It’s rare, but it does happen every now and then that a great article appears in the press. Sometimes this goes unnoticed. Fortunately, Vanmol and Durnez are sharpening their eyes on a weekly basis and both Malkander and the Breakthrough reader have caught the attention of this phenomenon.
How many times have I told you not to expect the government to fix it! And every time you fall in love with her. Don’t worry about high gas prices, Steve. Tinne Van der Straeten will keep some nuclear power plants open. “Oh, Putin’s nuclear threats, Steve, don’t care. Ludivine Dedonder follows on.
No, no and again no, Irwin. You really need to get rid of the idea that the government can solve everything. I’ve been saying that for years, but Pierre Winch, governor of the National Bank, now agrees. And this person should know. At the same time, he says, the recession is not a disaster. Look, that makes me feel good again. Every time people with a high paying job assure me that the global decline in wealth isn’t actually a problem at all, I feel satisfied that our fate is in good hands after all. I will warm myself to this thought. Because money for real heating, this would be something else …
Oblomovist’s friend Steve,
It’s not a question of whether the government can’t solve everything. The question is whether the government can solve anything at all. Yes, hire hamster trainers or hand out the money in expensive soup dresses in the outdoors. yes. But to fill a hole in the road surface? Come on!
I am simple in many ways. Efforts, for example. But also for the government. ‘Government’ I always say, ‘Government has to take care of two things. That there are no potholes in the streets and that citizens can walk on them safely’. You can imagine that this is not a common statement in government departments. You only need two ministers and not thirty-eleven governments. A secretary is making coffee and answering the phone, some people who are willing to work with a truck.
There may also be a central bank. Then we put it in the middle of the street so that less able humans can relax on it without having to go to court. We take care of everything else ourselves and you can bet we can do it, we’ve already proven it. Do you know what we need urgently, Steve? Five hundred more days without government. Oh man, life was so quiet back then.
Dear Doolittle Fanmol,
I will call you d. Doolittle, but I can also say that you are the Saint Francis of Avlegim, for I have a serious suspicion that you speak regularly with your animals. However, it is time, Irwin, that we become less attached to those cats and chickens and hedgehogs. Because animals are harmful to the climate.
Not only do I make it up, but I read it in the scientific journal “Het Laatste Nieuws”. Even on World Animal Day. the irony. How does a pet harm the climate, I hear you ask? Do they fart a lot? Do they fly often? Do they burn exposed tires every day? No, but it is harmful nonetheless. The biggest culprit (as mentioned in the article) is their diet. Most animals eat meat and everyone now knows that meat is the source of all evil in the universe and beyond.
In one year, a dog is as harmful as a car trip of 3,677 kilometers. A cat is as harmful as riding a 1413 kilometer car! This means nothing to you, because you do not drive by car, but 1431 kilometers, that is, from here to beyond Barcelona. This dog even made it to Dakar.
I had a serious conversation with Ramses, we have Stratter. She weighs barely five kilograms, so I estimate that a poor dog is no more harmful than a cat. Until now. I told him he was no longer responsible. We have to do something for the future of our planet, because there is no Planet B and we live in 2022, they say. Ramses looked a little sad, but he got it.
“We’ll have to sell it to the Chinese,” I said to Ferrell. Which, oddly enough, burst into tears. Do you understand that now? Women! The next day she had the solution. “I also spoke to Ramses,” she said. “And he doesn’t see himself as a dog. He identifies as a fish. And a fish, that’s only a 14-kilometer drive away. And besides, we drive electric anyway. That was a huge relief and I can tell you more, but first I must let our fish out, because it Stumble nervously.
Dear Saint Niemeyer, sit down
What a coincidence, my wife always calls me Dr. Doolittle. But that’s because I usually don’t do much. “He can explain and draw hats,” she says. And that’s right, I filled my days with “drawing hats” and explaining why they weren’t ready yet. I get to know deadlines flawlessly by the sound they make when they fly.
But it is also true that I am Saint Francis of Rosenlan. Chickens, ducks, cats and hedgehogs. I’ve already had them all. Dogs too, but I don’t do that anymore because I know Hitler had some too. A person quickly has a good reputation these days
My hedgehog was also quite seasons. This made you laugh! Our Enrico came every evening to empty a bowl of cat pellets, and for the rest he fed on an abundance of snails that my vegetable garden is theirs.
One day, Enrico brought a hedgehog cub. Turns out our Enrico is Enrica. I suppose he didn’t surreptitiously change his gender because hedgehogs – and everyone knows it – are the least awake animal with spines. Anyway, since then we called her Enrica and the young man only Enrico again. I already mentioned that I’m working on minimal efforts. Double the hedgehogs, double the fun.
Until one day little Enrico was walking in the park on high legs and unsafe big steps. And with obvious balance problems. My first thought was that the Little Thunder Stone had paid close attention and thus could give a perfect imitation of the way I usually come home after a “meeting”. But the harsh truth was that he had contracted the hedgehog plague. A terrible disease that mainly affects echinoderms, as the name gives us. And now she’s lying there, my garden. the Hedgehog. With a foggy mind. I think I even heard snails softly buzzing “kumbaya” last night. But it was after a meeting and it was also possible that the mother was the woman who was roaring.
Dear Klimt Irwin,
The good people of VRTNWS say the floods in Pakistan are the fault of the West. noticeable. Can the Wizders dam guard be used in Pakistan today?
Of course, the floods in Pakistan are the fault of the West. And more specifically from Southwest Pakistan, smart people! But they do not say it in VRT.
Hey fanmol pig save!
I am very happy that the newspapers give useful tips every day to save gas, water and electricity. By the way, did you know that your radio does not consume less if you turn it off? I read this week. Too bad, because I usually turn on the radio so quietly that I can’t hear Ruth Goss anymore.
But regardless. The other station, Radio 2, asked 140 mayors how to save themselves at home. They give very useful advice. Half of all mayors think twice before taking a shower. I understand that. You don’t want to be too clean in politics. Hans Bonte, the mayor of Vilford, saves on energy bills by “crawling near his wife a lot”. The awake Mayor of Hosselt, Werner Raskin, is smarter: he goes to bed early, lowers the temperature and turns off the lights. “You can pull the covers on yourself and have a conversation with your spouse,” Raskin says.
I also have some advice for mayors myself. Advise all of your residents to wear long sleeves so you can fit more on them. Eat less bacon so you can shoot more with it. And whistling song often to develop bladder detachment.
Hey Zeeland currants!
What a weird savings tip. They always assume that snuggling with the lady will turn the temperature up. I dare argue with that. Anyone who knows a little about the imaginative, superior, graceful, angelic sex knows that females have feet that can be expected in terms of temperature in the mortuary.
Many high jumpers started their careers after cobwebs decided to warm their feet on his back. Wrestling arose from an attempt to get rid of a female animal who wanted to put her ice cream jokes under a man’s armpit. It is even rumored that the popular sport of filo-riding – very popular nowadays in Sheppdal – came into being when a distraught bike owner tried to flee his hypothermic wife while shouting furiously: ‘Just wait, Isidore you bastard! One day you must come again and then I will lie on you for three days without clothes! ‘. Looks like he’s not home yet.
See you next week, big miss!