Marine Iguana from the Galapagos islands

Pastels on paper

Lady with serious face

acrylics on paper

The walker

acrylics on paper.

Waiting for a doctor`s appointment.

Amsterdam,

So there I am, back in my old house, my dirty and covered in cow manure farm clothes still covering my unwashed body. I should take a hot shower, have a shave and put on fresh clothes for my hospital appointment at 15.30 h. But iunstead I find myself in this crappy old house I have lived in since returning to Holland in 1995, smelly and trembling, too lazy to even get up from my chair....the effects of my latest Mary-Jane addiction strong and demanding...a quick walk to the neighborhood`s coffeeshop would take care of my addiction needs...no more bodily shivers but big disappointment of having given inn to green colored mental inducement to laziness.

However, the idea of having to face my doctor stoned out of my mind does not appeal to me. No way to hide my mental trip...my enlarged eye balls will be a dead give away and anyway, are doktors not trained to see "certain things"!!!

Not that I should have any reason to complain. I mean the society I live in takes care of the bills, the bills that keep me alive, the expensive medical care my ravished physic needs to keep going in the here and now...my only payback to Dutch society, a few half days of hard work at the animal farm for children, hard and honest ARBEIT to ensure my rights for the Dutch dole...

Fair enough, square and fair...a few difficult hours without the mind dulling effects of expensive grass, green stained marijuana pods promising paradise on earth, though in truth only inside my european skull.

Theo Van Gogh, five years later!!!

Amsterdam,

Last monday it was exactly five years ago since the ritual slaughter of the Dutch freethinker, big mouth, the man who liked to kick against the establshed pillars of Dutch society and who according to many, was on a personal crusade against the Maroccan inmigrant colony aka - in Theo`s mind - The Fith Convoy of Goat Fuckers...

His messy death might well have been the real kick off for extreme right in Holland like Geert Wilders, or else the beginning of the end for the infamous and equally notorious - abroad any way - Dutch knuffel kultuur, basdically lets smother them with our love and hope they will adapt, get a job instaed of the comfortable Dutch dole, hope they will forget and quit their naughty street behaviour, stop pickpocketing innocent tourists and hunt down the Dutch Santa Claus in noverber/december, maybe a bit of fun stealing a lady`s handbag while she is waiting for a red traffic sign...

The eternal sigarette was Theo`s trade mark, the happy and healthy smoker, light one sigarette with the butt of the last one, keep the public debate going and get a bit of enlightenment on the maroccan problem while dragging away on a Camel butt...

Five years ago during a cloudy autumn day, on the way to his office, on his crappy rusty bicycle that was craeking its protests against its owner`s sheer bulk and weight, just having visited his favorite tabocconist for his daily dose of cancer sticks, he got overtaken by a tradionally dressed young Marrocan called Mohammed Bareidi, a fanatic bound on his seven virgins in the Muslim afterlife, he shot Theo off his bike and ritually cut his throat paying no heed to his victim`s cries for mercy, adios you despicable heathen brought forth by the hated Dutch whose dole money he was quite happy to accept but whose ways were unacceptable to him...

A short shoot-out in a public park around the corner from his bloody crime, a police bullet in the upper Marrocan leg put and end to his dreams of cherrished marterhood, no seven virgins - or were there nine??? - but a painfull leg wound and a life time senctence in Vught`s high security prison, bent forward mate, we have the daily internal search...

Too bad for Theo Van Gogh he will never see the political earthquake his messy death brought about...though the Dutch population might very well need another marter before the message will really come across I fear...