Remember what I said? "If you wait until the last minute, it only takes a minute." I somehow, by the grace of God, and Power of Grayskull, managed to accomplish all my required tasks yesterday. I have, diagnosed, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). I am very methodical and meticulous about certain things, life-or-death work being one of them. Over the years I have learned it's not necessarily important to give one hundred percent to everything. My very first First Sergeant was a great man. He was a former Delta Operator, raging prick, but a great man nonetheless. He would say, "OP. I want eighty-fucking-percent from you each day. Eighty-fucking-percent. However, when I ask for a hundred, you'd better fucking give it to me." I gave "work" eighty-fucking-percent yesterday, and managed to baseball bat the square peg through the round hole at the very last minute. It was a solid B- and a job well done.
During my course of hyper-procrastination, I had a thought provoking comment about parenting. A fellow Fuckery inquired about the "How to Adult" chapter in the Parenting Handbook. The comment took be back in time approximately sixteen years. My wife had just pissed on a magical stick and told me the most unexpected news ever, Janet Jackson had a nipple-slip during the Super Bowl halftime performance, but I had missed it because of a deployment. She also told me she was pregnant. Well fuck my tits sideways, because I was not ready to hear that. Sloppy was going to be a father.
Want to be a surgeon? Go to fucking school. Want to be a lawyer? Go to fucking school. Want to be teacher and cultivate future leaders? Go to fucking school. Want to be a parent? Pull out one fucking second too late and presto, you just hit the nine month "cook" button on vaginal-microwave. Sadly, there is no educational requirement. You don't have to have rich or poor. You can own a home or be homeless. There is absolutely zero prerequisites needed to preform, arguably, the most important and demanding job on earth; fucking parenthood.
Again, I wait to the last minute, but my wife, for some reason, really felt the need to prepare for this thing called "parenthood". She immediately went to Barnes and Noble, got some overpriced fucking latte drink, and scoured the aisles for the best "Mixed Cocktails from Under the Sink: The Parents Guide on how to Not Kill Your Child." The wife was about halfway through the book when I finally picked it up. "Maybe I should at least read chapter one!" I do what I normal do when I purchase a new book, and immediately flip through for pictures. Then I research to the author to see what qualifies him or her their specific field.
My apologies, I forget who the author was, but that's not important. What is important is this particular author had zero fucking crib-midgets or baby-cave convicts. What the fuck? Who the fuck are you to educate in a field you have zero experience with? Imagine the look on the pilots face when we finds me in the cockpit of my next international flight. "No worries friend. I got this shit. I slept at a Holiday Inn last night, and I honestly feel I am more than qualified to turn on the Christmas-light-cockpit and see if this stallion is airworthy."
I was initially pretty pissed off. The audacity of this author! Then "it" came to me. There is no real playbook for this shit. Maybe the real message was to simply "wing-it". I may have the brain of an adolescent retard, but I am, by all means, an actual adult. I can now look back at multiple moments in my life with the realization that my parents had no fucking clue. They were just winging-it. However, I severely overestimated my ability to parent when we baked Cake. I thought parenting was a wash, rinse, and repeat process. I thought I was now qualified because Kelly was still alive. Cake said, "Fuck you rules" though.
What you have read thus far is nothing more than a rant. Just a genuine bitch-session. I figure I should detail some life lessons I have learned because of Cake, the kid that occasionally makes me want to watching his feet kicking back-and-forth in a fit, but only because I have his head six inches deep in toilet water. My youngest boy (Head Shaking!), fucking Cake.
Shit Missiles
Cake had superpowers that Kelly never attained. We were initially unaware he was genetically-flawed and had "mild" soy and dairy allergies. The doctor said "mild". Well, that guy was a fucking liar. I don't call using four wet wipes to clean projectile shit from his neck "mild." I would argue for a "severe" diagnoses at the very least. That kid shit could out-shit dysentery.
Cake Brain: Poop before or after dad changes my diaper?
Cake's Asshole: During!
Cute Moments
For the most part, all the bad moments can be erased with one moment of cuteness. I could literally be five minutes out from utilizing the Safe Haven Law, and then Cake would do or say something that made me love him again. You read correct!
Cake (4YO): Can I cuss?
OP: What?
Cake: I want to cuss.
Wife: Cake. Do you know what cussing is?
Cake: Yes, but I want to say one word.
OP Brain: Fuck it. I will give you one opportunity, but please don't let me down or fuck this up.
OP: What's the F-word Cake?
The cute part; Cake literally started looking left and right, as if he was ensuring he wouldn't get in trouble. Then he softly whispered...
Cake: BIIITTTTCCCCCHHHHHH.
You done did messed up A-A-Ron. He was four though. I suppose I should celebrate that as a victory!?! For the un-parents out there, please always be cognizant that your crotch goblins are very observant creatures. They quickly pick up, and emulate your piss poor habits.
I had just been cut-off in traffic. I had the right-of-way, but Susie-fucking-snowbird and her Q-Tip colored hair decided it was okay for her to disregard the octagon-shaped sign that states, "Bitch. Wait your turn." I muffled a shallow "Fuck You," but then noticed her look of absolute disgust as she passed by my car. Then I see, Cake, flipping her "the bird" from my side-view mirror. Sweet! Cake can count to one.
Then you have the moments that start cute, and go south. I have my nightly introvert-routine. I want to watch the national news, and then test my knowledge while watching Jeopardy afterwards. It is my much needed hour to decompress each night. My leave me the fuck alone time. A very chunky Cake rolled up to the couch, baby blanket in one hand and an unopened bag of Puff Cheetos in the other. He needed help murdering the bag open. I opened it, but he decided to plop down next to me as opposed to finger-painting the white curtains Cheetos orange with his little dick-beaters. He wanted to share.
I don't particularly like puffed Cheetos, but fuck it. It was an olive-branch from a terrorist. I obliged. I was five minutes into Jeopardy and I reached my hand into the bag, but something was off. It was plain-fucking-gross. I pull out a gooey, disgusting, wet fucking Cheeto. I initially thought there was something wrong with the packaging, but then I turn to see Cake, giving each puffed morsel a toddler blowjob. He sucked off every bit of flavoring, and then shoved the wet mess back in the back. I had just found his discards.
OP: Cake. They are not pistachios. You can eat the entire thing.
Cake: (Shoulder Shrug): I only like the cheese dad!
You Got Fucking Jokes
Cake was a huge fan of jokes, particularly knock-knock jokes. I don't know if he picked this up at daycare, or kindergarten. I know he didn't get it from grandpa, because he would be using the official F-word a bunch. I, as you man know, am a huge fan of humor. I love it. Humor gets me through the day, but I despise a poorly told joke, and I hold everyone to high standards. It was extremely frustrating to endure twenty jokes in a car ride home that all sucked.
Cake: Dad. Knock-Knock.
OP: Who is there?
Cake: Carrot.
OP: Carrot who?
Cake: (Hysterically laughing) I got you!
Imagine twenty jokes exactly like that, while your toddler-terrorist maniacally laughs. This particular day was long. I just wanted to rest when I got home. I merely wanted five minutes to myself before the chaos started. I had just endured 20 minutes of piss-poor comedy, but Cake was not done. He had, "one more joke dad."
Cake: Knock-Knock.
OP: Who is there?
Cake: Smell Mop
OP: Smell Mop Who?
Cake is now rolling on the floor. Kelly is rolling on the floor. Lola may have been worried about being attacked with a scissors, but even she was wondering what the hell was going on. What the fuck was I missing? Why was this specific knock-knock joke funny to Kelly? What the actual fuck?
OP: Smell Mop Who? Smell Mop Who?
The kids are still rolling, the dog is barking, and I just start saying it faster.
OP: Smell Mop Who?
Then Cake, in Cake fashion, lets out a thunderous fart with superb ass-acoustics. Just a sweet smell bum-rumble!
Cake: Dad. Smell My Poo!
OP: Smell Mop Who....SMELL MY POO!!!
I had just been out-potaoed, by the potato. Outwitted by a fucking four year old. Read whatever the hell you want Reader. Please be sure to let me know when you read a book that prepares you for that shit there. Smell my poo!
Cake is 11 now, and is currently in that transition phase of life. The phase where you go from optional deodorant to "Deodorant. NOW. EVERYDAY". He arrived home from soccer practice drenched in sweat last night. Sweating like a whore in Church with a disheveled look on his face.
Cake: Dad. Do I have to take a shower?
OP: Yes. It's not optional nor negotiable. Feet. Balls. Ass. NOW!
Cake: Can I take a bath?
OP: I don't care so long as water and soap hits your...
Cake: Feet, balls and...
OP: BUTT
Cake: Do you take baths?
OP: Not really.
Cake: Why?
OP: Because when I am really dirty, the bath water gets really dirty, and it don't feel as clean as I do when I take a shower.
Cake: Are showers better?
OP: For you they are.
Cake: Cause I get cleaner?
OP: No. Because I don't have to worry about your drowning in five inches of water.
Cake: (Huge Grin, and I was laughing) Bet you I could drown in a shower!
OP: I bet you could buddy!
Lastly, I remember something else during my rant response to the thought provoking Redditor. Punishment. Feel free to call me a bad parent, but I have adopted a technique that I use to extract confessions. It is pretty low-level shit, and there is no need to waterboard, yet. This specific technique is not mine, and I learned it during my torturous time at Confraternity of Christian Doctrine (CCD). My God! Those nuns hated me and I hated them, but I learned this:
OP: Cake. Have a seat.
Cake: What?
OP: (Calm. Be Calm) What did you do wrong?
Cake: Ummm.
OP: You're sitting this chair for a reason, and I am disappointed in you.
Cake: I spent $20 dollars on V-Bucks (FAKE FUCKING MONEY) and didn't ask.
OP: No XBox for a week.
This is not the preferred technique and you MUST space it out. Parents don't have time to parent 24/7. Impossible. However, the rabbit jackals that live upstairs MUST believe you are capable of this. It's a lie, but they are necessary lies. But OP, you lie to your kids? But Reader, do you still think Santa Claus is real, or are you fucking Santa Claus? I am getting sick and tired of trying to create elaborate scenes for Elf on a Shelf too. Did I ruin it, or did you think he constructed that beautiful parachute and got stuck on the ceiling fan when he jump from a plane you didn't hear, in the middle of the night, that flew through our fucking house? Yeah. I lie.
Fellow Fuckery Readers. Thanks for rant-riding. I know it wasn't funny, but I just had to procrastinate about work. I needed a ten minute rant and no editing. Good news though. I have 26 full-blown stories on deck; I wrote unforgettable titles to I remember to detail the events for you. There are two Hawks, numerous Gunfighter Dads, and the introduction of many new characters to include OP. I will save off on mine, because I want you to "think less of me" sometime next year.
Be Rona free, Safe, and Cheers!

I think that I found my ideal betting strategy

Achievement Tip Masterpost

LONGEVITY
Complete a Life Complete a full life
All you have to do for this one is die. You probably have it by now, but if you're super attached to your first Bitizen, you can always save your Bitlife and play somebody else wastefully or hold out until they pass.
Octogenarian See your 80th birthday Nonagenarian 90th birthday Centenarian 100th birthday Super-centarian 110th birthday Mega-centarian 120th birthday
Get on a healthy diet and garden and meditate twice a year. I like Nutrisystem. It's expensive, but I have advice for managing that below...
Strong Genes Achieve a 500-year generation Long Lineage 1000-year generation Living Legacy 5000-year generation
Never don't have kids. I like leaving everything to the youngest child and playing as them, but that won't make your kids happy with you or your heir. Your call. Either way, it helps to have a couple Bitlifes going in case you get tired of living carefully. Sometimes you're gonna want to be more reckless, you know?
WEALTH
Millionaire Become a millionaire My Second Million Achieve a net worth of $2m
Now that we have Royalty and Sports, this is a lot easier. Traditionally, if you're hot (95%+), drop out of high school and get your GED ($1k, you can do that in a couple years of dog walking/freelance gigs) and wait for a singer or actor career. If not, work hard in school and go to the gym often. Check your parents' stats and if they're generous make sure you pass your drivers test (maybe even ask if you can get a nicer one! immediately sell your car, they lose value fast) and take a martial art. It's much cheaper if they pay for it ($1K per tier in some countries) and gets you in good shape. If you're athletic, grind at a sport from middle school onwards. If you're not, try some athletic-adjacent clubs and go to the gym and for walks often. Pets count as additional walks which you can take from age 8+. When you're in good shape you can get a soccer scholarship (which can become a/)or a professional sports contract. More sports tips below, same with other careers. Basically try to get famous, not through politics. Or be hot and marry rich/have rich parents who die/be royal.
Multimillionaire Achieve a net worth of $10m Rich Net worth of $20m Super Rich Net worth of $50m Stinking Rich Net worth of $100m
Get a couple million first, then invest it in real estate. Or do ads if you're famous and it won't ruin your career. Helps to be big on social media for influence on that stuff. Fix up 1M+ houses and flip them when they've hit a value of 2 or 3 million. If you've got great karma or you're a religious figure of some kind, exorcise some mansions. You can do it all that way, or keep grinding careers.
Bitionaire Achieve a net worth of $1b
It's hard to get here from 0. Helps to leave everything to your youngest kid before you die after living a long, fruitful life. You can let your kid "take over" your assets at any time without tax now, that's the best way to do it. Then as soon as they're 18 make them famous/invest in real estate and repeat.
CAREER
Actor Become an actor
Be hot. You can drop out at 16 and get your GED for $1k (ask your parents for money or do freelance gigs for a couple of years). If you're not, go to the gym and for walks often. Pets count as additional walks which you can take from age 8+. Grind at a sport in school if you can to keep your health well and get plastic surgery at 18. Generally if your appearance stats are low it's either a nose job or liposuction that will fix it. Always go to the best plastic surgeon. Marry rich if you have to or work for a couple years if you have to, but start the career as soon as you can. Always work 5 more hours a week than required and compliment your supervisor if their coolness is high. Sleep with people in Hollywood (bosses coworkers etc). Your spouse/parent will generally be mad if you're in rude magazines, so hold off on dating unless they're cool or make them deal with it.
Airplane Pilot Become an airline captain
Grind in school and keep your mental health well. No drugs but drink if you feel like it, just make sure you can go to AA or whatever. Always work 5 more hours a week than required and compliment your supervisor if their coolness is high. If you're rich and you've inherited an airplane or you can afford lessons, take them. Go to University for a science thing that isn't biology lol. Start your Pilot Apprentice job.
At Inner Peace Work 75 years as a monk
Follow my longevity tips above and don't party or drink or do drugs. Always be honest. Meditate. Don't date.
Candywriter Work for Bitlife
Be born in Tampa, United States. Go to university for Information Systems. You'll get the achievement right away when you're hired.
CEO Become a CEO
Go to school for Finance. Get a job. Work hard every year.
Dentist Become a dentist
Go to university for biology, then dental school. Work hard every year.
Doctor Become a doctor
Go to university for biology, then medical school. Work hard every year.
Fire Chief Become a fire chief
Stay in good shape. Work hard every year.
Jack Of All Trades Have 10 careers in one life
Work at retail and food service jobs for less than a year, then go to university to get even more opportunities. Keep going for different paths.
Judge Become a judge Lawyer Become a lawyer
Go to school for english. Go to law school. Work hard every year.
Last Resort Seduce your boss to save your job
Be hot. Work fewer hours than required at your job. Make sure your supervisor is attracted to your gender and low professionalism. When your boss tries to fire you, seduce them.
People Person
Start with your less popular coworkers and work your way up. Pay attention to their stats so you know what they want. Get hard-to-get people with Bitlife Bitizenships ($5).
Combat
Armed & Dangerous Kill someone with a learned martial art move
Get to the top level of a martial art, (especially in prison) pick someone old to attack. Start a fight with them.
Midieval Attack Get attacked with a midieval weapon
Kinda chance. Just keep picking fights. You can get into a lot of fights if you're rude at nightclubs or to people on the street. Sometimes if you attack your loved ones or enemies with a weapon they'll kill you with a sword or something.
No Grasshopper Earn the top belt in a martial art
Each martial art has 10 tiers. They can cost $1k+ if you're an adult so if you've got generous parents take advantage.
Sensei San Earn the top belt in every martial art
Have health above 50% when you take a martial arts lesson. Follow above tips. Parents will probably only pay for one set of lessons, so pay for the other arts yourself as an adult. At $10k per martial art, it will probably cost you $40k-$50k.
Disease
Addicted Sustain 3 addictions at once
Play Blackjack or go to the horse races often with mid-tier mental health. Get addicted to pills or some other hard non-psychedelic drugs. Start drinking last b/c it'll kill your health. Try not to let your Bitizen get depressed or you might die, lol. All addiction is dangerous so it may take a few tries.
Bubonic Plague Contract the bubonic plague
Have low health and luck out. I got it in the UK.
Foam at the Mouth Contract rabies
Try to take home every wild animal you see. One might bite you. If you succeed, take it to the vet. If it doesn't have rabies, release it. If it does, don't treat it! Take it home and bathe it until it bites you.
Sickly Contract 10 diseases in one life
Best if you're not vaccinated, but just have mid-tier health and be really social. All afflictions count.
Successful Rehab Have rehab cured at a rehab center
Go to fancy rehab if you can afford it. Do it from your military deployment to go AWOL.
Witchcraft Get cured of a disease by the witch doctor
Eye of newt and cow tongue are iffy. Always start with health at 100. They've fixed cancer and sickle cell for me.
Entertainment
BitBoi Watch Bijuu Mike on YouTube BTS ARMY Go to a BTS concert
Keep asking friends to watch YouTube/go to concerts every year until you get those options.
Movie Junkie Go to 5 movies in one life Moviegoer Go to a movie
Go to the movies every year. It's good for your relationship if you go with somebody.
Fame
Brightest Star Achieve maximum fame
Actor, model, writer, athlete career path. Keep doing every bonus thing (talk shows, books, pose nude, commercials) and verify on social media.
Centerfold Pose for Wank magazine
Agree to pose nude every time until you get it. I think this one has women mostly but I can't remember.
Endorser Get paid $2m for a commercial
Easy if you're a high paid actor or model doing an international commercial.
K-Pop Become a famous Korean singer
See my wealth advice. Follow it with the "background singer" career and start in Korea.
Fertility
DNA Donor Make 25 sperm donations in one life
This one is hard b/c you can only do it once a year and only until a certain age. So start at 18 and don't stop. I think you have to be American. Maybe UK and Canada too? Not legal everywhere. Try not to miss a year.
Fabulously Fertile Have 10 children in one life Fertile Myrtle Mother 25 children in one life
Meditate every year. Start at 18. You have to be cis. Eat healthy and exercise. Get boyfriends and have unprotected sex with them so you don't get STDs. You can be a mother up until like 51 if you're healthy and lucky. Keep having sex until you get pregnant.
Smart Seed Get artificially inseminated with lawyer sperm
Start at 18. You have to be cis. Be fertile (tips above). Keep pulling up the option to get artificially inseminated until a lawyer comes up. Don't listen to your partner if they don't want you to do it LOL.
Super Sperm Have 100 children in one life
Be a cis dude. Meditate. Be handsome. Have a million girlfriends. Use the dating app to keep dating young women. Don't abandon any kids but leave girlfriends as soon as they're pregnant. Hire every surrogate that will take you if it's legal. Sue them for the max ($200k) if they bail (not miscarry).
Three's Company Have triplets
Sometimes this happens if you're a dude with luck or while you're doing Super Sperm. Sometimes if you're a woman it's luck too or when you do IVF with your partner's sperm or other artificial insemination.
Military
Career Military Serve your full career in the military
Tips for staying alive below. Retire as soon as you can.
General Achieve the rank of general in the military
Be a good Army person. Grind at work like 5x a year. Keep in shape. Be nice to your seargeant.
Admiral Reach the rank of admiral in the military
Be a good Navy person. Grind at work like 5x a year. Keep in shape. Be nice to your seargeant.
Absent Without Leave Go AWOL in the military
Be deployed with an addiction and check into rehab. Whoops.
Excavator Clear 10 minefields
Be deployed, and use a minesweeper solver to not die if you suck at minesweeper.
Pet
Adopt Don't Shop Rescue every pet in the shelter
You gotta have a few houses. Then you're good. You gotta do it all in one year so have like a lot of houses. Like 5 at least. Tips for getting rich above.
Horsing Around Own 50 horses in one life
You gotta have a bunch of ranches. Buy a few horses a year. Tips for getting rich above.
Just Keep Swimming Buy a goldfish and release it.
You can do this one as a kid too if your parent gets you a goldfish.
Natural Selection Rescue every pet in the shelter
This one took forever. Just keep buying dangerous exotic pets and rescuing every dangerous animal you see. It's luck.
No Probllama Buy a Llama
Buy a ranch in Afghanistan. Go pet shopping.
Prison
Aftermath Escape prison in a riot Instigator Prison riot
Get good at Snake. Keep rioting. Works best in low security. Takes a couple tries, kind of luck.
Behind Bars Spend 50 years in prison True Lifer 75 years in prison
Do a murder in a country without the death penalty (Canada). Murder with full health at 18. Get a prison job. Meditate and work out every year. Keep your head down. Try half-heartedly to escape every once in a while so you don't accidentally get parole or something. But if you get out you can always go back. Rob a bank or something. But keep your health and behaviour up in case you get sick and need to go to the infirmary.
Gangsta Join a prison gang
Go to a medium or higher security prison.
Inmating Get a lover pregnant on a conjugal visit
Be a cis man with high fertility. Have a good relationship (80%+) with an 18 year old cis woman. Make sure she isn't on birth control. Do a small crime, get a prison job, and meditate. Request a conjugal visit.
Justice Get freed from prison by appeal
Be rich. Wait a couple years after you're sentenced for something non-violent.
Mercy Me Get granted clemency
Be a nun or a monk for 50+ years. Don't retire. Do a murder. Get a prison job. Meditate, work out, go to the library, and write letters to home. You won't know until the year you're scheduled to die, so hold on.
Midnight Express Get sentenced to Turkish prison
Be born in Turkey. Do a crime.
Theseus Escape a supermax prison
There are a ton of Bitlife prison guides. Do a murder and escape from death row.
Royalty
Executioner Execute 5 people
Be king. Or queen. Top dog, either way. It helps to have enemies or friends to make enemies.
Markle Marry into the royal family
Be a commoner in a country with royals. Be cute. Go on lots of dates. It'll pop up and be part of their name. They could be a viscount or whatever, no member of the royal family is too far removed.
Monarch Become a monarch
Start as prince or princess and inherit the throne.
Napoleon Get exiled to a distant land
Keep executing people. And do a bunch of disservice.
Reign Over Us Reign as monarch for 100 years
In a country where Prince/Princess is top monarch or where your king/queen parents are low health/dying, keep your health up until you're a super-centarian (see above).
Sports
Canton Get inducted into the football hall of fame
Be a great football player. Be famous. Play as long as you can. Keep being famous after football as long as you can. I stopped being famous at 40 and got inducted at 60.
Christiano Win the Ballon d'Or
Be a European soccer player. Keep winning championships (see below).
Full Ride Win an athletic scholarship
Start playing sports in middle school. Become captain of at least one team with a pro league.
Giggsy Win 13 career championships
You can train each stat up twice in a turn if you trade teams, but you'll lose respect, so pick your moments. Grind your whole life. Keep going to the gym. Trade teams when you guys start losing. Stay on top.
Hooker Yell at a leopard
Try out for professional rugby with high athletic stats. Choose Hooker as your position.
Lance Win a championship while doping
It's safest to dope the year after a drug test. Try it for your second or third championship.
Real Estate
House Hunter Make $2m from flipping a house
Buy a $2m house. Leave it to your kid. Sell it. See above.
Mansion Party Throw a party in a mansion Real Estate Mogul Purchase real estate worth $10m combined Trailer Party Party in a trailer
Pretty straight forward. If you're broke start with the trailer party. Then buy mansions. Advice for getting rich above.
School
Brothers Forever Get hired by a frat brother
Be a jock. See sports advice above. When you're in two sports at university, compliment the jocks' leader. Be good looking (plastic surgery if needed, see above) and google the answer to the question if you need it. Google high-level frats and pick one. Then when you get hired after school one of them might hire you!
Earning that A Seduce your teacher
Be really attractive and compliment your teachers who are attracted to people of your gender. Take the opportunity to sleep with them if it arises.
Naughty Child Get expelled from school
Be rude as hell to the principal/headmastedean
Swimming Star
Start swimming as young as you can and stay in shape. "Work harder" every year.
Social Media
Social Media Join social media Social Media Sharer Post Social Media Oversharer Post 5 times Social Media Star Get a million followers Check! Get verified
Join all social media platforms at 13. Be pretty and keep posting. Follow above advice to get famous in any public career to get more followers. Start with Instagram for verification around 100k. By the time you're a lead actosupermodel/etc you'll have 1m followers.
Vehicle
Antiqued Keep a car running for 200 years.
Buy a brand new car. Do maintenance twice a year. Pass it on to your kid (18+) and repeat.
Car collector Assemble a car collection worth $1m Lambo Buy a Lamborghini
Buy a lambo and a bunch of other fancy cars. Who cares. See advice above for money.
Not The Yellow One Buy a submarine
You need $5b for this to show up reliably.
Titanic Trouble Run into trouble on a yacht
Have a shitty yacht or shitty luck. Go for a bunch of rides.
Animal
Animal Rescue Rescue an animal
Helps to have 100% smarts. Read childrens books so you don't have to tap too many pages. It'll only take two or three.
Deaf Leapord Yell at a leopard
Buy a leopard from the exotic animals dealer and yell at it when it misbehaves.
Gorilla and the Fist Get decapitated by a gorilla
I had to buy so many gorillas from the exotic animals dealer to get one crazy enough to decapitate me. Just keep bathing it and letting it attack you every year until it kills you.
Unicorn Find a unicorn
Go for like 10 walks a year. Have good karma.
Hungry Hippo !!! NEEDED !!!
Apparently Egypt is good for this.
Lion Tamer !!! NEEDED !!!
Apparently Kenya is good for this.
Crime
Balcony Buccaneer Steal 100 packages in one life
It's a lot easier to avoid punishment by wielding your title if you're a monarch. This one took me ages as a civiliian.
Burglar Burgle 25 homes in one life
Play Snake well
Cold Killer Kill 10 people in one life Serial Killer Kill 25 people
Start with random homeless people. If you're a royal exert your title to avoid punishment. Keep buying your way out of prison as long as you can. Then start killing other prisoners, start with the oldest and work your way down to the strongest ones. Work out and meditate every year. Pay guards for protection if you can but you probably won't be fucked with if you keep strong and murderous.
Dillinger Rob 5 banks in one life
If you're royal you'll get away with it. Make sure you have a getaway car either way. Clown mask/closest equivalent and handgun/closest equivalent work best.
Scare to Death Scare someone to death
Do a murder but pick scare to death. Works best if they're old.
Bugatti Bandit !!! NEEDED !!!
Going Anywhere !!! NEEDED !!!
LOVE
Black Widow Widow 5 husbands in one life
Start using the dating app when you're 18 and go for old guys. Best if they don't have kids and if they're rich. Propose after you fuck when your relationship is at 100%. I like to be on birth control for this.
Golden Anniversary Be in a marriage for 50 years Diamond Anniversary Marriage for 75 years
Keep seeing movies together and fucking and complimenting each other. Cute as hell. Just marry young and try to both stay alive.
Fake It Propose successfully with a fake ring
Works best if you're rich and they love you and they're dumb.
Family Planner Convince a lover to go off birth control
Be a cis man. Be in a strong relationship with a cis woman. Ask her to go off birth control. Easiest if you're married to her.
Maiden Named Marry a man who takes your last name
Marry a man and don't change your last name. Kind of a luck thing. Make sure your relationship is strong.
Multigamist Get married 10 times in one life
Pre-nups and widowing make this easier but do you. Love them and leave them. If you're a young guy it's really easy to get older women to agree to marry you.
Stud Have 100 lovers in a single life
Hook up like crazy. Date all you can and fuck all of them. Use protection so you can stay alive.
Wedding Planner Agree to an arranged marriage
I did this in India as a woman with wealthy, religious parents.
Bejeweled !!! NEEDED !!!
General
All Along Have a parent who comes out of the closet
Could be luck. Or you can cheat it with a Bitizenship by making both parents gay and unreligious.
Begone Exorcise your own ghost
Be an exorcist. Buy a haunted house. Do what you do best.
Booty Call Have a successful Brazillian butt lift
Be healthy and have good karma. Use the best doctor. Cross your fingers. They still only work 1/3 of the time.
Cliff Diver Go cliff diving Hero Save someone's life Player Perks Accept a casino's hospitality offer Snake Snack Eat a snake ZAP! Get struck by lightning
Random event
Dignified Donor Donate a 1m+ heirloom to charity
Get your heirloom every day. Appraise it. Donate the first $1m+ one you get.
Flamin' Hot Survive 60 years on a Hot Cheetos diet
Get liposuction every couple of years and work out and walk a lot. Have no other conditions. Do your best. Get pets for more walks. Garden. Try to survive. Start at 18.
Flee the Country Emigrate to escape justice
Escape prison and emigrate
Frankenstein Survive 5 botched plastic surgeries
Keep going to the bad doctor. Go for risky procedures like butt lifts. Space them out to get your health back up.
Goat Grabber Join a goat grabbing team
Be athletic and join a goat grabbing team at school in Afghanistan
Human Dictionary Read the dictionary
So much tapping. But eventually it will show up in your books. Be strong.
Hyperthymesia Score 20 sequences on the memory test
The worst part of Bitlife. I did this one by writing 1,2,3 or 4 on a piece of paper according to which # square lit up with my right hand and doing the puzzle on my phone with my left hand. Still took like 5 tries and was really frustrating. Take breaks and come back with a clear head.
Jackpot Win the lottery jackpot
Keep your karma high and buy 10 tickets 5 times a year. You'll get it eventually.
Lowroller Get refused entry to a casino
Bet more money than you have on Blackjack. Once you're out of prison, try to come back. They'll turn you away.
Nightmare Wake up from a nightmare
As a pilot, buy a terrible plane. When it crashes, accept your doom. You might wake up.
Paranightmare Contract PTSD after a paranormal experience
Try to have bad mental and good physical health (a hard balance. Try gardening, dieting, and fighting with friends or loved ones) and then try to exorcise stubborn ghosts.
Perfection Achieve perfect stats
Pretty easy. Work out, get plastic surgery (lipo or nose job to start) and go for walks, read children's books (3 should get you to 100%) and go to the movies or on vacation.
Rich Justice Win a $1m+ lawsuit
Get fired from a really high paying job like CEO and win your lawsuit.
Run Bitizen! Win a bet on Bitizen There's Always Canada Emigrate to Canada Winnipeg, Eh? Visit Winnipeg
Wait until it pops up as an option
Say Goodbye To Hollywood Get deported from the United States
Move to the U.S. without permission. Get caught doing a minor crime.
Skeezy Get called "skeezy"
Be an asshole at nightclubs and in the streets. Fight with your friends and coworkers, insult them and start rumours.
Sweepstakes Win the sweepstakes
Set it up on a day where you'll be by your phone. Sign up every time you can.
Try & Stop Me Violate a restraining order
Stalk your ex. Do it again after they file a restraining order.
Ultimate Betrayal Your spouse leaves you following a gender reassignment
Have a terrible relationship with your heterosexual spouse. Get gender reassignment surgery.
Unethical Bribe a college official
Be rich and have dumb kids.
Roswell !!! NEEDED !!!
Sacrilege !!! NEEDED !!!

I think we just became part of a new ecosystem (final)

First half of my experiences posted here.
Okay guys, before I go on, I just want to say that we’re getting to the really goddam weird part. I don’t know if they’re telling you something different on Twitter or the radio or whatever, but trust me, what I’m about to tell you is what I personally saw happening in my city. And call it a hunch, but I’m pretty damn sure it’s bigger than just here. So I need you to take a breath, try and keep an open mind, and bear with me. This is gonna be a hard one to believe, but truly fucked up shit always is.
When Cam and I exited the service hallway onto the roof, we were immediately immersed in the dark cloud I’d seen out the lobby window earlier. The sun had only just started to come up and the light was barely diffused through the haze. I could see maybe four or five feet ahead of myself but I’d been up there enough with contractors to know vaguely where the generator was. First, though, I wanted to check the ledges to see if those two creeps were already preparing to do a swan dive.
Making our way through the fog towards the nearest ledge, we found Twitchy first. There’s a bit of thick, pipe-like railing, about a foot in diameter, that runs the whole perimeter of the roof, about two feet inward from the edge of the building itself. It’s not very tall; maybe three-ish feet; just tall enough so someone not paying attention would bump into it before walking off. As we approached the edge of the building through the fog, I could see that Twitchy had climbed up onto the top of the railing and was clinging to it like a child hugging the thick branch of a tree. Her arms and legs were completely wrapped around the rail and she was squeezing the ever-loving shit out of the thing as though holding on for dear life. I felt a little hit of panic release into me at the sight; after everything else today, seeing this portly, middle-aged, jacked-up soccer mom desperately clinging to a rail like a cat stuck in a tree freaked me the hell out.
“You doing alright, lady?” I asked cautiously as we approached. I wasn’t really expecting anything good at this point, but there was a desperate part of me still holding out hope that maybe she was just a run-of-the-mill crazy person. Her face was turned away from me with her cheek pressed tightly against the rail; it was like she was trying to seal every inch of her body to its surface. Looking down at her, I could see that she’d scratched the back of her neck into a bloody mess. I stared in disgust for a moment and then, briefly, thought I saw something within the wound move. My jaw dropped in disbelief under my mask and then I heard Cam scream, scaring the shit out of me.
I whirled around in a panic and spotted her a few feet away. “What is it?!” I ordered urgently, scanning for Antony and his letter opener to appear out of the fog like Freddy Krueger.
“There’s… in the fog!” she croaked, pointing upwards into the haze of sky. I traced the direction of her point and narrowed my eyes, straining to see whatever it was she’d spotted in the dark cloud around us. After a few moments of fruitless investigation, I turned to Cam.
“I’m not seeing anything, what was it?” I asked, my muscles tense.
“I… I don’t know,” she stammered. “I thought it was just a shadow or something in the fog but then… I… thought I saw an eye looking at me.” She looked at me fearfully, bewilderment in her face.
“Well… that’s fuckin spooky.” I stared back up into the fog for another few seconds, not knowing what I was looking for. I was sure she saw something but wasn’t exactly sure if this was actually another threat or just one more thing to add to the “weird shit that happened today” list.
I turned back to Cam and tried to put on a reassuring voice. “Okay, fuck this- let’s check out that generator real quick and then get the hell out of here. We can hang out in my office until the police show up and let them sort this weirdness out.”
Cam looked at me with urgent concern in her eyes but nodded her approval. I oriented myself towards the direction of the generator and started cautiously picking my steps through the mist.
It took us a minute or two to make our way to the generator because I was trying to stay vigilant against coming too close to a ledge or running into our mail boy again. Cam walked beside me, waving her pepper spray around in front of her like a priest walking through a brothel with a cross. When we made it to the generator itself, which is housed in a big metal casing bolted to the roof, I saw we’d been beaten to the punch. Antony was already there and had climbed on top of the thing. He was about six feet up from us so I couldn’t see him perfectly, but was down on his knees and elbows as though in prayer, hands clenched onto the roof of the casing.
“Whatcha doing up there, bud?” I yelled up into the mist.
No reply.
I sighed and glanced at Cam, who was looking up into the indiscernible sky.
“Okay, I gotta unlock this maintenance panel and take a look at the control unit for a readout on this generator. If it comes up with an error, I can reset it and then we are outta here,” I told her, trying to remind myself the process more than anything. She didn’t reply so I took another cautious look up at Antony. His body was twitching but he remained on all fours, frozen in place.
“Fuck it,” I muttered under my breath, and got down to be eye-level with the door to the control unit. I’d just gotten it open and had started to run the diagnostics execution when I was interrupted by another scream from Cam.
“MR. WALLACE- it’s Antony!”
I sprang up from my knees and backed up a pace or two, braced to take a letter opener in the chest.
“What’s up with Ant-OH MY GOD!” I screamed, as I focused on the mail boy in the mist.
Antony had gone rigid and something had split out the back of his neck. A dark red tendril, about the width and length of a beer bottle, was stretching upwards from the base of his skull like an antenna. Rounded, golf ball-sized orange growths pulsated on its sides. The tip of the tendril was swaying gently, as though searching the air around it. As I stared I could tell it was still growing; slowly inching its way further and further out the back of his neck.
I hadn’t processed the horror unfolding atop the generator when I heard the cry. At least I think it was a cry. It was a sound my brain didn’t have the equipment to comprehend; something that felt more like a sound than perhaps was a sound itself. The first place I heard it was inside my head; a thundering, horrible screech that started in the center of my mind before rippling outwards, overwhelming all my senses at once. My vision flashed patterns of white and I felt like I was about to pass out and throw up at the same time. The cry echoed up, through, and out of me, leaving a pitchy ringing in my ears and my body tingling. My vision refocused just in time for me to see something drop out of the fog.
I’m not gonna pretend I got the best look at this thing. It was still foggy and early-morning-dark out, and it came and went fast- the whole scene was over in maybe one “Mississippi.” But it was a massive, flying creature, at least twenty feet long, shaped like a manta ray. It kind of flew like a manta ray, too; the fleshy sides of its flat, disc-like body rippled forcefully around it, sending gusts of air that whirled the fog and knocked Cam and I off our footing. It was fleshy and pure white, with pronounced, dull-orange veins criss-crossing over its body. On its underside were two bird-like arms covered in tightened cords of tendon that ended in a pair of outstretched, three-toed talons. A single, horrible, plate-sized eye stared downwards from the underside of its body, glowing yellow in the fog like a distant lighthouse. The creature dive-bombed down from the clouds, caught Antony’s torso in its white talons, and ripped him from the top of the generator and into the fog, like an owl snatching a mouse from a field. A single arm, so tight-gripped as Antony’s fist was to the top of the generator, ripped from his body at the shoulder with a horrible snap as the creature shot upwards again, remaining fixed to the top of the box. At the moment of the rip, droplets of blood sprayed outwards, hitting my face and chest.
It took my brain a moment to catch up with everything I had just experienced. But as soon as it had, I turned on my heel to Cam. She must have thrown up when the creature first cried out because the back of her hand was frozen in mid-wipe on her face; her mask scrunched up in her fist. Antony’s blood was misted across her face. Our eyes locked in mutual recognition that what just happened really just happened before I broke the pause with “let’s get the fuck out of here.” She gave me a single “mhm” of urgent agreement.
At this point the only thing I wanted in the world was to be off that roof. I was alternating between jogging and power-walking to get back to the access door, dodging steam vents and electrical boxes in the dark mist. For a second I thought I saw a helicopter-sized shadow pass through the fog above me, but otherwise we made it to the door without disturbance. Soon we were clanging our way back down the staircase in the service hallway and back into the law firm. We’d taken two steps past the door when I saw figures in the darkness, shuffling towards us down the hall.
They were coming from the direction of the lobby; silhouettes in the dim light moving in the same awkward, jerky manner Twitchy and Antony had. There was maybe four of them making their way towards us, some scratching behind their necks as they hobbled in our direction.
I was internally debating between standing perfectly still like a possum or finding out if I was ever cut out to be a linebacker when Cam grabbed my arm and pulled me off to the side.
“We can use the back door,” she hissed, pulling a key card on a lanyard out of her blazer pocket. She took lead and we rushed down a side hallway to another door in the back of the firm as I listened to the newcomers’ uneven footsteps echo up the stairs to the roof from behind us. Cam unlocked the door and we jogged out, turning left towards the elevator area. We got there right as one of the elevator doors dinged and slid open, revealing two more strangers.
I could tell in an instant that these guys were fucked up, too. Both were strangers to me- one was a younger guy dressed like he’d just come from a club, his short-sleeve button-up dirtied and his white tennis shoes filthy. The other was in his 60s and dressed in faded denim and a red hat, one hand still locked around the carry handle of a shopping basket. They both lumbered out while Cam and I hurriedly backed up. They didn’t seem to pay us any mind though, and after a moment of jerky head movements to orient themselves, stumbled in the direction of the law firm lobby. Cam and I looked at each other like two people who just narrowly avoided a car accident before rushing into the elevator. I hit “B” for the basement parking as the doors slid back together and the elevator begin its descent. Screw the office plan, I was getting the hell out of here.
“So… you got a car or something? Do you need me to take you somewhere?” I asked Cam, staring fixedly forward.
“I take the bus… I live kind of a ways out behind Northtown.” She seemed to ponder something for a moment before turning to look at me.
“I live alone in an apartment complex on the top floor. All these guys were trying to get onto the roof… I just don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to go to my place.” She hesitated. “Where are you heading? Think I could stay with you for a bit?”
I faked my best “I’m in control of the situation” smile. “Yeah Cam, you bet.” Her body seemed to relax and she thanked me, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand and stowing her pepper spray in her pocket with the other.
By the time I pulled my Honda out of the garage onto Howard Street the fog was finally lightening up around us by the obscured morning sun. As I navigated my way north through downtown we saw a few more people twitchily walking the sidewalks, shuffling about like poorly made wind-up toys set loose on the city. I kept my eye on the misty sky above us, watching for anything suspicious. The worst I saw was another shadow darting ominously through the clouds, but nothing more. However, we did spot a few more people on the roofs of some smaller office buildings; motionless as they clung to flag poles, electrical boxes, and other fixtures.
“What do you think is happening,” Cam asked, staring out the passenger-seat window at the bizarre happenings around us.
“Hell if I know. I’m heading home to my cat and to give the news a pretty serious read.”
“Sounds good,” Cam agreed, watching homes and chain businesses pass by as we turned on to Monroe.
We spent the rest of the drive in silence, my brain replaying the events of the day. When driving back down Driscoll I watched keenly for Mr. Asshole’s house, curious to see if he was still on his roof. When we passed by I could see he wasn’t. Only a short stretch of rope remained, dangling from the chimney stack. I shook off a shiver at the sight and a moment later turned left into my own driveway.
“Alright, here’s my place. I don’t know if your phone is still out of signal but I have a landline you can use.”
Cam said nothing in response and I glanced over at her. She was giving me a sort of vacant stare, like someone who had just woken up from not enough sleep. She reached behind her neck and began vigorously scratching behind her neck.
“Ah, shit, Cam. C’mon. Tell me you’re okay. Tell me something.”
She stared at me with a confused, pained expression before sporadically choking out words in a voice not quite her own. “Can we go… up?”
“Ah, Cam. Fuck.”
I debated just leaving her in the car and calling the police but my mind flashed back to the rope tied off atop my neighbor’s house, hanging limply in the fog.
“Alright, Cam, you bet. Up is this way. C’mon.”
I walked around the front of the car and helped her out of the passenger side door. Her body motions weren’t yet as jerky as the others I’d seen, but her motor skills were definitely not what they were. We lurched through the front door into my house and I quickly locked the door behind me. As I shifted myself to hold Cam’s weight better Ophie stalked into the living room and hissed frightfully at Cam.
“Yes, yes, I know, Oph,” I responded, exasperated. In my head this whole thing felt like some kind of World War 3 shit, so my plan was to barricade myself down in the basement where I had some food and camping stuff. As soon as Cam saw that we were about to head down the stairs she began to scream at me.
“No! Up! Up! No! UP!” She spat, struggling vainly against me as I practically lifted her up by her armpits to carry her down the stairs. Thank god she was such a small lady. She threw her head back, though, catching me pretty good on the lip, and I felt blood trickle down to my chin behind my mask. I managed to get her down there before lifting-dragging her into the laundry room and locking her in. I cleaned up my face a little bit and changed my shirt before grabbing a water bottle from my basement mini-fridge. I rapidly opened the laundry room door, rolled it in, and locked the door again. I could hear Cam in there, pacing around aimlessly, slamming on random walls and shit, demanding “UP!” every few seconds.
And that was all about five hours ago now. I gathered up Ophie and we’ve been down in the basement ever since. I called 9-1-1 about ten times since I first locked myself into my little suburban bunker, but it’s a busy tone every time. So mostly I’ve spent today huddled up on an old couch, reading news reports on my phone and trying to mentally block out the intermittent screams of “UP!” coming from my laundry room. But like I said, they stopped about an hour ago. To be honest, I preferred when I could hear her.
And that’s what’s really happening, guys. If you’re able to see this message, I need you to know there’s some kind of new ecosystem happening out there and it is making people sick; killing them. I don’t know where it came from or how far it has spread but you sure as shit aren’t gonna survive it if you’re not being careful. Listen to someone who’s actually seen what’s happening out there first hand- it’s worse than you can imagine. So please, please, please. Stay safe. Stay home. And for the love of god… wear a fucking mask.

Covid-19 update Tuesday March 17th

Good morning from the UK. Happy St Patricks day. It'll be a woeful one for many Irish people around the world with pubs and bars shut in multiple US states, several European countries, several Asian countries and worst of all, Ireland itself. Here in the UK you can still go to the pub, although as of late yesterday afternoon the UK government advised against it says the BBC.

Virus statistics
Several comments from redditors in past days complained the WHO stats I C&P'd did not come very close to reflecting stats being quoted by national media wherever they lived. As a result, I'm abandoning the WHO stats and going back to the John Hopkins University tracker stats for all countries. If it's good enough for the likes of Forbes, Business Insider, FT, USA Today to regularly cite it then it's good enough for me:-

Region	Today (John Hopkins Stats at time of writing)	Yesterday (John Hopkins stats not the WHO's)	% daily change
Global	182,424	169,387	+7.7%
China	81,053	81,020	+0.4%
Italy	27,980	24,747	+13.1%
Iran	14,991	13,938	+7.6%
Spain	9,942	7,844	+26.7%
South Korea	8,320	8,162	+1.9%
Germany	7,272	5,813	+25.1%
France	6,655	5,437	+22.4%
USA	4,661	3,774	+23.5%
Switzerland	2,330	2,200	+5.9%
UK	1,553	1,395	+11.3%
Netherlands	1,414	1,136	+24.5%
Norway	1,347	1,256	+7.2%
Sweden	1,121	1,032	+8.6%
Belgium	1,058	886	+19.4%
Austria	1,018	860	18.4%

All other countries with under 1000 identified infections not listed (sorry Denmark), yesterday's threshold was 750. Total countries infected worldwide = 155, an increase from yesterday of 9. Source for all countries (as discussed above): the John Hopkins University dashboard (Link). (Personal note: Western countries infection counts are increasing each day much faster than Asian countries but that may be due to cultural differences or it may be that they're doing my testing, if anyone can shed light on this please do).
Reminder, these are identified case counts and medical experts are reporting this virus has a long incubation period with people being infections despite displaying no symptoms; the true infection figures are likely to be much higher. Note that some countries are reporting shortages of test kits which further skews the data available; assume true cases are much higher.
Finally, no, I don't believe China's official statistics either.

Selected Virus news

Warnings of shortages of regeants (ingredients) to make test kits in the US - the Fool (a high quality finance website despite the name) reports that FDA Commissioner Stephen Hahn stated last week in testimony before a U.S. House of Representatives appropriations subcommittee that there could be supply chain issues with reagents needed for novel coronavirus diagnostic kits. He noted that the supply issues specifically apply to RNA used in testing for coronavirus disease COVID-19.

Shortages in US supermarkets likely to continue until panic buying eases - The LA Times says that shortages will continue until people calm down in their shopping habits. The major chains usually get shipments overnight, or perhaps twice a day, to restock essentials such as paper towels, toilet paper and water, but “manufacturers in some cases are having trouble keeping up, and that’s where the void is, they’re not able to keep up with demand,” said Bob Reeves, vice president for the West at the Shelby Report, a research firm that tracks the grocery industry. “We’re seeing shipments coming into the stores sometimes without any of those products, and it will be like that until people calm down a little bit,” he said. In some cases, chains are sending their delivery trucks directly to manufacturers — bypassing warehouses and distributors — to get the items to the stores faster. (Personal note: the same applies for all supermarket supply chains globally)

Pa. hospitals are rationing protective gear as the number of coronavirus cases grows - (Personal note, this is an example, there seems to be a general global shortage of medical PPE (personal protective equipment) - The Philadelphia Inquirer reports that hospitals across Pennsylvania are drastically limiting the use of key protective gear out of fears that a dramatic increase in coronavirus cases could diminish reserves and cause a dangerous shortage. The rationing comes as the state Department of Health maintains that it has personal protective equipment available and is working with health systems to make sure they have what they need. The gear includes eye protection, gowns, and N95 respirators, which are essential in preventing a health care worker from breathing in infectious particles when in close contact with someone who has COVID-19. In Philadelphia, two doctors who work at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania said it’s barring the use of N95 respirators “except in extraordinarily limited situations.” Penn Medicine declined to comment. Another city doctor, Daphne Owen, said in a tweet Thursday her clinic “for uninsured and undocumented patients” was out of masks. Two days later, the clinic, Puentes de Salud, said it was closed due to the pandemic.

Other Virus news in brief
- The Scottish courts and tribunals announced today that no new criminal jury trials would be commenced or new juries empanelled until further notice.
- Iran has temporarily freed a total of 85,000 prisoners, including political prisoners, a spokesman for its judiciary said on Tuesday, adding that the prisons were responding to the threat of a coronavirus epidemic in jails.
- Britain had “no time to lose” in changing tactics in order to prevent thousands of deaths and the NHS being overwhelmed, scientists providing guidance to the UK government have said. The Imperial College Covid-19 response team – which is one of several scientific teams advising UK ministers – published a paper (I've put it in the addendum below) showing that 250,000 people could die if efforts were focused only on delaying and slowing down the spread of Covid-19.Separately, England’s deputy chief medical officer, Prof Jonathan Van-Tam, could not rule out the strict measures having to last for a year but predicted they would last at least “several months“.
- Australia’s Department of Foreign Affairs has advised Australians to return home as soon as possible by commercial means because overseas travel is becoming “more complex and difficult” as countries impose travel restrictions and close their borders.
- Leaders of EU states were expected on Tuesday to suspend all travel into the passport-free Schengen zone by non-EU nationals for at least 30 days in a bid to instil uniformity across the bloc after some member states, including Austria, Hungary, the Czech Republic and Poland, unilaterally began imposing border checks.
- China has issued an angry reaction (by diplomatic standards) to the US president Donald Trump’s characterisation of the disease as “the Chinese virus.” (he tweeted late last night "The United States will be powerfully supporting those industries, like Airlines and others, that are particularly affected by the Chinese Virus. We will be stronger than ever before!"). China’s foreign ministry spokesman Geng Shuang said the US president should take care of his own matters first and not seek to “stigmatise” China.
- The postponement of soccer’s Euro 2020 Championship may already have been decided after Uefa last week cancelled its hotel bookings in Copenhagen.
- The UK just advised its citizens against all non essential travel worldwide in the past 10 minutes
- Mobile phone networks are struggling in some areas of the UK with significantly increased demands according to down detector. For sure a lot of people seem to be home working, my commute in this morning was like it was the middle of August and everyone else was on holiday.
- Alitalia, the Italian airline flag carrier is to be renationalised by Italy
- Cinema chains are closing in multiple countries due to shutdowns
- Kazakhstan is closing down its two largest cities (despite only having 32 cases so far)
- A preliminary calculation by a US expert suggests that tens of thousands of premature deaths from air pollution may have been avoided by the cleaner air in China, far higher than the 3,208 coronavirus deaths.
- Jordan: the army has said it will deploy at entrances and exits of main cities in the kingdom in a move officials said was ahead of an imminent announcement of a state of emergency to combat the spread of coronavirus.
- In a joint statement, Facebook, Google, LinkedIn, Microsoft, Reddit and YouTube said they would help ensure people could stay connected to each other during isolation as well as fight any misinformation and fraud linked to the outbreak. “We are working closely together on Covid-19 response efforts,” the statement said. “We’re helping millions of people stay connected while also jointly combating fraud and misinformation about the virus, elevating authoritative content on our platforms, and sharing critical updates in co-ordination with government healthcare agencies around the world.
- Almost all Germans shops are about to close by government decree; supermarkets, pharmacies will remain open (including on Sundays when they are usually closed). Separately, government press briefings there have gone online only.
- Olympic organisers in Japan are asking people not to create crowds along the route of the Olympic torch relay and not to gather near the route if they feel sick. A Boeing aircraft flew to Greece on 15 March to bring the torch to Japan.
- France: No movement allowed except for essential work or health reasons. “There can be no more outside meetings, no more seeing family or friends on the street or in the park. We must slow the spread of this virus by limiting the number of people we are in contact with each day to the strict minimum. If we do not, we endanger the lives of those we hold dear.” said the French President Macron.
- Israel’s government has approved emergency measures to track people suspected or confirmed to have been infected with the coronavirus by monitoring their mobile phones, immediately raising privacy concerns in the country. The cabinet unanimously approved the use of the technology, developed initially for counter-terrorism purposes, in the early hours of Tuesday morning. The Association for Civil Rights in Israel said providing the country’s internal security agency, the Shin Bet, with new secretive powers was a “dangerous precedent and a slippery slope that must be approached and resolved after much debate and not after a brief discussion”.
- Indonesian president Joko Widodo said on Saturday that he had withheld some information about cases to prevent the country from panicking, the Jakarta Post reported. He has rejected calls for a lockdown to be imposed on hard hit areas.
- Malaysia has announced it's closing its borders prompting neighbouring Singapore's citizens to panic buy (90% of their food is imported from Malaysia).
- New Zealand on Tuesday deported its first unruly traveller flouting the country’s mandatory 14-day self-isolation rule for almost all arrivals, the health ministry said. The tourist, who had checked into a backpackers hostel in the city of Christchurch, was removed from the accommodation by the police after officials learned she did not have clear self-isolation plans.

Economics

Goldman Sachs doesn't think the stock market drops have finished - BusinessInsider says that Goldman Sachs thinks that the S&P 500 might plunge as low as 2,000 before recovering through the rest of the year, the investment bank wrote Friday. The level is the benchmark index's lowest since early 2016 and implies a 20% decline from Monday's open. Such a tumble would also place the index more than 40% below its February 19 peak. The coronavirus outbreak is responsible for "unprecedented financial and societal disruption," the analysts said, and equities have so far served as accurate leading indicators before the release of relevant earnings or macroeconomic data. That said, the analysts pointed out that "The lesson of prior event-driven bear markets is that financial devastation ultimately allows a new bull market to be born,".

U.S. factories are likely to close because of the coronavirus’ supply-chain shock - Marketwatch reports (link) that there is a very real chance that companies from auto makers to electronics manufacturers will soon begin to cease or limit production. With a downed China as the headstream of global manufacturing, mercantile America simply can’t function as it’s accustomed to. We’re starting to see this happen in official reports: The New York Fed’s Empire State business conditions index, released Monday, plunged by a record 34.4 points to minus 21.5 in March. And Federal Reserve Chairman Jerome Powell said Sunday he expects a contraction in GDP in the second quarter. (Personal note: I expect similar problems across all G20 countries). The article goes on to explain that many supply chain directors may understand their first tier suppliers but often do not have full visibility of the status of their 2nd or 3rd tier suppliers

Supply impact of the coronavirus outbreak is waning, but demand shock will linger, economist says - CNBC says that in January and February, industrial output fell by 13.5% from the same period a year earlier, the weakest reading since January 1990 — when Reuters' record began. China's industrial production is likely to improve in March over a slump in January and February due to the coronavirus outbreak, but consumer demand will take longer to recover both in the country and globally, an economist said Monday. "We will see some recovery, but this recovery, I think, is being undermined by the global spread as well," said Bo Zhuang, chief China economist at TS Lombard. Meanwhile, retail sales in January and February shrank 20.5% from a year ago, compared with a 8% growth in December as fearful consumers avoided crowded places like malls, restaurants and cinemas. "We were worried about supply-side issues, but now it's becoming a demand shock issue," said Zhuang. Smaller outfits like restaurants and service-oriented businesses have "resumed work but there are no customers," said Zhuang. "I think we are going to see a delayed V-shape (recovery), and this V may be a tilted V or W, or even U. We are not sure," he added.

Coronavirus Impacts Every Sector of the Supply Chain - Supply and demand chain executive reports that the global supply chain continues to experience disruption. "We have seen that in the way that it’s spreading across into different hubs where we see alternative routes to be overly burdened, such as the rail system,” says Koray Köse of Gartner. “Now with the crisis and the hubs being closed and product movements are still active to some extent, but not necessarily from those regions, will become crowded and impacted. This means that there’s an additional strain on the overall network to move material.” Some products have experienced significant upticks including Chicken noodle soup (+37%), Hand sanitizer (+65%), Disinfecting Wipes: (+353%) and Cold & Flu medications (+197%) amongst others.

Coronavirus pandemic worse than 1997 financial crisis, Malaysian ex-PM Mahathir warns - The Strait times reports on Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad, the former premier who steered Malaysia's recovery from the 1997 Asian financial crisis, expects the current coronavirus pandemic to hit the global economy even harder. "This is worse than the financial crisis," he said in a Bloomberg Television interview. "This is really a terrible blow to the economies of the whole world." Dr Mahathir joins other world leaders in warning that the virus impact may be worse than past periods of upheaval (Personal note: I pointed out yesterday the NZ PM also saying this).

Supply chain news relating to Covid-19

For Global Supply Chains the Worst Is Yet to Come - Supply Chain Management review says (Link) that most industrial companies have 30-60 days of parts and raw materials either on hand, in-transit, or obtainable on short notice. After these supplies run out, we will start to see shortages of finished products as well as parts needed to produce other goods. Shortages will start to become more evident toward the end of March and beginning of April. Production in some non-Chinese factories will have to be put on hold for lack of parts. Partially finished products will remain in suspension until all parts are available to build finished products. Some companies are pressing their engineers to redesign parts that can be sourced in the U.S., or at least outside of China. Other companies are giving 3D printing a serious try for the first time. The article goes on to point out delays in sea freight ex-Asia and extremely high airfreighting costs are exacerbating the situation.

U.S. Suspends Truck-Driving Limits to Speed Coronavirus Shipments - The Wall Street Journal reports as of 2 days ago that maximum working hours for truck drivers in the US have been suspended. This applies to truck drivers moving emergency supplies such as medical equipment, hand sanitizer and food in response to the nationwide coronavirus outbreak. It comes as hospitals report shortages of medical masks and as retailers and manufacturers are straining under surging demand for everything from hand sanitizer to staples such as toilet paper and rice. As anxious consumers stockpile goods, grocers have turned to rationing, imposing purchase limits on disinfectant wipes, cleaning supplies and other high-demand products. The move is the first time the FMCSA has issued nationwide-wide relief from hours-of-service regulations, although regional declarations have waived those rules in response to disasters such as hurricanes. Federal regulations limit most commercial truck drivers to 11 hours of driving time in a 14-hour workday, restrictions intended to reduce accidents caused by highway fatigue.

For supply chain companies, U.S.-Mexico border closures could be catastrophic - Marketplace points out that Mexico’s deputy health minister says he’s worried about people coming into Mexico from the United States; currently the U.S. has far more cases of COVID-19 than Mexico. The Mexican government even said it might consider restricting access at its northern borders. For businesses that operate on both sides of the border, any shutdown could be catastrophic. The article gives a case study of a manfacturer employing 150 people in Texas. The company president says before anyone considers closing the border, President Donald Trump and Mexico’s president, Andrés Manuel López Obrador, should discuss a coordinated response to the virus. As for now, he says all of his people can work from home, if the situation calls for it. Everyone here has a laptop, he said. But he says the independent truck drivers and contractors who work on the loading docks, they have to be on site to run things. Those people also only get paid if they show up for work. So, for now, they’re glad the COVID-19 hasn’t shut this part of Texas down, yet.

It won't be long before Coronavirus shuts down local African supply chains - The major Kenyan newspaper daily nation reports that there are imminent difficulties facing Kenyan pharma firms due to the industry importing 70% of its ingredients from India and China, both of whom have restricted exports. Studies show that the Kenyan pharmaceuticals market is worth Sh100 billion ($965m USD), 80 per cent of which is prescription drugs. Although Kenya exports 50 per cent to the COMESA region and 75 per cent to East African Community, most of these exports are re-exports from India and China.

European automotive factories shutting down - Ferrari and Lamborghini have both suspended almost all production (says the Express and Star) whilst Yahoo Finance reports that Fiat Chrysler said in a statement on Monday 16 March that it would halt operations at most of its European plants, from now until 27 March because of an “interruption in market demand.” The Italian-American automotive group said the manufacturing stop includes six factories in Italy, the EU country worst hit by coronavirus. Italy has had over 24,700 infection cases so far, and more than 1,800 people have died from the virus. The PSA group, which includes Peugeot, Citroen, and Opel, said today it will close all its European plants, including in the UK, France and Germany for the remainder of the month too. German car giant Volkswagen is also suspending production at a number of manufacturing bases in Europe, including in Slovakia and Spain. VW-owned Seat has shuttered its main factory near Barcelona for at least the rest of the month. Meanwhile, according to the Financial Times, Volkswagen may also be forced to curtail production at the main factory in its home town of Wolfsburg, because of running low on parts.
Useful parcel courier current operational status links for anyone else in eCommerce:Canada Post, DHL Express, DPD, Fedex, Parcelforce, USPS. If anyone has any other major courier links for service status, please let us all know :)

Good news section
Amazon to hire 100,000 more workers and give raises to current staff to deal with coronavirus demands - CNBC says that Amazon is hiring an additional 100,000 employees in the U.S. to meet the surge in demand from online shopping amid the coronavirus outbreak, the company said Monday. The company is looking to add extra full-time and part-time positions for warehouse and delivery workers. Through the end of April, it will raise pay for these employees by $2 per hour in the U.S., £2 per hour in the UK, and approximately €2 per hour in many EU countries. Amazon currently pays $15 per hour or more in some areas of the U.S. for warehouse and delivery jobs. Amazon encouraged employees in other industries whose jobs were "lost or furloughed" as a result of the coronavirus to apply, including members of the hospitality, restaurant and travel industries. "We want those people to know we welcome them on our teams until things return to normal and their past employer is able to bring them back," the company added.

Educating in denial older relatives anecdote
Personal story time; my 69 year old Aunt is very grumpy because despite me telling her for well over a month, it is finally dawning on her that her dream guided coach bus tour of the West USA national parks in 10 weeks time is rapidly going up in smoke whilst my 75 year old Dad has realised his third cruise of the year (this time around the med) in 5 weeks time is also about to be toast. My Aunt complained on Facebook yesterday that nobody is mentioning the 46,000 people who have recovered from the illness and that "it's just a bit of flu". It isn't, otherwise governments around the world would not be reacting as they are.
If you have an elderly relative like mine who relies far too much on social media anecdotes rather than good quality fact based mainstream media, maybe point them at this businessinsider article here where it points out that 1) flu mortality rates are 0.1% vs. Covid-19 is 3.4% and 2) for 70-79 the mortality rate is 8% and for over 80's it's 14.8%. Hopefully they might just realise the seriousness of the situation; my Aunt dismissed it as "a website I've never heard of and won't believe" despite the article clearly citing CDC figures.

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Donations
Several asked if they can send me $/£/€ via Patreon (in some cases because I've saved them time or money, others for no reason at all). I don't need the cash (that's lovely though) but food bank charities are getting really hit hard with all this panic buying. Please consider giving whatever you'd have given me to a foodbank charity instead:
UK: https://www.trusselltrust.org/
France: https://www.banquealimentaire.org/
Germany: https://www.tafel.de/
Netherlands: https://www.voedselbankennederland.nl/steun-ons/steun-voedselbank-donatie/
Spain: https://www.fesbal.org/
Australia: https://www.foodbank.org.au/
Canada: https://www.foodbankscanada.ca/
USA: https://www.feedingamerica.org/
Thanks in advance for any donations you give. If there's foodbank charities in your country and it's not listed above, please suggest it and I will include it going forward.

EDIT: Missed out virus news in brief, added as of 12:45. EDIT 2: Added in the Dutch foodbank link (hat tip siliconfrontier)

OBLIGATORY FILLER MATERIAL – BAR FIGHT? NOT WITH DOC BIONICFINGERS! Part one.

That reminds me of a story.
I’m going cooped-up crazy. Shacky-wacky. Hotel doldrums have set in.
Yes, I know. Es and I just got back from a resounding tour of a shipbreaking yard in India.
Flew way above First Class.
Never had to even touch our luggage.
♫Oh, what fun it is to charter flights. Limos all the way. Hey! ♫.
But, the hotel bars here are paling quickly. Quiet. Too quiet. Same old, dull, dazed, and dormant crowd. The Expat population in Dubai is dwindling mightily. The COVID craziness is a madness that is taking a heavy toll. Everything’s shut down. Everyone’s staying at home.
I’m almost nostalgic for a good old Dubai 35 car pile-up and traffic jam.
Es sees that I’m in a quandary. She had quite a few friends here in Dubai. The ones I had have all left due to cratering oil prices or they’re what’s considered an ‘essential employee’, and thus unavailable.
“ROCK! QUIT YOUR PACING!” Es says in her most inimitable manner. “YOU’RE MAKING ME CRAZY!”
“A thousand pardons, my darling. But, Boditek. I suffer! Klytus, I’m bored. Bored out of my fucking mind. I can only write so much on the Precambrian Hydrocarbon reservoirs of Eastern Siberia. Television’s a bust, there’s no Netflix, even Pirate Bay is blocked here, and I’m going spare!” I whimper.
“Go then. Begone with thee. Go find a dark bar and grab a seat on Mahogany Ridge. You need a night off. Just take your fingers with so you won’t scare the locals. And be home before they open the borders. We want to be first in line when that happens” she says.
“By your command!”, I say, grab her around the waist, give her a spin, a quick smooch on the cheek, and pat on the backside before I hit the stairs in our suite in a flat-out gallop to retrieve my now charged digits from their charging port on my nightstand.
A few minutes later…
Stately, plump Dr. Rocknocker came from the stairhead bearing three incredibly expensive technologically-derived Kevlar-ed digits. He was clad in his finest Desert Fox chino shorts, freshly cleaned and oiled field boots, a new pair of jade Merino Rannoch Luxury Country Socks, best new Hawaiian drinking shirt, a Blasting technician T-shirt and black, recently blocked, Stetson.
He was so full of himself, that he actually stopped talking about his own self in the narrative in the third person.
“Esme? Darling? I’m off!” I say with a lilt in my voice and a cheeseburger in my pocket.
But that’s another story.
“You’re off, all right”, Es chuckles. “Now Rock, remember. This is the first time in a long time I’m letting you off the chain, out unsupervised among the general population. Don’t break anyone if you can avoid it and even if someone needs a quick killing, remember, you’re on vacation. OK?”
“Oh, my dear!” I chuckle and snicker, “You know me. I wouldn’t kill anyone here in Dubai. There’s no money in it.”
“Still. Best behavior?” She admonishes.
“I can’t guarantee anything, but I will try,” I reply.
“Pinkie promise?” she requests.
Damn. One of the few fingers of which left I have a natural set.
Now I can’t say that it was just a Kevlar-coated contract.
“But of course”, I say as we entwine pinkies. Hers nice, clean, and pink; mine keloidal, gnarled, and scarred.
Yeah, it about makes me retch. But Es sort of enjoys these silly things now and again.
I’m waiting in the hotel bar for my cab to arrive. I have a quick Long Island Iced Tea or three before I hit the streets. I’ve got this weird hankering for a sports bar. Don’t know why. I hate football, i.e., soccer, cricket, and those other weird forms of ball chasing they call sports over here.
But I yearn to be in a bar full of leather, hewn wood, and smoke. Attended by the smell of manly men drinking as they see fit.
In Dubai? Fat chance.
I ask my driver, who has just arrived, and who will be with me all night; if he minds me smoking, having a drink in a plain brown wrapper, and if he knows of a decent sports bar in Dubai.
No.
Nope.
Quantum Sports Bar.
“It’s sort of pricey”, he tells me.
My driver for the duration is one Roy Toisuta, an Indonesian chap who looks like he fell off a charm bracelet. In reality, I could make up three of him. But he’s affable, quick on the gas and bound to be a boon companion.
He is wiry in that whipsaw sort of kill-you-with-a-paperclip-1000-different-ways sort of manner. Like the human personification of a gaunt wolverine.
We’ll get along famously.
He tells me he doesn’t drink for whatever reason. He announces that he would wait for me out in the car while I go in and do whatever one does in a Sports Bar in Dubai for a few hours.
“Look, Roy”, I say, “I’m on retainer. C’mon in and I’ll buy you dinner and all the coffee, tea, or fizz water you could want. I just need someone non-judgmental. See, I have this affliction. I’m an alcohol-fueled carbon-based organism. I tend to drink a lot, but only to excess. You have any sort of problem with that?”
“Well, Rock”, he says, “As long as we’re being honest, I have no problem. The way I see it, the more you drink, the looser your wallet becomes.”
“I don’t suppose you’d care to lay a small wager on that conclusion?” I ask, leerily in that strange way I have that makes Komodo Dragons gulp in disbelief.
“I’ll bet, after what you told me about your recent confinement, that I’ll be dragging and/or carrying you out of the bar tonight. “ he snickers, dreaming of my very loose wallet and its contents. “You’re going to be tying one on, I can see that.”
“You can see me. But you can’t see my past” I think.
“Well, you’re not drinking, so what’s in it for me if I win?” I ask.
“A free driver for the next week?” he asks.
“Want to make it a month? I’m really, really thirsty.” I sneer.
“Make it a fortnight.”, he laughs. “Easiest money I’ve ever made. I can barely hold you back.”
“Deal”, as we shake hands. He notices my gloves for the first time.
“What’s that all about?” he asks.
“Industrial accident years ago. Not terribly pretty.” I say.
“Oh. OK. Ready to go?” He asks.
“Gentlemen”, I announce, “Forward. Drink!”
Roy accepts a cigar from one of my travel pocket humidors and we walk up to the entrance.
“You be who?” asks the doorman.
“Well, my good man, I am the Motherfucking Pro from Dover, and this is my able-bodied companion, Kato”, I say in my most affected Elliott Gould imitation.
“What?” he asks trying to corral at least two functioning synapses.
“Pardons. I’m Dr. Rocknocker and this is my trusty driver, Roy.” I continue.
“Ah. What? Hmm? Who?” was the response.
“Oh, I am sorry. Which word confused you?” I asked, most deferentially.
“You trying to be smart?” he asks.
“Well, I reckoned that at least one of us should,” I replied.
He sat there and fumbled with that reply like a nun in a warm bathtub fumbles with a bar of soap. You know the type, she has hope in her soul…
As he struggles to come up with an answer, I offer him a cigar the likes of which I’m certain he’s never seen outside of a Hollywoo movie.
“Here, my good man. My card.” I say as I hand over a large example of the perfection of the tobacconist’s art.
He gratefully accepts the cigar and removes the rope barrier.
“Have yourself a good time, gents.” He says.
“Oh. We intend to”, I reply.
“Ever need anything, just ask for Sandeep” the towering Nepali remarks with a smile.
“Thanks. Have a night yourself…”, I reply and stuff another cigar in his shirt pocket for later.
He grins wide as Dubai Creek and just as brown. He shoots me a wide smile and a universal thumbs-up sign.
“Best to make friends rather than antagonize the locals”, I muse.
“You’re an odd bird, Doctor Rocknocker.” Roy chortles.
“Roy, it’s just ‘Rock’, OK? It’ll save both time and cuts down on CO2 exhalations. And I’m all for protecting the environment.” I smiled back.
Roy chewed on that one for most the rest of the night.
The Sports Bar was quiet. Fairly empty, with probably more wait-persons than patrons.
One particularly buxom specimen of the female side of the equation welcomed us in an overtly and obviously affected mien. She wanted to show us to a table that was within the sphere of her waitressy influence.
“No, thank you”, I said as I spied acres and acres of glistening unoccupied Mahogany with tens of unoccupied seats that both faced the long bar and the several large-screen televisions there.
Seemingly bereft of people to wait and prey upon, she ignored us roundly. To her financial detriment as we would all find out during the course of the evening.
I chose a likely looking seat at the bar and Roy joined me, cautiously, a seat or two away.
“I don’t bite, Roy”, I said.
“Social distancing”, he replied.
“Ah. Well, I have a fully functional immune system as well as the hardest working liver in the galaxy. I assure you I’m in no way communicable.” I replied, slightly miffed. “Besides, after that cab ride here, whatever ætiology I have, you have as well, and vice versa.”
He scooted over one seat but shuttled that seat back to the right about 15 more centimeters.
“Some folks just don’t like their personal space invaded”, I surmised.
I pulled out one of my cigar cases, a cutter, lighter, and a stack of currencies that I was going to try and get rid of that night.
I had freshly minted UK Pounds, Euros of many nations, Indian Rupees, Russian Rubles, Japanese Yen, Chinese Renmimbi, some Uzbek Som, Afghani Afghans, Argentinian Pesos, down under Ozzian Dollarydoos, Mongolian Tugriks, Omani Rials, a few Samoan Tālā, and a bunch of US dollars.
How I ended up with that last group remains a mystery.
Roy goggled at the stack of weirdly colored and weirdly wonderful currencies of many nations.
“Sorry, Roy”, I said, “No Indonesian rupiah. Haven’t been to Jakarta in a long time.”
“What the hell are those weird ones there?” he asked.
“Which ones?” I chuckled back.
It was at that time our reverie was broken.
The bartender, one Zac O'Madden, an Irish national currently working for the hotel to which this bar is attached, interrupts our nascent debauch and asks for our drink orders.
“Not so fast there!” I say. “Introductions first. We’re not savages here.”
Zac chuckles. “You’re obviously American.”
“Вы уверены в этом? [Are you certain of that?]”, I say in return.
Zac just stands there and laughs.
“Та үнэхээр итгэлтэй байна уу? [Are you really certain?]” I ask in Mongolian. “Ĉu vi vere certas? Bạn có thực sự chắc chắn?”
“You’re as Russian or whatever that was as I am Kenyan. Now I know it. You’re American.” He says assuredly.
“And you have this nasty habit of being correct. I’m Dr. Rocknocker, call me Rock. This slight but solid fellow to my right is Roy, late of Jakarta and Krakatoa, actually west of Java.” I snicker.
“And I am Zac O’Madden, of Dublin and points east. Nice to meet you all. What can I get for you?” he asks.
After we shake hands in a very manly, indeed, manner, I ask Roy what is his pleasure.
“A tall club soda with a twist of lime, on the rocks.” He replies offhandedly.
“You’ve done this before”, I observe rather unnecessarily. “Zac, Roy gets what he wants tonight, my tab. I’ll have a Sazerac, hold the sugar. Actually several. You see, on the flight over, I sat through another showing of ’Live and Let Die’, and now I miss Mardi Gras, New Orleans, and Pat O’Brien’s. But I don’t like sweet drinks.”
“Coming right up”, Zac says with a well-practiced swish of his bar rag.
“Oh, but I’m not finished. I’d also like a beer chaser. A pint of…ah, do you have a beer menu?” I ask, looking down the long row of tappers.
“Coming up”, he says, and races off to find me one.
A few minutes later he returns with my cocktail, Roy’s fizz water, and a bar beer menu.
I raise my glass to Zac and then to Roy. We clink and I say, “I like this guy. And I like this bar. We’re going to have us a large night.”
I drain my unsweet Sazerac in one go.
Hey. I was thirsty. Needs a scootch more absinthe I observe.
Roy and Zac just sort of stare, wide-eyed, as I peruse the beer menu.
Nice menu, nice diversity. Oh, very nice.
“I’ll have the Asahi Kuronama Black if you don’t mind. Plus another Sazerac, a bit more absinthe if you please. You see, I have this genetic condition I need to keep in balance.” I grinned.
Zac looked at me like I had some sort of adverse medical condition.
“You OK, Rock?” he asked most earnestly.
“Look, Zac, I just met you and you’re a hell of a tarbender, far be it from me to tell you your job, but you see, there is this…” I said, trailing off.
“Yes?” His was a look of genuine concern. The genuine concern he won’t own that pile of currency on the bar in front of me by the end of the night.
“Yeah. Genetics dealt me a weird hand. See. I’m an ethanol-fueled carbon-based organism…”
Roy just rolled his eyes.
Zac looked puzzled.
“Yeah, I require alcohol in good-tasting and heroic amounts on a regular basis. I also have to smoke huge, black cigars in order to moderate the bioreactor.” I smiled, as I leaned back and fired up a heater.
Zac looked at me. Chewed over what I said for a moment or two. He shrugged his shoulders, grabbed my empty glass, and said, “OK, whatever. Round two in moments.”
Roy went to ask me something, thought better of it, and just leaned over and grabbed my Zippo from Irkutsk.
He looked at the cameo-relief silver and amber city crest attached to the lighter, flipped it open, and tried firing up his cigar.
“They draw better if you cut the end first,” I said, absently; and not looking, just hand him my V-cutter.
Zac returns with a new Sazerac, a chilled bottle of Asahi Kuronama Black, a tall pilsner glass, and a new club soda for Roy.
I puffed my cigar, drained another Sazerac in one go, tried the Japanese black beer, and found it to my liking. I leaned back to observe what sort of sports carnage they were observing on the big screens.
Roy just looked at me with wide eyes but said nothing.
The evening wore on. After a couple or twelve more Sazeracs, I decided it was time to teach Zac the finer points of mixology via premium vodka, bubbly citrus, ice, and lime wheels.
I also found that they had a stock of Pabst Blue Ribbon 1844, from China.
“PBR!”, I almost yelled, “Holy wow! I grew up on the stuff.”
“Not this stuff, Rock”, Zac said, “Look at the price. We only got a small amount due to a shipping error. It’s not sold outside of China normally.”
It was UAE 165 per bottle, about US$45, and worth every dirham. Zak was amazed when I told him to go ahead and have one on Roy and me.
“Really, Rock?”, Zac exclaimed. “The usual buggers here are so tight, they hum when the wind blows. Hardly anyone buys me a drink. Except for you Americans. Finest kind.”
“That’s me. An international ambassador of amity and alcohol,”, I say and toast in his general direction. “Crack tubes!”
Roy was getting tired as a newt. Evidently not drinking, listening to old war stories, and watching recorded US Football games due to the COVID lack of anything live, can take its toll as well.
I’m going strong as I’m asking Zac to explain what the fuck cricket is all about.
“So, let me get this straight,” I say, ordering another double cocktail and a couple of PBR chasers for Zac and myself. “The guy on the mound runs up and pitches to the guy dressed in the body armor. He uses a bent 2x4 to defend the wicket, which, if I recall correctly, can be sticky. Then he keeps the aliens from stealing the stumps and burning them to ashes in Australia...”
“God”, Zac exclaims, “You’re fucking hopeless.”
“Everything I know about cricket I learned from the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the galaxy.” I smiled proudly.
“That was rather obvious…” Zac sheeshed. He left to attend to another patron, a loud and woozy Kiwi.
I looked at the source of all the bad noise and in my inattention, just clicked my full beer glass. I inadvertently violated Rule #1 and spilled a small soupçon of expensive, imported beer onto my left hand.
“Whoops!”, I said and stripped off my sodden left-hand glove. I used Zac’s bar towel to sop up the bar and dry my techno-digits.
Roy looked not only at my ‘whoops’, but goggled my Japanese one-off, so far, electro-fingers.
“Rock. What the hell, man. I mean, what the fuck. Are those for real?” he asked.
“Yeah, they are a new prototype and I’m the lab rat.”, I said, waggling them and seeing that something as mundane a beer spill could never possibly injure them.
By this time, Zac wanders back, sees I’ve used his bar rag, and looks at my hand for real for the first time.
“What the fuck, Rocko? You some sort of cyborg?” he asks.
“By definition; yes, I am. And my grandfather used to call me that. Thanks.”, I replied. “But, yeah, I’m an alcohol-fueled one at that,” I say, tapping and pointing rather pointedly at my currently unpopulated cocktail glass.
Zac returns with a reload. He and Roy demand to know the whole story.
“If you must pry…” I say.
“Oh, we must, we must”, they reply in unison.
So, I regale them with the tale of the Siberian rig. The blowout, fire, and the moderately overzealous Russian FNG.
“Rock, I don’t know if that’s true, but by your appearance, it has to be. Let me buy you a drink.” Zac says.
Roy asks for a Molson Light.
“Roy! You old fraud.” I said.
“I usually don’t drink. But after that story, I think I need something cold, wet, and with a little punch.” He said, staring at my hand.
“Then you’ve chosen well”, as I down another Rocknocker, sip at my PBR and snip a new cigar.
“Rock, can I ask you a question?” Roy asks. Zac is polishing our spot at the bar insistently. I think he has a question or two as well.
“Sure. Go nuts.” I reply, puffing on my new cigar and sipping this lovely amber 1844 brew.
He crouches conspiratorially and asks in a low sotto voce: “Is that why you drink as you do? To dull the pain? From the accident. That’s it, right? Isn’t it?” Roy asks, almost genuinely concerned.
I laughed loud and long. I chuckled, snorted, and had to calm myself with gulps of my beer and cocktail.
“Roy, Roy, Roy…I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m from Baja Canada originally. I’m a multiply-degreed petroleum geologist. I’ve lived and worked in Russia for many, many years. And, as I’ve said, I’m an ethanol-fueled organism. Quadruple perfect storm. My fingers don’t hurt. Or they might, I have no idea. I don’t even know where hell they are.” I laughed at my own witty repartee.
Roy actually paled some. He took a long draught of his anemic beer and just stared at me.
Zac had disappeared. He presently returned with a bottle of Beluga Gold Line Vodka.
“Rock, after that, this one’s for you. On the house.” He said.
“Only if you will join me. And let me pay for yours.” I said.
Zac agrees.
The shnozzled Kiwi from previous in the narrative staggers by and hears the tag-end of our conversation.
He leans over to grab the expensive bottle of vodka and says “Don’t mind if I do.”
“None for you, asshole. You’re lucky I let you stay here waiting on a cab” Zac growls, and grabs the bottle away.
The Kiwi looks at Zac. He looks at Roy. Then he looks at me, my drinks, cigar, and the smaller pile of currency on the bar.
He may have been loaded, but something swam upstream against his internal current of booze and made him decide that right now, discretion was the better part of valor. He toddled unsteadily away.
“Asswipe”, Zac spits, “He’s here every other month. He pays for his drinks, but he can’t hold them. Never once tips or buys a round. General asshole. Still, management won’t let me toss nor ban him.”
“Some people”, I distastefully agreed and poured Zac and myself a healthy double-tot of the fine, smooth, and icy vodka. “I weep for our species sometimes.”
I insisted Zac join me. I asked Roy if he’d like a taste.
“Thanks, Rock. But you’ve already been too much of a bad influence on me.” he smiled, and tipped his almost empty pilsner glass.
“OK, no pressure. I may drink like a school of belugas, but if someone else doesn’t want to, I respect that all day long. Still, the offer stands.” I continue.
“I’ll think about it, Rock. I’m still not over how you can just sit there and joke about your cybernetic fingers and how you got them. I’d…I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it. “ he shudders.
“Want to see the scar on my leg where I got shot with a .45? Or the scar on my coconut from a hunk of falling ice on a drilling rig?” I asked.
“Fuck no!”, Roy almost screams. “What the hell. You held together by scar tissue?”
”That. Baling wire and Duct Tape.” I laughed, “And people wonder why I drink.”
“I thought so!” Roy exclaimed.
“I drink because I chose to. I can stop anytime. In fact, I stopped smoking and drinking once; by nothing more than sheer force of will.” I said proudly.
“Really?” Roy asked.
“Yep”, I replied, “It was the worst 45 minutes of my life.”
To be continued…

The truth behind Puskás Akadémia FC - How Hungarian PM Viktor Orbán stole a legend, built a stadium in his backyard and guided his team to Europe

The 2019/2020 season of the Hungary’s National Football League (NB1) – being one of the first leagues to restart play - came to an end on 27 June. If a casual observer (for whatever reason) decides to check out the final standings, he would be not surprised at the first two positions: record-champion Ferencváros defended their title, while regional powerhouse Fehérvár (Videoton) came in second. However, the third place team, Puskás Akadémia FC might seem unusual and one could think that there is a story behind that. Is there a team named after Ferenc Puskás? Did some academy youths make an incredible run for the Europa League qualification? Well, the observer is right, there is a story behind all this, but it’s absolutely not a fun story. It’s a story about how one powerful man’s obsession with football stole a legend, misused state funds and killed the spirit of Hungarian football. (Warning: this is a long story, feel free to scroll down for a tl;dr. Also, I strongly advise checking out the links, those images are worth seeing).
Naturally, political influence in football has been present ever since the dawn of the sport and we know of numerous state leaders who felt confident enough to use their influence to ensure the successful development of their favored clubs – Caucescu’s FC Olt Scornicesti and Erdogan’s Basaksehir are well-known examples of such attempts. However, I fear that very few of the readers are aware of the fact that Puskás Akadémia FC is nothing but Hungarian PM Viktor Orbán’s grandiose project for establishing his hometown’s club as one of the country’s top teams. Considering that Orbán managed to achieve this goal using state funds in an EU member democracy in the 2000s, one might even say that it might be one of the most impressive attempts of cheating your way through Football Manager in real life. Now that Puskás Akadémia FC escaped the desolate football scene of Hungary and is getting ready for the European takeover, I feel that it’s high time to tell its true story.

Part 1: Part time striker, part time PM

Our story begins in 1999 when the 36-year-old striker Viktor Orbán (recently elected as the country’s Prime Minister) was signed by the sixth-tier side of Felcsút FC residing in rural Fejér County. It might sound surprising that an active politician would consider such a side job, but given that Orbán has been playing competitive low-level football throughout his whole life and has always been known as a keen football enthusiast, people seemed to be okay with his choice for a hobby. Orbán spent most of his childhood in the village of Felcsút (population: 1,800), so it seemed only natural that he would join the team after one of his old-time acquaintances became team president there.
Orbán’s arrival to the club seemed to work like a charm as Felcsút FC immediately earned a promotion to the fifth league. The Prime Minister’s busy program did not allow him to attend every training session and game but Orbán did make an effort to contribute as much as possible on the field – there is a report of a government meeting being postponed as Orbán was unavailable due to attending Felcsút FC’s spring training camp. The 2001/2002 season brought another breakthrough for the side as Felcsút was promoted to the national level of the football pyramid after being crowned the champion of Fejér County. Sadly enough for Orbán, he suffered a defeat on another pitch – his party lost the 2002 election and Orbán was forced to move to an opposition role.
No matter what happened on the political playing field, Orbán would not abandon his club. Just before the 2002 elections, Felcsút was surprisingly appointed as one of the regional youth development centers by the Hungarian FA. Orbán continued contributing on the field as well (he had more spare time after all) but his off-the-field efforts provided much more value for the team as he used his political influence to convince right-wing businessmen that they should definitely get sponsorship deals done with the fourth-division village team.
Club management was able to transform the influx of funds into on-field success: Felcsút FC was promoted to the third division in 2004 and achieved promotion to the second division in 2005. Although these new horizons required a skill level that an aging ex-PM is not likely to possess, Orbán regularly played as a late game sub and even appeared in cup games against actual professional opponents. The now-42-year old Orbán did not want to face the challenge of the second division, so he retired in 2005 – but this did not stop him from temping as an assistant coach when the head coach was sacked in the middle of the 2005-2006 season.
Success on the playing field did not translate to political success: Orbán lost the elections once again in 2006. However, this was only a temporary loss: the ruling party committed blunder after blunder and by early 2007 it became absolutely obvious that Orbán would be able return to power in 2010. Now confident in his political future, Orbán opted for the acceleration of football development in Felcsút – by late 2007 he took over the presidency of the club to take matters in his own hands. Sponsors seeking to gain favor with the soon-to-be PM were swarming Felcsút FC, so the club was able to stand very strong in an era where financial stability was a very rare sight in the Hungarian football scene, accumulating three medals (but no promotion) between 2007 and 2009.
On the other hand, Orbán realized the value of youth development as well, and started a local foundation for this purpose back in 2004 that gathered funds for the establishment a boarding school-like football academy. The academy opened its doors in September 2006 (only the second of such institutions in the country) and Orbán immediately took upon the challenge of finding an appropriate name for the academy.
He went on to visit the now very sick Ferenc Puskás in the hospital to discuss using his name, but as Puskás’ medical situation was deteriorating rapidly, communication attempts were futile. Luckily enough Puskás’ wife (and soon to be widow) was able to act on his incapable husband’s behalf and approved the naming deal in a contract. According to the statement, naming rights were granted without compensation, as “Puskás would have certainly loved what’s happening down in Felcsút”. However, there was much more to the contract: Puskás’ trademark was handed to a sports journalist friend of Orbán (György Szöllősi, also acting communications director of the academy) who promised a hefty annual return for the family (and also a 45% share of the revenue for himself). Ferenc Puskás eventually died on 17 November 2006 and on 26 November 2006 the football academy was named after him: Puskás Academy was born.
Orbán shared his vision of the whole organization after the opening ceremony: “It’s unreasonable to think that Felcsút should have a team in the top division. We should not flatter ourselves, our players and our supporters with this dream. Our long term ambition is the creation of a stable second division team that excels in youth development and provides opportunity for the talents of the future.” Let’s leave that there.

Part 2: No stadium left behind

Orbán became PM once again in April 2010 after a landslide victory that pretty much granted him unlimited power. He chased lots of political agendas but one of his policies was rock solid: he would revive sports (and especially football) that was left to bleed out by the previous governments. The football situation in 2010 was quite dire: while the national team has actually made some progress in the recent years and has reached the 42nd position in the world rankings, football infrastructure was in a catastrophic state. Teams were playing in rusty stadiums built in the communist era, club finances were a mess, youth teams couldn’t find training grounds and the league was plagued by violent fan groups and lackluster attendance figures (3100 average spectators per game in the 2009/2010 season).
Orbán – aided by the FA backed by business actors very interested in making him happy – saw the future in the total rebuild of the football infrastructure. Vast amounts of state development funds were invested into the football construction industry that warmly welcomed corruption, cost escalation and shady procurement deals. In the end, money triumphed: over the last decade, new stadiums sprung out from nothing all over the country, dozens of new academies opened and pitches for youth development appeared on practically every corner. The final piece of the stadium renovation program was the completion of the new national stadium, Puskás Aréna in 2019 (estimated cost: 575 million EUR). Orbán commemorated this historic moment with a celebratory video on his social media that features a majestic shot of Orbán modestly kicking a CGI ball from his office to the new stadium.
Obviously, Orbán understood that infrastructure alone won’t suffice. He believed in the idea that successful clubs are the cornerstone of a strong national side as these clubs would compete in a high quality national league (and in international tournaments) that would require a constant influx of youth players developed by the clubs themselves. However, Orbán was not really keen on sharing the state’s infinite wealth with private club owners who failed to invest in their clubs between 2002 and 2010. The club ownership takeover was not that challenging as previous owners were usually happy to cut their losses, and soon enough most clubs came under Orbán’s influence. Some clubs were integrated deep into Orbán’s reach (Ferencváros and MTK Budapest club presidents are high ranking officials of Orbán’s party) while in other cases, indirect control was deemed sufficient (Diósgyőri VTK was purchased by a businessman as an attempt to display loyalty to Orbán).
Pouring taxpayer money into infrastructure (stadium) projects is relatively easy: after all, we are basically talking about overpriced government construction projects, there’s nothing new there. On the other hand, allocating funds to clubs that should be operating on a competitive market is certainly a tougher nut to crack. The obvious solutions were implemented: the state media massively overpaid for broadcasting rights and the national sports betting agency also pays a hefty sum to the FA, allowing for a redistribution of considerable amounts. However, given that the income side of Hungarian clubs was basically non-existent (match day income is negligible, the failed youth development system does not sell players), an even more radical solution was desperately needed. Also, there was definite interest in the development of a tool that would allow for differentiation between clubs (as in the few remaining non-government affiliated clubs should not receive extra money).
The solution came in 2011: the so-called TAO (“társasági adó” = corporate tax) system was introduced, granting significant tax deductions for companies if they offered a portion of their profits to sports clubs – however, in theory, funds acquired through TAO can be only used for youth development and infrastructure purposes. Soon enough, it became apparent that state authorities were not exactly interested in the enforcement of these restrictions, so some very basic creative accounting measures enabled clubs to use this income for anything they wanted to. Companies were naturally keen on cutting their tax burdens and scoring goodwill with the government, so TAO money immediately skyrocketed. Opportunistic party strongmen used their influence to convince local business groups to invest in the local clubs, enabling for the meteoric rise of multiple unknown provincial teams (Mezőkövesd [pop: 16,000], Kisvárda [pop: 16,000], Balmazújváros [pop: 17,000]) into the first division.
Although it’s not the main subject of this piece, I feel inclined to show you the actual results of Orbán’s grandiose football reform. While we do have our beautiful stadiums, we don’t exactly get them filled – league attendance has stagnated around 3000 spectators per game throughout the whole decade. We couldn’t really move forward with our national team either: Hungary lost 10 positions in the FIFA World Rankings throughout Orbán’s ten years. On the other hand, the level of league has somewhat improved – Videoton and Ferencváros reached the Europa League group stage in 2019 and 2020, respectively. Too bad that the Instat-based top team of 2019/2020 Hungarian league consists of 10 foreigners and only 1 Hungarian: the goalkeeper.

Part 3: Small place, big game!

As seen in the previous chapter, Orbán did have a strong interest in the improvement of the football situation Hungary, but we shouldn’t forget that his deepest interest and true loyalty laid in the wellbeing of Felcsút and its academy. Now that Orbán had limitless means to see to the advancement of his beloved club, he got to work immediately. Orbán handed over formal club management duties to his friend / protégé / middleman / businessman Lőrinc Mészáros in 2010, but no questions would ever arise of who is actually calling the shots.
First of all, no club can exist without a proper stadium. Although in 2011 Orbán explicitly stated that “Felcsút does not need a stadium as stadiums belong to cities”, no one was really surprised in 2012 when the construction of the Felcsút stadium was announced. Orbán was generous enough to donate the lands just in front of his summer home in the village for the project, locating the entrance a mere ten meters away from his residence. Construction works for the stunningly aesthetic 3,800-seater arena (in a village of 1,800 people) started in April 2012 and were completed in April 2014, making Felcsút’s arena the second new stadium of Orbán’s gigantic stadium revival program.
The estimated budget of the construction was 120 million EUR (31,500 EUR / seat) was financed by the Puskás Academy who explicitly stated that they did not use government funds for the project. Technically, this statement is absolutely true as the construction was financed through the TAO money offered by the numerous companies looking for tax deduction and Orbán’s goodwill. However, technically, this means that the country’s budget was decreased by 120 million EUR unrealized tax revenue. Naturally, the gargantuan football stadium looks ridiculously out of place in the small village, but there’s really no other way to ensure that your favorite team’s stadium is within 20 seconds of walking distance from your home.
Obviously, a proper club should also have some glorious history. Felcsút was seriously lagging behind on this matter as though Felcsút FC was founded in 1931, it spent its pre-Orbán history in the uninspiring world of the 5th-7th leagues of the country. Luckily enough, Orbán had already secured Puskás’ naming rights and they were not afraid to use it, so Felcsút FC was renamed to Puskás Academy FC in 2009. The stadium name was a little bit problematic as the Hungarian national stadium in Budapest had sadly had the dibs on Puskás’ name, so they had to settle with Puskás’ Spanish nickname, resulting in the inauguration of the Pancho Arena. But why stop here? Orbán’s sports media strongman György Szöllősi acted upon the contract with Puskás’ widow and transferred all Puskás’ personal memorabilia (medals, jerseys, correspondence) to the most suitable place of all: a remote village in which Puskás never even set foot in.
While the off-field issues were getting resolved, Orbán’s attention shifted to another important area: the actual game of football. Although academy players started to graduate from 2008 on, it very soon became painfully obvious that the academy program couldn’t really maintain even a second division side for now. In 2009, Orbán reached an agreement with nearby Videoton’s owner that effectively transformed Felcsút FC into Videoton’s second team under the name of Videoton – Puskás Akadémia FC. The mutually beneficent agreement would allow Videoton to give valuable playing time to squad players while it could also serve as a skipping step for Puskás Academy’s fresh graduates to a first league team. The collaboration resulted in two mid-table finishes and a bronze medal in the second division in the following three seasons that wasn’t really impressive compared to Felcsút FC’s standalone seasons.
It seemed that the mixture of reserve Videoton players and academy youth was simply not enough for promotion, and although Orbán had assured the public multiple times that his Felcsút project was not aiming for the top flight, very telling changes arose after the 2011/2012 season. Felcsút terminated the Videoton cooperation deal and used the rapidly accumulating TAO funds to recruit experienced players for the now independently operating Puskás Academy FC (PAFC). The new directive worked almost too well: PAFC won its division with a 10 point lead in its first standalone year which meant that they would have to appear in the first league prior to the completion of their brand-new Pancho Arena. Too bad that this glorious result had almost nothing to do with the academy - only two players were academy graduates of the side’s regular starting XI.
Orbán did not let himself bothered with the ridiculousness of an academy team with virtually no academy players being promoted to the first division as he stated that “a marathon runner shouldn’t need to explain why the other runners were much slower than him”. Orbán also displayed a rare burst of modesty as he added that “his team’s right place is not in the first league, and they will soon be overtaken by other, better sides”.
The promotion of PAFC to the first division made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move. Supporter groups were united in hatred all along the league and not surprisingly, away fans almost always outnumbered the home side at PAFC’s temporary home at Videoton’s Sóstói Stadium (demolished and rebuilt in its full glory since then). One of the teams, however, possessed an extraordinary degree of anger against PAFC: supporters of Budapest Honvéd – the only Hungarian team in which Ferenc Puskás played – felt especially awkward about the transfer of their club legend’s heritage to Felcsút. Tensions spiked at the PAFC – Honvéd game when home security forced Honvéd supporters to remove the “Puskás” part of their traditional “Puskás – Kispest – Hungary” banner – the team answered the insult with style as they secured a 4-0 victory supported by fans chanting “you can’t buy legends”.
Despite Orbán’s prognosis, other better sides did not rush to overtake his team, so PAFC, now residing in their brand new Pancho Arena, came through with a 14th and a 10th place in their first two seasons. Naturally, conspiracy theories began to formulate, speculating that government-friendly owners would certainly not be motivated to give their best against PAFC. However, as the league size was reduced to 12 for the 2015/2016 season, PAFC found themselves in a dire situation just before the final round: they needed a win and needed rival Vasas to lose against MTK in order to avoid relegation. PAFC’s draw seemed to be unlucky as they faced their arch-enemy Honvéd at home, but Honvéd displayed an absolute lackluster effort – fueling conspiracy theories – and lost the fixture 2 to 1 against a home side featuring four academy players. Vasas, however, did not disappoint, their 2-0 victory resulted in PAFC’s elimination and a very relaxed sigh all over the football community.
PAFC’s relegation seemed to be in accordance with Orbán’s 2013 statement, so public opinion supposed for a while that Orbán’s project came to a halting point and the Academy would go on to actually field academy players in the second division (especially as rostering foreign players was prohibited in the lower leagues). However, if you have read through this point, you know better than to expect Orbán to retreat – obviously, PAFC came back with a bang. With a ballsy move, PAFC didn’t even sell their foreign players, they just loaned them across the league, promising them that they would be able to return next year to the newly promoted team. The promise was kept as PAFC went into another shopping spree of experienced players (easily convincing lots of them to choose the second division instead of the first) and easily won the second league.
Orbán – now aware of his negligence – opted for the doubling the team’s budget, making PAFC the third most well-founded club in the whole country (only coming short to his friend’s Videoton and his party minion’s Ferencváros). With an actual yearly influx from TAO money in the ballpark of 30-40 million EUR, PAFC management had to really work wonders in creative accounting in order to make their money look somewhat legitimate. The books were now full of ridiculous items like:

Construction of a new tea kitchen for youth players for 650,000 EUR
Construction of a new “sports and conference center” for 40 million EUR
Employment of a 45 person “cleaning and maintenance staff” for the academy.

Naturally, in the country of no consequences, absolutely nothing happened: PAFC went on with its spending and signed 35 foreigners between 2017 and 2020. They did so because they could not hope to field a winning team in the first league consisting of academy players, despite the fact that Puskás Academy has been literally drowning in money since 2007. This seems to somewhat contradict Orbán’s 2013 promise, stating that “Puskás Academy will graduate two or three players to major European leagues each year”. To be fair, there have been players who managed to emerge to Europe (well, exactly two of them: Roland Sallai plays at Freiburg, László Kleinheisler played at Werder Bremen) but most academy graduates don’t even have the slightest the chance to make their own academy’s pro team as it’s full of foreigners and more experienced players drawn for other teams’ programs.
Despite their unlimited funding, PAFC could not put up a top-tier performance in their first two years back in the first division, finishing 6th and 7th in the 12-team league. Many speculated that the lack of support, motivation and even a clear team mission did not allow for chemistry to develop within the multinational and multi-generational locker room. Consistency was also a rare sight on the coaching side: club management was absolutely impatient with coaches who were very easily released after a single bad spell and there were talks of on-field micromanagement request coming from as high as Orbán.
Even so, their breakthrough came dangerously close in 2018 as PAFC performed consistently well in the cup fixtures and managed to reach the final. Their opponent, Újpest played an incredibly fierce game and after a 2-2 draw, they managed to defeat PAFC in the shootout. Football fans sighed in relief throughout the country as ecstatic Újpest supporters verbally teased a visibly upset Orbán in his VIP lounge about his loss.
Obviously, we could only delay the inevitable. While this year’s PAFC side seemed to be more consistent than its predecessors, it seemed that they won’t be able to get close to the podium - they were far behind the obvious league winner duo of Ferencváros and Videoton and were trailing third-place Mezőkövesd 6 points just before the pandemic break. However, both Mezőkövesd and PAFC’s close rivals DVTK and Honvéd fall flat after the restart while PAFC was able to maintain its good form due to its quality roster depth. PAFC overtook Mezőkövesd after the second-to-last round as Mezőkövesd lost to the later relegated Debrecen side. (Mezőkövesd coach Attila Kuttor was fined harshly because of his post-game comments on how the FA wants PAFC to finish third.)
PAFC faced Honvéd in the last round once again, and as Honvéd came up with its usual lackluster effort, PAFC secured an effortless win, confidently claiming the third place. PAFC celebrated their success in a nearly empty stadium, however neither Orbán, nor Mészáros (club owner, Orbán’s protégé, now 4th richest man of Hungary) seemed to worry about that. While Orbán high-fived with his peers in the VIP lounge, Mészáros was given the opportunity to award the bronze medals (and for some reason, a trophy) to the players dressed up in the incredibly cringe worthy T-shirts that say “Small place, big game!”. Big game, indeed: in the 2019/2020 season, foreign players’ share of the teams playing time was 43.6% while academy graduates contributed only 17.9%.
On Sunday evening, less than 24 hours after PAFC’s glorious success, György Szöllősi, now editor-in-chief of Hungary’s only sports newspaper (purchased by Orbán’s affiliates a few years back) published an editorial on the site, stating that “the soccer rebuild in Felcsút became the motor and symbol of the revitalization of sport throughout the whole country”. Well, Szöllősi is exactly right: Felcsút did became a symbol, but a symbol of something entirely different. Felcsút became a symbol of corruption, inefficiency, lies and the colossal waste of money. But, hey, at least we know now: you only need to spend 200 million EUR (total budget of PAFC and its academy in the 2011-2020 period) if you want to have a Europa League team in your backyard. Good to know!

Epilogue: What's in the future?

As there is no foreseeable chance for political change to happen Hungary (Orbán effortlessly secured qualified majority in 2014 and 2018, and is projected to do so in 2022 as well), PAFC’s future seems to be as bright as it gets. Although consensus opinion now seems to assume that Orbán does not intend to interfere with the Ferencváros – Videoton hegemony, we can never be really sure about the exact limits of his greed. One could also argue that entering the European theater serves as a prime opportunity for making splashy transfers who could be the cornerstones of a side challenging the league title.
However, as all political systems are deemed to fall, eventually Orbán’s regime will come apart. Whoever will take upon the helm after Orbán, they will certainly begin with cutting back on the one item on Orbán’s agenda that never had popular support: limitless football spending. Puskás Academy, having next to zero market revenue, will not be able to survive without the state’s life support, so the club will fold very shortly. The abandoned, rotting stadium in Felcsút will serve as a memento of a powerful man who could not understand the true spirit of football.
But let’s get back to present day, as we have more pressing issues coming up soon: PAFC will play their first European match in the First qualifying round of the Europa League on 27 August. We don’t have a date for the draw yet, but soon enough, a team unaware of the whole situation will be selected to face the beast. I hope that maybe one of their players does some research and maybe reads this very article for inspiration. I hope that the supporters of this club get in touch with Honvéd fans who would be eager to provide them with some tips on appropriate chants. I hope that other teams gets drawn as the home team so Orbán wouldn’t get the pleasure of walking to his stadium for an international match. But most importantly, I very much hope that this team obliterates PAFC and wipes them off the face of the earth. 5-0 will suffice, thank you.
And if this team fails to do that, we don’t have to worry yet. Due to our shitty league coefficient, PAFC would need to win four fixtures in a row. And that – if there’s any justice in this world – is a thing that can’t, that won’t happen. Ball don’t lie – if I may say.
TL,DR
Hungarian PM Viktor Orbán redirected some 200 million EUR of taxpayer money over 10 years to fuel his ambition of raising a competitive football team in his hometown of 1,800 people. He built a 3,800-seater stadium in his backyard, expropriated football legend Ferenc Puskás’ trademarks and heritage and built up a football league where almost all clubs are owned by his trustees. His team, Puskás Akadémia FC was originally intended to be a development ground for youth players graduating from Orbán’s football academy, but eventually the team became more and more result-orianted. Finally, a roster full of foreign and non-academy players came through and finished third in the league, releasing this abomination of a team to the European football theatre. Please, knock them out asap!

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