I don't intend to write much about the Crows match. In fact I didn't plan on writing anything before a sense of obligation grasped my talons and directed me towards blogspot.
It was a good win. A huge win is always nice but I don't think it means anything. The Crows are abysmal; a horrendously poor football team. A 95 point win over them is the equivalent of beating a Dockers supporter at a game of chess. Yes, it feels good, but in the end it's just the strong wailing on the weak. It's a temporary happiness soon displaced by the fearsome reality which is the future.
The future against Team McGuire. Team McGuire; those stripey, mangy, mouth breathing, homebody, zombie feces! In all honesty though, they are pretty evil. From McGuire's greasy hair and his magazine rolling ways, to Mick's struggle to speak English, Didak's struggle to not be involved in Saturday night specials, Shaw's moronism and Maxwell's gimpy gloved hand, to Thomas's nickname and Cloke's thuggish face...etc.
All of that aside, they are a pretty formidable side. But I'll blog about that later this week.
But I've ran out of insults so I must fly.
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