Dear Sports Fans

Welcome to the no-spellcheck zone. This means I'm sitting in some rathole of an internet cafe and fittingly, this one is in the middle of nowhere. The train is taking a well deserved three hour break after the strenuous two hours it did this morning getting here; as a result I have little to do in place with even less to occupy me. Also, I should have changed my underwear this morning. This is not the time for regrets, however, as it is really a time for celebrations! I'm about to shower you all with page upon page of text, glorious text -- and I just know you've all been salivating, mouths open, waiting for my bounty to rain upon you.

That time is here. And while there's doubtless some horrendous fuckups in this text, I couldn't be bothered holding the other posts to my usual lofty standards. There's a lot of reasons for this, resons that I can't go into here, but if they look a little odd, well, fuck you.

Behold! And anyway, it won't nearly be as bad as that tripe 'John' rolled out. Dude, we have standards here! STANDARDS!

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