So there's this, wherein my futbol club was embarassed mightily, at home, by a pack of passive-aggressive punkass bitches from a passive-aggressive city represented by about a hundred wingnut-class deluded and sartorially retarded passive-aggressive baristas who think that selling half the seats in a grid football field and covering the rest with tarps is called a sellout.
The fun started when said fucktards got all torqued because their venue lost the bidding for who got to host the game. They lost because they proposed a 1 PM weekday time for the game in their retard fish-frog stadium. They claim they lost because of politics. They are stark raving bugfuck. Hilarity ensued.
The fun ended when, in the wake of the fucktards' first goal, my club's retard fish-frog goalkeeper deliberately stomped on or near the prone body of sartorially retarded punkass bitch number 17, whose development arrested at about the age of 8. I must assert that it doesn't matter that our goalkeeper missed, or that number 17 deserved far worse; it was a wrongass thing to do, period. I thought there might be some hope when, with about 5 minutes left in regulation, with a righteous 7 minutes or so of stoppage time, the idiot baristas started taunting by singing "Goodbye." Our intermittently badass ganja anchor mid immediately slammed home a goal off of a free kick, but time ran out before DCU (down 2-1) could equalize.
I want nothing to detract from the fundamental message that my club sucked. They danced on the ball, they turned over the ball, their tactics were shite in the face of speedy opposition, and they didn't show the heart that I expect and deserve from them. Contrary to what this guy would have you believe, they were actually the better team for more of the game, but they couldn't convert because they were unwilling to direct the pelota toward the gol. That's sorta fatal.
Despite all of that, the crunchy baristas deserved to win. They scored more fucking goals. End of story. Congrats to them. They won a trophy. In about 30 years, when they've won eleven more, they'll have some basis for the amount of aggrieved fucking noise they make. Except they won't. Seattle FC can shove itself up its own city's rainy, dank, suicidal ass.
That's not all that makes me want to smear my eye sockets with dysenteric feces. There's also this thing about the New York Times spreading a rumor about a splashy Chelsea Clinton wedding extravaganza, then blaming the Internets and the Clinton family because no one (read: the New York Times) wanted to believe the denials. Shakesville says it right.
Finally, there's teabagger outrage over the President's planned address to our nation's schoolchildren next week. Some of the more clever wingnuts are pretending that it's about a suggested lesson plan accompanying the planned speech (one of the study questions/assignments in the suggested lesson plan was, indeed, effing stupid, as would be any teacher who taught to a suggested lesson plan without reviewing it and making sure it was age/grade/region-appropriate, but of course the remarkably dumb No Child Left Behind law has gotten rid of all of the teachers who are that lazy and ignorant--oh, wait, no it hasn't.). Except when they're not. Reagan, Bush, and Hoover (!) all took opportunities to speak directly to schoolchildren, which doesn't seem to be a problem for wingnut astroturfers. SN! links to Politico's pretty transparent attempt to flame the fans of outrage, which quotes one of my local county's school board members' feeble attempts to defend herself and the school board against lies propagated by malicious racist fuckwits.
So yeah, the shit-smeared punji sticks are looking pretty good.
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