Category: Fourre-tout

Do I like soccer? Is the pope catholic?
Any European-born boy played soccer. Why? Because in my days (a few centuries ago) it was a popular game that did not require any fancy equipment. Having just a ball, was good enough. No uniforms, no fancy shoes, just some good fighting spirit, a quality never lacking in schoolboys.

So yes, I watched many games of the 2019 FIFA Women’s World Cup and I enjoyed it. All the women were talented, spirited and fought hard. Did they perform as well as men? I don’t know, but I found it more pleasant to watch.

All the world-class male soccer players are overpaid drama queens. In a game, at the slightest body contact, they hit the ground writhing in seemingly agonizing pain. They all try to extort the lethal penalty kick which they hope, will give them an almost unstoppable goal. But a few minutes later, the “injured” party has miraculously recovered and is trotting on the field.
I did not see any women doing this. Yes, they took some solid hits and fell on the ground but didn’t patently fake or milk the incident.

I find a soccer penalty kick highly unfair.
“The shot is taken from the penalty mark, which is 12 yards (11 m) from the goal line and centered between the touch lines.”
Such a kick is very difficult to stop and usually results in a goal. The goalkeeper has to anticipate where the ball is going to go and lunge in that direction. His/her chances of guessing right are extremely slim, but if he is uncommonly lucky, he sometimes succeeds.

The American women benefited from such a kick in the 58^th minute of the game when Dutch player Stefanie van der Gragt (unintendedly) hit American Alex Morgan with a dangerous high kick. Morgan was not seriously injured, but she fell on the ground and it must have been painful.
The following penalty kick resulted in a goal for the Americans.

If the US team would have won the championship with such a kick, it would not have been a very glorious feat. Fortunately, at the 68^th minute, American midfielder Rose Lavelle delivered a splendid true bona fide goal to settle the outcome of the championship.

Both teams played hard and well and both could have won. But in any competitive event, luck is always a factor. No matter how talented you are, you always need the benevolence of Lady Luck. This time, she was partial to the Americans.

Do women soccer players deserve a raise? Absolutely. Equal work, equal pay. Due partly to their success in the World Cup, I predict that in a few short years women’s soccer will be big. Very big. Maybe even bigger than men’s soccer.  On last Sunday in Lyon, 57,900 enthusiastic fans attended the final game. How often do men reach such a number? Give women a raise!

Now, is the US team going to accept the American Reichstag’s invitation? I doubt it. Speaking for herself, but reflecting the team’s mood, cheeky Megan Rapinoe was definite about it. “I’m not going to the fucking White House.”

Alain

I bought a new camera. Yes. The same model that so mysteriously vanished last week in Sonoma. I had to. Living without an emotional support camera proved too much for me. I felt antsy, tense, like a smoker trying to quit…

“Once photography enters your bloodstream, it is like a disease.”— Anonymous

It is. Maybe more like a virus. It is insidious, but once you are infected, I don’t believe that there is a cure for it. Like a diabetic, you have to accept the fact that it is impossible to survive without taking daily shots.

A good photographer is like a dog who smells and goes after things that nobody else sees… A unique snapshot is there, but like a truffle it is hidden and you have to be attentive to uncover it.
It is also ephemeral. It lasts the blink of an eye. The photographer has to be alert and catch it before it vanishes, or before some oaf obstructs his field of vision.

After a while, taking pictures becomes second nature. You don’t wait for special occasions to feed your addiction. You walk with a camera in your pocket and you shoot whatever presents itself or tickles your fancy.
Unlike many disciplines, there is no season for photography. Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall, there are always gems waiting to be discovered.

So, don’t believe for a minute that after Sneaky Pete was “cam-napped”, you would be free from my unblinking eye. No matter what, I will be there to record your triumphs… or your failures.

In addition, I am convinced that everybody longs for his/her 15 minutes of fame, and through my camera, I can fulfill your expectations. Do something spontaneous, touching, brave or unexpected (like streaking ) and The Eye will be there to record the event.

Take heart fame seekers. Sneaky Pete II and I will record your fancy stuff and make you a (temporary) star. Fame, by the way, is a strange animal. When you reach for it, you will do anything to be noticed. Once you have made it, you will do anything (including punching the photographer) to be ignored. Make up your mind.

“A photographer is like a cod, which produces a million eggs in order that one may reach maturity.”– George Bernard Shaw

In the future, when you will see Sneaky Pete II and me, smile because you are about to be briefly famous… (or infamous). And never blame the photographer… he just keeps you honest.

Alain

“Show me someone with skull and crossbones etched on his flesh, and I’ll show you someone who doesn’t go on a lot of job interviews.” AMY LINDEN

Yesterday I noticed a young woman with a man’s first name tattooed on the back of her shoulder. I could not help but reflect that this very deed required a lot of faith… or guts.

A tattoo is permanent, or at least difficult or painful to remove. In our turbulent times, liaisons are volatile… Here today, gone tomorrow.  Who can be sure that a relationship is going to last forever?
And what happens when the romance fizzles out?

Personally, I would play it safe; if I absolutely wanted to get inked, I would pick something safe to be etched on my skin. Something like “Mom”, “Toby” or “Fido”. You cannot go wrong with sure values like that.

Getting a tattoo is often an impulsive move requested by immature young people. Monkey sees, monkey does. According to a recent survey, the average number of relationships for men and women in the United States is 7.2. Math was never my forte, but I understand that if you are fond of tattoos you could get 6 or 7 names (or more)  inked on your skin in your lifetime. For all kinds of different reasons, it could become difficult to manage.

If you don’t want to get embarrassed, the ideal time to get a tattoo is when you are on your deathbed. It is then very unlikely that you will have to change the name of your beloved in a very near future.

A word of advice. If you are dead set to get a tattoo though, make double-sure that it is free of typos. Hire a guy who at least finished high school.
Letterings like “Too cool for scool”, “Never don’t give up” or “No ragrets” do not have the same impact as the intended idea.

Also think of Johnny Depp who, after his breakup with Winona Ryder, had to modify his “Winona forever” tattoo for “Wino forever.” Clever, but not flattering.

I am not totally against tattoos, but I want them small, hidden, witty. I don’t want “in your face” American style tattoos… graffiti covering your entire body.
Remember, small is always more potent than large.

If I ever decide to get inked, I might go to Japan to get the right inspiration and design. And I will keep the thing out sight; I will show it only to lovers, close friends, relatives or freemasons… on special occasions… like the 4^th of July.

Think before you ink!

Alain

PS: I still lament for the loss of my Canon GX7 (Sneaky Pete) camera. Will I ever get it back? I am starting to despair… ?