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Bandwiches: AC/DC:  Beer-battered kangaroo sausage, sliced hard-boiled egg, low-calorie port cheese, Dutch crunch. Black Sabbath:  Ham, stilton,  LSD  mustard, milled wheat bread. Thin Lizzy:  Chopped sausage, mincemeat, Jameson-shiitake reduction, soda bread. The Beatles:  Beef, ham, chicken, lamb, fondue sauce, dinner roll. Wings:  Sliced vegan haggis, wilted arugula, aged soy cheddar, rice bread. Led Zeppelin:  Arum sandwich with hummus, lettuce, 22 thin-sliced deli meats; side of Colman’s mustard. Bob Dylan:  Scrapple, melted pepper jack, hemp-seed garlic bread. The Pogues:  Gin-fed lamb, whiskey-marinated turkey, beer-braised pork shoulder, mustard, soda bread. Van Halen:  Grilled 17-cheese sandwich on white bread; side of nacho cheese soup. Ted Nugent:  Cubed Grizzly bear, white buffalo brisket, unicorn haunch, Jim Beam barbecue sauce, white bread. The Jimi Hendrix Experience:  Bacon-double ...

AN OPEN LETTER TO EVERYONE WHO, WHEN MY FIANCÉ LEFT ME, TOLD ME IT WAS “HIS LOSS.” BY  MEGAN VAN LOH - - - - Dear Everyone, The person I love most in the entire world has left me. Gone. Vanished. And the real kicker here folks—he left by choice. You all know this and yet you still say it’s “his loss.” As if that is supposed to make me feel better, console me; make me the “bigger person.” It does none of the above because the truth of the matter is: I  have  experienced a loss. Losses and wins involve points, am I correct? Let’s think about the situation and see where the points should be awarded. Are we all in agreement that the loss goes to the person with the least amount of points? Good. Let’s begin: Since it was his choice to leave me, and I had no say in the matter—actually I wasn’t even warned it was coming (or going, as was the case), or given the opportunity to work on things or speak with a third party—I’d say that’s 1 point him, 0 points me....

and this is just Lisbon, there's Porto too, and the world...