Eurotrash at Play

So the World Cup comes down to four European teams in the semifinals as ginormous superpowers Handbagtina and Brazil bite the dust, both fairly ignominiously. And none of the teams left is England. I got nothin' here, kids.

England went down in a pool of its own vomit, on penalties, generating little offense and squandering what urgency it could muster after Wayne Rooney attempted to castrate some poor bastard with his cleats, then violate the ancient England-Portugal peace treaty to cover up his turds. Once it went to penalties, you knew England was doomed, especially when Sven sent up gloriously useless Frank Lampard to take the first kick. Jamie Carragher had the right idea, sneaking one past the Porto keeper before he was ready, but sadly for Albion, the ref was paying attention that time, and Carragher obligingly handed over the retry to the keeper.

Of course, the whole thing was a waste of time; nothing can stop the Portuguese from treating every game like the World High Dive championships.

The France-Brazil game was better--tight, taut, exciting, pleasing. Despite the teams involved. It's incredible that the geriatric French can keep this up, but then again, they were taking on the geriatric Brazilians. Friday's games shall never be spoken of here again. The Germans got the right outcome against the whinging sluts from Argentina, I managed not to drown in fury, and it's over and done with.

I am left with little focus for my partisan angst, and so I have decided to pull for one of the two best remaining matchups for the final: the Actual, For-True World High-Diving Championships. I look forward to joining all of you in watching in wonderment as the Italians and Portuguese spend 90 minutes trying to out-flop each other. Thrill to the beat as no fewer than 18 greasy prima donnas simultaneously writhe on the ground in badly faked indignant agony, leaving only their goalkeepers standing to punt the ball back and forth, and leaving us with no idea whom to support as these two clubs of cynical smut-peddlers flounce their way to glory.

Second best is the war grudgematch final. The problem here is that there's only one righteous outcome, and I don't like it, even though I picked the Germans to win on the strength of their home advantage before this thing started (I'm as clueless as anyone; I had them beating Brazil in the final). On the other hand, the one thing that's guaranteed about the winner of this year's tournament; I won't like them. Yes, yes, please contain your surprise.