Illustration by Rachel Cohen

[Ed. note: Jason Rogers offers his final pregamer of the year. Follow @PuckBuddys if you dare.]

As Boston’s Samuel Adams proclaimed to the city as he read the first draft of the Declaration of Independence from Independence Hall: “King George is a fah-kin’ bastahd, Go Sawx.” And thus from these auspicious beginnings bloomed the blue-collarest, working-classiest, chowdah-guzzlingest town in the country. Boston is a city that spurns academia in favor of arm wrestling, subtlety in favor of soup, and charisma in favor of crème pies. On Saturday, the Goon Squad known as the Bruins lurches into DC like a particularly undeveloped ape.

Last game of the season, folks; let’s go for one more ride. 

Morning Skate

Chances of an Looch-Ersk fight tonight? Unlikely.

The Caps have already locked up the Southeast Division tighter than the door to Bruce Boudreau’s home gym, so why should you care? Well, because there are two ways a team can enter the playoffs. The Caps can ease gingerly into the postseason like an old man into a warm bath, nursing their injured groins like an overzealous teen. Or, they can roar hell-bent into the playoffs like a lion with a sinful streak. As we’ve seen time and time again, it’s not how you start the season (thank God), it’s how you finish. Witness the eight-seeded LA Kings last year, who made mince meat out of the western conference like so much veggie burger. If the Caps take their foot off the pedal now, they may never put it back down, and the city of DC will be stuck in the mire like so much sequestered legislation.

Further, the Bruins are a team that the Caps may have to go through to get to the Stanley Cup finals. They are a conglomeration of goons, a congress of cronies, a gathering of doofii. That said, they have hockey talent. Their forwards are quick and their defensemen are large, and despite having a face like an Easter Island head, Milan Lucic is an intimidating force on the ice. As the adage goes, “to be the best, you have to beat the best,” and there’s a good chance that to charm Lord Stanley out of his Cup, the Caps may have to sing Sweet Caroline to distract the club from Boston.

That gives us as good a chance as any to transition to the segment Mahatma Gandhi called “the only true peace I have found in the world,”

LIABLE TO LIBEL: A Baker’s Dozen Lies About Today’s Opponent

1. 

   Yeeesh

   Milan Lucic takes a special potion that keeps him from turning into a werewolf under the full moon, but as you can tell, it has stopped working.

2. Zdeno Chara returns to the hills whence he came after every season, coming down to visit the townspeople only when he needs to resupply on whole cows and the blood of Englishmen.
3. Tuukka Rask was named after the sound his father made when struck in the solar plexus.
4. In the Bruins’ annual Speed Competition at the start of the season, Brad Marchard crossed the finish line second, losing only to his nose, which beat him by several seconds.
5. Tyler Seguin is a talented hockey player and a handsome scholar. #yeshomo
6. Jaromir Jagr remembers the fear and uncertainty he felt during the War of 1812.
7. After each home victory, the sprinklers in TD Garden spray a fine mist of clam chowder down from the rafters. This seafood glop smells only just better than the city of Boston outside.
8. Ted Kennedy was allowed to drive the Zamboni once during intermission. Once.
9. Bruins fans actually boo the TD Garden organ player at home games, crying “What’re you, some kinda artsy know-it-all or somethin’? You think you’re BETTER than us?” And then the fighting starts.
10. Jaromir Jagr has a photo of himself giving life lessons to Moses.
11. Rich Peverley only faked a swing at Braden Holtby last year to send the message that it’s not okay to make Rich Peverley look like a complete asshole.
12. Boston fans call their sports teams the B’s and C’s after the highest grades Boston children ever aspire to.
13. Black and yellow are great colors for a team named after a brown bear.

Puck Drop

Erat-a-tat-tat – I said it at the time and I’ll say it again: The Forsberg-Erat trade was a good one for the Caps. First of all, Filly Forsberg is utterly unproven in any meaningful sense. Sure, he was dominating – in the second-tier Swedish league, which I only assume is called the Sekondtieeresleaga. Secondly, how long have we been crying in Washington for some talent in our top two lines? BOOM. Marty Erat, Mr. Bashful Nashville, is proven like good calculus. He’s more consistent than a thick stew and does the quiet, crucial things than just flat out win games. Keep your eye on Erat. He wins battles in the corner, makes smart entries into the zone, and almost never gives up the puck going the other way. And don’t look now, but even with Brooks Laich giving more attention to his groin than a prepubescent chimp, the Capitals can still field two top lines of Ovechkin-Backstrom-Johansson, Erat-Ribeiro-Brouwer. That, as we say in the business, is not too bad.

Gotta Have Hart  –  Alex Ovechkin is secretly a trained Russian bear in a costume, taught to play hockey in a bunker in Siberia. That’s the only explanation for the way this guy is skating. Ovi is leading the league in goals with 32 markers, is a mere four points behind the Littlest St. Louis for the lead in points, and has emerged as the frontrunner to win both the “Rocket” Richard Trophy for most goals and the Hart Trophy as the league’s most valuable player. When making diplomatic concessions to my Crosby-gumming friends earlier this year, I would propose that who wins the Hart should come down to whether the trophy should go to the most outstanding player, or truly the player most valuable to his team. Now, those two criteria describe one man: Alex Ovechkin. He’s getting more good eats in the circle than a buffet in the round, and he is once again making opposing goalies tremble in their cups. Gird your loins, gentlemen. The Russian Machine is lubed up and ready to roll.

Two Minutes in the Rib Cage: Mike Ribeiro’s Penalties  -  Look, Mikey, we get it. You’re tough. You’re scrappier than your 65-pound frame suggests, and you’re a damn fine hockey player. Nevermind that guys like John Erskine could hold you at one arms-length while you flailed wildly with your fists. Nevermind that your baffling insistence upon low-slung hats in intermission interviews makes you look like you dipped out of Verizon Center for a jif to “meet a guy about a thing.” I don’t care about any of that. I care that you won’t shut up when you need to. The Capitals lost their last game against the Ottawa Senators because Mike Ribeiro took nearly back-to-back minors, the latter of which was fatal and put them on the penalty kill on overtime because you were a little irked. Ribs is a dynamic playmaker who has made the Capitals a better team this season. But to put your need for Foghorn Leghorn-like satisfaction above the team is unacceptable. If you run around provoking referees and looking for duels, eventually you’re going to run into Aaron Burr.

That about wraps it up, family. I will be at Verizon on Saturday to watch the puck drop at 7pm from the nosebleeds with my buddy from college and his girlfriend from Boston. I hope she leaves in tears.

And one last time this regular season, Go Caps.

It’s February 14. It’s not just some random day that the Hallmark corporation picked out of hat so they could sell greeting cards. It’s actually the Christian co-opting of a pagan festival all about horny werewolves and blood and copulation and cool stuff like that. Now, instead of lycanthropes and sex, you spend 30 dollars on roses that will wither tomorrow.

If you’re in a relationship, prepare to disappoint your significant other. If you’re not in a relationship, revel in your solitary despair.

(I’m single, by the way.)

Behind the jump is a lovely and full-sized picture by Rachel Cohen, featuring Dmitry Orlov, who scored last night and is handsome enough to probably do the same today. Also a video.

And if that was too nauseatingly sweet and wholesome, here’s the single greatest song written about this demented and sadistic holiday, “Feb 14″ by Drive-by Truckers.

Have a good day, everybody.

It’s time for your Puck Buddys pregame! Follow @PuckBuddys and adopt a dog.

The Pregame: Cartoonist Bill Griffith, who just this week turned 68, sees the overlooked and forgotten corners of America with blinding precision. We were reminded of this recently as we took a drive through portions of Pennsyltucky – clearly where the phrase “fat of the land” has great meaning – and its meth-addled capital, Pittsburgh. Or, borrowing from Zippy’s creator, Dingburg.

Previously we anointed Pittsburgh as the Epicenter of Suck. Following our travels, we can confidently proclaim that it has become, in fact, the Pinhead Center of the Universe. The gangrenous, foul-smelling trash pile of contemporary civilization. The trucker-stop, Thunderbird-guzzling, used baby diaper of cities. Imagine if Paul Verhoeven remade “Showgirls” today with the same cast and you’ve got Pittsburgh, only with less sexy and more elastic waistbands. It’s exactly that awful.

[Ed. Note. By Rachel Cohen: Sidney Crosby as sparkly vampire Edward Cullen from the Twilight movie series, which Ian has totally seen. Click to embiggen.]

Which led us to a game, mostly to keep our tenuous grip on reality while speeding away: what would you rename Pittsburgh, if you could? Crapburg. Herpesburg. Fraudburg. (We already know former Coach Gabby’s choice.) To wit, we announce a new contest: #renamePittsburgh. Best answer in the next 24 hours, as determined by someone, will get a drink on the PuckBuddys’ dime. Or, if you prefer, we’ll go bother someone else. (Haha, it doesn’t matter as we’re going to stiff RMNB with the bill!)

Fun and games aside, it’s nearly time for

The Puck Drop

Why does that phrase – the puck drop – feel like the plopping of cyanide pellets into sulfuric acid these days? Oh that’s right, two shutouts in the last three games. (Well, I guess the Habs were a shutout, too – a good one – so that’s 3 for 3.) The Caps’ play in Raleigh was sloppy at best, and downright amateur at moments (we’ll get to the good stuff in a minute.) This while the Pens, frankly not playing that much better and hobbled of late, were still able to dash out a 5-4 OT victory with a Malkin zapper. Several Malkin zappers, actually. It just needs to be said: F you, Geno. #Goonburg.

What Makes Them Hot and Not

Dan Bylsma

1: Heal! Whatever snake handler or psychic surgeon Coach Douche-hat has been bringing in lately, I say sign that puppy up! Letang, Neal, Martin, Adams, Jeffrey; holy cow, what sort of magic pellets are they feeding them up there in Fat Town? Sure, Crosby’s heading to a chiropractic neurologist (i.e., snake handler with a degree) to help him get his head back tight, and model-boy Jordan “Jordache” Staal remains benched, too; as might Arron Asham, who, frankly, could sit on his ass until the sun refuses to shine and we still wouldn’t be happy. (And as evidenced by the recall of Jason Williams from Wilkes-Barres/Scranton (23 points with WBS), they’re not coming back soon.) So: hot and not. #Ashholeburg.

2: Tang! But it doesn’t really matter, does it, the way some of these guys are playing? Evgeny Malkin (25G/30A, plus-9) is playing in demigod tier, and Dustin Jeffrey (2G/1A in just 12 games) was on fire playing the Habs Friday, with Drag-Name-Worthy Deryk Engelland, U.P. strapling Tyler Kennedy and the ever-infuriating Kris Letang (4G/18A, plus-9) not far off. In fact, collectively they remind us a bit of that powdery sugar-slush “Tang!” that astronauts used to drink before they started wearing Depends or whatever. Each year you’d think it would go out of business, and each year, there it would be again, looking and tasting all wrong but somehow working. Together the Tang boys have snapped the Pens out of their slide. #Fakeburg.

3: Who Needs Fake When You Got Fresh Squeezed? And whoopie-doo, breaking news, the Pens have some players who know how to find the twine. Did you also hear: there’s this thing called Limewire, and you can download all kinds of stuff there? Kyool, huh? Ugh, we go through this every time. In fact, #BarfBurg puts us through this every game, and the result – judging by a good statistical sampling – remains the same. This is a moment that calls out the best – and the beast – in the Capitals. Here’s who’s genuinely hot: Tomáš Vokoun, Troy Brouwer, Marcus Johansson, Mathieu Perrault (who needs an easier name to spell,) wee Dmitry Orlov…shall I keep going? Wideman, Semin, Halpy, Ward and some fella named Ovechkin. True, Brooksie and Knooooobs have been just cheated recently; but these are exactly the guys who define how deep this team can dig when called on. No Tang! here – these guys are authentic.

Prediction

We have several. First: at least one person will acquire a venereal disease while at CONSOL. Two: the NBC announcing team will dive nose-first into the #Dipsburg tank and moan and cry about how lame the Capitals are compared to the fierce braze knights and firm buttocks of the Penguins. And C: the Washington Capitals will defeat the Pittsburgh Penguins in their home barn.

Meme of the Day:

We issued a challenge, oh faithful users of the Russian Machine, to create Caps-themed Christmas cards. The only rule: use an inferior graphics program or blingee.com to make it.

What we avoided telling you — just like my parents who took 14 years to come clean to me about the whole Santa thing (he IS real) — was that we didn’t have to follow the same rules. Above, is our holiday card by RMNB’s house illustrator, Rachel Cohen.

Meanwhile, you guys rocked this assignment harder than a Dmitry Orlov hip check. Though, to be honest, some of these submissions might land you on Santa’s naughty list once I post this. I apologize beforehand. Cruise on past the jump to check out the gallery and see what I mean.

First, the mega-talented Josh Wilcox (a must-follow on Twitter @thatwilcoxguy) shows us that while adults might find Ovi’s gap-toothed smile endearing, babies are terrified by it.

Stephanie Carosa’s (@carrotbazooka on Twitter) card tells that the Caps’ Swedes celebrate Christmas too. In a weird, Charles Schultz-y way. And with an easy-to-build tree from IKEA designed by European artist SINTERKLAAS.

Brendan Sheridan (@MD_DC on Twitter) shows us who’s really running things in DC. Click on it to take a closer look. The players look SO conniving!

The @KnublesKnights Xmas “card” is a crystal-clear sign of mental illness.

Beyond this card being cute and well done, I also must applaud Kathryn Tighe for making Karl Alzner the Santa here. While he’s neither the captain or a leading scorer, he can grow the best beard. It just makes sense for him to be Saint Nick. Also, while we’re talking about it, please like our Facebook fan page dedicated to Alzner’s beard.

Michele Hopper shows off her entire family of Caps fans. I want to high-five you all.

Shockingly, HolidayBlues.tumblr.com was the only person to send us a JibJab video this year. Though this one is particularly funny with Ovi’s face the way it is. Check it out to see what I mean!

Via Molly Yanchulis, we have Ovechkin in the manger scene! I can only imagine, his first words to baby Jesus were “ahaha best))))))”

After fat-gate over the summer (and really, in hindsight, how freaking stupid was that?), Miranda Kerr jokingly believes that Ovi would rather have the McDonalds’ buffet than lead the NHL in goals.

@Hockey_Fan_10 wants to wish us all a Merry Capsmas.

Let’s all thank @Caps_Girl for giving Mike Green and Ovechkin such seductive poses here.

RMNB readers Brooks L. and Joel W. would like to wish you guys a Merry Christmas. Though it takes them forever to spit it out.

RMNB reader Elizabeth Seuss re-writes the 12 Days of Christmas for Caps fans.

Eve R. gives more free advertisement on our site for Rosetta Stone. Remember guys, Ted Leonsis isn’t just an owner, he’s a customer too!

Who needs Robin when you can have Brooks Laich? Nice job, Richard Skelton!

This may not be Caps or Christmas related, but Don Cherry’s piano desk cracks me up. Thanks for sending it over, @skylarmoonbeam!

All Kellie S. wants for Christmas is Braden Holtby to be the starting goaltender.

Finally, my personal gift to you guys, which I’ve re-gifted from Jack Anderson: The 12 Days of Jeanneret. For those of you who don’t know, Rick Jeanneret is the play-by-play guy for the Sabres. Beyond Joe B and Mike Emrick, there’s no better announcer in the NHL. A few years ago, XM Radio posted this song to celebrate some of his more brilliant and uh… eccentric calls during his career. RIGHT WHERE MOMMA HIDES THE COOKIES. With the Capitals playing Buffalo on Monday, it seemed apropos. Enjoy!

One more? Okay! Why not? Let’s close with one last card from our uber-talented illustrator Rachel Cohen.

Welp, Merry Christmas, you guys! Let us know which cards you like most in the comments below. And have a safe and wonderful holiday.

When I’m not illustrating, I sew things! Lots of my sewing work is costuming, but I sometimes make “normal” clothing and– most recently– plushies.

After I drew the design for the Alexander Semin “Sasha Cares” t-shirt, my mother gave me an excellent idea: “Why don’t you sew a real one?”

Drafting patterns is not my specialty, so to start I managed to get my hands on a vintage Care Bears “Wish Bear” plush pattern from 1983. So glad I didn’t try to make my own pattern—The one I bought had 20 different pieces to it, each with lots of little darts and seams and details.

The pattern itself was pretty straightforward, the only differences being the color scheme, and the appliqué details on the stomach, back, and face.

The shooting star on Wish Bear’s belly was now the silhouette of a Weagle. And to make sure people knew it was Sasha, I added his number to the back. They were both sewn on by hand. The shapes were too complicated to stitch by machine. Appliquéing by hand was tedious, but worth the result.

The hardest part of the plush was getting the face right after the whole body had been constructed and stuffed, especially the eyes. It took many trials to get them to look the way I wanted to. They differ from the original drawing, since the look of the eyes on the drawing did not translate to 3D as well as they do in just a flat illustration. The eyes and nose are hand-appliquéd fabric. The rest of the details (i.e. the eyebrows, mouth, and freckle-like dots) in the face were embroidered by hand with heavy-duty perle cotton thread.

After finishing the face, I gave Sasha Bear some hair and a signature obnoxious gold chain. And voilá! Alex Semin cared so much… He became a Care Bear. Sasha Bear is made entirely of fleece, and is super soft and cuddly!! You judge for yourself.

Will I ever make another Sasha Bear? Unless the man himself asks for one, NOPE. But this was a fun project to sew and who knows? There’s a pattern for a Care Bear Sheep out there. Maybe Sasha Bear will some day get his best pal to keep him company.

Sneaking some Junior Mints in my cargo shorts cause ain’t no way I’m paying $8.50 for Junior Mints.

Trailer!

But because the memory of the hockey season has not yet faded, we had to find some way to tie this back to the Washington Capitals. Can you guess what we came up with?

RACHEL COHEN FOR THE WIN!

And here’s your DVD extras.

Art by Bryan Hitch from The Ultimates, Vol. II

ASSEMBLE!

Inspired by Alex Ovechkin’s exuberant celebration after his OTGWG against Buffalo, resident RMNB artist Rachel Cohen decided to do us all a huge favor and capture Ovi’s nifty dance moves in her latest illustration above. Cohen, a sophomore illustration major at the University of Hartford, initially sketched the idea out by hand. Once completed, she then scanned it directly into Photoshop and then coloured it in using the vector pen tool. Eight hours and a bottle of theraflu later (the changing of the seasons have been getting to her), she was done! Pretty incredible work if you ask me. Make sure to view the rest of her online portfolio here and leave her your thoughts on The Ovechdance in the comments below. Great job, Rachel!

Additional reporting by Ian Oland.

Splendid.

Since we at Russian Machine are totals nerds for comics, we thought we’d play, too. Penciled by resident artist Rachel Cohen and inked & colored by Ian Oland, we have created our own version of The Capital– your lame, crass and tokenistic, D.C.-themed superhero™ guardian.

Embiggen it or just get the t-shirt.

The Capital’s past is entangled with the labyrinthine bureaucracies that erupt like cystic acne within the beltway. Following an incident involving befouled coffee at the Internal Revenue Service, The Capital was released from his duties with the government. He now uses his astonishing powers to paralyze legislative progress and regional traffic alike.

The Capital has enchanted season tickets to the Redskins, but he has not attended a game since 2004. A white, upper-class septuagenarian from Chevy Chase, he nonetheless considers himself an authentic representation of the Chocolate City. One-upping even the most strident politicians, he literally drapes himself in the Constitution. He wields the uncomfortably phallic Washington Monument Sword, forged from the finest marble and presidential teeth shavings available. He has GERD and drives a Prius. His goggles enable him to fire his legendary Optic Nepotism Blasts, which famously got his nephew a cushy gig at Northrop Grumman. His E-Z Pass has an infinite balance, and his smartphone holster is indestructible.

Day or night, you can find the Capital patrolling the tri-state area in search of crime. When crime cannot be found, he uses his powers to lecture those people who are on the left side of Metro escalators but stand still while you’re late for something.

There you have it. RMNB’s old white dude with gridlock powers versus Stan Lee’s 7-foot-tall, flying eagle monster with razor-sharp talons. Who’d win in a fight?