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It’s me, Loco Arrogancia, President of my country’s soccer federation and protector of the male part from the fake feminists. I’m writing in protest, asking: what chica wouldn’t want to be kissed by me, with a face that looks as good as a piece of prime rib, not to mention the heroic line of my pants?
These fake feminists see my congratulations as a punishment. You’re trying to question a man just because, in a moment of victorious euphoria, he seized himself – and then seized a woman too. Isn’t that what a Machista naturally does when enjoying a victory in which he had no part: seize it and seize it now?
And anyway, what incident at the Women’s World Cup could really be that serious? So serious that I should be banned from FIFA for 90 days while my country considers sacking me even though my beautifully polished head and shoulders are so strong I can throw a female footballer over them like a sack?
Yes, my hands found my trousers in the presence of the Queen and her daughter as I stared at my boyfriend, the head coach on the pitch, as if to say, ‘Even here, in the midst of all these screaming women, we know it’s us .” the true kings.” But what’s wrong with that, knowing that I’m the real dictator who created the triumph on the field?
Is a kiss a reason for resignation? Yes, so I pulled this young woman to me with a relentless squeeze of my arms, my excitement overexcited, in an embracing hug that didn’t take no for an answer. It was a hug that said, “I’m a performer here too, and I won’t be ignored.” I asked her—so softly that you never see my lips move on the video of the trophy ceremony—”A kiss? ‘ And I put my very large hands around her head and pulled her to my very slender head which was standing up like a column of hormones or maybe like a mushroom and hit her on the mouth.
Who doesn’t like the texture of a mushroom?
FIFA temporarily suspends Spanish football official Luis Rubiales
I refuse to accept any wrongdoing in a brief kiss on the mouth so spontaneous and euphoric it almost knocked her out of her cleated shoes. It was completely mutual – eventually she kept completely silent until she said no.
And then in a post-game video, she can be heard saying something like, “That was gross.”
And now she’s issuing a statement protesting my impulsive enthusiasm as a sexist act that she didn’t agree with. She claims I made up her permission, which never happened.
I can’t understand her statement.
People don’t realize how I and the other men in my federation have suffered at the hands of these false feminists. They’re trying to destroy me – all the players said they will resign if I’m not replaced. If I survive professionally, we’ll see how many of them come back to their country. In the meantime, I and my federation have informed these Chavalitas that we can force them to play, threatening legal action against them for their rebellion and their audacity against my authority.
So you can see how I always seek their approval. However, who would not want to follow my orders coming from a mouth as noble and outstretched as that of a generalissimo?
Okay, yes, we men slept late like we were in a coma when Sleeping Beauty spoke about the opportunities for women’s football in my country. But eventually we woke up and bought them some jerseys. Now we’re fully aware of the revenue and glory we have for ourselves – and when they feel our brunt, the bogus feminists still complain about lack of funds and poor training methods. And about a trainer who allegedly forced them to keep their hotel room doors open so he could control their bedtimes and required them to tell him who they’d been dating.
But isn’t that what you do with daughters?
The Spanish Football Federation is in turmoil. Here’s what you need to know:
These fake feminists almost seem to think I intentionally trampled on their World Championship win with my vocal defense of a “little kiss” on the mouth and my refusal to make any concessions to what they see as behavior straight out of The Taming of the Shrew ” until I seem as stupid and mean as I am sexist. They seem to smell a strong musk scent, an unspoken message along with my physical and verbal cues in which I insist that she is “lying” when she says it was undesirable and that it was she who put her body close to it moved me. A message that says, “Don’t win; It’s not worth it because I’m going to find a way to humiliate you somehow.” They turned the World Cup celebration into a week-long accusation that there are still men in control of the game who would force women to comply – and force them to say they liked it too.
As for me, I’m just trying to put everything and everyone in their right place.
Source : www.washingtonpost.com