Sixty-Seven Today, or: After My Execution I'll Be the Subject of an Intense Search, or: United 2, Philadelphia 3, or: My Favorite Post Ever!

  
John Waters is sixty-seven today. I was young and fresh once too.

As for United 2, Philadelphia 3, I didn't go. Could have, didn't. Chose to not go, conscious decision. FIVE O'CLOCK ON A SUNNY SPRING SUNDAY AFTERNOON, I recognize United may have had less-than-zero choice to play being bound by MLS' craven contract with the assholes at motherfucking ESPN, but whoever is responsible, fuck you, FIVE O'CLOCK ON A SUNNY SPRING SUNDAY AFTERNOON, you don't schedule games for FIVE O'CLOCK ON A SUNNY SPRING SUNDAY AFTERNOON. I had a choice of playing 36 w/SeatSix and Dr Z or ruining my entire day in scheduling contortions for a FIVE O'CLOCK ON A SUNNY SPRING SUNDAY AFTERNOON United game and fuck you, fuck that.





Would have chose outside playing even if United was good though I confess the choice would be harder if United didn't suck-unto-suck, and oh my, do they suck. I did see the first twenty-five minutes on TV, here's my analysis of that twenty-five minutes of United's on-field performance: