It is I, me, Loco Arrogancia, president of the soccer federation in my country and protector of men’s parts from the false feminists. I write in protest to ask: What chica would not want to be kissed by me, with my face as handsome as a piece of prime rib, not to mention the heroic line of my pants?
These false feminists see punishment in the guise of my congratulations. They seek to question a man simply for seizing himself in a moment of victorious euphoria — and then seizing a woman, too. Is this not what a machista naturally does when he savors a victory in which he has had no role — grab it, and grab it now?