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Auriemma running his version of the triangle: the ol' one in the pink, one in the stink offense.

Auriemma running his version of the triangle: the ol’ one in the pink, one in the stink offense.


Next to human outhouse Tony Siragusa’s beaming pride at shitting and pissing himself like a two-year old, the most misplaced and embarrassing example of phony macho bravado would be the constant nonsense tumbling out of UCunt’s head broad ball coach and certain disappointment to his father, Geno Auriemma.  The other day he was blithering about ovary ball being a superior game to what the sport was intentionally designed to be: an exclusively male game.  What a bombastic jackass.

Other than gynecological exams, there isn’t any activity on earth that highlights the dramatic differences between men and women more than basketball.  Sit through a pair of high school basketball games sometime, one of each gender, and you’ll be absolutely shocked by the absurd gap in athleticism.  The boys can make it up and down the court three times in the time it takes the snail-paced chicks do it once.  Ever see a Showtime Lakers fast break in a girls game?  You’re more likely to see their starting center win prom queen.

Then today I see Bruce Jenner’s favorite coach is at it again, babbling about how a game between a bunch of Amazon lesbos is actually some kind of Thunder Dome.  He was talking like these dyke fests are the Celtics-Pistons wars from the 80’s, instead of just colossal wastes of time for any chick without an Adam’s apple.  Just because coach windbag is clearly not good enough to be involved with real basketball, he pretends like these hardwood tea parties are somehow not just comparable, but insanely, more difficult and therefor impressive to win than the actual Final Four.  That’s like a little league coach comparing his inconsequential foolery to the World Series.

Let’s be real here.  Auriemma literally has the biggest vaginas in the world in his face all day long, how goddamn manly could he be?  And don’t tell me a game where the players need a friggin trampoline to be able to dunk is more exciting than the high-wire act even fourth graders can provide.  Some ten year-old little boy made national news the other day when he went off for four dunks in one game.  That’s more than the entire history of the WNBA.

So in a few days when the UConn broads raise yet another golden tampon or whatever those goofy Sasquatch’s use for a trophy, Auriemma should be secure in the knowledge that despite his laughable passion, once again, nobody cares.



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