BAD TEMPERED OLD TOAD

Sometime around now last year, various people who could not find the Netherlands on a map if it were marked in big bold letters saying "THEY SPEAK CHEESE HERE" formed opinions about a cute little tradition of the Dutch, namely having people wear splendid mediaeval drag and caper around with their faces painted black, scaring little kiddies.
Now, of course I think it's a mighty fine tradition. Not because I'm a racist, but because I am biased against other people's nasty children.
The little shits need to be hounded, mercilessly.
Badly behaved monsters.

And, upon mature reflection, you will realize that this is indeed so. Your own precious loin-fruits, if they're still small are making your life 100% miserable, and if they're already grown-up they are driving you into the poorhouse, what with having to take remedial English and social basket weaving studies at Harvard, Yale, MIT, or whatever other damned tradeschool you've shipped them off to for eight years.

If anything, your children are racists. You know that they'll react badly to what would be a normal face except that it is a shiny neon-black, jumping out at them and screaming "boo".
If they didn't have all manner of praeconceptions -- praeconceptions that YOU inculcated in the little turds -- they would NOT react with shock, surprise, and crap in their trousers terror.

BOO, YOU LITTLE RASCAL, BOO!

[SOURCE: http://www.zwartepiet.nl/.]

And, speaking of racism, I am keenly desirous that some true-blue disapproving American type explain to me why Thanksgiving is not a horridly insensitive celebration.

As I understand it, we took corn, turkeys, and wide open spaces by the bucket load from the natives, and gave them smallpox, measles, and syphilis in exchange.

Yes, I know that getting the better part of the deal is more than sufficient reason to be filled with glee, and it does call for massive celebration.
But isn't it just a tiny bit nauseating? Should our schadenfreude at their getting royally shafted really be so bold, so blatant?

Can't we just discreetly withdraw to our various severe Protestant churches, lock the door for an hour or two, and quietly thank the good lord for the opportunity to screw over our little red brethren, without inviting them or any inconvenient witnesses in to observe our joy?


Now, tell me again why you think mediaeval finery and sooty facial colour is not quite cricket.

At least the sober Dutch promise the little terrors a good thrashing if they've misbehaved.

Whereas most mono-lingual English-speakers keep assuring them that an unshaven lard-ass pervert in a never-washed red bathrobe is going to give them Playstations and Videogames. All they have to do is sit on his lap, then he'll order his height-impaired indentured servants or illegal aliens to take care of everything, and they'll get candy, too!

Plus turkey in November, and in December.

Mustn't forget the damned turkey.

It's our best theft.

Boo.




No, I don't have any plans for Thanksgiving. Just gonna get my Scrooge on real early this year. I'm completely unattached, no kids or nearby kin, I can do that. Unless there's something nice wrapped in tasteful lingerie under the tree I don't intend to put up, I shall ignore Christmas also.
I'm not a celebratory kind of guy.




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RACIST DUTCH ADDICTED TO BLACKFACE

According to a recent news report, the Sinterklaas evening at the Dutch embassy in Washington will NOT include Zwarte Piet. This because the Americans have finally noticed the discord being generated by having someone in bold garish blackface caper, and threaten kids.

The report made quite clear that it was a decision by the embassy, there was no outside pressure, nor was there significant noise from any local Washingtonians that might have influenced them. It was due to possible sensitivities that blackfaced Pete was banned.


Background: Every year Saint Nicholas comes from Spain with his servant Pete, who is a Moorish gentleman with a gay preference for mediaeval poofy pants and colourful clothing, armed with a broom or faggot for birching the bejazis out of naughty children (boys). On the night of December 5, both of them ride across the roofs to distribute gifts and candy to obedient children, and abduct the delinquents, who will be taken back to Spain and sold to Arab slave-dealers.
Black Pete, naturally, is the bad cop in this equation.
As Mauritanians are a bit of a rarity in Holland, Black Pete's role is usually filled by someone in darkest shiniest blackface -- often a zesty teenage girl when I was a child, and please imagine what I presently think about shapely legs in dark dark hose -- wearing colourful motley, shoe polish, and brilliant red lipstick.
A typical American psychologist would say that I'm scarred from this, conflicted about skin-hue at the very least. That is of course quite absurd, but man oh man do I like dark thigh-highs.

As well as bright red pouty lipstick.

Oof.


ZWARTE PIET IS SACRED

The internet comments (in Dutch) make clear that attentive reading is a skill. It may even require talent. Readers over in the lowlands are going berserk. Many are now horribly offended that the United States dares to have opinions about their beloved tradition of having someone put on blackface and prance around like a demented dingo. It's for the children, dammit, stupid Americans! The children!
The Dutch embassy is legally foreign territory, defend our right to have curly hair frightwigs and thick lips there! Even if we have to forcefully eject every dumbass Yank from the building! The Americans are all a bunch of racist pigs, and ignorant besides, we'll show them what real culture is; ten thousand elderly Dutchmen wearing black pantyhose and poofy thigh-pants! Birch them all!
Clearly the Americans are cultural imperialists, forcing everyone to celebrate Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and trying to outlaw all other festival traditions.
Swine!

And if Zwarte Piet is discriminatory, what about Father Christmas? An enslaver of height impaired people! Exploitation, capitalist excess, and sweatshop conditions! The cruelty! Arctic polluter!
And white! White! How racist!

I know -- let's boycott the damned Yanks!


Attentive reading is a skill, and possibly requires some talent. Skill and talent may be in very short supply in some villages in the hinterlands. Meaningful texts are so seldom encountered there that the peasants in Borrelkleum and Voddegeest, and other depressed little villages out in the polder, may not be entirely able to figure out what it all means.

And, keen to blame someone, they conclude that it's all the fault of the Americans.


AFTER WORD

Please note that reader-input underneath news articles often represents no more than the idiot classes, drunk again, and often crazy. They don't understand the world, and their desire to form a framework that makes it all comprehensible often leads to nutzoid beliefs and paranoia.
By and large, only the glueheads react thus and there.

Intelligent people will ponder well-written blogposts that they find on interesting internet sites, and leave their thoughtful comments here.
That is the difference between this feuilleton and a tabloid.
As, I'm sure, you've realized.


PS. Sorry about the incendiary subject line above this essay; it was written by my editorial team, which consists of several monkeys high as kites on fermented bananas, as well as a herring-snarfing penguin with severe attention deficit disorder.

I had nothing to do with it.




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A GIRL IN BLACKFACE, A DANE, AND ONE HUNDRED RUTTING GEEKS

The day had started sensibly enough with a big steaming bowl of curried chilipepper and meaty bits over rice-stick noodles. It seemed like a suitable breakfast, when one was planning to be surrounded by several men wielding large pieces of wood for most of the evening.
Happy men, with glee in their hearts.
Over-stimulated men.

That being a meeting of our local pipe-club. Which is mostly composed of very safe people; doctors, lawyers, leatherworkers, and the like.

Nicotine, as you know, is a stimulant.


THE WILDS OF MARIN

No, nothing untoward happened. There was no dancing on tables with nothing but a lamp shade on our head. No gay stripping, or attempts to slap each other with fish.
We're doctors, lawyers, leather workers (and the like), remember?

To the best of my knowledge, none of us are naturists.

First off, I should admit that I smoked a total of eight bowls between tea-time and midnight. In consequence of which I woke up trembling at seven the next day. Nicotine is a stimulant.


Erik Michael Stokkebye was there, along with samples of the blends representing the four generations of his family that have been in the tobacco trade, of which there are five.
The fifth is the 1882 Founders Mixture, which is an exceedingly nice English blend.


"This Mixture is the epitome of English tobacco blending tradition and is sure to please the discerning palate. 1882 achieves the perfect balance of Latakia and Oriental sun-cured tobaccos, enhanced by mature Virginias from the USA and complemented by full body Kentucky tobaccos. A classic English smoke using only the finest quality leaf.
This is a must-try for all fans of English tobaccos."


Capsule review: Nice. Had two bowls, then stole most of what was left after the tin had been around the table, leaving only enough for three more eventual sample smokes. With two dozen members in attendance, it's a miracle that any remained to surreptitiously pocket. Those greedy opportunists showed NO restraint.
The Turk is at a lovely level, the Latakia is perhaps at forty percent, and the Virginias and air-cured leaf work harmoniously to form the third leg. This is something well worth stockpiling, which I certainly intend to do. It is an exceptional classic-style product.

By the way, in addition to the doctors, lawyers, leather men, and Indian chiefs mentioned above, we also have wine makers among our ranks.
Wine is NOT a stimulant.

Several bottles were "sampled".

I did not have any, as one needs a clear head when tins of the good stuff are opened. And left laying about.


Master blender Greg Pease was also present, so after Erik Stokkebye discussed tobacco, cigars, pipes, and his illustrious forebears who sold fragrant leaf -- the family has been all over at this point; Denmark, Switzerland, Sumatra, etcetera -- we veered into examining the tin art for our club blend, which Greg created for us.

It is a medium full English, with an antique Virginia base. Something which you would find in the old days at a respectable tobacconists in an English or European city.
Should be available within a month or two.
Definitely worth stockpiling.
Delightful.

I forced Greg to discuss his newest product (Gaslight) after we looked at the label for our own tobacco. Greg has produced a solid-pressed Latakia plug, which I had already had a taste of when it was in the final stages, courtesy of a friend.
So of course it was tried by members in attendance.

Nicotine is a stimulant.

While no one was watching I pocketed a chunk of it. About which I now feel incredibly guilty, because later Greg asked me with concern if I had taken some, and I indicated that indeed I had smoked half a bowl (not mentioning what I pilfered), whereupon he kindly cut me a cube to take home.
I now have enough for six big bowls, or ten small bowls.
Nobody is coming over till they're gone.
It is very good.

Gaslight is what a pressed Latakia mixture is supposed to be. After the debacle last year with a militantly perfumed Lat brick that some people raved about, it is glorious to have a product that fulfills all promises.
As a blender, Greg knows exactly what he is doing.

Despite being heavy on the dark Oriental, there is a sufficient inclusion of red Virginias that it not only has the requisite nicotine, and a balance, but will also age exceptionally well. If you put a tin aside now and open it five or six years hence, your nose will be seduced by a profound and ethereal embrace, a fragrance that will provoke memories you might not have realized were there.

Yes, that's a strong recommendation. Remember, I stole one cube before Greg generously gave me more of it.
I actually wanted to swipe the tin. Not a chance, unfortunately.

The first time I smoked it, a while back when it had not yet gone into regular production, I had to have a second cup of coffee, stronger and blacker than the first. It was the very first smoke of the day.
By noon time, I was happy as a clam.
It is well worth stockpiling.
Slow-burning, dense.
Depraved.


When I arrived before the meeting began, a new member was happily dawdling over a selection of old Barlings which I cleaned up recently, and trays with Dunhills and Charatans on which I had worked were behind the counter waiting for review. Later, after the meeting started breaking up, I suggested to my fellow Dutch American that he should take a gander at the Barling pipes, as, being somewhat opportunistic, and an egomaniac besides, I like hearing oohs and aahs.
Almost nothing is as sensual as a polished piece of wood.


Three of us ended up back in the city afterwards, at the Occidental, where several more bowls were smoked. Unfortunately the place was packed with bright young lads from a local computer company, swilling expensive Scotch and huffing stogies.


CIVILIZATION, PINE STREET

We were joined by V, who is a highly skilled code monkey for a different outfit than the 100+ e-cigarees. His take on the giddy crowd of compugeeks flocking around and twittering like birds succinctly expressed: "this is a mating frenzy; there's more than one woman here, they can't help it".
Many nerds seldom see so much female flesh in one place at the same time, given that they spend all day in dank cubicles, hiding under their desks, fondling their greasy keyboards, alone, in the cold and damp.
I don't think that any actual mating took place, but I have no idea how dorks reproduce, so I could be wrong. Maybe it's by amplexis, like salamanders.
Frenzied praying mantis cannibalism, or cell-division.
V did not enlighten us about the process.
I'll have to ask for details.


BLACK PETE

Naturally the subject of Black Pete came up. Black Pete (Zwarte Piet) is the helper of Saint Nicholas in the Netherlands, whose feast-day on December sixth is celebrated by giving gifts to kiddies during the night of December fifth (Sinterklaas Avond, Saint Nick's Eve).
The idea of people painting their face black, capering about in absurd Hispano-mediaeval garb, and acting like bogeymen has been somewhat divisive in recent years, as black people in Holland are ambivalent about it, and white people absolutely refuse to consider that it might not be the best representation of negritude that little children are exposed to.

The solution, I thought, was simple. Get rid of the saint. The Netherlands has a long history of religious conflict, and having a churchman bribing children is potentially problematic in any case. And it's only by contrast with the decrepit bearded bishop that Black Pete is the baddy.
If all roles were unified in only one person (that being Black Pete), it would take away the negativity.

Nix the old white dude!

Black Pete: simultaneously judge, jury, and executioner.
Both the good guy with gifts, and the meanie.
Rewards, and also punishments.
A magic blackman.

Yeah, still played by a young woman in blackface and fancy page boy costume. Because you can't have anything too real about a folkloric figure. Gotta maintain the suggestion of otherness.
He's supernatural.

Besides, I like the concept of young ladies in blackface, poufy short breeches, and dark pantyhose.

Unfortunately the other three people promptly took that ball and ran with it, demanding that the person in black face should be a teenage Japanese chickadee wearing a tight leather bodice and frilly Hello Kitty underwear.
The dominatrix bustier suggests the chastising role, the naughty Hello Kitty panties would be 'rewarding'. And, they insisted, obviously some people are obsessed with Hello Kitty, and despite screeching denials, dwell upon the cutesy pussycat. And why on earth was I resisting, they knew better, they had seen the evidence on my blog.

At this point V remarked that he was surrounded by middle-aged pervs.
Which, though marginally accurate, seemed irrelevant.

Japanese girls in kitty kat S&M get-up?

No! Absolutely not. Black Pete in Hello Kitty undergarb is just plain wrong.
No matter the gender of the black-faced individual playing Black Pete, the costume should more or less resemble what the Papal Guard wears.
That's quite queer enough.

There's a tradition to maintain.

Reserve the girls in pink French cuts and leather straps for a different occasion. Perhaps to frighten rutting computer geeks, or something.

Nicotine is a stimulant.



I realize now that we forgot to take matches when we left the bar. Normally we grab as many as we can to fill our bags when the bartender isn't looking. We must have been distracted by all those techies with cigars.

Nicotine is a stimulant.

TOBACCO INDEX


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BLACKEST MISCHIEF

Over in the Netherlands, the staid and phlegmatic Dutch are losing their minds over blackface. On the whole, they're for it. Support it nearly one hundred percent. Putting on blackface and prancing around like a fool once a year is a great social good, which benefits society.
Truly, they love their blackfaced clowns.

[Background: On the evening of December fifth, Saint Nicholas rides across the roofs with his Moorish servants (all named 'Zwarte Piet' (Black Pete), and distributes gifts to good little children. Bad little children are told that the saint and his pals might beat the crap out of them and stuff them in a burlap bag, never to be seen again. Naturally, some people dress up as the saint and his friends. Blackface. It's somewhat controversial.]

A popular singer to whose music I do not listen, and whose entire oeuvre does not twinkle my toes, got in hot water with some of her legion of fans by opining on faceboook: "Wat staan wij Nederlanders voor lul !! En niet 1 gemeente in Nederland die het eens anders wil gaan aanpakken. Ga je schamen!"

Roughly translated: 'Man we Dutch look like dicks! And not ONE city that even wishes to try a different approach. Be ashamed of yourselves!'


Well, white folks in blackface IS a problematic issue. And it is more than a little doubtful that a single one of those Black Petes intends to give a realistic and deeply thought-out performance of a black man.
The bogeymen associated with the giftgiving festivities of Saint Nicholas all over Europe are quite the beasts. Literally so in several countries; middle Europe has Krampus, the Italians have Befana the witch, the Scandi- navians have Tomten (more or less a troll), along with re-enactments of blood sacrifice and a thrashing, Iceland has Gryla the hag who kidnaps children and eats them (her sons are the gifters, leaving potatoes for naughty kids), and the soft-drink industry popularized the fat bearded pervert.
Santa and Saint Nicholas were originally pagan goblins, and the whole tradition ultimately derives from the Germanic chief god Odin or Wotan (Yolnir) riding on a wild hunt through the night-time sky with his host (the Herlaþing), all of whom are wondrous and frightening, around the middle of winter, pursuing miscreants and passing over the good people. Following which a large number of terrified farm animals are slaughtered, and everybody gets riotously stinko drunk smeared with blood.
Scaring little children is part and parcel of the deal.
A meal of herring and gruel also may occur.
Which is in itself frightening.
And very Germanic.

Still. Folks running around pretending to be scary black men is not exactly the epitome of politically correct, though thoroughly appreciated by nearly everyone who isn't black. Little children love him, because in addition to the threat of a thrashing, he also gives out lots of candy and treats, and they wish to be like him when they grow up as he gets away with all manner of malarkey.

[Note, by the way, that a tradition of people painting themselves black and committing mayhem at night is attested, going back nearly twenty centuries.]


Not everyone in the Netherlands is on board with this, however.
Rock and roll artist Anouk got in Dutch with her fans by facebook-posting the opinion cited above ("Dutch... dicks... different approach... ashamed...").
Many of whom responded with angst and ire.


Examples:

Willem Charite: vieze rvuil vewende kankerhoer dat je bent hoop dat je binnenkort doodvalt het liefst doe ik het zelf tyfus slet.
[Translation: "filthy foul stuck-up cancer whore that you are hope you soon fall dead preferably I will do it myself typhus slut".]

Jane Smith: vergeet niet door die haters en paar racisten heb jij nou wel je gheld zal je aan dat stel apen niet verdienen zo en nee ik ben geen racist maar je kan het krijgen zoals je het wil hebben.
[Translation: don't forget that it was because of those haters and a couple of racists that you have your money that you won't earn from that bunch of monkeys and no I am not a racist but you can get it as you want it."]

John van Elteren: Viert vast wel Sinterklaas, alleen met der eigen zwarte pietjes, nikker lover.
[Translation: "surely celebrates Saint Nicholas Day, only with her own darkies, nigger lover."]

Kelly Maria Dijkhuizen: Beter een racist dan een bruine lover, vies wijf!
[Translation: "better a racist than a brownie lover, filthy bitch."]

Rob van Es: ze heeft goeie nummers hoor maar ze blijft een nigger bitch in mijn ogen en ze sterft van de capsones en vind haar superarrogant dus meschien heeft ze ook wel nigger bloed, leve SINTERKLAAS en zijn ZWARTE PIET.
[Translation: "she has good numbers, eh, but she's still a nigger bitch in my eyes and she'll perish of her pretentious attitudes and consider her super arrogant so maybe she also has nigger blood, vivat Saint Nicholas and his Black Pete."]

Natascha Beton: Ga lekker met die asielzoeker van je naar zijn land van herkomst blanke negerslet
[Translation: "just go with that asylum-seaker of yours to his country of origin white negro slut."]

Cees Vrolijk: We moeten niet discrimineren. Zwarte piet eruit, dan alle zwarten eruit.
[Translation: "we mustn't discriminate. Black Pete goes, then all blacks (should) go."]


Source: http://www.telegraaf.nl/prive/22009436/__Anouk_bedreigd_door_Zwarte_Pieten-fans__.html (article: Anouk bedreigd door Zwarte Pieten-fans, in the Telegraaf - 'Anouk threatened by Black Pete fans').


Everyone of the commenters above will no doubt assert that in fact they aren't racists, and actually have huge numbers of black friends, all of whom are dear sweet people who, if they were totally honest, would no doubt agree with them one hundred percent.

Others may opine that the opinions spewed by Willem, Jane, John, Kelly Maria, Rob, Natascha, and Cees, are NOT representative of the majority, who would never even think such filth, but they themselves never-the-less do wholeheartedly support keeping the tradition alive of white folks painting their faces black and terrorizing little children.
All in a spirit of good clean fun.
Of course.


Personally, I cannot escape the feeling that there is indeed a racist stratum to Dutch society, as well as objectionable elements to old traditions.


Perhaps instead of black-face, we could bring back witch-burnings?



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VERENE SHEPHERD, BLACK PETE, SAINT NICHOLAS, AND MAD CHEESE

Apparently, my fellow Dutch-speakers have intimidated independent experts at the United Nations. This according to a blogpost by the United Nations themselves.

See this: http://blogs.un.org/#sthash.Pz58oVcv.2gMdQhox.dpbs.

Quote:
"While there may be vigorous debate on issues raised by independent experts, these individuals should not be subject to hate speech or attacks on their personal integrity or any form of harassment or intimidation in their defence of human rights, as has happened in this case. - See more at: http://blogs.un.org/#sthash.Pz58oVcv.2gMdQhox.dpuf".
End quote.

Hate speech is not cricket. That's a no-no.

Dingbats, no matter how dingy they bat, should NOT be threatened. Verbally chastised, yes, alerted to their mistakes, fallacies, false praesumptions, unfair praeconceptions, evident bigotries, and the startlingly ridiculousness of their assertions, most definitely.

So-called experts and their alleged expertise should always be questioned. Most particularly as regards the United Nations, which has a long history of unfairness, hatred, and divisive ideologies.
But not threatened. That's just not done.

Bad Dutchman, whoever you are! No salty licorice for you!


Questioning the integrity of anyone associated with that bunch of hectoring loonies and loathsome third-world tin-pot tyrannies and failed states that dominate the United Nations is, however, in the eyes of this blogger, perfectly justified. The letter and subsequent statements originating from Jamaican firebrand professor Verene Shepherd clearly show that she has a bias priori about the issue of Black Pete, and considers the Dutch a rather odious bunch, whose traditions should be suppressed if necessary.


"The working group cannot understand why it is that people in The Netherlands cannot see that this is a throwback to slavery, and that in the twenty first century this practice should stop! My personal view is that in the twenty first century this should not be happening!"

-----Verene Shepherd
[Source: Telegraaf TV, citing from a broadcast by Een Vandaag.]



Given that she came to that unpleasant conclusion BEFORE visiting the Netherlands to examine that tradition, nay, formed her judgment based on her own agenda and that of dubious activists in the Netherlands, examining her personal integrity seems completely appropriate.

Especially as since the storm broke she has refused to speak with Dutch reporters and government representatives, and has been hiding out in some lair avoiding all contact with people who would seek to discuss the matter.

They've tried to communicate with her, but she has disappeared.
Evidently she does not wish to talk about it.
At least, not with them.

Possibly because they're Dutch.


"Recently, four of these experts sent a letter to the Dutch Government relaying information they had received predominantly by people in the Netherlands. According to the information, the character and image of Black Pete perpetuate a stereotyped image of African people and people of African descent as second-class citizens, stirring racial differences as well as racism. The experts also asked whether, as had been reported to them, the Dutch authorities had selected the annual Saint Nicolas Event to be submitted for inclusion in the UNESCO intangible cultural heritage list. - See more at: http://blogs.un.org/#sthash.Pz58oVcv.2gMdQhox.dpuf"

[Source: http://blogs.un.org/#sthash.SDjTEhqT.dpbs, as of Friday October 25, 2013.]


The United Nations often serves as both the forum and the display window for vitriolic spew anent certain countries, groups, and freedoms which the vast majority of this world's nations despise, as it is the one theatre in which all the failed states and repressive tyrannies that litter Africa, Asia, and Latin America can pretend that they are equal.
They are not; they're voices shouldn't be heard.
Not until they clean up their act.


WORKING GROUP OF EXPERTS ON PEOPLE OF AFRICAN DESCENT

Ms. Verene Shepherd has spent too much time surrounded by the comforting support of the intellectual pretendeurs and corrupt diplocrats who make up the majority of the United Nations departments.

Her mind is already made up.
And quite closed.

If she will not speak to the people whom she accuses, and will not accept that an alternative point of view may have some validity, then there is little reason to take her -- and her henchpersons Farida Shaheed ("Special Rapporteur in the field of cultural rights"), Izsàk Rita ("Independent Expert on minority issues"), and Mutuma Ruteere ("Special Rapporteur on contemporary forms of racism, racial discrimination, xenophobia and related intolerance") seriously.
They may be lovely and intelligent individuals. And certainly they are entitled to their opinions. But if they will neither argue their points, nor actually listen to people who have a different take, nay, if they are unwilling to face those whom they accuse, and investigate the matter from anything other than an intellectual distance, they are fakers, and their organization likewise.

But then, it IS the United Nations. There is a venomous miasma of falsehood and dishonesty about that institution which accompanies everything they say, and every cause they champion.


If there is any place on earth where there are devils, it is the United Nations, and a permanent stench of sulfur adheres to it.



Ze zijn daar in New York ronduit belachelijk.



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BLACK PETE: FACE PAINT, WHIPPINGS, AND BOO!

When I was growing up, I had reason to be worried from mid-November till December fifth. It wasn't until I was nearly nine that I figured out that I was being tricked. At the root of this was a black man with a broom (sometimes a bundle of twigs), who would threaten to chastise me (whup me until I screamed), and take me and several other children back to a horrible hot place where people were monsters and subhuman (Spain).
I was not a particularly good little boy at that time.
The same thug would give nice kids candy.

To my great surprise, every year I got as much candy as the smarmy little freaks did. It was miraculous. Aside from a few threatening moves by the big black terror, he proved to be rather a generous sort.


ZWARTE PIET

Every year on the night of December fifth, an Iberian holy man would ride over the roofs on a white horse, accompanied by his blackamoor servant Peter, to sneak down chimneys and reward obedient children. Peter (Piet) was usually played by strapping young ladies in garish blackface, dressed in poufy mediaeval pants and doublets, with a fuzzy-wuzzy wig and a big colourful hat.
It wasn't until I was eight years old or so that I started noticing disturbing elements about the whole thing.
Number one: the all-knowing all-seeing holy man had a horrible memory, and was quite likely senile as all git out: he couldn't remember what I had told him the last time we met, and didn't know me from Adam. He was very unreliable, and possibly crazy. Plus he stank of mothballs.
Number two: Black Pete (Zwarte Piet) seemed to have soft hands, and was actually rather kind. A pleasant dude, if you will. I'll admit that it wasn't until I became aware of breasts that I also noticed that Pete had those.
He was kind of like a Thai she-male prostitute in that regard.
That being a concept I did not know about at the time.

Of course, that was when you could still purchase a confection marketed as a 'negro-kiss'. They were also called negress titty (negerinnentiet). Thank god that is no longer the case! No one should have to associate brown mammaries with whipped egg whites, sugar, and chocolate!
Not even lactose intolerant people!

Well, it was the sixties. Which was not necessarily a kinder, gentler age. Just very different from the modern world, and a lot more crazy.
We no longer have negerkussen or negerinnentetten. That's all gone.
Zwarte Piet, however, is still frightening the bejazus out of children. Except that there are now more of him. Saint Nicholas used to have one helper, two at most, now there are often over half a dozen.
And, disturbingly, many of them are male.
I don't know about you, but the idea of a strapping young damsel about to birch kiddies is far more comforting than a strange adult man in disguise doing so. Admittedly the whole idea is berserk -- fake black men from Iberia in drag whupping arses and then handing out candies, on behalf of a demented priest -- but heck, any old excuse for a bit of insanity around the cold part of the year is gladly accepted.

Here in the United States, we've got a grossly overweight red-faced pervert (drinking problem? Rosacea? Venereal-disease rashes?) that wants you to sit on his lap, or else you won't get any presents -- whose off-shore tax dodging sweatshop employs height-deficient people at probably starvation wages -- in Holland they have whippings, chocolate, and marzipan.
It seems far less depraved.

But still. Black face. Shiny dark skin. A foreign bogeyman.


AS BLACK AS SOOT

Originally, Black Pete was an enslaved troll, devil, or daemon, who accompanied Wotan around at midwinter. The candies and gifts were always there, as was the threat of punishment and kidnapping.

It wasn't until after the Eighty Years War, during which the Spanish tried to exterminate the Dutch, that both the good cop and the bad cop acquired Iberian characteristics. You can fear the Spanish bastards, but sometimes you can also get nice things from them. The good cop in this equation is actually a fictionalized transplant from Asia Minor, the bad cop is either a Mauritanian or a Berber, and possibly speaks Arabic in addition to bugga bugga boo.

Neither one of them is a real Spaniard. The real Spaniards are still evil depraved sons-of-bitches, whose galleons must be sunk whenever and wherever encountered. Subhuman bastards.

Saint Nicholas and Black Pete are denatured Spaniards.

Sort of like muppets and fairies.

Imaginary.


That may change. Conceivably the Spanish might be upset to find out that they are the bad men in this tale. They're part of the Eurozone, we shouldn't despise them too much. The crats in Brussels would object.
And given that they're broke, no sugar anymore.
Spaniards with candy; so last century!

Black Pete may have to revert back to being a shackled devil, and the good guy could again become the mythic Greek holy man who protects travellers, especially sailors. In a sea-faring nation such as the Netherlands, naturally a numinous entity like that would still be venerated.
An evil Spanish bully, not so much.

In fact, Black Pete is many things, not just a sadistic torturer of little children. He is the fool, the wise guy, the amanuensis, the source of candy, the capable assistant, and the provocateur. He is also the diplomat who intercedes, as well as the able faker whose whippings seem more impressive to the observer than painful to the victim.

But conceivably the black facial goo should go.

Perhaps just a teenage girl in mediaeval drag. Which, underneath the curly frightwig and sootcake make-up, was usually the case. Teenage girls can be quite terrifying, even and especially to older boys. She's perfect.
I'm thinking tight bodices, and similar fetching garb.
Discreet eyeshadow, temptress lipstick.
Stiletto pumps, six inch heels.

We do, however, need a third type to play the role of villain. Someone who can be made fun of, despised, feared, and hated.


I would suggest a woman in a flaming red muumuu and ridiculously oversized crimson toque.

'Old Red-Eyes'

Fool, dunce, irritant, hectoring bore, poseur, shrill harpy, object of derision, smarmy, opinionated, and wrong about many things. A ranting loony, the frightening foreigner, and a terrifying spectacle. Both the costume and concept are already there, all it takes is a talented volunteer.
But fercrapsakes, no skin-paint.
A funkadelic accent, okay.
La Cucuya. Fareentje.
Une Ton-Tonette.

Let us even up the ante a bit. A cannibalistic shape-shifter, who will leave her innocent victims deaf, dumb, and blind, with a menacing wolf's growl.
I believe there already is such a thing in Netherlandic folklore, and we might as well co-opt it.




SAINT NICK, 'SWEETY PETE', AND AN OGRE

Traditions change. Nothing today is quite the same as it once was, and even our folklore must adapt. Sometimes there are elements there which because of familiarity, fondness, and proximity, we might not realize are offensive or absurd. We are too close for perspective.

I am grateful for Ms. Verene Shepherd for pointing out that we Dutch speakers are a bunch of cretinous retrograde racists, and demanding that we adjust to the modern age. Without her strident whining, we never would have understood that.




==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================

UNITED NATIONS IRRELEVANCE, NAY, PANDERING TO THIRD WORLD BIAS: OBJECTING TO SAINT NICK

In the latest storm in a teacup, a functionary of the United Nations has decided that the Dutch had better permanently cancel an annual celebration, because she does not like it.

Professor Verene Shepherd, member of the United Nations Working Group of Experts on People of African Descent, recommended that Dutch Prime Minister Mark Rutte forbid forever the celebration of Saint Nicholas Day on December sixth, because it is, in her expert opinion, a return to slavery.

As a black woman, and a Jamaican, she is offended.


One can understand why. She is incredibly sensitive and in a permanent state of dudgeon. Naturally she would be upset.

Prof. Shepherd is editor/compiler of Women in Caribbean History, co-editor of Engendering History: Caribbean Women in Historical Perspective (with Barbara Bailey and Bridget Brereton) and editor of Engendering Caribbean History: Cross-Cultural Perspectives (forthcoming, 2010). Among her other publications are Livestock, Sugar & Slavery: Contested Terrain in Colonial Jamaica (2009), I Want to Disturb My Neighbour: Lectures on Slavery, Emancipation and Post-Colonial Jamaica (2007) and Maharani’s Misery: Narratives of a Passage from India to the Caribbean (2002).[*]

A previous foray by the respected professor saw her demanding that England, France, and the Netherlands pay reparations for slavery to several Caribbean nations. Which is an idea that only makes sense if they take those funds out of the budgets set aside for aid to developing countries, make a one-time payment, subsequently reduce diplomatic relations with such failed states to an interest section at best, and never send another cent that way again.

There is no logical, moral, or ethical reason why the tax-payers in those countries should be shafted because Caribbean nations have, in the generations since their independence, utterly failed to do anything worthwhile. Putting a financial burden on people who themselves are in the main descended from desperately poor disenfranchised victims of imperialism -- as the populations of Europe are, and as any student of history should know -- would be a grossly unfair and racist act. Arguing that because poor starving illiterate peasants and brutally exploited urban proletarians lived in countries which were involved in the colonial enterprise, their great-great-great grandchildren should now be robbed, for the benefit of corrupt politicians who may or may not be great-great-great grandchildren of people who were equally starving, illiterate, and exploited.........

Well now.

Let me tell you what you can do with your Blue Mountain Coffee.
As well as ganja, murder capital of the Caribbean [*], and ska.



But let us return to the folkloric event which got her professorial and United Nations knickers bunched in a wedgie.

Saint Nicholas Day.


HET SINTERKLAAS FEEST

During the night of December fifth, Saint Nicholas (Sinterklaas) rides over the rooftops on his white steed, with his servants, and descends down the chimneys to leave presents and candy for little children. Which they happily discover the next morning.

But NOT the kids who have been irredeemably naughty. Those were stuffed in a burlap sack, to be taken away to Spain, where they will be tortured by the Spanish and put to work as slaves on the galleys.

Half a month before this wondrous abduction of the little monsters, the good holy man arrived on a steam boat in Amsterdam harbour, where he and the joyous entourage were welcomed by the city fathers.

In the period leading up to his feast-day on December sixth, he and his servants made appearances at numerous parties and charity events, where children obediently sang cheerful songs, and quivered apprehensively because he would sit in judgment over them.
Good little boys and girls got candy. Sometimes lots of candy.
Bad little boys and girls got a wild thrashing with a broom or bundle of birch twigs, administered clumsily but with enormous enthusiasm by one of the saint's servants.

They had better reform by the Fifth of December, or else!

Obviously the celebration has an element of moral instruction, and encouragement to the little savages to lead more upstanding lives. Which is salving to their parents, besides providing excitement, tension, and entertainment.
Very wholesome.

Except that the servants are in black face.
They are 'Black Pete'.


ZWARTE PIET

Usually the role of 'Black Pete' is played by teenage girls, with thick black face paint, red lips, and curly wigs. Dressed in mediaeval page costumes. Talking in gibberish, which is supposed to be some dialect of Spanish.

The back-story on the servants used to be that because the saint lives in Spain, the servants are Moors or Moriscos. One variant has Black Pete as an Ethiopian slave freed by the saint, who subsequently converted to Christianity and followed the holy man on his travels.
The more modern tale explains that it is the servants who go down chimneys, while the saint patiently waits above. That is why they are black; they are covered with soot.

Why chimney sweeps are dressed in Mediaeval garb is a mystery.
Embroidered doublet, poufy breeches, and dark hose.
Please don't ask. Probably union rules.

There are, in fact, older roots to the tale, in which the holy man is seen as a likely re-interpretation of Odin, and the servants are variously devils, trolls, or Odin's ravens.
A politicized event I once attended (unwillingly) turned them into the proletarian workforce making consumer goods all year long, and the saint into a reformed cleric who became party commissar.
There have also been purple Petes.

But what remains essential is the birch or willow implements used to administer remonstrance. Without the credible threat of punishment -- as well as the terrifying prospect of permanent servitude on Spanish galleys in the Mediterranean -- the event loses its rectificatory suasion.
Along with whatever entertainment value it has for grown-ups.

Black face. Pitch-hued and shiny.
And a curly fright wig.
Problem.


"The working group cannot understand why it is that people in The Netherlands cannot see that this is a throwback to slavery, and that in the twenty first century this practice should stop! My personal view is that in the twenty first century this should not be happening!"

-----Verene Shepherd
[Source: Telegraaf TV. In Dutch, except for her sound byte. Note both the newsreader, dressed as Black Pete, as well as the salt of the earth types giving their views on the matter. Then note further the ending bit, where an Iranian festive occasion (Nowruz) is shown featuring a buffoonish performer in black face (Hajji Firuz); an event which is registered on the UNESCO List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.
Because Persians cannot be bigots.]


You know, I am mighty surprised that the Catholic Church has not objected vociferously over this rancid stereotyping of its teachings and the role of its functionaries. An absolute cliché of a churchman, plus elements of clerical sadism, and the bribing of little children with sweeties so that they kiss-up to the prelate.

It's shocking, is what it is.

Remarkably, however, it was the Catholics who kept the tradition alive when the severe Calvinist church fathers in the north would have banned it for being a Papist feast, propaganda for the Evil Bishop of Rome, and heretical in the extreme.


I can remember being terrified as a five year old by the prospect of being taken back to Spain in a gunny sack. Spain was a horrid place, everyone knew that! And Spanish people were incredibly mean.
We Dutch-speakers have a history with Spain.
It is fundamental to our psyche.

Of course, by the time I was twelve I was marveling over the shapely legs of Zwarte Piet, as well as the evidence of curvature.
Mmmm, Black Pete has boobies!

I'll be the first to admit that questions may be asked about this charming little example of Northern European culture.
All folklore is dark. Some of it disturbing.

But Ms. Verene Shepherd should NOT interfere with our candy.

[Ms. Shepherd is not alone in her crusade. The signatories of the first letter of bellyache (dated January 17, 2013) are: Verene Shepherd, Chair-Rapporteur of the Working Group on people of African descent; Farida Shaheed, Special Rapporteur in the field of cultural rights; Izsàk Rita, Independent Expert on minority issues; Mutuma Ruteere, Special Rapporteur on contemporary forms of racism, racial discrimination, xenophobia and related intolerance.]


You know, I still find shapely teenage girls in theatric mediaeval garb and black face exciting. Good things are bound to happen with them around! And if there is a graduate of a British Public School present, there could even be a birching! He'll like that!
There may, in fact, be candy.
It will stop the weeping.
Candy is good.

Such things don't happen very often in my circles.

Lively lassies with candy, that is.



The traditional confectionary during the Saint Nicholas season consists of 'Pepernoten', 'Taai taai', marzipan, crisp gingerbread biscuits, tablet, and above all chocolates. Huge heaping mounds of chocolates.
The obedient little brat gets a large chocolate letter for the initial of his or her first name. The cretinous little sod, as previously mentioned, will be abducted by Spaniards.


Note: David Sedaris' lecture about Zwarte Piet is here: Live at Carnegie Hall.
He provides a complete how-to, more or less.
Informative and educational.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================

JUSTICE IS AN ANGRY BLACK MAN

Tradition is mighty fine.

It is traditional that every year on the Surinam Mailing List there is a screaming match of monumental proportions regarding the issue of Black Pete.

[The Surinam Mailing List is for people who have any interest in Surinam (formerly Dutch Guiana), many of whom are from there, or have some connection to the place and the people.]


Usually World War Three starts on the list right about now, and continues all the way through to Nittel Night. The rhetorical bombing runs and hate-mail missiles take out enemy cities, verbal napalm denudes entire provinces. The injured stumble from the battlefield of dialectic with wounds all bleeding and puss-y gangrenous, the mute cadavers of those who fell in word-war are spitefully carved up and mutilated. The hoarse rasping gasp of Shma-Yisroel or Our Fadder by a dying disputant can faintly be heard.
All of this entirely in a flood of furious letters, of course. A metaphor.


Stop scratching your head, I shall explain.


It relates to a fictionalized holy man (Sinterklaas, Saint Nicholas) whose holiday is celebrated in the Dutch-speaking part of the world on December 6th. or on the evening beforehand (Sinterklaas avond - Saint Nicholas eve, December 5th.).
In the middle of the night the fictionalized gentleman squeezes his portly middle-aged self down narrow chimneys to give presents and candies to good children, coal to mediocre children, and drag the truly awful ones back to Spain with him when he leaves.

Formerly the bishop of Smyrna, a millennium ago he retired to the Costa Del Sol - the European equivalent of Miami. Once a year he comes out of retirement, puts on his glad-rags, gets on his silver-grey horse, and goes to the Netherlands for a month.
For the children. Candies. Peppernuts. Marzipan. Playstations and Nike.


However, if you've been a particularly nasty little brat, you get something unpleasant instead.

A savage beating by six to eight black men.

You see, part of the story is that 'Sinterklaas' is accompanied by six to eight big butch black men wearing the type of poncy frou-frou costumes you've seen in Italian paintings. Individually and collectively they are called "Zwarte Piet" (Black Pete). They have no actual identities of their own, no individual names, they do not get to ride horses. They are mere retinue. And they are goon. They are not the sweet and gentle type of black man with which you are familiar.

A bad child will get fiercely birched within an inch of his life by one or more of these gentlemen, then dumped into a gunny-sack and dragged off to Spain, never to be seen again.


Traditionally, the six to eight big butch black men are impersonated by one to three white people (often young ladies), with crudely applied black-facepaint, wearing whatever gaudy big butch drag they find in the rag heap. They utter nasty foreign sounding boogabooga grunts and pidgin Dutch threats to scare the crap outta the little kids - especially the ones who haven't spent the previous month acting all goody two shoes, kissing up, singing cutesy songs about how happy they are to await the coming of the Saint (and his six to eight big butch black men), and dutifully putting out cookies for the Saint every night, and a carrot for his horse (but nothing for the retinue). They occasionally chase a brat, do a handstand or a cartwheel, or act colourful in some way.

Many Dutch people have not grasped the racism of this yet, as they remember the joy of the season that they felt as children, getting candies, toys, cake, marzipan, chocolate letters. And as adults, they want to recapture that joy, and pass it on to their kids. Fear, trauma, bribery, and payola - all combined into a cheery feast.

White folks in blackface.


You can no doubt understand why Surinamers in the Netherlands are "ambivalent" about this.

Yearly there is much venting about it on the list.

It is therefore with bated breath that I await the start of battle. All is quiet at the moment. But this cannot endure. Huge buckets of hate, of puss, of venom, are intrinsically part of the holiday tradition. And we must respect tradition.

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

About the title of this post:
Justice is usually pictured as a blind white woman, scantily dressed, holding a pan-scale. Absurd! Justice is not blind or white - Justice is actually a large black man, holding a bunch of birches. And boy, is he angry.

David Sedaris said so.


See: Live at Carnegie Hall.

Or rather, listen.

Further to that irritating holiday and the poison pen letter

The gentleman who sent the nasty screed (mentioned in the previous post) has apologized.

I have accepted his apology, as I know where it came from, and could read how upset he was over the issue between the lines of his angry letter.


I'm not going to take it personally, as A) we all have strange things floating underneath the surface, which while we're calm we would never say, but which pop out when we're furious, though later we're horrified that we said them; and B) everybody has the right to be screaming mad at times.


My main reason for posting about it on my blog is that I am full of awe for pent-up furious eloquence. I've always liked reading angry letters (to the editor, to theatre critics, to political pundits), and, as you may have surmised, I've written a few myself.


Sometimes I get tired of a calm, rational, even-keeled response. I really do like a bit of fury now and then, as it proves that the person is awake, alive, and capable of being deeply involved. And when I've caused that reaction in someone else, I am pleased as punch that they were listening - even if they may not have actually heard what I was trying to say.


I'm not going to identify the writer (I am now embarrassed that to some others I've already done so), and I would prefer the relevant mailing list be left ignorant about the exchange.

As Q from Boston said, it would only create unpleasantness.

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

Some excerpts from the correspondence below - Dutch bold and italic, translation regular type in square brackets underneath.

-----
"Sommigen geloven dat Zwarte Piet krenkend is en bestreden moet worden, velen hebben nog niet begrepen dat Zwarte Piet een problematisch geval is of zelfs zou kunnen zijn."
[Some believe that Black Peter is insulting and must be counter-acted, many have not yet grasped that Black Peter is or could even be a problematic issue.]
-----
"Men is nu eenmaal niet geneigd zijn eigen traditie en eigen geloven onder de loupe te nemen tenzij het absu moet, en men kan en mag dan zeker defensief reageren, alsook aan anders-zijde aanduwen en insisteren. Maar aan een gemeenschappelijke kultuur moet gesleuteld kunnen worden."
[One is not usually inclined to examine one's own traditions and beliefs unless it absolutely has to be done, and certainly one could and should be allowed to react defensively, as well as on the other side of the issue pushing and insisting. But it must be possible to make adjustments to a common culture.]
-----
"Hier in overzee zijn er gemeenschappen Nederlanders die elk jaar het Sinte-feest willen vieren, opdat hun kinderen tenminste een beetje vertrouwd raken met hun ouders land van herkomst. Ik verwacht niet van hun dat ze rap zo'n traditie zullen prullebakken. Dat moet, buiten het oude kontrei, wel ietsje langzamer."[There are Dutch communities over here which tend to celebrate Sinterklaas, so that their children can at least be familiar with their parents country of origin. I do not expect them to be in a hurry to trash-can a tradition. Outside of the old country, change naturally takes a slower pace.]

-----
"Het is niet zo lang geleden dat men vreemd keek wanneer iemand zei dat J--- waarschijnlijk niet een mooie blonde Noord-Europeansche uiterlijk had, maar eerder op Anwar ElSadat leek; short and dark. En tijdens de jeugd van onze grootouders zoud ge inmekaar geslagen kunnen worden zo ge zei dat J--- absoluut geen kristen maar een Jood was, of zelfs aan het kerst verhaal twijfelde."
[It isn't that long ago that people would react strangely if someone said that J--- probably didn't have a 'beautiful blond Northern-European appearance, but more likely resembled Anwar Es-Sadat: short and dark. And during the youth of our grandparents you could get the crap kicked out of you if you said that J--- certainly wasn't a christian but a Jew, or if you even doubted the christmas story.]
----------

Poison penmanship: Sinterklaas

Recently, on a mailing list that I have been a member of for the better part of the decade, a fight broke out over a Dutch holiday tradition. And of course I got into the thick of it.


The Holiday in question, Sinterklaas avond (Saint Nicholas eve, December 5th.), revolves around a fictionalized Saint Nicholas, who according to the story, travels to Holland each year, and gives presents and candies to good children, coal to mediocre children, and drags the truly awful ones back to Spain with him when he leaves again. Though he was the bishop of Smyrna (formerly Greek, now Turkish), he apparently retired to Spain. Costa Del Sol or something, which is probably the European equivalent of Florida.


Sometimes, however, if you've been a particularly bad little brat, a fate just a little more disturbing awaits you.

A good whupping by six to eight black men.

You see, part of the story is that 'Sinterklaas' is accompanied by six to eight well built black men, wearing the type of costumes you've seen in Italian renaissance paintings.

A bad child, so the story goes, will get whacked by one or more of these gentlemen, with switches and canes, then dumped into a gunny-sack and dragged off to Spain, never to be seen again.


Now, the problem is those six to eight black men, and here is where I ran afoul of some of my correspondents.

Traditionally, the six to eight black men would be impersonated by one to three white people (often young ladies, to boot), with crudely applied black-facepaint, wearing whatever butch drag mediaeval costume they could scrounge up. They would utter strange foreign sounding boogabooga grunts and pidgin Dutch threats to scare the crap outta the little kids - especially the ones who hadn't spent the previous month acting all goody two shoes, kissing up, singing cutesy songs about how happy they were to await the coming of the Saint (and his six to eight black men), and dutifully putting out cookies for the Saint every night, and a carrot for his horse (but nothing for the six to eight black men).

There is, by the way, no problem with the horse. The animal rights people have not focused on the horse yet, the horse is, so far, not a big deal.


But that thing with the six to eight black men (or, one to three white folk in black-face) has irritated the crap out of some folks. Rightly so. It panders to stereotypes, and tells little kids that they should fear black people.
It is, in many ways, a racist side to the tradition.


Many Dutch people have not grasped this yet, as they remember the joy of the season that they felt as children, getting candies, toys, cake, marzipan, chocolate letters. And as adults, they want to recapture that joy, and pass it on to their kids.

But again, part of the tradition is a bunch of white folks in blackface.
You can probably imagine why black people in the Netherlands are, at best, ambivalent about this.

---
---
---

Did I mention that the mailing list is for people interested in matters having to do with the former colony Dutch Guiana?

---
---
---

Every year, the Zwarte Piet (Black Peter, or Bogey Man) issue gets brought up on the mailing list. This year, discussion on the list turned heated, and I made the mistake of asking some of the writers to please be more polite, don't call each other names, stop cussing.
Because whatever point they may have had was getting lost in the melee.


In all the smoke, it may not have been readily apparent what side I was on.
[I wasn't on any side - personally, I think part of the tradition needs changing, but change is neither easy nor fast. I believe face-painted football hooligans would be a better choice. Teach the little kids to be scared of drunken louts.]


So, off the list, I received a splendid example of hate mail. It is beautiful, vicious, venomous, and absolutely smoking! Too bad it is entirely in Dutch.

But, for your reading pleasure, some fragments with translation below (the other person's text is bold and italic; the regular typeface, within square brackets, is the translation.

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

"Heb jij je wel eens afgevraagd uit welk ras de verfoeiende sodom en gamorra praktijken stammen?"
[Have you ever asked yourself from which race the damnable Sodom and Gomorrah practices came?]

"Omdat jullie een aangeboren drang hebben je lusten bot te vieren op alles wat beweegt......elke ziekte waar het gros van jullie sterft is bij jullie begonnen."
[Because you folks have a genetic urge to expend your lusts on everything that moves......every disease which kills the most of you people has its origin among you people.]

"Is het een wonder dat jij het enige medicijn daarvoor dat jullie ooit uitvonden, het christendom, veracht?"
[Is it any wonder that you despise the only medicine that you guys ever invented, Christianity?]



Now this next passage just baffles the heck out of me, I can't make heads or tales of what he is trying to wish me:

"Ik wens je de nabijheid van de eerstvolgende aanslag op de misplaatste grote smoel die je denk te kunnen opzetten in een wereld die jij nog je soortgenoten bezitten."
[I wish you the proximity of the next-following strike on the misplaced big mouth that you think you can open in a world that neither you nor your kind own.]


I think it's a holiday greeting - I may print it up on some greeting cards and send it out this year.



Some other background: before receiving this mail I wrote that the accusation of bigotry, in my case, was certainly not incorrect. After all, I've slammed Europeans, Arabs, Republicans, Christian Fundamentalists, French people, leftwing socially conscious Dutchmen, and I have voiced my dislike of their idiotic and loony ideas.

Exact phraseology: "De beschuldiging van bigot is deels zeker accuraat in mijn geval - gij herinnert u zeker wel dat ik bijzonder vaak Europa, de Arabische wereld, Republiekijnen, Christen-fundamentalisten, Fransozen, Links-sociaal bewogen Nederlanders, en nog vele anderen verdoemd en verkettert heb omwille hun idiote dan wel geschifte opvattingen."

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

Getting stuff like this out in the open can have a purifying effect.

I certainly feel cleaner now.