To ...

... all gawkers at accidents and misery: I hate you. With a fervent passion. Try to get some honest excitement in your life instead of having to hover over someone else's misfortune as if it's entertainment.

You bastards.

Right.

That said and done; Next!
We all need a little criticism. It's a goods thing. We all need a little praise. That too is a good thing. But I have a sneaking suspicion that too much of either makes us ineffectual and stale and inactive. So: don't judge others too harshly, too strongly or too blatantly. Certainly do not walk up to someone to tell them that they think too much of themselves. It's fucking rude. Certainly so if that person is really trying very hard indeed.

You bastards.

Again.

You know, I wouldn't be surprised at all if all people who are overly critical turn out to be gawkers at accidents. Uncaring, unfeeling, shit-for-brains.

/rant over.

Pointless ...

... information: if I try to type in the name 'Hilleke' in an SMS it throws up 'Gillelf'. A screaming elf. Well ... how convenient.

This ...

... just in: Satan does not use Friendster.

There is, however, a God on there. In the guise of a young man from Amsterdam.

That'll be all, folks.










http://www.friendster.com/

I don't use it. But if you're going to make a joke about it it's nice to link to it.

I would like some explanation, though. What is this current obsession with network sites ... Hyves, friendster, MySpace ... as far as I can tell it's just people ahving a few pics up maybe meeting poeple who never talk to them again and who call themselves 'friends' and then meeting people they have lost contact with over the years who therefore cannot be all that important because, you know, they LOST contact over the years.

Am I missing a point here?

besides. Some of the bastards whom I met on my trek through, for example, my schools I wouldn't want to see even a hint of a shadow from. Let alone add them as 'friend'.

What ho ...

... supposedly Santa Claus is no longer allowed to say 'Ho Ho Ho'. This is because Ho's are bad, I gather, in America. they should get better ones ... or, you know, a better mindset about the ones they already have. Plus, censorship of a fictional character is ludicrous to the extreme. Next thing you know they'll censor Donald Duck for being hard to understand and an affront to people with a speech problem.

Americans are bastards.

At work. Having cookies. And doing the occassional bit of work, even. Pretty soon I'll be ... alone ... so, currently I'm quietly enjoying the fact that this is the last week that I'm capable of actually shifting responsibilty and blame to other people. Oh well.

My darling father of 70 years old has accepted a temporary teaching job! He's going to join my girlfriend at her school for a period of five weeks due to a little misunderstanding that led to a position opening up for a few weeks. Now, he has 35 years of teaching experience so I'll trust that everything will be okay. I still wish him all the best, though. And give the assurance that we will visit bloody vengeance on any disrespectful youth who gets in his way. None shall stand before us, of those who think to harm my old man.

On a less vengefull note: it seems that Suusje gave this same speech to her own class and they were suitably impressed with her vehemence.

Still: nice that such an old man can finally manage to be gainfully employed and be a contributing factor in today's society and not only leech off the economy.

Updated the other one!

YAY!

http://beofauxto.blogspot.com/2007/11/finally.html

There also: The Bathroom Woodpecker!

I have had a nice evening with my family and I have finally received my grandfather's old watch. It's one of those old pocket-watches which one should fasten to your clothing by means of a chain. It's by now older than my granddad managed to become since he died way too early. You don't always get what you want. But I have his watch and I think it's a fabulous keep-sake. Something to remember him by.

Not that I really was in any danger of forgetting him.

This was a gentleman who, in the interbellum, a time of general discontent and crisis, protested against circumstances by laying Amsterdam's horse-drawn trams on their side with a couple of buddies.

How can you not love someone who managed THAT?

Yesterday ...

... I invented the bathroom woodpecker. This is a bird that manifests itself by rythmically tapping the pipes in the bathroom. It's strangely averse to light but, as I am assured, will fly out from open windows in the night to meet up with his friends from other bathrooms. Just so that you know. It's interesting what your mind kicks up, sometimes. But somehow the idea of a bathroom woodpecker made me very happy. And this is a good thing.

yesterday I had the pleasure to meet someone who objected to prostitution. Not so much the work itself but the fact that it was visible on the streets. Fascinating, right? This must be one of those ladies who sweeps the dirt from the floor under the rug until the rug is lying on one meter of filth all the while proclaiming that there's nothing wrong.

Sometimes I despair of single human specimens.

To clarify: I do not see prostitution as filth. I see them as a useful part of society. She didn't however. Rather rude.

I should update the other blog more. I have some new paintings, some new photographs and stuff but haven't taken the time to do something with them. I'm baaaaad. Sorry.

Another ...

... praise to Amsterdam piece. Yes, there are a lot of them. But let's face it, there's hardly a more rewarding thing then to be approached by a gaggle of italian tourists who are desperately seeking the Damstraat because there one can find the Cannabis Museum. Apparently. I love that stuff. It's nice to walk around this town and see tourists look around and be amazed and think to yourself that you are working in the best town around.

Chauvinism is the virtue of the vicious.

Anyway. Love it here. Even in this rancid time of year. Awfully dark and dank weather.

Something else: http://www.bowmore.co.uk/BlackBowmore.aspx

Oh. My. God. Me want precioussss!!!

Interesting ...

... show today on VH1. Yes, I was surprised too.

The 50 worst videos ever.

And let me tell you, there were some howlers there. Color me badd (with: Girl, I want to sex you up ... this from four guys who never had sex because they were ugly. Oh, and one has to be gay. There was this line in it: We'll do it ... 'till we wake up. I have to say that if you manage to fall asleep whilst performing a sexual act you may have issues.) Vanilla Ice, naturally. (Essentially that nice white rap fellow who ripped off a queen bass-line). That gentlemen who likes to 'move it'. Whatever 'it' might be and where-ever it needs to be moved to. I suspect he has a van, though. There was a combo called ToTo Coelho with I Eat Cannibals, funniest song title in a long time. Then there was a hideous, hideous song by a 'girl' called Danni ... which clip featured .... THE SOURCE, Cole Turner, from Charmed ... in a fluorescent green/pink shirt, I'm sure he likes to forget that ... but they considered Eiffel65 to have delivered the biggest hit on our good taste with 'I'm Blue'.

Now, that is bad.

But nowhere near the worst.

the worst was in there, though. And it's a hideous piece of cynical money-grabbing necrophillia ... Five and Queen singing We Will Rock You. There was a lot of money earned on that one. And it's shyte. I don't even like Queen, but I recognise that this version does nothing, adds nothing, brings nothing except cash to people who were rich already but liked the attention. And it's such a bad motive for creating anything, it's shocking. It's a piece of contemptable piss.

Honestly, I prefer Danni.

Well ...

... I finished The Stone Gods and it tuned out better than I envisaged. So, you know, get it, read it. It's not her best but her and its heart are in the right place. I have taken up reading Dune again. Mainly because, you know, it's that time of the year again. For some reason I always read some part of Dune again at least once a year. The originals, by the way, by Frank Herbert. Not his son's ... stuff. I have to go through sonny boy's work though. His father left the outline of the final book of the series and and son-dear is finishing the series. So, it'll be Frank's ideas in junior's language ... oh, boy. Still ... we'll see. Have to get it soonish.

Other than that: the Zwarte Pieten are hanging again in De Bijenkorf and out of pure sentimentality I visited them yesterday (that and more importantly, I needed to buy a gift for my girl). It's nice to see that certain things still remain. Eventhough I have the feeling that there's some qualityloss there, much to my regret.

Furthermore: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=epUk3T2Kfno

Too cute. There's a very good reason for this behaviour but you can bloody well google for it. I'm not going to spoil everything.

Also also: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rG_tnefyOcc

Started ...

... a new book today. The Stone Gods by Jeanette Winterson.

So far, I'm not too impressed. She herself claims that this is the first time she felt compelled from 'what was in front of her'; the state of the world. That said, I guess that means that the novel is too down too earth for me. Some of her other work has such a beautiful ethereal, floating, surreal quality. So ... beautifully 'other'. I guess that I look to her for my steady influx of the surreal. Dammit, I need my fix.

Plus, she's able to make words sit up and beg and roll over and make 'em do whatever she wants. Miss Winterson is a poet within the realms of the novel. And, this time, I'm just not feeling it, that love for language she usually displays and that great control she has over it. Instead of passion for the word, the novel, the story this is an angry undertaking.

But it has it's heart in the right place. It does want to show us something important. So, you know, what do I know. Hell, the book before this one was the latest Terry Pratchett. Bye-bye literary standards ...

't was a good giggle, though.