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22 December 2023
So,.. foosball. Huh? What's going on there? Seriously, I don't know. Don't get it. Foosball? Who in the hell made up that game?!? With its little plastic men, all looking the same, all in a row-- BECAUSE A BIG METAL BAR HAS BEEN JAMMED COMPLETELY THROUGH THEIR SIDES! That’s three kinds of messed up!
And their legs! What in Jackie Chan's name is up with their legs? Or should I say,.. leg? Boo.
How would you like it if you were a little plastic man, all jazzed about, oh, I dunno, fighting Cobra alongside Duke, Snake Eyes, and the gang of G.I. Joe-- or even making pies and stuff with Strawberry Shortcake (it takes all kinds), when the Plastic Man God says, "No! No, little plastic man. You will not get wonderfully posable joints and a rubber band connecting your torso and pelvis. Nor will you get a big ol' bonnet the color of some fruit, such as blueberries or, perhaps, strawberries. No! For you, my little plastic man, I have something special planned. I will melt your legs together and give you a unileg!"
At this point the plastic man (Everybody knows I'm talking about a generic man made of plastic, right? Not the stretchy superhero guy with no pants, right? Okay, good.) is more than a little worried.
"Unileg? What the f--"
Plastic Man God: "Then I'm gonna cut your arms off and ram a metal bar through your--"
The plastic man stops listening at this point. All he's thinking is that there goes his army career.
And I guess that's why I don't get foosball. Those poor, little, identical, armless, one-legged plastic men with a big metal pole rammed through their sides, being spun around. But to say I don't get foosball doesn't mean I hate it. I actually kind of like it. But, what's up with it? Who makes this stuff up? And what is wrong with said person or persons?
So I don't get foosball. That doesn't make it any less of a legitimate game. I mean, I don't get calculus either. That doesn't make it not a form of mathematics,.. hmmm,.. nah. Comparing calculus to foosball is like comparing apples to oranges, or cheese to purple pants. You'd have to be insane for,.. uh,.. what was I writing about? Oh,.. yeah. This story looks long enough.
"But what about my hopes and dreams?" wonders the plastic man, as his unileg slams against the little white ball.
VISIT D.J. HERE.
And their legs! What in Jackie Chan's name is up with their legs? Or should I say,.. leg? Boo.
How would you like it if you were a little plastic man, all jazzed about, oh, I dunno, fighting Cobra alongside Duke, Snake Eyes, and the gang of G.I. Joe-- or even making pies and stuff with Strawberry Shortcake (it takes all kinds), when the Plastic Man God says, "No! No, little plastic man. You will not get wonderfully posable joints and a rubber band connecting your torso and pelvis. Nor will you get a big ol' bonnet the color of some fruit, such as blueberries or, perhaps, strawberries. No! For you, my little plastic man, I have something special planned. I will melt your legs together and give you a unileg!"
At this point the plastic man (Everybody knows I'm talking about a generic man made of plastic, right? Not the stretchy superhero guy with no pants, right? Okay, good.) is more than a little worried.
"Unileg? What the f--"
Plastic Man God: "Then I'm gonna cut your arms off and ram a metal bar through your--"
The plastic man stops listening at this point. All he's thinking is that there goes his army career.
And I guess that's why I don't get foosball. Those poor, little, identical, armless, one-legged plastic men with a big metal pole rammed through their sides, being spun around. But to say I don't get foosball doesn't mean I hate it. I actually kind of like it. But, what's up with it? Who makes this stuff up? And what is wrong with said person or persons?
So I don't get foosball. That doesn't make it any less of a legitimate game. I mean, I don't get calculus either. That doesn't make it not a form of mathematics,.. hmmm,.. nah. Comparing calculus to foosball is like comparing apples to oranges, or cheese to purple pants. You'd have to be insane for,.. uh,.. what was I writing about? Oh,.. yeah. This story looks long enough.
"But what about my hopes and dreams?" wonders the plastic man, as his unileg slams against the little white ball.
VISIT D.J. HERE.
artid
1116
Old Image
5_6_foosball.jpg
issue
vol 5 - issue 06 (feb 2003)
section
stories