gooooal!!!! gol,gol, gooooal!!!
I am so sick of hearing this. Since it's World Cup and I am lost in the third world it's the only news available. We, they,are mesmerized by 'fubol' We, they, listen to or watch every single game of the World Cup.
Supposedly, there are just 65 games in total that make up the World Cup. It's really closer to 65 thousand and they try to play it down. When a game is finished it should be done with but, it is not. On off days when no live games are scheduled yesterday's games or the day's before that are replayed. Endless panels of sports writers, ex-jocks and pundits review every bit of minutia known to man for every team.
In the case of the big name teams likd Brazil, Germany and Argentina we are titillated with their past games. I mean way in the past. Scratchy black and white films from the forties, fifties and so on may be found on several channels far into the wee hours.
It's not that I am so against 'futbol' it's just that as a person not weaned on the game it becomes a monotonous overkill.
Yes, I know, in the U.S. they drone on and on over the Super Bowl and the World Series and a heavyweight title fight but, these are singular events. Even the World Series can't last more than seven games. But, each of these events has an ending. When they're over they're finished until the next time. Not so with World Cup 'futbol'. It goes on for a month and It only takes place every four years so, therefore, its newsworthiness is eternal.
We, they, will relive, re-watch and re-evaluate, each game of the 2006 World Cup, praying the outcome will be different, for the next four years.
We, they, will hear that obnoxious voice a million more times screaming: Goooal!! Gol,gol, goooal!!!
God, if only they allowed pistols in the arena.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
Unlike art and sex, money always arouses interest. - Mason Cooley
MEXICO (as I see it):
In Mazatlan, Sinaloa, Mexico there is a Lenten carnival which is said to be the third largest in the world. The first, of course, is Carnival in Brazil. The second is Mardi Gras in New Orleans and then Mazatlan. These carnivals continue non stop for seven days. I was living in Mazatlan during a Lenten celebration and
feel lucky that I am here to tell about it.
A Lenten carnival is a real circus, if that is possible. The first three days I was able to sleep very little. After that exhaustion demanded its due.
The noise level is incredible. The loudest noise is the music. The duration of each song is exceeded only by the number of bands
playing simultaneously. The decibel level rivals the disco scene
and, remember, all of the bands are outdoors.
I have never seen a greater display of organized debauchery in my life. The plan seems to be to get the largest number of people as drunk as humanly possible and to compact them as tightly together as the oxygen supply will support. Then they are cordoned off into a few city block area and cut loose to dance,sing and do a ton of other stuff.
One is buffeted, pushed, stepped on, rubbed and felt in a crowd so dense that one's arms are pinned to one's sides. There is a nose-to-tail procession that creeps along at a snail's pace. A giant pulsating, bouncing mass of humanity showered in confetti, masked and unmasked, costumed to nearly naked, gyrating to wild Sinaloan rhythms.
My apartment happened to be within the cordoned area. A few
feet from the front gate was a gigantic beer tent. I was so
close to the 24 hour a day action that I soon felt like a carny.
But the worst, or best, of it, depending on what you like, was the 'buena vista' my third floor apartment afforded. Directly
below my balcony, erected over an open manhole, was a two section, open roof shithouse!
Perhaps I'm being a little unfair concerning this spectacular event. Yes, there is some pushing and shoving, some rudeness and crudeness but there is also an exuberance of the human spirit. The atmosphere is electric with energy. It is truly a grand celebration.
The music, constant and vibrant, works its way into your soul and soon has you absorbed in an endless series of hip-swinging, finger snapping and toe tapping activities that translate to any language, any culture.
There is a barrage of stunning colors. A range of fantastic
hues from the rainbow arrangement of the 'carros alegoricals'
(parade floats), to the golden sparks of light emanating from the
ebony eyes of the children.
Styles of dress, representing almost all the states of Mexico, are exhibited in their finest tradition. Bows, ribbons, wrappings and sashes of all the colors the eye can absorb. Whites, leafy greens, lavenders and shocking pinks. Dresses with piping and stripes and dots clinging to mahogany brown skin.
Cowboy hats, silver buckles and boots. The black hair, ivory teeth and red lips provide a panorama as multi-colored as the
confetti which floats about forming kaleidoscopic snow drifts.
The foods, which are served from a thousand carts located in any direction one chooses to walk, are as varied and colorful as the native costumes. Treats from Oaxaca, Durango and San Luis Potosi. Specialties from cities as diverse as Monterrey, Morelia and Merida. The aromas of things sizzling and simmering over fires, built with wood carried from home by the vendors, are enough to make one forget the pageantry for a moment and 'belly
up'.
The myriad of dancers, both professional and regular, are of a special Sinaloan type. They are, at the same time, finely
synchronized and out of control. The dances themselves have a prancing quality about them which can only be compared to the hi-jinks of a parade pony or the stately strut of the peacock.
All in all, I suppose, the aura which surrounds this massive pouring forth of emotion out-weighs the bawdy rowdiness that occurs at the earthly level. Beside we have the next 40 days to
recuperate.
Supposedly, there are just 65 games in total that make up the World Cup. It's really closer to 65 thousand and they try to play it down. When a game is finished it should be done with but, it is not. On off days when no live games are scheduled yesterday's games or the day's before that are replayed. Endless panels of sports writers, ex-jocks and pundits review every bit of minutia known to man for every team.
In the case of the big name teams likd Brazil, Germany and Argentina we are titillated with their past games. I mean way in the past. Scratchy black and white films from the forties, fifties and so on may be found on several channels far into the wee hours.
It's not that I am so against 'futbol' it's just that as a person not weaned on the game it becomes a monotonous overkill.
Yes, I know, in the U.S. they drone on and on over the Super Bowl and the World Series and a heavyweight title fight but, these are singular events. Even the World Series can't last more than seven games. But, each of these events has an ending. When they're over they're finished until the next time. Not so with World Cup 'futbol'. It goes on for a month and It only takes place every four years so, therefore, its newsworthiness is eternal.
We, they, will relive, re-watch and re-evaluate, each game of the 2006 World Cup, praying the outcome will be different, for the next four years.
We, they, will hear that obnoxious voice a million more times screaming: Goooal!! Gol,gol, goooal!!!
God, if only they allowed pistols in the arena.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
Unlike art and sex, money always arouses interest. - Mason Cooley
MEXICO (as I see it):
In Mazatlan, Sinaloa, Mexico there is a Lenten carnival which is said to be the third largest in the world. The first, of course, is Carnival in Brazil. The second is Mardi Gras in New Orleans and then Mazatlan. These carnivals continue non stop for seven days. I was living in Mazatlan during a Lenten celebration and
feel lucky that I am here to tell about it.
A Lenten carnival is a real circus, if that is possible. The first three days I was able to sleep very little. After that exhaustion demanded its due.
The noise level is incredible. The loudest noise is the music. The duration of each song is exceeded only by the number of bands
playing simultaneously. The decibel level rivals the disco scene
and, remember, all of the bands are outdoors.
I have never seen a greater display of organized debauchery in my life. The plan seems to be to get the largest number of people as drunk as humanly possible and to compact them as tightly together as the oxygen supply will support. Then they are cordoned off into a few city block area and cut loose to dance,sing and do a ton of other stuff.
One is buffeted, pushed, stepped on, rubbed and felt in a crowd so dense that one's arms are pinned to one's sides. There is a nose-to-tail procession that creeps along at a snail's pace. A giant pulsating, bouncing mass of humanity showered in confetti, masked and unmasked, costumed to nearly naked, gyrating to wild Sinaloan rhythms.
My apartment happened to be within the cordoned area. A few
feet from the front gate was a gigantic beer tent. I was so
close to the 24 hour a day action that I soon felt like a carny.
But the worst, or best, of it, depending on what you like, was the 'buena vista' my third floor apartment afforded. Directly
below my balcony, erected over an open manhole, was a two section, open roof shithouse!
Perhaps I'm being a little unfair concerning this spectacular event. Yes, there is some pushing and shoving, some rudeness and crudeness but there is also an exuberance of the human spirit. The atmosphere is electric with energy. It is truly a grand celebration.
The music, constant and vibrant, works its way into your soul and soon has you absorbed in an endless series of hip-swinging, finger snapping and toe tapping activities that translate to any language, any culture.
There is a barrage of stunning colors. A range of fantastic
hues from the rainbow arrangement of the 'carros alegoricals'
(parade floats), to the golden sparks of light emanating from the
ebony eyes of the children.
Styles of dress, representing almost all the states of Mexico, are exhibited in their finest tradition. Bows, ribbons, wrappings and sashes of all the colors the eye can absorb. Whites, leafy greens, lavenders and shocking pinks. Dresses with piping and stripes and dots clinging to mahogany brown skin.
Cowboy hats, silver buckles and boots. The black hair, ivory teeth and red lips provide a panorama as multi-colored as the
confetti which floats about forming kaleidoscopic snow drifts.
The foods, which are served from a thousand carts located in any direction one chooses to walk, are as varied and colorful as the native costumes. Treats from Oaxaca, Durango and San Luis Potosi. Specialties from cities as diverse as Monterrey, Morelia and Merida. The aromas of things sizzling and simmering over fires, built with wood carried from home by the vendors, are enough to make one forget the pageantry for a moment and 'belly
up'.
The myriad of dancers, both professional and regular, are of a special Sinaloan type. They are, at the same time, finely
synchronized and out of control. The dances themselves have a prancing quality about them which can only be compared to the hi-jinks of a parade pony or the stately strut of the peacock.
All in all, I suppose, the aura which surrounds this massive pouring forth of emotion out-weighs the bawdy rowdiness that occurs at the earthly level. Beside we have the next 40 days to
recuperate.
posted by bbuckman | 1:16 PM
3 Comments:
"I have never seen a greater display of organized debauchery in my life."
two words: my house :-)
Dad, do you remember telling me the story of you and a woman you were seeing? Dancing in a party crowd? You felt great joy. While you two were dancing she had kicked her shoe up into the air. You both thought it was lost until a man came dancing up with it on his head? Is this that place that holds that memory?
Yes.
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