6 June 2014

In Which I Warm to the Subject of the 2014 World Cup

Were some people speaking a language I did not understand a fucking word of as the Hammer and I passed them by in the park. Teenagers. More than a dozen of them. Teenage motherfucking gang. Probably, in my fucking town, a Christian gang. The most diabolical and unpredictably dangerous motherfucking kind.

Only languages I have any grasp of are English, the world's best language, Spanish and the world's worst language: French.

As one of the boys broke from the gang to chase after the soccer ball foreign people are forever kicking the way Canadians kick fucking governments came near my dog and I I asked him, "What fucking language is it you guys are speaking?"

"Portuguese," he informed me.

"Oh," I said disapprovingly.

From Brazil. Not Geezers.

Of course their girlfriends had cans bigger than Oprah's.

Motherfuckers got it made in the Canadian shade.

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