Friends, Roma fans, countrymen (Italians)! Lend me your ears. I come to bury Lippi, not to praise him. Cause what kind of joker deserves praise for dissing the best thing since Pizza Hut started doing lasagna? Yeah, now his career is all dried up and crustier than the bathroom at Sbarro, and my outlook is looking more golden than that thing I did with the register chick in the bathroom at Sbarro.

Not that I'm a hater. Gio's got enough love for everybody, even a washed up old hack who wouldn't know a world class player if it kicked him in his stupid ugly smelly old man face. And I can never be happy when my beloved Azzurri are out in the group stage. I was real messed up over it. One of the lowest points I've seen in all my years of watching ill couchio with the sound turned down and the curtains closed. My cousin Nicky tried to cheer me up by having me take him to my favorite Italian restaurant, Olive Garden, and I barely touched my Tour of Italy platter (still ate all the artichoke-spinach dip, though. Nothing like genuine Italian cuisine to ease the pain). I couldn't even get too excited when the waitress told me how sick my blowout looked. Still popped my Armani Exchange shirt off for her though. Once a player, amirite? Although I ruined it when it fell in my sauce. I swear, I lose more shirts this way...

And since we're on the topic of me, I watched the US-Algeria game at home the other day. I tried to go to a soccer bar with some American fans, but they threw things at me and yelled "traitor." I think they were mad about my choice of wardrobe, but your boy's gotta rep Algeria, they're next door to a former Italian colony. Some people just don't understand. One passport can't contain all this clutch. Speaking of clutch, you gotta hand it to my boy Landon Donovan. He's such a great player. Almost good enough to get left out of the Italy squad.

Now there's an ambition for all you young soccer players out there.