The olympics are over, the hockey has been forgotten, the afterglow, not sustainable, a spring break beach party, after all. Which is what it always is. Something kind of embarrassing. Something a little bit fascist, a bit of a lie, disguising itself as the truth. I mean, I appreciate good times as much as the next guy but the hockey can last only minutes after you have come. Then, you want to go to sleep. Oh well. I still like this place, for all you sour puss assholes.