Michael Northrop

This could have been so easy: A few more “Hut, Holland, huts,” a few more positive vibes sent toward the Dutch team… But no, you sat back in classic American indifference or, worse, cheered for Spain. Now, the Spanish have won, the Aztecs are pissed, it’s almost 2012, and far, far worse, Paul the Psychic Octopus has gone eight for eight in World Cup predictions. Eight for eight! Do you understand the significance of that? He’s an octopus—or is he?! Have you seen Paul? Doesn’t he remind you of someone?

See that little boat? That’s you. Jerk.

That’s right, Cthulhu. The Eighth Seal has been broken and The Dread One From Beyond Time, The Profane Abomination From Beyond Space, The Jerk Who Capitalizes Articles and Prepositions will rise, slap high 40 with his little cousin Paul, and set up Dark Dominion over our very existence. And it’s your fault. I hope you will be able to sleep at night, which, by the way, will now be endless.

Meet the child of tomorrow. His name is f’tevangh.