You know how you can feel on monday morning? Ok, hold that thought.
You know how you can feel on friday afternoon? Excellent, hold that one, too.
Now, throw those two together, double it, add sprinkles and whipped cream, put a car sticker on it with some silly word play, stick a big Jamaican flag through the window, and throw in that guy who kept yelling "ELTON! ELTON!" and that would be a fair representatio of how I feel right now (and worst of all, it's tuesday).
I'm supposed to write a short article on what I did during my three months here at the institute, but I can't concentrate. I'm also supposed to work feverishly on my chapter on Franklin Delano Roosevelt's 1932 road to the presidential nomination, but I can't concentrate on that either. Its just tired times 23.
I dunno why really, maybe too many 2.5 hour train trips the past three months. Or too much construction work in the building (and I use the term losely) I (try to) live in here. Or too much writing on my thesis (go team!). Or maybe it's the realization that aside from some close friends and family, an utterly insane psychopatic German woman (who I hate, loathe and despise) will be present at the Zucchero concert I will be attending next year (she is obssessed to the level that those who believe I am annoying almost need to meet her... and NO, I do not hate all Germans, I hate this German). Anyway, as the philosopher "bandmember from the Barenaked Ladies who wrote 'Falling for the first time'" would say: I'm so done / just turn me over.
Thankfully, it is almost Christmas, which is a period I like for it's calmness, the food and the occasional present (which is going to be limited this year, but I guess Calvinism among heathens has its purpose too), so I should be good by then. Rejoice! But then obviously the Jamaican carsticker whippedcream mofrinday aftening feeling will return with the coming up of new years eve and the utter nothingness in my agenda for that night... (screw everybody!).
A small update on my previous post; after a day of delibirating the Dutch cabinet has decided to strip the below mentioned "minister" from her main job (being unhumanely to people and kick them out the country) and replace that with looking after annoying 12 year olds with a drinking and anger problem.
So, technically she is not as politically dead as I was celebrating in my post below, but her decision to stay in the cabinet despite being degraded and have her policies be turned around by the attorney general (who took over the above mentioned job) have now changed her nickname from "Iron Rita" (I kid you not) to "Rubber Rita" (I kid you neither).
You may ask yourself, "why is Boris singing?". You may also ask yourself, "why is Boris singing a song from The Wizard of Oz? Can he get more gay?". Concerning that second question; f#ck you. Concerning that first question, I shall explain.
Yesterday evening Dutch parliament practically send home Rita Verdonk, the minister in charge of "everything-concerning-foreign-people-in-this-country". The woman (and I use the term loosely) has been an absolute disgrace since the moment she first entered Dutch politics. Her previous job was running a prison, and from that experience she's been left with the charm and human emotions usually reserved to rocks.
After a detention center near the Amsterdam airport burned to the ground and left three illegal immigrants waiting for deportion dead, Mrs. Verdonk was the first to announce that everybody had worked "adequately" and that her department would look after the traumatized survivors. Later investigation would prove that 1) everything was most definetly not adequate and 2) the survivors were transported from one prison to another, strip searched and dumped in jail cells without any kind of psycholigical or even physical support.
Among her latest greatest hits was an episode where a Chinese women and her toddler son were imprisoned. The woman was scheduled to be deported and was given the sensitive choice of taking her son with her to jail, or let him stay with a foster family unknown to her, she choose the first option. Supporters of Mrs. Verdonk like to point out that it was the woman's own choice, but anyone with any sense or heart would know that you can not realistically expect a parent to chose between those two evils and the entire idea of a society considering the choice of putting todlers in jail is disgusting.
So please forgive my merryness but after three years of absolute insanity I can not help but sing, loudly, proudly and happily:
Ding Dong' the merry-oh, sing it high, sing it low!
As you may or may not know, Solomon Burke is the self proclaimed King of Rock & Soul. He's also a bishop and has eleven children, but that is not in any way unbishopy. Although most people don't know him very well, he is the kind of musician that you just got to love especially the album "Don't give up on me" which meant his comeback to the limelight.
His most recent album is called "Nashville" because (unsurprisingly) it's country. And it's good! Not as good as "Don't give up on me", but still very good. The below is a videoclip of one of the tracks (although not the best... but still good).
It's been a while since my last letter and a lot has changed since then. Unfortunately, nothing concerning your facial hair... honestly John, did you even read the thing?
It was a bit of a dissapointment to hear that you decided to resign as U.S. embassador to the United Nations. After all, I do - in one way or another - consider myself to be your mentor. Obviously not a proud mentor, more one of those mentors who look around apoligetic and say "I know, I know, he just won't listen" to people. Actually, I think you didn't even use the chocolate chip cookies suggestion (and that hurts, buddy).
Anyway, it was clear after the Democrats won the mid-term elections last November that your UN days would be over. Considering that the Senate would not even confirm you in 2005, aka the days that Republicans were still in charge, after the Democrats won so much, politically you were as dead as your hair.
But what about your future plans? I have no idea how old you are and chopping you down to count your inner rings seems crude (I joke obviously, all we need to do is check the length of your nose hairs) but it seems to me you still have some time to go before you'll draw your last conservative breath. Normally, former U.S. politicians write a few books, or go on a speeking tour, but let's be fair my friend: who would pay to see you explain why you were a good UN ambassador?
But fear not, as usual I have the sollution.
Despite my campaign to get Bruce Springsteen, Jerry Falwell and you to assasinate Michael Bolton, he is still alive and kicking. Although this is of course a dissapointment of sorts (cookies, hair, Michael Bolton... the list of your failures is getting awfully long), I think it is also an opportunity for you.
Yes indeed: Michael Bolton and John Bolton on tour!
It's perfect! You both have weird hair, I can't stand either of you (dissapointed mentor mode) and the idea is just freaky enough it'll grab enough people's attention. You can end your active carreer as the freak show you unknowingly always were. All I ask is 15% of the net income of the tour.
People end up on this blog for many different reasons. Some because they are friends of mine in real life, some because they are friends of mine in cyberspace and some because they are stalking me and send me emails requesting me to send them my used tissues.
But a much larger group ends up here by searching for terms in google. Most of them look for concerts (Zucchero for instance is performing in Amsterdam in the Heineken Music Hall on May 28, 2007. Tickets can be purchased through this site), some look for lyrics or an explanation of those lyrics (those people tend to leave bitterly dissapointed I guess). I'm cool with all of that obviously.
But, for some reason, lately I have had some visitors who ended up on my page googling "dutch hate germans" and "I hate germans" (these Germaphobes end up on my blog because of a joke I put in an earlier post on how I don't like a certain type of blonde women). Although I believe most people realize that it is a joke, I sense that this might come back to haunt me during my professional future so therefore:
I do not hate Germans. I believe they, like every other people on the planet, have their annoying aspects (in this specific case schlager music and the tedency to invade Poland) but that in no way whatsoever implies me having anything but deep respect for my neighbors (aside from the Poland thing... and the holocaust thing.... and the James Last thing... I'm digressing).
I was born down in a dead man's town and the first kick I took was when I hit the ground. Basically you just end up like a dog that's been beat too much till you spent half your life covering up............ or maybe that wasn't my life but a song.......... where am I?