Donald Trump: What does he mean to you?

Dear readers,

This is an open question to you really. Personally I am not a fan, as you might imagine. We hear, watch and read mountains of news items about him, all with a political agenda in one form or other. Some believe he is saving America, other say he is corrupt, an idiot, sexist, racist etc. Are we to descend into a world of chaos or is it all hot air? The one view I have had most resonance with is from Noam Chomsky, who says Trump is being propped up by the more sinister side of the Republican Party. Yet, I think most politicians are a puppet to higher powers, in one form or other, right or left. That’s the game of politics.

Now, I don’t want to enforce my opinion too much, nor am I going to speak of his policies. This is down to you. Love him or hate him, write what you think of him. Try not to get angry or aggressive with people with opposing views and resort to name calling. This is a space for intelligent debate and views, to learn from each other, rather than turning to hate.

I look forward to reading your views.

Leave your comments below.

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£200 million for Neymar?

Dear readers,

I love football. Those who read my blog regularly know that I do. I’ve loved it since the age of seven. My mother has always marveled how I hold useless football trivia in my head, rather than school work.

She might well be right.

It might be nostalgia, but I feel I loved football in a more romantic age, when normal men were doing superhero flashes of skill. Take Maradona, or even Peter Beardsley or John Barnes. It made football more exciting, because on some bizarre level, you identified with the players.

The money in the game is well documented, along with the scandals and transfer fees, and they have always been there. They’re not going away. And the players, the Ronaldos and Messis. They are outstanding sportsmen, amazing athletes, up there playing head tennis with the Gods. And their stats tell the story.

But, in my humble opinion, it feels that these players like should be performing like that, considering the amount they’re paid, how much the clubs charge the fans and the TV money involved. And it’s this that brings me to the conclusion that the magic is being seived out the game. Don’t get me wrong, the Messis and Ronaldos work hard and perform well, but it’s no longer a surprise when they score an overhead volley because they do it every week and they are paid huge amounts of dosh. Call me envious, you might be right. I understand they still have to go out there and do the job, while taking smacks, kicks, criticism etc. However, if they scored the same overhead volley while tied up, playing the violin and dressed as a dolphin, I might stop yawning.

Yet again this summer we’re seeing even more millions being spent on transfer fees and wages, especially in the Premier League, for players I have never heard of. Daniel Levy, the Tottenham Hotspurs director, has already spoken of the other clubs’ irresponsible behaviour in the transfer market and the importance of balancing the books, and I agree. At the same time in the UK, I read in the British press that NHS is going up in smoke, poverty on the rise, and reports of yet another economic crash on the way; the whole football industry it feels a bit morally bankrupt to me.

Then we have the recent insane bid for the Brazilian superstar Neymar. He currently plays for Barcelona. Paris St Germain have reportedly bid around £200 million. Yes. Catch your breath and read that again. £200 million. For a football player. One man. There have been other crazy bids that have given me a wet fish slap over the years, but this one makes me question whether the sport has spiralled out of control.

I’m not naive enough not to mention shirt sales and other revenue he can bring to the club. Just think though, one rash challenge could wreck his season, or worse, his career. You wouldn’t wish that on anyone, yet it happens.

Some say the money goes back into the game, but I’m less sure about that. These deals go to the club or the agents, etc. I could go on all day, yet I want to see if there’s anyone out there who thinks this is good for the beautiful game. At the moment, it’s a sport I’m increasingly becoming detached from. Well, that is until the Premiership kicks off again in two weeks or so, but until then, I’ll sit and remain in disgust while the game spins out of control without a ball being kicked.


Two years married, with many more to come

Dear readers,

Pamela Cruz Lozano. She’s lying next to me right now. She’s looking at pictures of dogs. Our own, Vicente, is outside, in need of Valium, as do many five month old puppies. Pamela is my wife.

Two years to this day, this very moment, we were walking down the ailse. I was a couple of gin and tonics to the good, a little something to settle my nerves, courtesy of my cousin Sam (we later danced to his song, Poets). I was sure of everything going well, as I was about (and still am) about spending the rest of my life with the woman next to me now, as woods and barks echo from her phone.

I remember the lamp toppling over and Jordan Kenny and Dennisse Cruz Lozano being the best man and maid of honor swallowing the bread of Christ, despite them being more atheist these days than Richard Dawkins. I remember nearly toppling over as well taking the rosary beads to the statue of Mary. Friends and family surrounding me. Pamela with happy tears in her eyes.

We wed at the church in Miraflores. Our house now stands a stone throw away. I sometimes take Vicente there for walks around the car park. Churches have always given me a sense of peace, as it does for many, even before I became Catholic. But these walks always remind me of that night. That life-changing night. That moment.

Strangely, with all the superstition surrounding weddings, we just had a black month in the house. Usually this is associated with bad omens. Death even. Yet in other cultures it’s an out with the old and in with the new, the mark of positive times to come. My wife, being the bubbly and positive, have helped me think the same way.

So let the moth be a great omen, after an already couple of great years of marriage.

Te amo mucho.


Election Day

Dear readers,

Another f–king election? I can’t stand the b—–d things anymore. I know many of you are reading this and thinking, “at least you get the right to vote.” And you’re right. Absolutely right. People have lost their lives to enable me to vote. Yet I still feel compelled to hate elections. Why? Because I’ve been on the losing side for the last God knows how many. Even when I have had no right to vote and it’s in a different country entirely, I’ve lost. Referendums and independence votes: lost. I feel like a bad luck omen. But I guess many others feel the same. Bad loser? Oh yes. Inability to face reality; yep. Yet with the direction the world is going, I feel I’ve voted on the right side of history, so to speak. I have to give myself credit.

We’ve had an avalanche of elections of late. The UK has had to vote on something every year since 2014. There’s been the US (disaster), France (that one was moderately better), Holland (much better) and Honduras (in November). We’ve seen a rise in the far right, or in some cases left, and also “non-traditional” candidates taking a stand, in Honduras’s case Salvador Nasarrala, who was originally a political/football journalist. In Guatemala they have a former comedian. And it all goes to show that voters are fed up the technocrats and bureaucrats who have allowed corporations tax breaks and banks a free reign to behave how they please, while trying to trick the voting public by passing unpopular bills and cutting public services until they are longer viable. There’s corruption at all levels, such as the UK voting scandal back in 2015, and Odebrecht throughout Latin America, where the Brazilian construction company, possibly the biggest in the region, paid bribes to politicians to win public construction contracts. It involves a whole host of politicians, many of who are in prison or are being investigated. People are fed up of being cheated. They really do just want an honest man or woman, or what appears to be an honest man or woman, someone who they identify with, irrespective of their political experience, to take power. This is one of the reasons for Jeremy Corbyn’s rise.

The mudslinging you get with all elections, the media throwing wild, defaming allegations to sway your vote, the bullshit flowing from mouths, the mudane rhetorics, the red and blue colours of the party flags that brand empty slogans, the bogus polls, the opinions (every eejit suddenly claims to be a political genius over night, yet nobody really understands what is going on), and scoring political points over tragedies, like we have seen in the recent terrorist attacks in the UK. And then people ask why the people don’t turn up at the polling booths.

After all that, I am going to completely contradict myself and say this UK election should really have come when David Cameron resigned last year. Theresa May called for an election to try and crush Labour, yet Jeremy Corbyn has risen from the ashes and the vote seems to be closer than we think. The Tory arrogance seems to have forgotten how hated they are for seven years of very unnecessary welfare and public service cuts. And when you have a calm gentleman who looks like a Jedi come to the front promising all sorts, you can see why Corbyn has risen.

I am able to vote through my father (we have very similar political ideals, so I assure you I’ve not sold my vote) although I must say that I feel a bit of a fraud as I’ve not been in the UK since 2014. I will, as you might have guessed, for Labour. It’s not perfect, but my ideals are more inline with Mr. Corbyn. Another five years of Tory is not what the country needs, in my view. It has cut the country from Europe and alienated all. But I don’t judge Tory voters. Vote as you see best. However, for any Tories reading this, remember that judging is a Catholic sin and you’ll go to hell for that, and not just for voting the way you do. Joke, of course, but I hope, somehow, whatever the result, for a less divided nation. Furthermore, I don’t want to see another vote for another five years. I am all voted out. I have to hear all this again in the Honduran elections in the coming months, although I’m thinking of buying cotton swabs to cover my ear holes.

To conclude, let the best man win. Let it be Labour.


Vicente José Rogers Cruz – part 2

Dear readers,

They grow up fast, don’t they? Children. Dogs. Pets in general. Not that children should be labeled pets. It’s been a month since I last wrote about Vicente, our little rescued pup who seems a lot less little by the day. We took him in when he was a month old. He was barely a kilogram and a helpless little thing, suffering from an array of stomach problems, with worms to parasites, that gave him a notable little belly earning him the nickname panzon, roughly meaning potbelly. He now weighs in at 3.5 kilos (and that was vet’s assessment last week), with no stomach issues and a growing confidence, intelligence and strength that definitely comes from his German Shepherd side. He also has fuller face, a stubborn personality, and is quite protective of Pamela and I. We are now able to take him out and he he now sizes up people and dogs, and circles us, ensuring we’re safe first. I know this is common with dogs, but it reminds me of my brother’s German Shepherds. I confess that I have always been nervous around dogs, and I always get annoyed of owners who claim their dogs are fine and safe, even when baring their teeth. I have made a promise to myself that I won’t be that type of owner. 

I have only kept cats (and birds and gerbils and hamsters) before, and I still kind of prefer them. Their personalities, being independent and cleaner and less demanding. I don’t think I’ll be able to have cats with Frido. Like Frido, Pamela isn’t a fan of cats. Cats aren’t very popular in Honduras in general, suffering all sorts of abuse and cruelty, which I believe has evolved them into more hostile and less friendly creatures on this side of the world, especially to humanoids, all based on silly non-truths and superstition. They can still be friendly and loyal, less so than dogs I agree, yet they have so much more grace, style, intelligence and arrogance, which I love. Everyday I still miss the two cats we had, Huey and Oscar, now in cat heaven.

I still find myself wondering how I talked myself into having a dog. I’m sure my family think the same. You can tell from my earlier posts I have not always been a canine fan, having been attacked by a few, one of which hospitalized me and left me with stitches. It’s not to say I don’t enjoy or love Vicente. He’s a loyal little man. But the care and attention he demands is exhausting. Saying that, I wasn’t expecting an easy ride.

Having a dog is like having a child, although that may well be a brainless statement because I don’t have kids, so I am sure parents are thinking “this boy hasn’t a clue”, but you get the message. Understanding their mentality as a pack animal, the behaviour and training they need, has lead me to read a couple of books on dogs and watch a few YouTube videos. One of the said books is Think Dog by John Fisher, a famous dog psychologist. He has given me much food for thought, especially in toilet training and nipping. Vicente didn’t get the full training from his own mother (she unfortunately died in a fire), which is essential for the first couple of months in a dog’s life, as it teaches it how to bite and more elements of the pack instinct. We have tried to teach Vicente through yelping and positive behaviour reinforcement, but it tries our patience. Pooing and weeing in all areas of the house is also an issue. We have got through forests of newspapers, using special dog perfumes and repellent​s, yet it doesn’t seem to work. He does understand commands sit, stay, stop, and come, and he knows he must be sat before he gets food. He also retrieves balls for us, something we barely had to teach, which makes me wonder if he has some sort of retriever blood in him. He knows not to mess with Frido (he received a sucker punch to the nose from sweet southpaw from Frido’s swiping beak once; that proved to be the best deterrent). He has lots of toys, one of which includes a squeaky chicken which he loves. He also keeps stealing Pam’s shoes and leaving big teeth marks in the impossibly high heels (Pamela has more shoes than a millipede has feet, so don’t feel too sorry for her). He alsohates baths, which is a surprise because he seems to want to jump and roll in in every puddle he can find; the dirtier, the better (for him).

I have to be tough at times. I don’t particularly like to be. Punishments and deterrents are not easy. Some people smack or are aggressive to their dog. The book obviously says no. Dogs don’t really understand revenge punishments. They just read it as aggression. I am also learning about loyalty, dominance, and pack instinct, especially interacting and stroking the dog, why dogs cry or get jealous, their protectiveness over food. Sometimes I appreciate it. Sometimes I want to say, why can’t you behave like a cat? Cruel, I know, but cats are so much more chilled. I miss that a little.

Vicente is gaining fans in the neighbourhood. He’s not loud. Just adorable. We look forward to seeing him grow up, as he seems very obedient and loyal to us, just not to our shoes or trouser legs or bare heels. The vet is still a little unsure how big Vicente will be. She says medium-sized, judging by the size of his head and paws (I didn’t know you could judge a dog’s future size like that), although some friends think he will be bigger. I, for one, does not know what medium sized is. My main worry is that he eats like a horse, and what the future food bill will be.

In general though, so far so good.

If you have any doggy tips, please leave them below.


Bad decisions – a rant

Dear readers,

Not a long post. More of a rhetorical question mixed with a rant.

Yes, as the title suggests, it’s about decisions. Vague, I know. But decisions. Why are people not very good at making them, especially those in power? I’m not arrogant or vain enough to believe I’m the best decision-maker in the world. I know I’m not.

Let’s get back to those in power. That’s my beef.  Those who make decisions based on personal or political interest or just plain idiocy that affects billions. Those behind the banking crisis, for example, but then hide themselves when the judges come calling. These decisions are nothing new; they’ve been going on since at dawn of civilisation, which seems more and more like an intrinisic flaw in our species. Yet only until recently we’ve been able to see these decisions to their fuller extent. Social media, the internet and 24 hour news ensures it comes at us thick and fast and aplenty. And each decision feels more and more depressing, omnious and out of our control. To me anyway; I’m not sure about you.

What decisions are you talking of then, sad sacks? I hear you saying. Those made by the current folk in power. Trump is obviously a great case study who’s made a few. From trying to provoke a war with North Korea, to sacking the head of the FBI, to adding higher taxing money transfers of immigrants in the US sending money back home to pay for a wall to, supposedly, keep them out (all based on vindiction, especially the last, which is not a strategy to prevent immigrants feeling the need to travel in the first place). These are decisions made powers who don’t really know what their doing.

FIFA. They’re also bad decision-makers. Corrupt decision-makers, let’s say, very much in bed with politics. The self-proclaimed football family is possibly the most hated in the neighborhood called planet Earth, whose family values are based on arrogrance, lies and fear, where sacking ethics judges investigating corruption to hide their wrong-doings and then shamelessly blame the press. Every decision they make now whiffs of corruption. Yet they get away with it.

Then you get decisions portrayed as “in the best interests of the people” yet there’s a huge slice of self-interest or bullshit and it whiffs up high above the fog mundane words. Politicians, the most machiavellian, are artists at this. David Cameron and Theresa May, especially. Forcing a referendum and then deciding on the worst possible option for an EU exit. The folk they serve are merely fodder for their reckless, self-interest. Intelligent they are. But the most round-about decisions they make. Every decision is a cascade, but it’s the public that crash on the rocks.

I’m sick of decisions. Sick of people who are useless at making them doing so ony behalf. It’s depressing. 

Yes. All this could be seen as a meaningless ramble. But I’m glad to have vented it.

I read the other day that Stephen Hawking once said that “human greed and stupidity are the greatest threats to Earth.”

He might well be right.

Death to bad decisions. Viva the sane ones


Little voice

Dear readers,

A little poem for my wife, who is a superstar with a million brilliant talents.

Little voice

Love is a glorious thing,

Especially when I hear my wife sing,

Even in the early hours,

When the dew’s being sucked by the waking flowers,

Even when the song’s a bit daft,

Bringing harmony to regaeton is her craft,

Even when she’s humming notes in the shower making me late for the job,

The curing chords makes the day less of a slog.

Yes, she’s the one who brings a smile to my tiring face,

Knowing her voice is just for me, in our place.