I feel like I spent yesterday in some sort of conspicious consumption contest -- today's been an exercise in lethargy, most of it on the couch watching the Czechs pound the U.S. (rather quiet about that, aren't you, Ed?)
Instead of my own words, I give you the latest installment in bitching about the World Cup announcers, courtesy of an e-mail from frequently-referenced friend Fidel:
and you're right about US commentators - i thought the british were bad. if that fecker shouted out 'PK!' one more time for a penalty kick i was going to kick the tv.
not to mention the awful attempts at profundity and poetry - soft focus introductory packages filled with stirring music and a gravelly narration 'when you think of germany, you think of nazis, bratwurst and germs (although that is coincidental) but today we just think of balls'. sepia tinted old-timer triumphantly rips out freshly typed sheet of paper from underwood and stares mistily out the window at space where new mercedes will be parked following abc royalty check, as music reaches crescendo.
perhaps ok to suggest significance of world cup - but then following ivory coast match, coverage of route 66 roadster racing begins. sure enough, sepia, music, typing geriatric: 'when you think of the route 66 speedway, you think of speed..."
In other news, Can't Stop the Bleeding actually provides a pretty compelling reason to root for U.S. success. Fair enough -- beyond the Czechs, I hope the Americans do quite well.