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There was so much enthusiasm when De Volkskrant started this facility: Vox populi, a newly found spring of fresh ideas to be released by the millions. A new hope that the people, WE RTHE PEOPLE, will eventually triumph over bureaucracy and the vulgar might of Mammon.
The hope that they, the ones atop the social strata will take head what do the people think and how do they feel.
Things changed, didn't they.
The volkskrantblog interface is now splashed with these eyesore reds. A new layout means that new kids are in. This, for me, implies that people of different, if not plain lesser aggressive, esthetic attitudes are in command. In substance, eventually, nothing changed.
This blogging facility is just as lame and disregarded by the society at large as it was. The people, simply, failed to embrace the blog and do not aim to transform it into a mighty tool of democracy. Not that individuals did not try to extend issues for a wide debate. No. The bloggers have been trying.
The establishment continues treating the blogs and the bloggers as marginal. The bloggers need to associate themselves with the lawyers and push their issues to the courts and what you call here to the "officiers van justitie". The social science, the universities need to produce, eventually, well researched papers about the scope, about the effects of the Dutch blogging. I would expect that Volkskrant would sooner rather than later pay for such research.
I am so badly pissed off.
And Jack is not araound and we are all older and more tired.
Such a disappointment.
This situation is slowly becoming insane.
We have now the laughing hyenas, the plain-day robbers, their brethren the long-fingered thieves and the ubiquitous vultures of beastly kingdom of finance deep in the Jungle of Greed circling in ever decreasing altitude on the hill called Capitol to claw, bluff and cajole extension of their license to keep their usual victims as slaves who will provide them with chunks of flesh.
Besides the US the whole world appears to be in perilous danger.
All the world has figured up till now that this situation the humanity is faced with in a form of a profound crisis was deliberate and man-made. The usurers had lent money wrapped in tricky banker's language to unsuspecting victims. They did so not with intention to earn normal, God-given interest-rates but with a plan to rob those borrowers of everything. Move few levers, press a couple of buttons and the conditions change, the collateral is repossessed and the show goes on.
But the show cannot go on. It cannot because the vultures have sold again the obligations and promises of the poor borrowers to pay for their loans. And then sold those papers again and again. For their insane profits, for their insane bonuses, for their insane style of the immoral lives they lived in the Jungle of Greed.
In short, those loan-extending institutions were not bona-fide honest-to-God investors but rogue, conspiratorial enterprises of the Big Money.
They relied on only one thin line of presumption that, they thought, guarantees the speculative returns of their bait, well camouflaged, disguised and extended in the form of normal credit. That presumption was that the lawmakers will send the brutal force of the Police and the National Guard in needed to evict, read: rob, the unsuspecting public so that their show could go on. That is why we have all this lobbying on Capitol Hill and the congressmen and senators swaying, watering the bills sent by the Administration for them to build on and help clear this big mess.
Now, if the brutal force is indeed sent down the line to enact the evictions, repossess the households appliance and durable goods, whatever - will that save the economy? Of course not. Then, why even think of evicting people and taking their beds, stoves and cars when there is no chance that anybody would buy them? Thus, why this threat, why not intuce a little peace of mind for all these American families? It is insane that these vultures want to keep the millions of people living under heavy in stress.
The government could have guaranteed all the default mortgages on the houses build in the US between 2000 and 2006 with much, much less moneys than extended already to the big banks and sharks behind them. And again they are happy because they are stopped from paying themselves those ludicrous bonuses. They want to go on, like this wretched character Shylock invented by old Bill Shakespeare wanted to get his pound of flesh. OK, but not a drop of American blood, jackals.
This means go ahead and try to repossess but no Police and no National Guard behind you. Only furiously angry cheated fellow countrymen and women with a constitutional right to own and bear arms to protect their livelihoods.
That is to where this insane pressure for more government or anybody's money leads to.
That attitude must be stopped.
We have now the laughing hyenas, the plain-day robbers, their brethren the long-fingered thieves and the ubiquitous vultures of beastly kingdom of finance deep in the Jungle of Greed circling in ever decreasing altitude on the hill called Capitol to claw, bluff and cajole extension of their license to keep their usual victims as slaves who will provide them with chunks of flesh.
Besides the US the whole world appears to be in perilous danger.
All the world has figured up till now that this situation the humanity is faced with in a form of a profound crisis was deliberate and man-made. The usurers had lent money wrapped in tricky banker's language to unsuspecting victims. They did so not with intention to earn normal, God-given interest-rates but with a plan to rob those borrowers of everything. Move few levers, press a couple of buttons and the conditions change, the collateral is repossessed and the show goes on.
But the show cannot go on. It cannot because the vultures have sold again the obligations and promises of the poor borrowers to pay for their loans. And then sold those papers again and again. For their insane profits, for their insane bonuses, for their insane style of the immoral lives they lived in the Jungle of Greed.
In short, those loan-extending institutions were not bona-fide honest-to-God investors but rogue, conspiratorial enterprises of the Big Money.
They relied on only one thin line of presumption that, they thought, guarantees the speculative returns of their bait, well camouflaged, disguised and extended in the form of normal credit. That presumption was that the lawmakers will send the brutal force of the Police and the National Guard in needed to evict, read: rob, the unsuspecting public so that their show could go on. That is why we have all this lobbying on Capitol Hill and the congressmen and senators swaying, watering the bills sent by the Administration for them to build on and help clear this big mess.
Now, if the brutal force is indeed sent down the line to enact the evictions, repossess the households appliance and durable goods, whatever - will that save the economy? Of course not. Then, why even think of evicting people and taking their beds, stoves and cars when there is no chance that anybody would buy them? Thus, why this threat, why not intuce a little peace of mind for all these American families? It is insane that these vultures want to keep the millions of people living under heavy in stress.
The government could have guaranteed all the default mortgages on the houses build in the US between 2000 and 2006 with much, much less moneys than extended already to the big banks and sharks behind them. And again they are happy because they are stopped from paying themselves those ludicrous bonuses. They want to go on, like this wretched character Shylock invented by old Bill Shakespeare wanted to get his pound of flesh. OK, but not a drop of American blood, jackals.
This means go ahead and try to repossess but no Police and no National Guard behind you. Only furiously angry cheated fellow countrymen and women with a constitutional right to own and bear arms to protect their livelihoods.
That is to where this insane pressure for more government or anybody's money leads to.
That attitude must be stopped.
You have been left unattended for quite some time and look what
you've allowed to happen.
A mess.
The Fat Cats have fouled the whole place.
Only two nights ago, appearing at the Paul&Wittemna show the fat Dr. Arnout Henricus Elisabeth Maria (Nout) Wellink displayed such an cynical arrogance and disdain for the public at large I have not seen for a very, very long time indeed. The two pour interviewers looked like confused, awed bunnies in front of a big, fat bellied heavy wolf who treated them as little piggies he could but would not eat right away. All this was readable from the faces of those three protagonists of the show.
All this was audible from the questions meekly asked and responses vaguely and obliquely extended.
The boss of the Dutch central bank said that no stress test was needed for the banks in the Netherlands. He was adamant that even if there was one - the results could not be made public.
He was not concerned with the reaction of the Dutch public, he does not care about it, but thought that Europe is not ready for such a stress test as the Americans have exercised.
Such an attitude is in line with the refusal of the establishment for transparency and accountability and the medieval attitude to continue treating the Dutch people as a herd of cattle.
It was a sorrow show.
The governor or president of the Nederlandsche Bank is a third rate banker. His behavior yesterday was disgusting.
He not only refused, he ridiculed the journalists and the public about their right to know everything about the bonuses distributed from the public purse among the top echelons of the bankrupt Dutch banking system.
Such bewildering shamelessness in defense of the greed of the bankers for unearned moneys is intolerable. He did not argue he declared that the bankers who performed dismally must be paid huge salaries and bonuses otherwise they will go elsewhere. So what? And where will they go when they produce losses and enormous mess?
This guy does not understand the situation for which he personally though partially is responsible.
He was paid big fat salary for overseeing the banks and stopping them do what they did.
He should be fired by the parliament not rewarded. If he had morals he should have resigned by now because he presided over the crippling of the Dutch banking community.
Such a performance and the last night's attitude must cost him his job.
PS I have read the post by our respected colleague PACO PAINTER dedicated to this same event.
Paco points to what may be a speech deficiency of this stuffed ambtenaar who is far too long in the same place. I agree that:
Een brij van nietszeggendheid stroomt schaamteloos uit zijn mond.
But it is something different when Paco illustrates the answers with transcribing this man's pronunciation.
‘Hoe zien de kwartaalcijfers van de ING eruit meneer Wellink?' ‘Daaj kan ik niet ovej prati. Maaj op jaajbasis hoevi wij ons geen zojgi te maki'
Neither I agree with this sort of ridicule.
Noud Wellink heeft het intussen over gjafieki en het niet publiek maki van de stjess-test. Want de stjess-test kan zomaaj tot een vejsnelling van de rally in bankaandelen zojgen, whatever that means.
The point is that the attitude of this guy requires public scorn and Government demise.
A mess.
The Fat Cats have fouled the whole place.
Only two nights ago, appearing at the Paul&Wittemna show the fat Dr. Arnout Henricus Elisabeth Maria (Nout) Wellink displayed such an cynical arrogance and disdain for the public at large I have not seen for a very, very long time indeed. The two pour interviewers looked like confused, awed bunnies in front of a big, fat bellied heavy wolf who treated them as little piggies he could but would not eat right away. All this was readable from the faces of those three protagonists of the show.
All this was audible from the questions meekly asked and responses vaguely and obliquely extended.
The boss of the Dutch central bank said that no stress test was needed for the banks in the Netherlands. He was adamant that even if there was one - the results could not be made public.
He was not concerned with the reaction of the Dutch public, he does not care about it, but thought that Europe is not ready for such a stress test as the Americans have exercised.
Such an attitude is in line with the refusal of the establishment for transparency and accountability and the medieval attitude to continue treating the Dutch people as a herd of cattle.
It was a sorrow show.
The governor or president of the Nederlandsche Bank is a third rate banker. His behavior yesterday was disgusting.
He not only refused, he ridiculed the journalists and the public about their right to know everything about the bonuses distributed from the public purse among the top echelons of the bankrupt Dutch banking system.
Such bewildering shamelessness in defense of the greed of the bankers for unearned moneys is intolerable. He did not argue he declared that the bankers who performed dismally must be paid huge salaries and bonuses otherwise they will go elsewhere. So what? And where will they go when they produce losses and enormous mess?
This guy does not understand the situation for which he personally though partially is responsible.
He was paid big fat salary for overseeing the banks and stopping them do what they did.
He should be fired by the parliament not rewarded. If he had morals he should have resigned by now because he presided over the crippling of the Dutch banking community.
Such a performance and the last night's attitude must cost him his job.
PS I have read the post by our respected colleague PACO PAINTER dedicated to this same event.
Paco points to what may be a speech deficiency of this stuffed ambtenaar who is far too long in the same place. I agree that:
Een brij van nietszeggendheid stroomt schaamteloos uit zijn mond.
But it is something different when Paco illustrates the answers with transcribing this man's pronunciation.
‘Hoe zien de kwartaalcijfers van de ING eruit meneer Wellink?' ‘Daaj kan ik niet ovej prati. Maaj op jaajbasis hoevi wij ons geen zojgi te maki'
Neither I agree with this sort of ridicule.
Noud Wellink heeft het intussen over gjafieki en het niet publiek maki van de stjess-test. Want de stjess-test kan zomaaj tot een vejsnelling van de rally in bankaandelen zojgen, whatever that means.
The point is that the attitude of this guy requires public scorn and Government demise.
Rizla Ruilen Beurse in Amstelveen Groot Success: Prachtige Dag, Zon en Fun
zaterdag 18 april 2009 23:56
We were not many, but we did gather in the heart of Amstelveen
under a glorious sun, had couple of beers and exchanged, ruiled,
the Corvette Stingray onderdelen with hopes that one of us will get
the great automobile in this RIZLA sponsored contest. It was
fun.
Actually, it was a great fun.
The picture above was taken by Fred van der Kroon's charming partner. He was the most enthusiastic to get the Corvette, this specific one. He had always wanted to ride it and long time ago had a neighbor who had one and begged him to let Fred have a ride around the block but the neighbor was a pig who would not consent. I promised both of them to give them the car to have a ride by themselves around the whole country if I got it. Fred added:
-And a bit in Germany , they have no speed limits out there.
That is how it is. You give someone a finger and the guy grabs the whole hand. But OK, I'd give him the car to ride to Dusseldorf and back.
On the other side Alex, on the left, gave me a pile of onderdelen for nothing, he is a heavy smoker and had so very many which he did not feel he will need in building a fifth or sixth set. They have 4-5 sets already and I was the poorest of them with not one completed yet. But it was superb fun.
We have enough ime to organize one more "ruilen beurs" next month and a final one in June.
Actually, it was a great fun.
The picture above was taken by Fred van der Kroon's charming partner. He was the most enthusiastic to get the Corvette, this specific one. He had always wanted to ride it and long time ago had a neighbor who had one and begged him to let Fred have a ride around the block but the neighbor was a pig who would not consent. I promised both of them to give them the car to have a ride by themselves around the whole country if I got it. Fred added:
-And a bit in Germany , they have no speed limits out there.
That is how it is. You give someone a finger and the guy grabs the whole hand. But OK, I'd give him the car to ride to Dusseldorf and back.
On the other side Alex, on the left, gave me a pile of onderdelen for nothing, he is a heavy smoker and had so very many which he did not feel he will need in building a fifth or sixth set. They have 4-5 sets already and I was the poorest of them with not one completed yet. But it was superb fun.
We have enough ime to organize one more "ruilen beurs" next month and a final one in June.
With hundreds,
or maybe thousand, or even hundreds of thousands of other Dutch and
international enthusiasts my grandson and I are building a relic
automobile, a Chevrolet Corvette Stingray C3 '75
machine. This is all game, of course.Before I let my
grandson Christian learn about the automobile I got from him a
solemn promise that he will neither smoke nor consume alcohol till
he was 18 years of age.
That was his his own declaration. He knows that if people drink - they do not ride a car. An since he is asthmatic, he knows that I do not light a cigarette in either the car when he is with me nor at home but go out for a fag.
[R]Thus, the arrangement was fixed and I let him come to the site of RIZLA where I have, like everybody who participates in the game, a garage. There we are playing a game of building the Corvette ourselves and learning the parts of the chassis, body and the interieur. It is fun. The "building" of the body and the whole concept of the game is created by RIZLA, world known producer of quality gummed papers for rolling. Since we need parts (printed on those little orange boxes containing the rolling paper) that we miss, we shall have a gathering of enthusiasts on Saturday 18 April at 12:00 in the Cafe Beau Monde on the great plain in the heart of Amstelveen, right opposite of the public library where we often pass interesting hours in company of books. My grandson still, prefers the bookstore Scheltema in downtown Amsterdam because it is really a great fun and there is a small restaurant where we go through the newest books while he has a cake and myself a cop of coffee.
[L]I expect to see a bunch of people in the Beau Monde this Saturday who will come to exchange (ruilen) their extra parts of the Stingray and enter the competition of building the Corvette by 15 of July this year. Then there will be a draw and of course we hope to win. I have sent this message about the public private gathering to Arvit Betlem, Hoef Hakker, Esther de Zeeuw, Cessie van Katwijk, Tom&Mieke, Hans 56, Koistra, H.J. van Weesp, Fred vd Kroon, Cynthia Korthuit and others but I hope many more will read this post and may join us having fun with the game.
Met een looptijd van veertien jaar is de C3 de langstlopende onder de Corvette generaties. Van 1968 tot 1982 was deze auto zeer populair onder de Amerikaanse weggebruikers. De Chevrolet Corvette Stingray C3: "The heartbeat of America."
Mijn kleinson en ik haven deze onderdelen claar vor ruilen:
Onderdeel nr 2. Luchtfilter
Onderdeel nr 2. Luchtfilter
Onderdeel nr 2. Luchtfilter
Onderdeel nr 4. Remschijven
Onderdeel nr 4. Remschijven
Onderdeel nr 8. Stuur
Onderdeel nr 15. Vorruit
Onderdeel nr 17. Koplampen
Onderdeel nr 18. Deuren
Onderdeel nr 18. Deuren
Onderdeel nr 18. Deuren
Onderdeel nr 18. Deuren
Onderdeel nr 19. Targatop
Wij missen deze:
Onderdeel nr 1. motor
Onderdeel nr 3. Wielen
Onderdeel nr 5. Uitlaat
Onderdeel nr 7. Vering
Onderdeel nr 10. Stoelen
Onderdeel nr 12. Vloermaten
Onderdeel nr 20. Spiegel
That was his his own declaration. He knows that if people drink - they do not ride a car. An since he is asthmatic, he knows that I do not light a cigarette in either the car when he is with me nor at home but go out for a fag.
[R]Thus, the arrangement was fixed and I let him come to the site of RIZLA where I have, like everybody who participates in the game, a garage. There we are playing a game of building the Corvette ourselves and learning the parts of the chassis, body and the interieur. It is fun. The "building" of the body and the whole concept of the game is created by RIZLA, world known producer of quality gummed papers for rolling. Since we need parts (printed on those little orange boxes containing the rolling paper) that we miss, we shall have a gathering of enthusiasts on Saturday 18 April at 12:00 in the Cafe Beau Monde on the great plain in the heart of Amstelveen, right opposite of the public library where we often pass interesting hours in company of books. My grandson still, prefers the bookstore Scheltema in downtown Amsterdam because it is really a great fun and there is a small restaurant where we go through the newest books while he has a cake and myself a cop of coffee.
[L]I expect to see a bunch of people in the Beau Monde this Saturday who will come to exchange (ruilen) their extra parts of the Stingray and enter the competition of building the Corvette by 15 of July this year. Then there will be a draw and of course we hope to win. I have sent this message about the public private gathering to Arvit Betlem, Hoef Hakker, Esther de Zeeuw, Cessie van Katwijk, Tom&Mieke, Hans 56, Koistra, H.J. van Weesp, Fred vd Kroon, Cynthia Korthuit and others but I hope many more will read this post and may join us having fun with the game.
Met een looptijd van veertien jaar is de C3 de langstlopende onder de Corvette generaties. Van 1968 tot 1982 was deze auto zeer populair onder de Amerikaanse weggebruikers. De Chevrolet Corvette Stingray C3: "The heartbeat of America."
Mijn kleinson en ik haven deze onderdelen claar vor ruilen:
Onderdeel nr 2. Luchtfilter
Onderdeel nr 2. Luchtfilter
Onderdeel nr 2. Luchtfilter
Onderdeel nr 4. Remschijven
Onderdeel nr 4. Remschijven
Onderdeel nr 8. Stuur
Onderdeel nr 15. Vorruit
Onderdeel nr 17. Koplampen
Onderdeel nr 18. Deuren
Onderdeel nr 18. Deuren
Onderdeel nr 18. Deuren
Onderdeel nr 18. Deuren
Onderdeel nr 19. Targatop
Wij missen deze:
Onderdeel nr 1. motor
Onderdeel nr 3. Wielen
Onderdeel nr 5. Uitlaat
Onderdeel nr 7. Vering
Onderdeel nr 10. Stoelen
Onderdeel nr 12. Vloermaten
Onderdeel nr 20. Spiegel
Hi there everybody. Long time no hear no see no write.
It just so happened that I got stuck with the old crowd out there in Skopje and slowly decided to find out whether my dismal performance here will replicate out there. Well, it did not although for a short while I faked I was there with them, then sort of said I got a scholarship in France and then eventually admitted I was in the Low Lands but they did not care. Got a huge readership out there and it is a different feeling.
But then, eventually, I live here in Amstelveen and I missed my Volkskrantblog. So, let me see whether I can do the both worlds.
Now, this is my today's post. Totally off/the big topics. Awful news. Plenty of time to catch up with those falling markets and sooting stars. I want to tell you about a new singer out there.
She has a sort of a voluminous organ and singing is not refined in the sense of being rebellious but she, that is Kristina Arnaudova, sounds mighty. Well, she sound mighty and fresh to the largest blogging community in the country and I thought you may be interested to hear her. Thus, here is her song HAUNTING MY HEART. Will be nice if you wrote what do you think about her.
She will be elated to have a chance to perform here.
AND HERE ARE THE WORDS OF THE SONG:
Haunting My Heart
Descending decisions.. at every turn in the road..
Forever defending.. some hand-me down spiritual code..
Is faith fed by fear, dear.. Could we be left without right..
Do you promise to meet me here..
to guide me through the tunnel of light..
and save me from night…
It always comes easy.. and it always leaves hard..
The shadows of “should be”..
Are the ghosts haunting my heart..
You know it ain’t easy.. to travel this far..
The shadows of “could be”..
Are the ghosts that live in the dark..
Haunting my heart…
Impending derision, with every risk that we take..
Devine imprecision, in every love that we make..
If pain pays the toll into heaven, then pleasure’s just a free ride to hell..
If deadly sins number seven, number eight must have some story to tell..
It always comes easy.. and it always leaves hard..
The shadows of “should be”..
Are the ghosts haunting my heart..
You know it ain’t easy.. to travel this far..
The shadows of “could be”..
Are the ghosts that live in the dark..
Haunting my heart…
music & lyrics: Chaze Lounge
arr: Chaze Lounge & Vladimir DojchinovSki
It just so happened that I got stuck with the old crowd out there in Skopje and slowly decided to find out whether my dismal performance here will replicate out there. Well, it did not although for a short while I faked I was there with them, then sort of said I got a scholarship in France and then eventually admitted I was in the Low Lands but they did not care. Got a huge readership out there and it is a different feeling.
But then, eventually, I live here in Amstelveen and I missed my Volkskrantblog. So, let me see whether I can do the both worlds.
Now, this is my today's post. Totally off/the big topics. Awful news. Plenty of time to catch up with those falling markets and sooting stars. I want to tell you about a new singer out there.
She has a sort of a voluminous organ and singing is not refined in the sense of being rebellious but she, that is Kristina Arnaudova, sounds mighty. Well, she sound mighty and fresh to the largest blogging community in the country and I thought you may be interested to hear her. Thus, here is her song HAUNTING MY HEART. Will be nice if you wrote what do you think about her.
She will be elated to have a chance to perform here.
AND HERE ARE THE WORDS OF THE SONG:
Haunting My Heart
Descending decisions.. at every turn in the road..
Forever defending.. some hand-me down spiritual code..
Is faith fed by fear, dear.. Could we be left without right..
Do you promise to meet me here..
to guide me through the tunnel of light..
and save me from night…
It always comes easy.. and it always leaves hard..
The shadows of “should be”..
Are the ghosts haunting my heart..
You know it ain’t easy.. to travel this far..
The shadows of “could be”..
Are the ghosts that live in the dark..
Haunting my heart…
Impending derision, with every risk that we take..
Devine imprecision, in every love that we make..
If pain pays the toll into heaven, then pleasure’s just a free ride to hell..
If deadly sins number seven, number eight must have some story to tell..
It always comes easy.. and it always leaves hard..
The shadows of “should be”..
Are the ghosts haunting my heart..
You know it ain’t easy.. to travel this far..
The shadows of “could be”..
Are the ghosts that live in the dark..
Haunting my heart…
music & lyrics: Chaze Lounge
arr: Chaze Lounge & Vladimir DojchinovSki
After months of meticulous planing including arrival and
departure times, searching and reserving every single of the best
least expensive accommodation in some 15-16 places in France and
Spain, we took off, on a Wednesday, in Macedonian superstitious
firmament the right day for good luck, this past September, for a
21-day tour.
All that planing and the trip itself plus the intensive blogging on my Macedonian site - kept me so very long away from you here. Now, I'll try to compensate.
Most of the stories and pics I have published in Macedonian. Now they will receive somewhat different handling.
Amstelveen - Waterloo - Chimay - Reims - Troyes - Dijon - Beaunne - Rgone Valley - Lyon - Avignon - Arles - Pont du Garde - Cap d'Agde - Pont du Milau - Narbonne - Carcassonne - Andorra - Rosas - Figueras - Lloret del Mar - Barcelona - Saragosa - San Sebastian - Biarritz - Bayonne - Pau - Lourdes - Sauternnee - Bordeaux - Cognac - Mont St Michel - Aromanches - Rouen - Arras - Lille - Amstelveen
FOR THE PAST 40 YEARS work and pleasure took me more than 40 times to Belgium and Brussels but I have never ever associated the Lion of Waterloo with the actual site of the battle which epythomizes defeat, with Wellington and Napoleon. Now it was firmly fixed on the itinerary and about two hours after leaving Amstelveen in a drizzling rain, we arrived, met by a victorious sunshine, right at the spot.
The pharaohs built pyramids on the plains of sand while here, a midst the fertile fields there is this huge pyramid covered with lush grass and a roaring, victorious lion in weathered dark green bronze atop the huge pile, perched on an impressive slab of marble.
One wonders how did they bring the metal lion up? And then, why? A message to France or to all the other ambitions to subdue Europe to a single idea?
I doubt that the little Hungarian immigrant now in the Elyse had ever climbed the 225 steps I painfully, puffing and sweating, conquer to pay tribute to all those involved, satisfy my curiosity and feed my vanity with yet another bite of "of course I was there" although nobody will ever care. Not at the end of this or any other latter day. Not even myself. There are only fields, hamlets and the hum of history.
But do go, if you ever have a chance, and climb the 45 degrees steep steps to the top. Do not miss the experience, pee on Manequin Piss, if you are ever in or around Brussels. Puff to the top of the Lion of Waterloo. I did not understand much when atop the pyramid, the tablets with the indication of the position of the clashing armies do not help much. But the price of the entrance to the site comprises a visit to the panoramic drawing of the Battle. THAT is a worthwhile experience. After all that you may decide to have a drink in the caffee across the street. There I have seen these very nice tits and that, alas, was all.
Throughout the year Waterloo and Brussels with the EU headquarters on Place Schuman is a great venue for one day excursion from as far as Amsterdam and I recommend it to any parents with kids older than 9-10, particularly for those of them who have not been there. It is probably the best inexpensive one-day excitement you may propose to half of the Netherlands.
All that planing and the trip itself plus the intensive blogging on my Macedonian site - kept me so very long away from you here. Now, I'll try to compensate.
Most of the stories and pics I have published in Macedonian. Now they will receive somewhat different handling.
Amstelveen - Waterloo - Chimay - Reims - Troyes - Dijon - Beaunne - Rgone Valley - Lyon - Avignon - Arles - Pont du Garde - Cap d'Agde - Pont du Milau - Narbonne - Carcassonne - Andorra - Rosas - Figueras - Lloret del Mar - Barcelona - Saragosa - San Sebastian - Biarritz - Bayonne - Pau - Lourdes - Sauternnee - Bordeaux - Cognac - Mont St Michel - Aromanches - Rouen - Arras - Lille - Amstelveen
FOR THE PAST 40 YEARS work and pleasure took me more than 40 times to Belgium and Brussels but I have never ever associated the Lion of Waterloo with the actual site of the battle which epythomizes defeat, with Wellington and Napoleon. Now it was firmly fixed on the itinerary and about two hours after leaving Amstelveen in a drizzling rain, we arrived, met by a victorious sunshine, right at the spot.
The pharaohs built pyramids on the plains of sand while here, a midst the fertile fields there is this huge pyramid covered with lush grass and a roaring, victorious lion in weathered dark green bronze atop the huge pile, perched on an impressive slab of marble.
One wonders how did they bring the metal lion up? And then, why? A message to France or to all the other ambitions to subdue Europe to a single idea?
I doubt that the little Hungarian immigrant now in the Elyse had ever climbed the 225 steps I painfully, puffing and sweating, conquer to pay tribute to all those involved, satisfy my curiosity and feed my vanity with yet another bite of "of course I was there" although nobody will ever care. Not at the end of this or any other latter day. Not even myself. There are only fields, hamlets and the hum of history.
But do go, if you ever have a chance, and climb the 45 degrees steep steps to the top. Do not miss the experience, pee on Manequin Piss, if you are ever in or around Brussels. Puff to the top of the Lion of Waterloo. I did not understand much when atop the pyramid, the tablets with the indication of the position of the clashing armies do not help much. But the price of the entrance to the site comprises a visit to the panoramic drawing of the Battle. THAT is a worthwhile experience. After all that you may decide to have a drink in the caffee across the street. There I have seen these very nice tits and that, alas, was all.
Throughout the year Waterloo and Brussels with the EU headquarters on Place Schuman is a great venue for one day excursion from as far as Amsterdam and I recommend it to any parents with kids older than 9-10, particularly for those of them who have not been there. It is probably the best inexpensive one-day excitement you may propose to half of the Netherlands.
I have a huge moral and logical problem
and I badly need the help of the blogging community,
the Police, the people of Phasantenbos BV or the Gemeente
or anybody because since yesterday I have lost a part of my inner peace.
Christian, my grandson, did not accompany me this morning to the Police station in Amstelveen although yesterday he said he wanted to. First of all, being only eight, he is too young to begin gathering life-experience from reporting crimes (aangifte te doen) to the Dutch police. Second, he was due for a day excursion to Duinreill with the kids from the "opvang centrum", a much more appropriate experience and third, I found the behavior of the police agents, though impressive in their uniforms and fully armed, pretty dull and far from friendly.
[L] So, I went alone and reported a theft.
Yesterday morning, Monday August 13th, we have discovered that a crucial part of our model-train set outfit was stolen. We were going to screw out the N-gauge rails, change the artificial grass cover, shape hills and glue new one over, let all that dry, and then continue with replacing the rails and setting the scenery for the model train Christian and I enjoyed so much. For an instant I thought that it was the cleaner who had collected the two joining planks thinking that they were here for throwing. The man collects, every Monday the black garbage bags some tenants leave in front of their apartment doors, a habit that I find demeaning for the cleaner and rather poor reflection on the people who would not take down their bags to the container next to the lift door. If left a night before, the small corridor stinks on rotten food and occasionally there is a a pool of liquid which spreads an awful stench for days after the bag was moved. So, we alerted his mother and Christian told her what happened. By the time I called the Phasantenbos BV - who send the cleaner to the building - I was told that my daughter had already requested immediate action and we should stay assured that they were doing their best to locate the cleaner, who was already out of the building, that they were going to call us back as soon as they had any news about "the two wooden planks".
The part of the Macedonian blood in the veins of my grandson was already boiling and he shouted (to me) that "those are not wood-planks, that is the basis of our model-train set." His Dutch part added "And that is a really expensive stuff, my best toy".
We concluded that the 7-storey building with six apartments each has a main door that is locked under key at all times and that nobody can get in unless a tenant opens the door or unless he or she has the key. Thus, our suddenly so very important part of the model-train set must have been removed by 1. Either a tenant or 2. The cleaner or by someone who could enter the building while the main door was open (a habit by servicing people who now and then come to work in the building invited by either the tenants or the care-taking Phasantenbos BV.
[L] My neighbors who live above our floor practically never go up on foot and very, very rarely descend using the stairs. There are two lifts servicing the house. The two planks were quite heavy, 5-layered all-weather speer-plats and I doubt that anybody would decide to just get away with them, especially when most of the neighbours are elderly people. Once you come out from any of the two lifts there are two doors each leading to a small corridor shared by three apartments. Thus, on the left side there are three single tenants who were not in the house yesterday morning. Two of the apartments on "my half" of the floor are empty and announced for sale. Thus: the neighbors of the fourth floor are bailed out. Somebody else must have entered the small glass-framed corridor, risked that he or she be heard and caught removing somebody else's stuff and taken it, dragged it, placed it in a lift and then either stashed it in one of the cellars or in a van (it is impossible to fit the any of the planks in a simple passenger car) risking also to be seen by any of the tenants or the idiot owner, that is myself, with unforeseen consequences thereafter.
You may easily imagine that building a model-train set complete with rails, switches, bridges, mountains, roads, train-stations, animals around pastures, tunnels and stuff - not to mention synchronizing two different gauge-sets, two different adapters, engines, trains, carriages and signalization - is a rather complex affair. It is rewarding, if executed with great attention to detail but it is nevertheless extremely time-and-money consuming past-time. Oh, it is probably one of the best vehicles of carrying an already well developed relationship between the generations to heavenly altitudes, as we have experienced that with Christian. Long before we ever came to buying the planks and the sets of model-trains we traveled to Rail 2004 in Leiden (my wife by car for the return leg) me and Christian (his first train ride ever) from RAI Station to Leiden on a double-decked train-carriage. Wow! And then, my stories to the kid.
[L] You would not dream that when I was only nine, my father and mother were being whacked in two different Gulags while I was a pioneer's railway station master back in Skopje. Playing with 75 cm narrow-gauge real trains, driving the engine, issuing real tickets for real money on a real train was my umbilical cord to sanity, a kind of a fairy tale that told me my parents have erred something and were put in prison while I, the good boy, We wore special, very high quality uniforms with gilded buttons, insignia, caps. What 8 and three-quarters track, what Harry Potter: we were real wizards and the other kids looked at us with eyes rolling with incredulity. We were handpicked from among the best pupils in town. I felt was allowed to drive a real train packed with real people and kids, I am trusted. The train ran about 8 km from the present City Hall to the river bank where my daughter has just bought a flat: roughly about the stretch from Amstelveen to Appololaan or eventually the Museumplein.
My grandson is too you to hear much of this. But, but model trains develop the imagination. One can go in economy or simply tourist travel and pleasure, one can go into environment or speed, into perception, into landscapes or companionship or family fun along a well designed journey by train. And of course, model-trains set-construction supports the self-esteem in an incredibly provable way: it develops dexterity, helps you with math and with home economy, budgeting, entrepreneurship, the lot.
And now THEY SAY what is missing? "Just two planks"?
Dammit, why suspect my neighbors? Why have this ugly feeling?
When I bought the set my life was different. Now I am a €220 AOW man with uitkering to cover my rent and pasta.
Get it?
Do you understand that I feel devastated because those two stolen planks meant the end of the summer before my grandson goes to school next week or so.
I hope Christian and I shall survive this calamity.
and I badly need the help of the blogging community,
the Police, the people of Phasantenbos BV or the Gemeente
or anybody because since yesterday I have lost a part of my inner peace.
Christian, my grandson, did not accompany me this morning to the Police station in Amstelveen although yesterday he said he wanted to. First of all, being only eight, he is too young to begin gathering life-experience from reporting crimes (aangifte te doen) to the Dutch police. Second, he was due for a day excursion to Duinreill with the kids from the "opvang centrum", a much more appropriate experience and third, I found the behavior of the police agents, though impressive in their uniforms and fully armed, pretty dull and far from friendly.
[L] So, I went alone and reported a theft.
Yesterday morning, Monday August 13th, we have discovered that a crucial part of our model-train set outfit was stolen. We were going to screw out the N-gauge rails, change the artificial grass cover, shape hills and glue new one over, let all that dry, and then continue with replacing the rails and setting the scenery for the model train Christian and I enjoyed so much. For an instant I thought that it was the cleaner who had collected the two joining planks thinking that they were here for throwing. The man collects, every Monday the black garbage bags some tenants leave in front of their apartment doors, a habit that I find demeaning for the cleaner and rather poor reflection on the people who would not take down their bags to the container next to the lift door. If left a night before, the small corridor stinks on rotten food and occasionally there is a a pool of liquid which spreads an awful stench for days after the bag was moved. So, we alerted his mother and Christian told her what happened. By the time I called the Phasantenbos BV - who send the cleaner to the building - I was told that my daughter had already requested immediate action and we should stay assured that they were doing their best to locate the cleaner, who was already out of the building, that they were going to call us back as soon as they had any news about "the two wooden planks".
The part of the Macedonian blood in the veins of my grandson was already boiling and he shouted (to me) that "those are not wood-planks, that is the basis of our model-train set." His Dutch part added "And that is a really expensive stuff, my best toy".
We concluded that the 7-storey building with six apartments each has a main door that is locked under key at all times and that nobody can get in unless a tenant opens the door or unless he or she has the key. Thus, our suddenly so very important part of the model-train set must have been removed by 1. Either a tenant or 2. The cleaner or by someone who could enter the building while the main door was open (a habit by servicing people who now and then come to work in the building invited by either the tenants or the care-taking Phasantenbos BV.
[L] My neighbors who live above our floor practically never go up on foot and very, very rarely descend using the stairs. There are two lifts servicing the house. The two planks were quite heavy, 5-layered all-weather speer-plats and I doubt that anybody would decide to just get away with them, especially when most of the neighbours are elderly people. Once you come out from any of the two lifts there are two doors each leading to a small corridor shared by three apartments. Thus, on the left side there are three single tenants who were not in the house yesterday morning. Two of the apartments on "my half" of the floor are empty and announced for sale. Thus: the neighbors of the fourth floor are bailed out. Somebody else must have entered the small glass-framed corridor, risked that he or she be heard and caught removing somebody else's stuff and taken it, dragged it, placed it in a lift and then either stashed it in one of the cellars or in a van (it is impossible to fit the any of the planks in a simple passenger car) risking also to be seen by any of the tenants or the idiot owner, that is myself, with unforeseen consequences thereafter.
You may easily imagine that building a model-train set complete with rails, switches, bridges, mountains, roads, train-stations, animals around pastures, tunnels and stuff - not to mention synchronizing two different gauge-sets, two different adapters, engines, trains, carriages and signalization - is a rather complex affair. It is rewarding, if executed with great attention to detail but it is nevertheless extremely time-and-money consuming past-time. Oh, it is probably one of the best vehicles of carrying an already well developed relationship between the generations to heavenly altitudes, as we have experienced that with Christian. Long before we ever came to buying the planks and the sets of model-trains we traveled to Rail 2004 in Leiden (my wife by car for the return leg) me and Christian (his first train ride ever) from RAI Station to Leiden on a double-decked train-carriage. Wow! And then, my stories to the kid.
[L] You would not dream that when I was only nine, my father and mother were being whacked in two different Gulags while I was a pioneer's railway station master back in Skopje. Playing with 75 cm narrow-gauge real trains, driving the engine, issuing real tickets for real money on a real train was my umbilical cord to sanity, a kind of a fairy tale that told me my parents have erred something and were put in prison while I, the good boy, We wore special, very high quality uniforms with gilded buttons, insignia, caps. What 8 and three-quarters track, what Harry Potter: we were real wizards and the other kids looked at us with eyes rolling with incredulity. We were handpicked from among the best pupils in town. I felt was allowed to drive a real train packed with real people and kids, I am trusted. The train ran about 8 km from the present City Hall to the river bank where my daughter has just bought a flat: roughly about the stretch from Amstelveen to Appololaan or eventually the Museumplein.
My grandson is too you to hear much of this. But, but model trains develop the imagination. One can go in economy or simply tourist travel and pleasure, one can go into environment or speed, into perception, into landscapes or companionship or family fun along a well designed journey by train. And of course, model-trains set-construction supports the self-esteem in an incredibly provable way: it develops dexterity, helps you with math and with home economy, budgeting, entrepreneurship, the lot.
And now THEY SAY what is missing? "Just two planks"?
Dammit, why suspect my neighbors? Why have this ugly feeling?
When I bought the set my life was different. Now I am a €220 AOW man with uitkering to cover my rent and pasta.
Get it?
Do you understand that I feel devastated because those two stolen planks meant the end of the summer before my grandson goes to school next week or so.
I hope Christian and I shall survive this calamity.
They are relentless, the radical capitalists, the ugly, rabid
pit-bull terriers of the humankind. The other day two of them, one
called Jamil Anderlini and the other Mure Dickie, barked for the
Financial Times yet another ridiculous attack on communism. They
claimed the Chinese were bribing, albeit corrupting their
journalists with "red envelopes" containing just under €20
equivalent of Rmb 200 in cash. The petty cash was extended to
journalists attending various events as "transport expense" and the
practice was heralded as a crown argument for the rotten morals
prevailing in endemically corrupt Communist China.
Your stomach may turn upside down by this revolting piece of senseless Goebelsian piece of journalism. Since I have grown resistant to this sort of blatant brainwashing by the UK media I only develop rashes all over me and an itch to hit back. The FT is probably The Most unreliable daily published on the island. These two and their editors KNOW or must have known years ago that most or all of the EU member countries corrupt domestic and foreign journalists on an incomparably larger scale. I am personally a witness and recipient of the lavish bribe extended by the Dutch ministry of Foreign Affairs. Hundreds, though afterthought indicates they were thousands, of journalists attending a 3-4 day event in The Hague, were treated to continuous open buffet modified slightly for breakfast, lunch, snack-time and dinner. Drinks, including wine, were poured non-stop.
You could fill in your bags with sandwiches and with fruit, with nescafe and tea-bags
We had free telephone lines for all the world: call anybody you want and chatr for hours. One could call and entertain for as long one pleased in rousing sex-chats with the sex-shops in Thailand, Tokio, Turkey, Texas or Tibet.
There are no sex-shops in Tibet. OK, you could call the Dalai Llama.
There is not a Dalai Lama in Tibet, the bloody communists have thrown him out.
OK, you can call the Yetty instead. Or somebody else: call the resident CIA man in Tibet. But Tibet you dial for free.
This sort of treatment is in the 150 euro daily bracket and summs up to €500 for three days.
They do it so many times every year in the West. The G6, 7 and 8. The EU summit and under-summit. The NATO, OTAN, NAVO. The opening of the ICC in the Hague extended the same corruptive treatment of the world media. Once you are a journalist - the National Tourist Offices pay your return airfare, your hotel, your taxis, your films, your escort, your everything.
The ANVR does it on a grand scale.Their famous Annual Congress week=long event is sweetened (bribed-up) with at least a €1,000 per person gratuits.
The ANWB too. They'll take you for a free all-day ride on a luxurious old boat to watch the tall ships slide by in comfort better than the one enjoyed by the queen, will wine you and dine you and music you till sunset, will see you off with a superb rain-jacket I believe is about €50 as their memento for the day. My estimate is that such a treat is a bribe of about €700 per person.
Actually, bloody everybody, even the most obscure RAI event will have a press-room stacked with sandwiches, beer, refreshments and gratis parking for journalists, a bundle that costs at least €30 outside of the press-booth. The Financial Times publishes 'special reports' as supplements to the genuine newspaper. That concept is a revolting cheating and bribing practice the pink paper of British extreme liberal financial might has mastered through frequent and unabashed use and misuse. When the FT produces a "special report" section for the regular newspaper do not even come close to think that the editors have decided to produce an in-debth analysis of a country, a region (Sheik's Abu Dhabi, my Macedonia, Sarkozy's Frrance, Russian Arctic) or an industry, important institution, a social trend a scientific breakthrough.
These sharks have no other interest but grabbing your money. These journalists are ready to be corrupted for real money, not the "transport allowance" paid to their Chinese colleagues attending a press conference 20 miles away from the media newsroom. The Financial Times charges money (it is being bribed, or paid for as a whore to complete a service) to cheat the unsuspecting public that its "supplement" called Special Report Republic of Macedonia is a genuine piece of editorial journalism. But it is not.
The Special Report is paid by the government of Macedonia.
That is corruption of the FT.
That is amoral.
That is the great train robbery of criminality in journalism as compared to the €29 transport money.
The FT lies the poor Macedonian ignoramuses that ALL THE WORLD will change their attitude towards Macedonia once the people will have seen the "special report" on their country in the FT,
FT must have implied that it would have never gone out with such a report if its editors did not know something extra: Macedonia is being groomed for opening EU-accession talks. Influential people suggest it would be beneficial if a special report was published now. Top authors will be sent to cover the subject.
And those pigs, those little vermin gather courage to come out and attack the Chinese journalists who receive €29 to pay their taxi to the event and back AND to claim that such an attitude is their proof Communism was endemically rotten and corrupt while they, they were the epitomes of moral purity!
Your stomach may turn upside down by this revolting piece of senseless Goebelsian piece of journalism. Since I have grown resistant to this sort of blatant brainwashing by the UK media I only develop rashes all over me and an itch to hit back. The FT is probably The Most unreliable daily published on the island. These two and their editors KNOW or must have known years ago that most or all of the EU member countries corrupt domestic and foreign journalists on an incomparably larger scale. I am personally a witness and recipient of the lavish bribe extended by the Dutch ministry of Foreign Affairs. Hundreds, though afterthought indicates they were thousands, of journalists attending a 3-4 day event in The Hague, were treated to continuous open buffet modified slightly for breakfast, lunch, snack-time and dinner. Drinks, including wine, were poured non-stop.
You could fill in your bags with sandwiches and with fruit, with nescafe and tea-bags
We had free telephone lines for all the world: call anybody you want and chatr for hours. One could call and entertain for as long one pleased in rousing sex-chats with the sex-shops in Thailand, Tokio, Turkey, Texas or Tibet.
There are no sex-shops in Tibet. OK, you could call the Dalai Llama.
There is not a Dalai Lama in Tibet, the bloody communists have thrown him out.
OK, you can call the Yetty instead. Or somebody else: call the resident CIA man in Tibet. But Tibet you dial for free.
This sort of treatment is in the 150 euro daily bracket and summs up to €500 for three days.
They do it so many times every year in the West. The G6, 7 and 8. The EU summit and under-summit. The NATO, OTAN, NAVO. The opening of the ICC in the Hague extended the same corruptive treatment of the world media. Once you are a journalist - the National Tourist Offices pay your return airfare, your hotel, your taxis, your films, your escort, your everything.
The ANVR does it on a grand scale.Their famous Annual Congress week=long event is sweetened (bribed-up) with at least a €1,000 per person gratuits.
The ANWB too. They'll take you for a free all-day ride on a luxurious old boat to watch the tall ships slide by in comfort better than the one enjoyed by the queen, will wine you and dine you and music you till sunset, will see you off with a superb rain-jacket I believe is about €50 as their memento for the day. My estimate is that such a treat is a bribe of about €700 per person.
Actually, bloody everybody, even the most obscure RAI event will have a press-room stacked with sandwiches, beer, refreshments and gratis parking for journalists, a bundle that costs at least €30 outside of the press-booth. The Financial Times publishes 'special reports' as supplements to the genuine newspaper. That concept is a revolting cheating and bribing practice the pink paper of British extreme liberal financial might has mastered through frequent and unabashed use and misuse. When the FT produces a "special report" section for the regular newspaper do not even come close to think that the editors have decided to produce an in-debth analysis of a country, a region (Sheik's Abu Dhabi, my Macedonia, Sarkozy's Frrance, Russian Arctic) or an industry, important institution, a social trend a scientific breakthrough.
These sharks have no other interest but grabbing your money. These journalists are ready to be corrupted for real money, not the "transport allowance" paid to their Chinese colleagues attending a press conference 20 miles away from the media newsroom. The Financial Times charges money (it is being bribed, or paid for as a whore to complete a service) to cheat the unsuspecting public that its "supplement" called Special Report Republic of Macedonia is a genuine piece of editorial journalism. But it is not.
The Special Report is paid by the government of Macedonia.
That is corruption of the FT.
That is amoral.
That is the great train robbery of criminality in journalism as compared to the €29 transport money.
The FT lies the poor Macedonian ignoramuses that ALL THE WORLD will change their attitude towards Macedonia once the people will have seen the "special report" on their country in the FT,
FT must have implied that it would have never gone out with such a report if its editors did not know something extra: Macedonia is being groomed for opening EU-accession talks. Influential people suggest it would be beneficial if a special report was published now. Top authors will be sent to cover the subject.
And those pigs, those little vermin gather courage to come out and attack the Chinese journalists who receive €29 to pay their taxi to the event and back AND to claim that such an attitude is their proof Communism was endemically rotten and corrupt while they, they were the epitomes of moral purity!
You probably have heard already that Tony Blair is preparing to
turn catholic one of these days. He visited the Holy Father before
the weekend but the official communique does not mention nor even
hint the possibility or any talk about it with the departing
British PM. Pope Benedict XVI expressed his huge displeasure at the
advancement of gay rights under Tony Blair. He gave the Pontiff two
antique photos of 19th Century English Cardinal Henry
Newman, who is expected to be proclaimed a saint. The gift was
a strong message: Cardinal Newman was a famous convert to
Catholicism. At the end of the visit Blair introduced his wife
Chery (who, like their four children, is a devoted catholic) to
pope Benedict. Thus, Chery has been received by two popes. The last
time Blair pulled the same trick when visiting pope John Paul II at
the face of the invasion on Iraq, during period when the British
were up in arms against her handling gurus at home and receiving
help (in property transaction) from an illegal convict. I mean,
they both, husband and wife, for so long behaved in such a
duplicitous way, played tricks and wept and turned the facts upside
down so cowardly and the British tolerated all that.
Since I cannot believe that meticulously calculated people like Tony Blair decide on switching religion like changing a necktie or a pullover, I am inclined to think that if he really drops the anglican for the catholic church this only demonstrates the duplicity of his character.
The british press writes that Blair was an "Arsee" (play of "words" from RC, roman catholic) for quite some time. The Independent writes that it was Cherie (grown up with a deserted mother and a father with heavy alcohol problem and addiction to serial marriages) who influenced Blair into catholicism just like G.W. Bush influenced him into the Iraqi adventure. Poor guy.
The UK is very much a Protestant country. No Roman Catholic has ever held the prime-minister's office in the UK: no Sovereign, nor member of the Sovereign's family, can marry an "RC" without forfeiting all privileges. For the last five years Blair has been a Roman Catholic in all but name. He was "two different people" most of the time. Which one of them shaped so much around the world?
Since I cannot believe that meticulously calculated people like Tony Blair decide on switching religion like changing a necktie or a pullover, I am inclined to think that if he really drops the anglican for the catholic church this only demonstrates the duplicity of his character.
The british press writes that Blair was an "Arsee" (play of "words" from RC, roman catholic) for quite some time. The Independent writes that it was Cherie (grown up with a deserted mother and a father with heavy alcohol problem and addiction to serial marriages) who influenced Blair into catholicism just like G.W. Bush influenced him into the Iraqi adventure. Poor guy.
The UK is very much a Protestant country. No Roman Catholic has ever held the prime-minister's office in the UK: no Sovereign, nor member of the Sovereign's family, can marry an "RC" without forfeiting all privileges. For the last five years Blair has been a Roman Catholic in all but name. He was "two different people" most of the time. Which one of them shaped so much around the world?
The other day I stuumbled into this, somewhat reduces, set of
graffiti published on a blog in Macedonia. The selection was
alegedly a sample from what one could read on the walls and open
spaces in Skopje, the capital. This is not the most adequate of
translations, just a sneak peak into a part of the humour of the
Balkansa...
Only the nail does not go with its head into the wall.
Superlative is the best.
I can lift an elephant with one hand. Bring me an elephant with one hand.
A cannibal earnestly likes every man.
A monkey went down a tree and said: "This is a small step for me but great for humankind".
Behind every successful man there is a woman. Behind a successful woman there is a queue of men.
1000 people - 1000 characters.
1000 women - 2000 tits.
Make love, not sandcastles.
Better 7 times with Snowhite than once with the 7 dwarfs.
Better 5 to 12 than none after one.
Everybody dies. That's life.
Only the nail does not go with its head into the wall.
Superlative is the best.
I can lift an elephant with one hand. Bring me an elephant with one hand.
A cannibal earnestly likes every man.
A monkey went down a tree and said: "This is a small step for me but great for humankind".
Behind every successful man there is a woman. Behind a successful woman there is a queue of men.
1000 people - 1000 characters.
1000 women - 2000 tits.
Make love, not sandcastles.
Better 7 times with Snowhite than once with the 7 dwarfs.
Better 5 to 12 than none after one.
Everybody dies. That's life.
Well, hardly any comment is needed here. But you are welcome to
spill your usual substance...
There is no tanga, though.
The skies are nowhere close to those dramatic pics by the Electrician.
The subtlety of Leila is missing.
But it is full blown message, don't you think?
There is no tanga, though.
The skies are nowhere close to those dramatic pics by the Electrician.
The subtlety of Leila is missing.
But it is full blown message, don't you think?
The Swedish right-of-centre government asked the parliament to
allow it to sell the state-owned companies NOT for cash that goes
directly into the treasury of the land but for shares, promissory
notes, see-saw paper, of potential buyers. That is yet another of
the many tricks brazenly played by the political and financial yoke
of power against the dazzled public. This is one of the most
stupidly designed tools of robing the unsuspecting owners of their
hard-earned possessions.
1. The Swedish government says that this approach will help it get the best bid for the state-owned companies it must sell.
It is a lie that the state-owned companies must be sold. They can remain public property.
it is a lie that managing stock (pieces of paper) which goes up and down on the stock-exchanges at the whim of speculators.
2. The Swedish government says that it does this in the interest of the people.
It is a lie that the people will be better off if their property is exchanged for stock.
It is a lie that it is better to have a zillion shares issued by a speculating shark than a real bank or telecom as is the case now.
3. The Swedish government does not explain what is the reason behind the sale.
There are 55 state-owned firms earmarked for denationalization, for sale. One is TeliaSonera, the Nordic region (Scandinavian) largest telecom. Another is Nordea, the scandinavian largest bank. The third one is SBAB, the largest mortgage lender, a rock-solid bank that has been lending money against the value of much of the property in Sweden as collateral. The fourth is Vin&Sprit, the Swedish booz company that controls much or most of the alcohol production and/or trade in the notoriously heavy-drinking, heavy levied country.
This see-through scheme shows that the powerful people do not think much of their compatriot's brains and ability to reason. You probably did not know that In the land of Hogar the Terrible there is a Ministry for financial markets and that its boss, the minister Mats Odell, has hired "a special adviser for privatisation" called Karin Forseke, and that all this is actually a product of the intellectual labors of that woman, that "expert" who gets a lot of money to support the scheme how to rob the swedish people. On the face of it - the government may even oppose this project a bit and appear to have been persuaded to slaughter the fat pig on pressure and advice by experts.
They must be very stupid if they fall in for this naive a trick, the majority of the Swedish parliament.
Presently the government must have managed the 55 state-owned companies on a single, simple bill. That bill probably designed the way how state-owned companies must be managed, how the management will be elected and remunerated, to who it will be responsible and how its books will be controlled. End of story. Now this guy Mats Odell will be allowed to play George Soros and gamble with billions of shares in buy and sell transactions till all the money is lost.
Nobody will ever sit down and reasonably explain why the Swedes (or anybody else) need to sell the state-owned companies? Why? Why the hedge funds (the activist investors?) can buy any company and do whatever they want with it? Why should a country sell its own firm to a locust or a greedy investor at all?
But let me compose myself: this is the big hour of the thieves during the darkest hour of the night of mankind. Dawn will come again.
1. The Swedish government says that this approach will help it get the best bid for the state-owned companies it must sell.
It is a lie that the state-owned companies must be sold. They can remain public property.
it is a lie that managing stock (pieces of paper) which goes up and down on the stock-exchanges at the whim of speculators.
2. The Swedish government says that it does this in the interest of the people.
It is a lie that the people will be better off if their property is exchanged for stock.
It is a lie that it is better to have a zillion shares issued by a speculating shark than a real bank or telecom as is the case now.
3. The Swedish government does not explain what is the reason behind the sale.
There are 55 state-owned firms earmarked for denationalization, for sale. One is TeliaSonera, the Nordic region (Scandinavian) largest telecom. Another is Nordea, the scandinavian largest bank. The third one is SBAB, the largest mortgage lender, a rock-solid bank that has been lending money against the value of much of the property in Sweden as collateral. The fourth is Vin&Sprit, the Swedish booz company that controls much or most of the alcohol production and/or trade in the notoriously heavy-drinking, heavy levied country.
This see-through scheme shows that the powerful people do not think much of their compatriot's brains and ability to reason. You probably did not know that In the land of Hogar the Terrible there is a Ministry for financial markets and that its boss, the minister Mats Odell, has hired "a special adviser for privatisation" called Karin Forseke, and that all this is actually a product of the intellectual labors of that woman, that "expert" who gets a lot of money to support the scheme how to rob the swedish people. On the face of it - the government may even oppose this project a bit and appear to have been persuaded to slaughter the fat pig on pressure and advice by experts.
They must be very stupid if they fall in for this naive a trick, the majority of the Swedish parliament.
Presently the government must have managed the 55 state-owned companies on a single, simple bill. That bill probably designed the way how state-owned companies must be managed, how the management will be elected and remunerated, to who it will be responsible and how its books will be controlled. End of story. Now this guy Mats Odell will be allowed to play George Soros and gamble with billions of shares in buy and sell transactions till all the money is lost.
Nobody will ever sit down and reasonably explain why the Swedes (or anybody else) need to sell the state-owned companies? Why? Why the hedge funds (the activist investors?) can buy any company and do whatever they want with it? Why should a country sell its own firm to a locust or a greedy investor at all?
But let me compose myself: this is the big hour of the thieves during the darkest hour of the night of mankind. Dawn will come again.
Well, old but good!
IF FAMILY IS USELESS, IF THE INDIVIDUAL IS EVERY THING, THE
BASIC UNIT OF THE SOCIETY, WHY DON'T WE GO INTO INSEMINATION,
INCUBATING, CLONING?
WE CAN HAVE THE STATE RAISE OUR KIDS AND LOOK AFTER OUR AILING PARENTS?
THEY DID NOT DEBATE THESE QUESTION BUT BULLSHITTED ABOUT AIRBUS, TGV, TAXTES AND CRAP. FAMILY AND SINCERITY, HONESTY, TRUSTWORTHYNESS, THAT IS WHAT MATTERS, NOT PUBLIC TRANSPORT, DAMMIT.
You probably feel somewhat neglected, because of my long abscence, don't you? So sorry. Telling you that you were almost day and night on my mind wont do the trick of making it up to you, would it?
The point is that I was crushed with obligations I simply could not postpone nor handle lightly, as I prepare breakfast for my grandchildren. But then, there were so many interesting experiences that I have harvested while out there, encounters with absolutely crazy ideas and attitudes that, once sorted out and presented for your consumption, you might, just, be tempted to excuse me.
Sorry once more.
(TOP PIC: Her partner Francois Hollande was secretely hooked with another woman, cheated on Segoleme throughout the presidential campaign and behaved as pig at 53. She will soon cick him out of the top party position while already telling him he better leave the house, their home for some 27 years, and go with his mistress. This is a last year's pic of Segoleme, 54, her oldest kid is 22 years old.)
One of the last posts here was my outburst of support for Sagoleme Royal. We all know how she failed in the bid for the French presidency. Pity. But then, two days ago, while reading how badly, how cowardly she was betrayed, stabbed in thee back by the father of her four kids, I was once again, stupid me, reminded of the growing amorality among our species. Only 30 days after the night she was defeated by this guy Sarkozy, my heroine Sagoleme disclosed that she was splitting with her partner, Hollande, that she had asked him to leave "their house" (why did she use that adjective there, as in "mine and my kids' house" or something along the line of "our old family castle") and go his philandering path away from her and the kids.
There was a hint that her partner's affair with another woman was not a yesterday's shocking piece of news, something that had just happed after the presidential election. Her statement and my googling point to the fact that her parter has been cheating on Sagoleme for some time, that his new relationship was a common knowledge in France, that the media had entertained the public with the fact.
This means that she had fought for the Presidency with this big burden on her shoulders, heart and mind. Deep down she must have known that millions of French were aware that she, if they vote for her, will be either moving to the Elysee alone or her relationship with Holland would have to be renegotiated. Is it possible that she judged the French so very emancipated as to send her, together with this lying partner to the pinnacle of power?
Since Francois Hollande has been secretary-general of the French Socialist party, did the fact also imply a fundamental shift in family values and norms? Segoleme did not tackle in full the issue of the status of single mothers and their position in the society. Did she, did he, in their different political positions, imply that the private is to be individually defined, that the individual and not the family is the basis of the society.
Fine, who takes care of the toddlers, of the children, the youth, the very old, the handicapped? Me or the State? If the family is obsolete, shall we incubate the new generations? If we do, why not go into bio-engineering and produce super-kids, clean of ailments, self-supportive, self-destruct at the age of what, 90 or 110 or 75? Or different time-limits for different incubated offsprings. Then we may have the geniuses engaged in wanking their sperm all the time instead of producing genial solutions for the humankind.
That is the real topic for a French election. Forget new corporate taxes, french industry, salaries of the entrepreneurs, Airbus, TGV, NATO and the rest. Tell me about the family and my place in the society.
They did not dig into it. She did not. Hollande did not outline his party's position related to those questions. So why trust them with this affair growing as a malign tumor between them? Is it possible that all of France is well aware of such a problem and allows it to simply grow? And this Hungarian immigrant Sarcozy. His wife leaves him for a sex fling with somebody then comes back than says will not move to Elysee, will be "independent". How independent can be the official wife and the mother of a child of the President of France?
Then, totally by itself, the picture of Hillary Clinton, hours after the Monica Levinsky affair, surfaces in front of me. She stood by her husband. I think I understood her explanation. She did not do it for him as Bill. She did it for her her husband who was the President of the United States. She did it for those two institutions and, a little bit, for her ambition to run for president herself. Hollande behaved differently.
Personally, I like womanizing. I love women. Period. I think sex is the greatest thing around. Period. By I am not the secretary-general of the Socialist party of France, neither I am the partner of a woman who delivered me four children out of love through quarter of a century of sex. Dammit, you are a promiscuous pig, Francois.
And you deserve that Sagoleme kikcks your ass out of that office. And Sarcozy's too. Everything in its due time.
WE CAN HAVE THE STATE RAISE OUR KIDS AND LOOK AFTER OUR AILING PARENTS?
THEY DID NOT DEBATE THESE QUESTION BUT BULLSHITTED ABOUT AIRBUS, TGV, TAXTES AND CRAP. FAMILY AND SINCERITY, HONESTY, TRUSTWORTHYNESS, THAT IS WHAT MATTERS, NOT PUBLIC TRANSPORT, DAMMIT.
You probably feel somewhat neglected, because of my long abscence, don't you? So sorry. Telling you that you were almost day and night on my mind wont do the trick of making it up to you, would it?
The point is that I was crushed with obligations I simply could not postpone nor handle lightly, as I prepare breakfast for my grandchildren. But then, there were so many interesting experiences that I have harvested while out there, encounters with absolutely crazy ideas and attitudes that, once sorted out and presented for your consumption, you might, just, be tempted to excuse me.
Sorry once more.
(TOP PIC: Her partner Francois Hollande was secretely hooked with another woman, cheated on Segoleme throughout the presidential campaign and behaved as pig at 53. She will soon cick him out of the top party position while already telling him he better leave the house, their home for some 27 years, and go with his mistress. This is a last year's pic of Segoleme, 54, her oldest kid is 22 years old.)
One of the last posts here was my outburst of support for Sagoleme Royal. We all know how she failed in the bid for the French presidency. Pity. But then, two days ago, while reading how badly, how cowardly she was betrayed, stabbed in thee back by the father of her four kids, I was once again, stupid me, reminded of the growing amorality among our species. Only 30 days after the night she was defeated by this guy Sarkozy, my heroine Sagoleme disclosed that she was splitting with her partner, Hollande, that she had asked him to leave "their house" (why did she use that adjective there, as in "mine and my kids' house" or something along the line of "our old family castle") and go his philandering path away from her and the kids.
There was a hint that her partner's affair with another woman was not a yesterday's shocking piece of news, something that had just happed after the presidential election. Her statement and my googling point to the fact that her parter has been cheating on Sagoleme for some time, that his new relationship was a common knowledge in France, that the media had entertained the public with the fact.
This means that she had fought for the Presidency with this big burden on her shoulders, heart and mind. Deep down she must have known that millions of French were aware that she, if they vote for her, will be either moving to the Elysee alone or her relationship with Holland would have to be renegotiated. Is it possible that she judged the French so very emancipated as to send her, together with this lying partner to the pinnacle of power?
Since Francois Hollande has been secretary-general of the French Socialist party, did the fact also imply a fundamental shift in family values and norms? Segoleme did not tackle in full the issue of the status of single mothers and their position in the society. Did she, did he, in their different political positions, imply that the private is to be individually defined, that the individual and not the family is the basis of the society.
Fine, who takes care of the toddlers, of the children, the youth, the very old, the handicapped? Me or the State? If the family is obsolete, shall we incubate the new generations? If we do, why not go into bio-engineering and produce super-kids, clean of ailments, self-supportive, self-destruct at the age of what, 90 or 110 or 75? Or different time-limits for different incubated offsprings. Then we may have the geniuses engaged in wanking their sperm all the time instead of producing genial solutions for the humankind.
That is the real topic for a French election. Forget new corporate taxes, french industry, salaries of the entrepreneurs, Airbus, TGV, NATO and the rest. Tell me about the family and my place in the society.
They did not dig into it. She did not. Hollande did not outline his party's position related to those questions. So why trust them with this affair growing as a malign tumor between them? Is it possible that all of France is well aware of such a problem and allows it to simply grow? And this Hungarian immigrant Sarcozy. His wife leaves him for a sex fling with somebody then comes back than says will not move to Elysee, will be "independent". How independent can be the official wife and the mother of a child of the President of France?
Then, totally by itself, the picture of Hillary Clinton, hours after the Monica Levinsky affair, surfaces in front of me. She stood by her husband. I think I understood her explanation. She did not do it for him as Bill. She did it for her her husband who was the President of the United States. She did it for those two institutions and, a little bit, for her ambition to run for president herself. Hollande behaved differently.
Personally, I like womanizing. I love women. Period. I think sex is the greatest thing around. Period. By I am not the secretary-general of the Socialist party of France, neither I am the partner of a woman who delivered me four children out of love through quarter of a century of sex. Dammit, you are a promiscuous pig, Francois.
And you deserve that Sagoleme kikcks your ass out of that office. And Sarcozy's too. Everything in its due time.
How often does the West confuse me, how often and how rudely it
mocks with my inner compass.
Take, for instance, Jaap van Nieveld Goudriaen. The guy who is actually Van der Wijk but who friends, and his one-time mortal enemies too, call him Jack.
He is leaving for Nice, as you all know.
I thought that I will not care, after the news broke, whether this affects you all or not.
The sudden (it would have been same, if not more painful, were it at length) departure affects me, an incidental acquaintance, a flickering memo, a nobody in his life while him a remarkable buoy in my tormented waters at these foreign shores.
He could not have known nor he could have sensed, so far away, that his departure moved me and rocks my shelupe of a life-boat. (There is this Shelupe d'Or on Bruxelles' Grand Place, go there when you can, carry a bit of the parting sentiment and have a drink. You may feel better.)
Is this the consequence of the globalization?
Out of a blue moon this personality of fairy tales, the prince Obolensky, appears, a figure of transition apt for galactic crusades and challenges, and dedicates me aeons of experience as if I were his very next of kin, not a complete stranger and a very common Balkan peasant at that. Afterwards I hammer his spirit into the fleeting consciousness of all the individuals inhabiting my micro-cosmos and they feel sorry for me thinking I was bewitched by a Merlin.
So I keep Jaap for myself.
But how many of you, the regulars of the CountDown cafe, do that too?
I am amazed with this exclusive person. Jaap is the very first and the only real genius that allowed me to come close to his rare breed without, for one single moment, patronizing. Instead, amazingly, he had treated me, so very casually, so very humanly, as equal. I felt as if swelling, emotionally, intellectually, even physically. I will never forget that and I pitty all of you people who had not been given the privilege to personally know, for a short afternoon, a son of God.
Do not tell me of puppies and of excesses of belastingdiensten and shortsingen by editors. Tell me, if you can, what makes people like Jaap van Nieveld Goudriaen leave us. What is wrong with us? How come we are unable to keep among us one single Jaap? What is going wrong here?
Forget me and my obsession to expose the absurd around here. See the bigger picture. The one and only persone who could, while willing, attract the community of so many attached to this blog with his fluid, not with the LP's he would play for Mo or GP or Cees. In my daydreams I had written (actually I did copy-paste some actual conversations) a musical titled Jaap's CountDown Cafe, and invited somebody who is a fine musician and a blogger here, to complement it. Now, when he moves to Nice, I may be tempted to try, at the top of my meagre abilities, transform it into a great production for Broadway. Nothing else.
So, I am slowly parting with a great individual who I feel as a friend from an outer world, from a different Universe because this sort of people, like Jaap, have been hidden or non-existent for me during all these nearly 70 years I have been wandering around this planet.
Maybe it is a very high time I found my Nice.
* * *
But I am drunk, carried away with his message, on whiskey and grappa.
And the pic, so very telling.
That is how much your personal communication moved me, you bastard.
Take, for instance, Jaap van Nieveld Goudriaen. The guy who is actually Van der Wijk but who friends, and his one-time mortal enemies too, call him Jack.
He is leaving for Nice, as you all know.
I thought that I will not care, after the news broke, whether this affects you all or not.
The sudden (it would have been same, if not more painful, were it at length) departure affects me, an incidental acquaintance, a flickering memo, a nobody in his life while him a remarkable buoy in my tormented waters at these foreign shores.
He could not have known nor he could have sensed, so far away, that his departure moved me and rocks my shelupe of a life-boat. (There is this Shelupe d'Or on Bruxelles' Grand Place, go there when you can, carry a bit of the parting sentiment and have a drink. You may feel better.)
Is this the consequence of the globalization?
Out of a blue moon this personality of fairy tales, the prince Obolensky, appears, a figure of transition apt for galactic crusades and challenges, and dedicates me aeons of experience as if I were his very next of kin, not a complete stranger and a very common Balkan peasant at that. Afterwards I hammer his spirit into the fleeting consciousness of all the individuals inhabiting my micro-cosmos and they feel sorry for me thinking I was bewitched by a Merlin.
So I keep Jaap for myself.
But how many of you, the regulars of the CountDown cafe, do that too?
I am amazed with this exclusive person. Jaap is the very first and the only real genius that allowed me to come close to his rare breed without, for one single moment, patronizing. Instead, amazingly, he had treated me, so very casually, so very humanly, as equal. I felt as if swelling, emotionally, intellectually, even physically. I will never forget that and I pitty all of you people who had not been given the privilege to personally know, for a short afternoon, a son of God.
Do not tell me of puppies and of excesses of belastingdiensten and shortsingen by editors. Tell me, if you can, what makes people like Jaap van Nieveld Goudriaen leave us. What is wrong with us? How come we are unable to keep among us one single Jaap? What is going wrong here?
Forget me and my obsession to expose the absurd around here. See the bigger picture. The one and only persone who could, while willing, attract the community of so many attached to this blog with his fluid, not with the LP's he would play for Mo or GP or Cees. In my daydreams I had written (actually I did copy-paste some actual conversations) a musical titled Jaap's CountDown Cafe, and invited somebody who is a fine musician and a blogger here, to complement it. Now, when he moves to Nice, I may be tempted to try, at the top of my meagre abilities, transform it into a great production for Broadway. Nothing else.
So, I am slowly parting with a great individual who I feel as a friend from an outer world, from a different Universe because this sort of people, like Jaap, have been hidden or non-existent for me during all these nearly 70 years I have been wandering around this planet.
Maybe it is a very high time I found my Nice.
* * *
But I am drunk, carried away with his message, on whiskey and grappa.
And the pic, so very telling.
That is how much your personal communication moved me, you bastard.
Even the fattest cats of finance, those called locusts, those who
handle other people's money to buy or sell firms (like the WSJ or
VNU) and get millions for one deal - pay LESS tax
than a minimum wage worker! Can you imagine that!
This does not happen in Russia or China or Japan.
This happens in the United Kingdom and I would say probably in the Netherlands too. When you sell your investment in the unlisted security (and make an odd million or two) you pay 10% tax. When you get you pay-check on a minimum wage, say 600 euro, you pay 40% tax.
There is absolutely no justification for this outright privilege for the rich. This only illustrate the dismal position of the general workforce (the electorate) as compared with the big financial tom-cats who actually have our parliaments in the small pockets of their waist-coats. Nobody dares air a squeak. And them this Tny Blair tells Putin that the "people of the West had it enough" with Russia. Can you imagine that!
The queer is out of office and the Western people are fighting him tooth and nail, he still goes on pretending he talks in the name of all western people.
What about the eastern ones? What if those stupid eastern people are totally fed up with the western leaders, what if those eastern people want Putin to tell the West to buzz-off a little bit! It is incredible how those people have sunk while their rulers believe that they are a great power. They take the world as if this was 18th century! They keep Canada and Italy in this G7 club, two economic pigmies in comparison with China and India, and expect that Russia will spit on its constitution to accommodate a local Intelligence service agent?
Who the hell cares what the British think or want.
Their politics is based on brutal power. They have lost any ability to propose any embraceable initiative. Their stubborn, stupid, arrogant, pretentious generals have always sacrificed the common folk sending it in the most obvious slaughter-fields for centuries. Their reasoning is distorted. The Middle East, Cyprus, Suez, The Iron Lady against the Shetlands, against the Unions, against the Euro, against CAP, against Iraq, against everything. Now shamelessly blackmailing the Israeli scientists.
Of course that Vladimir Putin will tell them to stay put in their foggy England and mind their own business. Of course that I will tell them that it is so very ugly to levy the poor workers with 40% tax on couple of hundred pounds while letting the rich get away with 10% on millions. A country with a government like that does not have the moral right to open its mouth abouth anything that goes on in the world. Not one word.
This does not happen in Russia or China or Japan.
This happens in the United Kingdom and I would say probably in the Netherlands too. When you sell your investment in the unlisted security (and make an odd million or two) you pay 10% tax. When you get you pay-check on a minimum wage, say 600 euro, you pay 40% tax.
There is absolutely no justification for this outright privilege for the rich. This only illustrate the dismal position of the general workforce (the electorate) as compared with the big financial tom-cats who actually have our parliaments in the small pockets of their waist-coats. Nobody dares air a squeak. And them this Tny Blair tells Putin that the "people of the West had it enough" with Russia. Can you imagine that!
The queer is out of office and the Western people are fighting him tooth and nail, he still goes on pretending he talks in the name of all western people.
What about the eastern ones? What if those stupid eastern people are totally fed up with the western leaders, what if those eastern people want Putin to tell the West to buzz-off a little bit! It is incredible how those people have sunk while their rulers believe that they are a great power. They take the world as if this was 18th century! They keep Canada and Italy in this G7 club, two economic pigmies in comparison with China and India, and expect that Russia will spit on its constitution to accommodate a local Intelligence service agent?
Who the hell cares what the British think or want.
Their politics is based on brutal power. They have lost any ability to propose any embraceable initiative. Their stubborn, stupid, arrogant, pretentious generals have always sacrificed the common folk sending it in the most obvious slaughter-fields for centuries. Their reasoning is distorted. The Middle East, Cyprus, Suez, The Iron Lady against the Shetlands, against the Unions, against the Euro, against CAP, against Iraq, against everything. Now shamelessly blackmailing the Israeli scientists.
Of course that Vladimir Putin will tell them to stay put in their foggy England and mind their own business. Of course that I will tell them that it is so very ugly to levy the poor workers with 40% tax on couple of hundred pounds while letting the rich get away with 10% on millions. A country with a government like that does not have the moral right to open its mouth abouth anything that goes on in the world. Not one word.
Is it possible that general Ratko Mladic, indicted for the
Srebrenica massacre, is dead?
This $64,000 question was aired the other day by a well respected columnist (Lj. Stojadinovic) of Belgrade daily Politika, the icon newspaper of Serbia. The speculations abound that the general (who has not been either heard of or seen for the past four years) is not among the living and that his existence in hiding is just a fable, a ploy to drive the political power of Serbia nuts, to make them appear totally incompetent and untrustworthy.
(Two generals: Wesley ClarK and Ratko Mladic. They exchanged gifts, then went to an all-out war.)
When one follows this line of thought it is very easy to arrive to a plausible explanation that general Mladic himself was a victim, that he could have been abducted and kept in custody when he did not appear (to his captors or their masters) resolute enough to keep hiding. When he did not radiate enough of zeal to carry on being a challenge to the imposed will of the international community, to fight to the bitter end, to enable Serbia and the Serbs being the judges not the judged ones. They could have killed him and kept that a secret. Nobody in Belgrade believes general Zdravko Tolimir, who was naively lured into a trap to be delivered to the Hague last week, was the mastermind who guaranteed all these four years of his friends safety and invisibility. There are so very many Serbs who treat the arrest of Tolimir (also indicted for Srebrenica) as low-grade treason. If Tolimir allowed to be caught on a simple trick - he could not have been the one protecting general Mladic fo so long. The other stuff Stojadinovic says about the refusal of general Mladic to surface - is simple crap. The man (I am very far from being close to his fan) albeit general Ratko Mladic, did what the majority of Serbs wanted. He waged an all out war against the world, a war till annihilation of all the non-Serbs found on what the Serbs conceived as their God-given territory. He must have known the outcome. Now, under the prolonged and merciless pressure they, the Serbs, begin waking up and are more than glad that they have a scape-goat for all the volunteers, for all the irregulars they have sent to slaughter people across their borders. They would have given the general up for less than the prize Ollie Rehn offers now. But there is no Ratko Mladic around. That is why it just may be that he is already dead. If he is not, he might be waiting for Carla del Ponte to retire one of these few months and to show that her approach was wrong. I expected him to give himself up to be a witness in Slobodan Milosevic's defense bout. That would have been the right thing to do and at least prove to the world that Milosevic was wrongly accused, that it was him, not Slobo, the icon of the Serbs. That is what I have predicted, but, eventually, a vis major got into the line of logical action. General Mladic might have been silenced roughly at about that time. Eventually, without a legal wrap-up of Slobodan Milosevic's indictment, without anything proven against the supreme leader - The Hague is crippled. The ICTY will be a miserable episode for all international tribunals of this kind, a mockery of justice, a huge legal stain.
I suspect that if alive - General Ratko Mladic wants to accomplish that before facing his Lord and eternal justice. Such a hypothetical course of action will not absolve Mladic from the ghastly crime he allowed or ordered. But if he is alive - I do understand, I think, why he is not helping the Serbs and the "international community" by giving himself up.
None of the two deserve it.
I think that that is his point and he makes it so clearly, if he is alive. Only chiseling that message in the conscience of the Serbs and the arrogance of NATO - may be worth enduring the misery he has been exposed to for the past 4-5 years...
This $64,000 question was aired the other day by a well respected columnist (Lj. Stojadinovic) of Belgrade daily Politika, the icon newspaper of Serbia. The speculations abound that the general (who has not been either heard of or seen for the past four years) is not among the living and that his existence in hiding is just a fable, a ploy to drive the political power of Serbia nuts, to make them appear totally incompetent and untrustworthy.
(Two generals: Wesley ClarK and Ratko Mladic. They exchanged gifts, then went to an all-out war.)
When one follows this line of thought it is very easy to arrive to a plausible explanation that general Mladic himself was a victim, that he could have been abducted and kept in custody when he did not appear (to his captors or their masters) resolute enough to keep hiding. When he did not radiate enough of zeal to carry on being a challenge to the imposed will of the international community, to fight to the bitter end, to enable Serbia and the Serbs being the judges not the judged ones. They could have killed him and kept that a secret. Nobody in Belgrade believes general Zdravko Tolimir, who was naively lured into a trap to be delivered to the Hague last week, was the mastermind who guaranteed all these four years of his friends safety and invisibility. There are so very many Serbs who treat the arrest of Tolimir (also indicted for Srebrenica) as low-grade treason. If Tolimir allowed to be caught on a simple trick - he could not have been the one protecting general Mladic fo so long. The other stuff Stojadinovic says about the refusal of general Mladic to surface - is simple crap. The man (I am very far from being close to his fan) albeit general Ratko Mladic, did what the majority of Serbs wanted. He waged an all out war against the world, a war till annihilation of all the non-Serbs found on what the Serbs conceived as their God-given territory. He must have known the outcome. Now, under the prolonged and merciless pressure they, the Serbs, begin waking up and are more than glad that they have a scape-goat for all the volunteers, for all the irregulars they have sent to slaughter people across their borders. They would have given the general up for less than the prize Ollie Rehn offers now. But there is no Ratko Mladic around. That is why it just may be that he is already dead. If he is not, he might be waiting for Carla del Ponte to retire one of these few months and to show that her approach was wrong. I expected him to give himself up to be a witness in Slobodan Milosevic's defense bout. That would have been the right thing to do and at least prove to the world that Milosevic was wrongly accused, that it was him, not Slobo, the icon of the Serbs. That is what I have predicted, but, eventually, a vis major got into the line of logical action. General Mladic might have been silenced roughly at about that time. Eventually, without a legal wrap-up of Slobodan Milosevic's indictment, without anything proven against the supreme leader - The Hague is crippled. The ICTY will be a miserable episode for all international tribunals of this kind, a mockery of justice, a huge legal stain.
I suspect that if alive - General Ratko Mladic wants to accomplish that before facing his Lord and eternal justice. Such a hypothetical course of action will not absolve Mladic from the ghastly crime he allowed or ordered. But if he is alive - I do understand, I think, why he is not helping the Serbs and the "international community" by giving himself up.
None of the two deserve it.
I think that that is his point and he makes it so clearly, if he is alive. Only chiseling that message in the conscience of the Serbs and the arrogance of NATO - may be worth enduring the misery he has been exposed to for the past 4-5 years...
With blogging and podcasting already under my arm, the next thing
I'd like to do is broadcasting by broadband. The world is shrinking
as I grow older, the markets are growing and I still have not got a
clue how to sell my vast traveling experiences. There is no doubt
that there must be some video content: the images and the sounds of
the places I feel you people would like to hear about. You bet I'll
provide the fragrances and the suggestions, the personal touch.
This may involve media on the move, creation and management and
delivery of content. All this will be at your arms length in
Amsterdam's RAI, at the Jubilee IBC conference and exhibition 6-11
September 2007. Although I find this a most rewarding experience,
this year I am afraid I'll miss it. I'll be in France and Spain
shooting some content while other people discuss how to produce and
deliver it. The conference (its chairman is David Crawford) is
crucial but you will go nuts with the exhibition. Every single new
aspect of content creation is presented out there. It is a
revelation. You simply have to be there to believe this. If you do
not go half as enthusiastic as I have always been with the IBC big
event - then, Amsterdam is at its background and September is
simply gorgeous. Enjoy it.
So, you people skip the hard questions, don't you? What is this?
Hundreds flock to read posts about stupid Eurosong bruhaha but
numbers dwindle when I ask your comment whether Gypsies stink, as
the president of Rumania said the other day. Come on, dont be scared. There are pictures and a full
set of questions for you to answer Dont be so miserably
pathetic. Get involved.
Goggy
Woonplaats: AmstelveenBeroep: Journalist
Man
Mojot Super Podcast!
Eve vi ubava prilika! Ova e link za mojata nova serija
podkasti na kolokvijalen makedonski jazik! Ne mu ja mislite. Sega
mu e momentot. Ednostavno kliknite ovde - i tamu ste! Ve molam
ostavite komentar! There will be a special English podcast
library there too. Have you listened yet to my very first podcast in
English? Now is the best time. Click here - comment there!
Counter
Come, Join Seed Newsvine!
This may
serve you to develop new and interesting experiences. All it takes
is click the link.
Link to Seed Newsvine. Opens up a different world,
different community. Then, which more important, you can promote
your or other texts, blogs, posts that you would like thousands of
people to know about.
All-Macedonian Podcasts
Grozdan Popov's New Series: Musing Over Public Faces
Well, this is
just the beginning of an idea, pretty entangled right now, very
private, almost intimate. It is about my personal feelings arising
from a visual contact with faces of public figures by proxy. I
mean, this is sort of reflections triggered by published pictures
of various people without or definitely before
reading a word about their characters. Say, so far there are these
accounts about Giovanni Accongiagioco Elkann, of the Agnelli
family; Howard Stern, the King of All Media in the USA;
Barack Obama, possibly the next US President; Toshihiko
Fukui, governor of the Bank of Japan; Patricia Joan
Remak, former Dutch MP, now convict; Peter Hartz, VW and
Germany's super crook; Chad Hurley, co-establisher of
YouTube; Nobuyoki Oneida, CFO of Sony Corporation;
Florentine Rost van Tonningen, Dutch Black Widow I'll
read your portraits too, if you send the pic! TRY ME So,
all you need to do is Click
here to go there. Those portraits are interesting pics.
The Archives
Neque porro
quisquam est qui dolorem ipsum quia dolor sit amet, consectetur,
adipisci velit Neque porro quisquam est qui dolorem ipsum quia
dolor sit amet, consectetur, adipisci velit I think Turkey deserves
every possible argument supporting its impressive drive to full EU
membership. This link takes you to a selection of my articles on
Turkey and related issues. There are numerous posts entered
that qualify under the term Macedonia . Some of them retain
their intrinsic value, others are reminders of once acute issues.
This link takes you to a full list of the entries
related to Macedonia and its people.
Turkey Now Festival
There is this
multi-faceted Turkey Now" festival in earnest preparation
going on all over town these days. If you read Het Parool
you would know this already. There will be, just after St.
Valentine Day, at least 20 events and one of the highlights is a
jazz concert that you can sample here: the
well known Ayse Tutuncu Trio but other stuff as well. So, it
will be fun. Some original "classic" Turkish music as well. More
information? Hit here then. One of the organizers is
Stichting
Kulsan established by the Turkish community in the Netherlands
in 1987 for promotion of the culture. It works hand-in-hand with
the Istanbul
Foundation for Culture and arts. There will be music, theatre
shows, dance and film. This is yet another Istanbul events link
A JOKE A DAY KEEPS THE BLUES AWAY
Tom, a
handsome dude, walked into a sports bar around 9:58 PM. He sat down
next to a blonde at the bar and stared up at the TV. The 10:00 news
was on. The news crew was covering a story of a man on ledge of a
large building preparing to jump. The blonde looked at Tom and
said, -Do you think he'll jump? Tom says, -You know, I bet he'll
jump. The blonde replied, -Well, I bet he won't. Tom placed a $20
bill on the bar and said, -You're on!" Just as the blonde placed
her money on the bar, the guy on the ledge did a swan dive off the
building, falling to his death. The blonde was very upset, but
willingly handed her $20 to Tom, saying, -Fair's Fair. Here's your
money. Tom replied, -I can't take your money, I saw this earlier on
the 5 o'clock news and so I knew he would jump. The blonde replied,
-I did too; but I didn't think he'd do it again. Tom took the
money.
Inspirational
Reading
Times
Literary Supplement Is one of my great pleasures. Sometimes I
use the paper sometimes the on-line edition. The topics are
carefully selected and absolutely first class. They are often my
well of inspiration. The TLS enrages me often and I write letters
to the Editor (Tom
Stothard, he also bloggs) who acknowledges their receipt
but throws them in the bin, though I'd prefer the other way round.
He will send you a sample copy for free so that you can check
whether I am right or no.
GLOBETROTTING
Some of you
may be interested in my impressions from travels around the world.
Just begun developing that site. A bit early for promoting it, but
that is how I tick. This is
your link if you wish to visit. The trips have taken me
over to Africa, Asia, North and South America, Australia and very
much around Europe. The software of that facility counts as
"one country" Lichtenstein with poor Vaduz and the USA with some 30
states (including Hawaii) as "one country" again. By such a count I
have covered paltry 17% of the globe. Which is funny. Navigating
though that site is not as easy as one may expect. But it is
interesting. See for yourselves if you like!
THE WORTH OF THIS WEBSITE plus $5,000 GOODWILL
TIME OFF
Try this. It is really fun and you may learn some...
WORLD'S EASIEST QUIZ Passing requires only 4
correct answers....a measly 40%. 1) How long did the Hundred Years
War last? 2) Which country makes Panama hats? 3) From which animal
do we get catgut? 4) In which month do Russians celebrate the
October Revolution? 5) What is a camel's hair brush made of? 6) The
Canary Islands is named after what animal? 7) What was King George
VI's first name? 8) What color is a purple finch? 9) Where are
Chinese gooseberries from? 10) What is the color of the black box
in a commercial airplane? All done? Check your answers
below! 
Panama hat:
hand-made exclusivily in Ecuador from a plant called Toquilla. 1)
How long did the Hundred Years War
last? 216 years 2) Which country makes Panama
hats? Ecuador 3) From which animal do we get
catgut? Sheep and
Horses 4) In which month do Russians celebrate the October
Revolution? November 5) What is a camel's hair brush
made of? Squirrel fur 6)
The Canary Islands is named after what
animal? Dogs 7) What was King George VI's first
name? Albert 8) What color is a purple
finch? Crimson 9) Where are Chinese gooseberries
from? New Zealand 10) What is the color of the black
box in a commercial airplane?
Orange, of course. What do you mean you failed? That's
nothing. Do not frett. It is the language barrier, nothing else!
Panama hat:
hand-made exclusivily in Ecuador from a plant called Toquilla. 1)
How long did the Hundred Years War
last? 216 years 2) Which country makes Panama
hats? Ecuador 3) From which animal do we get
catgut? Sheep and
Horses 4) In which month do Russians celebrate the October
Revolution? November 5) What is a camel's hair brush
made of? Squirrel fur 6)
The Canary Islands is named after what
animal? Dogs 7) What was King George VI's first
name? Albert 8) What color is a purple
finch? Crimson 9) Where are Chinese gooseberries
from? New Zealand 10) What is the color of the black
box in a commercial airplane?
Orange, of course. What do you mean you failed? That's
nothing. Do not frett. It is the language barrier, nothing else!
The paths not taken
So, this is
about new places with unknown faces. About longitudes where the sun
casts different shadows and the air is full with new scents. This
is about awakening of memories for fresh beginnings and the comfort
of returning to old fireplaces. Above: The castle atop, typical
architecture, the Roman theatreseen from the
terrace of the best accommodationin Ohrid, Macedonia + + +
DO NOT MISS THIS: 
Believe you
me, I know every single trick from the vaults of the
newly announced Gogan's School of Newsmanship. Travelled
the world on the magic carpet woven from those subtleties, dined
and wined with kings, queens, princes, the lot. Go, hit the road.
Try it! (Left: Daddy with a student) 
THE TURKISH PART OF
CYPRUS will have een feest and I am invited. The man who
will be my host is a University professor who earned his Ph.D. in
economics from Utah, but I think he is nowhere close to the
religion preached out there.
Eureka, Eureka!
After a year
of fun and play we, the bloggers, know that there is a lot
of time, effort and skill poured into the VK. I believe that GJB
and us could chat a bit about a new, commercial, twist to the
individual pages. Since we are a sort of one big family maybe we
should see whether and how we could contribute to the costs of this
facility, gather money for improving it and, doing so, earn a
decent buck individually. The proposal is simple. GJB supplies
those who are interested the price-list for a 300x300 pix slot on
this column, agrees to pay us commission (which he anyways pays to
others) and we contract sponsors who pay directly to VK upon which
VK shells out our part. We as authors do not promote
those sponsors in our posts. There are parties which do not even
know about the VK but may be interested to advertise here for any
reason, especially sponsoring an acquaintance's or friend's hobby
or whatever. To secure that the big-time advertising wizards are
not affected, we, the small fry, would be allowed to bring adds at
least 600 pixels under the ad at the top for which VK gets
money. So, that is it. Simple like Senate Beans Soup. But please click
here and have a say, file your post on the other side. Go there
now. Pleeese!
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