Salutations Syndicate Members,
Another Summer draws to a close. This seasonal shift leaves us predictably parting ways for an extended swathe of time. The “Silly Season” of August approaches. Those of us fortunate enough to take a holiday will soon find ourselves on a picturesque oceanfront, lazily thumbing through an easy, breezy, and brainless book.
Others won’t have the privilege. The Spectrum of Syndicate Members spans from those lucky enough to have carved out a niche to those frantically clawing for one through stubbornly thick and unyielding earth. So it shall always remain ; ) ; )
It’s been an exceptionally busy year for our Syndicate.
Rather than cobbling together one Festival of Summertime Irreverence, your
friendly bookie opted to compose a full four syndicates (five if one counts the
papal election) ; ) Predictably,
he now finds himself more “partied out” than Slurms Mackenzie.
“Bookie no want more write. Bookie want read. Bookie hungry
for words. Bookie can’t exude no more verbosity without raw elements. No more
word discharge without fuel ” :) ;)
Of course I still maintain the strength to thank all of you.
Thank you for your bets. Thank you for your riffs. Thank you for your enduring
companionship. We live in a retail world governed by short-term memories,
shallow pitches, and hollow sound bites. It is such that I express my sincere
gratitude for your respect of the Syndicate’s foundational principles. Thank
you for not graffiti blasting the comment section. Thanks for not resorting to
the tactics of “internet trolls”. Thanks for not actively promoting the
Syndicate on your Tumblr account.
In short, thanks for remaining the mature and thoughtful brilliant minds that
make you Syndicate Members.
We may love callow humor, but Syndicate Members will never
resort to the cowardly behavior of dickless losers who enjoy posting
poorly-written crap on Internet Message Boards. You’re my guys! Never!
Syndicate Lines are posted on the Web for the sake of convenience. This
accessibility forces me to delete a half hour’s worth of “Porn Troll” data
every day. Occasionally, I have to delete the useless comments of a
semi-literate imbecile. Mostly, however, I’m busy deflecting the stat-suckling
of some truly sick individuals. Be grateful that you’ll never have to deal with
such sub-human scum.
The “Road to 2014” will be documented via three
“Semi-Syndicates” appearing this Fall. The pieces will resemble the 2009 WMQ
sections; overly esoteric and entirely unfocused. ; ) ; ) Time permitting, I
hope to complete the long awaited Shadow Scholar Music Column, “500 Shades of
Euro Trash”. We’re all addicted to music in some sense. Might as well make a
spectacle of it ; )
Those tangential projects aside, it’s goodbye until next
Summer. I’ll miss all of you. I’ll think of all of you….entirely too much ; )
Be sure to send me updated addresses so I can get those Schwag Packs sent out.
Keep your heads up! Keep striving. Keep working hard! Keep
ignoring those who would interfere with the talent you have to offer this world.
Your Shadow Scholar will always be here for you whenever you need to vent ;)
THE MATCH TO END ALL (WOMEN’S EUROPEAN) MATCHES
Deutschland vs. Norway
vs. 
ALL BETS ARE OFF! Bookie privilege has been invoked. This Final can’t possibly hope to live up to the Germany vs. Sweden Semi-Final, but it should be a lively enough match. Enjoy some Women’s Football while you still can. It will be another two years before you can watch the girls compete in their national jerseys again. I’ll pick with my heart, though I refuse to be disappointed irrespective of the outcome.
THE
PICK: DEUTSCHLAND +1 Goal
The Syndicate
bids farewell to Summer in a very specific fashion:
“Peace with the Metric System”
“I don’t know what to say really. Three minutes to the
biggest battle of our professional lives. All comes down to today. Either we
heal as a team, or we’re going to crumble. 2.54 centimeters by 2.54
centimeters…set piece by set piece….til we’re finished. We’re in hell right now
gentlemen. Believe me. And…….we can stay here, get the shit kicked out of us,
or………..we can fight our way back…….into the light…….we can climb our way out of
hell. 2.54 Centimeters at a time.
Now I can’t do it for you. I’m too old. I look around, I see
all of these young faces and think……..I mean……..I’ve made every wrong choice a
middle-aged man can make. I…ah…. pissed away all my money, believe it or not. I
chased off anyone who’s ever loved me. And lately, I can’t even stand the face
I see in the mirror. You know, when you get old in life, things get taken from
you…. I mean that’s…that’s…...that’s part of life. But, you only learn that
when you start losing stuff. You find out life’s this game of 2.54 centimeters.
So is football. Because in either game, life or football, the margin for error
is so small…..I mean…one half a step too late or too early, you don’t quite
make it. One half second too slow, too fast, you don’t quite kick it. The
centimeters we need are everywhere around us! They’re in every break of the
game, every minute, every second.
On this team, we fight for those 2.54 centimeters. On this
team, we tear ourselves and everyone else around us to pieces for those 2.54
centimeters. We claw with our fingernails for those 2.54 centimeters! Because,
we know when we add up all those centimeters, that’s gonna make the FUCKIN
difference between winnin and losin!!!!!!!! Between living and dieing!!!
I’ll tell you this: In any fight, it’s the guy who’s willin
to die, who’s gonna win that 2.54 centimeters. And I know, if I’m gonna have
any life anymore, it’s because I’m still willing to fight and die for those
2.54 centimeters!!! Because….that’s what livin is!!! The 15.24 centimeters in
front of your face!!
Now I can’t make you do it! You’ve gotta look at the guy
next to you. LOOK INTO HIS EYES!! Now I think you’re gonna see a guy who will
go those 2.54 centimeters with you. I think you’re gonna see a guy who will
sacrifice himself for this team because he knows, when it comes down to it,
you’re gonna do the same for him. That’s a team, gentlemen. And, either we
heal, NOW, as a team……..or we will die…as individuals. That’s football guys.
That’s all it is. Now………..WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?!?!?!?!”
To all of those currently in leadership positions:
Yell like Al Pacino in “Any Given Sunday” when you have to.
Coo like Al Pacino in “Scent of a Woman” when circumstances call for it. Delve
deep like Al Pacino in “You Don’t know Jack”……when you finally realize how
insignificant we all are. :) ;)
We’ll meet again. The Syndicate will return. For the time
being……
“Go kick a ball with a stranger”
Seriously…go kick a ball with a stranger.
--S.S. P.J.W.
