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Ricki and the Flash

A remarkable filmchoice for Meryl Streep. AGAIN. Though I genuinely enjoyed watching her in Mamma Mia, it didn’t make sense to me at all. Why would a class actress do such a film? But then it hit me: because it was simply just a FUN project. Even actors and actresses need fun projects, the in between snacks, right?

This film is probably a bit like that. Meryl Streep can sing. Not like a songstress (she would’ve become one of those if she were that good), but still: she can sing. I think this is why she ends up in films that contain music and involve her singing. She can do it and she likes it. She won’t pull it off like Kate Winslet did for that Christmas Carol film) but still: she can carry a tune.

This film is about Ricki, part of a very dated and mediocre band, called The Flash, who receives a phonecall from her ex-husband. Their daughter is going through a rough period, he would like her help to pick up the pieces for their daughter Julie (so very fine portrayed by Meryl Streep’s real life daughter Mamie Gummer).

Basically, it’s a trip down memory lane for the family. Because, as it turns out, all of her children will be there, and the new Mrs of her ex is out, as her father is having an episode and therefor needs care and isn’t present.

To be fair I’m not sure if Meryl Streep had a say in how her hair was done, but it’s distracting quite a bit. Especially as anyone could tell you that that’s not especially any type of ‘rock’ hairdo. They either should have gone with an actual rock look (her face worked out far better) or she should’ve just not washed her hairs for weeks or months or something like that. It’s really weird. I can’t think of any rocker, male or female, who would go for such braids/plaits. They’re the type your little sister would make, not a grown woman.

Other than that, the film is fine. It’s not the best acting you’ll ever see, but it’s certainly not the worst. Can you skip it and live your life with a clear conscious? This is also very possible….

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Posted by on September 27, 2017 in Films, Opinion, Uncategorized

 

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Health Care in The Netherlands vs USA

It’s an interesting comparison at the very least.
Especially between these two countries.
For the contrast couldn’t be bigger, it seems.

We have proper health care. We do. It’s nearly unaffordable these days, but up to a certain point, people who fall ill, have the security of being cared for and it doesn’t cost them (too much).

The sights you see (in films, series etc) where people, upon arriving at the hospital, are handed out a form to fill out, is something that doesn’t happen here.

In order to achieve that, everyone who works, pays taxes and also a part of insurance for all the people in this country. If you have a better paying job, that means you pay more, as it’s a percentage of your wages.

Insurance companies build plans. Until about a decade ago, the plans were devided between people who could actually afford care and people who couldn’t. If you see that as seats in a plane, it was devided between ‘Economy Class’ and ‘Business Class’. In Economy Class you didn’t actually have a say where you were seated or how comfortable you were, but given that you didn’t pay that much, it made sense that someone else should make the decision (more) for you. Business Class was the opposite: you pay more, you had a say and at times even a choice of Care.

As I said, about a decade ago, this changed. We all became Economy Class people. It is now illegal to not have insurance. It is now no longer possible to have a choice between things needed in Care, you only have a choice in amounts of money to pay. Which is:

-A Lot,
-A Very Big Lot, or
-An Insane Mountain of Money Lot

Usually you pay the first if you don’t actually have (much) money. You pay the latter if you’re chronically ill and can’t bare life without medical assistance.
Also, the insurance companies have a huge influence on medical supplies in any way. The idea was to persuade doctors to prescribe medication that was less expensive, so that pharmaceutical companies would be forced to kneel down and ask less high prices for their meds. It now has come down to insurance companies having so much power that no human being has a right to any Care, unless they can proof they’re not lying and really need it. This also means giving up a lot of privacy. Even the privacy one would expect at their doctors’ office.
You see, in order to get a prescription, you need your doctor to write down what it’s for. The dosages are restricted to certain diseases, illnesses and this also includes mental illnesses. So unless a doctor declares on a form what the meds are for, you won’t get the right amount, And yes, the insurance companies really are that strict.
Then there’s pharmacists. Pharmacists have actually studied medicins (along with doctors) and know the chemical base of the patient. They know what medicins can and can’t be combined, something that a doctor doesn’t always know. S/he is your GP, not the one you see for absolutely everything. So, sure, if you’re a diabetic, s/he’ll know more or less what meds you take, but not necessarily if it will or won’t effect other meds you’re taking. When there’s other doctors involved, that’s even trickier. That’s where a pharmacist comes in.

Then, there’s insurance companies.
Who say they’re willing to pay you (some) of the money you have to pay in order to get well again. The problem is: they see you as guilty of lying. They do not believe you actually NEED these meds/therapies/medical supplies until you proof that you DO. And everything that’s not in your health plan, you need to pay for yourself. This even includes (nowadays, it didn’t used to) the instructions pharmacists’ assistants give you when you go there to pick up your medications. Which makes people furious at these assistants for even trying to explain.
I have studied to become a pharmacist’s assistant, and this was the main reason not to become one. Insurance companies are such vile bastards, they need human boxing balls for the patients who become more angry for not actually getting any meds for ‘free’ (they actually pay quite a lot) for medications they need. As a pharmacists’s assistant, that’s who you are. I was instructed to tell patients why they had to pay for their meds. There was no real reason, it’s just that the insurance companies don’t want to give it. I’ve had colleagues who had their faces scratched, being spat on, kicked in the shins and all that, for frustrated patients who needed to go somewhere with their agression. Inexcuseable, definitely, but sort of understandable, in a way.

And also, insurance companies don’t listen to doctors. I’ve had a mother in law with cancer. For her treatment, she had discussed with her oncologist (chosen by herself, approved by her insurance company) how to take her pills, a chemo.
She wanted to take 10 pills each day, for 10 days, so that she could feel like bloody shit for a relatively short period, then three weeks of feeling quite OK. The other option was to take a pill each day and feel relatively shit the entire year.
That sounds like an option one should have, no? To take pills in the order that you want. If you have your doctor’s approval, why not?
Not for the insurance company. They told her that if she wanted to take her pills that way, there was a certain bonus of 50 euros she wouldn’t receive. It’s a mild amount of money, I am aware. But the guts this insurance bastards have, to tell a terminally ill patient how s/he can/has to take their meds! Sometimes I hear prisoners complain about inhumane behaviour. I think insurance companies here are going that same direction. Who the f*** are they to tell patients of doctors who have been verified, accepted and acknowledged, to tell that they want the treatment to go elseways, or otherwise you won’t get money?

I do understand why something like crowdfunding is a thing in the USA. If you don’t have insurance, it’s pretty much the only way to go. That or suing a company who you believe is responsible for the lack of health in your life.
The thing with crowdfunding is, people can decide whether or not you are cute enough, have a point in not getting treatment for free or affordable prices yet. But it’s a tricky business, as you give up all the privacy you have.
After all, you’re gonna have to show people you don’t know, exactly how sick you are. Your name, your family, your neighbours etc: everyone will know who you are. People will see to it that their money is well spended. You are being watched. You’re an investment of sorts.
And people don’t want to save just anyone. If you have had an unhealthy lifestyle, or people don’t like your race, your gender, your religion or the place you’re coming from, they get to tell you: no, you had it coming, you’re not worth saving.
Or they simply will not give you any money.
With insurance companies, you don’t have that ‘convincing’ part of others, who simply have no other choice than pay taxes etc. You have to convince the insurance company you’re not a fraud, yes, but other than that: it doesn’t matter who the hell you are, if you fall ill, things will be taken care of.

So, when I hear someone say: the government should meddle less in people’s health care, I think: that’s something one could say here, at times. Insurance companies should definitely been told that they’re not the doctor.
But in the USA, where everyone tries to work just for themselves? You’re only just getting started.

 
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Posted by on September 17, 2017 in Opinion, Uncategorized

 

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Stalking vs attack

https://www.nu.nl/binnenland/4919072/hof-wil-meer-onderzoek-vader-wraak-nam-lastigvallen-dochter.html

Een op z’n minst opmerkelijke zaak. Een man die een andere man het ziekenhuis in slaat. Dat mag natuurlijk niet. Daar is de Nederlandse rechtspraak tamelijk duidelijk in. Maar het ‘slachtoffer’ was feitelijk een dader. Het stalker type. Had al een veroordeling staan en gezeten. Had zich voorgedaan als iemand anders, om zo de dochter van de man die hem het ziekenhuis in sloeg, voor zich te winnen. Een meisje van 14. Het ‘slachtoffer’ werd geslagen met een schep, is 47 jaar oud, in tegenstelling tot de 17 jaar die hij tegenover het meisje beweerde. Een regelrechte smeerlap dus. Die dat ook al vaker had gedaan.

Dan wordt het wel een béétje een ander verhaal, niet?
Niet volgens -nota bene- het Openbaar Ministerie.
Die ziet gronden voor poging tot moord. Omdat er met een schep geslagen is. En de man de politie meerdere keren gebeld had, voor hij tot geweld over ging. Omdat de politie hem duidelijk had gemaakt dat er niet veel gedaan kon worden.
Het feit dat er gestalkt werd, dat wordt compleet buiten beschouwing gelaten. Dat de 47-jarige in het geheel niet van plan was om het 14-jarige meisje met rust te laten. Niet voordat hij had wat hij wilde. Naaktfoto’s, intiem contact. Dat waar je je kinderen nu juist voor behoef.

Waarom?

Als (mede)slachtoffer van stalking, vind ik het ronduit schandalig wat hier gebeurd. Het OM probeert feitelijk om het stalking gedrag nog te belonen ook, door de vader van het meisje zwaarder te willen straffen dan de TBS-er Jack S.
Het enige wat Jack S heeft, is lichamelijk letsel. Botbreuken op diverse plekken, zaken die vanzelf helen. De psyche van de meisjes (Jack S heeft dit vaker gedaan) interesseert het OM geen mallemoer. Want de vader heeft geslagen. En dus kan Jack S zich nu tot in de lengte der dagen rijk rekenen. Elke rekening gaat naar de vader. De vader die zijn dochter verdedigde. Ervoor zorgde dat Jack S écht eens mocht voelen dat zijn levensstijl bepaald niet uitnodigt tot vriendjes worden met de vaders van de meisjes die hij via internet, onder valse voorwendselen, dwingt tot uitkleden, sexy poseren, om ze feitelijk via datzelfde internet te exploiteren, te chanteren en zo digitale pooier wordt. In de Nederlandse wet heb je daar aanzienlijk meer bewijs voor nodig. Mannen komen overal mee weg. Het meisje is degene die verweer moet zien op te bouwen. Als ze ook maar enigszins toegeeft aan z’n grillen, is het haar schuld al. Kijk maar naar de rechtspraak, en kijk maar naar de maatschappij.
Nogmaals, dat interesseert het OM niet. Die hadden het liever op de weg van de rechtspraak zien gebeuren. Nog een beetje TBS, nog een lullig taakstrafje, want zo belangrijk zijn jonge meisjes niet hier in Nederland. Dat is net als met die Robert M (die maar 20 lullige jaartjes heeft gekregen -waar nog zeker een derde van afgaat, want het is wel Nederland, straffen stellen geen reet voor hier- voor het verkrachten van ruim 75 baby’s en peuters, weet u nog?) Kinderen interesseren de rechtsstaat en vooral de rechtspraak niet. Als het de rechtspraak interesseerde wat er met kinderen gebeurde, dan deelden ze wel therapie uit na zittingen. Voor alle geleden schade die ze hadden berokkend. De zwakkeren in de maatschappij dienen per slot van rekening beschermd te worden, niet?
Niet als het IQ van zo’n paasei lager is dan degene die hij leed heeft aangedaan, zo blijkt.

Voor mij is de vader die de stalker van zijn dochter sloeg een held. Hij deed hem kwaad, ja. Maar de Druiloor leeft nog. En zal waarschijnlijk, na dit gebeuren, de Zielige Mannetjes Factor gaan gebruiken om nog veel meer meisjes te misbruiken.

Maar daar kijkt het OM niet naar.

Eigen rechter spelen mag niet.

Dus wordt niet de achtergrond van Jack S verder onderzocht, maar die van de vader van de dochter. Want voor je kind opkomen, dát mag niet in Nederland.

 
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Posted by on September 12, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

Room

Very impressive film about a young woman whose been a captive for about seven years, and her child, which she bore from her captivator.
This film begins when the boy becomes five years of age. The narrator is the voice of the child, which gives the situation a unique point of view.

Despite the fact that his mother doesn’t seem to have taught him very creative names for things (he sees objects as both a thing and a friend, and yet they are just called ‘Skylight’, ‘Wardrobe’ and so on). In a way you’d -nearly- expect a parent would try to cozy it up a bit. For the time being at least. But I guess not everybody is creative, so that could be it.

The boy, named Jack, is becoming five years of age. His mother bakes him a cake, and you notice how he’s getting in that stage of asking more questions. He wants to know about the ‘Old Nick’ his mother calls their captivator, who comes in every night, after his mother puts him to bed in Wardrobe, so he won’t have to be a witness. Thanks to the fact that this is where he has his own thoughts, his own logical way of thinking, there’s only the knowledge of what might happen between his mother and their captivator. This gives the film the possibility of being less heavy. It also explains why the boy is still being nursed, and why there aren’t more children involved.

His mother comes up with a plan to escape one day. When she explains it to Jack, you hear why she hasn’t tried it for so long.
Given that the attempt to escape happens quite early, you do wonder what will happen.

The other interesting part: you get to see what it’s like for a child that has grown used to being captivated, what it’s like to suddenly not be anymore. He is confused in every possible way, longs to Room and Wardrobe. You can’t even blame him for that: a regularity of rituals, in captivity or not: it is the only thing the child knows and likes because he knows it. Besides, it was the only place where he had his mother around him all the time. Which child doesn’t like that? He is not interested in regular toys, as he has had eggshells that his mother made into a snake etc.

It’s remarkable to see how so many things that aren’t explained in itself, are subtly explained anyway. That’s perhaps what I even liked the most.

The last scene is also a powerful one, again because of Jack. He is like a pet, in a way, in need of closure.

 

 
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Posted by on September 11, 2017 in Films, Opinion, Uncategorized

 

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What about Eve?

‘Where the hell is Eve?!’ Burt shouted, after stumbling downstairs, still sleepdrunk.
He had heard an unusual noise from the backyard. Which had made him decide to walk towards the sound. Which had now resulted in him seeing what it was that made that sound.
It was one of those moments, that simply only ever happened when Eve was to be found somewhere.
Why on earth he would request for her presence was beyond knowledge though, as it wouldn’t help a thing. It wouldn’t help anything, except it being slightly more logical that there appeared to be a cow lying in the backyard, just in front of the sandbox Burt had put there only days ago, to please his son Sammy, who was nearly two years of age.

‘Eve, I think…’Mary-Ann, his wife, wanted to fill Burt in, who was raging with fury by now. His neck had a nice red color. Though Mary-Ann wasn’t nearly as happy with Burt’s rage, she had to admit she liked the particular color that had formed in Burts’ neck.

If it had been a shade in a fabric, she’d most definitely want to wear it.

‘I don’t care!’ Burt shouted. Mary-Ann could have known that. The question of the whereabouts of her daughter, were rhetorical, merely a byproduct of what was important now: how to get rid of this particular cow?
‘It’s just that in moments like this, she feels even less like my daughter’, Burt explained, though it was quite hurtfull.
‘Oh you bastard!’ Mary-Ann cried. That was to be expected.
‘Go take a hike with your ‘she’s not my daughter’!’ she said, “I am going to put the kettle on”.
Now there was a good idea, even Burt thought.
The cow wouldn’t just disappear. It made a rather awful noise, yes, but nothing they could do about it or that, right now.
‘Where’s Thomas and Sammy?’ Burt asked surprisedly, when they sat down to actually drink their tea. He could barely hear himself think with all that mooing. It was like being interrupted by his toddler.
‘I suppose they are still asleep’, Mary-Ann replied, like nothing was different at all just now.
‘How can they be asleep when there’s a massive cow mooing all the way through the neighbourhood?!’ Burt replied, almost disgusted.
Mary-Ann noted a hint of envy.
‘Dearest, just because you awoke from that noise and woke me up, doesn’t change the fact one can shoot a cannonball next to their beds when they’re asleep. You know very well your lovely sons don’t wake up unless it’s time to play’.
Burt just looked stunned. A bit jealous, even. That his boys could sleep and not him.
‘I think we should phone the vet’, Mary-Ann said, as she took the cordless and started dialing for information. It took Burt about five minutes to reply, as he was gazing outside the glass backdoor that seperated them from the stoned backyard, which had the moaning cow in it. Neighbours were starting to become curious and gather at the gates of the garden.
Burt tried smiling to them, until he realized they were laughing at him, rather than being polite.

They knew, too, it was Eve’s presence.

He decided not to go out, as he heard Mary-Ann talking to the vet.
‘Ah yes, good idea’, he finally said.
‘…you could be here within the hour? Oh, that would be great!’ she said. Burt just took a sip from his tea. Staring at the cow, and Mrs Johnson, who just climbed over the fence as to comfort the cow.
‘Haha, species finding species’, Burt laughed.
He thought he was allowed a rather offensive joke as the neighbours were so clearly making fun of him and his misery.
‘Come, now we go outside’, Mary-Ann said to Burt. He hadn’t even noticed she’d ended the phonecall.
‘Why, it’s there?’ Burt said, wondering why they should have to go outside while it was very obvious the cow wouldn’t move one bit.
‘Yes, but the vet says we have to keep the cow warm’, Mary-Ann said, picking up a woolen blanket from the couch.
Thomas and Sammy usually played with it and as such, it was never clean. It seemed perfect for this occasion.
‘Well, join Mrs Johnson, who seems to be singing lullaby after lullaby for that cow’, Burt said. He wasn’t lying. Mrs Johnson had a voice like a volcano, and unfortunately not a very pleasant one. Mary-Ann politely joined Mrs Johnson’s presence, holding the blanket. At that point she noticed how windy it was, outside. It had to be, ofcourse. How else would a cow end up in a backyard that wasn’t even close to any farm where there were cows to be found?

‘What’s happening?’ Burt heard Thomas coming down the stairs. This made Burt slightly agitaded again.
‘What woke you up?’ he asked, highly sarcastically surprised.
‘Well, Mrs Johsons’ singing’, Thomas said. He walked passed his stunned father, in his red pyjama with helicopters on it.
‘There’s a cow in our garden!’ Thomas exclaimed on a tone as if they’d just won the lottery.
‘Why is there a cow in our garden? Can we keep it? Can we call it MooMoo?’ he asked Burt. It always amazed Burt how quickly Thomas could get to the point of asking something.
‘Well, that’s a good couple of questions’, Burt said. He had no idea what to tell his son. He just took a sip of his tea, wishing it were whiskey or something else involving a lot of alcohol. That way it should be so much easier to forget about all of this.
‘Sammy!’ Thomas yelled, ‘Sammy, come! There’s a cow in our backyard! Mommy has gone out to sing with Mrs Johnson’, he was very exited to tell his little brother this news. Sammy, all of 2 years old and a bit territorial-driven, only said:
‘Not in my sandbox! Not with my new shovel!’. Then Sammy tilted his head up.
‘Can I have a peanutbutter and jelly sandwich?’ he asked politely.
Burt was quite surprised over the request of his 2-year-old, but he gave into it anyway. It was easier to distract himself with something as silly as a peanutbutter and jelly sandwich than anything else at the moment. Thomas wanted to run outside in his PJ’s.
‘No way, Thomas, at least put on a robe, or a coat, and your feet are bare’, Burt said. That was the moment Mary-Ann stepped inside again.
‘Mrs Johnson woke me up with her singing’, Thomas whined.
‘Dearest, there is a cow in the backyard crying, and you woke up by the sound of Mrs Johnson??’ she sounded surprised.
‘Yes, you have weird children’, Burt said, making a peanutbutter-jelly sandwich for his youngest.
‘What are you doing?’ Mary-Ann asked, ‘It’s not a Sunday, you’re not supposed to have a peanutbutter-jelly sandwich now!’ Burt rolled his eyes.
‘There’s a cow in our backyard, which has been moaning all night, there’s a woman singing lullaby’s for it, which woke up our lovely boys, who weren’t woken up by the sounds of that massive cow landing up in our backyard, and you are fuzzing about the fact that it’s not Sunday enough to make a bloody peanutbutter-jelly sandwich?!’
Sammy had found his way to the cupboard and just managed to get the jelly jar out there. The jar was too big and way to slippery. It fell on the kitchenfloor and broke. Sammy started crying as he saw Burt’s face, which was bright red as he was still annoyed with the nonlogic of this morning. The same red Mary-Ann also liked so much on the wall in the diningroom. Though it might be a bit agressive there.
‘I want peanutbutter-jelly!’ Sammy cried.
‘Come here love’, Mary-Ann said, taking their toddler in her arms. Sammy came to cuddle, and at that moment, Eve stepped downstairs.
‘Eeeeeeeeve!’ Thomas screamed while running happily into her arms.
‘I knew you were here!’ Thomas said, cuddling her.
‘Oh? Why? What happened?’ she asked surprised, looking at her mother and stepdad.
‘Don’t tell me you didn’t hear…’
‘Moooooo!’
‘…that!’ her mother finished her sentence.
‘Oh, THAT! I had my music on all night, with my noise cancelling headphones. A plane could come fly by and I wouldn’t hear a thing! But errrm…yeah, well…that’s….ooooh is that tea??’ she walked into the kitchen, as if the kettle had some sort of huge magnet in it, but genuinely distracted.
‘When did you come home?’ Mary-Ann asked her eldest.
‘Not too long ago, actually’, she admitted.
‘About an hour or two, three ago, by any chance?’ Burt asked.
‘Dude, what’s with the sarcasm? Don’t think I don’t hear it!’ Eve said, slightly offended. Then she looked at the clock.
‘Well, I think…’, she watched her clock, ‘well, yeah. That might be right?’
‘Right’, Burt said, looking at Mary-Ann with a stern face.

‘What did you do?’ Eve asked, when Burt had passed them to go shower.
‘Oh nothing, I produced you, is all. Go and have breakfast dear, all will be well, soon’

And so the day started.

 

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Mortdecai

Oh how I enjoyed this film. After the first 10-15 minutes, that is. The start scene is not that representative for the flow of the total film.
Johnny Depp in a good old Willy Wonka/Mad Hatter-type of character named Charlie Mortdecai. Who is married to a lovely lady (played so nicely by Gwyneth Palthrow) and they’re about to become bankrupt, unless they sell a thing or two.

>Juggling some angry Russians, the British Mi5, his impossibly leggy wife and an international terrorist, debonair art dealer and part time rogue Charlie Mortdecai must traverse the globe armed only with his good looks and special charm in a race to recover a stolen painting rumored to contain the code to a lost bank account filled with Nazi gold.<< (by ImdB)

Given that the last film with Johnny Depp I saw was not a typical ‘Johnny’ film. This one so much made up for that! I truly enjoyed the idiotic performances, ridiculous storyline and British polite accents. Mortdecai’s help Jock, (Paul Bettany) is a lovely sidekick aswell, just like Alastar (Ewan McGregor) who is secretly in love with Mortdecai’s wife Johanna. The funniest (to me) are the romantic scenes. I don’t usually like those much. These kept me going, I laughed so much. Also the inclusion of some unexpected stars, like Jeff Goldblum, did the trick.

I know Johnny Depp gives mixed feelings to people these days. I have a different opinion on that altogether and this film is just lovely and a Must See!

 

 
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Posted by on August 31, 2017 in Films, Opinion

 

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Trump

OK I should start this blog by saying I was wrong about Trump. I truly was. I mean I already knew he was one of the most stupid men on this entire planet by the way he proceeded his campaign. Being a strong leader takes more than simply smearing someone else by repeating only some stupid emails, while he never ever took any responsibility for any of the wrong that he did himself, nor was he ever willing to speak about false claims he made. The emails kept coming up, and the fact that Hillary was, apparently, not able to rapidly answer in a way that it could be set aside. It kept following her. Odd. Meanwhile Trump did not so much as giving an example of what he was gonna do, except for that Mexican wall. It was one of the few moments he actually mentioned WHAT he was gonna do.

He truly was and still is, the most stupid and most sexist option that was ever available. Despite the fact his daughter Ivanka Trump runs a successful business. He puts her in a chair he is supposed to sit in himself, but I have never gotten the impression he has taken any of his children seriously. Just that he puts them into important positions, so he’s sure no-one will overcross him any way. Daddy is running the business sweeties, you’re only nice decoration.

Back to why I was wrong. I’ve read the different opinions about his possible presidency. People accused him, or rather warned his voters, for the possible outcome. That’s where I went wrong. I truly thought that a) it wouldn’t happen and b) that he was intrinsicly stupid, but there weren’t that many stupid people in the USA to reflect his way of handling tricky situations. I also forgot that America has one of the most difficult voting systems. People’s votes only count for a certain degree. It’s not actually fully a democracy. Not in my opinion, that is.

I had no idea his way of responding to a situation (Charlottesville)  would wake up an apparently existing range of idiots who now feel heard, dare to come out of their shadows and feel like they are expressing and appropriate opinion themselves.
Even when Kirk Douglas warned his fellow Americans that he had heard the same speech coming out of Trumps’ mouth, before entering the WWII, I thought: no, Trump hasn’t been THAT bad. He is amazingly stupid, yes, but not that bad.
Because at the time, Erdogan was also at it. Erdogan was telling all Turkish people around the world, they should tell on their fellow Turkish civilians who spoke bad about him. I did know Hitler did that. I thought to myself: Trump is stupid, but he is not ‘pulling a Hitler’, as I’d like to express it. Erdogan was telling other countries they acted like Hitler, while being the biggest guilty one on that account himself. He still is, by the way. As long as Erdogan has anything to say in that country, I will never ever visit it voluntarily. I am truly sorry for any woman or anyone with an opinion of their own who has to live there. Erdogan doesn’t allow a different opinion than his own, keeps firing any personal on an official position, until he has all the power in the world, it seems. I did think that was ‘pulling a Hitler’. I didn’t see Trump do that, and therefor I misassumed that he was, despite being so stupid, a safer option. Safer, but still the most stupid the USA could do with. I did think they deserved better.

Then Charlottesville happened. The response of Donald Trump came. The public was waiting for a response. One that could help lift their spirits. One that would show the world, suddenly, what an incredible man there was, steering the wheel of the round big thing we call earth. I did know we didn’t have to expect much, it being Trump, but still. His response and the response to that woke me up forgood.
Donald Trump really is vile. I don’t know what can be expected from him, but I do know it can never be good.

During the years of Obama, we saw a loving power couple. They were warm, charming, loving, tender, caring, they showed a love for one another that made you feel like they were the head of a cosy family you were part of. They were involved in important matters, Barack would give a speech that gave you back a feeling of strength and believe that there’s still good in the world. His wife was involved in multiple good causes, their children were visibly an important part of their lives and in short: it was a pretty picture.
We appear to have ended up in the freezer with the Trump’s. I’m pretty sure we will be the main course soon.

The bad thing is: youngsters take his example of not accepting people who look a bit different, who think different, and now feel free to harass these people. Because Donald Trump doesn’t tell them violence is never the answer. He actually doesn’t say anything. He just shows he doesn’t care. At all.

I did always think Trump was stupid. I have never changed my mind about that. Given that on tv is shown how easy it is to earn a lot of money by simply appearing on there and doing nothing, I have no admiration whatsoever for Trump. None. Any of his family members are truly despicable, the women included. Fighting to empower women, while the patriarch of the family brags about how he sexually abuses and intimidates women, even bragging that he thinks his daughter is shaggable or whatever. Their father and husband pardoned a man who was happy to let a woman give birth in chains because his own wife preferred to keep bondage out of the bedroom, I guess? How is that empowering women, Ivanka? How is that fighting against bullying, Melania? How do you keep your daughters clean from any abuse if you don’t even tell your dad to pipe down towards vulnerable young girls and women, Ivanka? How is that helping in that department? I hope you DO realise that it takes more than just the people within your own circles to actually BE a good person?
Soldiers are fighting for your life, Donald Trump. They are fighting for the people and their country, and you’re simply telling them they’re not good enough, because they had the misfortune to end up in the wrong body and still feel the need to fight. You told them to basically just stay at home, Donald. What for? Are you gonna fight yourself? You’re hair might get tangled, you know? Your sons won’t help. They’re too busy trophy hunting.

 
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Posted by on August 28, 2017 in Opinion, Uncategorized

 

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