What are we supposed to do? We look statistically at matchups, performances, et cetera, et cetera, and we get sad trombone music. We decide to just vibe and we get burned. Excepting Turd, the compound is filled with optimists. He’s a bit of a “Why even have a glass? It’s just gonna get broken or stolen kind of guy.” We could be getting burned in a much worse way. And so, our optimistic selves fully recognize there are ways to get burned we don’t even want to contemplate.
In fact, one could successively argue that there’s a soupcon of Stendhal Syndrome wafting about the compound from the repeated viewings of this sauciest of saucy moves. Roll that beautiful Fagu footage!
So, where does that put us, gentle reader? Are we upset or are we not? It may surprise some that Uncle Tony P. dabbles in Aristotelian philosophy. He’s been leading all of us Compounders in philosophy circles wherein we’ve been focusing on eudaimonia. It’s worked. Our happiness quotient has triple in the last fiscal quarter.
Heads floating about the æther, we turn our attention to El FC’s upcoming match vs. Nashville. When Travis mentioned that charming Tennessee town’s name, Wolfie came darting out of her coop, which is, as ever, well-appointed with the fabric of our lives.
Wolfie begins to cluck. First, in a staccato rhythm. Then, a tune begins to flow. I pick it up immediately.
As Wolfie belted out this classic, Charles Peacock began to dance. Part Elaine Benes, but mostly Deliverance.
Our souls crashed to earth faster than a tech bro’s crypto portfolio. Should we be happy? Should we fear Rodney?
I decided I should let my dear hens tell me how to feel. I pull out the ethically-sourced pelleted feed that served us so well in the past, scattered it about in concentric circles, and watched the ladies go to work. They gobbled it up like some ravenous wolves. Wolfie took two sprightly steps to the right and stopped. My heart soared. But, unfortunately, she then took two steps to the left.
Sigh. I understand.
El FC 2-2 Another Music City That If We’re Being Honest Has A Better Claim To Live Music Capital Than Ours
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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