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While you were asleep: Putin warns US, Beyonce reforms Destiny’s Child, Comm Games closes on dud note

Monday morning. Jesus. Overnight, Vladimir Putin warned the United States, Beyonce brought back 2006, and the Comm Games returned our dessert.

 

 

Putin warns of global strife if strikes are to continue, Trump warbles nonsense.

Everyone’s favourite Prez 4 Lyfe (sorry, Xi) has this morning proved that hyperbole is not strictly the possession of the Americans, as he promised of some sort of worldwide “chaos” if the Trump administration continues to pound Syria, in the same matter, as say,  I don’t know, an adult entertainer behind a closed door in a golf lodge.

Neither acts have approval, nor are the morally correct one. However, everyone’s parents, and their parent’s parents were always told to fear the Russians, and that goes for computers too. A Russian defeated our brother from another motherboard, Deep Blue, so we also have learned to fear them.

However, if the Russian is making the most sense, with the Putin camp stating (via Kremlin statement): “Vladimir Putin, in particular, stressed that if such actions committed in violation of the UN Charter continue, then it will inevitably lead to chaos in international relations,” then perhaps it’s best we adjust our assumptions.

Because, frankly, Trump’s slam poetry is, like all that has come before it, is now officially trying our patience.

 

Get off the stage!

 

 

Queen Bey allows the unemployed to share the stage with her, millennials totes lose it.

People of my generation (or rather those who wrote my genetic code) tend to deify yesterday. Everything used to be better. Our Middle-Eastern War with no solution was better, technology was better (despite the fact it was worse), and above all, our music was better. Which is primarily the reason why Queen Bey decided to allow her long dispatched underclass to share a rather royal moment. To define said moment, there are but four words.

Destiny’s. Child. Reunion. Performance.

Yes, I don’t care that much either, but the Internet certainly does, and the most basic and nostalgia deluded work/school colleague will shortly bludgeon your senses with the news that Coachella was totally jumpin’ jumpin’ – so it’s best we get ahead of it.

 

 

 

Now, as for why she did it, no-one knows. But applying some guesswork, and measuring the iron gauntlet that she’s used to rule the musical kingdom, one can only naturally assume that it was what the Emperors and despots and Heads of questionable states of old used to do. It was, for all intents and purposes, a show of power. Queen Bey rolled out the antique tanks of rumbling dancefloor/first relationship defining hits, purely to exhibit what she chooses to wield, if it takes her fancy, and that she can be a fair and powerful ruler, but only if we recognise that the ornate carriage she’s driving, she bought it.

Muaha ha ha.

That, or she did it to pay the below reason.

 

 

Commonwealth Games closes on a dud note, replete with a questionable cameo.

For many of us, the Commonwealth Games has been a limp procession of the nation servicing itself. A very public display of athletic masturbation. No amount of eye contact could drag our interest. In fact, you could probably argue that the lasting memory was either the PM on his phone, or a handful of Cameroonians blowing off work to go to Dracula’s. 

However, we might have a new winner, coming from Kingston via every wedding/engagement/wake where someone wholly inexperienced bullies the paid DJ off the decks to play the same dreck from the agreed upon playlist, but you know, far worse.

 

 

Now, the term “legacy risking” is a hefty one to throw around, but Usain, your emcee urinates on themselves for hygiene purposes. Although, to be fair, it was a fitting end to the Games. A bunch of people paid to make it seem like they were having all the fun.

 

 

 

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