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Thursday, June 12, 2014

WORLD CUP RANT

Back home from work, grab a cold beer and sit in front of the TV to watch the opening match.
Oh, there is the small matter of the opening ceremony but I have lots of beer in the fridge to negotiate
that sort of atrocity. Yes, I find Opening Ceremonies tedious, vain and ultra-extravagant affairs.
I mute the sound cause I figure it's Brasil, it will be carnival music and by the way they are shaking
their butts I must be right. I disagree with music designed solely for the body. Music is the greatest
cultural achievement of man (and woman for the politically correct) and at its best, when they get the dynamics right, can excite your senses and illuminate the dark corridors of your brain. It can be an elating experience unlike any other. It excites more than modern american porn because modern american porn has been taken over by fake tits and fake tits don't jiggle.

Wait a minute. What is that? I'm I hallucinating? I see people with long legs with tree branches coming out of their shoulders, walking about the pitch through people who are dancing and prancing around
an egg shaped structure that changes colours and shapes?
I scan my beer bottle… normal alcohol percentage. I wonder how much that psychedelic egg in the middle of the pitch cost. Time for another beer to wash the images down.

I heard the news before the show begun and, as expected, there were riots outside or close by the stadium. The police used rubber bullets and, get ready for this… stun grenades! What da f..k, did I miss a whole bunch of meetings with the gun club? I've heard of stun guns but… stun grenades? Whatever happened to good old fashioned water guns from the fire brigade? Even a p….y like Boris can handle that. What's next? Stun napalm bombs? Why don't you send a B52 and drop some on the hapless crowd. No need to worry. Stun napalm releases tiny tongues of flame that can, at best, eliminate your eyebrows and make you look like an albino for a while. I swear, these companies that make guns employ quite creative people…

While on the subject of guns, 4 more shootings ripped the sanity out of the collective conscience of American society. And, sadly, you got the infamous Obama comment "This society is not yet ready…"
The society? I guess we'll have to wait until the President of the USA grows some hair on his balls and replaces the word "society" with "NRA lobbyists"…

I'm on my fourth beer now and the Opening Ceremony is dragging on. And suddenly, the Psychedelic Egg is opening up like a Venus flytrap inviting its prey and out pops a  lady dressed in a skimpy blue garment holding a microphone. The sound on the TV set is still muted. I don't know who she is as pop music disagrees with my taste. They will never have the Andrew Jackson Jihad sing at these ceremonies, just women flashing flesh and multimillionaires who were once RELEVANT to real music. Oh my god, who is that? Is that JLo? Even the pop ignorant in me recognises that ass. Oh she is shaking it, I don't want to hit the fridge for another  beer just yet. She is dressed in a green skimpy garment. And the one in the blue, compared to JLo, looks like she possesses a deflated ass. They sing and dance on the Psychedelic Egg. All around on the pitch, boys and girls are dancing and prancing…
And these images (being beamed into my home-RW) tend to make me more intoxicated. And  intoxication unleashes the vivid imagination. What if all these people dancing and prancing were stark naked. Now, that would be a show… bouncing titties and bouncing balls and bouncing butts…

Finally the song is over. It seemed to have lasted more than Pink Floyd's "Echoes". Jlo walks towards the exit followed by the sorry assed blue clad lady. I've just noticed, Pitbull is along with them. Woof.
Talk about who let the dogs out...

The crowd swallow the whole thing. The collective taste in the arena is a more civilised throw-them-to-the-lions-sort-of-Roman-arena.
Outside the arena, a young boy tries to locate a fountain to reload his toy water pistol before the stun atomic bomb gets to him…
It was Justin Sullivan who sang "One world is rising, one world is dying,
                                                     and one has got his precious head buried in the sand"



And the children of Melrose strut their stuff
I s absolute zero cold enough
And down in the valley warm and clean
The little one sit by their TV screens
No thoughts to think
No tears to cry
All sucked dry
Down to the very last breath
Bartender what is wrong with me, why am I so out of breath
The captain said "Excuse me ma'am
                             The species has amused itself to death"

                                                      "Amused To Death"                        (ROGER WATERS)