Friday, August 24, 2007


I will be at an all-day event tomorrow, at which I will be surrounded by people with whom I would rather not associate.

The venue has a minor religious connotation, the event itself does also.
This is not an open-minded event, and these folks are not 'nice' people.

Consequently, I intend to let the rigid, vicious, venomous, Netherlandish side of my personality and my heritage float to the surface of my mind.

To whit: All the world's conflicts pale in comparison to the struggle to preserve the culture, integrity, and rights, of the Netherlands and Flanders. Which have for centuries been under siege by the French and the Walloons, more recently by the Maghrebis.
And I do mean ALL the world's conflicts. Bloody-mindedly so.

Tomorrow, the plight of Tibet will be nothing - what does it have to do with the flood of Walloon carpet-baggers who have swamped formerly Flemish lands, and even taken over Brussels?
The crisis in Darfur, the enmity between the Greeks and the Turks, the suffering of Christians in Maluku, the poor bleeding Kashmiris, the savagery in Afghanistan, Chechnia, and Rwanda, and even the agony of the victims of ethnic cleansing in the Balkans - all these too are quite immaterial; the eternal need to expel Walloons and their quislings and collaborators will tomorrow be uppermost. Rhetorically, at least. As a form of mental self-preservation. "Our cause is the most important one in the world, screw you and your pathetic bleedingheart sympathy for that bunch of buggery losers. Who did you say you were with?"

I would like to remind my readers, illogically rant-segueing therefrom, that 'our' finest hour was July eleventh, in the year 1302, when we extinguished France's hegemonistic ambitions, slaughtered her knights (feudal aristocrats!), and preserved Western liberty and popular democracy on the field of golden spurs, outside Kortryk. This, scarcely two months after liberating Brugge (on May 18th, 1302) from the degenerates, and laving her streets with the blood of every Frenchspeaker in the city, a pox upon them.
Both of these glorious achievements have been celebrated in song and story, and are our proudest victories.


I am by no means a cultural-relativist.

I shall of course be subtle - there may be half-breed Walloons present. There will certainly be willing Germans and useful idiots.

I'll probably write about it on Monday. That will be a form of purging. A purificatory ritual, so to speak.

1 comment:

Tzipporah said...

So, nu, what happened? Or have you been bludgeoned by Walloons and left unable to blog??

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