You’re not allowed to blame George McPhee for the Washington Capitals’ midseason malaise. Well, you can. But it won’t do any good. Silly Cap fan, you know Ted Leonsis doesn’t hire general managers; he appoints Supreme Court justices. McPhee already outlasted a pope; Ruth Bader Ginsberg has no shot.

You can’t blame Adam Oates either. His first NHL coaching job was to change Dale Hunter’s bump-and-grinders back into Dutch speedskaters who could score like Gretzky. The only problem was he had about a week before this hideously played, 48-games-in-99-nights’ season started. Plus, who blames any first-year coach nicknamed “Oatsie?”

Alexander Semin, forever everyone’s favorite Cap to pick on, is also off the hook — because Sasha just scored three points for Carolina the other night against the Devils and returns to Verizon Center finally absolved of being the root of all hockey evil in Washington.

That leaves No. 8 by his lonesome. It’s all Alex Ovechkin’s fault, right? It’s Ovi’s fault, now and forever.

Call him “Loafechkin,” like some angry anonymous poster the other day. Say he’s a disgrace to the game at 27 years old, that he’ll never win the Hart Trophy again and his 13-year, $124 million contract could end up being essentially Arenas on Ice for Leonsis. Say he is a dum-dum with low hockey IQ, like the puckhead radio guy in Canada.

Add that he frequently plays like he doesn’t care and say he, to again quote the disenchanted among the fan base, “is mentally lazy, childish and a prima donna of a bum.”

Don’t let facts get in the way of slamming Ovi.