Ah, finally the nation-building torn apart by political scandals, troubled by the divorce of billionaire psicopremier, frightened by the batter to a well-known bank executive, divided even on the occasion of his own unit, he finds himself at a table in the bar between a cap and a blonde media, combined with the discussion on the popular Word, the true backbone of the country: the convening of Marcello Lippi for the national team in preparation for the World Cup. Thank goodness. Mario and I are concerned about a lot of trivia. We can now focus on this white-haired gentleman, Tuscan (and this is aggravating), who cordially pockets a shameless amount of millions of public money effectively and equally cordially Just fuck who asked under what logic did you choose this player (Gattuso, Camoranesi, Iaquinta) instead of that other player (Balotelli, Cassano, Miccoli).
Let me clarify: I find funny commercials from Gattuso, Balotelli I find it funny ... Well nothing. For the rest I do not give a shit. At the bar, however, with my cold spotted close between the fingers and the latest copy of Wired leaning on the counter, look at it. For a long time.
long look, as in Turin, the applicant morning conversation of two gentlemen in suits and ties, officials certainly (given also the BMW parked in two rows) of the adjacent bank, which spuciazzando the croissant into the cup, courtly converse on the assumption that "Zaccheroni did not understand a shit" (text, bonjour finesse ). Next to an old supporter assume grenade, sour and unbearably nasal voice, barks instead for the pleasure of the ears of everyone, including my poor tortured, "we played badly" (but which were in the field, too?) " boys did not give everything "(question to raise funds from the parish?), and so with this tone, with the inevitable reference to" the Juve assholes "(the two officers mentioned above, nda). I finish the coffee and go out and get some 'fresh air.
I think of that old school friend, which I already wrote here that I recently met again after twenty years which, as first thing after the "how are you", he considered me a good taste jokes on Juve who have just lost some kind of game (and to me what the fuck do I care, Oh well, transeat ). I think of that one, plus the person of sharp intellect and culture, instead of Facebook chat on various amenities or arguments a little more full (I know, Comparative Biology of the scrotum in rodents, tnato to cite something more meaningful football) I found online that I think of my cock and also makes me a jokes on Juve has lost perhaps re- What other game. Which leads me to two conclusions, a town typically, greater: A) the fans are people of Toro shit (yes I know, I'm sorry the truth hurts), B) all other football fans are practically Similar to the fans del Toro (so you're all happy). Mario
this thing football has never understood. The bones of the back patting comfort, courage, me neither understand it, and say that (despite myself) I've worked on every day for at least two years, when I manage the channel's sports newspaper in my hometown on the web - in the days of so-called Calciopoli: that I get it. A team has been working with various means to get rid of three or four, building a first place in the standings, then sent one of his employees to the Presidency of the League of this sport and he allegedly made to deliver the championship. Meanwhile, the team that is talking in nicely with the other umpires and executives at the table to indicate what should happen and for whom. For at least four years, this topic is more current and following earthquakes and humanitarian ermergenze. There is a gentleman
Portuguese that would be driven from any restaurant of good taste in his manner inurbani, which receives millions of money (public too, because it derives from the sale of tires and gasoline for the cars that are all more or less forced to buy salty and pay ) sfanculare for anyone who makes a claim in public. Furthermore, it is on par with idiots journalist card (the one thing that they give you if you are truly a poor fool with a friend who is already a journalist, author's note), which we feel a masochistic pleasure in sending him questions and get stupid fuck (it's decent, after all, going to take pictures of porn star).
There's a guy who married in Rome (with pomp national) joyful goose harvest in a TV program for decerebration, idolized by the middle of the national population, whose hobby is kicking people and sputazzare in the face to those who pass by. Probably like so much because of that - who would not want to break an ankle neighbor who cuts the grass at 8 am on Saturday, or spit in the face of the desk next to my colleague who does a cock from morning to night? We end up in court, give to this gentleman (and ridà gli) € millions more.
There are people under the intake of alcohol, drugs go to the stadium to curse, beat other people do not always such deterioration, launch scooters down from the stands, threaten this and that, praise the Mafia, the Serbian war criminals, and so on.
There's a guy in Switzerland (and even this is an aggravating factor) that after seeing the French go to the World Cup thanks to a goal scored by hand, says that's okay. It 'the same guy who for better or worse for twenty years to decide who passes his desk shifts of the same World Cup (Korea tells you anything?), But he's okay, and you too. Had believed in Santa Claus than in football, you might meet a little bit.
There is a system of money (yours, stupid!) Who decides and adjusts each year see the end of the championship games for which you pay money you have earned and remove from the installment the loan or the pizza, which end up as it suits one or the other. Have you recently saw the culmination of human intelligence, fans of Roman team that threaten his players to lose in order to indirectly damage the other team in Rome (football is stupid, but the diatribes from Derby are the worst shameful insults intelligence, at least to my and that of those who still have it).
I could dwell with dozens of other examples, we all know, and that they are unnecessary. This is basically an activity thugs, that perhaps a time (before the war) could also be associated with the idea of \u200b\u200bsport, not the present day, may work at the "competitive" (ie being paid to do a fuck) anyone knows how to run and breath either to others or kicking a ball - in short, anyone in the country. And indeed it does anyone - we have the national, the National not to be national, the national team of singers, the national politicians, the national journalists (there kicks are justified), the National poulterers of Stracciari ee of ruzzolamerde. And all paid to watch these hordes of people scurrying about in their underwear on a lawn, and maybe do not bring your child to racing him, on a lawn on Sunday.
I am concerned, my child, that no matter how small you are interested in this pseudo-sport activities hooliganism, stimulated by other children already prey dell'encefalogramma dish (probably repressed by the ego driven and motivated by parents as decerebration). Oratory just a soccer ball and hear kids rattle off decades of curses port under the eyes of conniving pastor (after all there's the game with another parish to win, let's agree, no expulsion at first " Porco do ***", warning - and you think, if not after a quarter of an hour there are only goalkeepers) and breaking his leg kicks as may happen in the hour air search for any self-respecting. Poor children rounded up like sheep in "school-football" (the term is a contradiction in itself, in a school you learn things you need to grow and become a better man tomorrow, better today not a jerk), and they are taught to lie, insult, pretend, simulate. As parents during the games then you spit in my face and menano in the gallery.
Do not believe us? Go to the website of the Football Federation, and read the disqualification and reasons for, the minor leagues for amateur and youth. You will see lawyers and priests, presidents of companies with names of saints, disqualified for weeks and months for blasphemy, assault and referee fights. Kids of 16 years suspended for weeks and months to be entered per game over opponents in the locker room, except to say "we're going to make us a pizza" (as we did, at least when you fiddle as a child in summer the sea between friends), but filled with kicks and blows another sixteen guilty of having made a goal or two. It 's all true. Open your fucking eyes. And then send you the following children still at school to make the football league if you have the balls.
I hope I can motivate my son, who has not yet 5 years and does not have a parent decerebration, to engage in any other activity, which is very casual: one that serves a real talent, precision, attention, and teach compliance and fraud. I know I'm an idealist: I still believe that there are basketball and baseball.
But the thing that worries me most is the people around me: you like this shit.
decisions in my apartment building, the activities in my office, the decisions in my country are made by folks who slams his balls what is the country itself, its natural and human resources, education, welfare , common sense, does not budge for those who are starving or being beaten at the station, for those who steal or kill a family driving drunk and is not even a day in jail - but it shows and collections (for real money!) to maintain a level of shit that falls apart for decades because one day many years ago we played his favorite team. People who Sbrocca for a ball and a colorful striped shirt (or plain, which is the same).
I hope that one day tirerete head out the ass, who come to your senses, perhaps taking a crowbar in the head or a bullet from another idiot but unlike you turn armed and did not appreciate that you took the piss out of his team. But do not do it.
Then I ask because I hate football.
I will explain, because they taught me and be polite and civil. I believe that animals born ignorant, not a fault, but still be ignorant beasts as adults it is.
When I hear this shit and call me in case I say, "I hate football."
actually hate you.
[Credit for the cartoon used: here the original page]
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