Our prediction? Nailed it.
With that having been said, a surprising funk has descended upon the compound. A malaise of sorts. We don’t know why. But, living so close to each other, we have a synergy amongst us and feelings/moods travel from one to the other. So, in the immortal words of Barry Manilow, “I feel sad when you’re sad.”
We tried to push through, hoping our quotidian responsibilities would lighten our minds. Unfortunately, the miasma of sorrow continued to permeate through us. We were in Morrisey levels of sadness.
We decided we needed to face this head on: Reconvene the restorative circle!
We sat down and whipped out the talking stick.
Turd Verdson decided to go first. He got up and bewailed, “It makes me sad how Snoop Dogg seems so chill and at the same time goes out of his way his whole career to drop some misogyny out of nowhere on every dope track he gets invited to.”
Tommy Pokes added, “I’m sad when a beautiful piece of meat is overcooked at the asada.”
Travis McTravelface: “I’m sad that the barber in Montreal messed up my haircut.”
Uncle Tony P: “It makes me sad when people still don’t understand the lyrics to “Born In the USA”. The song is almost 40 years old now. This shouldn’t be that hard.”
Alistair Dennis: “I’m sad that Boris Johnson and his shenanigans are going to continue to delay any progress towards Scottish independence even after he’s out of office.”
Andrea Provolone: “I’m sad that Jeff Bezos stole my idea for the shape of his rocket ship, especially because I was only kidding when I was suggesting it.”
La Sticky Gallardo: “I’m sad that Taco Bell brought back the Mexican Pizza but is showing no love to the dearly departed 7-Layer Burrito.”
Slan: “I voted Brad Stuver for player of the week but realized I was many weeks too late.”
Me? I’m sad because he’s a 10, but they say he’s a 7.
Having thusly unburdened our souls, a wave of solace washed over us like grit in an East Texas dust storm.
It was at this moment that Wolfie wobbled up to us. Her eyes told me something else to be sad about: A team with Dallas in its name plays in Frisco. To be stuck in the valley of strip malls is 7th level of Hell stuff.
San Julius then joined us, gazed at me the gaze of a chicken, and hopped twice to the right and then took one step to the left.
Yes, my dears, I understand.
El FC 2-1 FC Soulcrushing Blandness
Louis de Ludovico
Viewing McKalla as his personal empire, Louis lives for the beautiful game. And food. Especially flamingo tongues. A chicken savant.