Live

Yesterday I went to see Ben Folds in the Paradiso. Great hall, great guy and a great show. Although I´m not a huge fan of his recent solo work, he played them very well and he threw in a bunch of Ben Folds Five (the band he used to be in, there were only three members... get it?) songs which rocked. I´m bored now so I decided to list the shows I´ve been to, not sure if this is all but I´ve come up with the following:

Zucchero (7 times)
B.B. King (2)
Bruce Springsteen (2)
Solomon Burke (2)
John Fogerty (2)
Joe Cocker (2)
Acda & de Munnik (2)
Ryan Adams (1)
David Gray (1)
Eric Clapton (1)
Ben Lee (1)
Joe Bonamassa (1)
and now Ben Folds (1)

EDIT:

If we count support acts also:

Keb Mo (1), Joe Bonamassa (2), Ralph McTell (1), Clem Snide (1), Robert Randolph & the Family (1)

Elephant

Last monday night I received a text message from a friend of mine that read:

"I rode an elephant today!"

Normally this would be either worrying or confusing (or both) but in this case this specific friend is on a vacation to Thailand, which apparently is a country where elephants are a normal means of transportation.

As most of my friends now, me and nature do not co-exist all too pleasantly: I scream like a girl when bugs or spiders appear in my bathroom, I do not enjoy getting my hands dirty and the next time I see a meerkoet with a limp wing I'll walk the other way. But like I do with dogs and cats, I just have a thing for elephants.

The reason for that, is that elephants remind me of human beings. Their memory is absolutely amazing. For example if I leave my parents place and return an hour later, my dog is excited. If I leave my parents house and return two weeks later, my dog is just as excited. I don't know if elephants have a sense of time, but if I go to an elephant and give her an apple, then return a year later she will use her nose to frisk you for apples; that's smart! But even more so, elephants remind me of my mom.

Not because she looks like an elephant of course, a) she doesn't and b) she'd have me killed for saying that.

This realization started during my visit to Kenya last year. During a one day safari we made through one of the reservations, we saw several wonderful animals including a bunch of elephants. Those elephants can be tricky to find (they hide in the bushes most of the time) but we managed to see a few throughout the day.

Then, just when we were off to leave the park, a baby elephant crossed the road behind us. While me, the son of my dad's collegue and my dad all stood in amazement (and yes, I did go "Aaaaww!", stop judging me!), the driver of the truck started speeding away towards the gates (think Jurassic Park). He later told us that he did not so much hate baby elephants, he was just afraid of the mother elephant that had to be walking around there somewhere too.

Although elephants are generally not too violent (just clumsy, big and heavy - you do the math), mother elephants are absolutely lethal: they have the same way of dealing with the world my mom had when I was little: "Don't touch my kid. Touch my kid, and you die".

See, just like an elephant.

Nucking Futs

It's too early in the new year to post anything coherent (aside from the obligated "My upstairs neighbor was sent by Satan") so instead a nice video on the past year from the good people at Jib Jab.

Merry Christmas everybody!

As always!

To my Christian and more traditional friends:

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

To my Jewish friends:

MERRY CHANUKAH!

To my Atheist friends:

MERRY NON-RELIGIOUS FAMILY GATHERING!

and to those bastards at FOX news:

Fuck you.

Oy (A Personal Service Announcement)

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!).

The Wicked Update

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).

The Wicked Witch

(ahum)

Ding dong!

The Witch is Dead.

Which old Witch? The Wicked Witch!

The Wicked Witch is Dead!

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!

Let them know The Wicked Witch is dead!

Solomon Burke

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).