Tales From Pretend 2110-11

I meant to draft a full DONKS WOO!!! (Now With Teddy Ballgame) preview.  But I had a 48-hour migraine from hayell, and I can barely string two sentences together.

Pictured is my record signing, $187M (on tha muthafuckin’ cooooppp) for a 24-year old, dominant keeper.  I am immature, and the phrasing made me laugh.  It also evoked laughter from Imaginary Maple Pal Litre, so I share it with you.

Guess who was the player chosen to welcome him (automatically by the CPU) to the squad?  Our openly gay centre forward, of course!  Briefly, we had three gays in the XI.  I am a progressive unded Pretend Football Manager.  But the other two fucked off home to Spain, after 12+ seasons in Manchester.

Assuming my brain cooperates enough, I will toggle among 2110-11, HAIL GAMBLOR, and maybe making MOAR progress in Rick Perlstein’s Reaganland.  Maybe I will start Book 3 of the Gereon Rath/Babylon Berlin series.  I left the house yesterday, so I sure don’t see doing that again.

Also, I learned this week that my ex-wife and one of the twins (the two folk now living outside of Boulder, CO) have been summoned by Delta Force!  Yes, only the oldest sibling – the one, ironically, who lives in a redneck area and has – by far – the most interpersonal contact…is the only human in the family not to catch one of the #NuAIDS waves.  But the CO branch of the family was already (all of us are now, and have been since like May) fully vacinnated, which is a worry (for society writ large).

So yeah, the stress.  Plus it was so goddamned hot yesterday that my A/C couldn’t keep up all the way.  NEVAR went beyond 77 indoors, but still.  Another worry.

I am quite excite for the 2021 Donks.  Options and competition at QB should help, and neither dude is a dickwad about things.  Maybe it all comes together.  Maybe not.  But July and August are for unwarranted hope, and a renewed commitment to surviving until Most Glorious September.  FITBAW!!!!!!!