The Czar is stymied by ‘Puter’s total lowering of his guard, especially knowing the Czar’s immense power at calling things early. It was the Czar, after all, who decided the Bulls were unworthy competitors to anyone but the Celtics, and then got tired of the post-Jordan Bulls again and so had them lose purely to send a barber-related message to Joakim Noah. Fear not, the Czar will see the Celtics humiliated anon as well.
But the Hawks? There are two possibilities for this total mispost by ‘Puter.
One is that GP is unaware of the passing of Bill Wirtz (whom the Volgi, with his mystical powers, personally sent to a strange Confucian hell in which his own son undermines everything he did to destroy a great Chicago franchise, and in return is doomed to see his son transform the team into a profitable and dominant powerhouse again), and how Bill Wirtz Jr. completely revamped every aspect of the team—except the uniforms—and is really turning the team around for the long-term in every meaningful way. Hmm. There is a bit of déjà vu in this paragraph. Whatever: point is, if this is the case, it makes ‘Puter wrong for the first time.
Or, ‘Puter’s account has been hacked into by a leftist anti-capitalist front for the sole purpose of antogonizing the Czar and your Volgi, thereby creating animosity between our ranks for the purpose of dividing and conquering…and no, the Czar has not ruled out a masterplan being carried out by alien conquerors who intend to overpower us and enslave us by taking us out through hockey. Given that ‘Puter is always right, this must assuredly be the case, and your Czar advises panic. Now.
However, to make things interesting, the Czar will accept a small wager between himself and ‘Puter, set to the same terms we established in Manila in 1885: if the Czar’s mighty Blaa-aaa-aack Hawks (a song written by Dick Marx, father of 80s sensation Richard Marx, by the way) outlast the ‘Puter-Caps (whom he secretly adores), then the Ghettoputer will of course send the Czar 15 platoons of Hessians, his youngest not-very-secret DNA-re-engineered megatherium, another lab assistant (the Czar, um, ruined his again), and that 1982 lime green Fiero the Czar coveted and was about to purchase but ‘Puter bought it out from under him and wrecked it in the driveway when he took the engine out and sold the body to a guy named Reggie.
In return, the deal goes, if ‘Puter-error <> TRUE, then the Czar will send his upstate colleague 45 casks of the banned wormwood absinthe (not that new synthetic crap), an old-timey Korean village complete with community ondol heating and crazy shouting shaman, a nude Greek guy with a sword, and a union leader with heart intact for ‘Puter to pluck out himself, providing he can find it.