Hmm. It's been a while since I said anything about United in this space, and BFF is too busy to hatchet, and apparently suicidal, and uncharacteristically maudlin to boot (dittos, fuck your calendar, and there's some Dead that's still very hard for me to listen to, for...holy fucking shit! Fifteen years next week? Uhm...time flies when you're off drugs, and I'm really old. Jeebus.). Others are appropriately rantful, but only in a general way, and in my humble view, should've throw out the bathwater some time ago. Other bloggers certainly have, occasionally inflicting collateral damage in the process. Okay, fine, it wasn't collateral. It was more like an intervention. That I enjoyed. Inappropriately. Whatever.
Last night highlighted shit I've been ranting about all year. The only good news was that my boyfriend's back. That's also part of the bad news--as unreconstructably gay as I am for Marc Burch, he's in the game because he's not Jordan Graye (who, as previously noted, has issues). Other stuff? Look, we've gone around about Kasper and Payne. Of course they're dicks, and of course they're going to keep mouthing utter shite to keep us looking at the teevee, and to keep us in our seats. But.
Who's letting Tino Quaranta take free kicks? Who took out a defender against a blindingly fast team to put in...Our (Extremely Slow and Rickety) Lord and Savior Jaime Moreno? Who just now got around to starting his designated player in a league game? Who's still fucking playing two holding midfielders, as if that will offset a back line so slow that slugs beat it home?
Who's playing the defensive line so high that a geriatric cripple like Carey Talley has no chance to get back to defend Robbie Findley? Appallingly, in the 60-minute interview on Comcast, the irredeemable fucking moron Curt Onalfo explicitly threw the back line under the bus on this issue, claiming with breathtaking chutzpah that "the line didn't get back fast enough from playing so high." Wow. I'm sure they do that entirely on their own, you meretricious piece of diseased shit. Fuck off and die, Onalfo, you lying sack of pus. So you had to put Talley out there. Don't play him high, you fucking retard. I mean seriously, Onalfo, you're fucking retarded, an actual mental defective except when it comes to attempting to come up with ways to avoid blame for your own fucking impotence. Go the fuck away.
Onalfo also blamed the first goal on Saborio being offside. He wasn't. In fact, he wasn't really anywhere near offside. The second goal was closer, and it wasn't properly callable. In fact, the only thing I noticed the ref screwing up egregiously was his failure to hand Chris Wingert a second yellow card on a dangerous, cynical foul at the 18, but in the rain, at Rio Tinto, given United's inability to defend (other than to throw exhaustion-limped wrists into the air to pathetically whimper for offside calls), does that matter? No.
Allsop's a clown, Quaranta's a jackass, Talley was for shit, and in retrospect, it's sure hard to believe that we were happy Perkins returned, but I suppose we can be forgiven that, in our addled state of Wellsian Wickishness. Injuries are unfortunate, but really? Just go the fuck away, Curt Onalfo. We've got useful players on this team, and the ones who aren't hurt deserve better than a fucking mongoloid like you.
The Accounting Beyond the Account
1 day ago