The greatest show on earth

Yes kids, it's time for the US presidential election, complete with TV adverts making their case in that calm, measured reasonable style we've come to know and love

In the ad, a farmer says he thinks that "Howard Dean should take his tax-hiking, government-expanding, latte-drinking, sushi-eating, Volvo-driving, New York Times-reading ..." before the farmer's wife then finishes the sentence: "... Hollywood-loving, left-wing freak show back to Vermont, where it belongs."

Say what you like about party political broadcasts in the UK, but at least they try and address issues.

On a related note we all know comparing Bush to Hitler is dumb. Just to prove how dumb this strategy is at least one republican is now comparing Dean to Hitler and Lenin among others. In the spirit of the thing I'm comparing the author to a moron.

Online finds

This big list of recruitment agencies offering english speaking jobs might be useful.

Oh Bollocks

Liverpool away. Not exactly the FA cup draw I wanted after seeing Newcastle shrug off recent bad form and 32 years of south coast misery to beat Southampton in the FA Cup third round. Man Utd got Northampton or Rotherham depending on who wins the replay.

Happens every bloody year.

Well, OK, maybe it doesn't. But it feels like it does.

Predictions

Writing for Salon pundit Joe Consanon points out this piece of punditry from 1992. His point, pundits are usually wrong. Which since he's a pundit means...

Skating

We went skating yesterday, on our brand new viking skates. These are traditional Dutch skates, as opposed to more standard hockey skates, and feature much longer blades. They're designed for use outdoors, and in the favoured Dutch ice sport of speed skating.



I'm not a good skater, I go skating once or twice a year at most, and yesterday the new look skates didn't help much. Still they are more comfortable than the usual kind, and by the end of our session I was approaching my usual level of competence. The hope is that soon it will freeze up outside enough that we can go skating in the great outdoors.

Gelukkig Nieuwjaar

Despite the post below I've had a wonderful new year. On new years eve we went to a house party for which my better half had promised to make Oliebollen (Oil Balls). These are deep fried dough balls with raisins, apples and sultanas, and they're much fun to make and more fun to eat. Defying all claims that it was impossible I made one shaped like a dinosaur, and ate it.

New years day was spent with the family of my better half who gather round to talk to each other, play games and exchange news. It was a lot of fun, and included a swift tour of Amersfoort as part of the party games. Some years ago my better half was hosting one of these gatherings and determined that instead of sitting around all day the family should head out into the streets on a kind of treasure hunt / quiz. Even better she spied the chance to get rid of a cup she had been given by a friend and *really* didn't like. That cup became the annual trophy.

Thanks to my heroic efforts in Amersfoort that cup is now safely back in our hands, and I plan to give it pride of place in our home. Hurrah!

Today we're going skating on my new skates (more about those later)

Fireworks and New Year

The Dutch are a nation of sensible, sober folk. They like beer, but not to excess. They live in very sensible houses, are extremely organised in a slightly German kind of way and have the kind of serious outlook on things that probably comes from building your own country. Right up till new years eve.

At this point the Dutch go quite startlingly mad. There is somekind of national pyromania that lurks just below the surface in Holland and on the only night on which fireworks are not banned all hell breaks loose. We spent new year at a very nice houseparty. For several hours it was normal, but as midnight approached explosions began in the streets - the kind rockets and bangers make. As midnight got closer the explosions came closer together, and peeking out through the blinds and the mist you could see the odd shower of stars and chemical glitter.

Come midnight it was like something out of WWII. The crackle and snap of bangers, the whoosh of rockets and the thumping explosion of big fireworks mortars. Official advice to asthmatics is to stay inside. Our whole party rushed outside, bags of fireworks appeared from nowhere and we started to contribute ourselves.

In the UK there are relentless safety campaigns around bonfire night, some with graphic images of what can go wrong if you

Throw fireworks
Return to lit fireworks
Ignore the safety distances
Don't have a bucket of sand on hand
Set off fireworks near buildings

our party, and pretty much everyone else on the streets (and there were many) did all of these things. Bicyclists wheeled around corners to be confronted with catherine wheels and rode straight by. One father walked his three young sons yards away from a rocket in a bottle and didn't give it a second glance. The whole thing was a display of insane irresponsiblity from a group of people I'd have expected much more from.

I don't think I've been so shocked in a very long time.

My other half seems to feel like I'm overreacting. This after all is normal behaviour here. But in amonst all the fireworks was the constant sound of sirens. The emergency services must have been rushed off their feet that night. All those British commercials of the burned and the blinded kept running through my head.

On a more prosaic note everyone complains about kids in the streets with firecrackers in the weeks around christmas. They have big firecrackers here, you can here them from streets away. They also throw them in waste bins to set things on fire - no one can understand why.

I can. It's because once a year adults demonstrate that the grown up thing to do with fireworks is to behave like reckless kids. When we got home yesterday our recyling bin was burning away merrily. Apparently this happens every year.