I'm not sure how Minions spent the weekend taking a right turn into cheesecake, but it did. Apologies to my feminist readers who have some problem with me thinking some women are hot and maybe wanting to objectify them (in a purely egalitarian, caring deeply about Their orgasms sort of way). Apologies to my homosexual readers who may feel discriminated against. Apologies also to Yoko Matsugane, Sarah Silverman, and Christy the Naked Cheerleader, for getting their hopes up before so casually dumping them. I'm sure the pain is brimstonish, the odor searing.
What the hell? It happened again, for like a whole paragraph. And the title. WTF? Who writes this shit? Sorry. The purpose of this post has nothing to do with any of the foregoing. It has to do with DC United.
Read here. As usual, bDr says it better than I could (I beat him to it once; big freakin' deal, he's still the king). As usual, I argue with him in the comments about the few bits where he doesn't, or where he just went wrong (he's not mean enough to Josh Gros, he didn't thank Ba'al enough for Troy Perkins, he hasn't figured out that the Christian Gomez dressing for DCU games is a corpse (although he admits there's something wrong), and he totally missed the significance of Justin Moose's sparky but defensively frightening first half and Tom Soehn's associated admission of a dire coaching fuckup by pulling Moose at halftime and reorienting his midfield to better throw a wet blanket on dangerous bitchboy Jonathan Bornstein.
A point I'm not sure bDr has articulated, but if he didn't he should have because it's his point:
Between the games of the last week and the upcoming road game against FC Expandomatic, DCU has had nine points on the table after their disastrous opening (wherein they coughed up nine points to other teams). After the draw against the Ning the Merciless, that dropped to seven potential points--Seven of Nine. Get it? Right. No more cheesecake. My bad, totally.
DCU did what it had to do yesterday, despite the best efforts of certain defenders to snatch disaster from the jaws of a Borg-like triumph (while we're on the topic). A win in Toronto in two weeks is just as mandatory if the team is to make a graceful recovery from its fuckawful, pointless start; unlike the gasping, damn-near-dead Star Trek franchise, it needs seven of nine.
Prediction Corner: So look for Lefty the Poacher to score his first couple of expando-goals that afternoon (/bDr).
The Cross Not Christian but Gracious
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