Personally, I’m glad the World Cup is over. I don’t care about soccer. Haven’t since I was 6. And here in America we pay as much attention to soccer during non-World-Cup years as we do to bird watching. So that’s why I was stunned when I kept hearing how people were so upset the U.S. lost to Ghana. To me, it was absolutely necessary we lost that game to Ghana. Abso-fucking-lutely necessary. And I’ll tell you why in a moment.

I have a certain, shall we say, bad reaction to the scent of a certain type of popcorn. One that makes me feel the burning sting of bile rising in my throat. I’m talking about the kind of popcorn they make in those fake carnival popcorn carts you might find at an employee function they throw at the office. Not real oil-popped, artery-clogging movie popcorn… This popcorn is bland.. It’s kind of like warm, slightly less toxic, packing peanuts.

So the last decade of her life, my grandmother was bedridden in a nursing home and maybe sometime in the final two of those years in constant care facility hell, in what was either an inspired burst of creativity or the result of a weekend seminar for sprucing up your nursing home (Tony Robbins Presents: “Get Them Into the Light with Dignity… and Jazz Fingers!”) they installed a fake movie theatre popcorn cart in the lobby. Which was great because when you opened the door from the outside, instead of having your eyelids pinned back from the smell of piss, you were greeted by a warm blast of bland popcorn, which as you crossed into the patient area, turned slowly back into that Phil Spector Wall of Piss smell. There was even that moment in the middle where it would be half bland popcorn and half old people piss.

And it constantly made me think how bad someone’s life could be when here in America, a country where there are not only countless types of jobs, every type of job imaginable… beekeeper, horse inseminator, blogger, game show host, wine-taster… and these are just my weekend gigs. But yeah, here in America we have countless types of jobs… every single one of which has an industry magazine… (see my latest interview in Horse Inseminating Game Show Wine Taster Monthly)… but here in America the only job you can get is… wiping old people’s butts.

Now, I’m not talking about being a registered nurse. I’m talking about being a caregiver at the nursing home. Last stop. One foot in the grave and another on a bananna peel sitting on top a roller skate covered in KY Jelly.

I’m talking about the social care worker who has to change your diaper when you become a vegetable…

How few options do you have to have?

But you know why they do it? Soccer.

You know where these people come from, the ones who wipe your butts?.. yeah, places like Ghana. So let them win some game that means so much to them and so little to us, except for the millions of you phonies who never give two shits about soccer but because everyone else is talking about it, you start namedropping Landon Donvan in conversations so that people will think you’re cool. Yeah, phony douchebags like you… you’re the ones who someday will be unable to wipe yourself and will need the aid of a nice lady from a far away poor country… and I found this out… they don’t do it, for the money, what little barely beyond minimum wage they can get… but they do it because they feel sorry for you.

They look down at your white, shit-covered ass cheeks and they feel sorry for the time they beat you in soccer… that they had to humble you in the face of the world by playing the only sport they have to play because they’re so poor they cannot afford to play baseball or field hockey or anything other than the national pastime of catching dysentery. These care workers feel sorry for you… So what do you think, Mr. White Man, is going to happen when these kindly old ladies are no longer sorry for you but still hold a grudge? Yeah, that ass wiping aint gonna be so gentle. That’s gonna be grudge wiping. Revenge wiping.

So think about that the next time you’re so hot on American soccer. Or maybe just go find that Landon Donavan guy and kick him right in the balls and tell him no funny stuff four years from now.