Irresponsible Max

 

Not dead yet

…or what I did at the weekend instead of preparing my lectures for this week.

Redneck Max

I spent Saturday with friends out at their gun club in Čelakovice. I learned how to shoot a .22 long rifle, which I was good at, and 12-gauge shotguns which I was not good at. And I have a massive purple bruise colouring the whole inside of my bicep proving that I was not holding the first shotgun quite right. My amateur trainer was clearly delinquent in his duties that day.

I had a good laugh shooting Glocks with my trainer’s 17 year old daughter, who is a crackerjack shot with any kind of gun she picks up. We made up little exercises and competitions to challenge and entertain ourselves. Luckily the members of the gun club purchase their ammunition in giant family value packs.

Rock ‘n’ Roll Max

On Sunday I travelled to Brno to see the Rolling Stones. I had been debating with myself for ages whether I should be a responsible summer programme professor or an irresponsible hedonist who lives for pleasure and worries about the consequences later. I had decided to go the responsible route, but once I had convinced myself that I could sacrifice pleasure for responsibility, at least theoretically, I called off that farce and got a ticket.

I have to say that I was not expecting much. The Rolling Stones had disappointed last year when they cancelled their concert due to Keith Richards falling out of a tree and Ron Wood checking into rehab for the 400^th time. And the favourite wager on the way down to Brno was whether any of them would drop dead during the concert and, if so, which one. The concert venue was outdoors and the forecast was for rain. But I was in a good mood and I was with some good people so I knew I would have fun.

And then the concert turned out to be amazing. Really a lot better than the other Stones concert I had been to, which was Prague in 2003. Part of the reason was that general admission had been split up into premium and plebeian, so that by paying 45% more, I could see the Stones with my own eyes rather than just on the big screens. We were standing a little bit to the right, but really just a few people back from the stage. And Mick Jagger was very good about using the entire width of the stage. Even Keith Richards ventured out to the sides once or twice. They got so close to us that we could see the creases in their trousers and in their faces.

Mick Jagger had more wardrobe changes than Madonna, but he was on incredible form. His energy was astonishing.

Lisa: I would totally fuck Mick Jagger right now.

Max: I reckon even the boys would fuck Mick Jagger right now.

But then I asked the boys and they said they wouldn’t.

Probably the best thing for me last night was that the Stones played Miss You, which was the first Stones song that I ever loved. And now I’ve heard it live. Cool.

After the concert I had to find Annabel who had wandered off and got lost. On the way I met some nice Serbian boys and then finally everyone else caught up with us at the train station. Our 00.28 train was late, and we didn’t get in to Praha hlavní nádraží until 04.00.

I was at work by 9.45. I am sleep deprived and not at my best, but it was totally worth it and I am so happy that I went.

Thanks Annabel, thanks Mikey!

Cobblestones

Prague has beautiful cobblestone sidewalks. I often notice them, but I don’t often speak of them. Asshole talked about them at some length when he was here a couple of weeks ago, and last night I was out with another visitor to Prague who also expressed admiration for our pavements. After we parted I went to walk by the house where Jono and I may be buying a flat to make sure there were cobblestones there. There were.

Here are some photographs that Asshole took while he was here.

* Thanks Asshole!

Max’s weather report

I found this old photo of the Klementinum.

For anyone who is not here in Czech – we are in the midst of a heat wave. Czech is warmer than Italy at the moment, and warmer than most of the rest of Europe.

For anyone who is here but can’t read the Czech news – yesterday’s high at Prague’s official weather station in the Klementinum was 37.3°C.

For anyone who does not understand Celsius – that is 99°F. Baking.

Luckily the humidity has been low so it has not really been uncomfortable. At least for those of us who grew up in desert and savannah climates.

As I write from my un-air-conditioned office…

Picture this… because I didn’t have my camera with me on Saturday (or ever):

A chalkboard outside of a pub (U Kozla in Žižkov) – the top half is a picture of an intensely shining sun with “35°C” written underneath it. Below that, a picture of a frosty frothy glass of beer with the caption “7°C”. Nice spontaneous marketing.

Pivo in the news

 

My day was made perfect this morning at the tram stop when I looked at the newspaper I had just bought and saw that there was a story about beer right on the front page.

MF DNES Beer Test: Every third was under the measure

And after the story: “Further information on page 4 and in the regional supplement, section D.”

It goes without saying that Czechs take their beer seriously. But they are also concerned with the fairness of transactions and not being ripped off. Restaurant menus traditionally list the weight of the meat in their dishes and how much wine or juice you will get in your glass. And beer glasses have a line on them to mark exactly where 0.5 litres is.

Lager should be served with a good head of foam on it. Something about releasing the aromatics and achieving full flavour. Which is why the mark for 0.5 litres is usually about 3 cm below the top of the glass.

And why I can’t abide how they pour lager in England because they treat it like ale, which is poured without a head, and just fill the pint glass with liquid all the way to the top. But that is a complaint for another day.

So every beer glass you ever see in the Czech Republic should have a line on it, and regular beer drinkers often check to see if they are getting their money’s worth. If you want to be able to complain, you have to wait until the foam all settles and you can really see how much liquid you have. Most people don’t have that kind of patience.

“Someplace millimetres, someplace else up to a whole centimetre below the line…”

Journalists went together with inspectors from the Czech Commercial Inspection. They visited 86 pubs all over the country. The inspectors go with rulers and pipettes to measure beer and shots. In Prague, 6 of 10 pubs poured their beer below the line. The inspectors gave one Prague pub an on-the-spot fine of over 5000 Kč (about US$250).

Customers are fully within their rights to complain if their beer does not reach the line. But please consider before you do complain – I don’t recommend pissing off the people that are pouring your beer.

Max’s excuse

I am stupidly busy now.  Work is busy – today is another Friday that I am going to be working late while my friends are already in the pub.

Last weekend I had my Little Sister and Asshole and their two little kids here for four days.  I love them all dearly, but having two small children around me almost constantly has left me frazzled to a point where I barely recognise myself.  The kids just left on Tuesday, but it already seems ages ago (aside from the emotional damage and the sheets that are still waiting to be laundered).

The thing that is killing my blog and interfering with my social life right now is the extra job I have taken on.  I am teaching a course in law for business on a 4-week summer study abroad programme.  I had never taught law before so I knew this would be a challenge.  But it has turned out to be even more labour intensive than I had expected, and it is taking up all of my time.  I suppose that’s an exaggeration since I managed to throw together a dinner for myself and kd on Tuesday and I was out at a bourbon and cigar tasting dinner on Wednesday.  But still, I notice the difference.

My class is crazy.  I have 16 students and 15 of them are Kazakhs.  Thank goodness Borat is not quite an accurate depiction (although K, who has lived in Kazakhstan, swears he is).  The 16^th is American.  As we went through English contract cases today, which I happen to find really interesting, I wasn’t sure if the kids were getting anything at all.  Their levels of English vary quite a bit.  Then I gave them an activity to do and they proved that they had taken in pretty much everything I had said.  That was gratifying.

The students read whatever I tell them to read, they all do their homework and turn it in on time, they ask questions and they seem to be taking their term project seriously.  We’ll see how it goes next week…

Executed for corruption

…and generally being a dick.

China has executed Zheng Xiaoyu, the former head of their state food and drug administration, for corruption and dereliction of duty.

This is too easy. Although I am, in principle, against the death penalty, I think it may be time for us to follow China’s lead.

I propose that:

(i) any politician suspected of either corruption or dereliction of duty be tried for those crimes;

(ii) upon conviction, the judge will in good faith consider execution as a viable punishment;

(iii) we start with our own Dick.

Huh?

 

I got some family news in an email from my mom this evening. She told me that my cousin Nick is going to become a dad in a few months, his girlfriend has moved in with him, but they have not set a date for a wedding, and the girlfriend is Hispanic and a year or two older than Nick. My mom also told me that Nick’s mom is “very upset.”

I sent an email to Nick straight away. I wanted to express my cousinly solidarity because his mom’s reaction made me angry.

Nick is around 37, I think. He has a couple of degrees and a good job, owns his own house, and is basically a responsible grown-up. Nick is therefore the kind of person that should have a baby if he wants one. I am going on the assumption that he does, and therefore this should all be happy news.

Nick’s mom had been thrilled when Nick’s older brothers had kids, but they were both already married and their wives were nice Jewish girls.

The reason I got angry was because I thought Nick’s mom’s reaction was idiotic. Imagine this: you are a mom. Your son calls you and tells you that he is going to be a dad and he is happy about it. You love your son and he is happy, therefore you should be happy too. Why would you look for reasons to be unhappy? Especially when those reasons are petty and immaterial.

As I wrote to Nick: Why can’t people just be happy about stuff? There is enough shit in this world without looking for something extra – and meaningless! – to piss you off.

Česká pošta

 

or, what Max does for fun.

I had been at the post office yesterday morning to pick up a book I had ordered. I had taken my passport with me, just in case, but they didn’t ask to see any ID. There was another package notice waiting for me when I got home last night – I knew it would be a CD that I had ordered for my brother. I went back to the post office this morning, but this time I left my passport at home.

And anyone that has ever gone to pick up a package at a Czech post office already knows exactly where this is going. If you want to make things easy, you take your passport with you; if you’re in the mood for a bit of sparring, you leave it at home.

I handed my notice through the window. The woman asked me for ID. “Občanský průkaz, prosím.” The game was on.

The first piece of photo ID I found in my wallet was my UK learner’s driving licence. I handed it over.

This is a driving licence.

Yes.

Well, I need to see an ID card.

That’s what we use for ID. We don’t have national identity cards.

Well then, I need to see a passport.

I don’t have my passport with me, but I have a copy of it.

Oh no, a copy is no good. We need to see the original. Where are you from?

I’m American. Look, here is my American ID.

Oh, good. You do have ID, this is fine.

Actually, that’s a driving licence too.

And she went to get a book that had pictures of all the different IDs they could accept from different countries, although I think it was just EU and EEA. At any rate, the book contained neither a British driving licence photo card nor a California driving licence.

She still insisted that I would need to present my actual passport. I questioned the rationale of not being able to accept two ID cards + a copy of my passport as a substitute. But she was a true civil servant and she was not going to bend any rules just for the sake of reason. She refused to give me my package.

I live just around the corner from the post office and so I was back within a few minutes. I handed the notice and my passport to the woman behind the glass. She then apologised that she had not been able to accept anything less than my passport. I said that it was okay, that the rules weren’t her fault. She told me that I spoke Czech very well, I thanked her for the compliment. She gave me a paper to sign and then finally handed over my package. We smiled at each other in acknowledgement of a game well played on both sides.

Výročí

zámek – Poděbrady

 

15 years ago today, I arrived in Czechoslovakia.

Happy Anniversary, Peace Corps CS-4.

Mad Max

 

This is an update on yesterday’s “identity theft” post. I wrote that I had sent an email to the offending website. That was true, but I did not actually write the email. Instead, I told Kuba what I wanted to say, and he put it into proper written Czech for me. He also gave the email a more polite tone than I might have.

This morning when I got into work there was an answer to my email waiting for me.

The email, which was signed in a cowardly manner by “the fakedatabase.cz team” rather than by a person, informed me that they do not need my permission to use my name because they had taken it from a publicly accessible database – www.rzp.cz, which is the trade licence register of the Ministry of Industry and Commerce. The email went on to say that of course they could delete my name from their list, but that I would have to send them a written letter requesting that they do so, so that they could be sure that I was the “oprávněná osoba” – the entitled person.

In the meantime, Kuba had found the owner of the website, who I was sure was the same individual that had signed himself “the fakedatabase.cz team”. It didn’t take long to confirm for my own purposes that he speaks English. So I chose to write him back myself.

Dear Dick Head,

I have already once asked you to remove my name from your website. I am asking you again – please do it immediately. A written letter will no more assure you that I am the entitled person than my name on an email. And perhaps you noticed that the signature line on my email shows that I work in a law firm. After I have sent this email to you, I will be phoning the Office for the Protection of Personal Data. I suggest that in future you obtain people’s permission before publishing any of their personal information on your website.

Thank you for your prompt co-operation.

Yours sincerely,

Max

Results thus far: my name is still on the website, and no one in the Data Protection Office is picking up the phone.