In case you did not see it in evidence all around you we are in the POST-CRISIS.

The Serbian prime minister told AmCham this last week, so it MUST be true. Maybe the post-crisis period started on that morning and I was just too sleepy to notice.

Up until recently, we had only been in the POST-TRANSITION. We would use the word post-transition because it would indicate that there is still a little clutter lying around in the corners from the transition period. In fact, until it is all clear up, we might say that we are actually still in the transition but we have been so many years in transit that post-transition feels better. Maybe this is the pre-post-transition. Likewise the crisis. Pre-post-pre-crisis.

What makes us want to punch each other?

This morning, leaving my home, there was a guy who wanted to take my parking space. But he decided to wait for it in such a way as I could not easily get out of it. I signaled him to move and he inched away - it was enough for me to pass but I had to do six maneuvers to get by without hitting him.

No matter what we do, the next step is always forward.

It is a fact of our linear time-space continuum that the life in the world is a one way street. 2011 cannot be followed by 2010 (nor by 1526 as far as that goes) or anything other than 2012. Tonight we celebrate that passage in our odd and somewhat superfluous tradition marking the passage of time. Even as I write this, we could be celebrating the passage of 11.59 into 12.00...

Let the grumbling begin!

The US election will get underway in several hours as I write this and will surely be done and put to bed by the time you are reading this, but I feel that I have legitimate gripe to make NOW before even I know the outcome of the elections (and before I go around paying out on my bets for John McCain).

I have been, as most of the US and a big chunk of the televisually linked world, keeping up with the presidential campaign through the most readily accessible means available to me: CNN. And each day I switch it on, I have been getting progressively more angry at them.

LONDON. In England, "thank you" means excuse me. But, in case you were worried, "excuse me" also means excuse me - and, consequentially, thank you. Thank you.

In the past week, much like the dehydrated man fresh from the desert, I have been showered with politeness from people whom I do not know. There are altogether too many people smiling. As a traveler in this not-so-strange land, I feel a growing sense of paranoia. There is just something wrong about all this courtesy.

While trying to do a little work, drinking my coffee slowly, Jesus walked by.

Ah! Ok, it's the Easter season after all. Easter being all about resurrection, I was not overly surprised to see him (Him?) walking by the window of the café where I had established myself on this Tuesday morning. In fact he was not walking at all. It was a portrait.

First, you need a very large mixing bowl.

Take a generous helping of random opinions from diplomats around the world. To prepare this, send reasonably competent individuals to each country and marinate them in the local cultures for a few months. Be careful not to let them sit too long in the marinade or the local spices may overpower the flavor.

I have been interested in trying this experiment for several weeks. [Kosovo] The fact is that I would like to write about a number of things this afternoon. I have about 36 topics sitting in the in-tray waiting to bespatter with my curmudgeonly opinions and complaints. [Kosovo]

Of those topics, four are about the traffic on the highways which has become a nightmare IN ANTICIPATION of the much hyped road works. [Kosovo] Seven of the topics relate to government – but how boring is that?  [Kosovo] Our new government has not triggered the much anticipated scandal-mongering spree from our glorious Yellow Press yet, and far be it for me to change the diapers of that particular tar baby. [Kosovo]

Strolling through the walkways of one of our illustrious shopping malls last night, I was bludgeoned on the head.

The instrument used to whack me was a nicely crafted bit of Consumer Nonsense such as often seems to happen to me. The attack was unprovoked (or not very much so) and left me in a bit of a daze for hours after. Let me explain....

Given the proper conditions, I am sure that I could get lost in my own flat.

There are people who are born with an innate sense of orientation. These people always know which way is True North, how to get from here to there without circumnavigating the globe and discovering the West Indies, and do not refer to "right" as the "other left."

What is True North anyway? Is there a Fake North?