HI! My friends! I love all of you. Blessed be each and every one of you that makes love to all that is the Revolution... and studies it, in a masculine way, but without remorse. WHO? you! Because you love them. But you will find defeat in Giants Stadium. Lo! Behold unto you a loss waiting! Lurking! SEETHING with Piusness! To rape and pillage all that is You. Not that we will actually rape or pillage the actual people, but i am speaking figuratively, for i am witty like that. But beyond all this, a crushing there sits, and waits. And looks at you with the eyes of a child, but with the phallus of a MEJIDO! And unfolds it! And unravels it! And beats it soundly to awake it! And scares you it does! For you have never seen such an organ, nor will you ever see again... for when the Instrument of your pillaging comes before you, you will shudder... your knees will wobble thus, and you will feel the cold release of death. And and loss will ensue... but this is what you expected, so fear not... because you loved your team, and you came so close... you traveled all the way from your village to see and to witness, but you couldn't, because something blocked your view... A shadow falling upon your eyes... blinding it is, to it your eyes a small ant on which to laden its fool-hearty ways of pain and violence... and it was crushed, and your vision impaired, and your people slaughtered, and your Franchino a worthless sack of crap, but you came anyways.. to cheer and to salute and to become a voyeur to what you knew was their destruction. But you came. Because you love. Love, a powerful emotion that saps up energy much like this long-ass paragraph is doing to its present reader, but Love, yes Love, an emotion with such higher significance as which to make a pawn of any heart, any soul, any that wish to defeat or lose or squander its Intent. You would dare squeeze its Intent? Dare you not, good sir. Dare you NOT. For Love, whether for that of a team, or that of a small boy for what lays beneath his father's jeans, makes it impurvious for the crack addict and the victim of the crack addict's addiction to Love. Yes, love is all that matters. To me, to you, to yo' momma... to the millions of people watching at home... to every last one of the world's children who will make a request to see the Revolution lose to the MetroStars by a score of at LEAST 11 or 12 to 0. ...at LEAST. Whitney, you're giving me a hug this time dammit.
(sniff) ... that was beautiful man. I mean, completely unrealistic, because the Revs are gonna crush Metro, but still: very poetic.
you know that commercial? the bud commercial of the insecure guy, standing on the beach, starved for attention, feeling so alone in the urban world where he's rooted, that he resorts to stuffing his name into thousands of sea-bound posts..er, i mean, bottles (uh, instead of concentrating on the blonde standing right next to him, btw) in hopes that someone...anyone....a soulmate of sorts...out there in the vast abyss of the world will contact him someday and express their gratefulness for his efforts? well you think that would've taught bigsoccer's resident "michael mejido of 29 maple lane" at least a little something.
Humble Pie or Eating Crow? Hey Mike! Check out the following link: www.quinion.com Search for eating crow. Can't find it? Here's the text: "When you have made a serious error and need to acknowledge it humbly, it is highly probable that the expression you use to describe the process has something to do with food. The best-known traditional expression of this type in the US is to eat crow. The origin seems fairly obvious: the meat of the crow, being a carnivore, is presumably rank and extremely distasteful, and the experience is easily equated to the mental anguish of being forced to admit one’s fallibility. The British English equivalent is eating humble pie, which contains two ideas rolled in together, a portmanteau dish. The original umbles were the innards of the deer: the liver, heart, entrails and other second-class bits. It was common practice in medieval times to serve a pie made of these parts of the animal to the servants and others who would be sitting at the lower tables in the lord’s hall. Pepys mentions it in his diary for 8 July 1663: “Mrs Turner came in and did bring us an Umble-pie hot out of her oven, extraordinarily good”. However, it seems it was not until the nineteenth century that the expression humble pie appeared in the sense we now know, and some have reasoned that it did so as a deliberate play on words. If so, it was a very small play. The word umbles is a variant form of an old French term noumbles, (originally from Latin lumulus, a diminutive of lumbus, from which we also get loin and lumbar); umbles seems to be derived from numbles by the process called metanalysis which, for example, turned a norange into an orange; umbles also sometimes appeared in medieval times and later in the form humbles. Contrariwise, the word humble (originally from the Latin humilem from which we also get humility) was frequently spelt and pronounced “umble” from medieval times right down to the nineteenth century. So the figurative sense of umble pie could have appeared at almost any time since the medieval period; indeed, so close is the association that it is surprising that the OED’s first citation dates only from 1830. The phrase to eat dirt, first attested in the 1850s, expresses the same idea as to eat crow and to eat humble pie. The oldest of them, and most probably the source of all the others, is to eat one’s words, which first appears in print in 1571 in one of John Calvin’s tracts, on Psalm 62: “God eateth not his words when he hath once spoken”. One helping or two?
I know the guy. He is just a high school kid with too many zitts to get a date. Let him have his fun. He is a rotten driver also.