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.