"....and we are here as on a darkling plain, swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight"

.....All you blog and soccer junkies out there, I've been too busy watching just as you are, and also glued to Game of Thrones on the internet.  Yes, I know it can also be seen on HBO if you are privy to it.  This is its fourth season, so I suppose it began the same time as the last World Cup.  I didn't catch it from the beginning because I didn't know about it, but if you start now you can see all the episodes before they expire.  You'll be missing one of the best TV series ever!  Each episode is an hour and you won't believe your eyes or your ears.  Don't let Huston watch.

 

.....In addition I couldn't believe the soccer stupidity when Portugal was given the tying goal on a platter with only a few seconds left to play.  Why was Ronaldo allowed a free rein down the right side of the pitch. Why weren't two defenders giving him a problem?  Why wasn't the box filled with defenders who were defending at that point in the match? Where were they all?  How did that Portuguese striker find no one guarding him from in front and on both sides? Where in hell was every one on our side there with only one minute to play?  What a disaster! Now we surely either beat Germany (Ha!) or at least play them to a draw.  I'm afraid neither is going to happen against that team, and USA will be on their way home, and either Portugal or Ghana will be on their way to the 16.

 

.....Now about mundane things; I must find something to keep my brain from shrinking after the World Cup and Thorns.  I could continue writing the Great Unknown American Novel (The Lost Universe) or teach a Shakespearean play (perhaps to residents who want to get an education), or I can write another Great Unknown American musical which doesn't get performed.  The problem with getting back to continue with the novel is motivation. I did know where I was going with it, but I've forgotten. The problem with teaching a play is that I don't know if I have the energy required. I was once a professional teacher able to walk up and down the aisles ( as was my style). Now I can't. And I don't know if I can teach Shakespeare sitting at a desk.  And the problem with the musical is getting it performed before some idiot thinks he can do better with it.  So, how am I supposed to get to 100 or at the least--to 95? Huh?

"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven." (BIBLE)

.....Right now I am spending my time between "Game of Thorns" and the World Cup.  If there is a conflict between the two, I won't know what to do.  It's like Robert Frost wrote, "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood...and I took the one less traveled by." In this case, if you go by TV, then Thorns solves the conflict because fewer people watch it, and trillions watch the World Cup. And it's like Yogi Berra said, If you come to a fork in the road, take it." The World Cup is no doubt exciting but it doesn't show women in full frontal nudity.  In almost every episode; I wonder what they get paid. Besides writing this blog is mostly what I do--but there is plenty to do here anyway.  I'm 90 but that's no excuse for sitting around, moping.  I believe that 98% of men over 90 lose their hair--or they just possess a wisp of grey.

 

.....Another hobby of mine is scratching off scratchoff tickets. Yesterday I was busy with something else and so I asked RH+ to scratch off a few tickets that I had left over, so she did.  And so for me, she scratched off one, and won $100 from a 5$ ticket! Not a bad return.  So I recommend that you buy some scratchoffs if they sell them in your state. Speaking of my previous hobbies, I recommend them also. I just got comment from Mike regarding hobbies, and it seemed to me that Mike likes a clean environment so his hobby now is cleaning chatchkas off all the tables. I've been to his apartment and I noticed a trillion chatchkas everywhere.  So, now Mike has all clean tables, and soon he will be looking for something else to do. Eating a steak at Longhorns is something else that he loves to do, but I don't think you can call it a hobby, just a nutritional habit. 

 

.....Speaking of Mike, his comment on the post about Agincourt must be longer than the post I have here. I don't mean that he commented on Shakespeare's bit about Henry V. Actually, what he wrote had nothing to do with what that post was about.  It had to do with the fact that he had nothing to do.  Oh, I won't go on, because you can read his comment and you may comment on his comment.  Forgive me, but "Thorn" is on.

St. Crispins Day speech (Shakespeare)

History seems to repeat itself and Henry Vs speech to his troops on his St. Crispins Day has several aspects that remind me of "the longest day".

The Battle of Agincourt was a major English victory in the Hundred Years' War. The battle occurred on Friday, 25 October 1415 (Saint Crispin's Day), near modern-day Azincourt, in northern France. Henry V's victory (like ours on D-Day) at Agincourt, against a numerically superior French army, crippled France and started a new period in the war during which Henry married the French king's daughter and then Henry's son, Henry VI, was made heir to the throne of France. Shakespeare celebrates this event in his play about Henry V, and though by a very long-shot, I am no Shakespeare, I have edited the speech for those who can remember ....."the longest Day".

ST. CRISPIN'S DAY SPEECH BY HENRY V

In response to Westmoreland's dismay at the lack of troop strength, King Henry expresses his belief that the few men - 'brothers' - will be able to boast each year on St. Crispin's Day of their victory over the French

WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!

KING. What’s he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more..
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call’d the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly feast his neighbours,
And say “To-morrow is Saint Crispian.”
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say “These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.”
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.