Wednesday, June 21, 2006

One shouldn't mock at senior citizens but I do find the
BBC'sJohn Simpson's contributions ever more out of touch. The headline which drew me in to his latest suggested that the killings at Haditha could change the future of the war in Iraq.

It's the Left's own very personal turning point. Never mind the killing of Zarkarwi (let's forget that, soonest). The US, apparently, is 'braced' for the Haditha effect. Well actually, the US is long past 'braced'. If Simpson spent an iota of time on the Internet he would be aware that John 'Haditha' Murtha has been under pressure ever since his comments regarding Haditha. America was 'braced' back then. Michelle Malkin and others have been 'bracing', mitigating, and judging the prejudgers ever since, and to great effect, I would say.

The folly of Simpson is clear in his final line, which you sense all his journalistic juices and prejudices have been yearning for:

'Just as they did in Vietnam.'

(ok, it's not 'just like Vietnam!!!', it's the 'measured', 'balanced' BBC version.)

Meanwhile, BITRW, incidents like this one, killing and capturing terrorists without civilian casualties:

'Several women and children were present at the raid sites, officials said. None was harmed, and all were returned to their homes once the troops ensured the area was secure, they added.' (hat tip to Instapundit)

Sunday, June 18, 2006

A Football Story...

Apologies for the last couple of days being without posts. There are a couple of excuses but the summary point is that I was having fun, outside mainly.

Part of this has to do with the fact that I've been entertaining family and doing my tour-guide impression on the streets and trams of Prague, and part of it is to do with football; part is owing to the delicious weather at the moment, and some more to do with trying to maintain a social existence. Oh, and I mustn't omit, work too!

Yesterday I set off with a segment of my family round Prague, and we ended the day at cellar level in a traditional Prague pub- a bad choice for dinner as the national side were about to kick off. Knowing the menu to be totally obscure- all boar's knee and sow's ear-lobe- I asked for an English menu. Sadly with all the misty-eyed patriotism it seemed, errm, that they couldn't find it, so we struggled. As did the Czech football team.

We ate while craning our necks to see the big screen in one direction, and in the other trying to gain the waiter's attention for our small requirements, in between mouthfuls. By the time we left the match was almost over. Drama galore in Germany and the Czesi one-nil down and ten men strong. We strolled to the old town square. A roar erupted from its packed historic centre, but it was a small eruption which soon subsided and never quite rose to the pitch occupied by Czech national fervour. 2-0.

Oops. But the story that has helped me over the brotherly sympathy I tend to have for disappointed Czechs is that a courageous Ghanaian player made a tiny little gesture in the heart of Euroland. Making good a promise he waved an Israeli flag on the occasion of their first goal, identifying with the people among whom he makes his professional living. Good match.

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