FULLY CLOTHED DINNER

I recently cruised into 'The Clochard Times', a blog which I visit every two or three months. I would visit more often, but the author of that blog actually has a life, and is much more in touch with the grim endeavor of living in the real world than I am, and in consequence does not write nearly as much as I do.

But he does update, and he adds much to the discourse.

[This blog: http://clochardtimes.blogspot.com/ This post: http://clochardtimes.blogspot.com/2007/09/de-democratische-volksrepubliek.html ]


The author, Habib Ben Achim Marwan, posts an article which seems to suggest that since wars always seem to start in the morning, it was the drinking and dancing the night before that should probably be banned.


Related thereto he mentions the sexual thrills experienced by both Angelina Jolie and Madonna, allegedly caused by adoption. The author of this blog was already familiar with orgasm without resultant pregnancy -- Habib Ben Achim Marwan shows that moto-babes Jolie and Esther have taken the "A without B" concept many steps further.
He then suggests that famous people should all be given an entire country to adopt. He quotes Paris Hilton, who is as good an example as any that the constant overwhelming celebrity quiver-thrill-gasp of adopting an entire country would be good for the world - she would be too busy writhing with pleasure to hit the frontpage, we would never have to hear about the bitch again, and some place like Sukambambo would finally, finally (!) end up with all the food, medicine, education, infrastructure, cheap sexual attention, and imported plastic consumer goods that the residents have desperately wished for all of their lives. Orgasmic for everyone concerned.

Then follows a recipe for fillets of Bonobo in Ardenoise fruit compote.

After which the names of a number of Belgian celebritities are mentioned. Either in connection with the fabulous bush-meat recipe (Fillets de Bonobo a la Marie-Rose Morel), or as candidates for both nation-adopting and as possible co-stars in a snuf-film involving Paris Hilton.

Let me cite a particularly good passage:
"Als je op een hippe cocktailparty voldoende cocaïne gesnoven hebt, zou je in staat moeten zijn om de nieuwe leider van Congwanda te zien. Een 5 meter grote robot met een snor die enkel binair kan communiceren en die constant criminelen en ander uitschot in actieve vulkanen smijt."
['Once you've snarfed enough cocaine at a hip cocktail party, you should be able to see the new leader of Congwanda. A fifteen foot tall robot with a mustache, who is only capable of communicating binarily, and constantly tosses criminals and other scumbuckets into active volcanos.']

I am much taken with this image.


I would recommend that you go to his site to read the entire article, but alas, you probably do not read Flemish, and his entire hyperbolous metaphor of the current political crisis in Belgium would escape you.