I brought World Cup glory to Spain, so I can kiss whomever I want

It is I, Loco Arrogancia, head of my country's soccer organization and guardian of men's parts from fake feminists. 

In response, I write to ask, "What chica wouldn't want to be kissed by me, 

with my face as handsome as a piece of prime rib, not to mention the heroic line of my pants?"

These phony feminists interpret my congrats as punishment. They want to interrogate a man just for grasping himself in a triumphant joy 

and then seizing a lady as well. Isn't this what a machista does when he enjoys a win in which he played no part - seize it and take it now?

And, in any case, what women's World Cup incident possibly be that serious? 

So serious that FIFA should ban me for 90 days while my nation decides whether to dismiss me, 

despite my wonderfully polished head and shoulders that can sling a female player over them like a sack?

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