|
|
Thursday, February 16, 2006
|
|
 FOR THE LOVE OF THE GAME : THOUGHTS ON THE LINGERIE FOOTBALL LEAGUE
I'm not what can be described as a sports fan. There's something about seeing half-witted felons recieving millions of dollars to participate in activities designed for children that fills me with contempt, bile and a furious anger. Better still is when said half-witted felons go on strike, as happens from time to time. To my mind, there are few things as amusing as watching millionaires picket against billionaires. Such things remind me that humanity is doomed and this always brings a smile to my face. As you might imagine, smiles are in short supply in my life and I'm grateful whenever I find something that inspires one.
There are only two athletic activities that I will engage in, either as a spectator or a participant. Those are throwing Christians to lions and circle jerks. The former becauses it soothes my sense of justice and the latter because I've been in "training" since I was four months old and what I lack in speed, I more than make up for in distance. What can I tell you other than that some guys play golf, which is equally pointless, yet not half as soothing?
Anyone who knows me personally will tell you that I am a great admirer of one Elvis Presley, deceased. Since my childhood, I have endeavoured to become as much like the late King as I can. Unfortunately, I have a terrible voice and lack the resources to create my own Jungle Room. All that I am left with that brings me closer to the erstwhile King of Rock n' Roll is our shared love of watching young girls wrestle in their panties. As a rich, famous and gorgeous man, Mr. Elvis could arrange private matches in his home. I, on the other hand, am left to rely on happenstance and an extensive collection of pornography.
 It is for that reson that I couldn't have been more pleased to learn about the Lingerie Football League. The concept of the Lingerie Football league (or LFL, as its devotees lovingly refer to it) couldn't be more perfect. There is a large untapped market of civilized gentlemen such as myself who would like to be sporting enthusiasts but are put off by the mindless criminality and pointless financial excess of current professional sports. The LFL could very well be a new source of passion for the cultured, modern man of manners and breeding.
The Lingerie Football League differs from the National Football League in three important respects. Firstly, while the NFL is populated by potential rapists, the LFL is a teaming of potential rape victims. Secondly, the players uniforms consist only of helmets, knee and elbow pads and lacy, silky undergarments. Of course, this makes the ass-patting so common after a successful play sometimg to look forward to. Third and finally, each game lasts only thirty minutes, which is perfect for someone who is bored by sports once his orgasm subsides.
 If like me, you belong to the "ascot and monocle wearing, reading the New Yorker by the fire in your den" set, then the Lingerie Football League is perfectly designed to your sensibilities. Few human endeavours more properly stimulate a refined intellect quite like the sight of twenty models rolling about with one another in their finest silken unmentionables, seeking to impose the triumph of their will. A man of learning can learn much about the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat from the LFL.
Any sport that demands that its spectators be pantless must involve some audience participation. And there can be no greater way of doing so than holding out the prospect that those same twenty underwear models might pile up upon you so that you may taste defeat in the only way it was meant to be tasted. One might mock this possibility, but it is precisely what befell William "Refrigerator" Perry in Los Angeles on February 5. Even if you consider yourself less than a "dreamy" sexual presence, I should point out that Mr. Perry looks much like you would expect someone nicknamed "Refrigerator" to.
It used to be that if you masturbated furiously on a Sunday, you would be damned to an eternity in hell. But that was before the advent of professional sports, when such self-pleasuring merely indicated that you were a homosexual. Now wanking in front of the television on Sundays is the clearest way to demonstrate that you are indeed a man of wealth and taste and a sporting gentleman, to be sure.
Soon a cry will echo from every hill and valley, a cry from the pantless masses everywhere, men, lesbians and (greatest of all) bisexual women yearning to free. And that cry will be "Lingerie Football League uber alles!"
Special thanks to Six Meat Buffet for the link.
Permalink
|
|
|
| |
