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I met a traveler from a pungent state
Who said —”Three bland and pointless plates of chrome
Sit in the rubbish. . .Near them, far from great
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose dome
And furrowed brow, and choice to favor those of near Ivy League gait
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, next to these lifeless poachers
The drink that fed them, the heart that probably exploded from the drink;
And on the useless plates, these words appear:
My name is OzymandiArmas, Coach of Coaches
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare like the pedestal where an MLS Cup would go if they actually won it in the past or had tried to win it in the future instead of like. Losing to Colorado last weekend”
Hi. Your friends at C&O here. Was there a point to this? No. Did anyone ask for this? In fact, you could say the opposite. Did we do this after we laughed like an idiot at “OzymandiArmas”, which we thought of, alone? Duh.
But also, It’s the international break. Just be glad you aren’t stuck watching highlights or reading more analysis of the Philadelphia game or getting hyped up about Chicago and Minnesota swapping GAM.
Anyway. Donate to New American Pathways if you’re bored: http://newamericanpathways.org/whats-new/wish-list/