Why do athletes cheat?

Losing on purpose is also cheating, folks.

This is prompted by the current kerfuffle surrounding the Pakistani cricket team, who are currently on tour of England, and whose thumping Test series defeat was given just a touch more zip and zing by a firestorm of accusations about spot-fixing. For those of you who are not either bettors or sport-watchers, spot-fixing consists of ensuring a certain small event within a contest. For example, people could bet on whether the sixth ball of the tenth over will be a no-ball. So far, so good. Betting on sports is stupid and possibly soul-tarnishing, but it's not actually dishonest.

However, if someone pays the bowler to ensure that the sixth ball of the tenth over will be a no-ball, we have a problem.

Sure, the kid might be young. Sure, he might not make very much money. Sure, spot-fixing doesn't necessarily affect the outcome of the match.

At what point is it not still obviously wrong?

I realize it's all well and good for me to whine about the integrity of the game. My livelihood doesn't depend on it, and I can be starry-eyed if I want to. No one has ever offered me money to step over the crease on a certain delivery, so I don't actually know how I'd answer.

But shouldn't someone who plays the game for a living care more about it than I do?

Why, Jack Kerouac, why?

I was reading this stupid, irritating, self-involved book and the cover crackled just like cellophane in the lamplight, which is what it was, but it was nonetheless transcendent, because everyone in it was so dedicated to truth and drugs and honesty and also incidentally an unemployed jackass.

And then I stopped reading it for a while, because I couldn't be bothered, but mostly because there are no books for me but those with plot, books with characters who aren't hateful directionless morons, books that go streaking across the night like proper novels because they were written by people with self-control and an editor.

Whither goest thou, Mr. Kerouac, in thy possibly stolen car in the night? On second thought, don't tell me. I could not possibly care less.

Why does archaeology happen in the summer?

Yes, I know, it's the academic year, and how we have the summers off and can therefore go somewhere and gallivant for a month or so with trowels and pickaxes and fedoras and bullwhips.

It's just that the thought process is so mystifying. It appears to have gone something like this: "It's July. It is hot here; it is even hotter on the Mediterranean. I think I should go there and muck about doing manual labor in the sun all day, on the off chance I'll find something interesting in the dirt. Moreover, I think I should get up at stupid o'clock in the morning to do so."

We are a race clever enough to have invented linen clothing, air conditioning, and mint juleps. Explain.

Why is Mrs. Gibson so hateful?

That's Hyacinth Gibson, formerly Kirkpatrick, née Clare. Of Mrs. Gaskell's Wives and Daughters.

You know how you don't really mind Mrs. Bennet, of Pride & Prejudice? Because, while she's awful, at least she's not very good at it, and the girls are fond of her really. She's mercenary and self-involved, but sometimes she puts a foot wrong, and is therefore not able to wreak particularly much havoc. Or at least not much mercenary, self-involved havoc.

Mrs. Gibson, on the other hand, is a successful conniver. And she's evil. She's sort of like Rosamond Lydgate in that way, except she has already run one husband into the ground, and is miserable both to her own child and to her step-daughter. She listens at doors, banks on Osborne Hamley's death (rightly), neglects her daughter enough to put her into severely compromising positions, and is an insufferable snob. While feeling herself constantly put-upon. (Needless to mention, she is as self-centered as a gyroscope and grasping as hell.)

I wish Molly could do the old-fashioned Cinderella act and toss her down a mountain in a barrel.

Why are there "I &hearts NY" shirts for cities other than New York?

They look stupid. Now, the I &hearts NY shirts also look stupid, but they have the advantages of proportion and, I believe, originality.

"I &hearts ROMA" looks asinine. "I &hearts LONDON" more so. Don't do it, people. You look like morons.

Why are they re-making Le dîner de cons?

Le dîner de cons is a rarity in French cinema in that it is funny on purpose. That is: it is funny to people who are not French, and it is funny in a way composed not entirely of Schadenfreude.

However, it is also very French, in conception and in execution. Thierry Lhermitte is probably unique in being able to play a part that is profoundly selfish and actually rather vicious while remaining sympathetic. Probably because he's French. I can say with confidence that Paul Rudd will fail in the attempt. He can play thoughtless, and weak, but he hasn't got the mean streak. And he is not so smooth that I believe he has dinner parties just to mock other people. He lacks panache.

Also, can we stop putting Steve Carell in every movie ever? Especially when he's secretly not very funny? And only has two facial expressions? There is no possible way he will be believably awkward in Dinner for Schmucks. He will be cartoonish and not even cringe-worthy.

This is what subtitles are for, people. Stop with bad and pointless remakes.

Why are children's performers horrifying?

They all seem to wear rejects from a clown's trousseau and sing songs that are alternately patronizing or completely inane. And by "sing songs," I in fact mean "perpetrate unspeakable acts upon a guitar and a microphone."

I think these songs are supposed to be educational. Because they make small children make noise, but only--see, and here's the genius--only in carefully chosen ways. Which is much better than random children noises.

There's also the other option of songs about musical concepts. Such as dynamics. Except this was not so much a song about dynamics as much as slightly rhythmic chanting with intermittent shouting. And it didn't teach anything at all, except that loud and soft exist. Which I think most children already know.

You could teach your child a real song, you know. He might not learn it properly, or understand it, or anything. But at least you won't have filled his brain with garbage.

Why is Philadelphia now even worse at public transportation?

SEPTA used to have catchily titled train lines (R1, R2, R3...you get the point), which were handily color-coded. This made it simple to find the board with your train's status on it, because you'd just look for the green one. If you lived on it, naturally. Otherwise you'd look for a different one. This also worked for your schedule, which was color-coded in the same way.

Now everything is grey-blue and goes by the name of its terminus. Which is fine, until the terminus changes, which it probably will. But the color-coding has gone straight out the window, thus making ease--and importantly speed--of use considerably less.

The best part of this whole thing is that--doubtless--millions of dollars were paid to someone who came up with these bright ideas. Because it's Philadelphia, and if you can't make something worse and get rich doing it, something is terribly wrong.

Also fares have gone up and make less sense. But that's to be expected.

Why did people steal my wheels?

So, I woke up Thursday morning and discovered some lowlifes had stolen all four wheels off my car overnight. Yes, that's right -- the entire wheels and not just the tires. All four of them. The car was left suspended on a couple sections of tree trunk and a cinderblock under the rockers. And I don't even live in a sketchy neighborhood.

Theft itself is completely unacceptable and inconsiderate, but stealing all four wheels off somebody's car? That's downright despicable! I can't have the car towed anywhere (putting it on jacks on a flatbed is probably dangerous), and because it's a newfangled vehicle with a tire pressure monitoring system, I'm not even confident in how to put the new wheels on without damaging them somehow (a quick Googling turned up no useful results).

So, I have to pitifully beg somebody qualified to come out to my apartment and install my wheels. To make it worse, nobody nearby has the wheels I need in stock, so it's going to take much longer to get them in and get my car back. It would have been far better to have stolen just one wheel as I could have used a spare. But, no, these miscreants prove themselves composed of nothing but the most putrid excrement by taking all four wheels. And people wonder why I have a concealed carry permit.

Burn in that special corner of hell, you slimy, thieving, pathetic excuses for human beings. The fact that you left my lug nuts is no consolation.

(Guest post from Joel. I don't have a concealed carry permit. Or maybe I do... -Ed.)

Why are the stairs on Italian trains so steep?

This is a problem compounded by the utter lack of raised platforms. If you have luggage, you must, essentially, give it a desperate heave up onto the train, and then clamber up after it, because the stairs have a depth of about six inches and the risers are perhaps nine or ten inches. Or some other measurements in heathen centimeters. At any rate, they are shallow and steep.

This is fine, if you're young, or not carrying anything. But, since the Italian population appears to be about 76% elderly people who travel alone, we have a problem. They are, as a rule, pretty hale. But the stairs are extreme.

So what we get is that elderly Italians rely heavily on the kindness of strangers. Which, in Italy, is not so safe a bet. If you also want your wallet at the end of the day.

Why is Troy Polamalu so inordinately proud of his hair?

Yes, it is distinctive. Yes, it is impressive, if one uses the word strictly.

Yes, it is gross.

It should stop being the focus of commercials. There's an Under Armour advertisement out now that implies that every young football player wants to be Mr. Polamalu, complete with tattoos and grody hair. Well, false. Plus he ruined the Mean Joe Green Coke commercial for everyone.

And the Head & Shoulders ad? I already thought your hair was disgusting, man. Don't make me picture dandruff.

Why is Philadelphia International Airport the worst?

I waited to get through passport control for over an hour. This is not Eastern Europe, people. There are not supposed to be lines. I am a citizen of the country to which I am returning. You should say "Welcome home" and stamp my passport. That's really all that's necessary.

It is not a surprise that several planes arrived at roughly the same time. I imagine they have been scheduled that way for, oh, I don't know, months. If not years. It is inexcusable that fewer than half of the lanes were open. Seriously, the only difference between this and a third world country (by which, unkindly, I mean Italy) was that there was air conditioning.

Let's not get started on how I apparently look shady to customs and like I'm smuggling in expensive things. You know, in a ratty old cardigan and glasses. How ritzy am I.

Why is Poussin's Annunciation so dippy?

Perhaps Poussin was not aiming for a Gabriel with wings as drifted snow and eyes as flame. We can probably all agree that he should have been, though. Gabriel is not one of the more muscular archangels--there's Michael for that--but he should not look like a goober. He should be less androgynous, less pre-adolescent, and probably less chubby. He puts a lot of miles on those wings.

Now, most Annunciation scenes are a little dippy. The Virgin usually looks slightly concussed, and is often reading from a book, which is patently impossible. Sometimes they both look stupid. Botticelli's Cestello Annunciation may be the best, because Mary looks rather put off and Gabriel looks a tad conciliatory, which seems plausible (also the drawing is good).

But seriously, Gabriel is supposed to be on a mission. Couldn't you give him a chin, Poussin?

Why is clotted cream so bad for you?

And why, since this is the case, must it taste so good?

Why do Italian ATMs dispense 50 euro notes?

This is actually the lead-in to the question:

Why the blankety-blank do Italian ATMs dispense large notes when Italian shops are not prepared to give change for anything larger than a five?

I tried to pay for something that cost €9 with a €20 note. No, they didn't have change. Seriously? This was an actual shop, late in the day. €11 change seems pretty reasonable to expect.

Also, I use the same ATM these people do, presumably. And it presumably dispenses large notes to them, as well, unless all Italians live in fear of carrying more than €40 at a time. Which they might, but I doubt it. So they should understand the large notes.

It's not my fault; don't give me that look. At least I'm trying to buy something from you. Next time I'll keep my money, and you can go out of business.

Why can't people move down inside the carriage?

So, the London Underground. It's actually great, by and large. It gets you there, it runs extremely often, it's clean, etc., etc.

However. The people on it just do not understand that you have to move away from the doorway so that other people can get on the train. If you do not do this, there are awkward queues at the doors and the train operator gets cross. Which is not really fair, because you can't predict that the people in front of you are morons before you get in the queue.

And, no, this does not make it impossible to get off at your stop. Because, you see, if people at the doorway are not packed in an immovable mass, you can pass through them with minimal difficulty.

There is also the added bonus that you are not necessarily smushed directly against ninety-three other people.

Figure it out, London.

Why is the girl in the Chanel lipstick ad such a gap tooth?

I don't know if you've seen this ad--it may not run in your country--but this girl could have a career in Letterman impersonations.

It's Chanel. The ad is for something located in the mouth area. Couldn't they have hired someone who had encountered a competent orthodontist in her adolescence?

Why doesn't Italy understand toilet seats?

They often just don't have them. And, you know, I'd tolerate that, if it were limited to sort of dodgy washrooms on archaeological sites. One doesn't have high expectations.

However. In actual restaurants, I expect--nay, I demand--toilet seats. This is not a high bar. In civilized countries, at least.

Also, Italy, please invest in some toilet paper. I realize it's refreshingly individualist to expect people to carry their own little packets, but it is also gross.

(PS Wahey! I return. And the next couple of weeks will probably be Italocentric, so heads up.)

Why do Italians have insanely bizarre advertisements?

This summer, if you were in Italy, you may have seen advertisements, at bus stops and the like, that consisted of naked people in animal masks. Generally, the advertisements also had the word "amore" on them.

What do you think they were advertising?

If you thought "pet food," well, you're correct, but you should also probably seek help, because that doesn't make any sense at all.

Nowhere do the ads mention pets. I suppose you might know about the brand name. But you might not, and, as "amore" is an actual word in Italian, and may not even be the name of the company (I am not willing to spend more than the four seconds I have already spent trying to find out), pet food is not really a good first guess.

Or at least it shouldn't be. Seriously, Italy, that is weird.