The streets of downtown Montreal are covered in riots. I can hear police sirens, cars honking, I can hear screaming and yelling. Exuberance is the night. I see police cars in flames, police officers attacked, live on the television in my home.

Usually I would cheer, as these are some of the finer things in life. The people going out and taking a stand. Except tonight, the people are not taking a stand. They are out because five other people used wooden sticks to make a round black disk go into a small net. The people are not protesting. They are not showing their power. They are showing the power they could have, and what they would do with it. Running in a frenzy, whipped up in masses, releasing their confused blur of emotions. All for nothing. Hope lies not in the proles. They are dumb and I am numb. I may never have the honor of jumping on top of a police car, but if I ever do, I know it will be for a reason.

And I can't look down upon some good oldfashioned rioting. I can't look down upon a simple man, a simple sports fan. But hearing this uproar in my street, feeling this excitement, seeing this defiance, I cannot help but wish it was for something. That it was because of something. Something other than a god damned game. I will see you all tomorrow, when all goes back to normal, and nothing was changed.

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