Daddy said… (14)



“You know what the problem is? Nobody appreciates all that I’ve made. That’s why I have to present the crap like a peacock!”

So I went out to have a look.

At first I took this message very personally, and I started looking at what my daddy had made. It didn’t take me long to figure out that my daddy’s real legacy was me, and that it was me presenting his ideas, not the other way round.

I soon realised that he wasn’t talking about himself, but about many of the inventors out there. Where are their attempts to make something good? Nowadays, the stuff you buy usually doesn’t do what is advertised. Water cookers that don’t shut off. Bread toasters that either make warm bread, or burnt scraps, but never toast. Operating systems that suck, vacuum cleaners that don’t

And yet, the companies selling these things present them as if they would make life better, instead of worse. They seem to believe it themselves, and we, the public, get punished for their feigned trustworthiness.

So was my daddy right?

I don’t think so. You can’t blame a paradise bird for its colours! You can’t blame a cat for acting like a diva! It’s not that nobody appreciates what is being made, it’s that the inventors are being pushed beyond the limit so what they make truly is crap.

To halt this arrogance, we need not be innovative, but smart. Don’t use lawnmowers as hedge cutters, as that will cost you all your fingers, and a lawsuit has already come to pass. Avoid personal injury, but use things what they were not meant for. Be creative. Grow flowers in a water cooker that doesn’t work properly. Boil water on an overheating CPU running a hung up computer. While your computer is at it, instead of the screen saver, fill up your old monitor with water and have a real Nemo in there. If you then can no longer read your favourite blog, just wait till it comes out as a real book so you can actually read them at your leisure, lying in bed.

Soon enough the people at the helm hunting for bigger profits with worse material, will understand that we’ve become creative with their crap, and don’t need their products that badly any more. Then they will hire true genius and the products on the shelves in your local shops will be truly useful again.

Previously posted on My.Opera, when they still had a blogging service. I’m rerunning the Daddy Said series here; when I feel like, I’ll write a new episode. This one I wrote in 2009; the seventh of the deadly sins.

Daddy said… (13)


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“You know what the problem is? The neighbour’s grass is always greener! That’s why I want to have theirs!”

So I went around and had a look.

And I found many different colours of grass. I saw green in Holland Park, Hyde Park, Lumpini Park and Wimbledon. To my great surprise, the green in Buckingham Palace was approaching brown; was that because of the recent application of manure?

No matter the state of fertilisation, nor the amount of green, I wouldn’t fancy any of the grass I saw. The only two that might have been interested in all the grass I saw could be Dolly the sheep and Gangotri the cow, had they been alive.

While also the late great Bob Marley would’ve enjoyed some of the grass I came across, my search was leading nowhere – now here! I’ve religiously watered my lawn throughout the dry season, while the neighbour’s withered away. Theirs is really brown, mine is greenish. While they go to work each working day, I have paid holidays. While they struggle to pay off their Tata, my Tesla is gleaming on the porch. While their computer still struggles with Windoze XP, I switched to Linux. And above all, while I am satisfied with everything I have in my life, they’re constantly struggling to catch up with the world’s latest fashions.

She has a latest generation mobile phone, he watches a wide high definition flat screen. Their kids go to school with their iPads, if they could ditch their uniforms they’d wear their latest brand-jeans. I wish I could give my son that!

So was my daddy right?

I don’t think so! You can’t blame my chameleon for being green on my lawn! You can’t blame a ruru for its invidiousness! It’s not my lawn’s fault it’s green! It’s mine!

As it is my fault that I would like to give my son an iPad, and a pair of nice quality jeans. But hey, my choices have been made. Stick with it. I don’t despise my neighbours for being able to spoil their roost. It’s been the hardest struggle though, and I don’t expect everyone to follow in my footsteps and suppress that emotion.

Be happy, there’s an easier way to prevent the feeling of invidiousness. One is only poor compared to the neighbours. One only desires what the neighbours have that you can’t afford yourself. The solution is simple: move to a place where the neighbours have less than yourself! The new home will be cheaper, and thus there’ll be even more left over to pamper and the kids, and yourself, and leave the neighbours’ state of well being behind.

Previously posted on My.Opera, when they still had a blogging service. I’m rerunning the Daddy Said series here; when I feel like, I’ll write a new episode. This one I wrote in 2009; the seventh of the deadly sins.

Daddy said… (12)



“You know what the problem is? There’s so much evil going around in this world, it’s impossible not to get angry.”

So I went out and had a look.

It was very easy to find evil all around. I fount totalitarian dictators, put into power by the so called international community, running a bloody regime. Then this aforementioned international community feigns concern, and overthrows their own former puppet, only to let the little bit of structure in the country collapse into total chaos, making the country even more dangerous for the locals.

I found people that this was only a play, staged for the profit of the rich and powerful at the time. This however seems as far fetched, as are the stories our governments want us to believe.

Closer to home, I found people being beaten to bits because of their looks, or killed because of their shoes. I found people who couldn’t realise that no matter how relative the passage of time, we’re locked into it; thus scarring children for life.

Plenty or reason for at least some agitation, but the abounding emotion I found was complacency.

So was my daddy right?

I don’t think so! You can’t blame a crow for holding a grudge! You can’t blame well fed cat for being complacent! It’s not the lack of reasons that prevents people from getting angry; it’s the over-abundance of it. There’s so much evil in the world, that there’s no choosing what to get angry about. It would be hypocrite to try and stop military invasions, but to ignore military dictators. It would be rude to support the death-penalty for rapists, but not try and prevent rape. Yet not a person alive is capable of carrying all the world’s sins on his shoulders, and fight to solve them. The only one who allegedly managed, lived ages ago, and found it a heavy burden too!

It seems even, that we all together aren’t able to do so. Even though there are some well meaning initiatives to try and stop one or the other problem from happening, passionate people about it are rare and far between. Until it hurts us directly, it’s easiest to crash on the sofa and browse Netflix to ignore the pain coming in over the tube.

And there you have it. Not enough people are angry for it to become a problem; actually a little more anger would solve a lot of problems. Today my daddy is so wrong, his ignorance should be a sin. Get angry, people! Angry at all that is wrong in the world, and through that, make it a better place!

Previously posted on My.Opera, when they still had a blogging service. I’m rerunning the Daddy Said series here; when I feel like, I’ll write a new episode. This one I wrote in 2009; the sixth of the deadly sins.

Daddy said… (11)



“You know what the problem is? Sinners are too lazy even to go to confession. That’s why so many of them die!”

So I went around and had a look.

First I dove into the cinematography, to familiarize myself more with the topic. Very enlightening was indeed the film Se7en, although the ultimate sinner in the end wasn’t a lazy bugger at all.

Then I hung around Catholic churches. The most interesting thing I found there, was that most people pass by the place. I asked several people for their opinion, and while some answered Allahu Akbar, Dominus vobiscum, or something of a similar meaning, others were extremely ignorant on the matters of higher faith.

Only when entered a boardroom did I find a knowledgeable guy peeling an onion in the shape of the chair. The chair turned out to be a big sinner, but voodoo turned out not to be an adequate punishment.

All in all, I found very few lazy people out on the road – other than those taking the car to go a quarter-mile – and I found even fewer people coming in for confession.

So was my daddy right?

I don’t think so. You can’t blame a sloth for er… well, for being itself. You can’t blame a termite for his ability to take down the house. It’s not the sins for which the sinners die! It’s not even the sinners alone who die; it’s all of us that die. Death’s just a fact of life, inherent to birth.

So why are they called mortal sins? Just to scare us? I think there’s another reason. I think it’s not because committing them actually kills us, but because committing a mortal sin destroys all our chances to reach true happiness. Have you, for example, ever seen a happy man staying in bed all his life?

Comfortable, such a man surely is, but happiness comes with living a full and fulfilling life. And staying in bed, doing nothing, isn’t the way to get just there.

The solution for this is surprisingly simple: buy chilli peppers. And anyone you see being a lazy cunt, just quickly and quietly put one of them where the sun doesn’t shine. This is even more effective than ants in the pants!

Previously posted on My.Opera, when they still had a blogging service. I’m rerunning the Daddy Said series here; when I feel like, I’ll write a new episode. This one I wrote in 2009; the fifth of the deadly sins.

Sunshine blogger award


I had joined wordpress quite a few years ago. It was dormant for a long time, but early 2020 I took a serious shot at reviving it. And I am engulfed by the response and feedback received from other co-bloggers. This place is full of positivity with no standard dogma to express your thoughts. I will like to thank each one of you for your endless love, encouragement and appreciation.

• Thank the person who nominated you and link back to their blog.
• Answer the 11 questions asked by the one who nominated you.
• Nominate 11 bloggers and ask them 11 new questions.
• Notify the nominees.
• List the rules and display the Sunshine Blogger Award image in your post.

Thank you Sheena Manocha 😇😇 – I am humbled and honored by the fact that that I was nominated for this prestigious award for the first time by Sheena Manocha of The other Aspect. As I state on my Dutch author’s website: ‘I write for my entertainment. And for yours’. It touches me that you are entertained by it!

Sheena has a nice way of putting things into perspective, and quite often in a way you hadn’t thought of yet – but with a sound ring of logical truth to it.

Questions Sheena Manocha asked me.

  1. What are some words or phrases you use most?

Well, I try my best to diversify when I write. Most things I post I reread twice, and if I find that I use the same word too often, I look for other ways to say it… Having said that, something I say often to my students, who can’t leave their smart phones alone, is: “If she can’t wait for you, she isn’t worth it! Now put down your phone, and listen to me.”

2. What do u prefer: blogging or fun chat with friends?

What friends?

3. Which language you want to learn?

None at the moment. I speak Dutch, English and Thai fluently. I can get by in Germany (though my German is not approaching anything called ‘good’). I’m very poor at learning languages when I’m not around people who don’t speak it to me all the time, so if I were to learn a new language, I’d have to migrate – again. What I’d love to learn for its pronunciation is Xhosa, or another language with clicks in it. Another language I’d like to master, but this time because its structure interests me is Turkish – as it doesn’t only have pre- and suffixes, but also infixes (and many other word forming options none of the languages I speak have). I fear I’ll never learn them, though. I’m not in the mood to migrate.

4. Name a movie which you can relate to? Why?

Tierra. It’s an old movie, and I haven’t seen it in a while. But it’s a lovely depiction of the vile choice between heavenly Love and earthly Love. Which do we go for? Having read the above, you’ll know I’ll have to watch this movie with subtitles; which is a pity, as translations are always wrong.

5. Your favourite cuisine?


6. Which post of my blog do you like the most and why?

The hardest question, as there are a few good ones to chose from. I’m very touched by this one, though.

7. What can totally impress you?

Places and things are irrelevant, it’s moments and people that need to be cherished. Create me a moment, be a special person, and I’m impressed.

8. If you could be teleport then which place it would be?

If this were a regular thing, for me, I’d eliminate my commute. I’d no longer take planes, trains or cars for holidays. If this were a one time thing… I’d not use it, because I’d have no way to get back. If I could do a return trip once, I’d teleport to another earth-like planet, to see if we’re alone – or not.

9. If you could have a super power then what you would be?

I am a teacher. What is your super power?

10. Who is your go to person? How are you related to them?

For fifteen years, I had one. She bore me two children, and then died on me. Last year, I thought I’d found a new one, but that was an illusion. I am floating, right now – my go to place is my pen.

11. Your residing place? Any finest place where you often visit?

The Netherlands, somewhere in the center of that country, but it’s so small, any place is nearby (the shortest car drive out if this country from my home is an hour and a half, the longest 3 hours, if you drive nothing but highways in one direction). I love to visit the river Waal, close to my home, and do so often. Every other year, though, I get to visit my favourite place in the whole world: khao phlai dam.

My nominees

Brian Langeose of Bonnywood Manor
Shaunak of Surreally Jibberish
Anushk@ of pillow_thoughts
blahblahblahjm of Bits of things that pop into this mind
WildHeart of Wild Scared Crazy
Tomboysdontcry of some day never comes (he’s not blogged for ages, but I still respect his work!)
And finally, yes, I know, I break the rules by not nominating 11, a blogger who I’ve only just started following, but whose writing I like very much: Erroneous Choices of Choices in Error.

Apologies to all the others I follow; I’m picky at what I read, and even pickier at what I enjoy.

My questions to the nominees

As I’ve only nominated 7, I’ll stick to 7 questions…

  1. What is your favourite post on your own blog, and why?
  2. What is wrong with you; why do you like spiders (if you’ve seen my posts from the beginning of the year, I know I am sick, but why you? This, of course, is tongue in cheek) or my narrow minded daddy? In other words – which series that I have posted appeals to you most?
  3. Poetry or prose? Elaborate.
  4. Blogs or books? Or both? And if both, in what setting do you prefer which?
  5. What is your favourite piece of word art you’ve ever laid eyes on (be it a book, a poem, or anything else artistic comprised of words)? Link please!
  6. What do you slow down for? What do you cancel all stressful things in life for?
  7. Cats or dogs? Why?

Daddy said… (10)



“You know what the problem is? If I don’t have what you have, it makes me less of a man. That’s why I need to have everything…”

So I went to my neighbours and had a look.

Turns out, many of the things I have in my home, my neighbours have too! A TV, a tablet, a car, and guess what, they also had a bed! Not to mention the telephone, the table, a pile of books and some pictures on the wall. Then I explored their garden, and found several plants I didn’t have. One of them was a plant which the neighbour claimed was a natural amphetamine, something I thought would be a good idea to have in my garden too!

Then I thought I’d do a little experiment. I told them I’d just won the lottery, and so much money was way too much for me alone, so I thought of sharing it with them. If they’d be interested…

Instantly the groveling started. Shooore they were interested! And they’d do lots for it. When I asked them what they were thinking of doing with the money, they revealed plans to retire. Stash the money and live off the interest. This surprised me…

So was my daddy right?

I don’t think so. You can’t blame a giraffe for its long neck! You can’t blame a chameleon for changing its colours! Looking like we’re less than the neighbours isn’t the reason for our avarice. We’re not after the things our neighbours have, we’re after money.

Then I wondered if the acquisitiveness stops with having enough to retire, like it seemed to be with my neighbours. It didn’t take me long to realise that that isn’t the case. Many people keep on gathering, beyond usefulness, beyond any limits of reason. And one look at how our capitalist society works, showed me why.

Wealth brings perceived freedom. What is more, wealth brings power. The more we have, the more people bend to our wishes, and the feeling of power is a deliciously addictive one; if corrupting.

Ridding the world of avarice, is simple: detach power from money. I’m not calling for socialism. That is perhaps the furthest humans can develop themselves away from the animal kingdom, it is unnatural, and therefore as of yet unattainable. No species takes care of the weak.

No, just make money a unit for goods, and not for effort. Effort can only be repaid by effort; you do something for me, I do something for you. This way money can no longer hold power over individuals, and thus soon our desire for it will diminish.

Previously posted on My.Opera, when they still had a blogging service. I’m rerunning the Daddy Said series here; when I feel like, I’ll write a new episode. This one I wrote in 2009; the fourth of the deadly sins.

Daddy said… (9)



“You know what the problem is? I’m too darn hungry to think. That’s why there’s never enough!”

So I bought him a mirror, and let him look.

When my daddy was young, he was strikingly handsome; something that probably has some relationship to the cause for my existence, but that’s a whole other story. Now he’s large, going on obese. And the reason is simple: there isn’t a kitchen in the world which he doesn’t like.

Together, we’ve been around the world. No matter where we went, he always found something nice in the food.

When certain curries looked predigested, he took to them like there was no tomorrow. Turns out there was, but that was the day to try deep fried cockroaches, or were they grasshoppers? Elsewhere we were fed boiled sheep trotters. The mere thought of where they’d been made me gag. So did he, I thought, but it was on the lump of fat that got stuck in his throat. The most ironic meal we ever had together, was stuffed stomach.

On all those journeys, on all those days where the single purpose was to find a decent place to dine, I never heard him complain about hunger. Only now that he doesn’t travel any longer, because he’s too stingy to buy two plane tickets, he says he is.

So was my daddy right?

I don’t think so. You can’t blame a wolf for his consumption manners! You can’t blame a lizard for eating little! It’s not hunger that drives us to obesity. My daddy got big, for the same reason a dog licks his balls. Or perhaps as a misplaced tribute to the goddess Adephagia.

Now that it’s probably to late for me to come to the rescue, I’ve discovered a very simple way for us outsiders, to keep our dear friends and family from over indulging. While you can make a dog stop licking his balls through castration, the approach with humans needs a little more subtlety.

All it takes is a big box of stink bombs, always at the ready. When desert becomes overdue, and the seventh or so course still has our dinner partner gobbling down more, simply break one or two vials, and throw them on the next dish. This is best done while the waiter carries it in, and you are on your way to the toilet. Not only will the stink prevent any further eating, the subsequent glass in the dish will most likely provide you with a free meal!

Previously posted on My.Opera, when they still had a blogging service. I’m rerunning the Daddy Said series here; when I feel like, I’ll write a new episode. This one I wrote in 2009; the third of the deadly sins.

Daddy said… (8)



“You know what the problem is? When wife becomes mother she sags. That’s why daddy sticks it in anyone else.”

So I went out and had a look.

Living in Thailand didn’t make it hard to find places of fornication, and I found many men with a wedding ring frequenting these places. Inside the more upmarket places, the girls were amazing. Slim, young, beautiful and as service oriented as #Six once was; just how any man wants his pleasure served. The men frequenting these places, were always rich, and when asked after their spouses, most of them produced pictures of truly stunning women, albeit slightly older than the slags in front of them.

In the more budget zones, where sin doesn’t only happen during the proper hours of the night, many of the girls available were young and willing too, but some were ass sagging as my father suggested. Also here many a married man showed up. These men were more reluctant to show pictures of their wives; most didn’t carry any, excusing themselves with ‘you wouldn’t want to see her anyway’. Surprisingly enough, most of them could afford the upmarket places.

So was my daddy right?

I don’t think so. You can’t blame a dog for nailing every bitch he can sniff up to! You can’t blame penguins for marrying! Men don’t sleep around because their wives aren’t willing or no longer pretty. Nor do they appear particularly proud of some of their out of home activities. They do it for an eternal desire for something different; something mysterious.

To stop men from hunting out the door for the satisfaction of their carnal cravings, we don’t have to resort to extravagant role plays, as it may very well disappoint. No, it’s much easier to keep a man from sleeping away from home.

In the beginning, it isn’t so hard, as the wife still has unknown nooks, and there’s enough mystery to be had there. But soon enough, other mysteries have to show up at home, otherwise the reason to come home becomes weaker and weaker. Wives in Thailand know some drastic measures, but less painful is just hiring a new maid every once in a while. Especially a young and pretty maid will do wonders. Now, instead of sleeping out the door, the husband has a great reason to come home: a maid with her own bedroom and queen sized bed…

Previously posted on My.Opera, when they still had a blogging service. I’m rerunning the Daddy Said series here; when I feel like, I’ll write a new episode. This one I wrote in 2009; the second of the deadly sins.

Daddy said… (7)



“You know what the problem is? Too many women have slept their way to the high reaches of success. That’s why we judge all books by their covers!”

So I went out and reflected.

At first I looked back, and I didn’t need to go far back, to find one that perfectly fit my daddy’s complaint. A woman who worked her way to great heights on the social ladder through the lust and desire of powerful men. A woman of whom it’s debatable if she deserves the sympathy she gets, and a woman who has inspired many around the globe, to pay more attention to the way they look. The lady in question, of course is Mata Hari.

But I didn’t end my search here; I looked a bit further back, and realised that already since Adam and Eve we have been conscious about our appearances. They started covering themselves! Be it out of shame, they still tried it gracefully!

So was my daddy right?

No, I don’t think so. You can’t blame a rabbit for doing it often! You can’t blame a peacock for its feathers! It’s not the successfully promiscuous’ fault that we’re judged by the way we appear – and thus pay more attention to how we ourselves appear in the mirror. They’ve only abused the system to reach powerful positions; but I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, power is the real magnet. For power, we’ll do anything! Including dressing up and slimming down.

As real beauty is still rare (if it wasn’t, it would instantly become normal), what is there to do for us ugly lot? The answer is in the question: we are with many, thus we have the power. Don’t accept it any longer that we’re expected to look our best, to get the best positions. Don’t accept it from the good-looking lot that they can tell us what to do, no questions asked. I suggest a revolt against the tyranny of beauty. All this requires is uniform ugliness, and the best way to do this is to adhere to a strict dress code. Use orange socks as earrings, wear a bright red clown’s nose when in public, and for those in colder climates, top that with a bright pink hat; all the same for men, women, boys and girls.

It will take a while, but sooner or later, this message will have spread to the whole world, and the power will no longer lie in the hands of those sinners addicted to the mirror!

Previously posted on My.Opera, when they still had a blogging service. I’m rerunning the Daddy Said series here; when I feel like, I’ll write a new episode. This one I wrote in 2009; the first of the deadly sins.

Daddy said… (6)



“You know what the problem is? Now that men and women are equal, they don’t have time for each other any more, so men take out their sexual frustration on those who do have time…”

So I went out and had a look.

I did indeed find many a couple who lived in the same house, but spent barely any time together because of demanding jobs. Most of them would, when asked in passing, spend more time with the other if they could. And the more demanding the job, the lower the cheating rate. With hindsight, I found that rather easy to understand: it takes free time to consider one’s co-workers.

My search was going nowhere, as I was only encountering people with a lack of time, but no one displaying any sexual frustration; the worst frustration I found was regarding the inefficiency of certain companies. And only then a very sinister thought hit me. There is a certain time in life when we have all the time in the world. And that is not a time during which you can enter every part of the video-store.

I barely dared research this, for fear of ending up traumatised, so all I did was scratch the surface. And what came up was shocking enough. I am aware that some people get off on the weirdest things, but how can it be enjoyable if you walk away from the act with nothing but a humongous sense of guilt?

So was my daddy right?

It appears not so. You can’t blame a dog for mating whoever when the time is right! You can’t blame a grey-crowned babbler for doing his sister! But animals lack the sense of right and wrong, like we do. And even animals wait till the potential partner’s age is right.

Now that being busy is ruled out to prevent children from being scarred for life, what can we do to prevent this horror? Pointing out that it is unnatural, is also useless, as man does so much that isn’t natural…

It doesn’t take money, or pledges. It doesn’t take an ingenious police force, nor candles lit in commemoration. Candles, by the by, are far too romantic for such an horrendous act. All we need to do is educate all people properly on the passage of time, and that children, too, have the right to liberty – liberty to choose freely. Even though everything is relative, we can’t all enjoy the same experiences at the same time. A child needs to circle the sun a couple of times before it can withstand our desires; it first needs to be educated to know what the freedom to choose entails. We are three dimensional beings, locked in the fourth. Do things at the appropriate time only. It’s not that hard to understand…

For those readers young enough no to know what a video-store is, or was… It was a place where you had to go to get a thingy, take that thingy home, in order to watch a part of Netflix.

Previously posted on My.Opera, when they still had a blogging service. I’m rerunning the Daddy Said series here; when I feel like, I’ll write a new episode. This one I wrote in 2009. I decided to repost it now, as I read in the news that for years there was a pedophile network running with the foster care system in Berlin.

Daddy said… (5)



“You know what the problem is? This whole world is up-side-down: we go on working-holidays, and we have a holiday on ‘labour day’. That’s why there’s paid leave, but still unpaid labour!”

So I went up above, and down under, and had a look.

The Australian embassy advertises working-holiday visas. People actually go on holiday to that place, to work. But that’s not so bad, in a way. These wourists (working tourists), actually get paid for their efforts. Not everyone is so lucky.

Here’s a scenario. You’re a city kid, love your parties, and your friends. Your biggest possession is a large piece of land, ready to grow rice, somewhere in the sticks. You hate the sun, you hate labour, and worse, you need your money for your parties. As rice doesn’t grow by itself, you get some people to grow it for you; and if it doesn’t grow well enough, you whip them. That sounds like a decent solution, doesn’t it?

This is how it still goes, in many places around the world. There are all kinds of slaves. There are house-slaves, field-slaves, factory-slaves, mine-slaves, wage-slaves, sex-slaves and indentured servants. Most of these imply work without pay. Some work with pay, but not nearly enough. And despite the good initiative by the Roman Empire in 388 AD, there still are many work-slaves the world over.

So was my daddy right?

I don’t think so. Yes, many things in this world are upside down, but you can’t blame a bat for roosting that way! You can’t blame an ant for its working habits! Slavery isn’t caused by us working down-under, or by the Chinese having a week off around May first!

But therein does lie the answer. Man wasn’t made to lie around and do nothing. It’s not healthy, not for spirit, nor for body. Man was made to be active, and thus we should spend our holidays, and thus not be dependent on goods produced by slaves – or pay a fair price, so a fair price can be paid for labour. To stay healthy of mind and body, we could first clean our own house, then grow our own food, pay every employee a fair share of the bonus that would otherwise have gone to the CEO, masturbate more and do at home whatever indentured servants do. The only slaves we still have are the factory and mine-slaves; but I’m guessing that, with the bonus money, we can afford a fair price – and insist Apple stops using slaves.

If everyone who can choose whether to serve or be served on May first, does something like this, soon enough everyone in the world will have this choice, and slavery will truly be a thing of the past.

Previously posted on My.Opera, when they still had a blogging service. I’ve updated the technology, here and there, and added some links to news stories. I’m rerunning the Daddy Said series here; when I feel like, I’ll write a new episode. This one I wrote in 2009.

Daddy said… (4)


, ,

“You know what the problem is, insomniacs are just too lazy to work hard enough to get tired during the day, so they can’t sleep at night!”

So I went to bed and tried it. I took a pile of books with me, and a Nintendo Switch to stay awake. This was the laziest way I could think of. I read – slowly, easy reads books, you know the ones that are TV in your hands. I played, games for six year-olds (I am no longer six). And I stayed awake. I had room service bring me food three times that day, and something to drink. And I stayed awake. But guess what, when I reached 24 hours with my eyes open, I was tired. I could’ve slept there and then, but I didn’t give up.

I started reading Catch 22, and when I was close to 36 hours awake, I came across a guy who dreams that he can’t sleep, and wakes up so tired that he falls right back to sleep. I forgot his name, but he must be the ultimate insomniac; someone with a messed up mind.

So was my daddy right?

It doesn’t seem so! You can’t blame a Koala for needing sleep to digest its food! You can’t blame an owl for hunting at night! I did nothing, stayed awake, and I still got tired!

No, insomnia must have another cause, one that can not be faked. A song stuck in your head, can be the obvious cause, but it’s just a symptom of an underlying bit of stress. Stress makes you unable to relax, and if you can’t relax – sleepless nights automatically follow.

But insomnia can be solved, and for the solution we should turn to the infinite wisdom in the tales of the life of Mohammad, the prophet.

It is said that when someone complained to him that this someone couldn’t sleep, he advised to take many animals into the sleeping quarters. Among which were cows, pigs, geese and chickens. This only caused the said insomniac to be unable to sleep due to the fidgeting of the zoo. When he returned to the prophet, He ordered the animals removed, and due to the sudden silence, the person slept soundly.

The wisdom here is invaluable to any insomniac. Just live through several nights with as many distractions in the bedroom or sleeping quarters as possible. A zoo is a seven hundred years old solution. Other methods can be attempted these days; a female dog with an Abyssinian cat springs to mind. This will pretty much automatically relieve you of a lot of stress, and the added exercise will most certainly create the right conditions for a good night sleep.

Of course for the female insomniacs, I would suggest large roosters, and to stay away from spiders; but the effect is the same.

Previously posted on My.Opera, when they still had a blogging service. I’ve updated the technology, here and there. I’m rerunning the Daddy Said series here; when I feel like, I’ll write a new episode. This one I wrote in 2008, with some added details to fit 2020. This particular post appears now, as the topic reminded me of WildHeart’s poem.

Daddy said… (3)



“You know, the problem with the world is, there are too many the foreigners. They’re all taking our jobs, and on top of that, they’re too lazy to work!”

So I went out and had a look.

I stepped outside my door, and to my great surprise, I found foreigners absolutely all over the place. The fact that I don’t live in the country I was born in, may or may not have contributed to the fact that most of the people I found were alien to me; about 4 to 5 foot tall, with black hair and squinty eyes.

None of them had my job though, and they were all quite busy – if it was work they were doing, I couldn’t tell. There were obviously more foreigners here than in my own country; in the hour or so I walked around my house, I saw only one other like myself…

Then I zoomed out, and found places where people of different colour lived together, yet neither was considered a foreigner. And there too, most people appeared busier than bees. Especially those paid very little for their efforts worked really hard. It seemed to me that the more money they had, the less they did! And also, apparently, the darker the skin, the more often they got shot. If that were my family, I would riot too…

So was my daddy right?

I don’t think so. You can’t blame the pig for walking forward when you pull its tail! You can’t blame Garfield for liking lasagne! Everyone is a foreigner somewhere, and you can’t blame the foreigners for being too lazy to work. The only thing that made Garfield move, was a guilt trip about a dog he secretly loved. The only thing that’ll make us move, is something we all love. It comes in many colours and shapes, sizes and actions. And it truly is the only thing man will do anything for! They’d do it with each other, they’d even do it with a spider; they’d even do it if it killed them.

It’s interesting to see that it is a dog-in-a-manger kind of jealousy taking hold of my daddy. This happens when someone whom he considers an outsider is trying to get a fair share for himself, instead of baking in a cardboard box somewhere on a footbridge in Thailand, or getting suffocated somewhere in Minneapolis. It’s interesting to see that even though my daddy pays more tax in a month, than the average Thai makes in a year, he’s so scared of some Thais sharing his wealth. It seems it’s not the foreigners that need fixing, it’s my daddy.

While they say it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks, it is easier than that to get those people who hate people to be more loving. Everyone who’s open minded enough to see we’re all foreigners somewhere, should love a foreigner. Nicely, tenderly. Gently. Or not so tenderly, if you’re both into that, but most certainly out in the open, show you’re together. Spread the love, and the action. Show the world how enjoyable a foreigner you can be! And before you know it, this confuses the narrow minded the world over into oblivion.

And on top of that, it’s very pleasant indeed! Also for the onlookers.

Adapted from a previous post on My.Opera, when they still had a blogging service. I’m rerunning the Daddy Said series here; when I feel like, I’ll write a new episode. This one I wrote in 2009, with some added details to fit 2020. Disclaimer: the casual racism is on (literary) purpose, and does not reflect my true beliefs about humans the world over.