Basketball Court

My photo from the St Paul's basketball gym, which is also used for exams, poor buggers. The school is otherwise a boys' "independent" founded in 1509 by John Colet and located in Barnes next to the Hammersmith Bridge or about 15 minutes from us. It was one of the original nine English public schools (ie, private) defined by the Public Schools Act of 1868. Since 1881 St Paul's has had its own preparatory school, Colet Court, and from 1887, under the direction of a new High Master, it expanded rapidly. Last year I duly submitted a £250 fee for Eitan to hold an application place when Eitan in Year 6. This four years before matriculation, dear reader, and St Paul's the only school in London owning this requirement. The school is academic and sporty, which squarely second to the learning. Rugby, cricket and squash the standard prep school games (not football, which is low-brow, dear reader) so Eitan will probably not A) score admission points and B) go. The grounds are enormous for London, tucked between the village and Thames river surrounded by trees and offering open grass fields. I have had numerous conversations re St Paul's and other private schools more competitive then the Ivy League yet I have full confidence in Eitan and Madeleine, should they wish to go. These kids work hard and will end up fine (note to self: if reading in 2011 and 2012, do not panic).

Sonnet and Madeleine at Ice Age 3 while I blog away this afternoon/evening. Eitan at a birthday party - football! - and overnight.

Mad#1

Hedge funds report that the June second quarter the best in 20 years as the Dow Jones Industrial Average increased 37% to 8800 before settling at around 8300 last week. The low, on March 5, 2009, was 6440 and indeed it is curious that we have seen such a bounce given recent unemployment records and our ongoing stalled economy. What gives? I think the stock pickers are the beloved banks, who have received billions in bail-out cash to free up lending, which has not happened. Rather, these institutions have bought equities and hence the Dow's improvement. If we look at Citicorp's balance sheet, for instance, cash and cash-equivalents which includes liquid stocks, has increased from $200 billion to $618 billion from December 31, 2008 to March 31, 2009. Bank of America: $42 billion to $197 billion over the same three month period. This suggests two things: A) banks gambling with our tax dollars - outrageous. Outrageous! and B) a recovery, indicated by the stock market, illusory. In fact, remarkably, we may be in another equities bubble since pricing not supported by strong underlying company performance: the S&P 500 PE ratio is trending up following March 31: S&P 500 PE ratio rose to 132 (the reason is the denominator E or earnings in the PE ratio enemic while prices is rising. For my calculations the 919.14 closing price of the S&P 500 on May 29, 2009 is used). This compares to an historical range of 20-40. Here's the graph.

This suggests that rather than inflation, which our politicos secretly desire as it improves - artificially - property values and reduces foreign debt, we may still fear deflation which, once started, spirals downwards out of control. See exhibit A, Japan. The Republicans and we all have much to fear by breaking the bank with rampent borrowing but the alternative worse. In short, something has to give. We all know what it is, too: military spending. Iraq has cost us dearly and we will soon otherwise have no choice but to reel in the Pentagon. Can we do so before before our social fabric stretched to tear?

Mad#2

Madeleine turns a beet red whenever exerted, as she is here following Friday-Night-Fives. The kid gives sport 100%, though she has not turned the corner regarding capability. But she will.

Today the starting point of the 11th stage of the Tour de France which famously covers 3,500 kilometres, give or take, of France. The race usually lasts 23 days and broken into day-long segments or "stages." Individual stages are totaled and the leader wears a yellow jersey. The course changes every year but always ends on the Champs-Élysées in the 8th. Quel honneur. Unfortunately the sport has been doped beyond recognition and support, including corporate euro's, has plummeted despite hosting celebrity icon Lance Armstong. The idea of emaciated riders discovered with gnarly intravenous applications and bloody disposables turns even the most die-hard fans. For my part, I do not doubt for a moment that every cyclist using. This includes Armstrong, whose former training partner and teammate Frankie Andreu, stated in a deposition that Armstrong admitted using performance-enhancing drugs to his physician following brain surgery in 1996 - this reported in Le Monde, which I read en francais in 2006. AFLD, the French anti-doping agency, has pursued Armstong as recently as April '09 for violating its rules by not fully cooperating with a drug tester; they have never succeeded but I remain convinced, though I wish it was otherwise. Armstrong states flatly: "I will simply restate what I have said many times: I have never taken performance-enhancing drugs." He is a bona fide inspiration for cancer survivors simply being with us today.

“There are two levels of guys. You got the guys that cheat and guys that are just trying to survive.”
--Frankie Andreu, former team captain and part of Armstrong’s inner circle for more than a decade

Mad#3

This is Wimbledon finals week end and the weather perfect (Serena beats Venus, who owns the trophy from last year, having beat Serena. Got that?). More puffy clouds sail overhead on an otherwise blue sky. London has a bad rap for weather as we get about the same as San Francisco or approximately 600 mm per year. The difference being ours spread across the year and we have moods from January that are grey and cold. Indeed, the Southeast has had several droughts including 2006 when Thames Water, which supplies eight million people in London, applied for a "draught order." Anyone flouting drought orders fined £5,000 in magistrates’ courts or an unlimited fine in the Crown Court. In '77 a draught forced water rationing throughout London and punters had to line up each morning with a five-gallon drum; otherwise, nothing (source: black cab). Can you imagine this in Knightsbridge or Belgravia? Well, anyway, Wimbledon spends £100 million on a retractable roof and for the first time in, like, forever, play has not been delayed due to rain. Go figure.

In other celebrations, Gay prides marches across London commencing in SoHo Square and concluding at an after-hours party that goes until tomorrow. I note happily that the festivities sponsored by Lloyds TSB, the Metropolitan Police Department, Coca Cola and HomoVision TV (which my juvenile could not resist noting). Boris will be out there and it is something we should be proud of and so we are.

Of course the July 4th a rather Big Celebration in the US-of-A though dampened by the entire country being broke and no money in many small towns for fireworks. As a nation we own $12 trillion in debt that broke the Times Square clock, which had to be enlarged for the figure. This excludes unfunded liabilities like social security or medical care which take our obligations to $40 trillion according to many economists; we don't include these figures because they are social obligations which can be modified or eliminated by acts of Congress. So Generation X fucked and as for Generation Y? Well, the planet may be coughing to its end so party like its 1999. But let us be happy for 1776 which gave us a bold and brave new nation based on ideas of liberty and self-realisation that hold true today. The Bill of Rights, those ten simple sentences, a wonderful experiment never before seen though Rome came close in principal. The most powerful - No. 10 - I am reminded by Tim also the most remarkable:

"The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people. "

In other words, unless otherwise stated, we can do whatever we damn well feel. God bless America. And I do mean this with all my heart. Despite Nixon and Bush, our country tries, really tries, to error on the right side of civil liberty.

Friday-Night-Fives

Yes, Friday - and yesterday's match 11-zero against the Badgers but, as Madeleine points out, the same team "beat us 15-nil last time, so that's improvement Dad."

From there we go to swim practice at St. Paul's and both kids thrash away for an hour using fins and kick-boards. Each makes progress and Madeleine owns a powerful, beefy stroke that has promise. She certainly has the body-type for swimming. And the attitude, when she focuses herself. Eitan is in Development 2 and Madeleine Dev 1 for the Wandsworth Swim Club so able to complete repeats, dive from the blocks, and keep their mouth shut when Coach yelling.

Yep, just like the old days. Competitions are somewhat infrequent and nothing like football, which sees a tournament most Sundays and league-play from September. Still, there is plenty to work on and builds confidence, flexibility and cross-training. After the pool we head home for pizza take-away and a sticky Friday night. Top of the summer. Madeleine butt-naked but Eitan more modest and keeps inside his PJs. Oh, and Murray loses to Andy Rodick in four-sets leaving the British, and their high-expectations to see one of their own in the Wimbledon finals for the first time since '38, grumpy and disillusioned. Oh, well - otherwise a good week.

Me to Madeleine: "Have the Badgers scored a goal yet?"
Madeleine: "Of course we have dad!"
Me: "Well, when?"
Madeleine: "Remember, there was that time we lost 13-2?"

Eitan: "Oo, I have a half-wobbly tooth! Madeleine gave me a half-wobbly tooth!"
Madeleine: "Did not!"
Eitan: "Did so."
Madeleine: "Did not! Mom, Eitan says that I gave him a half-wobbly tooth!"
Eitan: "Well, it is true that you did give me a half wobbly tooth. Here, see, it is half wobbly."

Maximo Silvio

Consider, if you will, the normal political scandal: usually pretty boring and includes money, bribes or expenses. Maybe the occasional vote rigging. The Republican party. Few catch the public's eye and many more never see the light of day. Contrast this to the recent sex scandals with Vitner, Sanford and Berlusconi - and presto! we get investigative journalism at its very best. Take Silvio today: it turns out that he pays Domenico Cozzolino to pose as Noemi Letizia's boyfriend and they are dutifully captured by Chi magazine kissing away in the Naples sunset - pictured. Well, this did not sit well with Cristina Tatenko, a 25-year-old Russian model who claims that she is Mr. Cozzolino's girlfriend and that Mr Cozzolino had assured her that he had a work relationship with Ms. Letizia only. More gum shore work. Mr Cozzolina eventually adds, in an exclusive interview with Diva e Donna, that Ms Letizia had asked him to pose as her boyfriend "three or four days" after her 18th birthday party where she received a golden necklace from Silvio; says Cozzolino: "I think someone put her up to it." Poor Silvio - even the Church against him: Cardinal Walter Kasper says "everybody, but above all a head of government, should behave with seriousness and sobriety and not indulge in excesses." I don't imagine Silvio concerned about going to hell - he's having to much fun in the here and now. But still, words do mean something sometimes especially when coming from the Vatican in this most Catholic of countries. Yesterday Berlosconi was booed - booed! - on a public visit to Viareggio; he was also forced to cancel a state trip to Libya. All of this in the run-up to the next G8 shortly. And how does the oily Silvio respond? The protests, he says, are down to personal envy and political hate and were all organised by the Left, "which is the enemy of Italy." Ah, yes - it is always those God Damn Liberals every time.

Watching the news. Me: "are you afraid of anything?"
Eitan, without looking up: "Swine flu."

Biondi And Stroke

So I have riffed in the past about my new swimming technique, which has cut my strokes per 25 yard length from 20 to 11. While impossible to suggest that my new freestyle would reduce my times today, age 42, there is growing acknowledgement that slower, controlled "power strokes" more effective then the high-tempo distance turnover I employed as a youngster. At slow speeds one can get a large portion of the desired stroke length as a result of front-quadrant timing (semi catch-up swimming) and streamlining (longitudinal balance, getting off your stomach and onto your sides, keeping compact body lines). Good body roll power transfer (hand/hip connection and vertical forearm throughout the stroke) also plays a role at slow speeds. So basically as I undersand it, as swimming speed increases in a race, low resistance and power transfer become greater factors in stroke length than catch-up timing. You can see this in sprinters like Biondi, Popov and Bernard who’s strokes become less front-quadrant as they move into intermediate speeds yet they still maintain very streamlined positions and vertical forearms (also known as “high elbows”) to keep their strokes much longer than their competition. Biondi, when I swam with him at Cal my senior year of HS, took seven strokes at lap. For elite swimmers moving at the highest speeds the front quadrant aspect is gone altogether—but there is still impeccable streamlining and vertical forearms for excellent power transfer. (photo of Matt Biondi in his prime circa 1988 from the www)

In my day, mileage was king and we pounded away morning and night with little consideration of build or peak - the year was one long boot camp broken by Far Westerns, Northcoast, Nationals, and other championships. It was not until Walnut Creek, where I trained with former gold-medalist coach Mike Troy and like minded and intense athletes that I made significant strides forward. Brown, coached by Ed Reese who had been active for 30 years and more interested in water-polo, a step backwards that ultimately ended my career. So today what is important: after the Berlin marathon I aim to join a Masters program and reviewing neighborhood clubs and fortunately there are some good ones despite a shortage of nice (outdoor) pools. This is England, afterall.

UK Innovation

Here is another of Moe's photographs from 1860 San Ramon. I'm pretty sure he was using his Nikon F2, which was purchased by him in Tokyo after the Peace Corps. The Nikon lenses then as good or better than anything today, while the photographer's eye turns good to great.

In other riveting local news, Government to commit £150 million to a new venture capital "fund of funds" called the UK Innovation Investment Fund (a F2F pools money which commits to general partnerships who in turn invest in companies - in this case, high-tech start ups). Further confusing everybody, the Department for Business, Innovation and Skills, with the Department of Energy and Climate Change and the Department of Health, will invest the money alongside the private sector in order to stimulate growth. Government believes this could leverage enough private investment to build a fund of up to £1 billion over the next ten years. The UK Innovation Investment Fund forms part of the government’s strategy for Building Britain’s Future and dear reader, I think it doesn't have a prayer. Super Gee says “this fund will help build Britain’s future by investing in key sectors. It will provide crucial support for our most promising start-ups and existing small companies just when they need it most. Venture capital finance is the lifeblood of innovation and crucial to ensuring the commercialisation of the discoveries coming out of our research base. The fund will boost future UK competitiveness.”

As a tax payer I am not happy about Brown's strategy since I already own exposure to venture via several partnerships. Allocating aside, why on earth anybody in Government qualified to direct public dollars to private equity schemes beyond me AND £150 million, in any case, a piss in the bucket and better spent elsewhere. Like my kids school. If Gordon wants to stim-u-late our moribund entrepreneurial society, he should do so with tax breaks that benefit the unsung hero's of British capitalism - in short, those guys dumb enough to go out on a limb and try to create something from nothing. The UK capital gains tax is generally 18% but there has been grumbling about tossing it into income, which now stands at 42%. We should make the capital gains rate less. Or zero. Next: open the doors to young, industrious and educated people - bring 'em in and let them go to work (I recall my early work-visas - budda-bing - nightmare). The British enjoy an unusual, nasty combination of deep scepticism or mistrust of New combined with smoldering jealousy for those who succeed. Not good, but at least it ain't France or Germany, which are cemented in their bureaucratic ways. And Italy! pardieu - never.

ID And The Golden State

Ministers have thankfully pulled back from compulsory identity cards which, on Radio 4, I hear "died a death from a thousand cuts." Alan Johnson, the new Home Secretary following the porno-expensing Jacqui Smith, announces that the only people required to have an ID card will be foreign citizens, which is us no longer (I think?). However, onerously, Government will press ahead with a national identity register that, from 2011-12, will include the details of everyone who applies for a passport. While the European Union mandates biometric chips in all EU passports by 2012, it does not suggest one hackable central database. We have watched in horror as Government has lost or misplaced data on thousands of citizens. My only comfort - for now - is that my personal records distributed across multiple storage points and therefore more difficult to access or mis-manage. I may have nothing to hide but this does not mean I willy-nilly grant any Tom, Dick or Harry such privilege to know. Photo from UK.gov.

Think of California for a moment: Tuesday, the Golden State ran out of money while owing $22 billion in arrears. Anybody expecting a cheque for the state gets .. an IOU. Seriously. I wonder if these things trade in a secondary market? Five IOUs get you a loaf of bread. Or a U-Haul, bye-bye.

Chords And Murray

Madeleine, before school, yesterday morning. I love her hat+she looks like her mother. Uncanny, really.

I have found myself without a notebook or blackberry power chord on more occasions than I care to guess. Usually, my error discovered at the destination point or on an airplane resulting in A) aggravation; followed by B) panic and then C) wasted time trying to desperately find a charger that works. D) would be extreme cursing. Well, help is on the way - finally - as Apple, Nokia, Sony and others agree to have one standard chord from January 2010. It is about time these guys did something nice for us given how much money I fork over for their products much of it unnecessary like the sweet little Sony Vaio I just bought for a couple grand. My Dell perfectly fine but so what? So from next year I can chuck a number of cables and that is good news.

Last night the entire country up late glued to Andy Murray and Wimbledon - The Great British hope from Scotland, and now one of our own since he has progressed to the quarter-finals. Murray did so by defeating 19th ranked Stanislas Wawrinka who took him to five sets and exhaustion (me, that is - I am sure Murray fine). Can he beat Federer if given the chance? Probably unlikely but who knows? Murray's progression has been impressive - ranked no. 407 at the beginning of 2005 or the year he turned pro, then 17 by 2006 and No. 3 by May 2009. He began Wimbledon as the third seed, but bumped to second when Nadal pulled out lame. Murray's career record 195-71 with 12 titles; he hasn't broken through the Grand Slam but did final at the US Open earlier this year. His success has earned him $7,612,322, a £5 million house in Surrey and a fine-ass girlfriend Kim Sears who is often seen in the family box emoting. All this and only 22 (but I'll bet he could not have gotten a job in investment banking the year I did. Sour grapes). So Federer .. if any one can defeat the Swiss, who now pursues his record-breaking 15th Grand Slam, it is probably Murray, since he has done so six times in their last eight matches, though losing most recently at US Open Final. Stay tuned, the entire country is.

Silvio, Encore

To his credit, Italian PM Berlusconi promised to give at least four of his 12 cabinet posts to women when he returned to office in 2008, Mara Carfagna (above, right), a former Miss Italy contestant who we are used to seeing, ahem, differently and now the Minister for Family. Stefania Prestigiacomo given the European Affairs portfolio after serving as Minister for Equal Opportunities. Unlike Belosconi's other tarts, at least Stefania qualified having been elected to the House of Representatives as member of the Forza Italia party in 1994. Fortunately for her, she is also hot in a swim suit otherwise, what career? All of this worth noting because the faux tanned PM today setting forth his agenda for the European Parliament (from his yacht in Naples Bay) whilst under considerable pressure regarding his fantasy island in the Mediterranean. Here, sensible reader, he flies high-class call girls and under-aged women who call him "Papi" - paying them handsomely, it would appear. He denies all this, of course, though photographs and tape recordings from former model/actress/escort Patrizia D'addario may confirm Belusconi recruited her at least twice for adult entertainment - she notes BTW that Siliva an animal in bad "he does not sleep." Not bad for a 72 year-old weasel and at least he's not in our face and all family-values like some US politicians we've gotten to know too well. For this reason, and unlike those same dufus American politicos, Silvio maintains his popularity - 66% by his reckoning, though down from 77% last month he admits. Isn't the quote "Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones?" Silvio knows this, even if he may and should be stripped of his power.

Drag Queen

Well, here is something I don's see every day - my father wearing a dress and pantyhose (unfortunately below the cut off). He dresses up for a Rotary skit and informs us "In major boxing matches, it is traditional for a sexy babe to walk around the ring between rounds and carry a sign announcing the next round. That was my role in the play, to be sexy and carry a sign announcing the next scene." Brilliant. I have no doubt Moe was the cut-up in his grade school class.

Eitan and I out the door for an hour of morning football practice - Madeleine declines the offer to join us (she's no dummy). Now that the sun up around 5AM the day offers plenty of useful hours though we do receive some unusual glances from the dog-walkers on Sheen Common. The training consists of a few laps around the park, some fast-jogs and star-jumps then we get into ball-control and finally practice headers and bicycle kicks, which he is able to nail on a few occassions. Football, like water polo, is all about what you cannot see - elbos, knees, holding and so forth. It is a physical game as well as elegant, and Eitan no longer complains when I flick him to the grass to steal the ball. Most of the time now he has me in circles and no doubt in several years he will be the master. How I do recall awaiting him to walk so we could do stuff like today. Now I anticipate eagerly his advancement in life and since football is the litte dude's life, his progress deeply satisfying.

Sanford And Others

Farah, and as importantly her form of anal cancer, overlooked by Michael Jackson's death. 

A fellow happily relieved by the pop stars attention-deflecting end (in an Alistair Darling sort of way) is South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford - the "family values" scum bag who went MIA to Argentina to stick it in his girlfriend despite his wife and four kids. The disappearance followed a bruising completion of the political term where the state assembly overturned ten vetoes imposed by Sanford on new legislation, and had won a legal battle to force him to accept South Carolina's quota of the $787bn federal stimulus package despite his avid opposition to the scheme. 

Ok, we all need a little relief, I appreciate, but there are better ways like basketball. Sanford's wife had been aware of the affair for five months, having discovered incriminating letters; she received her husband's pledge that he would never dally again. Fat chance. Of course the Governor A) refuses to step down and B) used tax-payer funds for his excursion. 

The hypocrisy amazing - Sanford and other Republican adulterers like David Vitter, John Ensign and that fat fuck Newt Gingrich boinking his junior assistant - each pursued Clinton's impeachment (Newt gets extra points for doing so while shagging the intern). 

The Democrats have done no better on many notable occasions (er.. Clinton. And Edwards - now that guy a real work. There may even be a sex tape made by his mistress Rielle Young) but at least they aren't selling themselves as all morally superior, church going Ward and Judy Cleavers. Then again, the Republicans are just damn entertaining right now - how enjoyable it is to see these politico blowhards and liars caught out for the same weaknesses they heap scorn onto their opponents. Think there is a connection to our decline in the 21st century?

"She isn't young enough or pretty enough to be the President's wife."
--Newt Gringrich, to biographer Gail Sheehy on his first wife, 1980

The Great Brain

Eitan reads "Me And My Little Brain" by John Fitzgerald, which I enjoyed about his age. Here I pay him £1 to take this photograph.

The kids anticipate their "Candy Sale" by getting Sonnet to bake cookies and a trip to the newspaper agents to buy liquorice, skittles, and gummie bears. Eitan draws up ten posters, which are placed on a front window and dropped in a few mail slots. At one-thirty sharp, a lawn chair set up in front (Eitan: "come on, mom, it is 1:28!"). The one hour affair nets £3.65 including six cookies to our neighbors Mike and Jill. And lest you think the outcome a tad dire from a business outcome, never in life need you worry. The kids have a few extra pounds plus they suckered their mom into making cookies they otherwise would not be eating now in front of the television. I appreciate my industrialists and their industiousness. The way this is going both will have a paper route in no time at all (assuming there's a newspaper left to be delivered).

Madeleine's homework: "Make a travel brochure. To make this activity more fun and easier, please get a travel brochure from an agent. The child then makes up their own description and ideas. For example, transport, how to get there; hotel- describe the bedrooms, pools and facilities &c. Food- describe meals available, times, &c. Activities - excursions - what can families do whilst there .. Children can cut out or draw pictures and make up two or three sentences about each topic."
Madeleine groans, "Noooooo .. ooooooo"


Madeleine sings (over and over): "There was a great big moose, who drank a lot of juice."

Wimbledon

Jim, who looks a bit like Tony Soprano here, I met in '98 via his brother Richard, who I worked with at First Boston. At then, Jim was involved with Excite @Home and trying to save the European business after being poorly managed by his predecessor. Prior, he was a lawyer at White and Case and banker at Credit Suisse and Salomon Bros covering Turkey where he met his wife; subsequently he spends some considerable time in Istanbul, where he has a second home (Jim's wife Perry founded the largest air business between Turkey and Britain).  


Today, Jim at Google (with Richard) and responsible for global content partnerships - a senior role requiring time in California. In that sense, he and I enjoy a need to be on the West Coast while not especially appreciating the travel. Lucky him, travelling business class while I'm usually in Premium Economy. Being a sole trader has its disadvantages, no doubt. I meet a number of super interesting middle aged dudes and their manicured wives, who mostly stick to themselves around a lawn table drinking white wine. Us men talk about BBQ, finance, football .. usual stuff, with a different angle: most have a connection to Istanbul as well as London making it a dynamic group. 


One of the fellows (Irish, indeed) a criminal prosecutor for the government and we talk about his various assaults, murder and rape cases "which barely result in a conviction" he notes. "Disgraceful." Jim's house is large and airy with a backyard that makes me think of the Midwest. Unusual in any city and especially London. Perfect, though, for a lazy afternoon while the kids run around beet-red (Madeleine comes up to me breathlessly: "Dad, I threw up, but it's Ok" before darting off. Hmm). 


 Kids buzzy in the car ride home and now watching Andy Murray at Wimbledon following a cold bath. I pick up Sonnet on the way home from her conference at the train station and she manages not to freak out that I leave the kids solo. It's gonna happen sometime, oh boy.

T90s

Eitan has been relentless in his pursuit of a pair of Nike football boots and so today he is rewarded with a trip to the Kingston Mall. Since Sonnet at CHODA, I am solo with the Shakespeares and shuffle them about from soccer, to birthday party then BBQ in Wimbledon. Somewhere in there I double up the sports store. Eitan's first choise is day-glow colour ("just like Michael Owen!") but since they retail for £159 not a chance. I steer him to the lads section and we are disappointed when his first choice, the Nike T90 Laser in red, not available to size. He does get the yellow and here is Nike's advertising from earlier this year: "The Total Ninety Laser boot has a significantly big ’sweet spot’ through unique precision rings - that help control ball spin and trajectory. The Laser’s upper, with its innovative circular-pattern PowerZone - emblazoned with a “90″ and the words “Swerve”, “Precision” and “Power” is inspired by visual cues from the ripples that emanate when a stone is dropped in water, according to the designer."

Nothing like a little science to raise one's game. From Eitan's point of view, the day could not be better.

Correction: Eitan tells me that his first choice of boots not day-glow but rather "lime-green" and they were £130 not £159. For the record.

Sports Day

Here we are at Friday. This lower-res picture taken from my Blackberry since I did not have enough time to duck home for my camera. Probably better for Eitan. Today is Sports Day for years 3 to six, and the kids are grouped across ages, in color - Eitan being red. The activities take place on school grounds and include the 60 meter dash, the obstacle course, the dash-and-jump (pictured), basket-ball shot, long jump and distance race around the grass pitch. Somehow all the kids participate before the last bell. They have wonderful spirit and each team has their own song like "We will we will rock you!" and so forth. We parents mill around chatting about whateva. Eitan has high-expectations for himself and when his group comes in third out of four he is devastated, which I can understand since the reds have most of the sporty players and leading comfortably into the last events. Was there a fix? Eitan is made doubly miserable not being allowed to participate in all his events. I consul him afterwards noting that great athletes win some and lose some - what is important that they show up, to which he wails "but I wasn't even allowed to show up!" and he's got a point. So I take him to Joe and Syrus's birthday party at the Bank of England Club and tell him to get with the program.

Madeleine visits the British Gallery today with her Year 2 class.
Me: "How was the museum?"
Madeleine: "It is not a museum, dad. It's a gallery."
Me: "How was the gallery?"
Madeleine: "Don't know."

The Badgers lose 7-nil. But they are chipper about it: "We almost scored two goals" Madeleine notes.

Me to Madeleine: "Eat your peas."
Madeleine: "I am."
Me: "NOT one at a time."

Madeleine: "Can I have some ice cream?"
Me: "No."
Madeleine: "It's 'opposite day,' dad - can I have some ice cream."
Me: "Yes?"
Madeleine: "Got you! I am going to have strawberry."

The King Is Dead

Two pop culture icons gone in twenty-four hours. There is no doubt Michael Jackon a freak and accused pedophile but his music will be remembered forevermore. I may have missed the back slide, famously broadcast live in the US in '83 for Motown's 25th anniversy, but even in Switzerland Jackson's raw power clear: the moonwalk his signature and the best known dance move in the world (this my humble, unscientific opinion I admit - but name one other dance, aside from the tango, that competes? Anybody under 30 BTW has no clue about the tango). Jackson's dance videos epic - "Beat It," "Billy Jean,""Bad," "Remember The Time" and on and on. We college and post-college 80s kids gathered together for every release and celebrated his artistry. Reviewing Jackson's influence on pop, punctualised by awards, it is not difficult to exclaim that Jackson the most influential singer performer since Elvis, if not all times. And what a trippy ride: from abusive parents, The Wiz, to "Off The Wall" and "Thriller," to tabloids, autobiography and film, a White House visit , Super Bowl XXII, sexual abuse accusations and marriage to Lisa Marie Presley, divorces, children, plastic surgery, whiteness and more weirdness -wow. We have all participated, mostly for good, and now he is gone. The world a much less interesting place. Michael Jackson:

Major Awards	Wins
American Music Awards	22
Billboard Awards	40
BRIT Awards	7
Golden Globe Awards	1
Grammy Awards	19
Guinness World Records	13
MTV Awards	13
NAACP Image Awards	14
RIAA Awards	56
World Music Awards	12
Totals
Major awards won	197

Farrah

Here is the poster I had in my room in '77 or '78. It was either John Travolta or Serpico or Farrah, may she rest in piece. I eventually replaced Fawcett with Cheryl Ladd, who I taped to my ceiling and attached bulging eyeballs. It seemed funny at the time. I was likely too young to appreciate anything else, but who knows really? Television of this era wonderful and also totally crap - production a bare minimum and the "acting" camp. Aaron Spelling, however, discovered the holy grail with Love Boat, Fantasy Island and of course, Charlie's Angels which recycled has-beens clinging to their desperation and banking one more pay check. It was the "reality" TV of the day and just as scripted as now (or vice verse?). While LB and FI were the Saturday solution to one's tweens and pre-dating, it was the "Six Million Dollar Man" on Sunday nights that was transformative for us youngsters: "Steve Austin, astronaut. A man barely alive. Gentlemen, we can rebuild him. We have the technology. We have the capability to build the world's first bionic man. Steve Austin will be that man. Better than he was before. Better, strong, faster." The imagination sored, Dear Reader, and I still fantasise about a bionic arm used for smashing deserving shitheads like certain members in US government. Cheney. But I digress. And the plots sublime: Steve vs. the Sasquatch went two episodes ("To Be Continued" - what commitment!). Plus there was his love interest and bionic women Jamie and the bionic dog too. Ahh, sweet heaven. Today's stuff cannot compete and despite 200 surfing channels, most barely watchable. And the four terrestrial channels, supported by advertising and my television license, ghastly excluding the BBC News and the occasional football match not owned by Sky.

"I took them away from all that, and now they work for me."
--Charlie

Self Portrait VIII

Me: "What are some small, simple, satisfying things?"

Eitan: "Having a drink of water when you are thirsty."
Eitan: "Sitting down when you are tired!"
Madeleine: "Taking the newspaper when you want to read it."
Madeleine: "Reading a book when you're really wanting to."
Madeleine: "Smashing a window with a brick!"
Me: "Have you ever smashed a window with a brick?"
Madeleine: "Well, once - over there (pointing to living room window). You weren't around and mom fixed it."

Eitan: "Sticking your head out the car window and putting your tongue out."
Eitan: "My flippers (for swimming) which, um, like really hurt and it feels sooo nice to take them off."

Eitan: "Play time!"
Madeleine: "Getting fresh air when you have been inside a really long time."

Eitan: "I like to put ketchup on my pasta."