Gentle reader, this week has left me in a state of bewilderment. Just two weeks ago, our beloved El FC was playing atrocious footy. No ruthless verticality. All we had was horseshoes of sadness and a lot of crosses. Crosses that went to no one. Crosses that kept coming despite being ineffectual. I did my best to figure out Wolff’s plans, but everything was obscure.
Then, last week happend. Some fantastic results, culminating with a free flowing performance vs. Houston. Of course, my hens foresaw the 3 incoming goals. No surprise that Phil and his “chickens” did not:
Why the dominance? Does our lovely Caledonian fan, Allaster McKallaster, have the answer? Perhaps.
But that’s not all. The good news kept rolling along like Ixion’s wheel.
If, perhaps, you’d like to hear some of his thoughts, here’s a clip from his time on Merseyside.
All this positivity made me feel a bit like Linda Richmond.
Whenever I begin to get this feeling, I must radiate some sort of halo, an aura, if you will. For, every time the verklemptitudity hits, my hens have shown up. This day was no exception. San Julius sauntered up first and pressed her feathered head onto me, as if to hug and give me permission to embrace all my feelings.
In deep gratitude for her fidelity, I casually scattered some organic, ethically sourced, non-GMO, pelleted feed onto the ground. Our eyes locked. Chakras aligned. She eagerly ate two pellets to the right and then still. Absolutely still.
Yes, my love, I understand. Nothing obscure about it. The joy continues.
El FC 2-0 Fort Lauderdale
Louis de Ludovico
Viewing McKalla as his personal empire, Louis lives for the beautiful game. And food. Especially flamingo tongues. A chicken savant.
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