Some random Englishman is upset when Americans ape European soccer traditions and he’s upset when they deviate from them.
There’s the curious obsession with ‘tifo’—those enormous banners that are unfurled in stadiums before kickoff. They work at Lazio, Bayern Munich or Boca Juniors. At Real Salt Lake, not so much.
These soccer snobs are so intent on maintaining an aura of authenticity that when they make a slip-up or use an incorrect or ill-advised term, I feel compelled to pounce on them with all the force of a Roy Keane challenge.
There’s no such position as outside back! (It is fullback.) The rest of the world doesn’t call them PKs! (It is penalties. Just penalties.)
I hope it makes him feel better to know that the only thing I know about the World Cup is that Mexico’s goalie is a machine with crazy hair.
Regulating smartphone map apps use in cars. Is there anything too unimportant for our government to boss us around on?
Having taken the spring off to, basically, play video games, I present my Summer reading list:
Theft of Swords by Michael J. Sullivan. I’m already 40 pages in, but given its length, I don’t feel this is cheating.
A Mad Catastrophe: The Outbreak of World War I and the Collapse of the Habsburg Empire by Geoffrey Wawro. Because why did anyone fight? How was Europe ordered before the war? No one knows.
A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson. Everyone raves about this.
The First Thousand Years by Robert Louis Wilken
Gardens of the Moon: Book One of The Malazan Book of the Fallen by Steven Erikson. I’ve heard great things about this series. We’ll see.
Three (Legends of the Duskwalker) by Jay Posey. I got this somehow, maybe an Orbit Book drop. Anyway, if I want a hardcore SF book this is where I’ll go.
Elective Affinities by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. This is a maybe, if I get bored, addition.
Rogues edited by George R.R. Martin and Gardner Dozois. Because look at the authors listed. LOOK AT THEM!
Tis the season for commencement speeches and here’s the best of the lot. I’ve found that if you can pull of number one, the rest are nice, but non-essential.
Oh wait, no I’m not living in an Austen novel. More’s the pity.
Except Mansfield Park. No one wants to be Fanny.
Why has no one mentioned this to me before?