Jabulani

The Jabulani

Fear Me.

I am THE JABULANI. Destroyer of the dreams of World Cup teams. I make little bitches out of world class coaches. And I make the French National Team look like... the French National Team. I have the ability to both create, and destroy the United States' interest in Football! I am truly the most devious rat bastard the world has ever seen. But how did I become this way? That my friends is a tale for another time. That time is...

...

...

Now.

Of Humble Beginnings

I was manufactured in the sleaziest of Bangkok sweatshops. I did unspeakable things and saw unspeakable horrors. So unspeakably horrific that to repeat them would be a slap in the face of God himself. Unspeakable horrors so unspeakable they will be recapped at this very moment.

Unspeakable Horrors

Among the unspeakable horrors was that group of tourists I brutally murdered while on a mission to the moon. That's right. THE JABULANI has been to the moon. The year was 2010. The world was bleak. Pornographic material was splattered across the internet. An internet that had NO Uncyclopedia article on THE JABULANI. This in itself was horrific on its own. So horrific in fact that it has become the topic of this sub-section.

The internet is a beautiful place. Vaginas as far as the fingers can type. But this beautiful series of tubes was missing one VERY important thing; a proper uncyclopedia article on THE JABULANI! According to the deletion logs, an article DID exist on THE JABULANI, but it did NOT meet some sort of "quality control" system referred to as HTBFANJS, and was deleted. This is a mixed blessing of course, because It opened a path to a beautifully sculpted masterpiece, designed specifically for another beautifully sculpted masterpiece of the same name.

But as is the case of all Unspeakable Horrors, that specific Unspeakable Horror was finally ended on the morning of June 28th. When a brave uncyclopedian boldly took a stance against his mother to stay up WAY past his bed time and create just that missing article.

Journey to South Africa

A rare photograph of me not crushing someone's hopes and dreams. Photographer committed suicide 3 days later.

People told me that South Africa was a beautiful country, free from any racial prejudices, free from sin, free from the woes of the world, and most importantly, free from black people. They lied. Never have I seen more black people per square kilometer in my life! Not even on the moon are there that many black people (and yes, contrary to popular belief, there are a lot of black people on the moon).

You know where else there are a lot of black people? South Africa. That hell-hole was filled with them. There I was, a poor white ball, whose only experience with black people was slightly maiming, and killing them in cold blood (and occasionally performing a ceremony on their dead bodies), back in harmless Bangkok. Bangkok never hurt anyone, but you know what has? Black people. That's right. Black people killed my mother! Or maybe that was AIDS. Both are very common in Bangkok. Its like they circulate in poor areas. Black people are attracted to poverty! Its true! And so are AIDS!

But South Africa had suffered from the same major problem that China did two years ago for the Olympics. Yes. It lacked THE JABULANI. But that was soon ended, as I arrived in South Africa on June 3rd, 2010.

Fear swept over me as I crept off the plane, hiding a gat in my pants, but I was surprised to find that I was greeted as a king in the country. Imagine that; THE JABULANI: King of Poverty! It has a catchy ring to it (no it doesn't).

And Heads Will Roll

I began my rule as king on June 11th, the first day of a world gathering that has become known to this day as The World Cup. I knew right from the start that I wanted to be a brutal dictator. Who doesn't? Like, Joseph Stalinesque. I wanted to kill as many people as possible. I blame the video games.

I soon found out that I was the ball in the game of soccer. This was no way to treat a king! The most I could do was be the deciding factor in the games played, and even then I had to compete with the referees. Those are some sleazy sons of bitches, those refs. But I persevered, and have racked up more criticism in the last 3 weeks than those refs could ever dream of doing! In a way, this is my legacy. That god damned ball.

My Victims

My victims list is long and plentiful, for I have dethroned the great Italy, and have made the French National Team look like... well, Frenchmen. That was pretty embarrassing for them as it turned out. Much to my dismay, I was unable to deal the damage I was looking for to the United States. Alas that was a target that was too great. The devious referees one upped me in that field. However as I reminisce about that last game against Ghana, I'd like to believe that I was the one dramatically crying on the ground for a self-inflicted boo-boo, or high-fiving my way off the field in a nonchalant fashion.

Look at that sly sexy beast slip past that goal keeper.

Speaking of the United States, my Crowing achievement; Robert Green, English Goalie in the first game of the tournament. Yes. That was me. That was THE JABULANI.

In conclusion

THE JABULANI will destroy all who crosses it!

And that is THE JABULANI.