Subtitle (If I had subtitle capability on this blog): No, but he can turn water into perfectly-weighted through balls.
I set out today on a mission: To compare Christian Pulisic to Yaweh, aka The Son of God, aka The Redeemer, aka The Savior, aka The Thrilla From Near Afula, but after a quick Google search to see if I’d already written an article with this exact title, I found an amazing article written by a PhD (!) named Wes Burdine who compares Cha Boi to thirteen different deities. Also, I just went through my old blog, and I have written an article entitled “Is Christian Pulisic Jesus?” In it, I expounded on the cultural complexities that befall modern-day Israel, and also posit that while Christian Pulisic might not be Jesus, he probably actually is. I mean, think about it. If you’re Yaweh, and you’re living in 2019, and you’re all-powerful, wouldn’t you want to play winger for a Top 4 Premier League team? Obviously you would. Wouldn’t you want to play for Frank Lampard? Wouldn’t you want people to maybe think you’re having a hard time adapting, think that maybe the price they paid for you was too high, only to eventually silence everyone in a fury of goal-scoring and assists that look like they’ve been placed there by the hand of Michaelangelo?
Again, you would.
Seriously, everyone out there in the disgusting world that is the Twittersphere: Pulisic has played two games. How slowly do I have to pronounce that sound so your deformed ears can take it in? How well do I have to enunciate? If he scores two goals in the next game, you’ll all by eating your words. And then Pulisic will suddenly be the greatest thing since sliced roast beef. And you won’t even remember that a week earlier, while rummaging through the twisted, mal-adapted, stunted contents of your brains, all you could think of was to say things like, “Christian Pulisic wasn’t worth it,” followed by some inane acronym like “LMAO” (short for “Licked my ass onerously”).
If you’re spending more than four minutes a day on Twitter, you need to seriously consider pouring some concrete into your Lacostes and stepping off a pier.
The problem with Twitter is every time you search Pulisic and Jesus in the same sentence the only stuff that comes up is about Gabriel Jesus. Remember, everyone: Gabriel Jesus’s LAST NAME is Jesus. Meanwhile, Christian has the mark of The Redeemer tattooed on his soul (or on his arm next to the bald eagle).
In other news, Chelsea play Sheffield United on Saturday in a must-vanquish match at home. Sheffield United, in case you didn’t know, is one of many teams in the Premier League belonging to a Saudi Prince. Now, you might be asking yourself: How come sometimes when I wake up my right hand is numb when I didn’t even sleep on it? And to that I answer that you probably did sleep on it, you just shifted sometime before you woke up, but the numbness lingered. You might also be asking yourself: Why do Saudi princes own so many football teams? But, I mean, think about it: You live in Saudi Arabia. You have more money than you know what to do with, and all day the most exciting thing that happens is maybe, MAYBE, a thin cirrus cloud drifts across a sky that’s otherwise been blue for the last 6,000 years. That, and you can go to the mall a shit ton, unless of course you’re a woman, in which case you can’t do anything. So what do you do? You buy a football team, of course. And you pour millions upon millions of pounds into it, so now when you go to the mall and sit there smoking sheesha with your friends, you can say, when the game comes on, “Hey look, there’s that soccer team I possess.” And then people can be like, “Damn, bro,” and you go back to smoking your sheesha.