(Ed. Note: As the Stanley Cup Playoffs continue, we're bound to lose some friends along the journey. We've asked for these losers, gone but not forgotten, to be eulogized by the people who knew the teams best: The bloggers who hated them the most. Here are The Committed Indian Staff and Cieslak from HockeeNight.com, fondly recalling the 2013-14 St. Louis Blues. Again, this was not written by us. Also: This is a roast and you will be offended by it, so don't take it so seriously.)

By The Committed Indian Staff and Cieslak from HockeeNight.com

Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it—or in Ken Hitchcock's case, doomed to eat it.

We come here today to mourn the loss of the St. Louis Blues from the Stanley Cup playoffs. And by “mourn,” we mean feel the same sense of loss one gets when they no longer have a rash in a place you can't reach without a mirror.

Much like the late King Joffrey Baratheon, the Blues were an impure inbred. They were anointed to the throne before they accomplished anything, hated by all, loved by none and in their death, we were reminded why everyone hoped they choked on a cocktail of poison, saliva and rat turds (which is actually the second most popular dish in St. Louis, next to whatever three day-old trash Al Hrabosky’s is serving).

Let's review, shall we? In 2011, the Blues bit it to the Los Angeles Kings while scoring six goals in four games. They responded to this loss in the following offseason by picking up exactly no proven scorers, in the hopes that vermin-infested pylons like Chris Stewart, David Backes, Timothy Leif, and a dozen more could simply dry hump their way into more goals. Assuming they even know the games are decided by goals, which is at best, unclear.

We move on to the following spring, and the Blues performed their now patented move of going up 2-0 in a series over the defending champs before vomiting up stomach acids all over themselves for the next four games, scoring 10 goals in total. The Blues responded to this setback in the offseason and next by acquiring rotting elk corpse Brenden Morrow, jester smurf Derek Roy, syphilitic badger Steve Ott, toughest-man-alive-with-two-linesmen-holding-him Maxim Lapierre and re-signing dweller Ryan Reaves among other moves. This is akin to trying to improve your child's grades in English class by beating him about the face with a rolled up Penthouse.

(Coincidentally, this is also an AP course in St. Louis high schools.)

Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. What makes this even better is that coach Ken Hitchcock is a Civil War buff but apparently after all his research about The War Between The States, Hitch concluded that the South could have won if they'd only had “wanted it more” or “imposed themselves more” or “SANDPAPAERGRITHEARTFAAAAARRRRRT.”

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On the ice, that mentality is embodied by no one person more than captain David Backes. While anointed four years ago by the neutral public as somewhat of a folk hero prior to the Olympics for punching out members of Team Canada, Backes has been exalted by the St. Louis faithful for showing the FIRE and PASSION to win, despite winning absolutely nothing of substance in his NHL career.

Blues fans stand by the motto of, “Our captain can kick your captain’s ass” as if that actually means anything to anyone that isn’t face first into a bowl of disgusting toasted ravioli or has a 3rd grade education level. Neither of which can be found in St. Louis city limits.

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