scams. He wants me to believe this story (I don't) of miraculously getting money back after losing a five figure sum in crypto-currency. Well, let's make at least one thing perfectly clear- crypto-currency is the sort of rabbit hole I would never go down. Not with the sort of dirtbags who endorse it. 

He weaves his little tale of how he, a cautious accountant, sunk all that money into crypto, only to have it go south on him. And then he touts this company with what he claims to be "reputable". This, despite the fact that the first company to come up with that name leads to a dead end online. So you'll excuse me if I'm not exactly confident of this nonsense in the first place. As well, I've seen it before. For a guy who claims to be an accountant (I doubt this very much), you're really, really stupid.

Nice try.

Honestly, man, what is it about finding a real job that's so hard for you? Why do you insist on being like this? Sending random comments with a fake story, or random emails, promising riches that will never be? This is not a productive use of your time. The vast majority of people see you for what you are.

But since you persist in this crap, let me just leave you with a warning.

Take it seriously. 

The Remake That No One Wanted

 

Director Announces New Spin On Old Story; Reporters Sigh In Dismay, Jack and Rose Fans Outraged

Los Angeles (AP) It is a truth universally acknowledged that an egomaniac director is in want of attention. So is the case once again this week when reporters were called to the production facilities of Digital Domain, one of the perpetual playgrounds of the director behind explosion prone spectacles like Armageddon, Pearl Harbor, and the Transformers franchise.

The one and only legend in his own mind, Michael Bay.

This reporter was sent to be part of the party (editor: yeah, sorry, but the readers love to read your gripes), which included some real reporters and a horde of entertainment reporters. The latter had not one brain cell circulating among them as they gathered in an auditorium at Digital Domain. A podium had been set up on stage, with a large standing mirror beside it. The entertainment reporters were buzzing. A spokeswoman came out on stage, calling for everyone's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, let me present the greatest cinematic genius of our time, Mr. Michael Bay!!!!"

The entertainment reporters broke out into rapturous applause. The real reporters sighed and shook their heads. Out onto the stage strode Michael Bay, looking his usual self. The three days of stubble. The dishevelled hair. The casual look. He grinned like an idiot- his default setting- and walked towards the podium. He paused, winked at his reflection, and smiled some more (editor: he really is full of himself).

Finally he faced the audience. "Hi there! Great to see you. I know you're all wondering what I've called you here for, so let's not waste any time. I've been meaning to get back and do something by the way of historical drama. With explosions. So I am here to announce my next blockbuster film, which we're calling Curse Of The Titanic!"

A gasp went up from the real reporters, but was drowned out by the entertainment reporters. First, Titanic had been pretty much definitively done by director James Cameron, winning Oscars and unleashing a torrent of memes, particularly as time has gone on and one of its stars has shown an inability to date his own age (editor: Leonardo DiCaprio, we're looking at you). Second, who would entrust Michael Bay with the subject.

Bay carried on. "Now I know what you're thinking. This has been done before, and that's true. Which is why I'm not going to have the sinking of the ship be the heart and soul of this story. I'm going to feature it, yes, but early on, because that's not the story I want to tell."

This reporter checked his watch, wondering how long this nonsense might take. Bay continued. "No, it's been done. What I want to play around with is the idea of... what if the ship sank for other reasons? And what if the one person who should have stayed on board, if only for the sake of his own reputation, would be forever haunted. By the real reason for the sinking."

"What on earth is your angle?" this reporter asked (editor: is he on drugs?). 

"My angle is simple. That iceberg was sent to collide with the ship. Sent by a ship that was cursed to sail the seas until the end of time. A ship we all know as the Flying Dutchman."

The legend is an old one, a ghost story set at sea involving a cursed crew doomed to sail the seas forever. But of all the stories about Titanic, nowhere is there mention of a ghostly ship. 

"Are you out of your mind?" another reporter asked.

Bay shook his head. "No, why do people keep saying that? Now look, all I'm saying is that maybe, just maybe, a ship that was only seen by one person sent that iceberg into a collision course. And that one person spent the rest of his life haunted. So, ladies and gentlemen, playing my protagonist, Mr. Bruce Ismay, is the one and only Nicolas Cage!"

Cage came out on stage, looking plastered, carrying a half empty bottle of Scotch. "Hey there!" he called out, staggering his way over join Bay.

"Your protagonist is Bruce Ismay? The chairman of White Star? Forever after considered a coward for getting off Titanic? That Bruce Ismay?" this reporter challenged.

"Yes, but this is what happens to him afterwards," Bay reasoned. "This is the story of the man who glimpses the Dutchman, realizes that somehow it caused the sinking, and kind of loses his senses and goes into a lifeboat to escape. And spends the rest of his life haunted by that choice. Literally. Because did I mention this is also a horror movie?" This reporter sighed (editor: horror movie is being subjected to this nonsense).

Bay continued on. "And our boy Bruce is haunted. He spends the years after Titanic trying to rationalize one dumb decision without saying why he made that decision, being seen as a coward... and literally being haunted by that night. Because whether it's when he's asleep or when he's awake, he's not only haunted by the ghosts of the Titanic, he's also haunted by images of that cursed sailing ship. Until he has to come to terms with it once and for all. Which will, of course, involve explosions."

"What is it with you and explosions?" another reporter asked. "Is it some kind of kink for you?"

"Yes, but that's not important," Bay stated. "What is important is that people love my films, they love the story of the Titanic, they love ghost stories, and they're going to love this film. Coming soon to a theatre near you! As soon as I get all the other stuff I'm working on done. Because I've got a lot on my plate. Bye!"

With that, he departed, to the applause of the entertainment reporters, and to middle fingers from the real reporters (editor: he is an insufferable egomaniac). This reporter can't agree more with that.

The Wrath Of An Easter Bunny

The Easter weekend is upon us, and I have an image blog for the occasion. Enjoy!