Cogs can think.

Best Southpark joke ever (s06e05).

Check it out guys, I’m calf-curling.

I actually ‘like‘ curling (don’t worry, I like pick up trucks so it evens out).

You know that feeling, you’re lying on the couch after going to university and playing some squash, you’re closing your eyes, reality drifts off, your thoughts sizzle out, and you relax fully. The news is on TV, but it doesn’t really interest you. Until you hear these words. In one sentence.

Sex. Animals. Lower house. Debate. With.

Yes. Our lower house had a serious debate on whether or not to declare bestiality illegal. As I learned today, The Netherlands is the prime exporter of bestiality pornography, and that’s of course totally unacceptable (I’m for real here. People that get off on that nonsense should be put away in mental institutions). I mean, relaxed drug laws, legalised prostitution, gay marriage, that I can handle. But sex with animals? That was actually not illegal here? What the fcuk is wrong with this country? And they say the influence of Islam is a problem? While at the same time, people were allowed to have SEX WITH ANIMALS?

There is something very, very unnerving about seeing distinguished, Christian politicians speak about sex with animals. I’m SO not going to sleep tonight without a double dose of Temazepam.

May I note that I can see what Google query you used to get here. Remember that before you comment.

You may not know it, but even your hero, leader, and source of endless admiration (that would be me) draws his inspiration for this weblog from somewhere else. Regular readers will know - Dooce.com.

She won four ‘Bloggies’. ‘Bloggie’ is a word I would use to describe my state of mind last weekend after a litre of Martini, half a bottle of Amaretto, and some Malibu rum, but apparantly, it’s also a series of awards for bloggers. She won Best American Weblog, Best Designed Weblog, Weblog of the Year, and Lifetime Achievement Award. And she got my vote on all of them, which means I’m probably more average than I anticipated.

Or, Dooce is the only weblog I visit every day.

In any case, Heather, congratulations on the four Bloggies, and especially the life-time achievement thing is one you deserve more than anyone else. There are few (if any) out there that can take the most boring of daily things, the most mundane conversations, the most average objects, and turn them into something that puts a smile on my face, no matter if I’m already very content, or if I’m feeling down and out. Heck, you made me realise that one day, I’ll have a kid of my own.

And that kind of power is something to cherish. Please, continue to do what you do. Your weblog alone justifies the horrible concept of the bllllloaaaaaggggg.

Every so often, you realise just how lucky you are.

I spent the entire weekend (photos!) on a boat in the harbour of Groningen with some of my best friends. We drank (a lot), and the die hards played board and card games until 6 in the morning - obviously, I’m so totally a die hard. The first night, a few of us got pretty up, up, and away (Martini Bianco (my favourite), Disaronno Amaretto (another favourite of mine), Malibu (another favourite), vodka (don’t like that one), beer (I don’t do beer), and wine (I don’t do wine either)), and it showed. I’ve been told a few things I will keep for myself. For good reason.

The second night, the alcohol barely flowed, and I didn’t touch it at all. We played Risk until we dropped - a three hour game. The fun of Risk is that you can just feel the “love” in the room - people get more and more arrogant, possessive, and bloodthirsty as the game goes on. Which leads to the inevitable ‘tapping‘ - where you just tap on a territory you want to attack, while uttering something along the lines of “Die, and get the fcuk out.”

Lot and I made a pact - a gentleman’s agreement not to attack one another, and to help one another if needed. Not liked by the other players, but not against the rules. In the words of the evening, Lot’s pink Gaylord Empire (a.k.a. Hitler) made a deal with Thom’s green ‘Vegan Streaker Empire’ (a.k.a. Mussolini). Trust me - don’t ask. Really.

A few of us went to bed fairly early the second night, but Marco, Annemarie, Nadia, Lot, and I continued playing card games until 6 in the morning.

Sunday morning, we were all pretty much dead. I managed to use Lot’s camera to make a photo I really like - Lot resting on Annemarie’s shoulder.

The good thing about weekends like this is that it’s not all just lighthearted fun, drinking, and entertainment. It’s serious stuff too. I’ve had brilliant conversations and moments with Martin and Marco, out on the rainy deck, looking out over the water, and during the first evening, we discussed one of my more painful moments with regards to a certain girl I used to, uhm, like.

But the thing that surprised me most is that I discussed ‘my brothers’ with Lot, during a walk through Groningen in the middle of the night, after we snuck off the boat. I never discuss ‘my brothers’ with anyone except my parents and Renate. I guess Lot and I have a tendency to sneak away, even though we barely get to see each other, and we in fact don’t know each other all that well. We did exactly the same thing 2.5 years ago in La Roche - only there it resulted in something with a graveyard and putting ‘gl’ in front of everything.

All this just makes me realise how lucky and happy I really am to have such friends. I am tired, though.

Dude…

I’ll be away for the entire weekend starting noon tomorrow. I’ll be away with a group of my best friends.

The last few times we did this, it involved getting kicked off graveyards, carrying drunk people around the Belgian countryside, and spending the night in a pub opened specifically for us, with a projector showing porn.

Just so you know.

I love the Dutch media. Not because they’re the best in the world (because they’re most definitely not) and I’m proud of them for it (couldn’t resist) but because they fell on their ass so bad during the night.

You see, the Dutch media are quite obviously supporters of the Democrats. During the coverage of the primaries, the Democrats get all the attention, after which they quickly say something along the lines of “oh and yeah, McCain did this and that but all of you Dutch people shouldn’t give two shits”. Of course, I made the second part up, but you can almost hear them say it. Not that I’m in any way a Republican, but still, I expect impartiality.

The second problem is that they are also quite obviously supporters of Obama. Famous journalists, TV presenters, newspapers, other public figures: most of them are pro-Obama, and this shines through quite clearly during TV shows and in newspaper/magazine articles. Whenever they interview someone pro-Clinton, he or she has to defend himself. Whenever they interview someone pro-Obama, the journalists and media people go easy, and talk about how Obama makes celestial choirs sing (thanks for that one, Hillary).

Yesterday evening, they were all more or less certain Hillary would be out, over, and done with. She wouldn’t win Texas and Ohio, and you could see the twinkle in the media people’s eyes whenever they talked about it. Obama would win, and right from then on, roses, lilies, and marshmallows would sprout all over the United States. Suddenly, there’d be no more poverty, crappy unaffordable healthcare, and hate towards the US.

Until Clinton won Ohio. And Texas. And Rhode Island. And despite her not being any closer to winning the nomination than last night, she did win them. And gone is the twinkle. The battle is still on, and I’m sure that we’ll see Clinton win the primaries after all.

Let’s hope the Dutch media can start reporting on the whole thing with more objectivity now. Obama will be a good president, but he ain’t the 2nd coming of Christ. It’s time the Dutch media realised this too. The honeymoon’s over.

Björk ftw. Seriously. During a performance in Shanghai in China, she shouted “Tibet! Tibet!” a couple of times while performing the frantic and utterly crazy “Declare Independence“. The Chinese could not handle this; they left the hall, and millions of Chinese are now all offended. The state media (as if there are any independent media in China) are ignoring the incident.

Thank you Björk. You have the guts to do what most here in the west do not dare to do: go into the lion’s den, and say it like it is.

“Declare Independence” has almost become my ‘motto’ - every people has the right to belong, to govern themselves in a way they deem fit, to protect their sovereignty, to declare independence. I fully support the people of Kosovo, the people of Schotland, the people of Tibet, and so on. This world will be a better place if people and cultures get the freedom and breathing room to develop themselves, to make their own decisions, while working together for the greater, common good under organisations like the EU and NATO. There’s no need for a global, bureacratic megagovernment in order to create world peace - all it takes is to give cultures independence and sovereignty on a local level, while working together closely on a global level.

It has worked pretty darn well in Europe. Except for the fact that the EU has invaded the local level a tad bit too much.

Three different stories, three different girls.

I ran into The Goth Girl again today. She was a lot less ‘goth’ this time, and it showed - without her prettiness obscured by weirdness, it was hard for me to keep my eyes off her. And before anyone gets their knickers in a twist again, she, just like everyone else, is free to wear whatever she wants, and look whichever way she wants. Similarly, I am free to voice my opinion on the way people dress and present themselves. The knife cuts both ways, you know.

What’s interesting is that her goth image may actually be her port wine stain. To quote myself, “I guess sometimes it takes an [perceived] imperfection to notice perfection. Which, somehow, I find a very comforting thought.”

I emailed Amy Walker a few days ago (after my blog post), complementing her with her material, and some other chit-chatter. Yesterday eve, I received a very kind reply; she thanked me for my kind and thoughtful words, and some other chit-chatter. This is really one of the great things about the internet; the ease with which you can get into touch with people, people who you admire or want to send a encouraging note to. I felt all warm and fuzzy inside (it is the little things that put the icing on my days’ cakes). I guess I’ll reply tonight.

And, most importantly, I basically spent my entire Sunday with Renate, which is always a good and wise thing to do. We did some shopping in Alkmaar, watched a film in the evening, and had some really good talks (as always). After bringing her home, I realised I still had an assignment to do for today… And it was 02:00. I don’t think I’ve ever worked on university stuff that late.

Anyway, three different stories, three different girls. In order of importance from least, to absolutely-utterly-without-a-doubt most.