There are a lot more hoboes this Thanksgiving.  I want to give thanks for the Salvation Army, the church pantries, the homeless shelters, and the acts of kindness many extend to pilgrims in need.  Take a moment to think of the community aid sites and groups nearby.  The people of America have donated, aided, and extended helping hands beyond their means this year.  I love our country, and our grateful citizens who help those among us, who normally would be helping others if working.

I also want to acknowledge the philanthropic and charitable services provided by the national atheist help organizations!  Never mind, there aren’t any.  If there’s no God, then there’s no need to worry about helping others, just yourself.  And or course, we should feel sad that they have to endure all these Christian traditions such as giving thanks, or worse Christmas!

Hobo life is not something people choose as what they want to be when they grow up.  Hobo life is a path cast by society upon families that had steady jobs, a regular home, and a major change in the country’s fortunes.  Considering how bad the economy has treated so many, our President should be grateful that widespread looting, robbing, and worse is not out of control.  “Burn baby, burn!”  Remember the Watts riots of Kalifornia.  It was easy to give excuses if it wasn’t your place being pillaged, because  the have nots had coverage pity by commercial media,it was understandable to greedy people other people wanting to take from anyone that has stuff you want NOW.

It is the amazing discipline of the American heritage of overcoming hardships by suceeding.  Otherwise, if you give up hope, you steal, you murder, you don’t think about the consequences of mass riots like Watts.

Einbruchdiebstahl

Wohnungen und Privathäuser sind wieder deutlich öfter Ziel von Einbrechern. Dass sie ihre Objekte und die damit verbundenen Risiken genau
abschätzen, sollte nicht unterschätzt werden.

Früher wäre für mich eine Wohnung im Parterre noch erstrebenswert gewesen. Heute aber, müsste ich mich fürchten, bei offenem Fenster zu schlafen und die Angst, dass eventuell ein Einbrecher durch ein Fenster oder über den Balkon klettert, wäre mehr als beunruhigend.

Es lauern Diebe vor dem Haus und schleichen durch die Nacht,

besonders wenn dort Hab und Gut von niemandem bewacht.

Alarmanlagen gut gewählt sind das, was heute zählt,

um Einbruch, Diebstahl zu verhindern,

will man die Schadensfälle mindern.

~ Ingrid Riedl ~

Die Polizei appelliert auf das richtige Verhalten der Bürger. Mit geeigneten mechanisch-technischen Maßnahmen kann das Einbruchrisiko entscheidend vermindert werden. Trotzdem bleibt ein Restrisiko.
Wichtige Vorsichtsmaßnahmen:

• Haus/Wohnung/Geschäft auf Schwachstellen prüfen.
• Beim Weggehen Fenster und Türen schließen.
  Abends Fenster- und Rollläden schließen und auf der Innenseite verriegeln.
• Keine Schlüssel hinterlegen (Fußmatte …). Keine Hinweise auf Abwesenheit machen durch Notiz an der Haustüre oder Mitteilung auf dem Telefonbeantworter.
• Anwesenheit signalisieren. Licht brennen lassen, evtl. Zeitschaltuhr.
  Abwesenheit der Nachbarschaft mitteilen; Briefkasten leeren lassen.
• Wenig Bargeld und Schmuck zu Hause aufbewahren. Wertsachen sind sicher im Tresor- oder Kundenschließfach bei Ihrer Bank.
• Verdächtige Wahrnehmungen sofort der Polizei melden (Notruf )

Cute Security-Video – http://www.clipfish.de/video/1762307/cute-security/

Erster Schultag in  Wien (oder sonstwo in Österreich oder Deutschland)

Der Direktor ruft die Schüler auf:

“Mustafa El Ekh Zeri”

“Anwesend”

“Achmed El Cabul”

“Anwesend”

“Kadir Sel Ohlmi”

“Anwesend”

“Mohammed End Ahrha”

“Anwesend”

“Mi Cha El Mai Er”

… Stille im Klassenzimmer…

“Mi Cha El Mai Er”

…. Stille im Klassenzimmer…

“Ein letztes Mal:  Mi Cha El Mai Er”

Jetzt steht ein Bub in der letzten Reihe auf und sagt:

“Das bin wahrscheinlich ich, aber mein Name wird

MICHAEL MAIER

ausgesprochen…

For at forøge sin popularitet har EU-kommissionen besluttet at lempe på forbudet mod nøgenbilleder på arbejdspladser. Fremover vil nøgenbilleder af  Catherine Ashton, Mariann Fischer Boel og Marianne Jelved igen være tilladt døgnet rundt, mens nøgenbilleder af Bertel Haarder og Holger K. Nielsen kun må være ophængt efter klokken 21 

FCK’s bestyrelsesformand Flemming Østergaard,  som netop er fyldt 66 år, har bebudet, at han vil gå af om senest fire år!

I recently drew my attention to RTE’s new comedy sitcom series starring Ardal O’Hanlon. Val Falvey TD I suppose, is not an unprecedented idea for a sitcom series in Ireland at the moment. It seems the producers decided it was time to rip something akin to urine out of the current political situation. The question is, how do they get on with it?

Well, the answer is not great. The first episode Rash Promise tells of one woman’s struggle to get compensation from a swimming cap factory for dumping waste into the lake next to it, where she swims because she likes the “Jacuzzi effect”. The fact that this factory pays Val Falvey a “consultancy fee” puts him in a predicament when the woman threatens to go to the press.

In addition to this, Val struggles with his self image and starts learning how to ride a bike after one of his opposition make the front page of the paper for ‘going green’. His family seem detached from him and this is shown in his clumsy flirting with Eurovision winner and general ‘likely to turn up anywhere’, Linda Martin.

And perhaps that’s where the problems begin. These are the three main plots of the episode but it’s only 25 minutes long, and it’s really trying to do too much. At the halfway point, I wasn’t quite sure whether the swimming cap factory story was supposed to be the main plot or subplot. It was a little bit confused as to what it wanted to be though admittedly, the payoff was surprisingly amusing if predictable.

One thing that struck me though, is RTE’s seeming love affair with the midlands, and making them look as bleak as is utterly possible. Pure Mule made a recent reappearance and for the most part was quite good. Now we have Val Falvey TD stuck in a caravan in the midlands, which we’re supposed to find funny, why? Because we haven’t seen it before? If they’d wanted to make this caravan idea truly funny, they should have set the series in Donnybrook or Foxrock. A local politician working out of a caravan in Foxrock, with the local villagers – now that would be funny.

There are a few sporadic moments of comedy throughout the episode – none of it laugh out loud, more a kind of dry wit. There is mention of a Taoiseach showing a TD a million pound in a suitcase – considering this is a political sitcom, I’m surprised it took 15 minutes to use that line. There is also some witty banter at the expense of Ireland’s Eurovision record, Linda Martin and Wolfe Tone but nothing that we haven’t seen or heard before.

And that’s probably, ultimately where this series will fail. You can see clear Fr. Ted style comedy, right down to the fact that Ardal O’Hanlon’s newly elected politician is only marginally more intelligent than Fr. Dougal McGuire was.

Val Falvey TD lacks the freshness that a series like Killinaskully had when it first aired. It lacks the double-entendres and funny yet completely unbelievable characters that Killinaskully had. And perhaps more importantly, and through no fault of its own, it lacks any other decent Irish comedy sitcom to compare itself to. It’s not something RTE do a lot of. And their recent decision to axe The Clinic, one of the few decent attempts they had at a drama series does not bode well for our Public Sector Broadcaster’s credibility.

Val Falvey TD ultimately is mediocre. If it was any longer than half an hour, we’d probably turn it off, but the way things are at the moment, we’d suffer that long just to hear a half decent Bertie Ahern joke (which incidentally turns up in some scripts I’m working on myself, at the moment).

The political situation in Ireland at the moment is crying out to be satirised. But it could have been done so much better than this.

mein lieblingsgoldjäckchen, die blonde russin, ist offenbar aus dem seefeld weggezogen. heute mittag hab ich sie mal wieder im tram getroffen, mit freundin.

goldjäckchen: “ich muss immer parkplatz finden hier, ist schwär”

freundin: “wie gefällts dir in feldmeilen?”

goldjäckchen: “ist viiel schener. nur zum einkaufen muss ich jedän tag in die stadt, aber ruddi (ruedi, nehm ich an) hat jetzt grosses chaus fur mich und tatjana (die tochter, hoff ich)”

freundin: “besser als im seefeld?”

goldjäckchen: “viiel bessär. chat gute nachbarschaft, weisst du. nicht soviele auslander, nur simon estes, er ist schwaaarz. aber er macht oper, ist nicht gefehrlich.”

freundin: “aber das seefeld ist ja auch nicht die schlechteste adresse”

goldjäckchen. “das ist vorbai. jetzt wohnen nur noch auslander da.”

freundin: “ausländer?”

goldjäckchen: “meine alte haus ist jetzt voll von deitschen!”

And now the moment you didn’t even know you’d been waiting for: my second attempt at gen-yoo-wine holiday audio satire! (Hear my first one here.)

Always ripe for parody, I invite you to “enjoy” this Write in the Kisser Thanksgiving exclusive: Real Men of Genius: Mr. Turkey Stuffing Inventor.* Don’t forget to crank those speakers! (down to zero so you don’t have to listen to this drivel)

What do you mean this isn't how you're supposed to eat the stuffing?

________________
* For the record, from a technical point of view, this recording is not what you’d call a top-notch effort. But I only came up with the idea yesterday afternoon and was rushing to get it done before going away for the holiday, so feel free to bite me if that bothers you. And by “me” I mean “the nearest available turkey.”

You’re a hateful, socially-inept, charmless, morally spineless, cowardly, free-loading, Skeletor-faced, spunk-brained, king-sized loser of a limp dick. You’re a cock, you’re a tosser, you’re fat-arsed chair glosser. You make me sick.

Admit it. Reading that paragraph made you reflect on what an atrocious cunt you are. Experiment in cold-reading over. It’s ok. I’m not singling you out. The rest of us are scum too:  mankind is lots of tiny bits of scum floating towards other bigger clumps of scum to form a planet-sized ball of scum hurtling towards death, the biggest scum of them all, apart, perhaps, from life. One bloated rotten putrid scum together. Listen to Jeff Lewis’ East River song and this might somehow seem like a wonderful, magical thing. But it isn’t. It’s awful. And if you think differently you’re deceiving yourself like the self-deluding skin-sack of rotting scum that you are.

I’m especially scummy. I know this because I’m the target of a campaign of vicious bile-bombings by Charlie Brooker. Brooker has made my scummyness absolutely clear. The other day he verbally and physically assaulted me. Last night, he repeatedly kicked me in the face – I bled profusely, turning a snow-white pavement from the old Trebor Mr Soft adverts into the river of blood from the Shining. He didn’t say anything, mind – just raised an eyebrow, shook his head and walked off.

I’ve never spoken to Charlie Brooker. I don’t know him. Like every other respiring liberal, I love his column and Screenwipe and even the show he did on Channel 4 when it didn’t have Frankie Boyle and Josie Long on it making me want to fry slices of my own left-hemisphere, like a lonesome Hannibal Lecter, with the hope of making speech recognition an impossibility. But that’s as far as it goes.

See: Charlie Brooker is the Freddy Krueger of vicious satire. He’s terrorising my dreams. I’m not sure how he does it or why, but it appears he won’t stop until he’s successfully pummelled my self-esteem into submission.

So ok, it’s my sub-conscious doing a poor imitation of Brooker through a limited lens of uncreative swearing, with an eccentric bad vigilantism borrowed from The Punisher. But I’m convinced he’s got something to do with it. I walked past him in Clapham the other day, holding hands with a woman who looked like/was Konnie Huq, off of the new Aids adverts. It might not have been her, but the two are permanently associated in my mind after he made her do this. Whatever, she looked slightly ashamed. To be fair, we were gawping at them like drooling newborn infants unable to control our eye movements. But then CB looks like a grumpy Mount Rushmore president coming at you in real life: his head is all massive and granitey. With the added Huq-factor, there was plenty to involuntarily gawp at.

Mainly though, we were gawping cos we’d successfully, though accidentally, summoned Brooker like an evil comedy genie. Moments before he appeared, conversation had randomly turned to a loud discussion of his TV output. Coincidence? I’m pretty sure I said his name at least 3 times: anyone familiar with the Candyman films will know this is enough to invoke an evil spirit. Upon revealing himself, Brooker looked a bit angry (presumably because we’d rudely extracted him from the dark netherworld in which he usually dwells). I suspect it was at this point he used his nefarious powers to enter my subconscious, where he’s been stalking me ever since.

So: does anyone know how to stop a bilious dream satirist? Burying him in ground consecrated by Holy Water would seem like the obvious way to go, but I’m happy to consider other suggestions.

Der freche Heinz kann es nicht lassen: “Die nächste Message schicke ich euch per YouPorn!”

Wenn die Bosse nach unten schauen, sehen sie nur Scheiße. Wenn die Untergebenen nach oben schauen, sehen sie nur Arschlöcher.


Via ibo.posterous.com

By Alan Caruba

Try not to think about Harry Reid, Obamacare, or the nation’s problems for a day. Instead, think of its great heritage of freedom and rededicate yourself to restoring it.

Alan Caruba writes a daily post at Warning Signs. A business and science writer, he is the founder of The National Anxiety Center.

Read more thought provoking articles at Warning Signs

I know promised to write this yesterday but then Man proposes and God disposes. Yesterday was a terribly hectic day and I got no time at all. Anyhow, here it is. Enjoy!

My next story is going to be about a vampire who’s in love with girl who’s human. The antagonist is going to be a Marathi Manoos werewolf who wants to kill the vampire because he’s a Bhayya. He wants to kill the girl because she called Mumbai Bombay to express solidarity with her lover.

How this helps:

Raj Thackeray takes affront and decides to express his outrage by vandalising bookstores and burning copies of your book in illustrative / intimidatory bonfires. Of course, this results in loss of revenue but it also guarantees publicity. Publicity that you can’t otherwise buy. Your book starts getting talked about and people who otherwise wouldn’t have bought it queue up to buy. It all works out.

Now, the flip side:

What if Raj Thackeray isn’t interested? What if the issue is not worth his time?

Enter the failsafe:

The vampire-girl duo are on the run and take shelter with some friendlies. Did I say friendlies? Not quite. You see, those friendlies are actually Jehadi Lychans who have an agenda of their own.  And their plan is to drill a hole all the way into the Earth’s core and plant a zillion megaton nuclear bomb there. Of course, you can’t drill a hole all the way to the Earth’s core but figure out a revolutionary new technology that does it anyway. For ideas, look up the film The Core.

Now, why would the Lychans shelter our protagonists? There can be two reasons. One, well, the werewolves with their heretic ideology are their enemies and any enemy of an enemy is a friend. Two, the journey to the centre of the Earth is fraught with peril and they need stooges to do it for them.

Meanwhile the Sun is flaring up out of control, and shooting tiny neutrinos into the Earth which is heating up the crust intolerably.

While our protagonists are with the Lychans, introduce a brilliant, sensitive Lychan painter who paints nude werewolf goddesses. 

Meanwhile, the werewolves catch up with the protagonists. While they are in Lychan territory, they stumble upon the painter’s works. Of course, once that happens, they do what comes naturally to them. They destroy the paintings. In the midst of the destruction, however, in a fit of petulance, the werewolf leader, an accomplished cartoonist, stops to draw some offensive sketches of the Lychan god.

How does it all end? How do I know? I haven’t thought of everything yet.

All I know is your book gets released. All castes and communities unite in calling for a universal ban on the book. Now join hands with a pirate on a revenue share basis. Now sit back and watch your bank balance grow.

Sigh. If only I could get someone to publish it. Sigh, maybe I’ll go to the Danish cartoon guys.

Endlich hat der VG-Rat seinen Einspruch gegen den Kreis-Bescheid zum Pfortenstück begründet. Die Kreisverwaltung hatte ja die Änderung des Flächennutzungsplans nicht genehmigt, da die Verbandsgemeinde die Belange des Denkmalschutzes ihrer Ansicht nach nicht genug berücksichtigt hatte. Aber was versteht schon ein Raumplaner vom Denkmalschutz?
Zum Glück gibt es ja die gesammelte Denkmalschutzkompetenz im Rat der Verbandsgemeinde Wachenheim. Die hat jetzt erkannt: Nicht ein Supermarkt bedroht die mittelalterliche Stadtmauer am Pfortenstück, sondern die Touristen. Von einem Sondergebiet für Tourismus gehe eine “deutlich größere Gefahr” für das denkmalgeschützte Gemäuer aus.

Ja klar! Warum sind wir da nicht alle schon viel früher drauf gekommen? Die Touristen sind die eigentliche Gefahr für Burgen, Mauern und Ruinen. Wenn wir unsere Baudenkmäler effektiv schützen wollen, müssen wir Touristen von ihnen fernhalten. Ein Supermarkt ist da ein probates Mittel. Der könnte Touristen tatsächlich von der gefährlichen Idee abbringen, sich die Wachenheimer Stadtmauer mal aus der Nähe anzusehen.

Vielleicht sollten die Verbandsgemeinderäte mit dieser Idee ins Beratungsgeschäft einsteigen. Konsum als neue Waffe in der Tourismusbekämpfung! Ohne Supermarkt ist es doch nur eine Frage der Zeit, bis Touristen den Freinsheimern ihre Mauer zerstören. Und auch das Hambacher Schloss ist akut durch Urlauber bedroht. Von der Wachtenburg ganz zu schweigen!

Wir sollten die klugen Köpfe im Verbandsgemeinderat nicht allein lassen. Jeder Einzelne kann helfen, Touristen von unseren Kulturgütern fernzuhalten. Wenn Sie der nächste Erholungssuchende fragt, wie der denn zur Burg, zur Stadtmauer oder zur Villa Rustica kommt, handeln Sie verantwortungsvoll! Beschreiben Sie ihm den Weg in den Bruch! Denn wer kauft, zerstört keine Baudenkmäler. Gefahr erkannt, Gefahr gebannt. Danke, weiser Verbandsgemeinderat.

Am I the only person who’s noticed the jeerleaders of the Blogosphere Right have gone completely silent about what they so derisorily call “the train set” since Transport Minister Steven Joyce announced National’s approval of $500 million worth of electric trains for Auckland ? Given this is close to what Michael Cullen paid directly for the country’s whole rail system after it was bled dry and asset-stripped by their mates (and more than what they abused Cullen for in total, when the entire $1 billion Joyce has committed to for the decades-overdue electrification of Auckland’s trains is counted), it’s obvious they have been stunned into silence, waiting for key lines, but Mr Farrar is overseas.

Cue Homepaddock, who always rises to the occasion at Mintie Moments like these.

President Barack Obama yesterday “pardoned” the 2009 National Thanksgiving Tofurky® in a ceremony in the Vegetable Garden on the South Lawn of the White House.

The mock-turkey vegetable roast will not be consumed by the First Family but will frolic with arugula, endive, and other surplus items from the presidential holiday meal in the Official White House Compost Heap.

Image by Mike Licht. Download a copy here. Creative Commons license; credit Mike Licht, NotionsCapital.com

Comments are welcome if they are on-topic, substantive, concise, and not obscene. Comments may be edited for clarity and length.

1. Prime opportunity to discuss weather with distant relatives

2. Get fewer weird looks when wearing turkey costume to grocery store

3. Tryptophan finally receives saturated news coverage it deserves

4. The feeling of cranberry sauce between my toes

5. Excuse to write an abbreviated blog post

The Sydney Morning Herald has reported that the unsettled stomach of a 120-kilogram pig was to blame for a fumy false alarm near Bendigo on Tuesday night.  Fifteen firefighters and two tankers rushed to respond to a report of a strong smell of gas after their pagers sent an alert about 10.30pm.

The area has been identified as one of the state’s most at-risk of bushfires and residents are able to use only bottled gas, thus increasing the risk of a blaze.  But when the crews arrived at the house in Axedale 10 minutes later, the source of the offending smell was clear.

“When we got to the property where (the smell) was, these people had a pig; a big sow which was about 20 metres away from the house,” CFA captain Peter Harkins told Radio 3AW.  “I don’t know what they were feeding this thing but we certainly heard it.”

Mr Harkins said firefighters had “done the right thing” in responding to the call.  “Everyone’s a little bit toey with the recent hot weather we’ve had up here so we responded as we normally do,” he said.  “All I can say is we followed through with our call.”

Mr Harkins said he had captained the rural brigade for “a number of years” but it was the first time they had been called to a farting pig.  “We did hose it down a little bit. It was a little bit on the nose,” he said.

Over de hele wereld zijn woedende moslims de straat opgegaan nadat een leraar aan een middelbare school in Apeldoorn Geert Wilders had vergeleken met Adolf Hitler. ‘Het is onder de sharia verboden Adolf Hitler (VZMH) te beledigen’ verklaarde een woedende Abdul Ali Aziz toen hij op straat door AT5 werd geïnterviewd. ‘Naar dit soort heiligschennis moeten we nu luisteren sinds Wilders zo populair is geworden. De ongelovige leraar dient bestraft te worden!’

Woede over het besmeuren van Hitlers naam brak uit nadat via YouTube een videofilmpje was uitgelekt waarin de leraar in het kader van een geschiedenisles uitlegde waarom Wilders zo veel op Hitler leek. In Indonesië, Sudan en Noorwegen braken onmiddellijk rellen uit en werden Nederlandse vlaggen in brand gestoken.

Een anonieme zegsman van Hezbollah vertelde aan CNN dat de Hitler-vergelijking ‘een onvergeeflijke belediging van de Islam was die met de dood moest worden bestraft. De Grootmoefti van Jerusalem was goed bevriend met Hitler, heeft met hem ontbeten en een legioen van de Waffen SS op de been gebracht! Dit doet de Deense cartoons verbleken, Allah is mijn getuige!’

‘We moeten allen doden die Hitlers naam door het slijk halen. Maar wat doen we? We staan vreedzaam te protesteren’, zei Hamas-aanvoerder Yusuf Mabti, terwijl hij routineus een AK-47 in de lucht leegschoot. Ondertussen klonk uit een luidspreker even verderop ritmisch gezang terwijl 400 demonstranten optrokken naar de EU-vertegenwoordiging in Gaza. ‘We zullen Hitler wreken met ons bloed’, klonk het.

In de rechtbank in New York viel Khalid Sheik Mohammed, hoofdverdachte van de aanslagen op 9/11, woedend uit. ‘Ziet u, Edelachtbare, dit is nu wat ik bedoel. Iedereen weet wat Hitler voor de moslims betekent heeft. Zonder Hitler zou ik nu niet voor u staan!’.

De Wilders-Hitler vergelijkingen werden voor het eerst getrokken door progressieve actievoerders als Doekle Terpstra en Mohammed Rabbae, maar leidden in eerste instantie niet tot felle reacties. Nu de sentimenten een andere draai hebben genomen heeft het NOS journaal verklaard het gewraakte YouTube filmpje niet uit te zenden uit respect voor islamitische gevoelens.

Linkse groepen zoals de Internationale Socialisten, Oxfam-Novib en Advocaten voor Asielzoekers reageerden eveneens onthutst, maar dan om geheel andere redenen. ‘Ik begrijp dat de gevoelens van de moslims gekwetst zijn’, aldus een woordvoerder namens de drie groepen, ‘maar ik betreur zeer dat dit incident een wig drijft tussen onze partijen. De coalitie van Boze Moslims en Boos Links was een match made in heaven. Kunnen ze die Hitler niet wat minder opzichtig vereren? We hebben de vergelijking Wilders-Hitler nodig als essentieel onderdeel van onze demoniseringsstrategie. We hebben juist duizenden T-shirts laten drukken met de afbeeldingen van beide heren erop. Het zou zonde zijn als al dat geld van Oxfam-Novib weggegooid bleek.

Maar verontwaardigde fanatici aan moslimzijde blijken er geen boodschap aan te hebben. ‘Het is jammer dat geen van de leerlingen het initiatief heeft genomen zich met explosieven te omgorden om de leraar en zijn hele klas op te blazen’, zei een anonieme student antropologie te Nijmegen die tevens optreedt als woordvoerder van de Taliban in Nederland, ‘de leerlingen zijn nu voor eeuwig gecorrumpeerd’.

‘God zegene Hitler’ stond op een plakkaat dat een vrouw in hijaab meedroeg in één van de demonstraties. Toen gevraagd werd wat dat betekende verklaarde ze: ‘Hitler hield van kinderen en honden. Hij was onze Verlosser. Hij was op aarde om de eindoplossing te brengen. Het is de Grote Satan Amerika die dat verhinderd heeft. Om Hitler nu te vergelijken met Wilders is verschrikkelijk’. De vrouw weigerde haar naam te noemen omdat ze eigenlijk van haar man geen toestemming had om het huis te verlaten.

Tot slot gaf de bekende strafpleiter Gerard Spong een vooraf opgestelde verklaring uit. Deze luidde: ‘De profeet Adolf (VZMH) was vegetariër. Vegetariërs doen geen vlieg kwaad en doden zeker geen zes miljoen mensen. De vergelijking met Wilders is dus een evident geval van haat zaaien. We gaan deze casus gebruiken om voor eens en voor altijd de discussie over de vermeende vrijheid van meningsuiting te beslechten’.

Confessions of a Pie Thrower

Maybe it’s the big shoes and red nose that gets the heart beating a little faster.  Exponents of the baggy-trousered bicycle grip love dressing up as a clown in greasepaint and, sometimes, engaging in clown-like activities such as pie-throwing, playing with balloons or seltzer-spraying.

The pantomime begins when Spanky the Clown wants to play with his rubber chicken.  ’He’s behind youuuuu!’ I hear you scream