The practice of TV and cable news repeaters giving their report in the midst of hurricane winds and rain, while sometimes strapped to an object, is idiotic. These are the same people who scold surfers for riding waves TWO DAYS before the hurricane arrives.
Someday, I'd like to attend a men's breakfast at some parish where we would not feel the need to speak of spiritual things. Since I always have to talk about spiritual matters, it's a rare treat to speak of things that normal men talk about. Conversations about baseball, for example, permit a liminal awareness of the life of the spirit and strengthens the fabric of community. Although, I suppose I feel that way only when the Cleveland Indians are doing well. Otherwise, it's "Hey, how about that Jesus guy?"
I notice weather and climate become synonymous whenever political points can be scored.
I prefer Big Bash cricket to the traditional. Well, except for the absence of cucumber sandwiches. The idea of cricket with cheerleaders, colorful team names and uniforms, a showy scoreboard, and a flashing LED wicket are too absurd and wonderful not to appreciate.