Closeted

I’ve always believed that Portuguese footballer Cristiano Ronaldo is either buried deep within the closet, or else he’s just one of the most effeminate men in professional football.  Here’s why:

Please.  I know that Euro men are typically more effeminate than the average, but (without a shred of proof) I bet that he has as many male fans as female fans — and by “male”, I mean the kind who would use the above as stroke material.

“Oh but Kim,”  I hear you cry out, “Cristiano has a beautiful girlfriend, and has fathered four children by her withal.”

Uh huh.  Here’s Mr. Macho at a Press conference a little while ago:

Dude’s wearing more diamonds than Liberace at a Turkish bath.  (And a woman’s engagement ring?)

Not, as they say, that there’s anything wrong with all that.  He’s still one of the greatest footballers ever to play the game, even if after he scores, he often does this “out of excitement”:

Yup.  And all over the world, men of a certain persuasion get excited too, I’ll bet.  Still, I love watching him play because, when all’s said and done, he’s an absolutely brilliant footballer.  None of that other shit matters.

Perfect 10

Anyone remember her?

Yup, that’s Nadia Comeneci. who achieved a perfect 10.0 in gymnastics at the 1976 Olympics.  Of course, as a callow pre-adolescent girl with no figure to speak of, she wasn’t a perfect 10 — that improvement would come later.

 

So why are you mentioning her at all, Kim?

Because later this year, she will be turning 60.  Here’s a more recent pic: 

You all have my permission to feel really old.  (And I know, she’s probably gone blonde to disguise the grey.  Bad choice, in my opinion, but I still would.)

Filthy Rich

I often wondered where the above expression came from.  Now I know.

The background to all this is that a bunch of mega-rich football club owners have decided to create a “super league” of some of Europe’s top soccer teams, to operate in a “midweek” time slot.  The actual story and the mechanics thereof can wait for another time.  What caught my attention was this little profile of some of these owners.

Holy shit.

Now let me state at the outset that I’m not one of those socialist wealth-envious types, and nothing in this post should be interpreted as such.  But if the goal of these clubs’ owners is to make still more money out of their franchises’ so-called “brand” and the cachet attached thereto, my only question is… why?

I’m never going to be the one who says “You’ve made enough money” (because ex-POTUS Urkel already said that), but what these rich bastards are doing is ripping the heart out of the world’s largest sport, spitting in the fans’ faces and turning beloved and storied institutions into cash cows, just so as to further expand their already-gargantuan fortunes.  And that is disgusting.

England’s Big Six of City, Chelsea, United, Arsenal, Spurs and Liverpool had earlier sparked outrage among much of the footballing world by announcing plans to team up with Spanish giants Atletico, Barcelona, and Real Madrid, and top Italian sides AC and Inter Milan for the new European Super League.

I hope this thing falls on its ass.  I hope the sport’s governing bodies toss these clubs out of their respective leagues, and ban the players from playing anywhere outside this new monster league (which may happen).

In a case of extreme irony, a sport that was created by and for poor working men is being turned into a rich man’s little toy.


Update:  It seems this might have gone a league too far:  all six English clubs intend to pull out (and the Euro clubs have followed), and the awful exec-V.P. of Manchester United has resigned — maybe the first of many such to follow soon.  (It’s all happening very quickly;  I’ve updated this part of the post three times already, in just a few hours.)

The players aren’t happy about it, either.  Here’s Liverpool’s captain:

This says it all:

Have a little sauce with that humble pie.

A Fastball For Fauci

As Longtime Readers know, I have little time for professional sports right now, as their controlling organizations have succumbed to Wokeness.  Nevertheless, recent events here in Cuidad Tejas have come to my attention, and I need to highlight just one;  but first, a little background is necessary.

The Texas Rangers baseball team sucks.  It’s not quite as bad as the 1920-2002 Chicago Cubs in its depth of suckitude, but it’s never been that far off either.  Opening Day of each season, therefore, has seldom been a gala affair, sometimes approaching a half-full stadium but more often than not, not even close.

Last Monday’s opening game, therefore, did not bode well, especially as it was against the Toronto Blue Jays, in which team Texas interest ranks somewhere around zero.  And not many Canuckis are going to fly all the way down to Dallas for their team, even if it means an escape from their frigid city.  (It may be spring here, but in Toronto spring still has a couple months to go before putting in a timid appearance.)

So:  an empty stadium at The Ballpark In Arlington*?  Ummm, nope:

That’s more spectators than I’ve ever seen on Opening Day here.  And yes, there were people wearing masks, just like Dr. Fauci ordered — but a hell of a lot of others weren’t:

…because wearing a mask in the open air is senseless, even in a stadium packed almost to capacity.

Clearly, the good people of Texas are fed up with all this mask bullshit, and as I noticed a couple weeks back, it’s starting to show itself all over the place.  And yes, despite having 20 million more residents than Gauleiter  Gretchen Whitmer’s Michigan, Texas has far fewer Chinkvirus cases not just on a per capita  basis, but in absolute numbers.

So fuck off, Fauci.

Oh, and by the way, the Rangers lost, 6-4.  Sic semper ludi.


*I know, it’s now Globe Life Field or some bullshit, who cares.

Inconsequential

Apparently there’s a big hoo-hah about where Major League Baseball is going to play their so-called “All-Star” game this year because Georgia is an eeevil place because they want to prevent voter fraud such as happened in the 2020 elections.  Other states have weighed in (notably Texas), and so on and so on.

In the first place, MLB should call the All-Star game what it really is — the Steroid Festival — but what really gives me the giggles is that they think that their sport, or any sport come to think of it, matters more than a pitcher’s mound of beans in the grand scheme of things.

I note with great pleasure that the PGA has not got involved in this wokism, because unlike baseball, they know which side their bread is buttered on.  (Boycotting Georgia, when the Masters Tournament is played at Augusta?  Don’t make me laugh.)  Still on the subject of buttered bread, MLB seems to have forgotten who comprises their core fan base, and playing little wokester games is probably not high on the list of priorities for that group.

Couldn’t happen to a nicer bunch of shills and fraudsters.

As for the rest of us — that growing number of people like myself who are becoming disaffected with corporate wokism and alienated from all the companies that practice it — where MLB plays their little All-Star game matters less than a flat tire on a pickup.

Interesting Situation

Last weekend, Lewis Hamilton won the Turkish Grand Prix and with it, the F1 Driver’s Championship for the seventh (!!!!) time, tying the venerated-but-comatose Michael Schumacher for the all-time record.  Much has been said about the little twerp, especially by me, for the fact that he’s driving a  car (factory Mercedes-AMG) which is hugely superior to most if not all of the other cars in Formula 1, and to a certain degree this is true. (Mercedes had actually clinched the F1 Team Championship title the race before.)

However:  in Istanbul on Sunday, conditions were terrible.  It had rained all night before, and to add to the drivers’ woes, the track had only been resurfaced a couple weeks prior, which meant that even dry it would have been slippery;  add metric tons of water to the mix, and you get mayhem.  Which is pretty much what happened.  Nobody cared to race on slicks, when meant “wet” or “intermediate” tires were the order of the day, and all during the race, cars were sliding around and off the track like they were being driven by five-year-old boys and not by arguably the best drivers in the world.  Even worse was that because the tires were wet-weather ones, they degraded very quickly when the track did dry out a bit.  Ordinarily under those circumstances, you’re lucky to get ten to fifteen laps before the tread wears to such an extent that you’re in essence racing on slicks, on a soaking-wet track.  This was not the case in Istanbul, because it drizzled on and off during the entire race, which meant that the alternate wet- and dry track gave the intermediate tires a few more laps’ life, to maybe twenty laps.

Hamilton changed off the wet tires on lap 8 — and then drove the last fifty laps on the same tires, winning by a huge margin because all the other drivers had to make two and sometimes three pit stops to change theirs.  It was a drive of unbelievable virtuosity, and as much as I personally detest the little asshole, it was a drive worthy of a champion, the win and therefore the title richly deserved.  And by the way, Valttieri Bottas (the other Mercedes driver), driving the same machinery, finished somewhere like fifteenth.  So much for “equipment superiority”.

I told you all that so I could tell you this.

Hamiton’s seventh driver’s title has resulted in calls for him to be given a knighthood by the Queen — she doesn’t make the decision, by the way, some government flunkey or other does, I can’t be bothered to look it up as like most Americans I think the whole title thing is silly.  Regardless, other sportsmen have been knighted before for their sporting success (F1’s Jackie Stewart and Stirling Moss, cricketer Ian Botham — more on him in another post), so it’s not an unusual thing for a sportsman to be thus recognized.

However, this is Lewis Hamilton we’re talking about, so of course there’s going to be a turd in the punchbowl.  And this is it:  many years ago, Lewis left the U.K. and took up residence in Monaco to escape Her Majesty’s onerous taxation (once again, not the old girl’s fault;  she doesn’t makes the laws, she just signs the papers).

To the ever-censorious British public, who think that leaving Britain for this reason equates to near-criminal behavior, this is causing some problems, conceptually.  On the one hand, he’s brilliant and deserves some social recognition, but on the other, he’s a reprehensible tax-dodger who’s being rewarded by the Crown despite his “disloyalty”.

Needless to say, I think the wealth-envious Brits are total idiots when it comes to this nonsense:  taxes are an evil, evil form of theft:  one should pay only as much as the law mandates, and not one fucking penny more.  Avoiding paying taxes (as opposed to evading, or not paying any) is one’s fiscal responsibility, and tax loopholes (created, of course, by loathsome politicians) should be used to the utmost advantage without actually breaking the law.  Tax accountants and -lawyers exist to know about and bring such loopholes (okay, exceptions) to their clients’ attention and save them money.  That’s the beginning and the end of what I call the commonsense approach to paying taxes — but that’s not what the vast British (and huge swathes of the U.S.) public believes.

Thus, the quandary the Brits find themselves in is an exquisite one, as I stated above.  And I find myself curiously conflicted:  on the one hand I think Hamilton’s achievement is incredible, and worthy of recognition;  but on the other, while the tax haven thing is irrelevant, the thought of this woke little BLM-supporting twerp becoming “Sir Lewis” sticks in my craw like a chicken bone.