A Great Day at the Emirates, Euro Vacation 2026, Entry the First

I had a near perfect day yesterday, the kind you dream about but rarely get. For the fourth year in a row I had the great privilege to go to Emirates Stadium here in London and watch my beloved Arsenal in action. They defeated Fulham 3-0 in a must-win game as they pursue their first Premier League title in twenty-two years.

It’s difficult to describe the love a person can feel for a team and the feeling you get when among your brother and sister fans. That I’ve only occasionally got to experience first-hand intensifies the experience manifold. My first Arsenal match in person was in 1973. I’ll never forget that day.

The missus and I left Berkeley Thursday afternoon opting to fly to London — no other options seemed realistic. 

I used to love flying mostly because airplanes were taking me to new, exciting places. But I’m an old codger now and the inconveniences of long flights are more vexing. Especially the sleeping uncomfortably part. I prefer to sleep comfortably which is why at home I use a  bed, pillows, sheets and  comforter to do my snoozing.

In any event the plane landed safely then we got to sit in the runway for — ten minutes? Half an hour? Two years? — before we could get the hell off. And you know how long that takes.

But we found our hotel, had a bit of rest then went out for dinner. Fish and chips the first night in England, of course.

Yesterday was match day. Getting to the stadium via the underground is like getting any place in London via the underground : easy peasy. I arrived quite early as is my want and wondered around the stadium. I popped into the Arsenal superstore ( called The Armory) and made a few purchases. New hat, new key chain, four programs (one for me, three as gifts for others). Then into the stadium. Let me backtrack here. All day, in spite of coming events, I’d been painfully depressed. Depression doesn’t care where you are, what day it is or what you’re doing, it pounces then settles in when it wants to. But it can be combatted. Going to the match it began to ease, once I went through the turnstiles — poof! — it was gone.

I had a veggie dog then settled into my seat. This was the best seat I've ever had for an Arsenal match. Near midfield and only sixteen rows from the pitch. It was perfect weather for a match right smack in-between cool and warm. The match itself was perfect too. Arsenal scored early and often in the first half assuming a three-nil lead at the break. The atmosphere was incredible, The singing, the chants, the cheers. I soaked it up and loved every moment. I also loved seeing top professionals in action. It’s wonderful to watch them on TV but to see them in person is twice as nice. Arsenal boast some of the best players in the world such as Declan Rice, Bukayo Saka, Gabriel, William Saliba and my favorite Eberechi Eze. 

While the first half was electric the second half was merely excellent as the Gunners held off any notions the visitors had of coming back into the game and continued to create chances of their own cruising to victory. More singing, more cheers. I was a happy boy and this morning I still very much am. We’re off in a few minutes to museums then tomorrow fly to Finland — the homeland. 

It’s all good.

My Consulting Firm, Describing Tables and Killer Crocs All in One Magnificent Blog Post

A Louis XIV table

I recently struck upon a brilliant idea that is going to make a lot of money. I’m going to open a consulting firm. That’s right, your erstwhile blogger, long-time educator and aspiring novelist is going to become a consultant.

Frankly, I think it’s a pretty easy gig. Essentially all you’ve got to do is give people advice on whatever kind of professional issue they’re struggling with.

If they pose a really difficult problem all I’d have to say is: “try googling it.” If that won’t do in a particular situation I can suggest: "ask ChatGPT.” Simple.

(Mind you, I’ll insist on payment in advance — no refunds.)

If someone calls back unsatisfied with my efforts I’ll say: “No hablo inglés.” That ought to do it.

But for the most part I believe I’ll have satisfied customers. I imagine I’ll get a lot of people who are in situations like this: they’ve been in exporting and importing and are thinking of focusing on one area rather than both but they can’t decide which. I’ll just pick one at random and make it sound like the smart choice. I did that for a friend who works at Vandelay Industries. He’s doing swell.

That’s it for this topic, I don’t want to give away trade secrets, after all I’ve got a business to start. Ka-ching.

But this is too short to qualify as a blog post so I’m going to add something about tables. (You’re welcome.)

How do you describe a table? It’s big. How big? It’s brown. What shade? It’s made of oak. It’s scuffed. One of the legs is a bit wobbly. Why are you describing the table? Is there a vase on it? A computer? Food? Is it a dining room table or a kitchen table or is it in a garage? It could be in a classroom. There could be books piled on it. Or it could be bare. It used to belong to your great grandfather — maybe he built it. Or it could be new. Do you have an attachment to the table? Are there chairs at the table? Is it by a window? Does it catch the morning sun? Maybe it has a burn mark on it from when someone placed a hot pan on it. Maybe a child drew on it with a marking pen. Maybe an edge of it is gone — just not there.

Why are you describing the table? What is its significance? How often is a table worth going into detail about? Not often, I should think. Do we take tables for granted and if so is that important given that tables are intimate objects. In reality — as far as we know — tables have no feelings. They do not create. They do not feel. Living things feel. Certain living things, mostly people, create. We can imagine. A table can’t imagine. It just sits there. Day after day. Hour after hour. Month after month. Minute after minute. Year after year. 

Tables have legs. Legs that don’t walk. That’s worth contemplating. Or not.

Have their been any significant improvements in tables over the last ten, twelve, centuries. I don’t think so. There are different kind of tables that didn’t used to exist. Like metal ones. Tables serve different functions than they used to. A table from the sixth century would have been more of a rarity because there were significantly fewer tables back then and less furniture in general. 

The importance of a table isn’t so much in how it looks but how it’s used. What our relationship with that table is.  My original point was about describing a table. You don’t need to say much about them. They just are. A lot of things are. Rocks are. Flowers are. Paintings are. 

Maybe I’ll read a book someday in which the author goes into detail describing a table. One can hope.

(Above I typed the sentence: One can hope, but pre-editing I left a letter out and the sentence read: One can hop. Truth is not everybody can hop. People missing a leg would have great difficulty hoping. Sure they could probably pull off the hop itself but it would be the landing that posed a problem. Thank you for indulging this digression.)

I’ve written about the threat of crocodiles on this blog at least once before. Recently I came across an article in the Guardian about the increase of attacks by the beasts in the Lake Turkana area of Kenya.

Lake Turkana has expanded by about ten per cent over the past decade due largely to increased rainfall linked to the climate crisis and tectonic shifts in the Rift Valley. That expansion has pushed Nile crocodiles closer to villages and fishing communities, leading to a sharp rise in attacks. Kenya Wildlife Service recorded seven deaths and fifteen injuries from crocodile attacks in the past year alone around the lake.

I found the article haunting. It’s incredible to me that in the 21st century so many people are still being killed and even eaten by animals. It is estimated that at least 1,000 people a year are killed worldwide by crocodiles with Nile crocodiles and seawater crocodiles doing most of the killing. By comparison sharks kill about five to ten people a year. 

Hippos kill several hundred people a year, lions dozens and snakes account for 80,000-1000,000 deaths a year. Incredible.

For my part I’m going to continue to live an area which has no crocodiles, no hippos, no lions and virtually no venomous snakes. I’m also not going to visit such areas. We are leaving for a vacation later in the week and the places we’re going: London, Finland, Denmark, are not known for their wild beasts killing people. 

Circling back to how I started this post, I’m going to recommend anyone I consult with that they stay the hell away from croc-infested regions. Common sense.

You Might As Well Believe in Unicorns, My Take on Astrology and Religion

I mentioned to a co-worker that I'm going to be a grandfather for the first time in the Fall. She congratulated me and expressed great delight at the blessed event. But then she proceeded to tell me what astrological sign the child would be and how she has the same sign and how cool people born under that sign are. I said nothing as is my usual response to such nonsense. Later I thought it sad that one would ignore things like DNA and upbringing and the environment one grows up in and attribute a person's characteristics to the alignment of the stars when said child was born. I’ve always hated it when people reference astrology as if it had any basis in fact. 

If I’m wrong, show me the scientific evidence.

Astrology descriptions are written to fit almost anyone, to wit: “you value close relationships but need time alone,” “you can be confident but also self-doubting.” The accuracy is coming from the reader, not the system.

People look for patterns, it’s a way to make sense of things that seem random and unknowable (ya know, most of life). They connect dots between a horoscope and a real event and ignore all the times nothing lines up.

Systems like astrology create the feeling that there’s an underlying order to the world. The sense of structure can be comforting.

It’s also why we have religions. There is little to no historical or scientific evidence to back most of what Christians, Muslims and Jews believe. Holy books are elaborate fictions. They can be instructive in teaching fables and morality but they can also be perverted to do things like demonize homosexuality. People who believe that there’s an invisible man in the sky who controls everything take comfort in the existence of this supreme being. Some people believe he sent his “only begotten son” to Earth and he performed miracles before rising from the dead. This he did to absolve humans of their sins. Makes as much sense as believing in unicorns. Christians often call their organizations “faith-based.” I think of them more as “fantasy-based.” 

While all the power rests in God — by whatever name — people do believe in the power of prayer. Which just goes to show people will believe anything. I told a former colleague of mine who is Christian that a former student of ours had been reported missing. Later he let me know that his congregation was praying for her safe return home. As I understand it his assumption was that God would hear these prayers and think: “I better find this woman and make sure she gets home.” Evidently the all-knowing God had not previously considered her plight. In any case the woman has still not returned home. God evidently ignored the congregation’s prayers. Why? What’s the point of praying if God is going to do what he wants anyway? (It was God’s will!)

Why do people believe that praying will move the needle even the tiniest bit? Because I can assure you it does nothing more than make the person praying feel like theya have influence in a situation in which they are, in reality, powerless.

Astrology, religion and the like give answers for people who can’t be bothered thinking for themselves. A ready-made belief system saves a lot of time and energy. Never mind that the answers it provides are facile.

To each their own, of course. The problem comes when people share their nonsense with others like the woman who tried to tell me about my future grandson months before he was born. When I thought about it later I was offended. Keep that crap away from me and my progeny. In the same way I don’t want to hear about your prayers or your faith or the good book or Allah or sitting shiva or any of the other superstitious nonsense you waste your time with. 

Seriously, people.

Butts, Asses, Rear Ends, and Derrières, Oh the Many Terms For the You Know What

I was teaching my class American slang the other day when the term butt dial came up. From there I was asked about the proper or more common term for that part of the human anatomy that one sits on. Soon I had twenty different terms on the board. My students were bemused doubtless in part because their languages also have multiple terms for one’s backside.

Anyway I thought it might be interesting to discuss each term right here on this blog, though frankly there’s not a lot to say about many of them. I’ll give it a go.

Ass. My preference if you’re not in formal company or “polite society.” Very few people are offended by the term anymore. It’s also the one that is best suited for compliments as in “she has a nice ass” or, of course, “he has a nice ass.” It’s used in certain phrases such as “pain in the ass” and “you can kiss my ass.” (I’ve never understood exactly how telling someone that they can kiss your ass works as an insult. Would you really want  this person — who you presumably don’t like or are angry at — to kiss any part of your body? And what if the person rather fancies you and would enjoy puckering up? There are two variations: kiss my ass and you can kiss my ass. The latter explicitly grants permission. I’ve also heard “kiss my aching ass” though what the fact that your ass aches has to do with anything I honestly don’t know.

Butt. Maybe your most common and basic term. Not to be confused with buttload. The term “BUTTLOAD” actually comes from a genuine historical unit of measurement. A butt was a large cask used primarily for storing wine, beer, and other alcoholic drinks, and it equaled about 126 U.S. gallons (roughly 477 liters). In fact, a butt was considered half of a tun, another old liquid measurement. In terms of referring to what one sits on and defecates out of butt is boring but perfectly serviceable.

Rump. Let’s reserve this for when describing a particular kind of roast or an animal’s anatomy. It’s not used much these days anyway.

Rear end or rear. I don’t know why we would use rear end when the shorter rear is available. But then people do love a redundant word. Rear is suitable, inoffensive, gets the job done.

Tookus (which has various spellings) and it’s half sibling tush and it’s effeminate form tushy. This is a word more commonly used by our Jewish friends. I’ve never thought to employ it but won’t complain if you do.

Bottom. This seems to be popular for use with children and I believe it appropriate with little tykes. But pleas, never describe an adult’s ass as a bottom.

Posterior. It’s nice that we have it as an option but I don’t think it should or will ever become commonly used.

Buns. Nope. I’ve never heard anyone I respected use this term. Let’s not give it anymore space here. Just move on.

Caboose. It’s kind of cute but not cute enough to take it out of mothballs.

Fanny. Absolutely not. Forget you heard it, I’m sorry I mentioned it. Only your Aunt Gladys with the harelip would use it and then only after a third whiskey sour.

Bum. Short and efficient. Nothing wrong with it. Mostly used by Brits.

Derrière. If you think you sound classy by using a French word you’re only half right. It’s suitable for parties.

Booty. As in booty call. This was popular when I was growing up and mostly within the African American community. Whether it’s usage still skews to younger people and among Blacks, I don’t know. It simply does not work today for adults of any color, ethnicity, religion or lodge membership. It’s day has come and gone.

Keister. Your Aunt Glady’s husband, Uncle Hobart will use this but you shouldn’t.  Originating in the late 19th-century underworld, it previously meant a burglar's tool-box or a suitcase, likely derived from the Yiddish or German word Kiste (box/case). It is used to describe the seat, such as "falling on one's keister.”

Tail. Humans do not have tails so forget it.

Heinie. I’ve been around for many decades and have only heard this used maybe a handful of times. It’s dated and fading completely out of use. Or at least one hopes.

Behind. Nothing wrong with it. Fairly common. I don’t know why it would be used in preference to other terms.

Haunches. Maybe it’s a regional thing but — while I know of its existence — I never hear it.

Can. I think it had an earlier heyday. Wouldn’t mind it making a comeback. Don’t know how it started getting used.

Duff. Like others on this list I just don’t get it. But if you must….

There you have it folks, my first ever post about asses, butts, keisters, cans, heinies…..You’re welcome!

Not Happy With the World Today? It's a Celebrity's Fault!

Evidently this is the man who gave us Trump II

Why are we at war with Iran? Why is inflation out of control? Why are civil liberties disappearing? Why are the rich paying little or no taxes while vital social services are being cut? Why do we have a president who is utterly despicable? The answer, I learned last night on social media, is simple. Because of George Clooney. The bastard.

Let me back up a little bit first. I frequent Bluesky having gotten out of the hellscape that was Twitter eighteen months ago. On Bluesky I mostly post about and follow accounts about my favorite English football club, Arsenal. I do follow a few politically-oriented accounts. But not many. Bluesky so far seems to be overwhelmingly liberal or progressive whether the accounts are American or British. As my primary interest is in English football (soccer, to you Yanks) most of what I follow is English born and bred, so to speak.

I followed (now past tense) this one charming woman who posted political stuff much of it displaying her wit. But last night she posted something that was utterly ridiculous. I had a hard time believing she was serious -- she was. The woman was understandably lamenting the current state of affairs vis a vis the presidency and claimed that it was in large part the fault of the actor George Clooney (please note I'm sparing you the actual posts primarily because I don't want to see the stupid things again). It seems that in her mind Clooney was THE driving force behind Joe Biden dropping out of the presidential race some two years ago and this is was led to Trumpy's victory. Evidently she was unaware of Biden's performance in his debate with Trumpy and doesn't recall how far behind he was in the polls nor that he would have gotten squashed in the election. In her mind (what there is of it) had Biden stayed the course we would have been spared Trumpy. Pure fantasy.

One immediate question I had was: why are dredging this up two years after the fact? What possible purpose could it serve to start assigning blame for the results of the last election when we've got so many problems to be dealing with right now and while energy should be focused on kicking ass in the mid term elections which are a little over six months away. In any event she brought it up nonetheless. 

I noted that there were a fair number of responses to her post. I decided to have a look reasoning that people were taking her to task for such a ridiculous comment. I was wrong

Many people decided to pile on Clooney some noting that he no longer even lives in the USA. People on social media do love a good pile on. It's like seeing someone who's just been beaten up and is prone on the ground and giving them a few good kicks to the ribs. 

But some people found other villains. These included -- I kid you not -- Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart. It seemed these two (to be fair they should have included Seth Meyers and probably dozens of other comedians) had the temerity to make jokes about Biden's debate performance and his general displays of ineptitude. If they'd kept their yaps shut or pretended that everything with Biden was hunky dory, Trump would have gone down in flames in the election.

Somehow Jake Tapper was lumped in with the comics and Susan Sarandon (who had been blamed for Trumpy's first election victory) was also blamed. Sarandon seems destined to be a punching bag for the rest of her days.

There's nothing like good old-fashioned finger pointing. However none of those fingers were pointed at all the idiots who voted for the Republican ticket in 2024. Seems odd to me because they were the ones who actually wanted the idiot in office. 

Democrats are often terrible at playing the political game (see Schumer, Chuck). One example is the veritable cannibalism that goes on. It's not just in-fighting its internal nuclear war. This includes finding scapegoats within the party which is a helluva lot easier than fixing existing problems or looking ahead to make a better future. After all that requires work. Finger pointing just requires a finger.

I threw my two cents into the conversation making points similar to those mentioned here. I got a little bit of pushback from a couple of particularly dense people but they were outweighed by those who gave me likes or re-posts. 

More than anything I wanted to get the hell out of the conversation and unfollow or block the offenders. I also wanted to see if I could track Clooney down and ask him if he'd own up to being to blame for the state of the world today. Damn celebrities. 

Frighteningly Real, Welles' The Trial is a Fitting Cinematic Version of the Great Kafka Novel

It’s sad but true that I related to the main character, Joseph K. In Orson Welles’ cinematic version of Kafka’s The Trial (1962). It would be hyperbolic to say that I had a similar experience but I certainly had the same feeling of dealing with a labyrinthine and unknowable bureaucratic nightmare. 

One such occasion was one fine day when I was called into the principal’s office after having taught my first class of the day. I was told to bring along a union rep. I was met by the principal, a vice principal and the school district’s associate superintendent for instruction. I was told that there had been a charge of sexual harassment against me and that I was too be suspended effectively immediately while an investigation was conducted. I was not told who had leveled the charge nor what I was alleged to have done or when or where.

I was then escorted to my classroom to collect my personal belongings. When I tried to turn off my computer I was blocked. A school safety officer drove me home.

I felt like the world had ended. 

The next week was a living nightmare. Sleep was difficult. I spent hours trying to imagine who had accused me of what. I was on the phone constantly with the union president and the school district office. I felt like a pariah but didn’t know what I’d done to earn this awful feeling.

Six days after I was told of the accusation I was told that I had been cleared and that I could return to work. But I was still not told who had charged me of what. I was to learn that some of my female students had been interviewed about me and that my computer had been taken and my search history examined.

(Years later I was to learn that the accusation had been made by a female student who had a grudge against me for my role in a suspension that she’d earned. I also learned that that she’d leveled similar charges against other teachers. More than that I was told that the principal had been admonished for taking the girl’s accusation so seriously and that the principal had been told to apologize to me — she never did which is why I still take such great satisfaction in her having been fired.)

This was not the only — though certainly the worst — experience I had with the school district. Oh the stories I could tell and may yet.

One of the worst feelings we can have in life is not knowing what the hell is going on. You get a note from the principal that says “see me after school.” It could mean anything and the torment of not knowing what lasts until you enter the principal’s office. Having that feeling last for days is what The Trial captures so well.

While watching it I noted that there were stretches when I wasn’t paying attention to the dialogue. This can be a problem in trying to understand and appreciate a film. Not so with The Trial. After all much of the dialogue is circular, repetitive, slightly off, meant to obscure and confuse not inform. The film is more about the surrealism, the camera angles, the disorientation and confusion. 

The Trial gives you a psychologically vertiginous feeling. The world is off kilter and it’s difficult to know your place in it. Or for that matter up from down, right from wrong. Joseph K is at the mercy of….he doesn’t know exactly what.

It is a masterpiece of direction by Welles, liberally borrowing from the German expressionist of three decades before.  Too many people think that other than Citizen Kane all he directed was The Magnificent Ambersons — which the studio butchered. But in addition to The Trial he directed The Stranger, a terrific film in which he co-starred with Edward G Robinson, Chimes at Midnight his ode to the great bard, Touch of Evil, The Lady from Shanghai, F is for Fake and Othello, one of the better cinematic versions of a Shakespeare play.

The Trial wouldn’t be an easy watch for everyone but for some of us, it’s sadly familiar. Anthony Perkins starred as Joseph K and he captured a man struggling in unreality. The supporting cast includes Romy Schneider, Jeanne Moreau and Welles.