Beer Throwing Thunderdouche Revealed: WAIW Calls for <s>Blog</s> Fight!

Friday, August 14, 2009

Beer Throwing Thunderdouche Revealed: WAIW Calls for Blog Fight!

. Friday, August 14, 2009


As you may have heard, the beer-throwing dick from the bleachers finally turned himself in to the CPD. His name is Johnny Macchione, and unbelievably, his Facebook page is still open to the public. I'm fairly certain that will change soon. If it's not set to private when you read this, then go ahead and look in his photo album. I swear, it's like the fall catalog for some douchebaggy department store from hell. I really did think about posting some here, but that would be crossing the line. You know, like throwing a beer onto a baseball player and then running away while your friend gets arrested.

But you know what? It could be construed as a fairly cowardly thing to just sit on my couch and type insults until it's time to get some breakfast tacos and coffee. So unlike Johnny Doucheionne, I'll go ahead and put my money where my mouth is. For the kids.

Find out what I'm talking about, after the jump

I, John from WAIW, formally challenge Johnny Macchione, noted douche, to gentlemanly fisticuffs. I feel it's necessary to preserve the honor of the Cubs fanbase. All those days that real fans sit until the end 11-2 losses, all our time and effort documenting the highs and lows of the team we love, all the friends and good times we've made because of the team we love, besmirched by some sweatband-wearing girl glasses wearing dick. He's no more a Cubs fan than I am a Samoan fisherman. I would also bet my W flag that he ran his mouth like a big man after he escaped, only to suddenly become what I call "Press Conference Sorry" when someone tracked it back to him.

So, Johnny, if you happen to read obscure Cubs blogs, then please consider the challenge. We'll meet at a proper gym, use the big gloves for awkward white guys, and generally make for an awesome spectacle. If we could somehow get a beer license, it'd be a fucking bonanza. Some preliminary ground rules.

1. No performance-enhancing substances. This includes whiskey for me (angries up the blood), and any combination of Jager and Red Bull for you (bro).

2. 3 rounds, 1 minute each. I know you're a young guy, but some of us have been eating weekly at Portillo's.

3. We give all proceeds to JDRF. Some good should come out of you being a moron and me possibly embarrassing myself yet again on the field of athletic competition. Enough people think you're a douche that I'm fairly certain we could cure juvenile diabetes through through this event.

4. No entrance music. I promised myself I'd never hear Limp Bizkit again if I could help it.

5. To the bar afterwards! I'd like to teach you to drink a beer without turning into a moron and throwing it. It's called "being a damn grown-up."

So there it is. The gauntlet is thrown - for charity, and for honor. Now we play the waiting game



The waiting game sucks. Let's play Hungry Hungry Hippos.


Bree said...

man... i didn't get to read this in full until now. well played... great post.

wolfie said...

I'd like to pre-order first row seats to fightnight. And, John, if your fisticuffs skills are anywhere near your shuffleboard skills, then IT IS ON!!!

P.S. Love the WGN superzoom at 0:55.