THE NOBILITY OF THE FROG

When I was fifteen I found some Americans in the middle of Eindhoven. Now, there are millions of Americans, as you know. And they do travel. But Eindhoven is not on the beaten track for peripatetic Yanks, being in nowise exotic or picturesque. There is nothing there of interest.

Of course, these Americans were Missionaries, trying desperately to interest the most cynical type of native in an area that exports more surplus cynicism than any other part of the Netherlands of the truth and beauty of their faith.
Glowing religious dreamers versus hardened skeptical peasants.
They were not having any luck.

Part of it was no doubt due to their particular use of the Dutch language. Rigidly bookish, lacking any colloquial flavour entirely, and spoken exactly as if it were a version of American English.
No one understood them, and no one wanted to even come close.

I made the mistake of speaking to them, and consequently ended up with them visiting our house every Monday for half a year, where I would give them orange juice and blow cigar-smoke at them while they talked.
They would cite passages from their tract, I would refer to something in the Pentateuch that completely contradicted their nonsense, we would move on to the next dubious factoid in their religion, and I would have some more coffee.
And light another cigar.
Or pour myself a shot from the genever bottle.
I would hospitably offer them coffee, and cigars too.

"Oh do just try them - they're made in this part of the world. Quite good, the locals swear by them."

They never drank any coffee or took any cigars, and they were HORRIFIED at the genever.
Abstentionism probably also worked against them in that neck of the woods, given the local fondness for cigars, coffee, and a shot of genever (often called 'The Holy Trinity' at local bars). Abjuring any one of those three marked one as both a rigid Protestant and a frightful bore.

[Local warmth was marked by hot coffee, cold genever, and an open box of cigars. Things have probably changed since then, but in my mind Brabant is still that way - 'bakske koffie, scheut jannevier, en 'nen bolknak. Schuif maer aen, joh'.]


My parents and my brother avoided the two missionaries with the same single-mindedness of the natives. Not even the thrill of speaking to other Americans could lure them into the sera while those gentlemen were there.

After their third visit my mother took me aside and reminded me of the times in Switzerland when I had caught frogs in the forest and brought them back to the hotel, placing them in the middle of our table on the terrace. She then told me "I very much preferred it when you brought back frogs."

After a few more Mondays I understood why she had said that.
Frogs are infinitely more conversationally gifted than missionaries. More useful too. Plus, unlike missionaries, they are likely to leave suddenly.
Marvelous creatures, frogs.

BOTTLED BILE

When did California become such a wussy-ass sanctimonious ghetto?
I know that tendency has always been here in truckloads - when I landed in Berkeley in 1978 the air was thick with fuzzy whale-saving and tree-hugging - but sometime in the last four or five years it has really gone overboard.

On the way back from my break I passed two pushy twats gathering signatures for some rainforest initiative, a frowsty earth-mother type handing out dolphin flyers, and a pasty anorexic stick-insect selling clean power buttons.
Plus some beaded cow informed me that smoking was evil.


"Tobacco drains the earth!!!"


'...Oh push off, Tinkerbelle!'


I also passed a scrawny half-wit begging for spare change. She was the only one who deserved my attention. Telling someone who is clearly NOT employable to get a job is both cruel and pointless, and dreadfully common - I may have been the only one of the well-fed office leite on that block to have given her money.
The rest of these people suck.

Moments ago I opened an e-mail from our social director / master of ceremonies / office manager / spirit-medium channeling for Mother Theresa.
Like many of that person's communications these past several years, it smarmed about some good cause. One which is dreadfully important, and we should all be involved.


"One of our goals with [ACRONYM DELETED] for the coming year is to make sure that all of you learn a little bit more about all the great things they do."


'...Frankly, Scarlett, I do not particularly care!!!'


I already donate to several charities, in addition to giving money to homeless people, purchasing candybars for worthwhile causes, and being politically involved.
Consequently, the frequent lectures about tofu, organic fair trade coffee, rescuing marmots, hugging trees, not using plastic when convenient, wearing sackcloth, or saving the planet for children I do not have nor am ever likely to have, all give me gas.

Please stop sending me these e-mails. I am in gonzen not interested. Unless someone is bleeding to death and you want all of us to come wring our hands shreying oy vey while digging the delicious sight, don't bother me. I am really not interested in doing politically correct saintly things in a group context.
Do not include me in your masturbatory social self-importance.


All of you sincere humourless anti-smoking tofu-snarfing green planet bunny huggers can go choke on some wheat-germ.
You are insufferable.
And you are breathing my air.

TEA PARTY DAYS

I missed out on the three major news stories of the past weekend.
Instead, I enjoyed the marvelous peace and quite that naturally resulted from being elsewhere while the world watched coverage of Michael Jackson's doctor, Sarah Palin gibbering at the gaping throngs of Trailerparkistan, and the Superbowl.
I am not interested in the death of a space alien, Alaskan bimbettes, or large sweaty men engaged in homoerotic behaviour.

I am somewhat curious about the Doctor Who performance at the ballgame during intermission. That sounds like a very novel entertainment to serve up..... but New Orleans IS a different world.
Still, doesn't make me want to watch sporting events.

I rather imagine that all three of those things would appeal to the type of people having a donnybrook in this video clip:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g1awwAgU_t8&feature=related

As you can see, a bunch of oafs and bumpkins. Especially by comparison.


TEA, TOBACCO, CURRY

Instead I called a snow day and spent Saturday reading and smoking (interrupted for dinner at a fine new Indian restaurant on Polk Street), twiddling my toes, and recovering from Friday night's whiskey.
Strong tea at regular intervals. Followed by another pipefull.

Sunday was much the same. Wandered about the city a bit with a pipe in my mouth, enjoying the stillness, drank a cup of tea at the office, read a bit, and smoked some more.
Had some curry, then more tea and tobacco.


Go ahead, watch that video clip again:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g1awwAgU_t8&feature=related

Impressive, isn't it? Music stills the savage beasts.


Notice how at one minute and twenty five seconds the Trailerparkistaners pause their heathen tumult and listen with slackjawed wonder to the strains of Alba an Aigh?
Normally I do not much favour the musical stylings of men in skirts, and consequently avoid ALL drag shows and amateur theatricals, but there's something stirring about this performance. Dignified, too. Perfect for a Sunday otherwise dominated by yokel passions.

Betcha there's nothing in that youtube clip that appeals to anyone who watched Michael Jackson's Doctor getting arraigned, Sarah Palin foaming at the mouth, or the sporting event. They probably don't smoke decent tobacco or drink strong tea either. Let alone appreciate a good curry. Barbarians.

WELL-FED WATER BUFFALO

My significant other (Savage Kitten) sent me a link to an article that mentions that water buffalo are now banned at political demonstrations in Jakarta. This after protestors incorporated one such beast in a rally to represent their president, Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono.

[See this article:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/n/a/2010/02/04/international/i021905S65.DTL ]



SEHI KARBAO, SI LANG-KAYA ITUI!

President Yudhoyono was less than pleased at the comparison.

"They said that I am like a buffalo — big and stupid and slow in moving. That statement is not ethical or moral, and to use a buffalo can violate other regulations, like traffic laws."

In many parts of Asia the water buffalo is thought of as a noble beast that stands it's ground, and represents a martial spirit. Perhaps not in Java.

But President Yudhoyono is right that a water buffalo does not belong in the city streets.

If it is in the city at all, it belongs in the stew pot.



ARE BUWAN PAWENGGEN

Following the rice harvest, the village is cleaned and made ready for the feast. On a day after the full moon (are-buwan), taboo markings are strung across the footpaths, to prevent outsiders from entering and disturbing the ritual. Water buffalos (karbao) are lead into the central clearing and tied to thick poles (tumbo ara - dedicated ceremonial pillars), with ropes braided of five colours leading from their various parts to ceremonial corners that anchor the settlement. After a chant invoking the spirit of the rice and the entities protecting the area, the beasts are killed in the names of the clans (tantam) that provided the sacrifice. The gushing blood is drained into the ground, the flesh is divided among the people.
It will be simmered with coconut milk (santen), turmeric (tamo kunit, a sacred plant), galangal (langkuwas, a fragrant dwarf-ginger), and chilies (tjabe) till soft and tender enough that even the toothless elderly can enjoy it, served with cooked rice (nasip).
Because of ritual purity, lime juice will be used in lieu of tamarind, salt instead of fishpaste.

[Note: Tantam are not really clans, but rather associations that form when lineages are too closely related for marriage purposes, and therefore naturally share taboos, sacred histories, and rituals.]


That evening, the first of the rice wine will be drunk. And drunk. And drunk.
Songs will ring out, chants boasting about the ancestors and their martial achievements, lyrics celebrating the sleek beauty of the women, the proud postures of the men. Grandmother drums (dadap ambo) sound loudly, the bamboo-slat floor of the communal hall shakes and vibrates with the feet of the dancers.
There is much laughter.

Half the settlement wakes up severely hung-over next morning. The other half won't rise till late afternoon.

Inevitably some of the pretty teenagers will be pregnant after the feast.
Their swains will ask the approval of their clans for a wedding, and there will be blushing brides before too long. Unlike the folks downriver, these people marry strictly according to corrolary lineages within the cluster of villages. But the farmlands and animals are still passed along the female line, and the young lady is still gifted with a field of her own, as well as the necessary buffalo.


Other reasons for a feast-sacrifice are agreements between lineages, success in war, the building of a new communal hall, dedicating an lineage monument, or even liability for offenses like cursing the water source, blighting the fields, or attracting evil - all sins facilitated by murder, incest, or menstrual blood used in magic.
Not only buffalo are sacrificed, but also pigs, goats, and chickens. And often there is less of a religious connotation to the event than a ritual-obligation, or simply an approved reason to pig-out and show-off.


It is said about one such feast that "the people ate for days and days, to show that they were rich and majestic; those that gave the feast were bankrupt afterwards but very respected".

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Note that many cultures in Indonesia and South-East Asia celebrate with water buffalo. Almost all do so in the context of sacrificing, frequently after the harvest or at an impressive funeral for an important person. Unlike cows, water buffalo are exceedingly good to eat.

Note also that except in matters of extreme need, there are no sacrifices after the rains come. Probably for two reasons - the first being that splashing animal blood does not drain into the sodden dirt, but instead forms puddles of ruddy muck, the second being that between lumeri tuwa (the sealing of the agricultural year in October) and lumeri mura (the opening of the agricultural year in February) it is customary to drink overmuch and raid villages on the other side of the mountain, taking heads and settling feuds.
It's a headache either way.

ALONE WITH MY STOMACH

It is not raining again. But last night I dreamed that it was, somewhere else.
As with much of the chaos in my head, barely below the surface of consciousness, images and experiences bubble to the surface when real-time stimuli prod the mud at the bottom of the pond.
It's guided mental anarchy.

I had trouble getting to sleep because of the poorest excuse for rogan josh ever.


KASHMIRI LAMB

Rogan josh is made by seething mutton chunks on the bone in their own fat as it exudes in the pan, adding lal mirch, adrak, zeera, lavang, darchini. Some onion puree, not too much. The spices and exuded fats, plus the moisture naturally also present, combine to make a rich sauce which highlights the caramelized meat chunks, the cooking leaches goodness from the bone and permeates it into the dish.

What I was served was overly salty lamb curry with far too much browned onion and fennel seed. The naans were pretty darned bad too.

There were other things wrong with the meal, but I shall not dwell upon them, or mention the name of the overpriced restaurant that served this abortion. The menu-writer may be a pretentious conman and a culinary cripple, but the even though the waitstaff are remarkably ignorant, they are exceptionally well-mannered and hardworking, and I would not wish them to suffer a loss of livelihood because of something posted anonymously on the internet.

The meal sat in my stomach for several hours, providing the real-time stimuli mentioned above.
The pond with things floating to the surface is an apt metaphor.
Not only for the mud-mind, but also the angry digestive system.

Guided mental anarchy is a process of deliberately clearing the mind, then letting images and thoughts arise of their own accord - and choosing which ones to dwell upon.
Usually it leads to sound sleep, and very vivid dreams.


MARWAR JUNCTION

A covered station platform, deserted in late afternoon. The train to 'Somewhere-ahead' was delayed, and might not come today. Summer, grey skies, a warm downpour beyond the overhang. At four thirty the lights near the waiting room in the centre of the station came on, because of the darkness of the day. At the far end of the platform there were no lights.
The view down the tracks in the direction of 'Somewhere-behind' was of high grass and shrubs, thickets, and rain rain rain rain rain.
There should not have been a train-station there, as there was no municipality to serve. No houses. No roads. No settlement or buildings. No ticket agent, no people.
Unpopulated, desolately green, and overgrown.
Just a train-station in the rain, between somewhere ahead and somewhere behind.

There are few similarities between a deserted train-station in nowhere and worse-than-mediocre rogan josh.


US KHANA-ME BAHUT NAMAK HAI

Why is it that respectable Indian cooks allow themselves to be bamboozled by some slick marketing-wallah into cooking generic mediocre curries for the gora-log? Yes, ninety percent of your customers are stupid Angrezis who don't know any better, and are mighty impressed by the fine china and polished flatware, as well as a fortune spent on ambiance - but shouldn't the food be what you pride yourself on? Can't you convince the damned manager to keep his big beaky nose out of the kitchen? What possessed you to serve that salty slop?

Even the papad tasted too salty.

How on earth did you manage that?

If the food tastes normal to you, I would respectfully suggest that you are compensating for an alcohol-related dietary deficiency. Please visit Betty Ford, and allow someone with active taste-buds and sufficient knowledge of Indian cuisine to take over while you are gone.

Until your cooking improves, I shall be at the train station.

I'll wait for an end to the rain and the arrival of the connection to Somewhere-ahead. Patiently in the dark at the end of the platform, smoking my pipe and overlooking the green green grass and the wet-black trees, puffing whisps into the shadows, listening to the water cascading down the drain-pipes.
Perhaps wondering who in that silent empty place turned on the lights near the waiting room in the middle of the station.

SUCH NICE YOUNG LADIES

It shames me to say it, but I do not remember the names of most of the people with whom I was at school in Valkenswaard. Thirty five years ago is not that long a time, and I have a good memory. But perhaps it can be blamed on the egocentrism of youth.

I remember four girls from high-school: Babs (Barbara) De Waard, Bertje (Bertina) Klerk, Uki (Ursula) Schneider, and Anita Koenig. And yes, you guessed correctly that their attractiveness plays a strong part in that memory.
Babs was a small pretty brunette with a lively personality, Bertje was slender, charming and had blonde hair, and Uki Schneider was blonde, elfin, and utterly delicious.

Anita Koenig hated my guts with a passion - she used to kick me fiercely on the shins, leaving wounds as painful as any gained from playing field-hockey during physical education.

[Forty hormonally rampant teenage anarchists armed with hard pieces of wood on a muddy field, unable to comprehend even the basics of sportsmanship, and not a teacher to be seen ...... ]


Although I can only remember her glaring vindictively in my direction, Anita Koenig, when I think about it, was probably also very cute. All intelligent women are cute. There's just something about expressiveness, and eyes that reflect an active brain, that is incredibly good-looking.

No, I do not remember any of the boys.

From grammar school I remember Astrid Delwel and her two companions, whose names I cannot for the life of me recall.
Astrid was the liveliest of the three, and the most intelligent. Even as a teenager she was very small. I don't think she ever topped five feet. The other two were the same height and build, but perhaps not quite so interesting.

I do not remember any of the boys.

Anita Koenig had been to the same grammar school as myself, likewise her siblings. Her vicious younger brother was a belligerent pest, who undoubtedly has gone far in life. At the time he may have been resentful of the exclusionary tendencies of other kids in Valkenswaard - the natives presented a closed social group, and the Koenigs were outsiders only recently come to the south.
Anita always protected him, and took revenge on his behalf. I think that may be why she kicked me. I did not much like him.

Her younger sister was a small shy girl with a pretty smile and bright eyes, whom I remember as having both grace and kindness. A very sweet young lady, four or five years younger than me, who smelled nice.
There was something winsome and sparkling about her personality which has made me think of her a number of times in the years since.

I sincerely wish that I could remember her name.

DUTCH AMBIVALENCE ABOUT BESTIALITY

A slim majority of Dutch parliamentarians is opposed to sex with animals. So it looks like the Netherlands will finally forbid practices that the rest of the world has long labeled reprehensible.

Only Liberals and Christians opposed outlawing bestiality.


Quote:
Eerste Kamer voor verbod seks met dieren
DEN HAAG - In navolging van de Tweede Kamer heeft dinsdag ook de Eerste Kamer ingestemd met het voorstel om seks en pornografie met dieren strafbaar te stellen. Alleen CDA en VVD in de Eerste Kamer stemden tegen.

[Translation: First chamber in favour of ban on sex with animals; Den Haag - Following after the second chamber, the first chamber also voted to make bestiality and animal pornography punishable. Only the Christian Democratic Appeal and the VVD voted against.]

SOURCE:
http://www.telegraaf.nl/binnenland/5938824/__Verbod_seks_met_dieren__.html?p=26,2


The proposal to ban physical congress with animals came from Harm Waalkens, a member of the labour party in the second chamber.

Quote:
Waalkens kwam met zijn initiatief om vooral de handel in gefilmde bestialiteiten met dieren op internet te beteugelen. Veel daarvan blijkt te worden vervaardigd in Nederland.

[Translation: Waalkens intent was primarily to limit the trade in filmed bestiality on the internet, much of which proves to be produced in the Netherlands.]


Even though this blogger does not wish to see restrictions imposed on capitalism (pretty much invented by the Dutch), and while it can also be argued that destroying so flourishing an export business is fiscally irresponsible given the current world-wide recession - especially for a small country like Holland - I can only applaud this as a noble first step.

Now they still need to do something about the international trade in women-flesh, for which the Netherlands is ground zero, as well as the manufacture and widespread use of date-rape drugs.

Plus snuff films.

But they may likely wait till better economic times.
As undoubtedly the Christian Democrats and the VVD will insist.

One shouldn't try to take too many steps all at once, especially when the financial impact on jobs, trade, and the Dutch tourist industry is not yet clear.

=======================================================

NOTE:

When the Dutch ban on bestiality goes into effect, this lovely video of a large confused bird may become illegal:
http://www.break.com/index/rare-bird-humps-photographers-head.html

Watch Sirocco (a flightless groundparrot) having a go at the head of a naturalist while you still have a chance. New Zealand was so charmed by him that they have declared him an ambassador for his kind.

You can find out more about him and his kin here:
http://www.terranature.org/kakapo.htm

They are beautiful birds, albeit randy little perverts.
Mankind's feathered degenerate friends.

REMEMBERING THE TELLER OF TALES

Probably the best teacher that I have ever had was Mr. Goes at the Openbare Lagere School (public grammar school) in Valkenswaard.
There were less than a hundred students at the school, grades one through six. Most children in North-Brabant went either to Catholic schools or strict Protestant schools. Non-denominational education was still seen as the breeding ground of vice, depravities, and heresy in that part of the world.
The majority of local children attended Catholic schools, and felt vastly superior to us heathens. The children of the local pornography merchants were at strict Calvinist schools - contact with Papists and other streams of belief might pollute the little dears.

Jews, communists, free-thinkers, engineers, and foreigners all sent their kids to the Openbare Lagere School.

Where mijnheer Goes taught grades four, five, and six.

When I was in fourth grade (1970), he was already in his sixties. He was a fixture in the town, much disliked by the local Catholic hierarchy, who despised him for not turning us all into obedient little Catholics. He himself was a Catholic, and still had faith - surely he should've made us all hate our families and backgrounds, for the benefit of the church and the salvation of our immortal souls?
What on earth was wrong with him?


A large part of what was wrong with him was the result of the strict Catholic teachers seminary he had attended.


Showers once a week. Cold water. A monk walking up and down the row of stalls, peering in through a hole in the door to make certain that the young men bathing there were not touching their privates, and were in fact wearing the special underpants while bathing.


A cigar allowance for the senior students. Because smoking cigars shows stability and good values. It is also beneficial to the temperament, and lends gravitas. Cigar smoking is a darn good habit, all civilized men should smoke cigars, especially people in the teaching profession. That's just the way it is.


Severe punishment for students whose shoes had scuff marks. Future schoolteachers do not, under ANY circumstances, run. Ever.
It's undignified, and people might suspect criminality.


An obligatory fifteen minute amble around the quad after meals. At the same time, the lavatories would be locked down, because ONLY heathens (Protestants) go to the loo after eating. Everyone knows this. It's bad for the digestion.


Expulsion for associating with unsupervised younger persons of the opposite gender, reading unapproved newspapers, or smoking cigarettes. All of which led directly to hell, were moral failings of the highest order, and were best left to Protestants and sailors.

[A posting as a teacher after graduation, however, was expedited if the young man married. Preferably a young lady of impeccable background, to whom he would have been introduced by someone respectable. No holding hands or unchaperoned socializing before marriage.]



One can well imagine that four years of that regimen left mr. Goes with something approaching distaste for institutionalized Catholicism. Hence his accepting a posting in the hinterlands (!) at a public school (!!) to teach little heathens (!!!).

His mentoring left many students with a lively skepticism about officially sanctioned textbooks (ours did not tell us what the Dutch and Belgians had been up to in their colonies, but he filled in the gaps), an intense dislike for the obedient little sheep at respectable schools, and a keen appreciation for the delicious aroma of cheap cigars (two such in the morning while lecturing, two in the afternoon while enforcing quiet study or teaching drawing class, one while teaching music to private students after school).

He taught by telling stories.

I still vividly remember admiral Michiel De Ruyter storming up the channel scattering the enemy fleets on either side, Charlemagne's meeting with Elegast in the forest, and Moses blowing his top and whacking the Egyptian.

The assassination of William the Taciturn exposed the ruthless traitors supporting Philip of Spain, the lynching of grand-pensionary Jan de Witt was a disaster from which the nation never recovered; it marked the end of Dutch achievement, and the twilight slide into the corrupt and decadent periwig period.

The empire in the east, from which American perfidy expelled the Dutch in the post-war period, was Holland's greatest triumph, but also her darkest page. And what the Americans had done to the Indians in North-America paled somewhat in comparison to what the Dutch had done in South Africa, in Ceylon, in Aceh, in Java, in Bali...... but both the Dutch and the Americans were mere amateurs compared to the Spanish and Portuguese, who were devils in human form, bloodthirsty, tyrannical, and cruel. A pox upon them.


Once he mentioned the Spanish, it was only a matter of time before, good Catholic that he was, he would curse the church, damn the southern Catholic nations without mercy, and excoriate King Philip and the Duke of Alva as unregenerate swine burning in the hottest fires of hell.

All of which he expressed with splendid eloquence.

While gently smoking his cigar down to the last inch, the lengthening ash never falling off. A mesmerizing performance.

It was thus that history and geography came alive for us.


He was also pretty good at teaching grammar and mathematics

BIG HEAP OF TOBACCO

A friend mentioned that he was interested in my tobacco posts, and asked if there was any easy way to get at all of them. The reason for his query was probably because of all the other stuff on my blog. Wombats. Zebras. Cantonese teenagers. Existential angst.

Just too much stuff. It gets in the way.

I can understand the complaint, and really do want to cater to the tobacco heads. Who have no interest in anything else.
So I have created a new clickable link on the side-bar ('TOBACCO LIST'), which will always take you directly to this very post.

Which is where you will find links to all previous tobacco related posts.


TOBACCO POSTS

1. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2006/03/new-book.html
March 10, 2006. First tobacco post. I prove myself neurotic.

2. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2006/03/pipe-tobacco-some-g-l-pease-blends.html
March 24, 2006. Reviewing G.L. Pease tobaccos. Some background information on blending tobaccos. The beginning of my hoarding.

3. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2006/04/pipe-tobacco-some-dunhill-mixtures.html
APRIL 14, 2006. Rather verbose. Some Dunhill blends reviewed.

4. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2006/10/standard-english-balkan-blends.html
October 9, 2006. Quite readable, actually. Mention is made of Dunhill, Balkan Sobranie, Rattrays, and stuff like that.

5. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2006/10/drucquer-sons-ltd-pipe-tobacco-blends.html
Drucquer & Sons, Ltd. A well-known tobacco company that no longer exists, and their blends.
Royal Ransom, Levant, Mixture 805, Trafalgar, Red Lion, Arcadia Mixture, Temple Bar, Inns of Court, Prince's Blend, The Devil's Own, Ye Olde London Baccy, Blairgowrie, St. James.

6. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2006/10/they-are-beasts.html
A selection of thoroughly spiteful remarks.

7. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2006/10/not-enough-sleep-and-mouth-that-feels.html
Review of McClelland's No. 25 Virginia.

8. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/01/surfeit-of-pipe-tobacco.html
Gloating about my growing stockpile, and an outdated inventory list.

9. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/03/tobacco-hamsters-and-toads.html
Furry creatures and sweet cheeses in your crotch.

10. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/07/once-more-ancient-fragrance.html
SG 1792 Flake, Erinmore, Troost, Sail, Amphora, Theodorus Niemeyer, and fond memories of vomit. Followed by a favourable review of Cornell & Diehl's Opening Night.

11. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/07/smell-of-jock.html
Rattray' Jocks Mixture.

12. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/07/frighteningly-intelligent-future-pipe.html
Corrupting the young.

13. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/07/four-by-dan.html
Dan Pipe Tobacco: Limerick Virginia Flake, Shannon Sweet & Mellow, Hamborger Veermaster, and Tordenskjold Old Virginia Slices.

14. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/07/dunhill-is-not-dunhill.html
Everything I want you to know about Dunhill. You want to know it too.

15 http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/08/let-us-fume.html
GLP's Westminster, Cornell & Diehl's Opening Night and Manhattan Afternoon.
Not quite the coming of the Messiah, but darn close.

16 http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/08/pipe-smoking-advice.html
Pipesmoking pointers. Especially useful for teenage Cantonese-American females that wish to take up the noble habit (that precisely being a fond fantasy of mine).
Hello young lady, can I offer you some baccy?

17. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/08/red-rapparee-samarra.html
Red Rapparee and Samarra

18. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/08/current-leaves.html
Yenidje Highlander, by McClelland. Manhattan Afternoon, by Cornell & Diehl. Durbar Mixture, by Dunhill. Dunhill Light Flake. Frog Morton's Across the Pond. Kensington, by G. L. Pease. Bla bla bla.

19. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/08/three-latakia-macbaren-hh-vintage.html
MacBaren's HH Vintage Syrian, G. L. Pease's Kensington, Peterson's Old Dublin. Descriptions and reviews.

20. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/09/fermented-skunk-parts.html
Clan Pipe Tobacco. Some men are whores.

21. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/10/smell-that-son-its-smell-of-freedom.html
Gibbering, followed by a review of INDEPENDENCE, by DAN Tobacco. Degeneracy, depravity, and perversions - all of which have their place in the well-ordered life.

22. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/11/it-smells-like-victory.html
Nasty Dutchmen, unwashed sweaters, and Balkan Sobranie Mixture.

23. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/12/youthful-fragrance.html
Boasting about coming darn close to duplicating Balkan Sobranie plus teenage girls.

24. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/02/maltese-falcon-by-glpease.html
Review of G. L. Pease's Maltese Falcon.

25. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/03/charing-cross-mixture-by-g-l-pease.html
Review of G. L. Pease's Charing Cross Mixture.

26. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/05/smelling-like-pervert.html
Evocative of prostitution and disease.

27. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/06/three-tobaccos-and-something-about.html
Cheap Dutchmen and three tobaccos: Peterson's Sherlock Holmes Mixture, Roanoke by Grant's in SF, The Balkan Sasieni Smoking Mixture.

28. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/07/smells-like-old-lady.html
1792 FLAKE by Samuel Gawith & Co. Ltd.

29. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/07/smells-like-school-girl-smells-like.html
Penguins, wombats, parsees and rabbis ..... plus Sail Natural: Smooth Dutch Cavendish made by Theodorus Niemeyer.

30. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/07/transvestite-nightmare.html
A German-Irish degenerate: foul sex-funk among the tobaccos. Shannon.
Forty comments.

... ... ... ... ...

31. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/07/key-largo-by-g-l-pease-good-pipe-blend.html
Key Largo reviewed.

32. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/07/further-notes-regarding-key-largo.html
Key Largo, segue into Balkan Sobranie No. 10.

33. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/07/my-dalliance-with-trollop.html
Erinmore Flake - with a slight Rabbinic touch.

34. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/08/mcclelland-blackwoods-flake.html
If you liked aged pressed Virginias like Rattray's Old Gowrie or Marlin Flake, you may also like McClelland's Blackwoods Flake.

35. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/08/some-say-it-smells-like-underwear.html
Balkan Sobranie discussed, then other Balkans, as well as blending and stoving.

36. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/08/balkan-sobranie-postscript.html
I just won't shut up about the subject of Balkan Sobranie, good lord I'm a bore. This is a very long post packed with information.

37. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/08/change-of-pace-one-slutty-little.html
FOUNDERS RESERVE - THE MALTHOUSE Tobacco Manufactory by Dan Tobacco. Perfect for socializing with lesbians.

38. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/08/boring-tobacco-post.html
Maryland ribbons: Troost Baai by Van Rossem, Vier Heeren Baai by Theodorus Niemeyer, Voortrekker by Theodorus Niemeyer, Echte Baai Tabak by Erven De Weduwe Van Nelle, and Echte Friesche Heeren Baai by Douwe Egberts.

39. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/08/tawdry-old-tart.html
Erinmore Mixture. Ick, poo.

40. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/08/good-latakia-dump.html
Samuel Gawith's Commonwealth - Full Strength Mixture.

41. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/08/degenerate-man-of-god.html
Public School perversions and whipping naughty girls. Presbyterian Mixture.

42. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/08/john-cotton-fine-old-reek.html
John Cotton. And comparisons.

43. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/10/something-smelly-this-way-comes.html
Smoking Balkans, blending your own, and top-notch Lebanese hasheesh.

44. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/10/blowing-smoke-dunhill-durbar-mixture.html
Dunhill's Durbar Mixture. And a sweet young thing.

45. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/11/real-choices-in-this-election.html
Samuel Gawith's interpretation of the term Balkan. Hmmph!

46. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/11/astleys-no-99-full-latakia-mixture.html
Ashley's No. 99 Royal Tudor. Reviewed and in context.

47. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/02/something-he-said.html
"...when the conditions are right - dry Latakia tobacco, humidity in the air, and a certain light - I can still hear the clack of chess pieces, hear the flick of one page, as he reviews the games of the masters."

48. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/03/good-brown-flake.html
Full British flakes, and McClelland's Navy Cavendish reviewed.

49. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/03/drunken-excess-in-kendal.html
Latakia and teenage boys. Gawith Hoggarth Balkan Mixture.

50. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/04/christian-anti-smoker.html
In which this blogger shows his tolerance.

51. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/05/stinky-whore.html
The nastiest pipe tobacco ever. I bought a tin.

52. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/05/four-tobaccos.html
Odyssey and Samarra by G. L. Pease, something from the local tobacconist, and one of my own.

53. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/07/afrikaner-smoke-clouds.html
South African pipe tobaccos: Piet Retief, Best Blend, and Mild Gold.
Black & White, Giraffe, and Nineteen O'Four.
Assegai, Fox, Horseshoe, and Jock.

54. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/07/fragrant-concubine.html
About sex and nuzzling.

55. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/08/poncy-pleasure.html
Bengal Slices, Balkan Sobranie, and Samuel Gawith's Balkan Flake.

56. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/09/unwashed-flatulent-peasant-with-hint-of.html
It stinks. Not bad.

57. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/09/international-tobacconist-conspiracy.html
Mail order, Dunhill, Arcadia, and gloating.

58. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/09/nasty-hot-twiggy-bizarre-nauseating.html
The mystery-meat of tobaccos.

59. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/10/hobbit-smoke-virginia-woods.html
Virginia Woods by McClelland.

60. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/11/nasty-smelly-scots.html
Ugly people in kilts.

61. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/11/musical-interlude.html
Opera.

62. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/12/no-panties-left-behind.html
Balkan Sobranie, mushrooms, and no sex at all. Just move along now, nothing to see here.

63. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2010/01/pipe-smoking-for-young-ladies.html
Nice Cantonese-American girls and a review of Samuel Gawith's St. James Flake. Which is a very good choice, if you are a nice Cantonese-American girl who is thinking of taking up smoking.

64. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2010/01/ennerdale-flake.html
In which the word 'dubious' never once appears.

65. http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2010/01/open-mouthed-pleasures.html
The misspent youth revisited.

... ... ... ... ...

119080
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LEARNING DUTCH - JANUARY 27, 2010

[Fourth installment of an ongoing series (the previous installments can be seen here:
JAN 24 , JAN 18, and JAN 15.). This episode deals with gaiety in Dutch society.]

An article in the Dutch press mentions that a gentleman carrying the "wrong" shopping bag was beaten up by two men.
The incident occurred as the victim was leaving the shop 'Gays & Gadgets' on the Spui Straat with a purchase. Two persons described as young men accosted him verbally, then physically pushed him around. He used his cell phone afterwards to call the police - whereupon the two men returned and proceeded to viciously kick and punch him, even after he had fallen to the ground.
The victim has been hospitalized.

SOURCE:
http://www.telegraaf.nl/binnenland/5893212/__Man_mishandeld_om__homotasje___.html?p=13,2

The assault happened right in the centre of the city - the Spui Straat runs parallel to the Nieuwezijds Voorburgwal, the shop mentioned is less than three minutes walking distance from the Dam Square in one direction, or the Central Station in the other direction, it is right in between the Kortekorsjespoortsteeg and the Lijnbaansteeg. The area is a popular shopping and nightlife locale.

The victim is fifty years old.
The attackers are young men, maybe even juveniles, and possibly of Moroccan extraction.
The time was early evening.
The location is one of the busiest parts of the city, with a greater police-presence than almost anywhere else in town.

Oh, and by the way - though the newspaper informs us that he is straight, the victim was attacked for being perceived to be homosexual.
But his sexual proclivities are not material. Or at least, should not be an issue in so liberated a country as the Netherlands.

[The Netherlands is among the top destinations world-wide for sex-tourists, and all manner of sexualities are enthusiastically indulged - see this post:
http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/09/dutch-sexual-nuts.html .
People can get beaten up for any reason in Amsterdam; one can get beaten up for being gay, for being Moroccan or American, looking at someone funny, or even, if you can imagine it, for being Jewish - see:
http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/10/he-probably-deserved-it-he-was-wearing.html.
But as there are far more gays than Jews in post-war Holland, getting beaten up for being gay does seem to be more common.... see item no. 2 in this post:
http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/07/western-european-excellence.html .
A good sound thrashing is a very Dutch solution to anything that ails you, often called 'een goed pak slaag' or 'een schop onder de kont'.]



NEWSPAPER READERS REACT

The comments underneath the news article are potent indicators of a society quite different from our own.
I have taken three to stand in for all of them.

Example no. 1.
"Mijn kop eraf als dit geen homo is, maar nu moet hij wat rechtbreien voor zijn vrouw. Hij kocht gewoon een valentijns kadootje voor zijn vriend, homosexualiteit is verwerpelijk en ronduit walgelijk, deze viespeuk heeft een onwetende vrouw thuiszitten die nu risico loopt allerlei vieze ziektes op te lopen."
koos rademakers, amsterdam 21:35 27.01.10

Translation: 'My head off if this ain't a homo, but now he has something to knit straight for his woman. He simply bought a Valentine's present for his friend, homosexuality is reprehensible and all-round loathsome, this filthy bugger has an unknowing wife sitting at home who is now at risk of all manner of filthy diseases.'

Commentary: Mr. Koos Rademakers does not seem concerned about the assault, and wishes to jump to conclusions unsupported by any evidence. His spitefulness towards gays is, in the context of a hate-crime, both misplaced and a perfect illustration of the problem. His comment is a classic example of blaming the victim as well as of bigoted thinking - tendencies still common in old-world circles; the Dutch police standardly caution Jews and foreigners to stop being so provocative.
Given the prevalence of people like Mr. Koos Rademakers that is sage advice.

NOTE: To knit something straight (iets recht breien) colourfully expresses the effort required in constructing a believable excuse.
Verwerpelijk means rejectable, repulsive, to be disdained.
Viespeuk literally means a filthy butt-end of something. A peuk is commonly a cigarette butt, of which there are numberous examples on Dutch streets now that smoking in bars and cafes is outlawed, just like in California.


Example no. 2.
"Hoe kun je als blanke man de gemeente Amsterdam om hulp vragen. De prioriteiten van deze discriminerende gemeente liggen bij andere bevolkingsgroepen. Ook Guusje Ter Horst heeft in haar politiekorps een voorkeur voor gekleurde mannen en vrouwen. Dit is de officiele PvdA lijn."
Andre, Leimuiden 21:40 27.01.10

Translation: 'How can you as a white man (ever) ask the city of Amsterdam for assistance? The priorities of this discriminatory municipality lie with other ethnicities. Even Guusje Ter Horst has a preference for coloured men and women in her police force. This is the official Labour Party program.'

Commentary: There is a perception in the Netherlands that 'those folks' are coddled more than 'us white natives', and that this is the fault of the Labour Party. In actual fact, given that not being lily-white in the Netherlands always marks you as neither 'really Dutch' nor 'our kind of people', and because of research that has shown that all else being equal, the person with the Dutch name gets the job-interview and the apartment, I find it hard to support this point of view.
Having lived over there as an American, I do not consider the position of outsider in Dutch society very coddled.

NOTE: Moroccans get blamed for everything that is wrong in Dutch society, precisely like Jews and Catholics once were castigated. There are still a large number of Catholics in the Netherlands, but they have been politically emancipated in the last three or four generations, and nowadays it would be politically incorrect to blame them for anything.
Especially now that they are considered equally Dutch and human.

Guusje Ter Horst is the minister of the interior in the current government. She too is blamed for everything that is wrong in Dutch society. To the best of my knowledge she is not of Moroccan extraction.


Example no. 3.
"Ik zelf als homo moet er een beetje om lachen dat een hetero door een andere hetero door een inschattingsfout in elkaar wordt geslagen. Maar dit geeft mij wel reden om een hetero die mij zou slaan omdat ik homo ben, in zelfverdediging te gaan en hem helemaal terug kapot zou slaan, hier wordt ik agressief van. En ik zal vast niet de enige zijn, niet alle homos zijn zo lief. Dit gaat nog es goed fout."
Frank de Vries, Eindhoven 21:50 27.01.10

Translation 'I myself as a homo have to laugh a little bit that a hetero got beaten up by another hetero because of a wrong assumption. But this verrily does give me a reason to thoroughly beat the crap out of a hetero who might assault me in self-defense, I really get aggressive from this. And I am probably not the only one, not all homos are so sweet. This will go seriously wrong at some point.'

Commentary: Mr. DeVries in Eindhoven seems to have a streak of schadenfreude a mile wide, and a keen (albeit insane) appreciation of the entertainment-value of bloodshed.
I would caution my readers not to jump to any conclusions about the good people of Eindhoven based on his example. Most of them are quite decent, although, as Brabanders, they do represent a more primitive Netherlandish stratum - what George Bush Sr. might have called 'a kinder, gentler' Dutchness.

NOTE: Brabanders, per the scribe of Paris five centuries ago, were "men of blood - brigands, rapists, and incendiarists". At that time they were also notorious mercenaries. They are no longer mercenary. At least not so much.



AFTERTHOUGHT

There are times when reading the Dutch newspapers convinces me that the Netherlands is far more dangerous than San Francisco. Certainly more violent.
But that perception is deceptive, the two are not comparable.
The Netherlands is more densely populated than the United States, and Dutch urban areas are neither in composition, nor hinterland served, equivalents of American metropoles. Certainly San Francisco north of Market Street is safer than Amsterdam or Rotterdam - but there are parts of the Bay Area which at times resemble a war zone, whereas the two Dams are actually somewhat quieter than the Bay Area taken as a whole.

OPEN MOUTHED PLEASURES

When I first returned to California (in 1978) there were three tobacconists in Berkeley and more than a dozen in San Francisco. This was good.
There were, however, only one or two cafes in Berkeley, and outside of North Beach virtually none in San Francisco. This was not good.
At that time it was comparatively easy to lay one's hands on excellent pipe-tobacco, but finding a decent cup of coffee required the dedicated single-mindedness of a mediaeval pilgrim.
Yes, most pipe smokers smoked crap - but fine Latakia blends were nevertheless widely available.
Beyond the immediate vicinity if the Caffe Trieste, the Roma, and Peet's Coffee and Tea in Berkeley, a good cup of Joe was impossible to find. Americans drank blackened bilge-water.


They still do. I shall not mention that outfit from Seattle - they've done more to ruin coffee than any other company.

Smoking is no longer acceptable.

Oral gratification has seriously fallen on hard times.



TASTES BOTH DARK AND DUTCH

The Netherlands had great coffee (it's still decent), and was close enough to England that acquiring a tin of fine tobacco did not present much of a problem. At most a matter of logistics.
[Of course it still is as close to England as it was then - but there are far fewer manufacturers of fine tobacco in Britian than once there were. The logistics have gotten far far worse.]

One of my fondest memories of Valkenswaard was playing hooky from high-school on rainy days, and spending hours seated at a table at one of the cafe terraces on the market square, reading, smoking, and swilling coffee. Like all students I was eternally short of funds. This necessitated dawdling over my cup so as not to exhaust my resources. But the plus-side was that the proprietor would ignore me - people who do not order do not require much attention, and there were seldom any other customers seated under the deep awnings in the middle of the day. Certainly no other students giving class a miss.

Things are quieter and gentler during rainy days, and hiding out at a cafe is far better than bicycling several miles to school. Far better to relax, drink coffee, and enjoy the rain-grayed scenery seen through haze.


The Netherlands is a very pleasant place at times, especially in spring and early autumn.
I read all of Shakespeare while smoking and swilling coffee.
All of Wordsworth. All of Coleridge. All of Tennyson. All of Keats, Shelly, and Byron. Then I took a dislike of the romantic poets, and switched my reading to Kipling, Nabokov, and Simenon.
I got so much reading done that I am surprised I ever graduated from high-school.


It is rainy-ish outside right now. But not cold. Not as cold as it was last week. There is a pouch of fragrant tobacco on my desk, and there are several briars to choose from.
If there were any cafe terraces where I could smoke, I would fake stomach flu right now and spend the rest of the afternoon reading....... occasionally looking out over streets softened and made gentle to the eyes by the moist weather.

THE JEW DESPITE HIMSELF

Yesterday evening I had a drink or two at a local watering hole.
I really should have had a drink or two before I even went there.........

Two of the regular customers were loudly upset that a third regular customer had used the word 'bitch' in oblique reference to one of them who had interrupted his conversation with a fourth regular customer.....
Additionally, they were disgruntled with a fifth regular customer who had tried to explain the context.


"HE'S JUST BROKEN UP WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND, SO DON'T BE A BITCH"

I will assume that the up-with-broken girlfriend is, in fact, also a regular customer. Who may or may not be a bitch in some ways. But probably not a dog. Given that a large number of the regular customers at that bar are more than passing superficial.

Some regular customers are also serious alcoholics, as was quite evident yesterday evening.
Not only all of the people involved in the bitch issue, also many others. The staff from a restaurant around the corner come in regularly after work to drink themselves blotto, as well as waiters and bartenders from several other places. There are also the artistic types - they're always drunk.
Plus fans of the Phillies, the Eagles, and other has-been sports teams or rock groups.

Being a very moderate drinker, I only go there for the drama.

I had intended to leave after only one drink - but the natives were so lively that I had five more.


SIDI ABOU SAKRAN

The evening ended for me when a wasted Mediterranean type, having lost the attention of the drunkards to his left, turned around and tried to engage me in conversation.

I answered him in Dutch, as a subtle hint that whatever he wished to discuss might not interest me. After ten minutes of talking back at him in Dutch it finally dawned on him that I was speaking some unintelligible foreign language. Much to my surprise he pegged it as Ivrit - I never thought any of the customers had even heard of Ivrit.
He then postulated loudly that I was from Jerusalem, which was obvious! This got the attention of several of the drunken bitch customers, who agreed that I was speaking Ivrit. QED.
Except for one who identified it as French.

According to the very drunken Mediterranean person, I should've just come clean and admitted being a Jew instead of so deviously hiding it by speaking Ivrit.
He slurred this very sincerely several times.
I responded, again in Dutch, that he was an intoxicated fruitloop who needed to make an appointment at a dry-out clinic as soon as possible.
Telling him so was also a Jewish thing to do. As it turns out.
Extrrrrremely Jewish.


The point of no conversational return had been reached.


Maintaining the mask of being densely foreign, when I left I cheerily told the bartender in Dutch that I'd see him next Sunday. In as heavy an accent as he could muster, he wished me a "mazel-tov skoal heineken" in return.

Somebody with a Mediterranean accent slurred 'shalom' as the door closed.

LEARNING DUTCH - JANUARY 24, 2010

Anyone who uses the internet is aware that while knowledge is now available to more people than at any previous point in human history, there is also much more paranoid nonsense that ropes in the weak-minded.
Just because you find it on the web does not mean that it is true, believable, or even sane.

The Netherlands is on par with the United States as far as being connected is concerned.
As many Dutch as Americans have access to the internet, and make energetic use of that access.
Predictably, the same proportion of them are quite as sensible and well-grounded as Americans.


By which I mean that a fair number are loopy, many even barking mad.
Utterly insane.
Stark ... raving ... gaaaaaaaaaaaa!



NIET-SPOREND NEDERLANDS
[Unbalanced Netherlandish.]

Consider this lovely comment underneath an article about the danger of an imminent Al Qaeda attack in De Telegraaf:
"Allemaal lariekoek! Propaganda van de corrupte Amerikaanse regering. Bin Laden is een nepfiguur. De Ladens waren kennissen van de familie Bush. Al-Qaeda is de CIA! Dus aanslagen worden gepleegd door Amerika zelf onder leiding van de nieuwe wereldorde! Dit allemaal om de wapenindustrie draaiende te houden en oorlogen te kunnen voeren!"

[Translation: Complete poppycock! Propaganda from the corrupt American government. Bin Laden is a figmentary figure. The Ladens were acquaintances of the Bush family. Al Qaeda is the CIA! So attacks are committed by America themselves under the leadership of the new world order. All to keep the weapons industry running and to wage war!"]


Source:
http://www.telegraaf.nl/buitenland/5869551/___Aanslag_al-Qaeda_ophanden___.html?p=14,1


There are a number of other comments there which echo this meshune fantasy. The usual anti-Americanism is present in the comment string, as well as a leavening of anti-Semitism (the only pan-European ideology since communism).
Also evident is a justifiable cynicism.
But the dominant theme is that it is all manipulation anyhow, and that Americans planned the attack on the World Trade Center and subsequent acts of terrorism.

As this lovely opinion makes clear:
"Misschien blazen de Amerikanen weer een paar towers op."

[Translation: Maybe the Americans will blow up another pair of towers.]


One commenter perfectly expresses modern European paranoid skepticism:
"Heel het terrorisme gebeuren is een complot van het Westen en Amerika om zo geld te kunnen verdienen. Bin Laden is een produkt die door de Amerikanen op de wereld is gezet. Islam terrorisme bestaat niet."

[Translation: The entire terrorist happening is a plot of the Western World and America to make money. Bin Laden is a product that the Americans brought into the world. Islamic terrorism doesn't exist.]


Another comment forcefully emphasizes that point:
"Typisch Amerika, om valse angst/paniek te zaaiën!"

[Translation: Typical (of) America, spreading false panic!]


Not all of the comments reflect that sour attitude of disbelief - though, typically Dutch, they are nevertheless sour:
"Heeft Bin Laden de aanslag op Haiti ook al opgeeist ? Wat moet die zuurkoolbaard nu nog doen om in vergelijking hiermee nog een beetje indruk te maken?"

[Translation: Has Bin Laden claimed credit for the attack on Haiti yet? What does that sauerkraut-beard have to do in order to make any impression in comparison with that?]



SAUERKRAUT BEARDS AND RED HERRINGS

Despite the prevalence of terms such as New-World Order, Illuminati, Bush Conspiracy, American Propaganda, and CIA, however, it isn't all anti-Yank agitation underneath that article. A fair number of comments are either pro-American or anti-Moslem, several are quite rational (!), and small number express sober apathy.

The most salient characteristic of the nearly one hundred comments is that many (most) of the writers are guilty of spelling errors and grammatical mistakes, as well as throwing syntactical misapprehension around like a pimp spreading nooky.
Likewise, capitalization and punctuation are as missing in action as logic.

If this is the fruit of a modern education, the noble language of Brederode and Vondel is in serious trouble. There may not be enough critical mass to keep it alive.

[I will freely admit that proper spelling, grammar, syntax, etcetera are not my constant companions. But an at-least passing adherence to the rules makes one's assertions more palatable than the appalling lapses and lacunae which the paranoid commit.]


While one might make similar observations about English-language internet commentary, the situation is not entirely comparable. A greater tendency to recognize crap and call the creators on it, as well as a massive influx of talented foreigners deserting their native tongues for English, ensures that Shakespeare's language will continue to thrive. Our bookshelves are littered with non-Anglo-Saxon nomens, the possessors of which have vastly enriched our knowledge and literature by writing in our language.

The same of course can be said for Dutch bookshelves..... a surfeit of foreign authors and their books in English.

-------------------------------------------

AFTERWORD

Multiple errors in the Dutch texts cited above have been corrected - spelling and capitalization in particular. This was done to improve readability.
Syntax, grammar, and logical flaws have been scrupulously undisturbed, as it would be dishonest to improve upon the thought processes illustrated, and doing so might even be considered a form of censorship.
We do not censor. Stultorum infinitus numerus est, as their own words must show.

WESTBORO BAPTISTS EN-ROUTE TO CIVILIZATION

A while back I posted about the Westboro Baptist Church visiting certain neighborhoods on the East-Coast. Which was very exciting, and in some ways cleansing.

[http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/09/westboro-baptist-church-planning-anti.html]



NOW IT'S OUR TURN!

The Westboro Baptist Church intends to visit the San Francisco Bay Area next week, and oooooh Nellie! are they steamed.

According to their website, they have a very busy schedule. Over a dozen places that NEED their kind attention, with the sowing of venom and the wheeping and the wailing and the angry vituperating and the gnashing of teeth ........

Should be fun for the entire family.



DATES AND TIMES:
[Lifted (with texts) from the WBC website: god hates fags dot com.]

01/28/2010 12:15 PM - 12:45 PM San Francisco, CA
Contemporary Jewish Museum ...
01/28/2010 1:10 PM - 1:40 PM San Francisco, CA
ADL San Fran style - You liars are leading bros to hell! 720 Market St You got a problem with WBC telling people what the Bible says on the subject of Jesus Christ, the fact that Jews Killed Jesus and that unless they repent of that crime they can NEVER see the Kingdom of Heaven? Too stinking bad. ...
01/28/2010 1:50 PM - 2:20 PM San Francisco, CA
JCC San Fran Style - Jews are Fags Really, 2 True! 3200 California St. WBC will have signs of truth and warning for these rebels who enable sin all around the world! Zionist freaks: It's NOT your land! What did you steal that land for? Give it back! God Hates Thieves! Thou Shalt Not Steal! Thous Shalt Not Kill! Why you tell the fags they're all good? God Hates Fag Enablers. Notice that murders and thieves know they have no moral authority to tell fags they cannot do what they are doing. These modern Jews are like their spiritual forefathers who told the tribe of Benjamin to let Sodomites rule in their land. ...
01/28/2010 3:20 PM - 3:50 PM San Francisco, CA
Lowell High School - SCHMOOZE FOR JEWS? Tell 'em truth! 1101 Eucalyptus Dr. WBC needs to come and show the little brutes what you all have failed to show them - OBEY GOD! ...
01/28/2010 7:20 PM - 8:00 PM San Francisco, CA
Golden Gate Theatre Fiddler on Roof - Your Traditions SUCK! 1 Taylor St WBC has their own little version of the song from this very musical. Traditions! That is what the Lord Jesus Christ focused on, and you know that. ...
01/29/2010 07:25 AM - 07:55 AM Palo Alto, CA
Gunn High School - Two words Kevin Jennings, hollar! 780 Arastradero Rd When you look at the good for nothing youth of California, what do you think? No brains, no truth, no life, no love for their neighbors! Therefore, WBC is determined that each place we go, all the children who you adults have lied to to, get this message: TWO WORDS define Antichrist Obama's "Education Plan", to wit: KEVIN JENNINGS, United States Education Czar. This fag who started GSAs and GLSEN Organizations all across DOOMED america. ...
01/29/2010 08:10 AM - 08:40 AM Palo Alto, CA
Stanford University Hillel - Hillel was pervert & in hell! 565 Mayfield Ave WBC needs to have a few words with these young people because all of the people who ever had any influence over them - LIED! What did you do that for? Why did you lie to those kids. ...
01/29/2010 10:00 AM - 10:30 AM San Francisco, CA
Congregation Beth Israel & Day School - Rabbis Rape Boys! 625/655 Brotherhood Way You pretentious Jews are in BIG trouble, and WBC has the duty - job really - to tell you about it. Once upon a time a Messiah came to this world to redeem the elect children. Although it was in FACT needful for him to die on the cross in order to pay that ransom, that does NOT take the responsibility for His death off of the backs of the Jews. Check it out, you lying hypocrites who pretend you can blame Pilate and the Romans who handed the Lord Jesus over to those brutal, fag Roman officers. ...
01/29/2010 11:00 AM - 11:30 AM San Francisco, CA
Jewish News Weekly of Northern California - God H8s Liars! 225 Bush St., Matthew 23:13 But woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye shut up the kingdom of heaven against men: for ye neither go in yourselves, neither suffer ye them that are entering to go in. ...
01/29/2010 11:45 AM - 12:15 AM San Francisco, CA
United States District Court - Justice For NONE, Fag'nablers 450 Golden Gate Ave WBC will enter that cursed land, again, and will step lightly. We are not encumbered with the baggage you all have. ...
01/29/2010 2:10 PM - 2:40 PM San Francisco, CA
Jewish Community High School of the Bay - No Hopes 4 U kids 1835 Ellis St. Listen up, you large group of rebellious BRATS: Obama hates you and will happily slaughter you on the alter of his campaign to become King of the World (do you see him posturing after that Haiti disaster? - forerunner I tell you). ...
01/29/2010 3:00 PM - 3:30 PM San Francisco, CA
George Washington High School - No Jobs For U Kids! 600 32nd Ave. WBC will do our duty to your children and come tell them a few facts, to wit: A) Your parents hate you; B) They and your teachers/instructors have lied to you from a real young age; C) You have no jobs in your future; D) Obama hates you; E) You will eat your babies. ...
01/29/2010 6:50 PM - 7:30 PM San Francisco, CA
The Randall Museum Theatre - Rent - stop lying to each other 199 Museum Way So, you think you can take fire into your belly and not get burned? You uptight white bread brats are putting on a production of Rent, huh? What do you spoiled Richy Rich brats know about having to rent anything? When Obama is done with you idiots, you will really hope you COULD rent something. ...

Source:
http://www.godhatesfags.com/schedule.html


My guess is that they won't make even half of their protest-appointments, and that they will loose at least two members to drugs and prostitutes while in San Francisco. Or three, if there are more than ten of them visiting.

If any Westboro Baptists run off to join the circus (or a gay revue), I shan't be a bit surprised - we have that effect on people.

Please note: I did not bother spellchecking this piece before posting it, seeing as over eighty percent of the text here is taken from the Westboro Baptists.
Spellcheck seems rather pointless in some cases, don't you agree?

------------------------------------------------

By the way - some people have suggested that the very reverend Fred Phelps is actually Satan's younger brother...... and I'll admit that the family resemblance is striking. Still, given that that would mean that unnatural sex between a daemon and rednecked troll could actually yield viable offspring (most of the very reverend Fred Phelps' flock are his 'children' and other blood-kin), I really must smack that rumour firmly down.
In point of fact, there is no Satan, and there are no actual trolls.
There is only Fred Phelps. And that is enough.

IT'S NOT A CAREER, IT'S A LIFE-STYLE

People who inhabit sales and marketing departments are almost by definition defective. This is NOT a generalization, there are NO exceptions.
And no, I have absolutely no intention of arguing with you about it.
If you think I'm wrong, you are obviously in denial, and I shall worry about your sanity.
In addition to your several career-related personality flaws.

Instead, I wish to dwell on the perfection of people who are naturally drawn towards such stimulating fields as accounting or engineering, and how much we have to suffer because of all you detail-disoriented people. Your neediness around tax-time doesn't make up for it. We are in agony.
If you lot actually paid attention, you would know this.


We are the ones who consider the consequences. We see the flaws in your arguments. We can predict the ill-effects of your brash optimism and the stupid ideas that you moot at meetings.


And, speaking of meetings, why do you people always call so many of them? Nothing worthwhile gets said .... often at very great length. By sales and marketing types.
Listening to optimistic tweetering is NOT productive. Data and information are best exchanged one-on-one, or via well-written prose.
Positive noise from some anally non-retentive junior-executive can not equal a quietly productive hour of crunching numbers or figuring out what small moveable parts might be swallowed by your ADD children.

And for crapsakes, get off the damned speakerphone!

=================================================

AFTERWORD

No doubt you have realized by now that this blogger is not in sales and marketing.

I am either in accounting or engineering, my significant other is ALSO in accounting or engineering, and many of our bloodkin are in those fields too. Not only that, but so are several of our friends. Those that aren't, should be. They will be ever so much happier dealing with our own kind.

If you, my dear readers, are unhappy at your jobs, it is probably because of the people in sales and marketing. If you are in sales and marketing yourselves, however, you are incapable of being unhappy - you have no head for details.

Feel free to demonstrate your defects in a comment on this post.

KIND THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ULTRA LEFT

Stalin killed tens of millions. His successors were no better.
Mao Tse-Tung was responsible for more deaths than anyone else in history, and subsequent powerholders in the PRC have not been that much more humane.
Fidel Castro and Ernesto Guevara were responsible for the murder of tens of thousands.
Josif Broz Tito was an vicious thug. Ceauçescu was a psychopath. Erich Honecker passionately enjoyed killing animals, and ordered his border guards to shoot people trying to escape to the west.

All revolutionary regimes have imprisoned hundreds of thousands of their own citizens for political purposes, usually in utterly brutal conditions.

European Communists unwaveringly supported violent terror in the third world, most significantly in Cambodia. Though they have since then rebranded themselves as "socialists", they still applaud the excesses of Stalin, Mao, and PolPot.

[It is instructive, for instance, to research the antecedents of the Dutch 'Socialistische Partij' (SP) - important leaders of this party were for years affiliated with the Maoist fringe, and to this day continue lauding murderous revolutionary movements. The key search-term is "Kommunistiese Eenheid Nederland - Marxisten Leninisten" (Ken-ML). The Chinese government provided covert logistical and financial support to the pro-Peking propagandists in the Netherlands and other European countries throughout the sixties and seventies, as has been revealed by news articles and government reports over the past decade and a half. Yet these mercenary traitors to their own people are still allowed a political role in Western Europe; many serve in the parliaments and government departments - the official national news organizations are almost uniformly sodden with their kind. In whatever function one now finds them, they unabashedly provide aid and support to terrorist movements in Asia, Africa, and Latin America.]


Here in the US the far left slavishly ape the Europeans in their continued support for the Venezuelan brute, the ambulatory corpse in Cuba, the petulant sexagenarian in North Korea, and the madman Mugabe.
As well as the murderers and cutthroats of Hezbollah and Hamas.


Given the monumental human suffering that the far left have been responsible for since 1917, in a perfect world every one of those people would be lined up and shot.


------------------------------------------------

NOTE: This little rant is actually in praise of the internet in general, and social-networking sites in particular. It may not look like it, but it is.

THE REAL DEAL

Recently I found out that one of my English readers, who lives in Germany, relies on the Dutch for his black tea. What he drinks is Pickwick Thee ('Pickwick tea') from Douwe Egberts.
Douwe Egberts, a Dutch merchant house founded in 1752, was acquired by Sarah Lee in 1989.
Sarah Lee also holds a 30% stake in Delta Galil, Israel’s largest textiles manufacturer - among other things they make products for Playtex and Victoria’s Secret.

Which means that if you sip your cup of Pickwick tea while wearing nothing but a bra and panties, you are supporting the Great International Zionist Conspiracy. Yay!

I recommend that we all do that. It's for a noble cause.


One of the other teas he drinks is 頂級湞紅. It is Chinese.
Deng kap tsan hong ('ding ji zhen hung') = Top-notch Chan river red, a black tea from Canton.
Which he says is green in the cup.

Did I mention that he is English?

None of the tea he drinks is.

Or so it seems.

Somewhat related thereto, I should probably explain how I came to live so close to Chinatown when I moved back to the States from Holland many years ago.
It's all about the food.
Dutch food.
Which, as everyone knows, is available all over Chinatown.

Perhaps it would be better to say that products with Dutch terms on the labels are available in Chinatown. Products with which I was extremely familiar while I still lived in the Netherlands.
Sambal. Kroepoek. Trassi. Ketjap manis. Petis. Blatjan. Ebi. Santan (in cans). Oester saus.

[Chili paste. Shrimp chips. Fish paste. Sweet soy sauce. Fish sauce. Fish ferment. Dry shrimp. Tins of coconut milk. Oyster sauce.]

Yep, you really can't get more Dutch than that. Unless its djintan, ketoembar, koenjit, kemirie, lengkoewas, serai, tjabai.

[Cumin seed, coriander seed, turmeric, candlenuts, red dwarf ginger, lemon grass, chilipepper (capsicum spp.).]

Typically Netherlandish chow: Soto oedang, nasi oedoek, ajam taliwang, and sambal goreng boentjies. Plus fresh atjar and blanched veggies with a spicy dip. And loempia.
The ingredients are just not available at your corner grocery.

[Large prawns in a soup with tamarind (asem) and various greens plus rice-stick noodles, rice cooked in coconut milk (santen) with spices and lemon grass (serai), Lombok-style chicken with a spicy sauce made from shrimp paste chili garlic palm sugar and kentjoer root, and stir-fried string beans with chilipaste and shrimp sauce. Atjar means pickle, loempia are crispy eggrolls.]

It was culinary anomie. I just needed to eat.

Even today, one of my favourite meals still is a big scoop of rice with a fried egg, some cooked mystery meat or steamed fish, and a hefty dollop of chilipaste. Add blanched greens and something crispy on the side, and you have got yourself a feast.


And after eating well, it is a pleasure to settle back and light up a pipe ... filled with English tobacco. Something nice and zesty, like SQUADRON LEADER from Samuel Gawith (Kendal, Cumbria, England). That being a medium Oriental mixture composed of fine Turkish leaf, augmented by Cyprian Latakia and Virginia (from Malawi and Mozambique, mostly).

This is the authentic life! It's just grand.


And perhaps it's also time for tea .......


===================================================

NOTE:

The Dutch words above are actually Indonesian. Which you probably already realized.
In modern Indonesian some are no longer spelled that way.
Sambal. Krupuk. Trasi. Kecap manis. Petis. Belacan. Ebi. Santan.
蠔油 (ho yau)
Jintan, ketumbar, kunyit, kemiri, lengkuas, serai, cabai.
Soto udang, nasi uduk, ayam taliwang, and sambal goreng buncis. Acar. Lumpia.

ENNERDALE FLAKE

Long ago there used to be colognes and hair tonics for men that had slightly odd scents. You would go into a barbershop where some ancient hair cutter worked, and there would be the row of dusty brown glass bottles with names like Johnson's Skin Restorative, Old Ole's Head Rub, or Shine Revival For Gentlemen.
Usually they ponged of leather, mint, and gun oil .... with a top dressing of gardenias or lilac.


Sometimes you still run across such products in out-of-the-way drugstores. When you do, buy them. By all means, buy them. Nothing keeps your female relations from trying to set you up with women you wouldn't be caught dead dating better than the knowledge that you have frightening potions in your medicine cabinet.
Their reputations as matchmakers do not need any further damage. Having a nephew whose personal aroma is best described as 'undertaker's assistant' will get them permanently delisted by their peers.


Such is the delightful aroma of a tobacco I recently purchased.
Boruch Hashem I am already taken, and all my female relatives know it.


ENNERDALE
Made in England by Gawith Hoggarth & Co Ltd.

Virginias, burley, and sun-cured tobaccos with flavors of almond, vanilla and various fruits.

[Gawith Hoggarth's best selling flake. ]


What on earth possessed me?!? This product almost defies description. Not that it is bad, or unsmokeable, but good lord WHY do the English like pressed flakes with such a heavy dose of Lakeland funk?
In a word, this smells exactly like blue cake.

[Note: Blue cake is the nickname of the disc of cheap deodorizing disinfectant in urinals, especially in the seedier bars. Female readers would probably not know that.
It is strong, so that it can compete with its environment.]


Ennerdale flake smokes cool and clean,with no bite; the underlying tobacco is indeed quite decent.
The perfume that Gawith Hoggarth sprayed on or steamed in, however, is ............ baffling.
No single aromatic element predominates, and apparently both rose oil and licorice qualify as "various fruits" in the nomenclature of the esteemed firm. This is a very traditional soapy type of Virginia compound, much like the darkly rancid pressed crapleaf favoured by frequenters of corner news-stands or neighborhood whorehouses. One can imagine a juvenile runaway dousing herself with this before she goes out to waggle a thigh at drunken businessmen.
It is very very English.

[It is most emphatically NOT suitable as a tobacco for any young ladies among my readers - your parents would suspect you of depravity and turpitude if they smelled this upon you. And rightly so. Please smoke a nice clean flake instead.]


Both as far as tobacco and added aroma it is in the same category as Condor. But not as strong. It is vaguely reminiscent of certain Dutch products - Sail Regular comes to mind, though there is less air-cured leaf and far more badly bathed old barmaid.
There is naught to recommend it. Gadzooks.



ABASH ME WITH A SPOON!

That said, I shall definitely finish the tin. And request that the tobacconist order more of it.
It has a certain beguiling, not to say 'addictive' quality.
Though smoking this proves me an pervert, I find Ennerdale flake exceedingly amusing.

I should be careful not to smoke this odoriferous bastard on weekends, as Savage Kitten might look at me askance.
Besides wondering at my sanity and whether I'm seeing some skank on the sly.
Under no circumstances do I dare light this up at the Occidental.

CHAMPAGNE

On new-years’ eve Savage Kitten fell asleep early. She usually does so – she’s not given to wild abandon. New years’ eve is our anniversary, and for most of the past twenty years she has been in dreamland by ten o’clock. Which means that on our anniversary I usually sneak out in time to hear Auld Lang Syne and have a couple of drinks.

By a stroke of amazing good luck I found a seat at my customary end of the bar.

Right next to D-Bob.

Dot-dot-dot


D-Bob is famous for two things: owning a dog that farts and being a conversational nightmare.

If I were to describe him as a walking disaster zone in whose presence all attempts at discussion shall collapse and shatter, go down in flames, die screaming, come a cropper, and even a Bermuda Triangle of discourse which will cause your social life and fellow-humanity to disappear, sink from sight, and be ingloriously forgotten, I could not possibly be accused of exaggeration.
He is indeed all that.
He is, furthermore, nearly unintelligible due to a casualness about enunciating properly.

Everything he says sounds like mumble mumble growl blurk.


I rather like D-Bob. Which is why I shall not tell you what the ‘D’ stands for.


He was already on his third or fourth Manhattan by the time I sat down next to him. The noise level in the bar was barely under jet-engine roar. D-Bob speaks in an unintelligible basso-profundo rumble. I am partially deaf.
A wiser man would have had second thoughts.
Mumble mumble growl blurk.


PLEASE ENGAGE BRAIN BEFORE ENTERING BAR


I had barely had my first sip before D-Bob started – "the singing is terrible".
I pretended I did not hear. It had sounded like "merging gooey hormone", which made NO sense, and for which the explanatory backstory might defy belief. In addition to mostly being mumble mumble growl blurk.
I decided that I really didn’t want to know.
So he repeated it. Several more times. Mumble mumble growl blurk.
I finally comprehended.

"The gurzazing giz ..... zzz ..... turrurrabrrrrrrrrrr!"

As a conversational gambit it was not stellar.
If he expected me to do anything about it, he was disappointed.
I will not sing. I do not go there for the music.

Several more times he made observations.
None of them were particularly worth noting, no discussion was necessary (or even possible), his comments were entirely apropos of nothing, and non-sequitorial entirely. Irrespective of my reaction (or lack thereof), he repeated himself several more times until I understood.
Mumble mumble growl blurk.

He punctuated mumble mumble growl blurk by frequently howling incomprehensible encouragement at the singers.
Each time he did so it startled other customers, who would drop their drinks or look in our direction with blanched faces.
They probably expected him to start growing fangs, and hair on his hands.
Mumble mumble growl blurk.

At quarter past eleven he began to make desperate sounds about champagne.
‘There was no champagne in evidence, the cheapskates that ran the bar would probably not provide champagne, he was pissed that there was no champagne, how dare they the bastards why wasn’t there any champagne he wanted champagne there should be champagne!!!’
Mumble mumble growl blurk.

After a long discussion, the agony of which it is impossible to describe, it became clear that he thought it was already twelve o’clock. Time for champagne.
I showed him my watch. Eleven fifteen.
Oh my who'da thunkit.
Mumble mumble growl blurk.

Less than five minutes later he was at it again - he had now convinced himself that my watch was wrong wrong wrong and I was covering for the owners.
The world was intent on cheating him out of free champagne.
Mumble mumble growl blurk.


"Why is there no champagne I want some champagne champagne is traditional these cheap bastards champagne I don’t see no champagne its time for champagne there should be champagne hey where’s the champagne it will soon be too late for champagne I gotta have champagne on new year always champagne every year champagne champagne champagne champagne champagne champagne champagne champagne champagne champagne champagne where is the champagne?"


Mumble mumble growl blurk.

He paused long enough to leave one dreading the next outburst, then reapplied himself to the complaint with greater vigour.
Forty solid minutes of mumble mumble growl blurk champagne blurk mumble champagne champagne growl champagne champagne champagne champagne champagne champagne.

Mumble mumble growl blurk.

At one point I indicated that I did not like champagne, and was therefore entirely uninterested in the issue – apparently this meant that I was a Grinch and a communist.

Mumble mumble growl blurk.

Champagne, dammit, champagne!

Mumble mumble growl blurk.

Then another terrifying yell of encouragement to a singer "yarr Heather zngngng baytchrrrrr yow!"
This made a small blonde girl nearby start weeping and hiccoughing. He had caused her to swallow her entire drink.


"Growzr champagne zurg gargle ztramperz cheapzguts champagne!"


At three minutes to twelve, the bar staff announced that champagne was served and to please go over to where the glasses were lined up to get some.
This sent D-Bob into a fury – the glasses were at the other end of the bar!
"Outrageous! The bastards! I’m seventy, I don’t have to walk! Go get me some champagne! I am NOT going over there, no how, they should bring it to me! Damn them! Why won’t you go get me some – bring TWO glasses, because you aren’t drinking it anyhow, I'll drink yours. Three! Go on, I ain't getting up, champagne, you get it."

Mumble mumble growl blurk.

Once more I elucidated my complete lack of interest in champagne (it gives me a headache).
He responded by explaining at very great length that I was the ogre who destroyed new years, it was utterly unforgiveable, I obviously did not have any friends, did I ever even have sex, hah, and why wasn’t I up there singing, how could I live with myself, the nerve of me denying an old man his free glass of champagne.
I was antisocial, lacked all the proper courtesies, and delighted in ruining everyone else’s celebration. I was the very bloodsucker of happiness.

Dammit, I was just awful. A horrible man.

Mumble mumble growl blurk.


I moved to the other side of the room and enjoyed the rest of the evening by myself.

From a distance, I could hear him going off on someone else.

It turns out that the champagne glasses were too small cheap bastards did you see how tiny those champagne glasses were idiots he had had to drink FOUR of them they should’ve had better more larger nicer bigger champagne he wished he'd had more champagne dry another glass so tiny he was incredibly disappointed sons of bitches there's still champagne over there damned if he would go and get it next year they should put him in charge of champagne.

Mumble mumble growl blurk.

Next year I hope he stays at home with his farting dog.

Mumble mumble growl blurk.

LEARNING DUTCH - JANUARY 18, 2010

My closing post for last week was a selection of cites from comments underneath a newspaper article, chosen to illustrate the colour of the Dutch language and the thought-patterns of the people who speak it.

I had not intended to post a follow-up so soon, but the comments underneath an article in today's edition of De Telegraaf (one of Holland's major dailies) presented such a juicy slice of Dutchness that I could not resist.

So, here are several more phrases in Dutch, with translation and annotation.
It is hoped that this will aid the student in learning the expressive tongue of Brederode and Vondel, and conversing with the people who speak it. Good luck!

[Previously I mentioned the poet Gerbrand Adriaanszn Brederode in some detail here:
http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2005/10/vicious-dutch-verses-gerbrand.html
Providing there an interlinear paraphrasis of one of his poems.
Joost van den Vondel is mentioned here:
http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2006/05/konstantijntje.html
I did not translate the cited poem, but gave instead a short descriptus and commentary.]



BILL CLINTON IN HAITI

The article underneath which these comments were posted is here:
http://www.telegraaf.nl/buitenland/5819887/__Bill_Clinton_in_Hati_aangekomen__.html?p=4,1

It is about former president Bill Clinton arriving in Haiti on behalf of the United Nations and president Obama, and as co-founder of a charitable fund to benefit the victims of last week's disaster. It is customary to enlist the aid of prominent people, especially ex-presidents, in worthwhile causes and to raise capital for disaster-relief - Obama drafted both former president Bush and former president Clinton, showing that United States aid to Haiti is a non-partisan issue.



DUTCH SENTENCES, DUTCH THOUGHTS

Here is what the Dutch have to say about Clinton's visit to Haiti.

"Met dit soort ramptoerisme schiet Haiti helemaal niets op. Clinton is daar enkel om de firma Clinton te promoten."
Translation: 'With this kind of disaster-tourism Haiti does not benefit at all. Clinton is there merely to promote the enterprise of Clinton.'

Commentary: There is an entrenched view that America and Americans ONLY do what is profitable, like when we treacherously fought the Germans and Japanese, deviously created the Marshall Plan to enslave Western Europe as a captive market for our second-rate goods, and then, entirely for our own mercantile benefit, prevented the Dutch from rebuilding both their economy and their international status by exploiting the wealth and natives of the Dutch East-Indies after the war.
Many Dutch have never forgiven us for any of that - deservedly so.


"En weer een bobo die in de weg loopt."
Translation: 'And again a baboon who is in the way.'

Commentary: Bobo is a slang-term for baboon ('baviaan' in standard Dutch, but 'bobbejaan' in South-African Dutch).
In South-African Dutch ('Afrikaans') it is a traditional appellation for great men from a different cultural group - Nelson Mandela, Desmond Tutu, and Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi, to name just three notable examples.
The Dutch are also very familiar with such African leaders as Moamer El Qaddafi of Libya, King Hassan of Morocco, and Egyptian president Hosni Mubarak - but, as those gentlemen are Arabs, a different sobriquet applies: geite-neuker ('goat-afficionado').
The Dutch tend towards a casualness of reference regarding famous people; it is one of their more charming characteristics.

BOBO: CORRECTION JANUARY 19, 2010:
An anonymous commenter provided a link that clarified the derivation of BOBO = 'Bourgeois Bohemian', from French. Applies to on the one hand the sportsworld bosses, on the other hand more commonly to the new ruling classes, whose ideologie and actions are often opposites - voting right and thinking left, or the other way around. Life-style whores. Probably very similar to the ultra-middleclass leftwingers in the Bay Area, CodePink and such.
SOURCE: http://lvb.net/item/3148 via Anonymous at 10:49 PM.


"William Jefferson Rockefeller Clinton is hier om geld op te halen."
Translation: 'William Jefferson Rockefeller Clinton is here to pick up money.'

Commentary: Common among many natives of the Netherlands is a belief that American notables are all somehow related, either by blood or by secret-society affiliation - organizations such as the Freemasons, the Bilderburgers, and the Club of Rome, as well as Skull and Bones, The International Order Of The Friendly Sons Of The Raccoon, and The Rockefeller Foundation, are all thought to be the nearest thing that Americans have to either organizational structure or common ideological background.


"Gauw een stichting in het leven roepen om ook maar zijn zakken te vullen dan houd rockefeller foundation in de schaduw want we weten allemaal dat de totale markt van de wereld van Rockefeller and zijn inmens grote family is ook Bill Clinton, helaas. "
Translation: 'Quickly creating a foundation to also fill his pockets (which) will keep the rockefeller foundation in the shadows we all know that the total market of the world belongs to Rockefeller and his immensely large family also Bill Clinton, alas.'

Commentary: The Dutch are a realistic bunch, due largely to their history of oppression in South-East Asia (Batavia was known as 'the graveyard of the East', because of the large number of Dutch who died there over the centuries) and world-wide apathy about their achievements. This has made them fearful of other peoples, and skeptical of the contributions of high-profile non-Dutch; most particularly the English-speaking world.
By the way, the run-on sentence cited above is a good example of stream of consciousness, quite common conversationally among them (along with its frequent companion, Tourette's Syndrome).


"Ik neem aan dat Uncle Bill zijn reis- en verblijfkosten riant vergoed krijgt.....uit onze bijdrage aan de hulpverlening aldaar!"
Translation: 'I assume that Uncle Bill gets his travel and stay generously recompensed...... from our contributions to the disaster relief there!'

Commentary: Generosity from the sober Dutch towards Haiti disaster relief, as of this writing, already exceeds SIX MILLION Euros (the government has pledged to match the amount).
This munificence obliges them to be overmuch concerned with expenditure.


"Gelukkig Bill is er nu hoeven ze zich daar nergens meer druk over te maken."
Translation: 'Luckily Bill is there now they don't have to worry about anything anymore.'

Commentary: Both this sentence and the following example are splendid examples of the Dutch talent for SARCASM, than which there is no better venue for eloquence.


"Nou, het is zover. De hemel is geopend. De almachtige Clinton is daar. Haiti is gered."
Translation: 'Well, it's finally happened. Heaven has opened up. The almighty Clinton has arrived. Haiti is saved.'

Commentary: This writer has a brevity of expression. That is almost Hemmingway-esque in its complexity. Using short single-concept sentences. Of which there are four.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

NOTES

Enkel = Only. Singular. One of.

In de weg = In the way. Note that 'weg' commonly also means road, as it used to in English.

Geld op te halen = To pick up money. To collect protection or extortion payments.
Geld: money, value. Op: up. Te: to, too. Halen: to haul, to get, to bring, to carry.

In het leven roepen = Calling something into life. To cause something to be, to create a thing.

Onze bijdrage aan de hulpverlening aldaar = Our contribution to providing aid and assistance in that place.
Onze: our. Bijdrage: literally, 'by-carry', 'carry by'. To add, to contribute. Aan: On, to. De: the. Hulpverlening: Help-lending - a similar English expression is 'to lend a hand'. Aldaar: emphatic mode of 'there'.


Note that the definite article 'de' is cognate with English 'the'. The other definite article in Dutch is 'het', cognatic with 'it'. All nouns are either 'de' nouns or 'het' nouns - the simplest rule of thumb about the use of the Dutch definite article is that 'de' is never singular-diminutive, 'het' is never plural. For example: het huis (the house), het huisje (the little house), de huizen (the houses), de huisjes (the little houses).

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AFTERTHOUGHT

I sincerely hope that you enjoyed reading these pieces about the Dutch language as much as I enjoyed writing them. And I wish that, in some small way, this contributes toward a greater understanding of the Netherlands and its fascinating culture.
There will be many more such Dutch linguistics posts - Dutch internet texts are a bottomless pit of inspiration.
Please let me know what you think of both this and the previous piece, and how I can improve the series.
Your comments will be appreciated.

LEARNING DUTCH - JANUARY 15, 2010

Frequent readers will have noted that this blogger occasionally has it up to here with his fellow Dutch speakers. Often this is due to having read the comments underneath articles in Dutch newspapers. Seldom a good idea.

Dutch is a marvelous language, richly evocative, eloquent, and expressive.

It is also quite likely the language spoken in hell, as it is venomously mean-spirited, vitriolic, and vile. If the devil speaks a human tongue, it is undoubtedly Dutch.
Satan probably gets along very well with both Vondel and Brederode, as well as a host of lesser poets. Much of their audience have ended up in his domain over the centuries. Deservedly so.


EVIL TONGUE

Still, I have a lot of affection for the noble Dutch language, and really wish that my readers would learn it.

To that end, I intend to regularly post sample sentences lifted from my daily internet-peruse, with translations and annotations. As time progresses, you will undoubtedly become familiar with Dutch and its speakers, even to the point where you can understand how they think.


BLESSED SPEECH

Today's samples come from the comments underneath an article about a seven year old New Jersey boy whose name occurs on the terrorist watch-list.
[This article: http://www.telegraaf.nl/buitenland/5799147/__Achtjarige_bestempeld_als_terrorist__.html?p=13,2 ]


"En dan ben je trots dat je een amerikaan bent. Wat een raar land."
Translation: And then you are proud that you are an American. What an odd country.

NOTE: Being proud of one's country is something of which Europeans are incapable.


"Wat zijn ze toch weer hysterisch bezig, die domme Amerikanen."
Translation: How hysterically they are at it again, those stupid Americans.

NOTE: Hysterically, in this context does not mean funny, but ridiculous and panicked. The implication of the sentence is that acting like headless chickens is a natural state for us Americans.
Europeans, especially the Dutch, are phlegmatic.


"Dit geeft aan hoe dom, naief en doorgeslagen die Amerikanen zijn."
Translation: This indicates how stupid, ignorant, and exaggeratedly ridiculous those Americans are.

NOTE: From this it is obvious in what regard the writer of the comment holds Americans. The belief that Americans are impossibly stupid and ignorant is fairly common in Europe - many US veterans no doubt remember the sneers of superiority on the faces of the freshly liberated peasants lining the roads from Normandy through France, Belgium, and the Netherlands, into Germany. Europeans today are as aware that they are culturally superior to Americans as once they were certain that Europeans were racially superior to Africans, Asians, and other non-whites.
In the modern age, such racialism is no longer acceptable (even if still very much alive) in Europe, but looking down on Yankees is always fashionable and au courant. Even hip.


"Het land is zo fout als mogelijk, mede door al die gristen radicalen."
Translation: The country is as wrong as possible, in part due to all those Christian radicals.

NOTE: Apparently there are no Christians in the Netherlands anymore. Hence the natural misapprehension that America must be nothing but Christians, nutball fundamentalists at that. All the fine churches in Dutch cities and villages, whose elegant spires frequently mark distant settlements on the horizon, are now merely decorative souvenirs of a forgotten past. Today's sober Dutchman has little truck with faith.


"Die Amerikanen sporen echt niet...."
Translation: Those Americans don't track at all...

NOTE: To track is a Dutch expression indicating that regular norms are in effect - the person described as not tracking is thinking incorrectly, over-reacting, and possibly demented.
It is a commonly held belief in parts of the world that Americans are afflicted with an inability to act like rational people. Americans, in Dutch, do not track.


"Rare jongens die Yanks!"
Translation: Strange fellows those Yanks!

NOTE: Think nothing of it - to the Dutch, all foreigners are strange.


"En als je kinderen zo nodig Donald Duck en Mickey Mouse willen, de enige amerikaanse cultuur, kijk dan TV of ga naar Eurodisney."
Translation: And if your kids absolutely have to have Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse, that being all there is to American culture, just watch teevee or go to Eurodisney.

NOTE: Most Europeans have never read any American literature, as Faulkner, Hemmingway, Flannery O'Connor, Steinbeck, Emily Dickinson, Edith Wharton, and all those others were irrelevant dead white men not worth translating into any civilized languages. Mark Twain, as is well-known, was an escapee from an insane-asylum outside of Dortmund, whereas Gertrude Stein was a unwashed refugee graciously accepted by the French, like Edgar Allan Poe before her.
In point of fact, there is no American literature - Americans have no original thoughts whatsoever.


"Die idioten uit de verenigde staten, americanen noemen is een belediging voor de rest van de bewoners van het continent America. Het land zonder naam, jajajajaja, wat een trieste boel. America is een continent en geen land, americanen zijn ook alle Columbianen, en Chilenen en Brazilianen, Surinamers etc etc. "
Translation: Those idiots from the United States, calling them Americans is an insult to the other inhabitants of the American continent. The country without a name, suuuuuuure, what a pathetic affair. America is a continent, not a country; Americans are also all Columbians, and Chileans, and Brazilians, Surinamers, etc. etc.

NOTE: Technically the writer of these brilliant words IS correct - all inhabitants of the Americas are Americans, just like all inhabitants of Europe are foreigners. And it is very impressive that he can actually name several of the countries on this side of the Atlantic. That's the benefit of a continental education. Most of my fellow Americans cannot even name Canada or Cuba, let alone that long list of places in South-America........
See, we aren't into soccer very much, and in consequence have scant reason to figure out where the people we intend to hate today are from. Nor do we have as much experience colonizing, exploiting, and exterminating as the Europeans.
So our ignorance of the world is quite understandable. Regrettable, but understandable.



Tune in next week for more illustrative examples. This will be a regular series on this blog.
Everybody should learn Dutch.

PAT ROBERTSON AND RUSH LIMBAUGH - SOULLESS PIT-VIPERS

Keith Olberman said it best:

" ... Even the worst of us in this political mosh-pit of the early twenty-first century can stop, on occasion, in grief and human sympathy and mourning, or just in self-preservation - not Rush Limbaugh and not Pat Robertson - we'll explore this at length later - but mister Robertson, it is laughable now to call him 'reverend', explained today that this earthquake was the result of a quote "deal with the devil" that he claims the nation made in the nineteenth century to gain its freedom from France - "true story", Robertson says.

Sir, because of your tone-deafness and your delight in human misery, and your dripping self-satisfied holier than thou senile crap, I am now likelier to believe that you are the devil.

Limbaugh, meantime, did not know when to just shut up. Today he blamed communism for the poverty of Haiti, blamed president Obama for holding a news conference the day after this cataclysm, when he did not hold one after the failed half-assed terror attempt at Detroit, and said mister Obama would quote use Haiti to quote "burnish their, shall we say, credibility with the black community in the both light-skinned and dark skinned black community in this country".

Mister Robertson, mister Limbaugh - your lives are not worth those of the lowest meanest poorest of those victims still lying under that rubble in Haiti tonight; you serve no good, you serve no god; you inspire only stupidity and hatred, and I would wish you to hell. But knowing how empty your souls must be for you to be able to say such things, in a time of such pain, I suspect the vacant purposeless lives you both live now, are hell enough already."


Watch it one YOUTUBE:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zPoWOw8Jm5w&feature=player_embedded
Or
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-PEaWUduCM&feature=related
Or
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OKwPfqfvncE&feature=related



SPOT ON!

Go ahead, play it again. It's worth every eloquent second.

I stand in awe of mister Oberman's ability to express so well what so many of us have thought for so long.
Pat Robertson and Rush Limbaugh are both among the worst examples of homo sapiens in our age; their hateful spew, and the cretinous fans who hang upon their every venom-dripping word, drag down the human average and ruin the curve.
That they are still among us indicates more strongly than anything else possibly ever could that even the devil has standards.

====================================================

Found the youtube clip courtesy of Dovbear: http://dovbear.blogspot.com/ , this post: http://dovbear.blogspot.com/2010/01/mouth-just-hangs-open.html .

Some of the comments underneath that post are priceless.
Some are ... not. It's a yeshiva out there.

GOOD NEWS FOR SMOKERS, BAD NEWS FOR THE REST OF YOU!

As it turns out, I have been doing something right all this time.
I have been drinking tea. Specifically, green tea.
Which may have cancer-fighting characteristics, according to researchers.


BBC article: GREEN TEA MAY BLOCK LUNG CANCER
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/8453628.stm

QUOTE: "Drinking green tea may offer some protection against lung cancer, say experts who studied the disease at a medical university in Taiwan."
[CUT]
"In the study, smokers and non-smokers who drank at least a cup a day cut their lung cancer risk significantly, a US cancer research conference heard."
--- --- ---

For many years now I have drunk a quick cup of green or semi-fermented tea ere leaving the house in the morning, for that last boost of caffeine before facing the world.
Throughout the day I have more tea - several cups.

Turns out this is also good for my prostate.


BBC article: GREEN TEA SLOWS PROSTATE CANCER
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/8108831.stm

QUOTE: "A chemical found in green tea appears to slow the progression of prostate cancer, a study has suggested.
Green tea has been linked to a positive effect on a wide range of conditions, including heart disease, cancer and Alzheimer's disease."
--- --- ---

The prostate is a fun little gland that lives near the reproductive organs of the mammalian male, too close to the arse for comfort. The fortunate female mammal does not have one - she is undoubtedly blessed.
That does not necessarily mean that women can or should smoke more, just that they aren't likely to end up with enlarged or cancerous prostates.

[This post is NOT about my prostate. Keep those probing questions to yourself.]


Anyhow, I have been swilling green tea since early adolescence. Since before I started smoking, or consuming alcohol, in fact.
I have drunk it all my adult life.
Thanks to tea, I am the very model of clean virtuous living.
Lots of tea.


I am zipped to the very eye-brows as we speak.
Weeeeee! I feel good!


I've downed so much green tea that I'll probably live to a hundred!


This afternoon, I shall smoke an extra pipe-load of fine strong tobacco to celebrate my new-found robust good health. So if you pass a pudgy grey-faced middle-aged geezer on Market Street energetically hacking his lungs out, that will likely be me.
I'll be just about vibrant with life!
My prostrate is fine too.
Probably couldn't be better.
Don't forget to say 'hi'.
Neener neener neener, bitches, neener neener neener.

THE DUTCH HAVE AN OPINION!

Specifically, they have an opinion over the fact that Obama's popularity is down to a 46% approval rating.

As can be seen by their comments underneath this article:
http://www.telegraaf.nl/buitenland/5769821/__Populariteit_Obama_op_dieptepunt__.html?p=19,2
[De Telegraaf, January 12, 2010: 'Populariteit Obama op dieptepunt']


One hundred and thirty eight comments.
Their opinions are all across the board.


DUTCH OPINION

This is not surprising - the Dutch ALWAYS have opinions, even if they don't know what they're talking about.
Especially if they don't know what they're talking about.
And it would've taken a miracle to keep them from flocking to an article so temptingly entitled "Populariteit Obama op dieptepunt" ('popularity of Obama at lowest ebb'). Such an article inevitably taunts their senses - it's about America and Americans, and it's political. No, they can not claim any great knowledge about either of those subjects - but evenso they have an opinion!
Many opinions!
About America and Americans, and about politics!

[Any article that mentions America will receive a multitude of comments - America is the conversational glue that keeps the Dutch together. Or so it seems at times. They all know so much about America and Americans, honest! It's as if they've all been here and are acquainted with hundreds of us (though deliberately somewhat distantly, and always at arms length).
This is due to the fact that all of them have watched Dallas, Bay Watch, Friends, Bonanza, and Kojak. Many have also seen the movie Borat.]


Sit up and listen, dammit! Their opinions are important!


Denkt men nu echt dat een donker iemand ooit eerlijk de verkiezingen zou kunnen winnen in dat rechtse amerika?
[Does anyone really think that a dark person could honestly win the elections in that rightwing America?]

Wat heeft de man gedaan behalve het land financieel nog verder naar de klote geholpen en de internationale geloofwaardigheid van Amerika na een na-oorlogs dieptepunt gebracht...
[What has that man done other than helping the country even further financially towards the testicles (idiomatic expression: down the tubes) and taking the believability of America to a post-war low...]

Wat had je anders verwacht van een volk die hun herseninhoud laat plaatsmaken voor hamburgers en dietcoke?
[What else do you expect from a population that allows their brain content to be replaced by hamburgers and diet-coke?]

De arrogante Amerikaanse burgers ...
[The arrogant American citizens ...]

De meeste Amerikaanse presidenten willen heersen over de hele wereld]
[Most American presidents want to rule the world.]

Misschien is het een goed idee dat de Amerikanen eens leren dat er meer is in de wereld dan alleen Amerika????
[Maybe its a good idea that the Americans finally learn that there is more in the world than just America?]

Tja hij moet nog veel puin ruimen...Zo snel gaat dat niet. Maar dat snappen de amerikanen toch niet.
[Well, he's still gotta clean up a lot of mess.... that doesn't happen overnight. But those Americans don't understand that anyhow.]

Die Amerikanen....
[Those Americans....]

Obama is een nog slechtere president als Bush.
[Obama is an even worse president than Bush.]

Amerikanen zijn net als Nederlanders. Nooit tevreden met hun regering. Alhoewel het Nederlandse volk wel erg veel zeiken.
[Americans are just like the Dutch. Never satisfied with their government. Although the Dutch populace does bellyache a frightful lot.]

........................

Sometimes I wish that the Dutch didn't have opinions. That they could actually be happy with themselves without venting all of their half-formed thoughts.
But perhaps that is impossible - in the Netherlands, having an opinion is a sign that one is alive, and a way of establishing that one is an individual who is not to be trifled with. One's opinion, no matter how half-baked, is one's blazoon to the world.
If an Englishman's home is his castle, a Dutchman's opinion is his machine gun nest.
Usually conversation with other Dutch speakers can best be understood as trench-warfare.

But that is just an opinion.
And as an American, I am not supposed to have such a thing.

EAT IT!

This past Saturday, the daughter of a friend let it be known that she will no longer eat fish (which she now refers to as "sea-kitten"). This in the context of her ideology, which I respect. She absolutely refuses to touch sea kittens.
Smoked varietal sea kitten with cream cheese on a toasted bagel is no longer part of her diet, gently poached sea kitten with cilantro and ginger is not in the program, and fried cumin-dusted sea kitten with lemon and sweet chilies shall never pass her lips. It is sad.
Sea kitten is the PETA-approved circumlocution for fish, to make you think warmly and fuzzily about the creatures - which will apparently make you not want to eat them.

[That leaves more sea kitten for the rest of us. Huzzah.]


Later that same day, a friend who spent several years in a South-American jail (for gun-running) dryly remarked that in the country where he was imprisoned the cats obviously did not get the high-quality canned kitty nibbles so common in the United States - this after I had stated that the problem with cats, from a culinary point of view, was that they ended up tasting like what they themselves had eaten.


Motzei Shabbes, upon reading a food-related post, Jonathan Becker left this comment: "fruitbat? that's disgusting."

I had unwisely admitted that I had eaten zebra, snake, alligator, fruitbat, and wildebeest.
Well, fruitbat wasn't disgusting at the time. It actually tasted darn good. After you've whacked a few out of a tree with a long pole, you must kill them, gut them, and pack them in mud, then set them to roast in a fire. When you crack the baked mud and peel off the shards, the fur comes along with it, leaving a nice steaming juicy serving for one. They're good with baked ubi.
Fruitbats are not disgusting - contextually, they are in fact delicious.

The taste of cat food is disgusting. Far far FAR worse than fruitbat. Trust me on this one.



BON GUSTO

I blame my omnivorocity on my unkosher upbringing.
I doubt that my mother would've known kosher if it came up and bit her on the leg.
No kosher whatever, not in our household.

Instead, we had my mother's meshune ideas about food to cope with.
The result was even more restrictive than kashrus.

To whit:
"Herring is full of worms" - she had read about the herring nematode, and distrusted the local fish-merchants. My father, my brother, and I smuggled the delicious raw herring into the house and ate it without her knowing.
"Carrots and celery should only be eaten raw" - can I just say that I am still not fond of carrots?
"There is no nutritional value in cabbage" - this was her explanation of the ignorance of some of the local people; their brains had starved.
"Lobster gives you gout" - and so, of course, it was verboten; gout was something English which no one else deserved.
"Coffee stunts your growth" - this from a woman who was considerably shorter than either of her sons.
"Spinach is poison" - I cannot remember what the basis of her theory was.
"Sausages are no better than dog-food" - I don't think she liked Europeans; what is more European than sausage?
"That old Jew is going to kill you" - this was said every time Mr. Kater came by with a giant bag of fresh wild mushrooms that he had picked in the forest. My father and I would fress ourselves silly on mushrooms - seethed in butter, or sliced in omelets, drenched in broth or added to stew. They were very good. Her gloomy prediction has not yet come true.

[Her distrust of Mr. Kater was probably based on contract bridge. About which I know nothing.]


The variety of foods that she would allow into the house was very limited. Even with the three men of the household conspiring against her dictats, and trips to Brussels and Paris expressly for the food, there was much good eating to which I had not been exposed while she was alive.

I have been catching up ever since.



OTHER "SEA-KITTENS" I'VE EATEN

Alligator, antelope, bee larva, bison, cane rat, cape buffalo, cat, cicada, cricket, dog, dragon fly (fried with chilies), dwarf buffalo, fermented fish paste, fertilized duck eggs, fruitbat, goat, horse meat, lamb brains, pelanduk, sago grub, sea cucumber, shark, snake (several different kinds), springbok, tree possum, water buffalo, wild boar, wildebeest, zebra.


Much of it was quite good. No, not the cane rat, nor the cat. Cat tastes like whatever it has fed upon. The sago grubs were delicious. Sea cucumber absorbs flavour very well, and should be richly sauced for that reason. Tree possum is impossibly greasy.

The only thing in the list above which truly is disgusting is the fertilized duck egg. It's called 'balut' in the Philippines, where it is much loved.
Though that may be a slight overstatement - it's more available at three o'clock in the morning after you've been drinking all night than at any other time, and I cannot remember seeing the damned things in day light, or while sober. You have to be plotzed to eat them.
That is what makes them good.

[The Philippines is also where I ate dog for the first time - up in the cordillera the locals make cocktail snacks out of them. Little fried doggy bits and chops, great with San Miguel Beer!
Oh, and by the way - do NOT insult your hosts by refusing to eat the food that they so thoughtfully provide.]


"Fruitbat? That's disgusting."


Most of the 'alternative' protein sources mentioned above make good curry. None of them are "sea kitten". But sea kitten also makes good curry. Fermented sea kitten paste in moderation could be added to all of them.
Just remember to avoid land-based sea-kitten equivalents ("farm kitten" or "forest kitten") with scarred lungs or signs of disease, and to cut their throats in one clean stroke with a very sharp unnicked blade, severing the carotid arteries and jugular veins.

WINE. FOOD. AND A PLAGUE OF KANGAROOS.

Courtesy of an anonymous commenter underneath the post about Sea Shepherd nutballs steering their pimped-out super hero boat too close to pissed-off Japanese whalers and subsequently getting hoist by their own petard, I must share a recipe.

[The comment is in this comment string:
https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17704096&postID=4823058973210308327&isPopup=true
Underneath this post:
http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2010/01/sea-shepherd-terrorists-attack-japanese.html
It is comment no. 72, occurring just before Kishan opined that Australians are degenerates who have sex with kangaroos (that being comment no. 73).]


What prompted the recipe was Vicious Kitty writing:
"I too fervently wish to sink my teeth into a nice whale steak. Or perhaps a slaughtered Australian. Even though they require way too much HP Sauce."
---

Whereupon an anonymous reader said:
"Whale. Tastes like chicken. And almost as good as spotted owl."
---

Which spurred on this contribution from yet another anonymous:

And almost as good as spotted owl.

Potted Spotted Owl.
It is delishus!

Skin, paunch and wash the owl.
Cut it into pieces, dredge with flour and fry in butter.
Put the pieces of fried owl, an onion stuck with six cloves, a lemon peeled and cut in half, and generous pinches salt, pepper and cayenne into a pot. Cover completely with good brown gravy.
Cover the pot well, put it up to the rim into a saucepan of boiling water.
Stew until the owl is quite tender - probably about four hours.
When nearly done, pour in a generous dash of port wine.

Serve with red currant jelly - NOT that ghastly red muck, what's it called, you know, the frightfull sour crap Americans normally serve with roast turkey. That noxious stuff made from some wild Indian bog berry. Inedible!

Good owl deserves red currant jelly!

Seasonable from September to the end of February.

Bon appetitt!

[End quote]



CULINARY CURIOSITY

I've eaten zebra, snake, alligator, fruitbat, and wildebeest.
I have never had spotted owl. Or whale meat.
Wherefore I bow to the superior knowledge of my readers.
And express the wish that they ask me over for dinner one of these days.
Looking at my calendar, I note that I am free for most of January.
And February.
And March, except for the last two days. Free again from the third week of April through the rest of Spring.
All Summer.
And most of Fall.
I'll bring the wine. What goes well with whale?

PIPE SMOKING FOR YOUNG LADIES

A few weeks ago when I wandered into the tobacconists, a young lady was purchasing a pipe for herself, and some cavendish. It was her first foray into the ultra-masculine, butch, and ever so freakin' macho you could scream world of pipes.
Which, when you really think about it, is not butch at all. Or macho.

The ability to appreciate a fine briar, or the smoke arising from burning vegetation, is universal. How could any form of leaf-destruction be limited in its appeal?
The fairer sex are as aesthetically gifted as men, so it is baffling that more women do not smoke pipes.
There is something incredibly ladylike about a woman with a piece of polished wood in her mouth.

Years ago I worked with someone who had a very nice pipe collection. She possessed several fine Dunhills and Charatans, and a Sasieni apple-shape natural sandblast that was, in a word, to kill for. It was probably the very best sandblast I have ever seen. Apparently it smoked very nicely too.
The fragrances of Latakia and Djubec wafted around her wherever she went, as if there was always incense in her presence.


BUT PIPE TOBACCO SMELLS SO MANLY!

Actually, it doesn't. Good tobaccos have no particular gender. Some of the most popular mixtures actually reek like Hello-Kitty Candy or a French massage-parlour, so the word 'manly' is not quite the operative concept for smokers of those products.
Perhaps the words 'froo-froo' or 'utterly degenerate' are more applicable.

A real lady does not smoke perfumed dreck.


THE GIRL PIPE-SMOKER

The idea of a petite demoiselle with a taste for fine English mixtures (Latakia and Turkish on a base of flue-cured tobacco) or Virginia flakes is incredibly charming. Could anything at all evoke better taste, and a sound upbringing, than good sense and a cultured palate? And pipe-smoking is such a thoughtful habit, so far from the affected sleaziness of cigarettes!

The only cautionary note for the girl pipesmoker would be that she should probably not fume around her parents, and must let some time pass before rejoining the company of her family after indulging, as otherwise she might receive considerable comment from folks who feel entitled to carp.

This is especially true if she is a teenage Cantonese-American.
Chinese parents, generally speaking, disapprove of their daughters lighting up.
Secrecy and plausible deniability must, at all times, be maintained.

For any young ladies needing pointers on pipes and tobacco, please note the clickable labels 'BLEND REVIEW', and 'Pipes and tobacco', which are appended under this post.

There is worthwhile advice on pipe-smoking HERE.
[http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/08/pipe-smoking-advice.html]
And a brief discursus on Drucquer & Sons blends HERE, along with a basic description of types of tobacco. A good backgrounder on blends, even if Drucquers is long gone.
[http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2006/10/drucquer-sons-ltd-pipe-tobacco-blends.html]
Also, in the side-bar, you will notice links to to several tobacco sites as well as posts about the holy grail of pipe blends (Balkan Sobranie).
Please explore these at your leisure.

If you have any questions, feel free to pose them in the comments field.
[Or e-mail me at: Deliciouspinkblog - AT - yahoo - DOT - com.]

--- --- --- --- ---

Now, apropos of nothing in particular, mention of a recently acquired tobacco.


BLEND REVIEW: ST JAMES FLAKE
A product of the House of Samuel Gawith & Co. Ltd
Kendal, Cumbria, England.
Manufacturers of Fine Tobaccos since 1792.


The tin aroma, upon first cracking the seal, is richly reminiscent of dark fruits - fig, plum, raisin, with a slight note of sweet grassy herbs. There is no casing or dressing that I am aware of, the fragrance is the natural result of aging and pressing.

This dark-hued flake, like all Samuel Gawith products, is packed with far more moisture than allows for immediate enjoyment, so it requires some serious drying time.
The thin-cut irregular slices rub out and load up easily. Once lit, the tobacco burns steadily down to a medium grey ash without fuss, yielding a very pleasant medium-bodied smoke that packs a fair wallop of nicotine.

St. James Flake is appealingly complex. The Perique is noticeable but by no means overwhelming - it is tangy and loveable in a ladylike kind of way, rather than having the brash sock you in the jaw Perique overload of some other products.
The nearest comparison would probably be to the old Escudo, but this is a nicer tobacco by far.
I do not frequently smoke flakes, but this is a product that I will stock up on.

Let me know how it works for you.

SEA SHEPHERD TERRORISTS ATTACK JAPANESE VESSEL

Five criminals from New Zealand and one Dutchman have been rescued after their attack on a Japanese boat went disastrously wrong.

After throwing chemicals on the Japanese ship, and trying to entangle its rudder with rope, the extremists on the Ady Gil circled around to attack from the front, attempting to ram the Nisshin Maru.

[Such tactics are explained in this "helpful" video produced by the anti-whaling side:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d_6v5bcVSS4
in which it is made clear that the eco-thugs will not hesitate to break international laws and engage in piracy.]


Their attempt failed, and their own boat was severely damaged.
Unfortunately their henchmen pulled them from the waters.


From the BBC:
"The crew of the Ady Gil, five from New Zealander and one from the Netherlands, were picked up unharmed by nearby Sea Shepherd vessel Bob Barker near Commonwealth Bay.
"The Ady Gil is believed to be sinking and chances of salvage are very grim," the Sea Shepherd statement said.
A video apparently shot from on board the Japanese vessel showed the two ships smashing into each other at speed.
The Ady Gil was swamped by waves, its nose was torn off and damage could be seen to its side."

SOURCE:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/8442808.stm


The extremists detail their version of events here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Brw6JN0lQXY



PERFECT FOR PIRACY

The Ady Gil is a high-speed and very maneuverable craft, whereas the Nisshin Maru needs a much larger turning radius and greater breaking distance. From which it is logically obvious not only that the New Zealand thugs (and the Dutchman) deliberately took risks and sought confrontation, but also that it would have been far easier for them to have avoided the collision than for the Japanese to have prevented it.


The New Zealand terrorists cannot help but boast about the Ady Gil here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6hsB5IqO-dw&feature=related

This video also shows what a super boat they have:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ovtXC8zLH8&feature=related

And in this slick footage, you can clearly see the speed and maneuverability:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pR96rKo6M7k&feature=related


"Sea Shepherd extremism is becoming more violent... Their actions are nothing but felonious behaviour"
---ICR, Japan



HUNTING THE SNARK

Frankly, I think that whaling in this day and age is misguided, to say the least. It would probably be best if it ceased entirely.

But I take exception to a bunch of know-it-all middle-class white folks imposing their view on the rest of the world through bully-boy tactics, and furthermore doing it in ways which are calculated to insult, demean, and infuriate other cultures.

From Wikipedia:
"The Sea Shepherd Conservation Society is a non-profit marine conservation organization based in Friday Harbor, Washington in the United States that utilizes direct action tactics. "


Additionally, employing piracy ("direct action tactics") on the high seas, and knowing themselves immune from prosecution because the Western Nations have a smug sense of cultural superiority, and will make exceptions to international law as they see fit, is the height of arrogance.

If there were any justice in this world, Sea Shepherd vessels would be blown out of the water and whatever drifting survivors surrendered would be strung up after being put on trial.
At the very least, the United States should yank their tax-exempt status. It is untenable that such a bunch of terrorists should be coddled in any way by our government.

Those five New Zealanders and that Dutchman ought to be arrested when they set foot on land again, for piracy and attempted murder.

RICE SHEET NOODLES

One of the marvelous cheap eats in Chinatown that I have loved for as long as I can remember is steamed rice-sheet noodle, commonly called Cheung Fan: 腸粉 - also sometimes referred to as Chu Cheung Fan: 豬腸粉 (pronounced 'chee cheong fun' in Singapore).
Neither of these appellations is attractive in translation, as the first term (腸粉) means "intestine (腸) rice-noodle (粉)", and the second term, chu cheung fan (豬腸粉) could be interpreted to mean "pig (豬) guts (腸) rice-noodle (粉)".
There are no guts, nor anything porky, in this comestible.
The unlovely name evokes the appearance, with quite a bit of poetic license.
It is a soft tender sheet of rice-noodle with flavourful inclusions, translucent white, slightly glistening, moist and smooth on the tongue, very easy on the digestion. It is rolled over after cooking, hence the perceived similarity with digestive organs.

NOTE: 腸 (cheung) is perhaps best approximated by pronouncing it as 'cherng'.



腸粉

To make cheung fan, a mixture of rice flour and water is poured into a sheet pan and steamed, the finished product then rolled loosely, and cut to form chopstickable segments.
Common variations are shrimp roll (Ha-Cheung: 蝦腸), dry shrimp roll (Hamei Cheung: 蝦米腸), and beef shreds roll (Ngau-yuk Cheung: 牛肉腸). The amount of flavouring ingredient is not very great, so chopped chive or scallion will often be added-in before cooking, or strewn over when serving.
Cheung fan are eaten warm or at room temperature with a drizzle of soy sauce or a smidge of 'sweet sauce' (tim jeung: 甜酱 - usually just another term for hoisin jeung: 海鲜酱).
They are also very good with a dash of hot oil or chili paste.

Cheung fan are a comfort food beyond compare. And the breakfast of champions.



RAINY DAY ESURIENCE

On New Year's Day I ambled over Nob Hill in mid-afternoon, enjoying the soft drizzle that cloaked the vistas of both bridges and silvered the sky, till at last I descended into Chinatown via Jackson Street.
I was peckish at this point, and I knew what I wanted.
However, a beloved restaurant, where I happily snacked for years, seemed to have disappeared.
This was disconcerting - Chinatown has been hit hard by the economic downturn, and as always this close to Chinese New Year (年初一 is on the fifteenth of January in 2010) many business are so strained for cash to pay off debts (customary at this time) that several close their doors for good.

That restaurant was a fixture, one of the Chinatown classics. It would be sorely missed.

What I did not realize until AFTER snarfing down cheung fan, radish cake (Lobo Gau: 蘿蔔糕) and some lovely flaky char-siu rolls (with what must have been the nastiest, most perverse, gut-dissolver coffee ever!) at a different place, was that the restaurant which I missed had simply moved across the street and down hill.
Oh crap.

Same people. Same food. Same thriving business.


No, I shall not mention the name of the place. No way, no how.

Reason being that ALL the reviews on YELP make it seem like a hell-hole.
The only good thing people say about it, and this is pretty consistent, is that eating there did NOT make them sick - some of them waited for several days before confirming this, as they had believed that at any moment daemons would awaken in their stomachs after eating there.
It is described as cheap, nasty, unsanitary, utterly disgusting...... and even worse.
The reviews are absolutely horrific.

But, you see, I like it. And so do many other people.
Did I mention that it has been around for years?
They must be doing something very right indeed to have thrived for so long.

Never mind what the various internet 'cognoscenti' think.
What the devil do white people know about Chinese food anyway?
Hah!

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CORRECTION


January 6, 2010
Quote: " ...... and as always this close to Chinese New Year (年初一 is on the fifteenth of January in 2010)".

This turns out to be totally wrong. I misread my calendar (free, courtesy of 聯合銀行 - United Commercial Bank). Didn't notice which month began on January 15.
The beginning of the next year (正月初一) is actually on Sunday, February 14; one entire month later. Evenso, the pattern still holds true - many businesses tend to close their doors forever at this time due to the tradition of paying off all debts BEFORE the new year.
By the same token, new businesses scramble to open shop too.
It is a period of changes.

If you are an unmarried youngster, Chinese New Year is when you can really score big - all your relatives, and your friends' parents, will be handing out red envelopes with money.
Called 'Hong Pao' (red packet: 紅包) in Mandarin, Lay-see ('profits affirmed': 利是) in Cantonese, such monetary gifts are customary at happy occasions and certain celebrations, and, not at all surprisingly, are also an excellent method for bribing officials or co-opting people.
Children make out like bandits during this time, as even neighbors and shopkeepers will give them lucky money.

Elderly bachelors and old-maids are somewhat ambivalent about the whole deal - the take is seldom big enough to give them any joy, and the (deliberate) reminder that really they should be married by now can be irritating. Very intensely irritating.

In some families it is customary for all junior members, even if grey-haired, to be given lay-see by the older generation; it's a way of reaffirming the pecking order.
Family hierarchy, in the Chinese environment, is quite as important as profit.

MOROCCAN ASSAULTS IN CULEMBORG

The relations between Euro-Moroccans and others in the Netherlands took a turn for the worse recently, with a number of violent incidents culminating in vehicular assault in Culemborg.

Telegraaf article 1.
http://www.telegraaf.nl/binnenland/5709217/__14_Aanhoudingen_in_Culemborg__.html?p=17,1
[In Dutch: Fourteen people arrested for using driving a driving a car into a group of people in the Terweijde neighborhood.]

Telegraaf article 2.
http://www.telegraaf.nl/binnenland/5709328/___Honderd_relschoppers_in_Terweijde___.html
[In Dutch: Roughly one hundred troublemakers in the Terweijde neighborhood in Culemborg, where conflict between Moroccans and Moluccers has been going on for years.]

Telegraaf article 3.
http://www.telegraaf.nl/binnenland/5710692/__Molukse_bewoners_houden_de_wacht__.html?p=1,1
[In Dutch: Moluccers patrolling neighborhood to prevent further outrages by Moroccan thugs, no faith in burgomaster - accuse city fathers of ignoring problems, attending only to needs of white community. Quote: "we have no burgomaster..."]



MENA - MURIA

My sympathies, naturally, lie with the Moluccers.

For four centuries Moluccers were an intrinsic part of the Dutch realm as soldiers whose loyalty and guts were beyond reproach. Following the Japanese occupation of the East-Indies they took to the hills and continued the fight long after the formal Dutch surrender.
During the Bersiap period in Indonesia after the war, Moluccan soldiers guarded the survivors of the prison camps from assaults by the terrorists on the Nationalist side.
The Moluccan soldiers left Indonesia with the Dutch, and the post-war government (*) screwed them over just like they screwed over every one else: the camp-survivors, the Indos who were kicked out of Indonesia, the loyalist soldiers who remained in the East, as well as the returnees from Hitler's hell-holes.

Moluccers are tough and stubborn, and their contribution to the Dutch cause throughout the centuries has been inestimable.

[(*) DUTCH GOVERNMENT: Para 1: The Dutch government is ALWAYS right. Para 2: If, exceptionally, the Dutch government should be wrong, para 1 become effective again immediately. Para 3: Disregarding either para 1 or para 2 is lèse majesté.
Note here the clear superiority of the Napoleonic code, especially when coupled with a constitutional mercantile monarchy (ie: "Western European Democracy").
I did not write this and I have no idea how this utterly disloyal text crept into my blog. Must be them furreners! Honest!]


Moroccans in the Netherlands do not have a sterling reputation. That probably explains why so many other Dutch are also voicing support for the Moluccans in this issue. The Moroccan-Dutch hooligans in Culemborg may discover that though they outnumber the Moluccers, they have bitten off more than they can chew.
In which case it is quite likely that Culemborg burgomaster Roland van Schelven, precisely as he is doing now, will bleat ineffectively.
Little more than officious hand-wringing can be expected from so astute a politician in any case.


NOTE: Mena Muria is the Moluccan battle cry, originally derived from phrase yelled by rowers on war canoes to synchronize their strokes. Literally, it means "front - back", but by extension it is a powerful expression of unity and resolve. It is also used at protests and demonstrations as a slogan and rallying cry.
The modern meaning is roughly 'all together'.

MALAYSIAN PURITANS SPOIL NEW YEAR

Fifty-two unmarried couples could face charges of sexual misconduct and jail terms after being caught in hotel rooms by Malaysia's Islamic morality police.
[From the BBC]

SOURCE:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/8439899.stm


Quote:
Those detained in the early hours of New Year's Day were mainly students and young factory workers. The Muslim couples are expected to be charged with the offence of close proximity, or Khalwat.
Under Malaysia's Islamic Sharia Law, couples who are not married to each other should not be in a secluded area or confined space, which could give rise to suspicion that they were engaged in immoral acts.
[End quote]


Please note that sharia only applies to people registered as Muslims in Malaysia - normal people can do whatever they want, as long as they do not attempt to convert Muslims, and cringe obediently whenever a Muslim has a hissy fit.
Occasionally the Muslims riot over perceived grievances or small endowments, at which point it is wise for more mature people to take cover.

[Yes, I realize that my comments above are frightfully meanspirited. Tathapi 'ko enti give-a-damn. M'ngade, kabanyean na Muslim-fanatik di Malaysia lang-kaga, kutamto oro adab tja. Atjaranema sametek sehi bangpulak, gatverdamme. Djambiton ite.]


When convicted, the couples will probably receive two years in prison and be forced to pay a fine.
Afterwards, having been persecuted by Islamic authorities, they may wish to apply for asylum elsewhere.
If they do so, we wish them good luck and G-dspeed.

ANNIVERSARY

Twenty years ago a certain kitten and I had our first date.
It has been a good twenty years. A very good twenty years.

For the next three years we met regularly at a bookstore which no longer exists.
In 1993 we moved in together.

We're still living together.
Same apartment.

I look twenty years older.
She has hardly aged at all.

I am looking forward to the next twenty years.
And I think she is too.

Have a happy new year, all of you.
See you again in January.

CLUELESS IN HOLLAND

Made the mistake of reading De Telegraaf during lunch - as usual, agida was the result.
An article mentioned an American Schoolteacher who was sentenced to twenty years for having sex with a thirteen year old boy.


Twintig jaar cel voor seks met leerling
http://www.telegraaf.nl/buitenland/5684122/__Twintig_jaar_cel_voor_seks_met_leerling__.html?p=10,1
IDAHO - Een Amerikaanse lerares is dinsdag door de rechtbank veroordeeld tot twintig jaar celstraf omdat ze seks had met een 13-jarige leerling.

[It's about a thirty seven year old school teacher in Idaho, Ashley Jo Beach, who had a torrid affair that lasted several months with a 13 year-old student - they sent each other nude pictures of themselves via cellphone in addition to banging up a storm.]



SEX CRIME

The key fact of the matter is that she molested a minor, and one who was her responsibility, nota bene. Irrespective of gender, that must be considered abuse of power and authority, in addition to child-rape.
It is quite clear-cut.

Of course, the Dutch, who know all there is to know about sexual abuse, do not see it that way. Well over half of the 155 comments underneath the article praise the woman and damn the country that sentenced her for raping a child - which in the eyes of over half of the commenters is only a minor matter, scarce deserving any punishment at all.

The United States, in their words, is a frightful puritan hell hole, and responsible for ninety percent of all misery in the world today.
We are the armpit of the planet, and pustulence personified.
And they feel good about saying that.

Many of the commenters feel that any punishment of the teacher for having an affair with a student is utterly ridiculous, and the severity of the punishment is beyond all reason.
Apparently it betrays our hypocrisy and a demented value system, we're a disgusting and appalling nation of pornographers and violent criminals, totally backward, unadvanced, retrograde, and uncivilized.

A fair number of the writers also laud the woman, and consider her a hero - both praiseworthy and commendable.


I have in the past rather indicated my feelings about the Dutch and their sexual predilections.......

[This post:
http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/11/keep-europeans-especially-dutch-out.html
in which I damn them all as sexual degenerates and perverts of the worst order.
And this post:
http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2008/11/joran-van-der-sloot-and-women-flesh.html
where I take issue with Dutch attitudes towards American teenagers.
This post discusses European attitudes towards the sexual exploitation of women in general: http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2009/03/european-sexual-degeneracy.html
and mentions sexual slavery in the Netherlands in particular.]



ON THE OTHER HAND

But the bright side is that NOT ALL COMMENTERS underneath the article in De Telegraaf condemn us; several of the readers understand that a teacher abusing a position of power and authority is reprehensible. They also grasp that a mere slap on the wrist combined with community service, such as is common in the Netherlands for indecent acts with a minor, do not even begin to address the issue. Many even observed that the gender of the victim and the gender of the perpetrator are immaterial - if it should not happen to a thirteen year old girl, it should also not be done to a thirteen year old boy.

So while I would recommend not allowing any Europeans, especially the Dutch, anywhere near your children, I am pleased to report that they are not all utter degenerates. Not all of them.
There is an intelligent and civilized minority that has to put up with their countrymen and maintain their reason despite such dysfunctional neighbors.
That they manage to do so at all is commendable, that many of them do it so well is miraculous.

[There is even a Dutch website, Stop Kinderporno Nu (http://www.stopkinderpornonu.com/) which combats paedophilia and struggles to bring child-molestors to justice. What makes their task much more difficult than it should be is the incredibly light sentencing customary in the Netherlands for sex-crimes, even violent ones and repeat-offenses. A few weeks community service, or a talk with a social worker, are quite common. Gang rape usually means counseling for the perpetrators. Most sex-crimes in the Netherlands go unpursued, unprosecuted, and unpunished.]

If you are a young woman, it is probably not advisable to visit the Netherlands until they have changed their sexual dialectic. Or if you do, avoid drinking in bars at the very least, in order to avoid date-rape drugs.
But the same can be said for much of Europe, as well as parts of England, Mississippi, Georgia, and the third world.

CODE PINK - CHANTING AND TWIRLING FOR FREEDOM!

Sometimes I like cruising into the Indymedia sites just to see what the hobbits are up to.
It hasn't been very productive recently, as many of them now neglect to put their announcements up - perhaps they no longer trust the big bad internet since the Jews and Masons have taken over.

But today, lucky strike!


Sunrise CodePINK:Women for Peace (RE) Commitment Ceremony
Friday January 01
6:30 AM - 8:00 AM

Sunrise (RE)Commitment Ceremony, New Year’s Day Jan 1, 2010, Ocean Beach, SF, 6:30am
Let’s begin our new year, our new decade, with an inspirational CodePINK: Women for Peace Sunrise (RE)Commitment Ceremony New Year’s Day. We will build a bonfire on the beach, sing, talk, chant, and revive our wills, fine tune our commitments, stoke our determination.

Comment: And the chanting will tell the flying saucers where to land!


Bring a log, a branch, a speck, a piece of paper, with you to this Sunrise Ceremony to throw onto the fire. Bring a blanket, your own cup for organic hot apple cider, dress warm, look for the PINK on Ocean Beach, west of Golden Gate Park!

Comment: For the cold, a fur coat or bearskin rug is probably best.
If you bring alcoholic beverages, make sure that they too are organic certified - you can tell by the soft golden aura around the bottle.


The next three months will be the MOST critical times of our lives in this country: we will get to determine if Congress grants President Obama BILLIONS more of our money to fund his proposed SURGE against Afghanistan! Or not!

Comment: We weren't succesfull against Bush and Cheney, but Obama is a wuss, and Congress is now dominated by our androids. If we lose AGAIN, it's surely because of the FreeMasons, the Bilderburgers, the Club of Rome, the Illuminati, and the Zionists.


What will WE do to ensure it is NOT? Let us (RE)commit ourselves on New Years Day, Friday, January 1st, to doing EVERYTHING in our power over the next three months – the beginning of this new decade, January, February, and March – to BLOCKING this war supplemental and thereby turning the tide of our wars once and for all.

Comment: Everything in our power includes chanting, tunnel hum, twirling clockwise AND counter-clockwise, shaking tortoise shell rattles, and pouting. We are all Medea Benjamin.


Do not worry about how, or when, or what it will cost, or whether it will work, or not. Worry about those things that are BLOCKING YOU from committing 100% to BLOCKING this funding.

Comment: Don't forget the certified organic hard liquor. It's crucial.


We will put all those reasons blocking us, from lethargy to depression to money to priorities to whatever into these logs and burn them, transforming whatever is holding us back into positive energies!

Comment: Positive karmic energy is better than electricity! And it's organic too! Wheeeee!


Call 510-540-7007 or email info bayareacodepink .org for more info, to help organize, to participate or just BE THERE!

Comment: Humm into our answering machine!


Source:
http://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2009/12/24/18633564.php


Ladies, don't forget to wear your tutus. Can't twirl without 'em.

=====================================================
"By expanding our awareness and intention of holding peas, being peas, speaking peas, we give voice and power to peas...... "
=====================================================

AFTERWORD

CodePink was mentioned previously elsewhere in connection with their two hour starvation per day in solidarity with tourists in Egypt - two hours entirely without food, each day, for three days this week, sitting on the sidewalk in front of the Egyptian Consulate - it's something existential or Zen, don't ask - so when I found that these dear, dear ladies of loose moorings were planning an earthmother chanting and pyromania party at the beach, I just had to smile.

Girls, I love you.
Such spotless minds.
Bonfires are very macho, by the way.

Like Frank Chiu and the Bush Man of Fishermans' Wharf, you CodePinkers are ambulatory landmarks, the contemporary equivalents of Emperor Norton.