Die Hard Three

For the remainder of the 2014 World Cup I’m going to be playing FIFA Bingo with FIFA’s Code of Conduct. Every time I see one of their “Ten Golden Rules” broken either in an implicit or explicit manner by a player, an officiator, a team, or the FIFA system (a system the authors of the Golden Rules themselves created), I’m going to add the rule (or a just comment for multiple instances related to the same rule) to this blog post.

So let’s get started.

In honour of a system that allows for scenarios where teams are rewarded for not winning (like today’s USA vs. Germany game where a tie advances both teams) I present to you:

Play to Win

Winning is the object of playing any game. Never set out to lose. If you do not play to win, you are cheating your opponents, deceiving those who are watching, and also fooling yourself. Never give up against stronger opponents but never relent against weaker ones. It is an insult to any opponent to play at less than full strength. Play to win, until the final whistle.

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To my Spanish friends – I know many of you are upset and disappointed with your team’s performance in their first game of this World Cup. But I would like to remind you that in the previous tournament, you guys also lost the opener against Switzerland and then you went on to win the whole thing.

Sometimes it can be better to start slow. France did the same thing in 2006 on their way to a second place finish.

When it comes to soccer I’ve mostly been a supporter of the Germans and the Dutch (and also the US and sometimes England and maybe France – depending on who’s playing) and back in the day, I never, ever imagined finding myself not cheering against the Spanish soccer team.

My main objection to Spanish soccer was that guy Christian Ronaldo. He was always diving and faking injury and I hate that aspect of the game – especially when it’s practiced by its “best” player.

And then one day my position on Spanish soccer began to change. It started when someone informed me that Ronaldo doesn’t play for Spain – he’s Portugese. Also his name is Christiano. And then Spain won the Euro Cup. And then they won the World Cup. Then the Euro Cup again.

This is very impressive. Apparently it’s standard practice to pay off the officiators for one soccer tournament – but three in a row – that’s really difficult. I then did some research and found out that Spain won these tournaments fair and square (by FIFA standards).

I also got to meet some super-cool Spanish people here in Ottawa. I hosted a dinner party for like ten of them. They brought lots of wine, told me my cooking was delicious, and one of them drew for me a really awesome picture of Wolverine.

It is now my prized possession. 

This all got me thinking that the Spanish team is actually pretty cool. And I want to wish them well with their soccer. But right now (at this juncture) Spain has the best chance of defeating Germany – my main team. They eliminated the Germans in two of the three previous tournaments and after the disappointment of 2006 I really want to see the celebration in Berlin – even if I cannot be there in person.

For me today has been a day of democracy extremes. First I had lunch in the very seats of power of our top-ten Human Development Index nation at the Parliamentary Restaurant with a sitting Canadian Senator (no, it was not Daniel Alfredsson).

Then I took a constitutionally-protected nap before going to the polling station to decline to vote in the provincial election – really what’s the point – they’re all terrible.

And right now (on the other end of the democratic spectrum) I’m about to become a spectator of an event organized by the most undemocratic organization in modern human history – La Federation International du la Football Association.

And I am celebrating this undemocraticness by sitting alone in a packed bar, waiting for my friends, holding onto a table that seats eight, supporting Croatia (wearing red) while literally every single other person in the bar is scrambling to find a seat and cheering for Brazil.

Let the games begin.

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So today I was getting ready to go the Globus Baumarkt to purchase half a toilet. And, well, remember two weeks ago when I reported that I had stolen from me all of my facial hair removal devices on the train from Paris to Cologne? And remember when I wrote about the intensive manhunt that the police conducted based on my description of the perpetrators? And did you read yesterday in the news about the dramatic increase in non-violent crime in Cologne over the past 14 days being directly related to law enforcement resources being reallocated to investigate a high-profile train robbery?

Well as I was searching through my backpack for my duct tape and work gloves I discovered my “stolen” accessories bag had been jammed into the bottom of my pack by some hungover birthday reveller.

I was just as shocked as you are. Here I’d gone three weeks without shaving, my friends’ children only getting to know the bearded Jason. What happens when I come back next year and my face is not bearded? These kids will not know who I am. As a professional babysitter I know that it takes a lot of work to build rapprochement with the clients. Now I have to start all over again.

Not looking forward to that.

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So I’m walking around Berlin and I happen upon a game of European soccer. Two years ago I swore an oath to never write about football again but today the weather is just too nice – I can sit outside and type this blog post while marvelling at how strange this game is.

I mean this particular game. Not the sport.

Which is also strange.

The pitch is right next to a public park (not unlike the one I went to in the Netherlands) and I’m standing by the fence that separates the soccer (I think it’s a men’s league game) from the parents who are out with their children to enjoy the unseasonably warm weather. Next to me is a woman with a stroller containing an eight-month old baby. This woman’s three-year-old son and husband are inside the fenced-off area watching the game. The baby starts to cry and I ask him what’s wrong – are you too hot, too cold, too hungry?

His mother explains that he’s too bored. I suggest he get used to this – he is at a soccer game after all. Mom laughs at my joke and then calls through the fence for “Artur” (she wants to leave). I ask her if Artur is the big one or the little one. Artur (the three-year-old) really wants to get out on the field but he’s knows that’s not a good idea. So instead he’s reaching under the fence and collecting acorns and kicking them out onto the pitch (with a surprising amount of co-ordination).

After the family leaves I begin to wonder if it’s just the professional players that take dives and pretend to be hurt all the time. The thirty minutes I’ve seen here today answers the question.

It’s a resounding “no”. Every time there’s a clash for the ball at least one guy ends up rolling around like he’s just been shot or something. I keep expecting an ambulance helicopter to be called in for an emergency medevac but after a couple of minutes the “injured” player gets up and the game resumes.

I even get to handle the ball as one of the attacking players airmails a shot over the fence. While the defenders clap their hands like they actually accomplished something, I self-appoint myself to the position of ball collector and hand it back to the coach.

My photo-documenting the incident makes him smile.

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When I travel by air I like to document the entire experience – the physical condition of the plane, the comportment of the passengers, any strange smells in the cabin (that are not mine) – all the stuff that does not make it into the blackbox recordings. In the past, I found the collection of this information to be a rather labour intensive endeavour, but the recent proliferation of digital cameras and portable computers it has turned it into a most pleasant experience.

I do this to make the recovery of my personal effects a priority in the unlikely event of a crash. If there’s a chance my possessions (computer, notebook, camera, mobile phone) could in someway contribute to solving The Mystery of the Missing Passenger Jet (A Hardly Boys Mystery) then the investigators combing through the wreckage looking for clues will do so starting with seat 1B.

This flight to Berlin has been especially productive. I managed to somehow get assigned a seat in the first row – unlimited leg room!

And the crew has been especially good. We departed right on time and their execution of the safety demonstration was amongst the best I’ve ever seen.

So, why is it so important for my suff to be recovered? Well I can think of dozens of reasons. Maybe I have some unmailed postcards or a gift I want delivered. Maybe there was enough time before the end and I’ve written a personal message to a loved one. Maybe, just maybe, I have one last piece of wisdom that I want to share with the world.

You probably have this idea in your head that nothing survives a plane crash – but that’s not completely true. A more accurate phrasing would be “very few things live through” a plane crash. Lots of stuff can be recovered especially the data from solid state devices (phones, computers) as well as paper and wallets and stuff like that.

In 2007 I met a woman whose sister was on American Airlines Flight 77 when it crashed into the Pentagon on September 11, 2001. She told me that her sister’s wallet survived the impact and fire mostly intact and it contained a message for her family.

Some people might think writing about such a topic is morbid (especially while doing so on a flight as it passes over the Swiss Alps). But it’s important to examine your mortality every now and again – it’s the only constant in this world and how we deal with death says a lot about how we deal with life.

That and my ticket for this flight was only forty Euros. That’s like sixty dollars Canadian. And my flight from Eindhoven to Milan cost me *half* that. How do they pay for the fuel? What other cost-cutting measures have they implemented? When’s the last time anyone changed the oil?

Paying AirCanada $400.00 to fly an equivalent distance may seem unfair, but it does provide a small amount of reassurance that we’re not going to run out of gas half way over Lake Ontario.

Frank, they’re not here for you. “Weird Al” Yankovic is on the plane.

Don’t worry, the plane was parked when I snapped this one.

So I bailed out of Holland a couple of days ago. Had a great time. Got to visit with M&S as well as YN and EL. And apologies for the lack of posts – I’m a bit behind on my reporting (that’s what I’m calling my blogging now – according to my lawyers it gets me out of several of the class action lawsuits I am currently battling – and while we’re on the topic could someone out there *please* organize all of these class action suits against me into a single, mega-action suit? It defeats the purpose of a class action if there are several of them. Thank you.)

So what did I do on this trip? Well, I messaged my uncle informing him that there’s a town in Holland where all the street names are chosen from the Dutch translation of Lord of the Rings (the subtitles I think) – he’s a huge fan. I also mentioned that I happened to be in the Low Countries and then he asked me to “take lots of pictures”.

Full disclosure: if I were even *planning* on visiting such a place (if it does indeed exist) I would have mentioned nothing, instead opting to surprise my uncle with a complete blog post about my getting lost while collecting one of the kids I was babysitting from De Hobbit peuterspeelzaalwerk and also how it sucks to be Theoden because no one wants to steal his sign.

I mean, Holland is a huge country. What are the chances that this mythical Tolkien village would be within walking distance of my friends’ place where I was staying for my entire visit to their country? Like zero.

Click on the pic to embiggen.

And you thought this trip would be party party party.

For some reason on this “vacation” I’ve been doing a lot of “babysitting”. For example, today I was responsible for the tending and feeding of several (two) small children. Lately I’ve been very popular with this particular line of work and I have no idea why this is.

Case in point: on Saturday I was confronted by the parents of my previous ward who were not very happy with my services from this past Thursday. Their “nanny-cam” captured this image of me (right when I was blinking, of course) and they claimed I was sleeping on the job.

First of all – that’s ridiculous. Nanny-cam? Do I look like a nanny? I certainly don’t feel like one. And second – did you not check my references? No? That’s because I have none (well actually I do now – it’s you guys).

Anyway, this afternoon all I had to do was go to the grocery store and purchase ingredients for the supper for the two children I mentioned in the second paragraph of this post. My thinking was: when I was a child I never got to choose the meals (even on my birthday) so I thought it would be nice if I let the children do the shopping this time.

After my experience on Saturday I decided to protect myself and photo-document the whole thing.

One can clearly see the kids are choosing these items under their own free will.

And everything worked out great. Kids are happy. So am I. And isn’t that what really matters?

It seems like I can’t go anywhere without people asking me to babysit. At first I struggled to figure out if this is normal. Does everyone get asked to look after (and transport) children all the time but no one ever speaks of it? Or does this only happen to me and I’m the one who’s keeping silent?

Either way, I’m here in the Netherlands keeping an eye on the most interesting 28-month-old in the world.

I should mention that this child and I share a special bond – I wrote about this before. You see if it weren’t for me – he wouldn’t exist. It’s an interesting story involving a time-traveling robot from the future (obviously) and a missed train connection but I don’t have time to go into that now.

Right now he’s napping and I’m not sure how long he’s supposed to sleep for. I thought about contacting his parents to ask them but I figured it would be better for everyone involved if the Internet weighed in. Is a three-hour afternoon nap too much for a two year old?

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Some of my readers are under the mistaken impression that I went on this last-minute trip to Europe to confront fears of my own, inevitable mortality. People who know me well understand that this is simply not true as I have already mapped out in great detail the final chapters of my life. They way I see it, many years from now when it’s time to do battle with Death and his icy scythe I will do so at my home in Ottawa armed with the most powerful religious symbols from all the different faiths.

You see up until now (despite my best efforts) I have been unable to figure out which is the one, true religion. So I hatched this plan where (during the final battle with Death) I will employ a symbol from each religion in my attack / defence so I can properly determine which is the True Faith. If my theory is correct when it touches my adversary, the symbol will create a slight burning sensation at the point of contact. I will then convert to that religion right there and then and smite my foe!

Anyway, the real reason I decided to take this short-notice trip outside the country was to escape the endless CBC broadcasts that inundate citizens of the Great White North every hour of every day. It’s bad during normal times but with their exclusive, ongoing coverage of the Olympics it had become unbearable.

Living in Canada is not without its drawbacks and the CBC is one of them. It would be fine if citizens were somehow able to opt out but it’s actually quite difficult. TVs in bars, radios in cars, the Internet, YouTube – the CBC is everywhere and it can be very taxing. On top of the non-stop broadcasts and the multiple television channels and radio stations (in each official language), they have “news” programs that are 100% fake but they don’t tell you that. This means whenever you happen upon a bit of news from the CBC you have no way of knowing if it is real or not. The fake news coupled with the CBC’s country-wide omnipresence in all spectrums of the media (radio, television, Internet) has been known to drive people crazy. There are several well-documented cases.

So the other day I read an article in the Globe and Mail (on their web site actually, for free) where the author was trying to draw attention to the fact that the CBC is being blocked outside of Canada and all the CBC podcasts are currently unavailable for download. I could not believe my eyes: Were two of my prayers being answered simultaneously? Was it possible to escape the Olympics *and* the CBC at the same time? Could it be done with but a single ticket on flight AC838 YOW to FRA? And how good has the CBC’s reporting been on this particular topic? And which religious symbol was I holding in my hand when I prayed to God this specific request? [note to self: be more selective with the prayers – too many decent parking spots; not enough winning lotto numbers]

Upon finishing the article, reading it a second time, and pinching myself to make sure I was not asleep in some wonderful dream about a CBC Newsworld-free world, I opened a new tab in my browser and immediately booked a three-week trip to Europe.

The first couple of days of my vacation were great as I was getting nice and comfortable with the idea that I would not have to worry about any CBC content popping up on my Facebook or any of their embedded links sneaking into my RSS feeder. Then this morning I got an email from my mother telling me that CBC was back on the air – worldwide. It turns out that a Canadian citizen-activist was able to effect change using non-violent, well-reasoned arguments articulated in – get this – a national newspaper (I know, how quaint).

And now the rest of the world has to live with the fallout from the actions of this one individual.

It’s actually quite horrible – and I’m not talking about the CBC’s renewed ability to track me down wherever in the world I happen to be. Full disclosure: they can’t get me any more. On Friday one of the clerks at the German Department of Motor Vehicles* informed me that I am now legally blind (and def) as a result my of dancing too close to the stage during the second set of the DJ Firewerks Lazer and Sound Spectakular at that party in Mannheim on Thursday. “Blind? Really? Then how are you writing this post?” Easy, I’m using apples hi quality voice-to-text software.

Anyway, the problem is, people all across the globe (the planet, not the newspaper) are now going to start believing that they can actually change the things that are important to them by using grassroots methods to put political pressure on entrenched bureaucratic and social hierarchies. These techniques do succeed now and again but their successes are so rare that they end up causing more harm than good. And by “harm” I mean giving false hope to activists who have worked tirelessly to have March 2 declared Planet Earth’s first-ever, international world-wide holiday for everyone (the most worthwhile cause if there ever were one).

Readers who are paying attention know what I’m talking about.

* Traveling without health insurance? There are lots of places one can get high-quality, medical diagnosis (and prognosis) at a fraction of the cost of going to the hospital.

Coming through loud and clear. Mostly loud. And way too clear.

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