Heat Wave

Greetings, gentle readers.
Edmonton has suddenly transmogrified itself into a super-heated furnace. What does this mean? Well for one, I'm dragging myself from task to task as even watching DVDs provides cause for my proteins to denature and render me a twitching vegetable.
That being said, my father had a happy barbeque at his place on Sunday, which meant that I got lots of food (and lysine) and the net result is positive for my neuralgia and I also got a load of print-outs from my Africa trip. My plan now is to re-type those documents and give people a glimpse of my life in the dark continent.
First, though, is the World Cup. Going almost completely according to plan. I knew that Sven-Sven is an incompetent manager. I also knew that Carlos Alberto Parreira doesn't want his team to play according to the way his players are accustomed. Both managers, and both countries are now out. If anyone had any brains, they would appoint me their national manager. See my earlier blogs about discipline within Sven's team from TWO YEARS AGO, and you'll see what I mean. I spotted the rot years ago, and no-one listened. Winston Churchill, eat your heart out about being the voice in the wilderness.
The Brasilians? Telling Ronaldinho, Kaka, Adriano and Robinho to play defensive football is like telling Colonel Sanders to hug chickens. It's stupid. He's lucky he's not hung from the highest tree in Rio.
So who will win? The French are giving it a good run, as are the Portuguese. Hard to knock the home team, though. They've gotten stronger with every game. I won't jinx anyone, but I reckon that the 12th man will make the difference in the final. Sure, there are only Europeans left in the tournament and travelling support will be more of a factor, but I don't think the Italians have the offense, the Portuguese have the spirit, and the French have the energy. After the finals, we'll start "The African Chronicles." which will no doubt bore the legwear off all and sundry.
Until then, cheers, and good night England and the colonies!

-mARKUS