1. The plan today was to go a-meme-in' by glomming on to this Barbenheimer thing with my very timely review of both Oppenheimer and Barbie. To recap last week, I hadn't seen Barbie yet, but that has been rectified! Saw it two days ago in a mostly empty theater with one of my three male children. The other two didn't go, but I think it's because they hate going outside, not because they are redpilled dipshits. I realize those two things often go together, but while all incels are agoraphobes, not all agoraphobes are incels. A generalized misanthropy and specific misogyny don't always have to go together, but it's less curious when you consider how much specific misogyny kind of goes with everything, culturally speaking. Now I'm worried I gave too much of a subtle hint that I liked the Barbie movie.
2. Plans generally were disrupted by illness. COVID finally, you ask, breathlessly? No, turns out, something else viral and gross and fairly strong, mostly living in my chest, so I sit here and make the effort to type this, breathlessly.
3. The most major thing in my life at the moment, the 2023 FIFA World Cup took a turn that also
a) Should probably be addressed and
b) Reminds me there's a live game between Spain and the Netherlands in about two hours, so I better wrap this shit up.
Now of course, as a middle-aged adult heterosexual man, given the opportunity, my preference in all cases is to catalogue for you all of the maladies affecting me AND the Sisyphean, Herculean, Mad-Max-ian struggle to survive in a world bereft of pity for those of us who suffer so. Like what color is my sputum, do you even know?!
OK, I will spare you, but suffice it to say by late Thursday I felt like I had been hit over the head with a snow shovel and then got dogpiled by all the big-boy versions of cold symptoms with just a soupçon of flu mixed in (fever and body aches). Was I brave and stoic through it all? Reader, I was not. At one point my eyes turned full bloodshot and just leaked and leaked for like 48 hours. I told everyone I could reach out to that I was certainly either dying or possessed. No one on reddit cared until I suggested I probably got it from an illegal border-crosser. Sometimes they make you work so hard for what you deserve.
In the middle of all this, I was already feeling pretty low since Team USA crashed out of the World Cup in terrible, frustrating fashion, by which I mean between 2 and 4:30 am local time. If they had gotten their shit together and won their group, they would have had games at the very manageable evening hours now being enjoyed by the Netherlands team (like for example two hours and nine minutes from when I am typing the first draft of this sentence). But no, they made me have to try to go to bed at 9 pm so I could get SOME sleep, set an alarm for 1:55 am(!) just to watch live. Could I have waited and watched a full match replay on the Fox Sports app the next morning? Sure, but we've already established that I am a middle-aged adult heterosexual man, would I deprive myself of an opportunity to catalogue self-imposed suffering to no meaningful cause given the opportunity? Have you not been paying attention? See above re: Sisyphean, etc.
Anyway, I didn't even watch it all. The team looked pretty good (not great, no clinicality, poor substitutions and squad rotation, basically just ineptly coached for all the talent they have) comparative to previous matches, but it went to penalties, which I just, sorry, refuse to watch. I know from experience the absolute best I'm going to feel after watching a high-stakes penalty kick shootout is nauseated. There's no way to metabolize that level of cortisol production for something that ultimately means nothing. Aching joints, shaking hands, pacing, full-body clenching... and that's if my team wins!
Afterwards, we got to see all the "patriots" on whatever the fuck Charles Foster Musk is calling twitter these days merge together all their blue checks into the form of one tiny little flaccid $8 phallus they could flappily stroke in public and pretend it was functional, reveling in the loss of these "arrogant" women because, I don't know, the usual stuff, something something anthem, something something woke.
It's clear to anyone that the army of fragile self-cloning online bots had been laying low amidst the body blows of people going out in droves to see Barbie and the realization that they've fucked themselves for a few election cycles now by getting what they wanted on abortion. So sure, they're mad at Bud Light, they're mad at the ladies who play soccer way better than anyone, historically speaking, OK. I guess the good news is we're probably just weeks away from twitter/X (lol) dying as an ecosphere for them, but I'm not going to get my hopes up. Like the ironically named northern snakehead (two things they hate: things from the north and things from China), they'll find a way to breathe and walk across land in order to infest some other habitat and try to convince everyone there that this RFK Jr. makes some interesting points.
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