Do You Feel Lucky?

(and feel free to comment! My older posts are certainly no less relevant to the burning concerns of the day.)

Friday, April 04, 2014

When Cons Go Pro, the Pros Go...I dunno, I thought that would go somewhere.

Speaking about the whole "Pro vs. Con" Pro. Seriously, all the way! It's the pros in a walkover, and I don't care how much you want to claim everyone over to the con side because we're all infracanineophiles, right? No. Pro. And not because they're the overdogs.

You need to begin to get realistic on a thing like this. You might even find you develop a taste for it. The Pros go rolling over those poor Cons like they were all secretly and unbeknownst to each other paid to take dives, only it was like the beginning of the third act of a sports movie or something and somehow some nerve got touched off and they all got super-furious at their own integrity and just said "Fuck the consequences, fuck the spread. We won this game the moment they fucking tried to bribe us," because the Pros don't play that! That's a big part of why they're not Cons in the first place. That's shit's criminal, Mr. Holmes.

Yes. We all know you'd like to extol the tough mutha blood and tumble scrape the defender into the tarmac on the way to the goal ethos that the Cons espouse, or at the very least, front as if to espouse so as to avoid being perceived as somebody's pretty decent bitch prospect. Grow up. No matter how many Dallas Cowboys smoke how much cocaine, they don't send those guys to those jails. The kind of prison they send those guys to has about maybe only prison league polo or any equally high-posh criminally incarcerated sports equivalents you might care to name. Prison league croquet? Why certainly. Will we have time before tea? Or what sports we were even talking about playing, come on? We knew the ones. The big ones! The ones where inmates versus rippling bloodthirsty scorehog divamonsters even has some frisson to it. The sports that matter, rough tough and bold!

There isn't a single sport that even has a major league dedicated to it where the top level top flight top paid athletes are not going to wipe those guys destroyed and humiliated off the face of the playing surface, oh with tender pity and regret I am sure. Condescendingly of course. Because that's a mismatch. It's not even fair - the best-ever all-history all-star nightmare team you could assemble from your pick of every prison league that ever ran one in or knocked one over, those hard luck men are fucking children next to our pack of ravening tiger-eyed charging bulls, bears, lions or whatever else have you.

It's not remote. The chance your prison leaguers could bring enough game to tame that brutal performance-boosted elite pro beast. You know it. I know it? The odds makers know it! So, you know, why not quit trying to act like a little pouty kid reading comic books pretending living hard and romanticizing horrible experiences gives you superpowers. "Well, he's survived four years of the hardest time you could clock without breaking the hands! He's got to be way tougher than these so-called pampered superstar millionaire athletes. And just look at the fucked up way he's sharpened those points on his cleats...! His whole team has tattoos of people they haven't killed yet and mean to! These men fight dirty! That's why they'll win. Dirty!"


No, no please. Thank you.


A walkover.

Very clean.

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