They Said What?

Fearful people build walls; confident people tear them down – Then US President George W Bush, a few days before the 9/11 attack on the Twin Towers in Manhattan. Quoted in the “Easy Chair” leading article of Harper’s magazine June edition

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The beautiful game got particularly ugly today, bringing an unpleasant edge to what has, so far, been the best World Cup I’ve ever seen (with due apologies to Argentina 1978, when Mario Kempes’ Argentina team brought me permanently into the Argentine supporters’ camp).

With only a handful of games playing to draws, and with only two or three fingers of that handful lacking end-to-end excitement, with Neymar making up for Messi and Ronaldo – and with the Flying Dutchman, Van Persie putting in the best header I or anyone else has ever seen at the World Cup and probably ever, with Costa Rica

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My daughter, my first child, turned 16 yesterday. What a fine young woman she is already, so much more than I was, at her age; as is her brother, two years younger.

 It’s what Nature intends: that the generation following should be an improvement on the one before; but my kids have really borne out that proposition. Already, they live their own lives; I began mine at age 30. Yes, they ‘fraid parental boof and, yes, my wife and I can still tell them what to do, up to a point, but, at an age at which I was not even aware

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Thanks, everyone, for the birthday greetings and wishes that came via Facebook. Even if I knew how to see them all (which I don’t – I just read the ones that come up and talk to me like strangers in the mall), I wouldn’t have the Facebook chops to respond to all individually.

The birthday was good, though my daughter, who will be 16 on Friday, might have spared a little too much time for contemplating just how aged I am. It’s funny, both “ha-ha” and “peculiar”: I have a sharp and clear memory of sitting when I was 14 years old and working out (slowly – my arithmetic will never be legendary; at least not for its accuracy) that I would be 42 years old at

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This is the 16th blog I’ve done for the year; even by the most liberal definition of the words, it’s hardly the “Almost daily blogging” promised by my website, www.BCRaw.com; and therein – tangled, mangled, un-thought-out-until-today, but still therein – lies the reason: I write these things as blogs; but most people will read them as Facebook posts; and, whatever blogs might be worth – and they mightn’t be worth much at all – Facebook posts are like nipples on a man: as close to pointless as you can get, giving rise to only one worthwhile thought: why did they bother?

Blogs themselves are the dodgiest form of writing, if indeed they are writing at all. They make the haiku look universal. It’s hard to

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Got an interesting link from my reader-pardner from Brooklyn, Concrete Stand (whose e-nickname, taken from the place where he learned about it, hints at the truth that he knows more about West Indies cricket than our cricket board; mind you, so do most primary school kids). You may have picked up the story he sent me of the wealthy Norwegian man who “forgot” his US$108K boat moored to a jetty in Sweden for the two years, the keys tied to the boat’s railing for all to see. Norwegian police only tracked the boat owner down through a FaceBook post, it seems. (I can imagine

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