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Sauron, mate, this thread is about incoherent rage to do with the tournament, specifically - I'd like it to be held in Hell next time, too, but you can't really hold the people of Germany responsible for their government's decision to cuddle up to the sort of corporate fuckwad who bankrolls this parade of essentially bourgeois, shit, and rancidly unentertaining material in the first place.
Two games, I've watched so far. Two full games. I tried to get through them by pretending that the players on screen were just ants, that I could crush if I wanted, but I made a category error - It was me what was the ant, I realised, it was me, all the time.
I had to face up to the bad fact (and I've genuinely, hand on heart, got no idea who he is, though I do try to keep up,) that Stephen Gerrard's life is going to be more significant that not just my life, but everyone else that I know's life, also.
It's silly to complain - all lives deserve to end in obscurity, of course, but, far as I can gather, that guy is a crop-haired ghastly robot who, in earlier times, would have been put in the front-line in the trenches, or the crusades, as an up-for-it bloke, and no one would have especially minded if the worst had happened. |
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