Tag Archives: World Cup

And About This….

11 Jun

Please, please, please fucking quit or at least take turns.

Totally fucking annoying. Makes watching a match about as fun as being pecked to death by chickens, ears first. Come on South Africa, we are trying here. Ease up on the death squad of pissed off wasps. Or get us all an aural Epi-Pen.

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Allez Les Bleus?

11 Jun

Veronique, very optimistic about her team's chance.

Grigio, the Italian Greyhound, remains pessimistic.

Hello! It’s World Cup opening day. If you are not from the US, you will know this sport as Football. If you are from the US, you most likely don’t realize that this is a sporting event. Ha, ha, yeah, whatever. Americans don’t like the soccer.

As I discussed it with my dear friend Pinecroft, he said, “you mean they game where they can only touch it with their feet? Except for the two guys that can? And everybody else that spends half the game using their hands to throw it back in to play?”

Yes. Point taken.

I am not here to debate the beautiful game, only to register my thoughts on the French team. I am not sure that I can state it any more succinctly than an announcer just did. “It’s as if you took a Rolls-Royce engine and dropped it in a golf cart.” That hurts. But the truth always does.

The French team has a whole shitload of trouble right now. The entire world hates them more than usual and even more than their press, which is remarkably hard to do. There’s a sex scandal, the coach that everyone loves to hate, and of course, the hand ball against Ireland. If you add all three together it should mean that they win the World Cup, because that’s just how France works. Kind of like us Americans, only with better bread. Rag tag team with no shot at all? Win. Best players money can buy and high hopes? Lose.

Right now we sit at the 66 minute mark of a nail-biting 0-0 game with Uruguay. No, really, if by nail-biting you mean, I’m going to chew off my hand if one of you fuckers don’t score soon. Nevermind. I love the coach. He just put in Gignac, the hottest player on the team. Got to go now!

UPDATE:

Damn. I just finished that Le Monde article that I linked to. That is some harsh shit right there, fuckers. First of all, a national paper calling your team the ‘black-blanc-beur’? Yeah, okay, I get it, you’re kind of dicks. You’re pissed that everyone on the team isn’t an Emmanuel Petit, or a Benoit, Lambert or even a Martin. Two words. Chad Ochocinco, you all can kiss my ass. Also, white French people running Le Monde, I am sorry that being white and French doesn’t automatically qualify you for your national team.

However, one salient point is the national anthem. I get this one, I really do. I understand if you choose not to sing it at home, you know, like before dinner or in the shower, but you are on the world fucking stage, sing the damn anthem. It’s not like your President called you scum or anything. Oh, wait. Right. Well, bygones and all that. At least do the chorus. Everybody knows that. No? Well here you go.

Aux armes, citoyens, To arms, citizens, Formez vos bataillons, Form your battalions, Marchons, marchonsĀ ! Let’s march, let’s march! Qu’un sang impur May an impure blood Abreuve nos sillonsĀ !

No one knows what that last part means anyway.

So, to close, here are the results of Le Monde’s online poll:

44.9% of French people think Les Bleus won’t make it out of the Group stage.

20.8% believe that they will be eliminated in the 8th final round.

14.7% think it’ll be in the quarter finals.

5.5% delusional French see them in the half final.

1.2% see them in the final.

13% are bat shit crazy and think they will win the Cup.

The analysis? 80.4% of the French polled are against them or have very little hope. Is there a more difficult country to play for? Probably not. So from one red, white and blue adorned fan to another, Allez Motherfuckers.