Reflections on the 4th of July
I had initially posted this on my secret blog, which you don’t even know about because we aren’t cool like that, now are we?
But in retrospect (the best ’sepct this side of " female lack of self-re") I don’t have a secret blog and it’s not like anyone still checks friendster (myspace won). Besides, coming up with shit to write about isn’t as easy as, say drinking lots of beer and falling down.
I would like to point out, before I bring you back to two months ago, that for the last week and a half the area around where I work has been decidedly fucked up -first because of fashion week and most recently because of all the heads from OT at the UN. Honestly, could we not have just combined these events and saved a lot of police overtime. Foresight isn’t just a fancy word for a kid with glasses.
ANYWAY.
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So, having just woke up from the 4th of July, I figured I would jot down some quick notes about what occurred as a preventative measure against becoming too optimistic that shit would pop next year.
First off, let me say that the whole NYPDeuche campaign against illegal fireworks was a complete fucking waste of everyones time. At least out in Asstoria where I was, people were shooting shit off all day and especially during the Macy’s fireworks display, which seemed to be especially wack this year. The collection of Arabic people blasting their Arabic music at an audible volume didn’t help anything at all.
Anyway, the real highlight of the day for me (and any other decent God fearing person) was the Italy-Germany game, or Jesus V. Nazi’s as I looked at it. Despite the two teams being fairly evenly matched, Italy came through in the waning seconds of overtime for a beautiful goal and then added the (demoralizing) icing on the cake about a minute later to send the Germans back to Germany (ha!). At the very least, shit didn’t go into penalty kicks, which makes no sense. It’s not like they play three extra innings in baseball and then have a homerun derby if the score is still tied. What a hell of an analogy!
Back to the point, shit was popping in Rome like whoa, and I need to look into where I can acquire a blue flare before the final match on Sunday.
Alas, unlike the bullshit Macy’s fireworks display, I will not have the world cup to look forward to next year.
