Friday, November 8, 2024

A different view of reviews

                                            

                                                        Sorry. But it is funny. Or is it?

Just spent a very bad week on holiday. My edit came back on the Monday I was away which was not bad. Worse was the paperwork I had to prepare before I appeared in court as an expert witness the day after we were due back. And then of course something disastrous happened on the Tuesday. 

In America. 

He was up all night, hitting his head off the wall.

I’m sure you all feel you’ve had enough so I’m not going to comment.

Well not very much.

                                          

I couldn’t really concentrate on the edit because of the court case. But as I was pulling out the cases to pack to come back I got an email to say a plea was now on the table so I wasn’t required. So just to amuse myself, and hopefully yourself, I started browsing through some of the terrible reviews of the hotel we were staying at.

And realised maybe it's time for humanity to think that some people are too stupid to be allowed an opinion on anything, especially politics.

Here are the reviews. And  my responses if I was in customer service...

It's impossible to go anywhere.  This resort is tiny, there are no bars, no restaurants or anything. I was going mad by day two.   You are probably mad already. It's a very small  cove between two very high cliffs. It's very obvious.

People were judging us as if we are weird. There is a terrible atmosphere. We were two woman holidaying on our own and were fed up with filthy disgusting looks.  Please tell me what you were doing to get such looks...I'm  intrigued. 

There were cats everywhere, I found it very upsetting. They should be rounded up. Ahh, the famous cats of Taurito. They have their own Facebook page. There's 12 of them in the bay, all looked after, all friendly If you don't like cats, don't get involved.

It wasn’t proper sand on the beach. They should let you know that the sand is the wrong colour.  All golden sand in the Canaries is imported. Go somewhere else on holiday.

Our sleep at night was constantly interrupted by the noise of the waves. Nobody told us that the sea would be so noisy. When I explained this to the staff they made no effort to make the sea go quieter.   Maybe the middle of the island would be better for you. Or the middle of the sea.  With or without a boat. Are you the person who has just tiktoked that they couldn't believe that cruise ships  sailed at night when it was dark?

Although it shows clearly on the picture that the hotel was built into a cliff it does not say that the cliff is vertical rather than horizontal. Therefore the rooms at the top are quite high up.  I have vertigo. This is disgraceful. I demanded my money back but got no satisfaction. Ah, good point. As the hotel is actually at ground level. But the ground at that level is high up.

I believe the hotel was built in the  60s. Even in the 60s people knew that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. So the  hotel should have been built at a proper angle so that the balconies get the sun all day.    You could have moved your sunbed.

I couldn’t believe that we were one of the few British people there. It was very unsettling. We voted for BREXIT. Some of the staff spoke Spanish.  I rather enjoy not being surrounded by British people because of comments like this.

It is a rip off to call itself an all inclusive hotel as the drinks covered in the all inclusive package are only water, all soft drinks, coffee tea, beer, red white and rose wine, all spirits and 5 of the more common cocktails.  What do you drink?  The blood of virgins? 

They even had the audacity to refuse to put my wine in a glass for me to take to the pool, offering me a plastic one instead.  Please see below.

The rule about no glass around the pool was  not  strictly enough enforced. Why  oh why can people not pay attention to rules.  Please see above.


                                       

                                                 pesky sea, pesky waves, pesky sunny thing in sky!

After going for a swim, I found myself quite wet. Again I complained to the management and I was not offered a discount.  Towel noun

  1. a piece of thick absorbent cloth or paper used for drying oneself or wiping things dry:
    "a bath towel" · "a paper towel"

The food was totally disgusting, none of it was edible and some of it was foreign. Their themed nights are laughable. One whole section of the buffet was for vegans and vegetarians. It does not say on the brochure that this hotel allows such people. I asked for a discount and I wasn’t given one.   Please do not come here again.

The worst thing about the buffet was that the food was cold, especially the salad. I  complained and didn’t get a discount.   Ditto as above.

We ordered champagne, we were advised that it would be 10 minutes before it was at the right temperature. We said we wanted it now. When it arrived it was at the wrong temperature and they refused to deduct it from the bill.    Ahh... that's the drink that's not on the all inclusive.  I wonder what temperature the virgin's blood was at?  36.5?

                                           

                            The infamous desk where accounts were calculated and novel went unedited


I had my child with me, my child is much younger than me. I could not believe the lack of facilities for my child. It was a terrible holiday. I asked for a refund and I got nothing.  Not at this hotel you didn't as it's adults only. If your child was over 18 he should have been able to amuse himself. Has he seen Psycho?

                                                               

                                                                         The holiday book list!

They say they have a gym, it's tiny. There is nowhere to exercise so I asked for a discount, I didn’t get any.  People run on the beach or swim in the sea or in the pool. There's a park between the hotels with circuit equipment. It's a five minute walk.  Was that too far for you because it wasn't on a treadmill?

I am an American, I chose poorly and we’ve ended up with the wrong President. I was refused a discount.    Here's another country and you will be welcome. Our government is also awful but too inept to do much damage...   

Caro


Thursday, November 7, 2024

Strangefoot

 Michael - Alternate Thursdays


When I first came to Knysna six years ago, I didn’t believe there were still Knysna elephants. Of course, I knew that there had been elephants here in the past, herds of forest wanderers who possibly belonged to a different subspecies to the bushveld elephants and to the Addo elephants 200 miles to the north east. They were recorded by San rock art in the surrounding caves and mountains, and by reports from the days of the Cape Colony. But I believed they were all gone, probably driven to extinction by the years of heavy logging in the forest and the shrinkage of their habitat. From time to time, people claimed to have seen one or a small group deep in the forest. But from time to time people claim to see the Loch Ness monster and Bigfoot.

Strangefoot

However, I was wrong. Although the sightings were often disputed, there were elephants in the Knysna forests – the only unfenced elephants left in South Africa.

A fanciful drawing of elephants in the Knysna forest circa 1800
The history is a sad one. It turns out that the Knysna and Addo elephants are bushveld elephants, they are not different subspecies but the remnants of what used to be a healthy population in the area. The Addo elephants were nearly exterminated, but were brought back from the brink and now a healthy population flourishes in the Addo Elephant National Park. However, the Knysna elephants continued to decline. By the mid-nineties there was believed to be only a few remaining. No doubt with good intentions but not a lot of forethought, in 1994 three juveniles were introduced from the Kruger National Park. The idea was that the remaining individuals would teach the new arrivals the way to survive in the new environment. The experiment was a failure. Kruger elephants are used to browsing on forest verges, not deep in the forest itself. One died fairly soon of illness, and the others soon made their way out of the deep forest and started interacting with humans to the pleasure of neither group. After a few attempts to drive them back into the forest, they were recaptured and returned to a private game reserve close to Kruger.

By the time I moved to Knysna, the general feeling was that the remaining elephants had died, the end of the Knysna elephants. But two National Park rangers knew that wasn’t the case – one lonely female still remained. They weren’t interested in advertising the fact. They knew how to find her when they wanted to if she was nearby, but she didn’t like other humans and she had the right to her peace. Camera traps set up where they suggested, and dung samples proved conclusively that they were right. Strangefoot, as they called her because of the unusual size and shape of her paw prints, was still around and had made a successful living deep in the forest since around 1980, making her 45 years old with a life expectancy of another 20 years.

Wilfred Oraai (left) and Karel Maswati in the Knysna forest.
Picture Julia Evans

But she’s alone. A sad state for any elephant but particularly for a female, who would normally be part of a herd or at least a family group.
Strangefoot’s solitary existence poses a dilemma for conservationists. Some argue that she should be left in peace, while others think that importing more elephants could help preserve her genetic lineage and that leaving a social animal alone is cruel. However, the previous experiment with introducing bushveld elephants is a clear warning.

The new initiative started by seeing what the local people think about the issue. Three quarters of the sample indicated support for adding more elephants for cultural and ecological reasons, but national park scientists warn that people have no experience and little idea of what that actually might mean. The new elephants might not have Strangefoot’s shy disposition. The National Park is trying to move away from the emotional arguments around Strangefoot herself, and more to the cultural and ecological benefits of introducing more elephants. A local elephant park would be willing to donate several individuals and at least these are forest savvy animals. They're used to humans, but that may be a good thing or a bad thing. A lot of discussion, thought and planning is still ahead and the eventual decision is uncertain.

In the meantime, Strangefoot has the forest to herself.






Wednesday, November 6, 2024

Cooking My Way to the Finish

 Sujata Massey


Williamsport, PA, Nov 5


So, Nov 5 came and went. Even though I am writing this the evening of the election, I expected that not all states will have certified results by the morning after,  just as it happened in 2020. 

 

I know that delayed news is better to me than outright bad news. UPDATE: I woke up to the news that Trump won. And I'm so very disappointed.

 

We all have to live with anxiety and uncertainty—no matter which side of the political spectrum we are on. And I suspect a lot of us have suffered very serious uncertainty in our lives; for instance, worrying about someone in the military, or someone seriously ill. I tend to worry more about others than myself, and I don’t know whether this is a good or bad thing. 

 

As with regard to worrying, It's taken decades for to understand that worrying won’t stop anything from happening, good or bad. 

 

Leading up to this election, many of us who cared did the best we could. I tend to throw myself into doing things outside the house when I’m anxious about something I can't control. Therefore, I became a campaign volunteer on weekends. I canvassed for voters, which meant going door to door to talk with people, if they are willing, and leaving campaign literature. On Tuesday, I drove to a central Pennsylvania mountain town, Williamsport, to help with whatever they needed. Turned out it was doorknocking—in my mind, I had thought I might be a driver to polling places. This was simple and straightforward work, and I appreciated how the addresses were easy to find in this old-fashioned industrial town.  I did not find many folks at home—except for children, who had the day of because of the election.


Of all the volunteer shifts I've had, this one was the quietest with the fewest volunteers, and I was aware it was in a county that would very likely give the majority of votes to Donald Trump. The volunteer headquarters, which was in an interesting old factory building that at one time manufactured more pajamas than any other place on earth. Now it is mostly space for community and artists. Just a few days earlier, strangers had come by and noticed a truck with Harris Walz stickers parked outside the Pajama Factory. The people spray-painted obscenities about Kamala Harris on the truck and then set it ablaze. I heard it from the skeleton crew of volunteers in the building, hoping for the best. And when I traveled through the neighborhoods, seeing the number of people who hadn't yet voted, I had a very sad feeling that they wouldn't go.



 

The sun set and I put an audiobook on to play through the speakers of my car. I drove home along the small highways to Baltimore, just two-and-a-half hours to my destiny of waiting safely at home with unsafe emotions. As I mentioned, being at home has not felt relaxing lately. As a result, I haven’t cooked much and the fridge is almost bare. Recently Tony had left in the snack drawer a half-bag of kettle chips, carefully sealed with a clip. He came asking me later if I knew where the bag was, and I had to admit that I’d eaten it all. 

 

We are often lectured that eating in times of stress is an unhealthy habit, but I think it’s a lot better than some other ways of coping with unease. We all have our strategies.




Stuffed Shells at my Baltimore House, Nov 5


 

I'v had the feeling since Monday that I wanted a few casseroles in the house for emotional protection. I knew I wanted something I hadn’t made in a year or two: a rich, saucy lasagna. I pictured a large baking dish filled with a casserole of cheese, tomato, pasta and spinach. The kind my mother made. A large amount that would create leftovers that I would be able to reheat and eat to my heart’s content, yes, maybe with a little salad on the side, and maybe dessert.

 

I realized that nobody had the time to make this dream lasagna for me. So, on Monday, I tried to buy ingredients at my local store. Unbelievably, there were no boxes of the flat, wide strip noodles used for lasagna. It made me wonder if others are going through the same kind of cravings.  I've always thought that ricotta-and-spinach stuffed pasta shells are practically the same. he large shell noodles, conchiglie, were on the shelf, so I grabbed them.


At home I just parboiled the noodles, filled them with a mix of lightly sauteed spinach (1 box defrosted from frozen) and enough ricotta, parmesan and provolone cheese to suit my taste. Half of the cheese mixture was suitable for me (vegan or low-lactose cheeses) and the other half was bring-it-on full fat ricotta for Tony and Neel. 


I made a happy arrangement of conchiglie in an 11x9 ceramic baking pan with a little tomato sauce on the bottom. Over that I poured about 3 cups of sauce (one cup chunky homemade and two cups good quality marinara. Then I covered the casserole and put it in the fridge for election night.  And when I got home from Pennsylvania a few hours ago, weary from the driving, I opened the door and smelled tomato, onion and cheese.

 

Having a hot dish waiting at home for me, during the difficult time I'm waiting for news, made me feel a little more comforted. And the very act of cooking good things strikes me as an act of faith. It means that I can take care of my own needs and sustain myself to go on, no matter who is in charge of the country. 

Tuesday, November 5, 2024

... Because I Can't Pantster a Cardigan!

Ovidia--every other Tuesday

I've pretty much finished the cardigan I was knitting as I worked on the last book. I like to have a craft project running alongside the 'big' writing projects because there are times, in the middle of these six to eight month writing periods, when I find my brain and eyes are too tired to read or watch anything but at the same time I'm too wound up to sleep or relax.

So that's when I knit...

Knitting is something I can do with my eyes shut, but requires just enough attention that I stop thinking about how differently I should have done the day's writing!
The bulk of the big pieces (back, left & right fronts, sleeves) got finished around the same time as I submitted the Rose Apple Tree draft.
And yesterday I did the button band--



I should be able to finish the buttonhole band tonight, then all that remains will be to assemble all the pieces--which should be a pretty straightforward process. It'll still take time and careful positioning and stitching, but it should be 'easy'.

Which was pretty much how I wanted to work my NaNoWriMo project (which I still haven't started yet).

I had some difficulties with logging into the site but that's just an excuse because I'm having more difficulties with putting together the ideas I've had.

I'd intended to 'pantster' this project as an exercise over November. It's not how I normally write, but so many people say that's the only way they can write, and I wanted to see how it worked. Also, because I always have so many ideas I want to explore, I thought I could just braindump and get 50,000 words towards the next project.

Only I'm having trouble figuring how to link up all the ideas I have!

Frankly, it's a mess!

What I'm ending up with is kind of how my knitting projects would turn out if I just started knitting to try out new stitch patterns or new needles (which has happened--I love the bamboo needles I got in Bristol last Crimefest and have been trying them out) but these little sample stitch things don't add up to anything usable any more than my 'great' ideas are adding up to the next book.

So I'm stepping back to try to work things out. Which is also why I'm knitting even when I'm not tired now!

Right now I feel like I can't immerse myself into any other projects because the Rose Apple comments/ feedback/ edits will need to be attended to as soon as they come in. Which I'm kind of looking forward to doing!
Overall, my November is a great place to be in, with the bulk of the year's writing done and new project ideas to play around with!

With the book deadline met, I'm using also using this time to reset and reboot and catch up on my reading.

Which is why I've finally had time to read Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus and I really really LOVE it! I hear it's been filmed but I'm not sure if I want to watch the show given how much I love the book.
(I've been visualising Calvin and Elizabeth as a litarary versions of Sheldon and Amy from the Big Bang Theory so part of me is afraid of being disappointed, no matter how good the film version is)

And I've gone back to attending weekly pilates and yoga sessions and doing yoga at home as well as swimming and walking on the other days, so I'm feeling really good.

Also, the Singapore Writers Festival starts this weekend. I'm not speaking, meaning I can enjoy it and I'm looking forward to it without dread this year!

I hope everyone else is having a peaceful, productive and wonderful November too--however the American elections turn out. Oh--and I just want to mention something a visitor said (not sure if she was joking) about Lee Hsien Yang seeking asylum in the UK--
'He's kind of like your Prince Harry, isn't he--'
I think that's the best way I've heard it put so far!

Anyway, we wish him well (without mentioning the property assets he still owns here while claiming to be broke) and hope he turns out better than Amos Yee, that other asylum seeker who ended up (in prison) in America!

Happy November everybody!

Sunday, November 3, 2024

America the Beautiful

 Annamaria on Monday 



"Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove."

Most of you will recognize the words from Shakespeare's Sonnet 116.  I offer them as an explanation, both to myself and to all of you, to explain why I am loving my country so deeply at this dire moment.

Typically, my feelings of patriotism are strongest for my City of New York.  I regularly walk around feeling great about the place where I live.  But today I am filled with love for the USA, for what it has always stood for to me.

I am the grandchild of four immigrants from Italy, including my maternal grandmother who arrived at age three in the arms of her parents.  My grandparents  were all profoundly grateful for the new start America gave them.  They raised their children to love the USA.  Their sons (eight in total) all volunteered to fight for the USA in WWII.

My mother's brother and my godfather. John Pisacane-
who fought in Patton's Army in Sicily and Anzio and
was killed during the push to Berlin.

I love my country despite its flaws.  My love is for America, the only functioning democracy created after an armed revolution against a tyrant.  All the others pretty quickly turned into a bloodbath or a dictatorship or both.  Think of the others--the French, the Russia, the Cuban, the Chinese...

My sacred document is the United States Constitution. 

My love is for the America that is, at this moment, trying to become a better functioning multicultural, multiracial, multi-religious, multi-everything democracy--the only one on the planet.

Sound impossible?  Not to me.

My beautiful City of New York already functions that way.  500 languages are spoken here.  The hands holding onto the poles on the subway are in all the colors human skin comes in.  We live and let live. But if a person falls down, the people nearby converge to help, regardless of social background or sexual preference of the person who fell.  And then the concerned fellow New Yorkers disappear into the crowd when help is no longer needed.

I want to shout at the rest of the country: "BE LIKE US." 

At this point in time, the rest of the country is fighting with itself.

Here we are at this critical moment. And what I feel is love.

And I offer this prayer.


Here are the words by Katharine Lee Bates, an English professor at Wellesley College.


I have rearranged sequence, putting the third stanza first, as the brilliant Ray Charles did.  Somehow he saw that the heroes would have to prove themself again at this moment: 

O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved
And mercy more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine,
Till all success be nobleness,
And every gain divine!

O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for pilgrim feet,
Whose stern, impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!

O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

My prayer is for those who are standing up now, as my father and my uncles did.  Today's Americans are at this moment the "heroes proved in liberating strife, who more than self their country love and mercy more than life.

America! America!."

Saturday, November 2, 2024

Halloween Isn't Big in Greece, But Costumes Are.

 


Jeff—Saturday

In past years I’ve generally ended my six months in Greece about this time.  My reasoning was simple.  Returning to New York City on Halloween meant that many of the same characters I’d grown used to seeing on Mykonos would be out in force on the streets of Manhattan.


Besides, I wasn’t missing out on any Greek ghouls or goblins (at least not of the unelected sort), because Halloween is virtually non-existent in Greece, except by expats for their children and some places catering to tourists.  That’s not meant to suggest Greeks don’t like to party in costume—the ancients invented it.  Modern Greeks do it big time during Apokries, a three-week festival preceding Greek Orthodox Lent (think February), also known as Carnival.  I’ve described those festivities of Lent before (It’s Mardi Gras Time in Greece), but today I thought I’d concentrate on the costumes.

As reported a few years back on a website called Hubpages :

Adults dress up and throw parties or frequent the town cafes and bars dressed in masks, wigs and funny, scary or risquƩ costumes. For example men often dress up as outrageous women with high heels, short skirts, huge inflated false boobs and an overdose of lipstick, blusher and false eyelashes. Others may dress up as priests or wear masks of well known politicians, actors or film characters. They often carry props such as plastic battons, streamers, confetti, tins of foam, whistles and clackers; all adding to the rowdy party atmosphere.



Children - even babies - enjoy the fun too of course... masquerade parties are held in villages and schools for the young ones, who dress up in all manner of costumes from witches and warlocks to telly tubbies and angels.

Masqueraders use their disguises and masks to call anonymously at the houses of friends and neighbours, who try to guess their identities.

Cakes and sweets are offered to the masquerading children on these house calls, or shots of whisky or the local fire water to adults in disguise. This is usually a ploy to entice the masquerader to remove his mask to uncover his identity!

 So similarly there is a kind of trick or treating here in Greek Apokries, but ..... they get to do both. The treat is offered - the sweet, cake or whisky, but is then usually followed by the trick - throwing confetti, streamers or foam all around the house (yes I know it's tame, and just in fun, but you try cleaning up tons of the stuff from your carpet!).



At the end of the three-week period Apokries culminates with the Grand Carnival Parades which are held all across Greece. The largest and most famous of which is held in Patras. There are also large parades held in Athens and in Rethymnon, Crete, amongst many others.


But back in NYC there are other forms of celebration, most famously the 51st annual Greenwich Village Halloween Parade.

But the costume celebration I most favor these days takes place away from the heart of Manhattan, and features a lovely young lady who's halloween haul always amazes me.


May all your goblins remain imaginary ... and unelected.

—Jeff

PS.  For those in the US, don't forget to set your clocks back an hour at 12:01 AM Sunday.

Friday, November 1, 2024

The Lost Weekend

 

The World Acupuncture Conference is a very prestigious event. Like Bouchercon, it moves around but generally stays in the far east.


In 2024, it came to London to a hotel that looked like it was near Windsor. It wasn’t. I’ve never been to Windsor, never seen the castle, but I thought it would be nice to go and witness the long walk which you might remember from the funeral of Queen Elizabeth 2nd. I didn’t get to do any of that.

I do British Medical Acupuncture, the sort of acupuncture that British doctors and physiotherapists use. It’s much more trigger point/dry needling than bathing the feet in lotus leaves and sticking 7 inch needles through the neck type of acupuncture. The acupuncture we do is very medical based and with proven meta data.

The man in charge of BMAS is a ex-army, probably ex-Sandhurst officer, battlefield acupuncture specialist. As you would presume, he has very good posture and is very precise in everything. Events that he runs go like clockwork.

I still don’t understand who was running the international conference. It started off badly for us when the taxi from Heathrow very confidently dropped us off at the Radisson Blu rather than the Radisson Red. So that was a long walk through the industrial wasteland that surrounds Heathrow airport.

                                              

It was an expensive hotel with no breakfast and even less charm. It was a long walk to go anywhere. There was no way out, no where else to go to eat rather than paying half the GDP of the US economy for a tiny bowl of cheesy pasta. Alan set off with a credit card and a sat nav on his phone to get supplies. He hasn’t been seen since.

                                                 

Fuelled by sweeties bought coming through Heathrow, I attended the opening ceremony of the WAC. It was hard to describe but I shall try. Very large hall with some 800 people in it, maybe 10% European. There was a top table facing the stage, white tablecloth and flowers etc. On the stage was a lectern and more flowers. Behind that was a screen. To the left and the right were very big screens reminiscent of a rock concert.

The process went like this. Somebody talked. We had simultaneous translation in our ears. Nobody really said anything apart from how good it was to be here. Orr maybe they did but we didn’t get that translated. But the 12 five minute intro slots of the opening ceremony slowly crept to 2 hours and beyond. Somebody would be introduced. They would stand up at the top table and bow to the audience and then walk to the side of the top table and bow again. While this was going on there was music, the same music used by the Soviet gymnasts in 1972 during the floor exercise. The speaker would then walk on to the stage and there was more bowing, and then they would stand behind the lectern, the music stopped abruptly and the speaker disappeared behind the foliage of the floral display.

At this point they handed over the USB stick to the technical person who then fiddled about with it for another 2 or 3 minutes with all sorts of interesting pieces of their desktop appearing on the screen. Eventually the correct powerpoint presentation would appear. The  top half of it in their native language, the lower half was in English. Or, it might have been, but it wasn’t actually visible to anybody in the audience. I thought the big screens at either side would have shown the presentations also but alas they were showing the faces of the people at the top table as they nodded wisely. From then on it just ran later and later. One of my favourite lecturers in the world was supposed to give a 40 minute lecture on the degranulation of the mast cell. He was told he had 10 minutes.

                                               

After lunch all the lecturers were either Korean or Chinese and there was no translation. So all the Europeans went up to their hotel room to watch Endeavour. And it all cost an awful lot of money.

I think my favourite lecturer was also slightly perturbed at not being able to deliver the lecture that he was supposed to. He’s Scandinavian. He held up his USB stick and said ‘We are not doing this as it takes too long.’ He is a cartoonist as well as a Professor of Medicine, he knows a lot about neuro physiology and uses his cartoons as a teaching method. So with the camera on the lectern, he quickly drew a big brain and wrote underneath it, “the male brain”. Then he drew a very small brain and wrote under that “the female brain”. He said the big male brain was very busy and indicated that ¾ of it was constantly thinking at a very high rate, mostly about women and football. Whereas the female brain worked at a lower, but more consistent rate, putting right all that was wrong with the world.

                                                     

Nobody laughed.

I guess it was lost in translation.