Stephanie Clifton was in the CIA. At the moment she was striding down an internal hallway in the CIA headquarters at Langley, Virginia. She entered the office of her superior, who bade her sit down. He said

"Ms. Clifton, your next assignment will take you to South Africa, for the 2010 World Cup. Your mission is to gather valuable intelligence on the mood of the world. We wish for insight on the minds of men from other countries. Your on sight observations may prove valuable in the formulation of policy. What's important is that you provide accurate, detailed reports, untainted by bias or personal prejudice. If you think to pull punches for political reasons then you are in the wrong business. Politically tinged reports have no place in Central Intelligence Agency. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." said Stephanie Clifton, simply.

"Intelligence is a lifelong pursuit." said her superior, for emphasis.

"I understand."

"Very well. Now, I'm given to understand that your son, Kenworth, is quite the soccer player. How would it be if he were to accompany you to South Africa....for cover?"

"Kenny?" asked Stephanie.

"You appear to have reservations. I understand that this is an unusual request."

"It's just that I wouldn't wish to be distracted from the performance of my duties by my responsibility as a parent."

"The two go hand in hand. This is a safe mission." said her superior flatly.

But Stephanie knew otherwise. Kenworth wasn't just a soccer superstar, he was a brilliant young genius, and her constant fear was that the company would take him away from her.

Paul Simon - 'The Boy in the Bubble' Live in Africa:

By diegonomics 12:24 a.m., May 11, 2010 > Report it

Diego, I say this out of love, I think you're cool beans, but you never have to include "Virginia" when you type "Langley". It would be as ridiculous as typing "Buenos Aires, Argentina". Or perhaps a better example, if I tell you that Newell's won by six goals over the weekend, I'd have no reason to include that they are "Old Boys". And if I did include it, that still wouldn't mean a damned thing to anyone that didn't know what I was talking about to begin with. Langley and CIA are like Boca and River. Those who get it, get it, and those who don't won't, no matter how you refer to it.

By refriedgringo 1:09 a.m., May 11, 2010 > Report it

Point well taken, RF:)

Stephanie was medium height, medium build, good looks, maximum bandwidth. Smarts- she had them. She shoved her dirty blonde bangs to the side of her forehead and peered intently at her superior, a silver haired gentlemen that though in his sixties was not grizzled and never would be.

A knock was heard at the door.

"Enter." said Stephanie's boss.

The door opened and 'Tino Escudero sauntered in, dressed in an olive green short leather jacket that made him look like a bullfighter, slacks, and dress shoes. His black mane was combed back , ala Antonio Banderas. He was an Argentine operative whose, ahem, card was on loan to Langley.

"Close the door behind you. Were you born in a barn?" said the boss.

"I see you've read my dossier." said Tino, winningly, while closing the door.

"Oh for God's sake. Mr. Escudero, this is Stephanie Clifton, you'll accompany her to South Africa. Stephanie, meet Tino Escudero."

"How do you do." said Stephanie, noting the 'This is already getting more interesting' look in Tino's eye.

"You'll be responsible for Ms. Clifton's safety and well being throughout the trip, though you'll receive breaks during the soccer matches when your consciousness will obviously be fused on the game, and you'd be useless as a bodyguard in any case....

Stephanie looked over toward her boss and gave him a significant look. He continued

"Forget any pretense of machismo. Ms. Clifton will be in charge. However, in consideration of your massive Argentine ego, and miniscule Argentine pocketbook, its been decided to allow you to hold the credit card, and pay expenses."

"As any gentleman would....I imagine." said Tino.

"Yes, well, here you are." said the CIA case officer, holding out a platinum credit card to Tino. He took it and pulled out his wallet to stick it in. As he did, two slips of paper fell out, which Tino retrieved a little too quickly, the boss thought.

"Whats that?" he demanded.

"Nothing, eh, phone numbers-" said Tino.

"Let me see."

"No, its nothing." insisted Tino.

"Give those notes to me now or I'll call security."

Tino handed one of them over. The CIA case officer looked at it gravely, and said

"A betting slip- Argentina to win the World Cup. Hmmm..."

Tino shrugged and tried to smile, saying

"A sentimental favorite- you understand, no?"

"Only too well. The other betting slip. Give it."

Tino winced and turned it over. The look on his face was not good. The boss reviewed it, and his face turned red.

"England to beat USA in game one?!"

"Its a longshot bet." said Tino, shrinking into his seat.

"I should think so. Because we are going to beat England worse than we did in the Revolution, do you hear?"

The Goals of Batistuta:

By diegonomics 11:27 a.m., May 11, 2010 > Report it

Stephanie and Tino went to East San Diego, to pick up Kenworth. He was at a soccer game being played at Hoover High School, and it was a money game. What that meant was that a group of gangsters from diverse parts of the world (remember, East San Diego) had gotten together and decided to bet on a live soccer game, and let the youngsters go at it.

Stephanie and Tino arrived, and Tino began to tape the soccer match with a pretty rad Leica digital camera that shot motion picture quality video. Stephanie hovered about the sidelines, watching her son, Kenworth.

It was a very hard fought match, 0-0 going into the second half of play. Kenworth was covered in sweat, battling for the ball and the breakaway, being shoved about, throwing his body to the side to avoid a disastrous collision of bodies on a contested 50-50 ball, chesting the ball down and blazing down the field, only to be tripped from behind, and blasting down to the ground, rolling to protect himself, then grimacing while laying on the ground in an effort to draw the call. At that point Stephanie was not about to remain silent.

"Red Card! Red card!" she screamed at the referee. An incredibly hot, probably underaged Asian young lady with a veritable super ass strode up to Stephanie. It was Kenworth's girlfriend, Amy. She said

"What are you doing here?"

"Amy?" said Stephanie, in total shock at her attitude.

"Kenworth doesn't need you. You're never here for his soccer games, never. And now you are. I smell a rat. Kenworth told me what you do for work."

Just then the assembled crowd began to roar, and Stephanie and Amy both turned to the field.

The soccer ball was in the air, on the fly, with a good chance. But it was too far forward toward Kenworth's opponents goal to field.

Then, with everyone watching, Kenworth turned on a burst of speed, slid just as the ball was going out of bounds, hooked it, popped up, reversed course as the defenders swarmed upon him, got through, unbelievably, and blasted a shot to the goal unbelievably fast, and almost from the end line. It ricocheted off the far side bar and slammed into the goal at over sixty miles per hour.

Everyone went absolutely nuts, even the losers. It was beyond a shadow of a doubt the greatest goal Kenworth had ever scored. Tino ran out onto the field holding his video camera low and getting Kenworth's reaction. Tino loved to videotape soccer, and this goal was from another planet. Kenworth's teammates mobbed him, and as he got lifted up, he pumped his fist at Amy, only to see a woman shouting and waving her arms. 'Mom?' thought Kenworth.

Green Day, '21st Century Breakdown Live' in Munich

More like this:


Robert Hagen Oct. 12, 2010 @ 3:12 p.m.


Kenworth jumped down, sprinted full speed toward his mom, went down on his knees and slid, into a nice 360 that was his patented celebration. Tino was filming everything, went to the soccer mom, as Kenworth leapt up and embraced her.

"Mom, did you see that?" Kenworth exclaimed.

"Yes! It was incredible!" said Stephanie Clifton, hugging her child tighter.

Now the losing gangsters had come to their financial senses, and were rushing toward the sidelines, toward Kenworth, yelling some crap or other about off sides, which was ridiculous, but thats soccer for you.

Tino pulled out a pistol and began firing into the air, as he rushed toward Kenworth and the soccer mom.

"Aaaagghhh!" screamed Amy, whooshing back and forth in an attempt to defuse the situation.

A gangster went to draw his piece and Tino clubbed him over the head with the muzzle of his pistol, then side kicked him so hard he went into the air and landed flat on his face.

"We leaving, games over, soccer riot! Beckham assho&es, Beckham all the way!" yelled Tino, as he herded Stephaine and Amy and Kenworth away from the field of play. He made it fast. Next thing you know, they were in Stephanies Dodge caravan, peeling out, just as the cops were lighting up their sirens.

Es Legenda- David Beckham in action:

By diegonomics 6:58 p.m., May 16, 2010 > Report it

The Soccer Mom was driving. Tino was crouched in the rear of the Dodge minivan, peeking out the back window, and with his ears peeled for the sound of a police helicopter. Kenworth Clifton and his super smart, super beautiful girlfriend Amy were in the backseat. They weren't saying much at the moment as Stephanie Clifton drove fast.

"Go to the airport! Go straight to the airport!" said Tino.

"Shut up. Come and sit down. Put your seatbelt on." said Stephanie.

"Mom?" said Kenworth.

"Yes, honey?"

"Who is this dude?"

"He's a friend of mine." said the Soccer Mom, looking at Kenworth in the rear view mirror.

Amy exploded:

"He's a hired killer from Tijuana! The CIA sent him! Oh my God! Oh my God!"

"Darling, be quiet. Kenny, do you know this young lady?"

"Amy's my girlfriend, Mom. You just never met her because you're never around."

"That's enough. Tino is from Cordoba, Argentina. Tino, introduce yourself."

"Hello." said Tino, now in the front passenger seat, turning around to look at the youngsters.

"Hi." said Kenworth, then Amy scrunched her face at him and hugged Kenworth.

"That was a sensational goal, boy. I got it all on video."

"So you're from Argentina, then you know soccer?" said Kenworth.

Tino Escudero just looked at Kenworth. The Soccer Mom turned up the radio:

Beck - Hotwax ->;


Robert Hagen Oct. 12, 2010 @ 11:57 p.m.

Beck - Hot wax - Lyrics and video -

It takes a backwash man to sing a backwash soul Like a frying pan when the fire's gone Driving my pig while the band's taking pictures in the grass Of my radio smash

And I like pianos in the evening sun Dragging my heels 'til my day is done Saturday night in the Captain's clothes Tender horns blowing when my jewelry froze

Yo soy un disco quebrado Yo tengo chicle en mi cerebro

I can't believe my way back when My Cadillac pants going much too fast Karaoke weekend at the suicide shack Community service and I'm still the mack

Shocked my finger spicing my hand I been spreading disease all across the land Beautiful air-conditioned sitting in the kitchen Wishing I was living like a hit man

Face down in the guarantees Jaundiced honchos getting busy with me Because I get down

I get down

I get down all the way

Yo soy un disco quebrado Yo tengo chicle en mi cerebro

Sawdust songs of the plaid bartenders Western Unions of the country westerns Silver foxes looking for romance In the chain smoke Kansas flashdance ass pants

And you got the hotwax residues You never lose in your razor blade shoes Stealing pesos out of my brain Hazard signs down the Alamo lanes

Radar systems piercing the souls You never get caught with the wax so rotten All my days I got the grizzly words Hijacked flavors that I'm flipping like birds

Yo soy un disco quebrado Yo tengo chicle en mi cerebro

Who are you? I'm the enchanting wizard of rhythm Why did you come here?

[Girl:] "Who are you?" [Man:] "I'm the enchanting wizard of rhythm." [Girl:] "Why did you come here?" [Man:] "I came here to tell you about the rhythms of the universe"


Robert Hagen Oct. 13, 2010 @ 12:10 a.m.

"I'll tell you one thing about soccer right now- we're going to South Africa to watch World Cup." said Tino.

"Kenworth isn't going anywhere with you, you f***ing thug!" screamed Amy.

"How old are you?" asked Tino.

"None of your business, you f***ing perv!" cried Amy.

"She's 18 years old, and she's the apple of my eye." said Kenworth, then checking the rear view for his mother's reaction. It was suspicious.

"Amy's my girl, and I think I'm in love." added Kenworth.

"Show me some ID. Show me you're of age." said Tino to Amy.

"She is." said Kenworth.

"How old are you?" asked Tino to Kenworth.

"I'm seventeen years young, what's it to you?"

"I'm checking on the situation. Your girlfriend is too old for you. You suppose to be age compatible."

The Soccer Mom glared at her son in the rear view mirror. Amy was difficult anyway, when she wanted to be. Stephanie Clifton would have none of that.

"Physician, heal thyself." said Kenworth, rolling his eyes.

Just then, they rolled up to the pad, on Ascot Street, on the East Side of San Diego.

Tino jumped out, and said

"Pibes (kids), you going to respect me, because otherwise, I won't take you to South Africa."

"Tino, shut your mouth, its not up to you." said the Soccer Mom.

"Why not? I got the credit card."

"Amy is not going." said Stephanie Clifton, thinking how nice it was to have the upper hand on this young lady that had smart mouthed her not twenty minutes ago.

"I can't leave Kenworth. I'm in love!" cried Amy, on cue."

"If your of age, you're in. But!-" said Tino.

"But what?" said Kenworth.

"You must gain permission from her parents. No exceptions. Do it." said Tino.

Aventura - 'Por Un Segundo'

Stephanie Clifton ended up having a nice conversation with Amy's parents. She was in. In the Soccer Moms pad, Tino was intrigued to see Kenworth's room. On his door was a poster of Barack Obama.

Everyone walked into Kenworth's room.

"Pack, and make it fast." said the Soccer Mom.

Tino looked around in awe. On the back wall was a mural, with Landon Donovan and Cuahtehmoc Blanco, facing each other- and a slogan across the top:'Beat Mexico'.

All around the room were small test tubes in racks, filled with water samples. Kenworth Clifton was a scientist in his own right- and don't ever call him Sheldon.

Soda Stereo - 'In the The Furious City':


Robert Hagen Oct. 14, 2010 @ 12:10 a.m.

"What is that, 'Beat Mexico?'" asked Tino.

"US Soccer, man. Win, lose or draw, I love my selection just the same. But one way or another, the first thing for US Soccer is to beat Mexico."

"So you have a rivalry?" asked Tino.

"No, its more like an obsession. I tell you, I've been playing against Mexicans all my life. Its how I grooved my game. Don't know how I survived to tell you the truth." said Kenworth Clifton.

"Hurry up." said the Soccer Mom to her son. Kenworth started packing, while Tino looked at the water samples. He asked

"What are these?"

"Water samples."

"Why do you keep them? Why not evaluate them and throw them away?"

"Because I'm working on better ways to examine water, and by reexamining my samples, I can evaluate my progress."

"How good are you at this water sampling business?" asked Tino.

"I'm getting better every day. My lab is small, but I'm very careful to do precise work."

"What is your goal?" asked Tino.

"I want to serve my country, and help the world. The best way I know to do that is to protect the environment. Once I come up something better, I'm on it. Hey, Tino?"


"How good are you at soccer?"

"I'm very good."

"Good enough to play in the MLS?"

"Yes. I'm an arquero- a goalie. We're always in demand in an up and coming league. But that was not my destiny, and I'm glad. Soccer is a great game, its the beautiful sport. But I love what I do. I too want to serve my country and help the world."

"You're violent." said Kenworth.

"Yes. Yes I am." said Tino, shrugging his shoulders.

"I'm a bodyguard, and I work in tough places. I know how to deal with people, but I'm not a killer."

Kenworth tossed his head- he didn't believe Tino. Tino looked at the kid, and realized why he was going to South Africa- because the CIA wanted to recruit him. At that moment, Tino decided that he would teach this young genius how to operate on the sly, just in case.


Robert Hagen Oct. 14, 2010 @ 12:19 a.m.

In the Soccer Mom's bedroom, her phone rang. It was Langley.

"Ms. Clifton, you are being redirected to Memphis, Tennesse. From there you will surreptitiously rent a car, and make your way directly to the Gulf Coast, in order that you may examine the Gulf Coast Oil spill, and provide valuable intelligence in that regard."

"I don't have any means to provide any special information in that regard."

"But your son does."

"My son is not in the Central Intelligence Agency, you can't use him in this way."

"But you are. Take decisions, madame."


The phone hung up. Stephanie went into her son's room and said

"Tino, come here for a moment."

Tino could tell by her voice that something was up. He followed her into her bedroom. When they entered, the Soccer Mom turned and pointed a Walther PPK pistol directly at the midsection of his body.

"You know what to do. Drop it."

Tino removed his hawgleg from a shoulder holster, emptied the clip, then the chamber, and tossed the pistol onto the bed. Drama- what would life be without it. He'd heard that San Diego was splitting at the seams, and so it was.

"Now sit on the bed."

Tino went to sit on the bed, but also to close in on Stephanie Clifton.

"Get back!" said the Soccer Mom, and Tino saw her finger curling a little more around the trigger of her pistol.

"Now, relax. Explain to me what is the problem. Obviously you want to communicate with me, or you would not be doing this. Tell me what's happening."

With her Walther PPK levelled at Tino, the Soccer Mom said

"I fear the CIA is trying to kidnap my son."

"Do you suspect me of being part of this plot?" asked Tino, with the most innocence he could muster, and throwing in a few Hugh Grant type eye blinks for emotion. When the chips are down, people always revert to form, or training. Tino Escudero knew how to think on his feet, but most of all, because Tino was never the greatest of geniuses, his preferred method was to ask the right questions.

"Are you?" demanded the Soccer Mom.

"No. And you know the CIA would never tell me anything. You know this."

Stephanie Clifton uncocked her Walther PPK, and set it down on her dresser. She said

"Let that be the case. Because I will kill you or anyone that tries to harm my son."

Soda Stereo De Musica Ligera Live Farewell Tour


Robert Hagen Oct. 14, 2010 @ 2:12 a.m.

For the rest of 'Soccer Mom' parts I-III, visit

scroll to comment #19 and have some fun with it.

This is part 4 - 'Cop Shop'

Buenos Aires, Argentina - Present Day

Young Kenny Clifton was flipping channels, snuggling on the hotel room bed with his girlfriend, Amy. Mando was seated on a chair, in a corner of the room, not saying nothing. The problem with Mando, Kenny Clifton had determined, was that he wasn't interested in saying anything. It was difficult to pry anything out of him.

Finally, Kenny nudged Amy, and whispered in her ear 'Try something.'

Amy, an incredible young beauty, popped off of the bed like an old pro. She was just waiting to get the word from her man.

"Mando, you can't shut us in like this without at least telling us something." She said, strutting back and forth for emphasis.

"No ingles." said Mando, disinterestedly.

Kenny jumped off the bed and threw his fists down to his hips, and said

"Mentiras! Mentiras! You speak English! You understand me! Where is my Mom?! Where is Tino?!"

Mando sighed, and said

"They in Chile. They take a plane to Chile. They supporting miner rescue. Okay, boy? Plus, I never lie to you, I just don't tell you nothing. There's a difference."

"You said 'no ingles', that means you don't speak English, so you did lie." said Kenny, looking at Amy.

"No ingles mean no english. I dont speak English mean I dont speak English." said Mando.

"You're equivocating."

"No ingles." said Mando to the young genius. He knew how to deal with him. Boundaries. Stephanie Clifton and Tino Escudero had taken off like a shot from Buenos Aires, and left Mando to baby sit. Next door, a couple of Buzos were in a hotel room, monitoring, and backing up.

Mando's decision- 'watch tv and sit here.' Mando knew the Soccer Mom would be back for her child, he could tell. Meanwhile, why take chances? He could leave them alone, but they would probably end up having sex.

Mando believed in keeping a tight rein on situations that were dynamic. In other words, he was not going to let the American teenagers have sex alone, he was not going to let them leave the hotel over the short term, and he was not going to become impatient.

"When are they coming back?!" demanded Kenny.

"I don't know, but your mother won't leave you here." said Mando.


Robert Hagen Oct. 14, 2010 @ 12:15 p.m.

Kenny deduced that Mando was correct. He knew his mom wouldn't abandon him. The problem was to acquire information from Mando.

"Where are you from?" asked Kenworth Clifton.

"I'm from Tijuana." said Mando, looking at her.

Smashing Pumpkins - 'Disarm' Lyrics and Video

Disarm you with a smile And cut you like you want me to Cut that little child Inside of me and such a part of you Ooh, the years burn

I used to be a little boy So old in my shoes And what i choose is my choice What's a boy supposed to do? The killer in me is the killer in you My love I send this smile over to you

Disarm you with a smile And leave you like they left me here To wither in denial The bitterness of one who's left alone Ooh, the years burn Ooh, the years burn, burn, burn

I used to be a little boy So old in my shoes And what I choose is my voice What's a boy supposed to do? The killer in me is the killer in you My love I send this smile over to you

The killer in me is the killer in you Send this smile over to you The killer in me is the killer in you Send this smile over to you The killer in me is the killer in you Send this smile over to you

More lyrics:


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