What do a pedophile, a serial killer, and a horse have in common? They are all terrible people. Do you know what the worst type of person is though? The monstrous deviant for whom the deepest darkest pits of hell are reserved for? Even deeper than hipsters?
These parasitic oligochetes represent the ultimate pinnacle of douchebaggery, and have been singlehandedly responsible for every bad thing to ever happen to the world ever. To quote my close personal friend Freddy Nietzsche, “God is dead. God remains dead. And he killed himself after he realized he created sports fans.” Do you miss the dinosaurs? Yeah, you can blame sports fans for that too. Nazism? The inevitable next step after sportsfandom.
What, exactly, makes the sports fan such a lowly creature? Is it because all they ever want to talk about are pointless games, even though you are a very busy person and would much rather discuss something more meaningful and interesting in your spare time, like dust? Perhaps. Is it because they worship overpaid troglodytes of questionable intellect and decrepitudinous morals as their gods? Almost certainly. Could it be because they insist on referring to the actions of their arbitrarily chosen favorite teams as the work of “us” or “we”; as in “yeah, last night was a pretty big win for us, but we really deserved it.” Oh really. You deserved it. Because you’re on the team. You dedicated your whole life to perfecting otherwise useless talents, and you made the big play in the game, thus securing the win for “your” team. Yeah.
Bitch, please. That team has nothing to do with you. They don’t know you exist. If they did, they’d hate you, and probably beat you up and give you swirlys, because they’re actual athletes, and you’re just a fat balding carbon blog from sector 7G. You are not on the team. You do not own the team. You are in no way part of the team. It is not your team. Do you think that the star athlete knows you, and is your boy, just because he signed your penis with a sharpie marker once? Wrong. He’s signed lots of penises in his day, penises way more magnificent and less discolored than yours.
Don’t get me wrong, I love sports. They’re fun. To play. Why the hell would I want to watch other people playing them and having fun though? That’s not fun for me. That’s like watching somebody else have sex with your girlfriend, and doing it better than you. Really, it would be better to just have sex with her yourself.
My ex-friend took me to a ball game once. He said it would be fun. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t fun at all. It was baseball. There is nothing exciting about sitting on a thousand degree metal bench in between a fat woman with a mustache and a fat man with gas for 62 hours straight (Mother of God, why is there no time limit!?!?!) as similarly fat men stand around a dusty field in matching pajama outfits eating sunflower seeds and chewing tobacco.
If I want to see fat creatures eating seeds and leaves, i’ll go to the petting zoo, where I can at least wander around the field myself, and laugh when children step in poop. I thought I could at least kill myself with alcohol poisoning by drinking copious amounts of urine-flavored snack shack beer, but I had forgotten to take out a second mortgage on my house that morning, so I couldn’t afford more than one, which was the size of a thimble, and flat as a gymnast’s chest. I also don’t enjoy waiting in line for the bathroom, which as a guy only happens at sports arenas, only to find when I finally get near a toilet that it has been stuffed full of those foam hands and is overflowing with a biohazardous piss and vomit and turd log soup. The only sport that might be worth watching live is soccer, and that is just because the sport is so incredibly over the top boring that you are at least guaranteed a violent riot at some point during or after the game. So there’s one thing to look forward to. Riots.
Watching sports in the comfort of your own home is only slightly better, because you know that you’re only one tv remote click away from watching something actually entertaining and relevant, like cartoons, but if you dare change the channel your friends will morph into a pack of wild animals and destroy all your worldly possessions (which they’ll undoubtably do anyway at the end of the game, whether “their” team wins or loses).
And what’s the story with Sportscenter!? Do you really love sports so much that not only do you have to watch the actual event, but you also have to watch monkeys in suits make meaningless noises at each other as they defend their love of ignorance and homo-eroticism by discussing the game that already happened, and is over with and should really be forgotten, in minute detail, all while playing footsie under the table?
Fucking sports fans. Who are always the loudest, most aggressive drunks in the bar? The guys wearing the sports jerseys. Who is always saying the dumbest shit imaginable in the classroom, yet never realizes that everybody hates them, even the professor? The guys wearing the (insert sports franchise) ball caps. Nobody cares about what you have to say pals, because you dedicate your free time to meaningless garbage, you smelly douches.
Athletes should play the games as they were meant to be played. On a field, alone, with no witnesses, for free. Because they are games. They were meant to be played for fun. Not profit. And sports fans, you should probably just kill yourselves, or at least re-dedicate your lives to something more important. Like cartoons.
The world would be a better place.