Abril Is The Cruellest Month. JFT97

 


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Se armó la cámara húngara: Boroman’s World Cup Form Guide

Imaxe
  Dicen que es la segunda competición más importante del planeta football Brazil - The favourites, no doubt about it. Don’t expect the flowing football of old though. This lot are bit more rough and ready like a night out in Stockton but they’ll be hard to beat especially with Lou Ferrango in the team. Will the weight of expectancy prove too heavy a burden?? This country will not accept failure. Croatia - Expect the usual mix of elegance and grit like Fer and Argie combined. Will the rarefied atmosphere be their undoing as it always has been for European teams? Will rely heavily on Mandzukic for goals but will be in the mix. Mexico - Struggled to qualify and about as exciting as a $1 taco. Last time they had a decent squad Pancho Villa was president. Will be Mexican waving bye bye at the first stage. Cameroon – This could be the youngest squad in the competition or the oldest who can tell? This isn’t the team of previous World Cups though. They will struggle to make any rea...
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Je Voulais Être Flâneur, Mais J’avais Une Fille. Tortilla Francesa Feita Con Ovos Da Casa

Imaxe
  El camino hacia la vida y el camino hacia la muerte son los dos únicos que solo pueden ser tomados en un solo sentido, los únicos inequívocos. Lo demás es puto caos. Nunca sabes a dónde te va a llevar una elección, por muy ozymandias que seas. La realidad es todo lo contrario de lo que se nos aparenta – lo que vemos y lo que se nos hace ver. Es una maraña de casualidades que derivan con relativa coherencia gracias a la gravedad. La materia sí existe, tiene energía y nunca se detiene. Pero lo otro, las leyes que la rigen y las que ordenan a las especies y las que se refieren a lo humano, son todo patrañas. Siempre menos de la mitad de la verdad. Y la verdad importa. 
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Of Mice And Druids. Cold Flowers From The North Riding

Imaxe
  In the current climate of Tory Narnia, wherein the grey-skull right-wing witch of Universal Callousness defends dogmatic cruelty by chillingly spouting bogus figures, like a terrifying echo from World history, inevitably our minds need some memory to jemmy us out of our slough of despond. Like the recent Indian Summers in the season of greyness and windy destruction, my mind was easily drawn back to earlier in this godforsaken year to Sheffield, England and a weekend of camaraderie and respectful competition called The Anglo-Galician Cup. This year I was fortunate enough to be invited to witness this brilliant event, and it just so happened that it was the tenth anniversary of the event, so emotions were running high.
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