It’s seldom these days that I laugh out loud at anything I read online. However, your photo of “mass simulation“ had me figuratively rolling on the floor. (At age 88 I don’t actually roll on the floor because I can’t get up again, but I did move about quite a bit in my recliner.)
I live in Kansas City, which is one of the World Cup host cities. I plan to treat this like a pending snow storm by buying lots of food and toilet paper and staying locked inside for a few weeks. Party on!
Having vacationed in Quebec for a few weeks, “my asthma” is immune from the ooze. The smell of that city sticks in the air like a cheap beer and White Castle fart aka Kentucky cologne.
Before I even finish the second paragraph, I want to applaud and commend you for this VERY clever characterization: “… “soccer.” (Under the metric system, it is called “football.”)”
It’s not even 6am here and I’ve already fulfilled my daily guffaw quota.
Dave, I was really enjoying your report on the '98 World Cup in Paris. But then I realized it was a work of fiction when you said the French waiters were in a good mood.
Right?!? Although it does explain why, after exhibiting "a good mood" in 1998, they've doubled down ever since on snooty, disdainful, and, as the french say, "le peesed".
I'm glad to hear that, Lynne. Having never been to France, I have to base my comments on popular stereotypes -- which doesn't seem so clever when I put it that way.
What on earth has happened to that poor man one up from the bottom left in the picture of the fatal injuries? You can see why he is writhing on the ground in agony: he has three knees, one of which is bent at a highly unnatural angle, and one of which ends in his hand, of which he may also have three.
Things get really nasty when you have a match against Chatbotistan, apparently.
Also, we should probably be most worried about whoever's disembodied hand is on the shoulder of the guy to the right and slightly forward of the one you're talking about. At least all of his body parts are still attached and 3 legs is probably an unfair advantage in soccer so taking one out just levels the playing field.
Lessee, they play a 90 minute match plus an unknown amount of time. How can they expect to run a two minute drill when they don't know when two minutes are left? Then there's the irony of spending 90 minutes playing to say, a nil/nil tie followed by a shoot out with the final score of 115 to 114. How about we just do the shoot outs and save a bunch of time?
Yes, it's a beautiful game, but so is watching paint dry.....if you have the right color.
Americans are too acclimated to instant gratification sports.
Soccer is 90% anticipation, 2% scoring, and 8% people falling on the ground, faking injuries. When there IS a goal, and people are excited about it, the dopamine rush is insane. Watch with some Brazilians. You will get a contact high purely from their enthusiasm.
Exactly. I started watching “futbol” after seeing Ted Lasso, and became a real fan when Ryan Reynolds’s bought Wrexham. The game humbles me as an American, and makes me embarrassed that our sport is some how Football—where our players dress in armor and repeatedly try to just kill or maim each other, while sponsors relentlessly try to get us to buy stuff that will ruin our lives.
I’ll watch baseball—but that’s the only American sport that doesn’t insult me or bore me to death.
You made me nostalgic for Paris/France. The French have always been very kind to me, especially when I try to resuscitate my high school French. (Although where I live, people always assume I am French.)
re: intensity of soccer has no limits: I was in two soccer leagues in my 30s. One was a women's, the other co-ed. My women's team had a German coach. The games were brutal. One of the last games I played I got headbutted (non-kilt related) in an eye. I did the customary flop down on the field. Within minutes my eye and surrounding area ballooned with some blood out of my nose and eye. The coach gave me an ice pack. I sat watching the game. At some point the coach asked if I would get back in the game. He said no one would come near me looking at my face. To this day I don't know whether he was joking or serious (he was a tough coach from Germany) but I said I had to leave. So I am walking down the road and a housemate happened to drive by. He thought I had been in an accident and took me to the ER. Doc said I was lucky I didn't lose my eye. I still enjoy watching fútbol.
My only exposure was years ago while I was killing time in Heathrow waiting for a flight home. There were some fine Irish lads also at the bar -shocking - waiting for their trip to Italy for their football match and they welcomed me into their pre-game party. What a great time! Then again, the Irish have a good time at anything.
It’s seldom these days that I laugh out loud at anything I read online. However, your photo of “mass simulation“ had me figuratively rolling on the floor. (At age 88 I don’t actually roll on the floor because I can’t get up again, but I did move about quite a bit in my recliner.)
Points awarded for the name. Wexelblat is genuinely cool in a nerdy way, as all of the coolest things are. 😎
Originally Wechselblatt
Still pretty dang cool.
Shoulda kept the second T
I am so glad I am not alone in not being able to get up again from the floor. Aging is not for sissies.
I live in Kansas City, which is one of the World Cup host cities. I plan to treat this like a pending snow storm by buying lots of food and toilet paper and staying locked inside for a few weeks. Party on!
Me, too, in Atlanta!
Now just imagine how much better the French World Cup would have been had they been wearing deodorant.
You think the French are bad? I dare you to brave the miasma oozing out of any Wal-Mart.
Oozing Miasma. I think you've been practicing creating rock band names.
Ha ha ha!
Guilty as charged.
Having vacationed in Quebec for a few weeks, “my asthma” is immune from the ooze. The smell of that city sticks in the air like a cheap beer and White Castle fart aka Kentucky cologne.
“Scottish Buttocks” would be a good name for a band; heck, it probably already is.
Your poll question about rock band names should've included this option: "Ketchup-Intensive Nations." I would definitely attend one of their concerts.
MerryCatholic.substack.com
I prefer Scottish buttocks over graphic peacock sex. I’m still scarred from that.
Really? My GF wants to try that tonight.
We're not there yet, my man.
Before I even finish the second paragraph, I want to applaud and commend you for this VERY clever characterization: “… “soccer.” (Under the metric system, it is called “football.”)”
It’s not even 6am here and I’ve already fulfilled my daily guffaw quota.
"Guffaw Quota" would be a great name for a rock band.
Seems like an alias for the Rock Bottom Remainders.
Har! 😆
Dave, I was really enjoying your report on the '98 World Cup in Paris. But then I realized it was a work of fiction when you said the French waiters were in a good mood.
MerryCatholic.substack.com
Right?!? Although it does explain why, after exhibiting "a good mood" in 1998, they've doubled down ever since on snooty, disdainful, and, as the french say, "le peesed".
What, French waiters in a good mood? That's just crazy talk.
I was in Paris last October and I thought I was in Mexico. It was nice and everyone was nice.
I'm glad to hear that, Lynne. Having never been to France, I have to base my comments on popular stereotypes -- which doesn't seem so clever when I put it that way.
Dang, I came here to say this. This cannot possibly be true.
Whose turn is it to bring the orange slices and juice boxes to the World Cup?
What on earth has happened to that poor man one up from the bottom left in the picture of the fatal injuries? You can see why he is writhing on the ground in agony: he has three knees, one of which is bent at a highly unnatural angle, and one of which ends in his hand, of which he may also have three.
Things get really nasty when you have a match against Chatbotistan, apparently.
Also, we should probably be most worried about whoever's disembodied hand is on the shoulder of the guy to the right and slightly forward of the one you're talking about. At least all of his body parts are still attached and 3 legs is probably an unfair advantage in soccer so taking one out just levels the playing field.
Lessee, they play a 90 minute match plus an unknown amount of time. How can they expect to run a two minute drill when they don't know when two minutes are left? Then there's the irony of spending 90 minutes playing to say, a nil/nil tie followed by a shoot out with the final score of 115 to 114. How about we just do the shoot outs and save a bunch of time?
Yes, it's a beautiful game, but so is watching paint dry.....if you have the right color.
Americans are too acclimated to instant gratification sports.
Soccer is 90% anticipation, 2% scoring, and 8% people falling on the ground, faking injuries. When there IS a goal, and people are excited about it, the dopamine rush is insane. Watch with some Brazilians. You will get a contact high purely from their enthusiasm.
Exactly. I started watching “futbol” after seeing Ted Lasso, and became a real fan when Ryan Reynolds’s bought Wrexham. The game humbles me as an American, and makes me embarrassed that our sport is some how Football—where our players dress in armor and repeatedly try to just kill or maim each other, while sponsors relentlessly try to get us to buy stuff that will ruin our lives.
I’ll watch baseball—but that’s the only American sport that doesn’t insult me or bore me to death.
Basketball!
Baseball doesn't bore you? Are you sure you're watching baseball?
I don't disagree Christie, but you might be a tad high on the 2% scoring. :)
Dave has an article in some book where he took Sophie to watch soccer. Read it.
Was that legal???
The adult son listening to the cackles while I read this is concerned.
You made me nostalgic for Paris/France. The French have always been very kind to me, especially when I try to resuscitate my high school French. (Although where I live, people always assume I am French.)
re: intensity of soccer has no limits: I was in two soccer leagues in my 30s. One was a women's, the other co-ed. My women's team had a German coach. The games were brutal. One of the last games I played I got headbutted (non-kilt related) in an eye. I did the customary flop down on the field. Within minutes my eye and surrounding area ballooned with some blood out of my nose and eye. The coach gave me an ice pack. I sat watching the game. At some point the coach asked if I would get back in the game. He said no one would come near me looking at my face. To this day I don't know whether he was joking or serious (he was a tough coach from Germany) but I said I had to leave. So I am walking down the road and a housemate happened to drive by. He thought I had been in an accident and took me to the ER. Doc said I was lucky I didn't lose my eye. I still enjoy watching fútbol.
"non-kilt related." Good one!
My only exposure was years ago while I was killing time in Heathrow waiting for a flight home. There were some fine Irish lads also at the bar -shocking - waiting for their trip to Italy for their football match and they welcomed me into their pre-game party. What a great time! Then again, the Irish have a good time at anything.
Still couldn't care less about soccer, but really enjoyed this column.
Je pense que ce serait glorieux que Rock Bottom Remainders interprète le Chant de Combat de la Baguette !
This is what I posted this morning:
"Outre le fait de brandir les baguettes, les Francais ont aussi, historiquement, ete tres doues pour la conduite en marche arriere,"