#POTUS Hates the Declaration of Independence

Hello again. Sorry I have been away so long. Real Life got control and I have had to do stuff there.

So lets begin again. We note that ICE murders have escalated with the latest in Minneapolis and Portland, OR. This weekend many protesters have gathered to show their dissatisfaction with the way the government is acting.

I guess POTUS has never read the declaration which started this nation. Here is a portion that is being overlooked: “ Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, —That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government”

If the government we have is not what we want, it is our Right to make the changes or get rid of the one we have so we can make a new one. That's what the founders of the country believed and what they “mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor” If they did that for us, can we do any less for ourselves?

Potus is a danger to our lives, fortunes and honor and must be removed. Urge your representatives to do just that. If they won't then maybe its time to remove them also.

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Jude is one of those books that feels like it was written for moments when faith stops being theoretical and becomes something you have to defend with your whole heart. It is short, almost startlingly so, but it does not whisper. It speaks with the voice of someone who knows what is at stake. Jude is not interested in soft spirituality that floats above real life. He is talking to people who are watching truth get bent, love get hollowed out, and grace get turned into an excuse. And he loves them too much to stay quiet about it.

There is something deeply personal about the way Jude opens his letter. He calls himself a servant of Jesus Christ and a brother of James. That is not just a resume line. It is a positioning of his soul. He is not trying to build a platform. He is reminding us that everything he is about to say comes from loyalty, not ego. He writes to people who are called, loved by God the Father, and kept for Jesus Christ. That phrase alone could carry an entire sermon. Kept for Jesus Christ. Not kept by their own cleverness. Not kept by their flawless theology. Kept by Christ himself. Jude begins with that because everything that follows, even the hard parts, sits inside that truth. You are not being addressed because you are disposable. You are being addressed because you are cherished.

What makes Jude so piercing is that he did not originally intend to write a warning letter. He wanted to write about the shared salvation he had with his readers. He wanted to celebrate the beauty of what they all believed. But something had changed. Something had crept in. People were twisting grace into something that excused selfishness, immorality, and spiritual laziness. They were turning the kindness of God into a permission slip to live however they wanted. Jude felt the urgency of that shift, and it compelled him to change what he was writing. That is a powerful thing. Sometimes love means changing the message you hoped to give because the moment demands a different one.

When Jude tells them to contend for the faith, he is not telling them to become angry or combative. He is telling them to care enough to not let something precious be diluted into meaninglessness. Faith, in Jude’s mind, is not just a private comfort. It is a sacred trust. It was delivered once for all, and that means it has a shape, a story, a substance that matters. When people try to redefine it to make themselves more comfortable, something sacred is being lost.

The danger Jude describes is subtle. These are not obvious villains. These are people who have slipped in unnoticed. They are using spiritual language. They are part of the community. But they are hollowing it out from the inside by redefining grace. They deny Jesus not necessarily with their words, but with their lives. They use God’s mercy as a shield for their own self-centeredness. That is why Jude reaches for such strong images. He talks about Israel in the wilderness, angels who abandoned their proper place, and cities like Sodom and Gomorrah. He is not being dramatic for effect. He is showing a pattern. When people reject God’s design and substitute their own desires, it always leads to collapse, even if it looks clever or enlightened at first.

One of the most haunting phrases in Jude is when he calls these false teachers “clouds without rain.” That image alone can stop you in your tracks. A cloud looks like it is going to bring life. It promises relief, refreshment, something good. But when it passes without rain, it leaves the ground just as dry as before, maybe even more disappointed than it was. That is what empty spirituality does. It talks about hope, but it delivers nothing. It promises freedom, but it leaves people trapped in the same cycles. Jude is warning us not to be impressed by appearance. Fruit matters. Substance matters. Faith that does not change you is not the faith Jude is talking about.

What is striking is that Jude does not just call out what is wrong. He shows us what a healthy spiritual life looks like in contrast. He tells his readers to build themselves up in their most holy faith, to pray in the Holy Spirit, to keep themselves in the love of God, and to wait for the mercy of Jesus Christ that leads to eternal life. That is a beautiful four-part rhythm. Build, pray, keep, wait. It is not frantic. It is not performative. It is deeply relational. Jude is describing a life that stays rooted while everything else is shifting.

There is also a tenderness in Jude that people sometimes miss. He tells his readers to be merciful to those who doubt. That line matters. Jude knows that not everyone who is confused is corrupt. Some people are genuinely struggling. They are trying to make sense of what they have been taught and what they see. Jude’s answer to them is not condemnation. It is mercy. It is patience. It is walking with them. But he also knows that there are people who are being pulled toward destructive ideas, and for them, mercy sometimes looks like intervention. It looks like pulling someone back from the fire. That is not cruelty. That is love that refuses to be passive while someone gets hurt.

One of the most fascinating things about Jude is his use of stories and traditions that are not directly from the Hebrew Scriptures. He references things like the dispute between Michael and the devil over Moses’ body, and the prophecy of Enoch. This has caused endless debates among scholars, but what matters here is how Jude uses them. He is not asking his readers to build their theology on these stories. He is using familiar images to make a point about humility and accountability. Even powerful spiritual beings, in these stories, do not take it upon themselves to pronounce arrogant judgments. They submit to God’s authority. Jude is exposing how absurd it is when human teachers act as if they are above correction.

There is a sobering honesty in Jude’s assessment of what happens when people make themselves the center. He says they follow their own ungodly desires. They cause divisions. They are worldly-minded and devoid of the Spirit. That is not about intellectual disagreement. That is about a heart posture. When faith becomes a tool to serve your ego, it stops being faith in any meaningful sense. Jude is not worried about people asking hard questions. He is worried about people using God to justify themselves.

Yet for all of Jude’s warnings, the letter does not end in fear. It ends in one of the most beautiful doxologies in the entire New Testament. He reminds his readers that God is able to keep them from stumbling and to present them before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy. That is not a small promise. Jude has just described a world full of deception, temptation, and spiritual confusion. And then he says, in the middle of all that, God is able to keep you. Not barely. Not grudgingly. With great joy. God does not save you and then sigh. He delights in bringing you home.

That final image reframes everything. Jude is not telling us to guard the faith because God is fragile. He is telling us to guard the faith because we are precious. The truth matters because it leads us to the One who loves us. When we distort that truth, we are not just playing with ideas. We are playing with the way people encounter God.

In a world that is constantly redefining everything, Jude feels almost prophetic. We live in a time when words like grace, love, and freedom are used constantly, but they often mean whatever the speaker wants them to mean. Jude would ask us to slow down and ask what those words are actually anchored to. Grace is not a license to self-destruct. Love is not the absence of boundaries. Freedom is not the erasure of truth. Jude is calling us back to a faith that is strong enough to be kind and kind enough to be strong.

There is something quietly radical about that. It means you do not have to choose between compassion and conviction. Jude refuses that false choice. He shows us a way to be deeply rooted and deeply gentle at the same time. He wants us to be people who know what we believe and why, but who also know how to sit with someone in their doubt without shaming them.

Jude is a letter for people who care. It is written to those who feel the ache when something sacred is being cheapened. It is written to those who want their faith to be more than a label. It is written to those who know that love without truth becomes hollow, and truth without love becomes harsh. Jude is calling us into a better way, a way that holds on to what matters while still holding people with mercy.

As you read Jude, you can almost hear his heartbeat behind the words. He is not interested in winning arguments. He is interested in saving souls. He is not trying to prove how right he is. He is trying to protect something beautiful from being eroded. That kind of courage does not come from fear. It comes from love.

And that is what makes Jude so relevant now. We are surrounded by voices that tell us to either compromise everything or fight everyone. Jude offers a different path. He calls us to contend for the faith, yes, but to do it as people who are being kept by God, shaped by mercy, and held by joy. He reminds us that in the end, it is not our grip on God that saves us. It is God’s grip on us.

That is where the letter finally rests. Not in our ability to be perfect, but in God’s ability to be faithful. Jude’s warnings are serious because the stakes are high. But his hope is even bigger. We are not alone in this. We are not abandoned to confusion. We are kept.

That single word, kept, might be the quiet heart of the entire letter. Kept when the world is loud. Kept when truth is blurred. Kept when we stumble. Kept for Jesus Christ.

And that is why Jude, short as it is, carries so much weight. It is not just a warning. It is a promise.

Jude’s final movement feels almost like he steps back, takes a deep breath, and then lifts everyone’s eyes upward. After all the warnings, all the imagery, all the hard truth about false teachers and spiritual danger, he refuses to leave us staring at the problem. He moves us to the presence of God. That shift matters more than most people realize. Fear-focused faith always collapses. God-centered faith endures.

When Jude says that God is able to keep you from stumbling, he is not making a sentimental statement. He is making a theological one. He has just spent an entire letter describing how easy it is to be misled, how quickly corruption can creep in, how often people fall into error even when they think they are doing fine. Then he says God is able to keep you. That means your safety is not anchored in your intelligence, your discipline, or your theological precision. It is anchored in God’s power and God’s commitment to you.

This is one of the quiet tensions Jude holds beautifully. On one hand, he tells us to contend for the faith, to stay alert, to guard what is precious. On the other hand, he says God is the one who keeps us. That is not a contradiction. That is relationship. You hold on, but you are not holding alone. You fight for truth, but you are not fighting in your own strength. You stay faithful, but faithfulness itself is being sustained by grace.

Jude’s closing doxology is one of the most hope-filled endings in Scripture because it is so honest about the messiness of the journey. God does not just get you to the finish line. Jude says God will present you before His glorious presence without fault and with great joy. That means the story does not end with you barely making it, scraped and ashamed. It ends with joy. God is not dragging you into heaven like a disappointed supervisor. He is welcoming you like a loving Father who is thrilled to see you home.

This is where Jude’s fierce tone suddenly makes sense. He was never being harsh for the sake of being harsh. He was being protective. When you care deeply about something, you guard it. When you love people, you warn them about what can hurt them. Jude is not trying to scare his readers. He is trying to keep them close to the One who can truly keep them.

There is something deeply needed in that message right now. We live in a time when spiritual language is everywhere, but spiritual depth is often missing. People talk about grace, but they do not always talk about transformation. They talk about love, but they do not always talk about truth. Jude is reminding us that these things belong together. Grace without transformation becomes meaningless. Truth without love becomes unbearable. But when they walk together, faith becomes something that can actually sustain a life.

One of the most beautiful things about Jude is how he refuses to let us become cynical. He knows the dangers. He names them clearly. But he does not let the existence of false teachers rob him of hope. He still believes in the power of the gospel. He still believes in the ability of God to keep His people. He still believes that faith can be strong, pure, and alive, even in a broken world.

That is a word for anyone who feels tired of watching faith get misused. You do not have to give up. You do not have to become bitter. Jude shows us that you can be honest about the problems and still be deeply hopeful about God’s faithfulness. You can acknowledge the darkness without losing sight of the light.

Jude also reminds us that faith is not meant to be passive. We are called to build ourselves up, to pray, to stay in God’s love, and to wait for Christ’s mercy. That is not religious busyness. That is spiritual relationship. It is the daily practice of turning toward God instead of drifting away. It is choosing to stay rooted when everything around you is shifting.

And in the middle of that, we are called to love people. To be merciful to those who doubt. To care about those who are struggling. To reach out to those who are being pulled toward things that will harm them. Jude’s faith is not cold. It is compassionate. It is not detached. It is deeply involved in the lives of others.

In many ways, Jude is inviting us into a mature kind of faith. Not a naive faith that pretends nothing is wrong. Not a hardened faith that expects everyone to fail. But a steady faith that knows God is good, truth matters, and people are worth fighting for.

That kind of faith is rare, and it is precious.

Jude may only be one chapter long, but it carries the weight of someone who understands what is at stake. He understands that what we believe shapes how we live, and how we live shapes who we become. He understands that grace is not a loophole, but a lifeline. He understands that love is not indulgence, but devotion.

And above all, he understands that God is faithful.

So if you ever find yourself wondering whether your faith can survive the confusion, the compromise, the noise, and the pressure of this world, Jude gives you an answer. Yes. Not because you are strong enough, but because God is.

You are kept.

And that changes everything.

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

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Geen Vandaag reportage met Deelnemer 11

Vandaag is alweer de derde dag van zeer verhitte protesten ingegaan. Wij staan hier bij de woordvoerder van deze opgewonden horde de heer en meester Van Voorbijgaande Aard.

Deelnemer 11 – Voorbijgaande wat wilt u bereiken met deze protesten op het malie kolder veld en omstreken?

VVA – Ik wil dat er een einde komt aan het koude weer. Het kan niet zo zijn dat we dit maar zo moeten laten gebeuren, dit ongewone spul zomaar binnen laten en dat nu pril in het jaar juist tijdens de stille winter maand januari waarin ze anders nooit iets dergelijks het land binnen laten!!!

Deelnemer 11 – Wie acht u verantwoordelijk voor deze kwalijke, deerniswekkende toestanden?

VVA – De staat Smægmå, met name de regering, dat onze kabinetten voortdurend vallen kan ik nog wel verdragen maar dat ze dan tussen dat omvallen en opstaan door zo laks worden en alles maar binnen laten waaien in dit land stuit mij tegen de enorm brede borst. Mijn torso verzwakt waar u bijstaat omdat die venijnige koude ongewild en ongevraagd op ieder moment van de dag binnendringt, zou kunnen binnen dringen dan. Ja, er is geen enkele aanleiding voor dit weer, van de regering eis ik al dagen lang een warme reactie op onze toch zeker niet onopvallende aanwezigheid, hier, maar ook op de Dåm in de Kopstad, op vele plekken in iedere koude stad waar mensen namens mijn landelijke organisatie tegen kou en sneeuw opkomen voor onze rechten op stukken aangenamer weer, omstandigheden die minimale aanpassing vereisen, waarop het asfalt gewoon zichtbaar blijft en niet wordt bezoedeld met sneeuw, ijs en dus zout, pekel van de zwakzinnige geest als je het mij vraagt.

Deelnemer 11 – Wat wilt u dat deze nogal instabiele regering hier tegen doet?

VVA – Ik vond dat ze prima bezig waren, aanmoedigen van de handel, investeringen in fossiele brandstoffen mogelijk blijven maken, vlieguren maken, aanmoedigen van kopen en verkopen van land naar land, te land ter zee en door de lucht, heel veel drukte om niets regelen daarom snap ik niet dat ze opeens afzien van dat opwarmende beleid en overgegaan op een nieuwe koude handelsoorlog vol sleetjes, wanten en mutsen. Echt waardeloos gedonder, Hou vast aan je eigen waarde, vastgoed heet het niet voor niks, blijf geloof houden in dit alles vastroestende systeem zodat we niet langer glibberen over de wegen of erger vallen alsof we zelf een kabinet zijn. Dit is onmenselijk, ik had gehoopt dat we dit nooit zouden meemaken, nie wieder kalt.

Deelnemer 11 – U heeft nogal wat kritiek gekregen van met name de staatsomroep maar ook van diverse mensen in het bedrijfsleven die vinden dat het weer zoals het is niet de verantwoordelijkheid is van de de staat als ook de mannen achter de bedrijven die hier goede dure garen bij spinnen, leveranciers van brandstoffen voor warmtebronnen en verkopers van vluchten voor lui die bij de eerste vlok natte sneeuw in verband met diep gewortelde ijstijd angst al naar veel warmere streken vliegen.

VVA – En de handelaars in sneeuwschuivers, pekel en ander gereedschap waarmee mensen zich staande proberen te houden in deze zware gladde tijden niet te vergeten, De verenigde winkeliers en fabrikanten van sneeuwschuivers hebben zelfs geprobeerd mijn thuiswerk kantoor met zwaar vuurwerk te bestoken, Dit ging maar net goed voor mij omdat hun handen te koud waren voor het aansteken van de lont, zelfs de vuurwerkbommen die werken met klittenband konden ze niet losrukken en daardoor mijn huis tot ontploffing brengen. Ik had niet gedacht dat deze bedrijven zo misdadig goed georganiseerd waren, duidelijk alleen gericht op een gewelddadige oplossing voor een eenvoudig op te lossen conflict situatie. Stuur de kou buiten en haal de warmte terug! Simpel.

Deelnemer 11 – Versimpeld u dit probleem niet een beetje?

VVA – Natuurlijk niet, ik weet gewoon wie hier achter steken. Dit is een complot van de killen tegen de warmen. Die lui weten van geen ophouden, willen het liefst alles koud maken, ik heb zelfs een kast in huis die daar aan meewerkt, om hun een plezier te doen! Dan toch dit toe laten, hier zo, waar op elke lijn wel een grenswacht staat die alles wat omgaat tegen kan houden, dan kunnen ze heus wel een koude front weren, hoor! Je zegt gewoon ga terug naar je eigen ijzige plek daar waar de ijsberen dansen en de poolvossen klaverjassen! Niet hier in dit heerlijk gematigde kikkerland met steeds minder kikkers maar meer algen, voor alles heeft de natuur een ander goed ontwikkeld plan.

Deelnemer 11 – U wilt de weer grenswachten wederom in de lucht?

VVA – Meer blauw in de lucht! Zon, warme temperaturen, met een T-shirt aan buiten zitten elke maand ieder jaar, net als vroeger elders, stukje zuidelijker van ons, de flora is inmiddels ook al overtuigd dat het hier thuis hoort mits, die wachten, en ze zijn er al, opgeleid en wel maar weer wegbezuinigd natuurlijk, altijd hetzelfde, dan heb je eens een keer iets goeds en dan dit. Flikker toch op man, val maar weer om en verschuil je achter een non subject, de economie, jeetje als je dat serieus meende dan zaten we hier niet te kleumen op dit in alle haast aangemaakte terras op dit malie tropen kolder veldje, gelukkig hebben onze terrasverwarmers hier inmiddels een warme oase van gemaakt. Zelfs de Basjoo bananenstruik groeit alweer. Zo mag ik het zien! Niet van dat besneeuwde, gewoon volop aan de bak met die instrumenten en de wereld tot een smeulende massa maken.

Deelnemer 11 – Ik moet toegeven dat ik inmiddels zonder een spoortje weerzin al in mijn naakte niet zo brede torso voor u zit en zeker uitkijk naar een heerlijk moment in de door u meegenomen mobiele spa massage bubbelbad maar toch vraag ik u is dit hele gebeuren niet totaal onverantwoord?

VVA – Ja en? Dat is toch de hele opzet van deze onderneming, of ben ik nog altijd een roepende in de permafrost toendra een goed welwillend mens echter voor niemand te horen en te zien? Ondanks de vele protesten met haardvuren en brandstapels en niet al te winterse barbecues, gezellig samen in een minuscule tropen polder met toepassing van kunstmatig slimme warmte bronnen, het is een genot maar ik wou dat het niet noodzakelijk was, dat het gewoon zo was zoals de bedoeling was van ons meerjarenplan opgezet door het grote internationale bedrijfsleven in samenwerking met de landelijke overheid, zij die de ooit pot dichte deuren moeten open laveren, praten, aansturen met behulp van rechtszaken, handelsmissionarissen, al eeuwen aangemoedigd en of met de hulp opgericht van diverse leden van ons Smægmåånse Tartzsårenhuis. Soms Deelnemer 11 vraag ik me af waarom ik je heb aangenomen, je hebt het recht niet om mij te bekritiseren, daar betaal ik je teveel voor! Hou eens op met vragen stellen en ga naar je plek in het heerlijk warme massage bad. Dit kon anders weleens de laatste keer zijn dat ik me laat interviewen op mijn eigen zender, omroep en dergelijke.

Deelnemer 11 – Dank u Van Voorbijgaande Aard voor u bijdrage, ik ben u zeer erkentelijk voor alles, zonder u had ik geen Lamborghini en eerlijk is eerlijk deze wagen is absoluut ongeschikt voor een winters weer type, alleen daarom al ben ik en blijf ik zeer erkentelijk voor alles wat u doet om te zorgen dat dit we aan deze toestanden een einde maken waaronder het te pas en te onpas beschikbaar maken van heerlijk bubbelende warme water met opties voor een geweldige zinnenprikkelende voetmassage.

VVA – Ik denk dat ik je contract openbreek 11.

مؤخرا تم اختراق منتدى BreachForums

و تم تسريب معلومات مستخدميه 😁

و اللي ما عاقلش، فهاد المنتدى فين تحط الاختراق ديال الCNSS

شكون حطو؟ مستعمل باسم Jabaroot

ايوا ها هوما معلوماته:

تهلاو!

Het Rommel en Rotzooi Treurvers

Rommel en rotzooi twee handen op één onderbuik ze zijn zeer gehecht aan alles wat je maakt en of gebruikt rommel en rotzooi ze zijn altijd in de buurt maken deel uit van alles wat gekocht is of gehuurd de beste vijanden voor altijd in de dagelijkse inkomsten strijd iedereen staat voor de eeuwigheid bij deze beide makkers in het krijt elke leraar voor ieder schoolbord en iedere scholier de slager, de consumentenbond en stichting lekker dier

rotzooi en rommel horen erbij, ze zijn je verplichte averij ze zijn de printer cartridge en het entree poortje voor de rij ze zijn het onvermijdelijke effect van het huidige bestaan de vaste onkosten en het inkomen behorende bij iedere kringloopbaan waar rommel is is rotzooi ook samen zijn ze het vuur en de rook het stoplicht en de stroom, de windmolen en het paneel ze zijn dat ene botje dat blijft steken in de keel en de kosten die je daarvoor moet maken bij het ziekenhuis ze zijn de winkel via golven of een kabel elk etmaal thuis

rommel en rotzooi komen overal samen in de grote afvalbak zijn de stropdas bij het nette pak, druppelen bij elk lek door ieders dak rommel en rotzooi komen in folders of met getekend briefpapier staan in rijtjes op het etiket en in de fles van elk merk bier waar jij bent zijn zij ook jij het vuur zij de rook of andersom jij de rook van het heilig rommelig vuur het is goedkoop of het is duur maar het blijft rotzooi hoe je het ook bekijkt waarmee je het driftige bestaan als uranium verrijkt rommel en rotzooi je raakt er nooit vanaf zoals de cover van het korenoogst boek hoort bij de extra kaf t

rommel is onderdeel van elke inzet bij iedere handeling het is zowel de uitgave, de lezing als ook de nabespreking rommel en rotzooi je wilt er het liefst vanaf maar als je poogt dat te doen komt het juist op je af waar je het ook dumpt het komt altijd weer bij je terug het is de vaste geankerde last op de schouders en de rug het hele lichaam bezwijkt onder het enorme gewicht het zit zelfs opgesloten in dit verdomde gedicht het is de plek en manier waarop het is gepubliceerd de gedane zaak neemt verdomme wel een keer en steeds dezelfde weg terug in de kop waar het is ontstaan rommel en rotzooi zitten in een vaste baan

ze leven als luizen op al onze zere hoofden huizen in ergernissen en in haarkloven komen aanhoudend tot ons via alle ingenomen stop contacten zitten als inkt op het papier van contracten rommel en rotzooi er komt nooit een einde aan als we blijven meegaan in deze zeer verstrikte ons omringende vaste baan tweebaans, drie, vierbaans, vijf baans, tijdelijke en zenuwbanen waar we geacht worden om ons in te moeten bekwamen door als waanzinnigen werkenden wonen we allen in overstromende huizen een plek vol lijsten, krukken, draden en daarom heen buizen voor de stichting van de bouw als ook de stichting van het gezin er in het zit besloten in onze met liefde aangeleerde als groot gegeven zin rommel en rotzooi zijn om het gat van elke stad de ring het ongeluk en daarna de verkeersopstopping de vervuiling is rommel's bijnaam de vergiftiging die van rotzooi maar het is en blijft dezelfde kooi al die vuile bijwerkende naam woorden drukken we in dat zelfde bodemloze meer maar het gedane neemt ook met andere woorden geen keer

rotzooi en rommel gooi je het in zee komt het weer boven of spoelt het weer aan wil je het voor morgen laten liggen zie je het onvermijdelijk al voor het opstaan ze kloppen je hart te snel op, maken je lever te zwaar verkankeren de cellen en verstoren vol enthousiasme elk goed bedoeld gebaar rommel en rotzooi blijven zitten om je als een tweede derde en zelfs vierde huid ze horen in iedere luidspreker, bij de klankkast van het afstandelijk opgenomen geluid ze zijn samen niet te kloppen eenmaal op gang geholpen niet te stoppen vluchten noch vechten is zinloos want door elke inzet wordt het meer wil je het kapot slaan doe je alleen jezelf en anderen zeer maak je de rotzooi klein wordt rommel juist groot rommel en rotzooi is dit huidig bestaan even onontkoombaar als de dood dicht je rommel dan gaat de rotzooi lekken de bron ervan laten ze iedere keer door zelf geproduceerd afval bedekken rommel en rotzooi een meedogenloos stel vergelijkbaar met kommer en kwel met tandenknarsen en geween rollen van steeds dezelfde op de piek aangekomen terug rollende steen rotzooi en rommel zijn onze allerbeste vrienden voor de eeuwigheid ze zijn het spul waarmee ieder kinderbedje tot datzelfde eindeloze punt wordt gespreid

en bedankt

I do not seek perfection. I seek truth, beauty and permanence.

Oh, JOY! What day was this I had? From suns first until the gong of midnight, I sought, and found—only joy. Only love, only ache of the most welcome and glorious kind. THIS is romance.

In truth, Wolf started his day quite low. But, the best way to lay down a heavy heart is to pour it out. So pour I did. And pour and pour and pour. I expunged myself of that energy with passion and determination.

I still felt (and feel) like an ill person who is healing. Not quite myself, but so vastly superior to before that it defies description.

Thank you to the assistive soul. Who listened and was kind and hurt because I hurt. And was loving but frank and pulled me from my bent, where I landed realizing that passion need not control us. It is an engine that must be tamed, used to great power, but never left to run un-throttled.

GETTING IT ON

We finally stepped out of the house, midday, bound for Thyssen museum. Not ideal, but I wasn't worried. I knew we would have adventure regardless of the when or the where.

First stop: Correo! For post card stamps. More lines! The Spanish LOVE a good queue. In fact, I think that is a Europe thing. We are disappointed when the clerk admits they are out of stamps. We'll have to find a second.

Strolling down the main avenue, I spot a thrift store, modernizingly named 'Vintage'.

Inside, I find a most delectable coat. As winter drives in, I am in need of a warmer wrapper.

It is a delight; warm, stylish, a little snug (fitted). I have grown very fond of the cut and fit of most Spaniards. They look and no doubt feel beautiful. Green with wood buttons and an abundance of zippered pockets. This is important for an artist and writer to stick all his stuff.

Look out Indiana Jones, I think I'm going to out-adventure your look!

Newly packaged, we decided the rest of the day, we'd lose ourselves in the visages left by great artists. So it was:

TO THE THYSSEN-BORNEMISZA MUSEUM!

Bus-hopping has become second nature. And I am enjoying metro rides and buses here in Madrid. It's like a game to arrive without missing a window. And then there are the people. Genuine Spaniards living life. I stand out.

Some buses see tourists, though not many. I don't think I've seen any tourists on the Metro.

SIGHTS SEEING ME

We get a big picture window cruising down the grand avenue which is packed with people. In a place we were the day before, I see a street artist I intended to patronize the day before, with attention if nothing else. I take out my phone and take a few pictures, just to record her geolocation.

Weirdly, she stands up and blocks the view of her work. Then, shoots me the bird. It's odd and performative. Reaching down she holds up a sign that says:

ME HAN ROBADO, NECESITO DINERO URGENTEMENTE. (I've been robbed, I need money urgently.)

I get the desperation. But the reaction reads more like mental illness than desperation. I don't think I'll risk going back.

There is an accident and our bus changes routes. We jump off at the next stop and walk the quarter of a mile to the Museum.

HOW TO LOOK AT ART

Today is a great day to visit. It is hardly populated. In fact, I notice the city itself seems largely emptied of its pre holiday crowds. And I love it. I GREATLY prefer an empty museum to a packed one.

My most distracting experience in that regard was at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, where we saw a Magritte show. It was shoulder to shoulder—and not the way to see art.

Art requires the ability to take your time: step back, toe to the left and the right. See how the light penetrates some pigments but simply reflects off others.

And this modern and well-lit museum delivers. Plenty of room to roam and soak it in. And I drink for hours. Longed for favorites with Picasso and Degas, surprises from Okeefe and Remington. And so so many works by artists of little renown but amazing beauty.

THE TRAVELING EXHIBIT

Starting with Warhol/Pollock, it is an interesting experience. The curator is commenting on abstract versus figurative work. And I agree Warhol took figurative elements and pushed them until they are abstract.

His 'Oxidize' series is both appealing and off-putting. Warhol spilled body fluids on to canvas (sweat, urine and other undisclosed material) and let time do it's work. Weird but also kind of intriguing that he had the boldness to do it. The organic nature of it triggers my nose to run and on a second visit, puts in me into a fit of sneezing.

I read at the Banksy, 'The ultimate goal is to spend less time making the art than the public does looking at it.”

Warhol wins in this respect.

His shadow pieces manage to evoke a tear somehow. Something about they being empty places in his studio. And something about painting dozens of the same thing that is just vague shapes.

INTERMISSION

We break in the museum cafe. It is cold and we are tired. Worth the premium. I have a cream cheese croissant and water while my partner has a lintel soup.

I want wine, but I do not want wine. The evening prior saw me drink an entire bottle of brut and I do not want nor need the emotional or physical cost of more of the fruit of the vine today.

Post meal I do some drawing while she chats at me. Eventually, I am so tired I nod off. A welcome respite for 10 minutes. Until my slipping elbow knocks the plate to the floor.

TWENTIETH CENTURY MASTERS

We spend the next 3 hours discovering and rediscovering masterworks. There really is nothing as enriching a a museum. Maybe a library. But a museum takes less work! I love it. I want to spend every day here. I am just a tad envious of those who work at a place like this.

To spend all your time with these ghosts of delight. What stories they must tell the gallery attendants while they stand fast on their station. No doubt the reality is far less romantic.

Picasso mesmerizes me. I can see the craft and the care in what, upon first glance, looks like an effortless, childlike render. But there is so much tenderness and terror in his work. I especially love his rendition of women. The way the strips away artificialty, but we still see her beauty.

On my mind is the fears the women in my life have over getting older. And I imagine that though Picasso was a notorious womanizer, he was really quite tender in saying, 'hey, quiet your fears, let me show you your beauty apart from the standard you've been trained to expect. Be phenomenal in the beauty of your heart. of the parts that make you. The eye, the ear, the breast, the hand, wrist... that quiet source of life, the way the arm meets the breast. No, the physical beauty of youth is wonderful, but there is equal or surpassing beauty in an aging form.

I am smitten by so many works. My phone is filling up with photos I will forget. But, two pieces have moved into the lexicon of my memory:

1. Swaying Dancers – Edgar Degas
2. Woman with a Parasol in a Garden – Pierre-Auguste Renoir

The first because I have always loved Degas. If I imagined myself as Jack on the largest ship in the world, a vagabond artist drifting through the streets of Paris drawing prostitutes and strangers, then I was FIRST in love with the idea of being Edgar Degas.

His pastels and his dancers are simply fantastic.

When I look up at the modest sized, but incredibly delicate Swaying Dancers, I start to weep.

It—it reminds me of her. My dancer and muse. It recalls the gift I gave her I do not know how many decades ago. A poorer duplicate of a similar masterpiece.

My first medium and love is pastels. Nothing dries... it is vibrant the instant you press to paper. I love the dust, the smell and the drawing-like finish a painting has. To me, there is no greater master than Edgar Degas.

And this piece is fantastic. Delicate and expressive. Pastel artists must have good draftsmanship skills, and Degas has otherworldly ability to capture anatomy and pose.

The painting is such a surprise after so many Picassoes, Pollocks, Kirchers, Groszs. The dancer is mid pose and her tutu is like gossamer with magenta beading. The background figures all have stories of their own and the colors talk to me. They say, 'we've been waiting, Wolf, and so glad you've finally found us.'

I can't look away.

One of the BEST parts of the museum is the real color you see. Not reproduced or managed. the same vibrancy, or muting that the artist intended. Or at least tried to. Their voice straight into your heart without mediator. Degas painting sing when you see them in real life. Reproductions just don't do them justice.

This one is an aria.

I stay a long time with the piece. And a few others by Degas.

The second work I find that blows me away is Pierre-Auguste Renoir's Woman with a Parasol in a Garden. The initial hook is the color and texture. What shocks me is how similar it is to Path Leading Through Tall Grasses that hangs in the Musee d'Orsey. I check to be sure I am not crazy and find that Parasol and Tall Grasses are very similar. It is very self-satisfying to make this identity.

I feel smart.

But, though I would love to be the kind of patron that gets to spend all night with these unique experiences, 7pm comes fast and with only 15m left, I am sad that it is time to go.

My stomach does not have the same desire to stay with the masterpieces.

And so, go we do. Suiting up in our winter gear, we head out into the evening looking for what I describe as 'Spaghetti an' meatballs!'

There are several Italian places close to the museum, but as we've been living in the Latin neighborhood for the last month, I have come to sort of resist the tourist areas for meals. They are more expensive, crowded and usually not better by any measure.

DINNER TIME

Thanks to a very clever AI, I learn there is a place about a 20m bus ride away called 'My Pasta, My Art'. And so away we fly.

It is in a new part of the city. One we haven't traversed. A little further way in a new direction. I am immediately drawn. It has the population load of the Latin quarter but the old world charm of the most popular part of the city. In short, the best of both worlds.

It seems we have discovered the Bohemian part of Madrid. Shot full of artists, galleries and music halls. It is wonderful. Every few buildings is some new creative energy. I realize: I have found where I need to explore next before we leave next week!

We spot 'My Pasta My Art', but are immediately drawn to a small bookstore with black cat. We cannot resist bookstores, and cute bookstores are just mandatory. This one, whose name escapes me, appears like a glowing white gem in the night with it's huge window showcasing books in the lower half, and giving an inviting view of the shop.

Stepping in, my eye goes to a small basket of old books. At top is a pulp fiction novel by Erskine Caldwell 'A Swell-Looking Girl'. I see it was originally published in 1931 and this is a reprint from 1950. The cover has a demure-looking blond girl with red lips and a power blue peasant dress. It is the kind of book that immediatly pulls me in. The cover illustration is heavy with shadow leaving plenty of negaive space for the ample text.

Since we are in Spain, I decide to purchase a small copy of Spanish poetry. It is good to practice my Spanish and will be a good opportunity to see how another culture thinks by translating them line by line.

The latest find is a 7th printing of Heinlein's 'Stranger in a Strange Land'. I read the opening paragraph:

Once upon a time there was a Martian named Valentine Michael Smith.

Yes. Please.

Since the store is buy two get one free, I am out the door for a paltry 11 euros. That is until my lovely finds the postcards, and I find the stickers and magnets. So much for 11 euros. We leave 55 euros lighter. But a pocket full of books and swag. No one is complaining.

Stepping into My Pasta, My Art, it has charm. Warm and tiny. Tiny is normal for Madrid. But this is the right balance of squeezing us in. We settle at a high top table and start gawking at the decor. It's clearly swinging for the Roman fences. And winning. Rich detail without being gaudy. Plenty of mirrors in the right places to make the space feel bigger than it is.

I note that the place is FULL of attractive you college age women. Dress is varying levels of casual dressy. One young woman catches my eye when she struts up to her table across the aisle and peels her coat off to a comply nude back. She is wearing a tube top very well. Her skin is even and smooth, unblemished with age or too much sun damage. Muscled and soft in the right balance. Her long dirty blond hair alternately hang over her right, then left shoulder to the front, then when the 6' 2' swarthy server comes, it is tossed back to swirl across the landscape of skin.

I see beauty in women of any age. But it is hard to deny the incredible power of the very young. How we all long for those bodies we had those many years ago. But I remind myself, that the costs that gave us the form we have in middle age also pay the dividend of wisdom and experience.

It is the paradox of this life to want both our youth and beauty but also the wisdom and massive heart that come with experience and age.

The staff here is outstanding. They feel fun and friendly and genuine. It is so refreshing to have this level of engagement. It reminds me that at one time people called this the hospitality business. Now they just call it job.

The meal is beyond excellent. Tremendous, even. I want wine. But since I've already been too loose with the vino, having drunk a full bottle of brut the night before, I opt for modesty. My body thanks me.

We linger and chat and I draw. The waitstaff is always complimentary of my draftsmanship. It is fast and sloppy, drawn in pen, the way I like it. Not perfect, but done. I always suspect they are just fishing for a nice tip. But I think about dancing in front of others. No one past puberty has anything but the utmost respect for those who perform in public. It is entertaining even when it is not very good.

I know what I am. But I also spent the day looking at drawings by my predecessors and know that you don't get in a place like the Thyssen by sitting still. Do the work, good bad or otherwise, it compounds and one day a magnum opus is complete and everyone thinks you just materialize as successful.

As we wrap with coffee and shared tiramisu, we realize it's time to make the trek home. My wife is in rare form tonight, never suggesting either taxi or uber, preferring instead to wander the streets until we find a metro or bus terminal.

Now that we are through the major holidays, the streets at night have that romantic quality I recall from Porto just a few weeks back. Damp cobblestones, neon signs and small clusters of comrades drinking coffees or beer. The mass of people that are ubiquitous further south are absent, having spent their holiday buying a million things.

Feeling amorous, I pull my partner in close and hold her hand. Stealing a kiss makes her laugh.

'What's gotten into you.' she giggles and nudges me away.

My affection isn't play, it's real desire. But we're on different levels tonight, so I redirect it to energy for kindness and head to the bus terminal down the street. Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is just being there with someone. Her love language is quality time. So tonight, this is how I honor her.

I wrap my scarf a little snugger against my face. It's a protection against the cold and the rebuff.

The day has not been perfect in the sense that there were no flaws. We started late, sometimes got aggravated with each other, ran out of time, got cold... etc. clunkiness of being human beings. But in the sense that it was exactly I needed: perfect.

The absolute hilight was the emotional gift Degas gave me. It is a moment I will carry with me for a long time, if not all my days. Deep moments with art stick with you in an indelible way. A stain on the soul of the very best kind.

---

#travel #essay #madrid #europe #art

It's been awhile since my last entry. I was hoping to write something for this series more frequently, but things got really busy and so here we are. A number of notable things happened in between that I wanted to write about.

Starting off with... I have a new rule for this series of blog posts; all journal entries should be written impromptu or on the spot. This means not copying previously written down notes or entries from my digital or bullet journal.

This is how I originally started writing journal entries in the past by the way. I would login to write.as at night and write a journal entry based on what was in my head at that time.

More of a brain dump, versus a routine that involved going over previous journal entries, then compiling them into one big journal entry/blog post.

Over time, as I got more into bullet journaling, this practice of writing a journal entry on the spot went away. It was replaced by writing a journal entry based on entries I've written down on my bullet journal or daily logs in Obsidian.

At first it was great. I had so much material, so many thoughts and ideas to write about. But as time went by, I noticed that blogging this way became more like a job for me. I lost that excitement that you get with writing something on the spot and then immediately sharing it online. Not to mention, it was a chore having to go through and filter previous daily log entries to find something I can copy or write about.

I'm not saying this method of writing is bad. It's just that for me, it was no longer working. It was no longer keeping the spark for blogging alive that is. And so that's why I'm going back to more impromptu writing with this series.

---

My eldest son joined the Sport Team at his Taekwondo school. I am of two minds about him joining.

I was hesitant about him joining, because of the financial expenses that came with joining a TKD Sport team. And yes, I can confirm that it is expensive. There's training fees, competition specific TKD gear (like the Daedo foot gear with the electronic sensor) you have to buy, competition registration fees, USATKD registration fees, etc... Not to mention, the increased transportation expenses from having to drive him back and forth to his training sessions.

On the other hand, seeing the training that he has to go through, I can only see it benefiting him as he grows up. Not just to make him better at sparring per se, but also to forge him into a person that is mentally tough and can handle anything life throws his way.

My son was so timid and shy by the way before he started doing Taekwondo. Now he's confident and willing to try out anything, well except food that is. We still need to work on that LOL.

And this is because the master he is training under is very strict. He's what I would call a “terror teacher” when I was growing up. He shouts and screams at you if you do the wrong thing. He expects the best out of his students and pushes them to their limits. He's not being unreasonable though. He is not training students to win a few local competitions here and there. No, he's training them to win competitions at the national level, with the ultimate goal of getting his students into the USA Taekwondo Olympic Team. The parents who let their kids join the Sport Team knows this. I know this although this is not the reason I let my kid join the team.

I let my son join the Sport Team because I feel like this is the best way for him to get more sparring training. They do sparring in their regular classes, but most of the sparring done there is pretty mild. I want my son to be able to handle someone coming at him aggressively, someone coming at him with the intent kick him in the head. I want him to be able to fend off an attacker like that. I don't really care about him winning national competitions, if that does happen then that would be just icing on the cake.

Now I know what most people will say. Taekwondo is not that good for self-defense. Hmm yes and no. Yes, there's a lot more to self-defense than just kicking and punching. Yes they punch in Taekwondo too. You score 1 point if you do in a sparring competition LOL. But I would dare you to take a roundhouse kick to the head from one of the more competent black belts, and then tell me if you think it is effective.

Anyway, Taekwondo as a martial art to me qualifies as one of the three self-defense skills he would need; namely striking. The other two skills being grappling and weapons training. You could substitute Taekwondo with any martial art that has striking, like Boxing, Karate, Muay Thai, Kickboxing, Krav Maga, etc... It just so happens that he does Taekwondo now and he really enjoys it, so why not help him really get better at it.

By the way, if you want to see a movie that showcases Taekwondo used in a self-defense setting, check out the movie “Officer Black Belt”.

Although the trailer above shows more Judo moves than kicks, there were a number of scenes in the movie where I thought Taekwondo was put to good use. There's this scene specifically, where the protagonist faced off against a guy with a knife. He used his Taekwondo skills to fight him off and subdue him.

It must be noted that they do teach the kids takedowns in my son's Taekwondo school, but they don't focus on it as much as they do with kicking.

Judo by the way, is the other martial art that I would like my kid to learn, but he's not interested, so I won't force him. Maybe I'll try to get him into BJJ. Either one will satisfy the other self-defense skill he needs, which is grappling.

So anyway, going back to talking about his master. He's old school like that and I have no problem with how he teaches. Honestly, I think everyone should experience a “terror teacher” at least once in their life. It toughens you up. Makes you more resilient. Helps you deal with pressure at work and in life in general.

I've had a number of “terror teachers” myself growing up. And while their classes were not enjoyable at times, I credit them with helping me develop the ability to think quickly and handle pressure at work.

---

Anyway, I wanted to write more but this post has gone long enough and the environment I'm in right now is no longer conducive for writing. Let me end with one pet peeve of mine: people talking loudly on their phone in speaker mode.

Talking loudly on your phone is bad enough, but in speaker mode, in a public setting, with people around you, that should be a crime. This is happening right now as I type. I can't imagine what the guy beside her is feeling right now. Must be using up all his energy to try and ignore her. Like seriously, invest in some headsets. Or you know, you could also turn off speaker mode and put the phone on your ear.

Jeez. Anyway, if you've gotten this far, I appreciate you for taking the time to read this piece. Hope you have a great year ahead of you. Peace!

#Journal #Blogging #Writing #SelfDefense #Taewondo #MartialArts #PetPeeve

Temptation brought me back to Twitter, and I left after seeing this.

I'll admit it: I missed Twitter.

Last year, I jumped ship from Twitter after Elon's on stage salutes. It just didn't feel right to me to be on that platform given his actions. It was sorta sad for me since I spent a decade or so on the platform and used to enjoy it quite a bit.

I gave into temptation in December last year and started to poke my head around. My home feed was pretty good! Zero politics (because of my filters) and only entertaining content.

Until I saw this...

I was quickly reminded why I made the decision that I did. The guy is a weak, pathetic, drug addict who has created nothing of his own. He just exploits the intelligence of others.

Besides, I've been enjoying posting on LinkedIn about elearning, LMSs, and edtech.

#personal

Looking back, I realise I wrote much more than I remember! 182 blog posts, mostly session reports, news about new releases, crowdfunding campaigns, and sales, and various challenges (Character Creation Challenge and RPGaDAY). Regardless, I am still a bit shocked by the volume.

I blog for fun, and write what I want when I want. Turns out I like to write more often than I thought! Looking at analytics, I see that the blog was visited 23 000 times. Five most visited blog posts in 2025 were:

1. Goodbye to Alarums & Excursions APA. Legendary RPG APA ceased publication last year, and this was my humble farewell. The post was picked up and re-shared in the blogosphere, resulting with many views.
2. Swords & Wizardry: White Box Editions. It seems that differences between various white box editions remains a popular topic.
3. Swords & Wizardry: Which Monster Book to Pick. A comparison of all major S&W bestiaries, including a monster index, is still bringing in traffic.
4. Swords & Wizardry: 400 Pregenerated Characters and 288 Equipment Packs. I love sharing useful material, so I am happy to see pregenerated characters and equipment packs used.
5. News: Ever & Anon roleplaying APA launched. Following the demise of Alarums & Excursions APA, we started a successor APA named Ever & Anon. The same focus, same contributors, and same dedication to do it for years to come.

Three of the above are posts from 2024, and I am happy to see they are still useful to people. Two were about big news and were circulated and picked up by others, which I believe contributed a lot of views.

After going through all the last year's posts, I would like to highlight the following five as my favourite posts of 2025:

1. Convention: Preparing for the Cauldron 2025. I pull the curtain on how I prepare for an OSR-focused con, from choice of adventures to why I choose OD&D to preparing supplemental material for players.
2. Convention: Cauldron 2025 Reflections. I share my thoughts on all three games I ran at the con—including the six hour marathon session with 24 characters and 17 players—as well as general impressions of Cauldron con. Spoiler: it was awesome. Get on the wait list for this year if you can.
3. 2025 Character Creation Challenge Day 31. 80 fourth-level OD&D characters ready for play.
4. Wilderlands Hall of Fame 2023. Wilderlands Hall of Fame represents the most legendary gaming situation of the year, as voted by the players in our Conquering the Barbarian Altanis campaign. This one was illustrated by FSF-INK.
5. Seventy Magical Weapons for Old-School Roleplaying Games. In 2023 year I rolled 70 magical weapons as part of the RPG Blog Carnival: Wondrous Weapons and Damning Dweomers. Since then several people asked me for a print-friendly PDF versions. So I made them!

What about this year?

I have decided not to participate in challenges as usual. I will focus instead on finishing old projects—Dragon Magazine reading list, S&W supplement, and two adventures for Fight On!—as well as supporting good people like Rob of Bat in the Attic Games, Matt & Suzy of Mythmere Games, Calithena & Iggy of Fight On! zine, and Jim of Ever & Anon.

This will be an exciting year.

#Blogging

Van Voorbijgaande Aard & De Elite Zonder Contract

treden vandaag op in het op afstandbestuurbare cultureel tele visie centrum

Mijn begeleiding stond vroeger bekend onder klinkerende titel amateur ex groep van liefdeswerk en oud papier, een beetje hipper ingekleurd maar tegenwoordig is mijn begeleidingsband stukken handiger verpakt ik noem deze horde mij getrouwen inmiddels “De elite zonder contract”

Ze komen keer op keer opdagen voor allerhande degelijke bijdragen nemen deel aan het strijdperk voor overwinningen en nederlagen in de hete harde wedde strijd voor kwaliteit en winnaarsmentaliteit maken ze zeer bondsgetrouw deel uit van mijn oorblog bestuursbeleid

Elitair en Zonder Contract godzijdank niet meer bestempeld als amateur ook al is het hetzelfde merk parfum maar met een heel andere geur Het kan allemaal dankzij de vreselijk ingenieuze mix van ingrediënten spelen met woorden gaat namelijk niet ten koste mijn overdosis centen

Je krijgt niks meer dan weinig tot niets ja alles is en blijft feitelijk gelijk maar ze hebben een heerlijk welluidende naam klinkend als het aardse slijk De elite zonder contract spelen voor mij bij de vele optredens de zalen plat terwijl ik een beetje op het podium blijf cirkelen rondom mijn enorme gat

Ik strijk met alle eer, doe later de leuke dingen en krijg cultuurlijk alle lof en als ik het alweer niet naar mijn zin heb kruipen zij door mijn stof Het is niet anders, 't heeft zo moeten zijn, het is door het lot duur betaald zij geboren om te spelen in het perk door mij en de mijnen zo bepaald

De elite zonder contract is een geweldige inwisselbare begeleiding de luchtige vulling van mijn steeds toenemende persoons vereer ring die amateur status ondertussen omgeruild voor een wat modernere naam en als dat niet meer voldoet noem ik ze De discipelen van het bestaan

of De meesters van het luchtledige, misschien De helden van de tijd Kranigen van de stroom, De hoogwaardigheidsbekleders van het tapijt De toonbaren van het bejubelde, De koningen van het ontroonbare, Tovenaars van het onverklaarbare, De heilige geesten van het ingevarene

Zo lang ze maar zonder zich te beklagen elke oorlog komen opdagen voor hun bijdrage aan de metersdikke stapel van onder en neder lagen noodzakelijk voor het innen van een eeuwige stroom aan geldbedragen die de toeschouwer schare met alle contractuele verplichtingen moet betalen

P.R. (Post Rijm)

...dit weer nodig voor de instandhouding van een kunstige schijnvertoning waar winst en verlies hetzelfde moeten voorstellen als de schat voor een koning strijden in het perk voor als slagroom opgeklopte eer zonder werkend geweten een uniek kijkspel aangemaakt om door je beschermheren te worden bezeten

Today is complex with cross-currents, so hold on to yourself. There are flows of openness and spiritual mastery running into draining thoughts, physical tension and self-suffocation. The seas are rough but the truth is that we are each at the centre of our experience and can stay right with the world if we stay open to it and remain calmly in our deepest sense of who we are. If you can't get there mentally, relax your grip of whatever you are holding too tightly or start a new routine that is more flexible than rigid.

Key emotions: touched, quiet, pessimistic, worry, guarded

GO HOOSIERS!

Later this morning I'll tune in to The Flagship Station for IU Sports ahead of this morning's NCAA men's basketball game between the Nebraska Cornhuskers and the Indiana Hoosiers. Start time is scheduled for 11:00 AM Central Time, but I'll listen earlier to catch pregame coverage as well the call of the game itself.

Our Father Who art in heaven Hallowed be Thy name Thy Kingdom come Thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven Give us this day our daily Bread And forgive us our trespasses As we forgive those who trespass against us And lead us not into temptation But deliver us from evil

Amen

Jesus is Lord! Come Lord Jesus!

Come Lord Jesus! Christ is Lord!

Good

A splice decurrent of time at rest Fingers riding ring and cross A golden good of refuge at war Maked in friend to speak and cherish Others seek- and this is will A time of gentle good Nary peace on that wall but willing here Men at rest, and some deride Why our days succumb as such But faithful good A prowess seen Daylight to day and witness from the home In errant light- refend our days- and this is war A morning deep and dressed as Mom Greatest hue- Sixteen of the walk and choosing day Fright to a play of men- Who are killing here Melee as stood to well and right Good to logic and tear the night Purpose apart defending day And young to wellness repose Right of death and East of dawn Sixteen of war and living breath Squanders be Solemn at entrance year Every entrance done and to unpoem Good is greatest And Woman be A neighbor finds the path The respite hour in silence Parked to war- ending war The purpose finds a Heaven To us below and camping here Good of street and men The daybreak calls Good is at sovereign rest above Accounts of day and nice Peace, solid day Ends of land and work repose Every dawn unto- Reward above For all, and Dove Through unto A picture calls a home Let us tire Seeks beyond recuse And there at last Solid will in pain To cause at last- A difference seen and made.

Rest in Heaven, Renee Nicole Good

The music section is the one with the most categories in the #JujuAwards! We did the Track of the Year, now we are doing the #AlbumOfTheYear, next we'll do the Act, the Ambient track, the Dance track and finally the Gig! (Apparently, this is some kind of teaser.)

Interestingly this year I listened to a lot of French musicians. Is nostalgia hitting me that hard? Is my midlife crisis reaching a new stage? Am I homesick?! I don't know but there is a lot of good stuff coming from my birth country.

Here are the 5 nominees.

Poèmes Pulvérisés by Léonie Pernet

I really liked Léonie Pernet's previous album, Le Cirque de Consolation. She is keeping the momentum, delivering the tunes and ever better lyrics – seriously good writing, actual poetry. She mixes electronic beats with African drums or classical instruments such as the piano and strings. She also diversifies the emotions between dance music, nostalgic ballads and chants from protests. A real trip. I especially enjoy the tracks Réparer Le Monde, L'Horizon Ose, Paris-Brazzaville and Nymphéas.

Contre-Temps by Flavien Berger

I'm so late with this, this album was released in 2018, I had briefly listened to it years ago but rediscovered it this year and it's full of good stuff, whether it's instrumental flights or lyrical puns, Flavien Berger shows his talents for a full hour on it. He also has duets with two other amazing French artists: the fiery Rebekah Warrior and the enticing Bonnie Banane. The tracks I would like to single out are: Brutalisme, Maddy La Nuit, and the title track, Contre-Temps.

Ultratonics by Ryoji Ikeda

Japanese multimedia artist Ryoji Ikeda came to Melbourne for the Now Or Never festival and graced us with his Ultratonics show which plays this album fully. It was a great experience in itself (I will talk about it further in the Gig of the Year section) but the music is just so amazingly well crafted. The level of detail, the experimentalism... A electronic masterpiece. My favourite tracks are the soberly named Ultratonics 01, Ultratonics 07 and Ultratonics 13.

Watt by Bertrand Belin

Don't you love a mononymous album title? Björk always names her albums with a single word. In fact, she even has an album called Volta, a name linked to electricity, like Watt. I barely knew Bertrand Belin before, I had heard a wee bit of his music ages ago but hadn't been charmed because I thought it lacked modernity, as in, it wasn't electronic enough to my taste. With Watt, he is definitely embracing the times while still keeping in character. He has aged since his big 2010 breakthrough, Hypernuit, and his voice is featuring something more vulnerable and it just makes it more raw and personal. I love being positively surprised by an artist's evolution. On this album, I especially enjoy the tracks Berger, L'Inconnu En Personne and Ni Bien Ni Mal.

Dance at Oscar's by C.A.R.

French and Canadian musician Chloé Raunet is back with a new album and is as good as ever. It's still her great electronic, almost brutalist self but she doesn't hesitate being downright funny or emotional this time. I'm very curious to see what she will do next. My faves are: The Pageant, Shyana and Anzu.

And the winner is... Poèmes Pulvérisés by Léonie Pernet! Wow! Woohoo! Aya! Yay! Etc.

#JujuAwards2025 #BestOf2025

Trump møter María Machado, hun lovpriser ham og gir ham Nobels fredspris. Som takk installerer han henne som president i Venezuela. Eventuelt kaster han henne bare på båten. Uansett har han «fått» fredsprisen som belønning for et militært angrep. Dette er ikke et usannsynlig scenario, det fremstår faktisk som det mest sannsynlige scenarioet akkurat nå.

I så fall vil nok tildelingen av Nobels fredspris 2025 stå igjen som en av de dummeste beslutningene Nobelkomiteen noen gang har gjort. Nobelprisen blir misbrukt til å legitimere USAs overgang til naken imperialisme uten noe skjær av legitimitet. Selv om Nobelkomiteen har formelt rett i at prisen ikke kan «gis videre» på denne måten, så burde de ha forstått at risikoen for et scenario som dette var stor.

Det var flere som advarte mot nettopp dette. Som påpekte at Machado både hadde støttet Trump-administrasjonens vilkårlige bombetokt i Mexicogolfen og oppfordret til militær inngripen. Det var også godt kjent at USA hadde stasjonert en stor militær styrke utenfor Venezuela da prisen ble utdelt. Kritikerne fikk rett.

USAs angrep på, og de facto maktovertagelse av, Venezuela, vil stå igjen som et skjebnesvangert øyeblikk der USA gikk fra å være en global hegemon som, i alle fall på papiret, garanterte for demokrati, menneskerettigheter og en regelstyrt verdensorden, til å bli en regional bølle som bruker sin stormaktsstatus til å underlegge seg andre land, og dermed også legitimerer mer krig og imperialisme i resten av verden. I dette mørke øyeblikket gjorde Nobelkomiteen det som i for ettertiden vil fremstå som det dummest tenkelige valget, nest etter å gi prisen til Trump selv.

Dagens komité har skjemt ut både fredsprisen og Norges omdømme i en skjebnetid for både fredssaken og demokratiet. De gjorde det sikkert med de beste intensjoner, men fadesen er like fullt et faktum. Det er på høy tid at Stortinget tar grep her, og sikrer høyere kompetanse og mer uavhengighet i prisen. Nobelkomiteen bør ikke bestå av politisk utpekte personer med til dels sterk ideologisk slagside, men av uavhengige eksperter med tilstrekkelig innsikt i fredsarbeid og relaterte felt, som faktisk er i stand til å bære denne viktige og stolte arven videre.