Who is this?
It's me, destiny.
Did I drink too much again last night?
No. Well, yes. But that's not why I'm calling.
Wait... Are you that stripper? How did you get this number?
No! I'm actual, literal destiny. And I'm calling you. Trust me on this one, it's important. Not actually important. But bragging rights are on the line. So, cosmically important. Or something.
You have my attention.
The World Cup starts in just two weeks' time.
Shut up. The World Cup starts very soon, and the People will be filling out their brackets in anticipation. Those who prove adept at predicting the unpredictable will win bragging rights that cannot be taken away for four whole years.
What's that got to do with me?
Well, you're staying with me so far, so I know you're interested. And you should be. Destiny calling and stuff. So, go fill out your bracket and join whatever groups you want to dominate with your superior prognosticabilities. (That survived spell check? Seriously?) Be sure to join Black and Red United's group, though, and SB Nation's as well. Then come back here throughout the tournament to let your gloat flag fly when you inevitably outscore all others.
I like gloating.
What am I, hourly? Everybody likes gloating, doofus. Just go fill out your damn bracket already. God.
Okay, fine! Just one question.
Who should I pick?
Serously? Pick the United States to win it all. No! Pick England to walk out champions! Snort. Pick Costa Rica or Honduras for all I care. Just know that everybody else will be picking Brazil. Seriously, like, everybody.
Geeze. I was just asking. Hey, destiny?
It's what I'm here for. Now... You got any scotch?