Dear Alexander Ovechkin
What can I say about you, Alexander Ovechkin, that I haven't said already?
Let's see, you stole my underage girlfriend and I demanded her back. Thanks again, Alex. I'm done with her now. If you want her, you can pick her up. I left her in that Hobo facilitated garbage can fire somewhere in the Bronx. Roasted Toasted and Burnt to a crisp.
I impregnated all of your sisters. I didn't wine and dine those bitches either. I RAPED them. You can't even get mad at me for that one though. If I didn't fill their vaginas up with my sperm, your dad would have beaten me to it.
I insinuated that you had a deformed dick, a horrible side effect of eating dirt around the Chernobyl nuclear waste site. I also accused you of jerking that deformed dick while watching my team practice.
That's all pretty horrible stuff. But now? Oh boy, do I have something good or what? A simple wikipedia search led me to this gem.
Your brother Sergei....drum roll please.... DIED in a car accident when you were ten!
SUCKER!!!!! You don't have a brother! You don't have a brother! You know why?
Because HE'S FUCKING DEAD!
WHOOOOOOAAAAAA BOY IS THAT HYSTERICAL OR WHAT!
In light of knowing that you have a dead brother, I have something planned for tonight. During the entirety of tonight's game, including the intermissions, Rangers fans will continually chant "Sergei" in a mocking way. Each Rangers player will wear the number 10 with Sergei written on the back. We're wearing ten because that's the age you were when your precious Sergei died! I'm even wheeling out a tiny coffin which could fit a dead pre-adolescent boy named Sergei in it and we're taking practice shots at it in the pregame warmups. It may be a real coffin with a dead pre-adolescent boy named Sergei in it, it may not. Wouldn't you like to know? See you later, you Cunt-eyed Russkie.