BACK AGAIN

Once every four years I think about fencing. No, not the little white pointy boards that run around the perimeter of your yard. Not that kind of fencing. I'm talking about people wearing all this white padding and shit and they have swords and they lunge at each other and after a period of time, usually less than one second, someone gets a point, although you can't see who did it with your naked eye. Whenever I turn on the Olympics, there are the fencers. And after about ten minutes, I am sated with fencing. I have seen enough fencing to last for four more years. And I don't give it another thought. My thoughts turn, instead, to moussaka.