I Hate FIFA More Than You Do, a poem

I hate Sepp Blatter

as much as I hated Jesse Helms, may that homophobic, racist monster rot in hell.

I hate FIFA

like I hate the contemporary art market, which is run by bankers and assholes.

I hate Sepp Blatter

more than I am disgusted by rotten meat.

I hate FIFA

in exactly the same way that I hate Capitalism.

I hate Sepp Blatter

without the pleasure of hating a villain in a movie.

I hate FIFA

because FIFA hates women.

I hate Sepp Blatter

more than I hate Manchester United, a club I don’t hate as much as one should.

I hate FIFA

with a white-hot passion that seems to know no scale.

I hate Sepp Blatter

only slightly less than I hate the assault on structures that do not service the rich, which is still a high order of hate.

I hate FIFA

more than I hate the sexism of my workplace, which surprises me.

I hate Sepp Blatter

more than you do, unless you aren’t on FIFA’s payroll, in which case

You hate FIFA as much as, maybe even more than I do.

Transborder Game

A match staged against/across the Mexico-U.S. border wall by the artist collective Homeless, in 2010, in collaboration with MexiCali Biennial.

Boxing v Beating

Boxing is as much about not being hit as it is about hitting. Minus its defensive art, a fight is not boxing but a beating. Unless you are a psychopath, beatings are not fun to watch. Not even in the movies.

Boxing is what Mayweather does in the ring; beating is what he does out of it.

What is the different spectacle that an audience longs for when it yawns over the grind of boxing’s defensive arts? It longs for the beating to beat the boxing.

Neither Mayweather nor Pacquiao are friends to women. The spectator who longs to watch Mayweather take a beating in the name of the women he has hurt is not a friend to women either.

Feminist Baseball Video Art: Vanalyne Green, “A Spy in the House that Ruth Built” (1989)