YEAH, 'FOOTBALL'. FOOT + BALL. Duh. What the hell is a socc?

Brasil, I'm done fighting you (see The Brasil Fetish). Somewhere between the Brasilian football team's third and thirty-eighth goal against Chile yesterday, I saw the light - or, the yellow and green. I felt the ground heave as people in Cafe Brasil hugged and chanted and little Chinese men waved Brazilian flags. I heard millions cheer in the distance with every goal. And I realized that there is no force on Earth - much less any mere football team - that can oppose an entity with the world behind it. The evidence speaks for itself:

  • They're depressingly healthy, very spiritual looking, wear great colors, and their country hasn't colonized anyone
  • They beat the North Korean football team, and still haven't all died in a series of mysterious accidents
  • Their 'ole ole ole' chant translates in Farsi to 'towel towel towel'.
I can't imagine athletes fucking the world up faster than politicians are. Give Team Brasil the wheel for a spell. Drop them over Afghanistan and the Gulf Of Mexico. They balance balls, why not the budget? Obama looks like one of their bench players; throw his whole administration in yellow and green outfits and watch how fast things turn around. Or we could all move to Brasil. Everyone on Earth standing side by side could fit in Texas; Brasil's easily four times larger. We could have bananas for breakfast and roast panther for dinner at no cost to the taxpayer. You don't have to be Brazilian to see that Brasil is the truth. I'd love to be Brazilian, if I wasn't Iranian, British and fucking perfect already.

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