How I Know That Belgians Are Crazy

Fresh from the brain of grafunkel, a Belgian artist of not-insignificant talent, we learn that pirates steal Belgian children and how we're going to kill him one day:

This weekend was a genuine birthday-fest at Grafunkel’s. 17th mine, 18th my daughter’s, 19th my son’s birthday. I kinda celebrated mine a month ago already, along with Wendy’s (27th november). Lukas had a little party for his friends a week ago, and this saturday we had the children’s birthday party for the family. Chinese take-away and our pretty pretty cutlery and pretty pretty china. Good enough. Heh.

Kaat’s maybe not quite old enough yet, but I’m noticing that december is getting a bit too much for Lukas.

First of all, december 6th: “Sinterklaas” or the original birthday of Saint Nicholas, or Santa Claus. The greek/turkish christian bishop climbs on rooftops with his white horse, along with his black helpers (“Zwarte Piet”, or “Black Pete”: probably based on Turkish sailors) to bring the good children toys, ginger bread, chocolate and oranges, the bad children are put in Black Pete’s empty bag of toys... lovely, innit? So Lukas and Kaat get their toys, ‘cause they’re good, of course... And they get toys from the grandparents, ‘cause, well, Sinterklaas has come to their house too... aaaaand he’s visited a couple of aunts and uncles too, so...

Just over a week later, it’s their birthdays, and so again there’s a wrapping-paper-frenzy... from friends, family, neighbours... So by now he’s getting somewhat blunted by the whole avelange of presents. When he gets them he just stands there with a blank stare. Almost sad, actually. Like the magic of that moment is just lost ‘cause of the overkill. It’s like the difference between going to Disneyland, and living in Disneyland.

And next week’s Christmas, with no Santa Claus (he brought presents at our house when I as a kid, but I’m boycotting him ‘cause he’s a total culturally-non-relevant “festivity”, imported here to boost commerce inbetween Sinterklaas and New Year, the same way Halloween is being imported here at the moment... AARGH!!! But that’s a whole other story...Heh heh heh), but still with some (minor!) presents underneath the christmas tree, that get handed out at New Year’s Eve... Hey! Wow! More presents!

In MY younger years I got presents from my parents, and a nicely filled envelope on New Year’s Eve from my grandparents, but other than that... nada... and I was happy.

I remember when I was young, mumble mumble, rant rant...

Fuck, rambling like an old coot, and I’m only 29.

You guys’ll all have un-friended me by the time I get to 70.

Or killed me.

With grenades.

Lots of grenades.

( He also does artistic commissions, so click here for examples, if you're interested in original batshit insane Belgian art. Each piece comes with a spare bag of those little dots they put over the second y that they've arbitrarily nailed onto the end of their alphabet. )

Now go commission some art and then do something productive, you weird little monkeys.

b

(no subject)

"...a cleaning woman is spraying the leaves of a plant with an acrid lemon scented spray, and then wiping them clean...leaving them as shinny as newly armoraled tires. I cant help but think,....this is what its come to. The false immortality of a plant, cleaned by a woman that was most likely born in another country, where forcing a plant to smell like a lemon is the most absurd thought one could have, and yet this is my home..."

-- a Bit of Truth from violet_hemlock while I work on the new Sir Reginald piece