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8 Games.

July 1, 2010

So I’m fairing pretty well in the twilight that is the two day break between the Group of Sixteen games and the Quarterfinals. They’re called Quarterfinals, cause there’s four of them, after that it’s Semifinals, but I don’t think semi means half, or two, it just means partial. Its early, not really, but I wrote that for myself. Anyways, there’s seven real games left, and one third place playoff, which is totally conciliatory, cause seriously, who were the last three third place teams in the world cup? No one can answer that question, not even the Answer, who is either Allen Iverson, or Die Antwoord, depending on where you live. PS I have tickets to Die Antwoord in late July, hope Yo-Landi likes Diamonds and Champagne, cause that’s the flavor of incense I bought her. Shit, the coffee is just now turning on the part of my brain that makes sense.
The stupid thing is I have yesterday and today off, and those are the two days there’s no games. The rest of this month I’ve been struggling to catch all the games however I can, even watching them on my iPhone MobiTV app while driving, sorry to all those people I ran over. Now I have nothing to wake up for other than the coffee and Chinese pastries that keep me going and slightly fat. I learned yesterday how to say thank you, Shi Shi. I’m not sure how you spell it, but that’s how its sounds. One nice thing is New York finally decided to be livable temperature wise. I swear that it has felt like someone was chasing me with a hair dryer for the last week, and we all know that’s my greatest fear. I should erase this. But at night its even cool, bordering cold. I have to use blankets, and the breeze blows cool across my abdomen raising the the skin tight across my six pack… Sorry sometimes I have weather induced bouts of Erotic Literature Tourettes. But its nice, feels like I’m camping.
The point of me blogging this AM, I should say bloggin, make it urban, is that I wanted to mention how fun watching matches when there’s a backstory, politically, historically, or geographically, which for the most part is over, but there’s still a few opportunities. For instance if Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay and Uruguay win, all the teams left are from the South American continent. Spain plays Paraguay, which is its former colony, which I think isn’t really a factor, but earlier in the cup, it was nice to see Mexico trounce France when you consider that Napoleon invaded Mexico, I think twice. When Senegal beat France in I think, 2002, it became a national holiday for post-colonial reasons. Brazil and Portugal obviously also have this degree of edge, although I think they don’t have too many hard feelings. If England would have beat Germany, they would’ve played Argentina, which they used to fight a war with over the essentially worthless Falkland Islands, but the feelings are still there, and this is only stoked by Maradona’s “Hand of God” play from his hand scored goal in the 86 Cup. If Paraguay somehow beats Spain, which is unlikely, Spain has better Mullets, they will go on to play Argentina, who they are currently in a Border Conflict with. There’s a million more scenarios and backstories, but this is why soccer is so great. Wars have started and ended over a single game. Allied and Central powers never put down their weapons for a game of baseball, cricket, tennis, or American football, you know the football you play mostly with your hands? That’s why I never feel very bad about the US losing, cause we win everything else, and while its sad that Dempsey and Altidore may never know the feeling of holding the Cup above their head, they also live in the VIP section of the world. Who’s getting bottle service?

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