The 2016-17 season is shaping up to be one of the worst seasons in a little over two decades for our beloved Detroit Red Wings. Since I have been human born onto planet earth, the Wings have never missed the playoffs.

Currently sitting at 25 years, it is the longest active playoff streak out of the NFL, MLB, NBA, and NHL by a long shot and it’s damn impressive. But if you were to put a gun to my head right at this moment and make me guess, with my life on the line, whether or not 2017 would mark year 26, I would hesitate and first contemplate whether or not I even live a life worth living, then I would probably air on the side of doubt.

Yes. As much as it pains me to say, I don’t believe the Wings have it in them this year to make the farewell season at the Joe a playoff season. (dramatically looks at self in mirror and reflects on what was just said)

Now. Why is this? Many will look at our inexperienced and under-talented defensemen and say they are to blame. Others will point the finger at the men in charge. Kenny Holland has sparked up too many dog-shit long-term (or dog-term long-shit) contracts to be successful. Or that HC Jeff Blashill can’t seem to handle the pressures of coaching in the NHL. Or if you want to just roll it into one big deep fried dump burrito and cover all of those options in one complaint and blame Jonathan Ericsson that’s another route to take.

But I’m here to tell everyone, while all of these gripes are strong, valid issues…it is not what we have this year that’s the issue, it’s what we don’t have…anymore.

The 2016-2017 season marks the first time since 1979, the Joe’s inaugural season, that the arena has not featured the nectar of the Hockey God’s, Molson XXX.

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Now, while what I told you was just completely made up in that I have no idea how long the Joe has had Molson XXX nor do I even know how long it’s even been a beer, I do know they used to have it, and now they don’t. And the Wings used to be playoff making connoisseurs, and now they are doing the last place no pants dance with the mother fucking Buffalo piss-shit Sabres.

Molson XXX, aka Gordie Howe’s Jock Sweat, was a gift from the Canadian Heavens and was a time-honored tradition that I devoutly honored at every Wings’ game I attended. Sure, it tasted like Joe Louis’ men’s bathroom trough run-off mixed with discarded cigarette butts, but it was 7.3% alcohol and it was the petroleum fueling the well oiled machine that was the Detroit Red Wings fan base.

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Molson XXX, the self described SUPER PREMIUM BEER had the power to turn any mild mannered Wings’ fan into an octopus tossing savage animal that picks fights with anyone and everyone around them not singing along to HEY, HEY HOCKEYTOWN. This beer had the power to miraculously get you kicked out before the National Anthem, yet swear it was the best time you’ve ever had at a Red Wings game.

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The least the Illitch’s could’ve done is honor this long serving member of the Red Wings by retiring its jersey in the rafters. And until they get that Canadian Imported Super Duper Premium Octopus Blood Ink Juice Serum back in the boys’ barn, we’re going to be scraping the bottom of the barrel, as opposed to lifting the cup. #LGRW