The Vatican and the Epilepticus
Rome, 30th October 2010.
It's an insult too the beauty of Rome to travel this city by way of underground. Every spade the Romans put in the ground leads to archeological dreams and hopeless delays in construction. So it's not hard to imagine why the city only has two subway lines a-side from her romantic allure. Having spend days on our feet exploring the marvelous open air museum that Rome is, we decided it was time to put courtesy a-side. Our feet simply protested to the long hike that lay between our hostel and the Vatican. Line A from Termini to Ottaviano became our salvation. Or so we thought. Crammed in to the metro carts, all 100.000 tourists that visit Rome each day, seemed to have followed our example. Rome's subway system however, was never intended to transport more then one thousand people at the same time. We were so tightly stacked together that a fresco-fetishist, aroused by the idea of the Vatican, could have truly meant we're fucked.
Fortunately enough we escaped the metro with our honor intact. The pleasant autumn sun greets us as we submerge from our ride through the belly of ancient history. Because it's out of season we only have to wait a short period of time inline for the Vatican museum. Compared to the Taj Mahal, the Ayia Sophia or even Saint Paul's Cathedral, the riches of the Vatican and the way the Roman Catholic Church displays them are mind blowing. Raising your head, to awe at the ceilings, for a prolonged time takes some afford. The repeated sights of the winged little naked baby angels, easily confused with Cupid, sheds a different light on as too why priest so easily erect when they handle little children... Every square centimeter is covert with detailed paintings, fresco's or ornaments. The Baroque stimuli are intense. Any moment I expected someone to fall to the floor in an epileptic seizure. Overwhelmed by all this Baroque and Renaissance, I decided to spare my energy to soak in Michelangelo's Sistene Chapel. And it did not disappoint. The Saint Peter Cathedral is next on tour in Ratzinger's backyard. It dwarfed everyone inside, the amazing size and hight of the marble temple explains why there is no marble left on sights like the Forum Romana or Coliseum or the Circus Maximus or any other really really old place.. Vatican City, which became a state on it's own again in 1929 by grace of
Benito Mussolini, is made entirely of 'recycled' marble. The wealth of the Vatican in art, real estate, gold, marble, influence and history have never been more tangible to me then now, and still they tell me the Vatican ran a deficit economy the last couple of years. On the bright side Rome has 100.000 tourists a day.. and when in Rome... one most see the Vatican.. if not to gaze at (it's) history then just to rule out epilepsy.
The Dutch defender for Freedom.
You got to hand it too the man, he does keep us busy. Geert Wilders, the self proclaimed dutch defender for freedom (of speech) is all that stands between dutch society and Muslim totalitarianism, or so he will have us believe. A Tsunami of Islam is pounding against Hollands sea and land borders, eagerly plotting to turn the lowlands in to a sharia based Caliphate. Modesty most be one of the many virtues of mr. Wilders because if you listen carefully to the man, he is not only battling Islamic censorship in the public debate, he will redeem Holland from all Islamic imposed influences. It's not only our freedom of speech he's defending, it is our very way of life he aims to protect and preserve. To do so, Muslims most be banned from Holland, even Europe. The Holy Quran should be forbidden and Islam as a religion should be abolished. And Mr. Wilders is just the man to do it, Holland's very on 21ste century crusader.
The reason why this blog is in english is simpel, Mr. Wilders has taken his plea for freedom across the border, appearing on Al Jazeera, attending numerous speeches in the U.S. and elsewhere to seek assistance in his epic battle to relief the Dutch from the forces of Islamic evildoers. In the U.S. and Israel he has captured an enthusiastic financial audience to sponsor his quest for liberty. The magnitude of this foreign financial aid to his movement remains undisclosed. The identity of his benefactors, corporate or persona, are also to remain anonymous for the public by order of mr. Wilders himself. But that's okay, Mr. Wilders claims to pioneer the freedom of speech, not the transparency of government and leadership. Although he does criticize existing leadership for closed door politics and back room antics...
We should gladly forgive Mr. Wilders this omission if he delivers us from the evil that is Islam and the perils it brings to our existence according to him.
So where did it go so terrible wrong in Holland?
Compartmentalization (verzuiling) gave the complete society a sense of identity. Based on various Christian denominations and political color, dutch society was living apart together. Protestants, Roman Catholics and socialists had their own unions, churches, political parties shops and even personnel. The tension between these groups was balanced by thin collaborations of the parties governing them. In the 1950's through out the 1960's the compartmentalization eroded under pressure of the growing individualism that came with modern day capitalism and wealth. A little later the first wave of immigration laborers from Portugal, Spain, Italy, Morocco and Turkey came to participate in unpopular labor otherwise unfulfilled by the Dutch. In the aftermath of the decompartmentalization, the sense of group identity among the Dutch was blurred by the growth of luxury and the increasing standard of life. By the late 1970's early 1980's a society had matured in which the Dutch could pursue individual materialistic wealth regardless of religious or political conviction. Holland had a renowned social security system and education was accessible and available for every denomination.
Parents that grew up in the compartmentalization could place their children on protestant, catholic or public schools. Immigrant children from Muslim parents could also attend Islamic primary schools if they chose so, dutch law granted acces to education for any religious conviction as well as public education. The majority of Muslim immigrants however, placed their children on public schools.
throughout the eighties en nineties, economic recession and progression succeeded each other. The Immigrant labor forces made good money in comparison to what they could have made in their home country, but were uneducated and ill prepared for the changes in Holland's society. Education and knowledge played an increasingly larger role in the labor market. Labor intensive employment would be outsourced. The position of Moroccan and Turkish youth was, like most ethnic minorities, more hopeless education wise then those of native origin. Integration and language problems of the first generation labor immigrants became more tangible. At the same time the renowned system of social security in Holland took beating after beating, in the form of budget cuts during recessions. The native Dutch now found themselves battling for employment with former immigrants. Where the social service used to be a way to stay out of poverty, it now became a guarantee to remain in poverty. (Granted this poverty by Dutch standards does not in anyway resemble poverty know elsewhere in the world.) Immigrants had been housed accordingly to their capacity to generate income, creating Moroccan and Turkish enclaves in low cost areas concentrated predominantly around Hollands larger cities. In the early nineties xenophobia got a new impulse when Holland chose an increscently right approach on asylum seekers. In politics and the media asylum seekers were portrayed as economic refugees, seeking our country in great numbers. At the same time ignoring the fact that most refugees did not get a final permit of admittance, got denied a legal stay all together, or only had a temporary visa. The image arose that Holland was full, saturated with immigrants. Refugees that did get a permit, mostly went to the larger cities in the west as well. Because of the Dutch governments unwillingness to infest in spreading minorities amongst the ethnic majority. Amsterdam, The Hague, Rotterdam and other cities now had an ethnic over representation. Labor immigrants, refugees and minorities from our colonial past sometimes outnumbered the dutch in certain areas. As aside effect of these concentrations, schools would become predominantly colored or white, depending on their location and educational level. Without fully realizing it, dutch society had a new form of compartmentalization. Socialists, Liberals, Christians and foreigners of which a part were Muslim. And although Muslims paid and built their own mosques and only a small part of them went to Islamic schools, there is no political representation and they are strongly divided amongst themselves. From the 16 million inhabitants, a merely 800.000 are estimated to be Muslim, Soeni or Shi'a, secular or orthodox.
On the 6th of may 2002 Pim Fortuyn, an up and coming populist, was shot dead by fanatic environmentalist. Mr. Fortuyn gathered a lot of support in a small space of time, criticizing the existing political parties. With no actual solutions and a lot of unconstitutional proposals from his side, the political elite had no proper answer to this new form of populism. Mr. Fortuyn had already sharpened the edges of the immigration debate, blaming Islam for obstructing integration into dutch society. In the wake of his spirit, the dutch lost their composure. The political establishment, that had shifted more and more to the right in the last few years, was blamed for his death. They had called Mr. Fortuyn a menace (which he was) for dutch credibility. Dutch socialists had been labeled as 'the left Church' by Mr. Fortuyn and their verbal defence to this now somehow made them an accomplish in this death. That Fortuyn was murdered by a deranged woodward, didn't stop the nation to plunge into indignant grief. On the 15th of may 2002 Pim Fortuyn was elected, post mortum, with 26 out of the 150 seats in dutch parliament.
2 years later, on the second of November 2004 Theo van Gogh was murdered. The dutch filmmaker and columnist was murdered by an Islamic extremist. Now the dutch really lost their minds. The public grief and debate that spiraled from his murder, was poorly handled by the established dutch politicians. But new, right winged politicians quickly rose too the occasion. One of them, was Mr. Wilders.
Mr. Wilders has his family roots in colonial Indonesia, where his grandfather married a woman from a dutch Indonesian family with a jewish background. Before Holland had to cease her occupation of the Archipelago, under U.S. pressure, his grandfather was dismissed from military service. Broke and disillusioned he retreaded back to Holland. Without luxury and labeled as outsiders, they led a bitter existence. Indonesia was now an Islamic republic and the Holland they had served did not meet expectations. Perhaps this fueled his anti Islamic sentiment, or his drive for a Dutch identity, as is not uncommon in such families.
After his high school period, the adolescent Wilders went to a kibbutz for 2 years. He has returned to Israel many times since. He started his political career for the VVD (Folk party for Freedom and Democracy) as a speech writer for Frits Bolkenstein a prominent member at the far right of this party. A dispute within the VVD, in which mr Wilders found the party wasn't harsh enough towards the possibilities of Turkeys future EUmembership, led him to leave the party. Knowing what awesome support Fortuyn rallied up with strong rhetorics, he started his own party.
With his Aryan blond dye he gathered up a posse that could find a creative way to blame Islam for virtually everything. Learning from the trial and errors of Fortuyn, he stayed away from the public debate. Until today only monologue, not dialog, have spawned from the mouth of a man who claims to advocate the freedom of speech. To ensure a broad electorate Mr. Wilders said farewell to all the political protocols of the established parties and attacked them with criticism on every point. The media loved it. Every where Geert Wilders turned up, every discourteous remark and every statement he made got air time in all media. Every criticism on his behalf by media or politics was dismissed as an attempt of character assassination and demonization of his person. This was exactly the rod that had cost politicians a great deal of votes after the Fortuyn murder, causing caution and apologies from his opponents. The Freedom Party (PVV) quickly started to oppose her own name.
the holy Quran should be forbidden, mosques should be forbidden, Nikab, sex segregated swimming, halal slaughter.., forbidden. Everything wrong in the world had Islamic roots, traffic jams, Chernobyl, criminality... just name it. These claims were supported by exaggerating Dutch identity, we dutch suddenly had a Christian Jewish based society, endangered by Islam. Although implausible other politicians and the media hardly protested this. Historically our churches are turning gray and empty, and nowhere else had the Germans been more accommodated in their raids for Jews (well accept maybe for Italy and Austria). Since the early days of Protestantism, antisemitism had been part of Dutch culture. This didn't stop until after the WWII. To confuse his electorate even more and sell his message wider, he claimed to have nothing against Muslims, only against Islam. Apparently a great deal of voters are able to follow this logic. But if I try to explain to a Jew that I am not antisemitic, I just want to eradicate Judaism, I am punishable by law...
This is exactly why Mr Wilders was sued for incitement of hatred and discrimination. On numerous occasions, in interviews, press releases and articles, Mr Wilders has spoken his abominations outside the parliament walls. Under dutch law, he can not be sued for comments inside congress. So we all ready have absolute freedom of speech. Mr Wilders has sued several organisations, rappers and persons for incitement of hate against him. He has commented on legal rulings and the position of judges in his criticism on (Islamic) foreigners and cases where he felt wronged. But on January the 20th he stated his trail was a political one... Where he would scream for more severe punishment from our legal system, he now compared the courthouse to North Korea and the Gulag.
Knowing he can only gain popularity from this trail, Mr Wilders gained financial support in the U.S. Apart from the fact that these funders of hate are running a morally abject show, they might get more then they bargained for. Outside the courtroom in Amsterdam, a large international crowd of Wilders followers had gathered. Amongst them a great deal of known neo Nazis, infamous for there hatred of everything none Caucasian, including Jews. How Mr. Wilders and his financial backers can integrate this with their believes? Perhaps you have to be a little schizofrenic to be a megalomaniac. They say Hitler was...
The sad thing is that Wilders can only win, no matter what the out come of this trail. As a martyr for freedom of speech or as wrongfully persecuted politician... Forza Italia,
Front National, none of them have grown so easily as Wilders and his PVV. Not something to be proud of as Dutchmen.
As a socialworker, I am engaged with the bottom of dutch society. And I can surely see a difference in every day society all ready. Moderate Muslims are cornered and the Dutch seem to find problems with Islam that never had been there before. Mr. Wilders started by claiming he was a democrat in every pore of his body, then he merely claimed to defend the freedom of speech. Now he calls himself a freedom fighter. I just hope history will not have to call him the Hitler of the 21ste century.
Barcelona October 29th,2009
The Catholic Church meets Cristal Meth.., that was my first impression when I laid eyes on the monstrosity that spawned from Gaudi’s brain. I fully understand why the Vatican or the Zapatero administration do not want to pay for the construction for what seems to be the gateway too hell. A closer look inside, for which I paid an €11 entrée fee making me an accomplice in this blasphemy, did not change my mind…
“Compadre, caminando tres minutas,luego a la izquierda y te pierdes turísticos dumbass. Ese será € 24”. All I understood from this was caminando tres minutas, which means walk for 3 minutes, not the words I want to hear from a cabdriver. I didn’t know it then, but he dropped me of at the Placa del Catalunya, the nerve center of Barcelona. A charismatic square combining the history of the city with its modern day pace of life. It was windy and cold in Amsterdam when I took off, but it’s pleasant and dry while a walk the broad Avinguda del Portal de l’Angel only two hours later.
The cabdriver told me to go left where I should have gone right, making me look like an ignorant pedestrian tourist holding a map while being lost. The local hoodlums picked this up quickly and plotted to pick my pockets. Buenas noches Spain, just here for 15 minutes and all ready I get handed the opportunity to fight. The gentlemen seized me up, and quickly drew the conclusion it was too much afford for too little profit. Yes, big, fat, fucking black dressing, hairless, hells angel looking, Dutch guy coming thru!! Victorious I continued my quest for the cheap hostel that should be here somewhere.
Tomorrow I have to leave again, time and finance is running low. My hostel room with its typical Spanish balcony will accommodate me for just one more night. I’ve seen the Palau del Musica, enjoyed the Rambla, the big Cathedral, La Pedrera, a bunch of museums, the harbor, the squares, the parks, the people, the food, the night life and the sun. But I still don’t get the charm of la Sagrada Familia… So I decided to take another look-see. As I am writing this down, I am on my third terrace with a direct view on the monster, enjoying my overpriced coffee. Now I've dined and drank with her. Tourists are swarming like ants. Heads thrown back in their necks, mouth open, taking on Kamasutra posses just to get that one picture from the right angle. Honestly, I still can’t say La Sagrada Familia is a thing of beauty. But its growing on me. It must be fun to attend mass in Azkaban in 2030, when it’s supposedly finished. Gaudi, being brilliant and clearly deranged, must have imagined the Sunday morning acoustic effects of a gospel quire inside, all the people pausing on the street to gaze at his creation. And God looking down from heaven, telling Jesus: ‘Fetch me some water Son, I must have a hang over again.’
Christ on Acid, Gaudi was ahead of his time indeed.
Whiskey from a plastic jar.
I imagine myself jumping up and down on her corpse. The girl behind the counter charges €7.50! for an ordinary Jameson, just to pour it into a PLASTIC jar .., forcing me to gather a search party to see if I can find the whiskey on the bottom somewhere.. the glory of Schiphol airport, they just don't get it.
How did I get here again?
Struggling with a bad case of quarter life crisis, I decided yesterday not to be in town for my 31ste birthday. I don't like birthdays, least of all mine... Instead of congratulating our mothers, for suffering hard labour and thick ankles for 9 months and thanking our fathers for sticking around for the full torture of 9 months of mood swings and feeding frenzies, we celebrate our existence by various amateurish versions of "I'm/he's/she's a jolly good fellow". I don't like the obligatory hand shaking, bearded aunt kissing and make believe happy joy joy atmosphere of birthdays. So I usually skip it, it has become a sort of tradition. The Birthday Sod Off if you will. Not to mention turning 31.., my god, to old to be young, young enough to realize your getting old. In my case, realizing you've spent half your life asleep, drunk, at work or waiting inline.., and still don't no what you want to do with the remaining half.
I fit the model of a modern day consumerist, I am a slave of capitalism. Work,consume, eat, shit, consume, sleep, sex and consume some more... And now I've embraced consumerism to escape the inevitability of growing old, shaking hands and fulfilling obligatory routines along the way. I bought the cheapest ticket to any place warmer and drier then Holland, I could find. So Barcelona, brace yourself. Let me spend my money on you, so I can repeat the cycle of consummation when I get back.
Still, that's no excuse for them to pour whiskey into plastic though.
Consumed in Disneyfication.
The Homo Universalis is a dieing breed, if not extinct already. the days that Leonardo da Vinci stole corpses, created the last supper and had time to spare for mathematical matters are long gone. These days Leonardo di Caprio gets paid to delude us. He plays a part, wins an oscar and we call it art. Globally atrackting an audience Da Vinci never would.
It's the 21 first century. Louis Armstrong is downloadable on Mp3 and Niel makes his giant leap from internet to our harddrive at the stroke of a key. After our work and commute, we like a little distraction from our day to day reality. And why not? We work hard to pay for our bills and the pase of our consummation. So it's logical to sweeten the fruit of work with a little drama or Disneyfication. We check what's going on in Wisteria Lane, watch House limp around being brilliant with his cane.
The news feeds us the latest bombings and economic frustrations, internet provides us with porn, games, trivia and gossip without limitations.
Information is so easily accessible that it doesn't require any thought to get embedded in our head. Fox news is right over here. Al Jazeera is right over there. Simply because of what they repeatedly said. It's eerie how t.v. and internet know our inner fears, cultivate and nourish them so the static never clears. It's even more astounding how we swallow it whole, no research, no critical view of self at all. The powers that be state their fact. The media reports. The public tunes in, consume and eventually act.
In the age of human cloning and DNA manipulation, this is the media food chain that we feed with our hunger for thought simplification. The makers, who invent the news, benefit from our collective sloth of mind. The winner is he who gets to impregnate the media with the darkest, most charismatic denomination. When did we chose to leave self criticism and moral contemplation behind?
In the end, we are the oblivion consumer of the portrayed fear and frustration. We, the audience, that hunger for, nourish and starve the simplicity of mediafication.
Mayhem of Snooze
You know those people whom jump out of bed, whistling, with total disregard for either sides of the bed? Zippedidoda zippediday... Well I'm the guy who wants to kill them all.
I can't stand happy in the morning. There's a time and place for everything, and the morning just isn't it. Happy should be a nighttime thing, accompanied by Glenfiddich and good music and God willing a beautiful woman, naked and drunk. Not a morning mist tearing up your eyes, while cycling to work in a herd of paycheck slaves doing the same to pay their mortgage. If this phenomenon brings about a good mood for you, you should search the motivation for it. I'm sure it's a routine forced artificial happiness brought about by the scarcity of possibilities of fleeing your fat, sexually unfulfilled,increasingly sagging wife , the IKEA house she picked and your materialistically spoiled but emotionally neglected, E.T. look alike children.
The rare occasions in which I have to wake up early for work usually leave a day long blood thirst in my mouth. A few employers ago, the epic battle to awake in a human like state in the morning, and go to work without committing a felon, was much more prominent then now, thank God. But still, gun control is a good thing.
It's mental masochism. Embracing the sweet endorphines of sleep, fighting the harsh reality of paycheck responsibilities. My bed is hugging me in a desperate plea not to leave it, but the countdown by snooze makes the reality of employee enslavement bare down on me like a jackhammer. The warm, womb like nest of covers cradle me, whispering sweet loving words of fake comfort in my ears:
'It's okay, if you skip the news and traffic is good, you've got at least 10 more minutes of warmth in here.'
When ever I have to get up early, this has become my routine. Ignoring my snooze 3 times already, skipping my coffee, a decent shower and breakfast. There is no way now that I'll be chipper some time soon today. So what the hell. Relying on the relentlessly annoying ringtone I appointed too the snooze alarm on my Nokia, I decide to risk it. Semi asleep I prolong my execution with 10 more minutes. And sure enough I dimmer of too a sweet dream in which I am waterboarding the guy that installed the snooze alarm on my Nokia with a 10 minute inter fall. After I've almost drowned him for the 4th time, subconsciously, I realize something's off... The fictitious euphoria from "not torturing" my evildoer American style, is killed by the abrupt realization that my alarm should have woken my from Guantanamo 30 minutes ago...
Seeing I am at least 20 minutes late for my shift of slavery, something even my adrenaline rush can't make up for, I figure it's time for coffee. Fuck em. Black, no sugar, no sweets, just strong hot coffee. On the couch in my undies.Turn on the news. Watching what drama has struck the world, while I was cradled by Johny Walker dreams.
And sure enough my phone rings:
"Hello? WTF? Why the hell are you calling me at this time in the morning? Don't you know it's not even seven thirty yet...? What? Wait, I said wait! Let me check..., nope I've got a late shift today. I got it right here! You sure? Did they change it again!? Goddammit! Well, okay, I'll be there in 30 minutes. No it's okay. Goodbye."
Oil addicted war in Iraq, famine in Sudan, corrupt politicians and worldwide economic crisis. The most recent horrors displayed for me. I get to watch it all, motionless, AND have coffee. The world is safe from my wrath and my co-workers will be thankful when I'll show up in 45 minutes. Not the worst morning I ever had. Just one of the benefits of being a bad, bad person.
Maybe that Nokia guy wasn't all bad.
