HEADS TRIUMPHANTLY ON SPIKES

Fog rolled in last night. I had stepped outside for a smoke, and noticed interesting shades of light pink-grey shading into pale blueish grey over the buildings to the West. Later, upon my return, there were foghorns. It had been quite warm during the day but dropped nearly twenty degrees. Which is perfect World Cup Soccer weather, too bad it's being mostly held in overheated parts of the world.

How remarkable that Texans by and large have totally fried brains whereas most Mexicans maintain their sanity quite well, thank you. Must be the good food and muchísimas bebidas frías y refrescantes.

Not surprisingly, Dutch fans have been somewhat reluctant to cross the border from Mexixo into the United States. They've heard that there are violent crazy people all over the place, inedible food, and watery horrid beer. And there's no decent coffee.


Someone should tell them that's just Texas.
We're not all like that.

Soccer is a remarkable game played by many people world wide, and, consequently, sneered at by most "real" Americans who despise wussy things like civilization.
Or cuisine. Or literacy.

Being a total pessimist, I fully expect mass fights when the Dutch fans discover that American fries are sh*t, and ask for Mayonnaise and peanut sauce.
And the limited supply of drinkable beer runs out.

All they have is Budweiser, Coors, Michelob, and something called 'Lone Star Beer'.
There's also Shiner Bock, which might be okay, but no one knows.

Frito pie? A reasonable excuse for mayhem.

Oh, it will be splendid!



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