The Spirit of Competition

As I sit here the Olympic flame is about to be extinguished. Beijing 2008 draws to a close. It's a strange feeling; a wraithlike, bittersweet, nostalgia. It feels as if I'm mourning for someone I barely knew. The music has been exceedingly well chosen.

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It is gone. The ashes of the torch lie dormant, settling in for another four years of solemn repose.

These Olympics have been significant for me. Neither Sydney nor Athens really interested me. But my outlook on sports, on athleticism itself, have changed dramatically.

No longer is physical prowess the pursuit of uneducated proletarians. No longer is human fitness and strength irrelevant, despite paling - as I oft reminded myself in my younger days - besides that of much of the animal kindgdom.

I am an athlete myself now, a martial artist. Kung fu has slowly stirred in me a respect and deference to those with speed, power, endurance and agility. The grapes are no longer sour, I have recognised them for their sweetness. And I long for them.

In four years' time, the Olympics will come to London. I will have six and a half years of martial arts experience when they arrive. I get the very strong impression that my appreciation for Beijing will be dwarfed by what I see, what I savour, in London.

Goodbye, China. Your Games were truly impressive. Your ceremonies were spectacular. I have seen in your Olympics what your kung fu has wrought. It has stirred a part of me that slept within for seventeen years. Deep within me, with a rippling, surging energy . . .

The dragon awakens.

Does my new niece look evil to you?

She looks evil to me. Here, take a look:

There are those who aren't that good at spotting evil. They'll look at pictures like that and go "awww, she's so cute." BAD REACTION. Don't let her youth and colourful blanket lull you into a false sense of security - just 'cause she has no teeth, don't mean she can't bite.

Some people are so steeped in their ways that they refuse to see truth; others merely don't have enough information to come to the correct conclusions. For those of you in the latter group, I present a comparison:

The fellow on the right is Kim Jong-Il, dictator of North Korea. Notice the similarities. Is that enough proof for you??

If you're still not convinced, you're probably one of those morons who have no idea how to tell if someone's evil or not just by looking at a photo of them. So as a public service, I put together a demotivator, warning you all of the dangers of underestimating this grave new threat:

And that's all we have time for. NEXT WEEK: Mother Theresa

Nobel Peace Prize? Beatification??? ARE YOU FRIGGIN KIDDING ME????

The Swimmer and the Stork

This post was going to be about my new celebrity crush, Stephanie Rice. Ah Stephanie, what a honey! Have you noticed how stunning she looks at the Olympics? Winning Australia's first gold medal doesn't hurt, either. And I'm pretty sure that look is au naturale - I doubt you can wear much make-up to a race. Unless it's waterproof. But still, wouldn't it adversely affect your aerodynamics? This would be a fun line of enquiry, but I'm getting sidetracked.

This post is not about my new celebrity crush, Stephanie Rice. I decided to change the subject an hour ago, when I heard that my sister had given birth. I figured that should rate a mention. Sorry, Steph!

This is her first child. My sister's, not Stephanie's, can we please stay on topic? So now I'm a nuncle. I'm so happy. I've been waiting to be a nuncle ever since I heard Rechama was pregnant. I look forward to being greeted with hearty cries of "how now, nuncle!", though I doubt it'll happen that often.

Oh, do me a favour. Next time you see me, hail me with "how now, nuncle!" It'll make me very happy.

Shmuel Raigorodsky, my brother in law, called in with the news. Rechama was too exhausted too speak to anyone. The baby is apparently a girl, which came as quite a surprise. My mother's side of the family are Sephardim, and they often have dreams predicting the genders of unborn family members. This latest addition was billed by my grandfather to be a boy. Thus we are left on the horns of a dilemma - a new avatar of good old Science vs Religion.

I left a comment on the Raigorodsky family blog, under the post "ITS A GIRL!!!!!!!"[sic]. I've translated the foreign bits:


No, it's not a girl. We haven't seen the baby or spoken to Rechama yet. All we have to go on is that the doctor SAID it's a girl.

My psychic Sephardi relatives said it was going to be a boy, and I have more emunah [faith] in their ruach ha'kodesh [prophetic abilities] than in what some goyishe [gentile] doctor says. So it's a boy.

If you disagree, you're a frei yok [person of questionable religious devotion].


So whom does one believe in these situations? The men of God, or the men of science?

AMAC & WMM. JFGI.

I competed in Round 4 of the Australian Martial Arts Championships last Sunday. It went slightly better than Round 3. I got beaten in my first bout of the day again, but this time it wasn't quite as embarassing. I lost 4-1 to a karateka, who went on to win his next two fights 8-2 and 6-0, and take out the gold. Frustratingly enough, the two who lost to him by larger margins than I did ranked second and third, while I was eliminated off that one fight, purely because of an unfavourable draw.

In other, less sucky news, I came first in the soft forms. Woot!

This week, I downloaded, and taught myself how to use, Windows Movie Maker. The following is my first ever video, so leave nice comments, or it'll hurt my feelings. You have been warned.

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=35963899472