Michael Stipe
So, despite all the portents of doom (6th June 06, Israel invading Palestine and England progressing in the World Cup), the world has fortunately not ended (this morning at least), although I guess with the an impending apocalypse, you can only take each day as it comes anyway.
I guess we should be grateful for Sven for preventing an appalling outbreak of national pride in England - I do like some red and white things, raspberry ripple ice cream for example, but anything in the form of a cross worries me on a very basic level, and when combined with the red and white and a national pride based upon the triumph of a bunch of semi-literate (as proven by the captain's resignation speech this morning) footballers, rather than any real knowledge of and pride in the whole sweep of English history and culture, I start to get twitchy. This video was filmed just up the road from me - I happened upon it the other night. The flags will slowly vanish from the streets and cars (save those few who belong to people who are either so disappointed by the failure, so lazy, or have blind faith in the triumph of English football at some point in the future that they don't remove them). Sales of red and white face paint will slump, as will takings in pubs across the UK.
Fortunately Henman has already exited, but there seems to be a surge in support of young master Murray. Why do the English (even though he is a Scot) have this tragic passion for nearly men? This would seem to be a fundamental genetic/psychological flaw - being sporting no longer wins you things; the Corinthian spirit died nearly half a century ago, yet the commentators and bloggers across the world are caliing for Cristiano Ronaldo's head - that it was him, and not Rooney's petulance that put paid to English hopes. Why can they just not accept that the team was not good enough throughout the tournament, that they played better without (arguably) their two star players, that Portugal showed greater calmness under pressure.
And the worst part of it is that the victim mentality will extend to this match now. Along with Germany and Argentina (and to a leeser extent, Poland and many other teams), Portugal will become England's bogey team, Scolari and Ronaldo will seize as strong a grip over the average fan's mentality as Maradona did, penalties again. The cult of suffering in Russia is nothing compared to the spin put on these fundamentally meaningless events by the English media and fans. They seek excuses, reasons for failure in the actions of others, rather than examining the flaws within English sporting culture itself.
Enough of the rant for now. Extra time and penalties did make compulsive viewing.
I guess we should be grateful for Sven for preventing an appalling outbreak of national pride in England - I do like some red and white things, raspberry ripple ice cream for example, but anything in the form of a cross worries me on a very basic level, and when combined with the red and white and a national pride based upon the triumph of a bunch of semi-literate (as proven by the captain's resignation speech this morning) footballers, rather than any real knowledge of and pride in the whole sweep of English history and culture, I start to get twitchy. This video was filmed just up the road from me - I happened upon it the other night. The flags will slowly vanish from the streets and cars (save those few who belong to people who are either so disappointed by the failure, so lazy, or have blind faith in the triumph of English football at some point in the future that they don't remove them). Sales of red and white face paint will slump, as will takings in pubs across the UK.
Fortunately Henman has already exited, but there seems to be a surge in support of young master Murray. Why do the English (even though he is a Scot) have this tragic passion for nearly men? This would seem to be a fundamental genetic/psychological flaw - being sporting no longer wins you things; the Corinthian spirit died nearly half a century ago, yet the commentators and bloggers across the world are caliing for Cristiano Ronaldo's head - that it was him, and not Rooney's petulance that put paid to English hopes. Why can they just not accept that the team was not good enough throughout the tournament, that they played better without (arguably) their two star players, that Portugal showed greater calmness under pressure.
And the worst part of it is that the victim mentality will extend to this match now. Along with Germany and Argentina (and to a leeser extent, Poland and many other teams), Portugal will become England's bogey team, Scolari and Ronaldo will seize as strong a grip over the average fan's mentality as Maradona did, penalties again. The cult of suffering in Russia is nothing compared to the spin put on these fundamentally meaningless events by the English media and fans. They seek excuses, reasons for failure in the actions of others, rather than examining the flaws within English sporting culture itself.
Enough of the rant for now. Extra time and penalties did make compulsive viewing.
posted by lukeski at 1:27 pm
7 Comments:
Hi, So who are you tipping to win now? As an aussie, I was depressed all last week, and wanted the whole of italy dead. I now have come to the conclusion that if Italy wins the world cup, us Aussies can say we would've won if it weren't for that stinking umpire... So I think I'm backing Italy.
P.S I used to live in West Ealing
I think that anyone but the French winning would be appalling. They are the only team remaining who are not shockingly mediocre, or rather whose mediocrity is of a higher level. Zizou was magnificent last night in easily the best game of tournament (as you can guess, I am a football purist). Australia were shockingly unlucky, and I can only hope that it fires the nation's imagination, and that in 10 year's or so, you'll have a team full of worldbeaters.
Lukeski, was sagst du? The Germans have played pretty well considering expectations were so low and their football is vaguely skilful and entertaining to watch (which England's isn't). England should, like Ukraine, be pleased to have got so far when they were so utterly unimpressive throughout. I'll be roaring for our Junx from now on...
Maybe it's my bckward looking romnticism when it comes to football, but the French are the only team that have truly world class footballers. The Germans have done magnificently, and have every right to be proud - in fact their (and Italy's) success with teams of a comparable or lower quality to England's puts the defeat into perspective. Both of them, and the French last night, work hard as team with a clear tactical plan - the sum works out a greater than its constituent parts. Australia were the same, as were South Korea in the last tournament, and Russia will be in the next. The FA should have gone for Hiddink at any cost.
Aber warum Michael Stipe? Isn't he the bald, homosexual singer of REM? What's he got to do with the price of fish, or, indeed, football?
That's great, it starts with an earthquake, birds and snakes, an aeroplane and Lenny Bruce is not afraid.
Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn - world serves its own needs, dummy serve your own needs.
Feed it off an aux speak, grunt, no, strength, no, Ladder start to clatter with fear fight down height.
Wire in a fire, representing seven games, a government for hire and a combat site.
Left of west and coming in a hurry with the furies breathing down your neck.
Team by team reporters baffled, trumped, tethered cropped.
Look at that low playing! Fine, then. Uh oh, overflow, population, common food, but it'll do.
Save yourself, serve yourself. World serves its own needs, listen to your heart bleed
dummy with the rapture andthe revered and the right, right.
You vitriolic, patriotic, slam, fight, bright light, feeling pretty psyched.
It's the end of the world as we know it.
It's the end of the world as we know it.
It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.
Six o'clock - TV hour. Don't get caught in foreign towers.
Slash and burn, return, listen to yourself churn.
Locking in, uniforming, book burning, blood letting.
Every motive escalate. Automotive incinerate.
Light a candle, light a votive. Step down, step down.
Watch your heel crush, crushed, uh-oh, this means no fear cavalier.
Renegade steer clear! A tournament, tournament, a tournament of lies.
Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives and I decline.
It's the end of the world as we know it.
It's the end of the world as we know it. (It's time I had some time alone)
It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.
It's the end of the world as we know it. (It's time I had some time alone)
It's the end of the world as we know it. (It's time I had some time alone)
It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.
The other night I dreamt of knives, continental drift divide.
Mountains sit in a line, Leonard Bernstein.
Leonid Brezhnev, Lenny Bruce and Lester Bangs.
Birthday party, cheesecake, jelly bean, boom!
You symbiotic, patriotic, slam book neck, right? Right.
It's the end of the world as we know it. (It's time I had some time alone)
It's the end of the world as we know it. (It's time I had some time alone)
It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine (It's time I had some time alone)
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it (It's time I had some time alone) and I feel fine.
It's the end of the world as we know it (It's time I had some time alone)
It's the end of the world as we know it (It's time I had some time alone)
It's the end of the world as we know it (It's time I had some time alone) and I feel fine.
It's the end of the world as we know it (It's time I had some time alone)
It's the end of the world as we know it (It's time I had some time alone)
It's the end of the world as we know it (It's time I had some time alone) and I feel fine.
The only song I could think of of his/theirs was Losing My Religion and I couldn't see the connection. But your song has reminded me of my time at Keele (before making it to SSEES). I think that was a staple there...
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