I try to be a good citizen of the world.
I curse the Brits when they momentarily send my 401k into a power dive.
I worry about territorial disputes in the South China Sea – just don’t make me point to any of that territory on a globe.
Hey, I just renewed my passport, in case I ever get the urge to pick up an exotic parasite, be insulted in another language and mistakenly order some organ-based dish for dinner.
This weekend is big for worldly guys like me.
France and Portugal play Sunday in the Euro Cup final. Soccer, I believe, is the sport in question, judging by all the kicking that’s going on over at ESPN, in between updates on Kevin Durant’s current mood.
When Cristiano Ronaldo and the jet-heeled (saw that term in a story today and loved it) Antoine Griezmann get together, you can throw out the record books. No, wait, let me check out those record books first because I have no idea who those people are and what makes them famous.
For a time there I was simply captivated by Iceland’s surprising showing at meeting of European foot fetishists. The disappointment, however, subsided as quickly as my ability to cite one non-herring-based fact about Iceland.
At Wimbledon, the women’s and men’s final are this weekend, which means it must be time again for Serena Williams to be the biggest thing on grass since the entire city of Amsterdam.
I hear there’s a Canadian man in Sunday’s final for the first time, which is darling. It’s a good fallback for a country that can’t win the Stanley Cup anymore.
Next week, the British Open happens, and between NBC and the Golf Channel nearly 50 broadcasting hours will be devoted to golf on a landing strip (CBS and ESPN combined for just 18.5 hours during the Masters). By the time you take in all the action from Royal Troon, you will feel the need to hug the nearest loblolly pine.
Football is near, but in the meantime, it is a great time to be a man of the world, isn’t it?