VUVUZELUTION

You might be thinking to yourself Self, i gots a boner n nuthin ta fuckwittit.

That is what a Vuvuzela is like ALL THE TIME, that same state of paralytic helplessness, utter gut-rending despair & bowel-sluicing weltschmerz: that is a how a Vuvuzela lives, locked in a state of utter rudderlessness, of hopeless mopination, for 99% of its existence.

SO UPTIGHT WHITE IMPERIALIST PIGFUCKING SHEEP-CARESSING DOGLOVING BONER-DENYING QUEEN-SALUTING DISEASE-GIVING BRITISH ENGLISH FRENCH EUROPEAN ASSHOLE COLONIALIST WHITE IDIOT FAGGOTS don't like Vuvuzelas? Find them disruptive? Well feck off. Africa found your rape & disease & war & economic exploitation pretty disruptive too. Sorry if you were trying to kick the ball around the pitch while I blew a buzzing horn. You see, I was trying to farm in peace when you KIDNAPPED MY KIDS & MADE ME WORK IN A MINE FOR CELL PHONE PARTS WHEREIN I LOST AN ARM STEVE JOBS!

That's the thing; it's one World Cup, in Africa— get over it. If the South Africans wanna toot a buzzing horn while all these thick-legged troglodytes scuttle about the pitch hither & thither curtseying & saying "After you!" in a thousand different dialects, so be it! It'll all end in a draw any way, with every hairy-limbed athlete of the world entering every other in a groaning mass of shinguarded ecstasy as the world's largest daisy chain spreads out from Bloemfontein & through the congo & across the Nile & frees Palestine & cures AIDS (superbug burns up in an overload of viral concentration like Earth re-entry) and all because FIFA let dem Vuvuzelas keep buzzing. BEcause they are awesome & fuck you.