I’m back after a nice long week of doing a whole lotta nothing; I spent the last week in the environs of the DolnÃ Berounka river barbecuing incessantly, catching up on back issues of the New Yorker, walking through forests and going more or less cold turkey on the Internet.
I rode my bike back to Kafkaville last night to find that a bomb went off outside the kinda-creepy-anyway Royal Casino on Na přÃkopě, luckily with no fatalities.
1) Seeing as the real estate on Na přÃkopě is some of the most expensive in the world, I wonder if this incident will have any effect on the already-bloated prices. Also, could the Na přÃkopě retailers’ association, if they so decided, move to push the Casino Royal out?
2) Gross and his people are trying to downplay the significance of the blast, saying that it was merely a couple of goodfellas settling scores. But the association of your capital city’s priciest real estate with mafia guys gone rampant can’t be good for an already light tourist year. Saying, “well, at least it wasn’t Al Qaeda,” isn’t going to do much.
Oh, and now for the real news: Iveta BartoÅ¡ovÃ¡ is broke, Blesk reported on Saturday. Blesk obviously smells blood. Or is this just the latest chapter in her Perils of Pauline tale?
This brings the Blesk Iveta count to 114, in case anybody’s counting.