YES! YES! Y-E-MOTHERFUCKING-S!
I haven't written about the World Cup in awhile since, really, what the hell can I add that others haven't? Besides, I leave that kind of pontificating to my friend Steve Owen.
After a really God-awful morning -- Rooney red-carded; Beckham gets a boo-boo and pulls himself out; Mighty England goes down -- I sat down with a bottle of Bordeaux and some Brie, said a prayer, and prepared myself for the possibility of true heartbreak.
Look kids, France vs. Brazil was the ultimate clash of cultures -- as in a country that has one, and a country that doesn't. Yeah the French are snobs, but have you ever been to Paris? The city's fucking gorgeous. They should be snobs for Christ sake. Meanwhile Brazil... well what the hell can you say about a people who took a really beautiful rain forest and planted a giant slum on top of it.
I prayed for one more brilliant performance from Zidane. I prayed for my gods from Arsenal, Henry and Viera, to at least hold their own against that goddamned Neanderthal Ronaldo and his smiling, retarded little brother Ronaldinho.
And guess what the hell happened. The French team from 1998 was resurrected.
Zidane dominated. Henry scored. Brazil -- the giant with mystery bruises and bad dental work -- finally fell.
Hey Ronaldinho... still smiling bitch?
Think I'll open another bottle of wine -- maybe a nice Beaujolais.