68th anniversary of D-Day? Or just William Wallace's birthday? Happy birthday, Bromance. He swears that the reason he's got my back is not that I've got a cute ass, and I tend to believe him; his cute ass is by no means the only reason I've got his.
It's a day so holy you have to go back to June 6, 2009 to find me saying anything substantive about it. But that's also because William Wallace has a cute ass.
Doody calls, though: BFF tells of last evening's DCU humbling by the aforementioned Chester club. Yeah, yeah. Another stupid one-goal loss in earlyish USOC going. This is like Harry Potter 6, you know what's coming. Sure, Benny's pissed, and it was a shabby effort. The club is neither as good as its record nor as bad as Beloved thinks it is on a bad night. It's been 10 days since they played, everyone's rusty, and they spent significant time at practice on penalty kicks--they fucking expected a close game of no particular repute. There's nothing to pore-bleed about here. It's just ordinary, annual self-fulfilling prophecy.
Which also describes the MNPPCC police presence. You can watch the (second) video in his linked post for the start of the story. Soon enough after the events of that video, Officer Weissmann, who steps into the picture at about 0:30 of the video, shows why she's not a county cop by trying to extinguish a burning flare with a half a bottle of Aquafina. That's a flare burning on aluminum bleachers. Non-flammable aluminum bleachers. You're a one-woman brain trust, Officer Weissmann (and I apologize if I've improperly spelled your last name).
Shortly thereafter, the po-po descended with a vengeance, with Officer Weissmann leading the charge in rifling through stray jackets laying on the bleachers. Officer Weissmann, who appears to be unaware of the Fourth Amendment and the concept of probable cause (which is unsurprising, given that she's a grim fascist twit who's probably been victimized by institutional misogyny in addition to her own feeble intellect), was soon rewarded with two (!) more unignited flares in some dumbass's jacket. Hilarity ensued. My phone takes crappy pics, but Planet got some good ones, because she's artsy and stuff.
The po-po dragged out the flag guy in the video, and some other dumbass. They stood the dangerous ruffians up along the perimeter fence and yammered at them for...well, until there were about four minutes left in extra time. Terrorist criminals punished by deprivation of the thing they paid to cheer. Justice done. Way to go, police state.
The scene was distracting, and the game mostly boring; during one of the many delays while some player or another lay upon the ground, nursing a thug-inflicted owie (the referee was incompetent and nowhere near in control of the game), I turned to the guy on the rail behind me and chatted quietly and calmly about the incompetence and jackbootedness of the MNPPCC cops, while looking in the direction of that clusterfuck. From 75 yards away, Officer Opie decided I was eyeballing him and calling him a fucktard (I was, by association, but not personally), and came over with a big shit-eating grin and his hand on his Sam Browne, asking if I was talking to him.
BFF is right that I was loud about the jackbootery, though it wasn't when Officer Opie decided I was nostrilling him, or what the fuckever. I do admit that I was shouting about the Fourth Amendment as Officer Weissmann and her little fascist companions drug out the supposed (but apparently not) criminals. Loudly. Repeatedly. They could not possibly not have heard me. I also took the trouble to toss my car keys to Ilse before I went over to about 40 feet away from the circle jerk of interrogationism to exercise my constitutional right to take some pictures of MNCPPC doing some undoubtedly fine police work.
So there you have it. Bloggy holiday, a birthday, one graf about a game, and five grafs about the stupid fucking MNCPPC po-po. Bout average for a USOC post, right?