Friday, May 06, 2005


The strangest thing just happened to me. I was getting ready for bed. Brushed my teeth; undressed flipped my underwear in the general direction of my laundry basket and jumped on my bed. Just as I was about to turn off the light, I was startled by a voice: "Why did you post that?"
To many people this kind of thing would be terrifying or a sign of insanity. Not to me however. I instinctively knew that I was having another visit from God. So, happily I cried: "Jesus! buddy! Where are you?"
"I am everywhere.", the voice said, "even in the underwear you so carelessly tossed on the floor."
"Oh my God.", I exclaimed as I saw the skidmarks on my underwear moving as if they were lips, "That's just gross.",
"You humans have no sense of humour.", my underwear exclaimed haughtily, "anyway, you did not answer my question. Why did you post that letter to mankind?"
I jumped off the bed, grabbed my underwear and threw it in the laundry basket. "Jesus, I am not going to talk to you unless you take on some form I can actually relate to."
Mutturing obscene profanities I stumbled back to bed. Mickey entered the room, jumped on top of my chest, licked my nose and started purring as if his life depended on it.
"Right Mickey", I said, "you'd never do a gross thing like that."
"Actually I would.", Mickey said, "and you still didn't tell me why you posted that." A man can only take so much before admitting defeat. Let's face it. God has a sick sense of humour, and there is no escaping it. I looked at Mickey / God for some time, softly stroking his head, pondering why I posted what I posted and finally said: "When you came here on earth, you spoke of love, forgiveness and the brotherhood of men. All men. You said we all carried the spark of divinity in us."
Mickey / God slowly nodded his feline head. A gesture that in a perverse way made my cat look like a fucking zenmaster.
"When they asked you to stone the woman, you told them that he who is without sin should throw the first stone. But in islam, there is only the brotherhood of muslims. Every non-muslim is "impure" or "unclean". They say you delight in the stoning and killing of people. That you are a god of war, rape, bloodshed and slavery. They make you out to be some kind of demon. They say that those who do not worship you in their way, should be killed. Their women and children raped and sold as slaves."
Mickey curled his lips in some gross parody of a smile and said: "That still does not answer my question. Why did you post that letter?"
I had to think this one over, so it took me a while before I said: "Cause I'm scared. Statistics show that Europe will be an islamic country before the end of the century. I want my children and grandchildren to live in a society of freedom. The freedom to come to you in whatever form they recognise you in. The freedom to call you by whatever name they fancy. I want them to think in freedom. Speak in freedom. I want them to know you AS freedom."
During my little speech I had failed to notice that Mickey lost interest and was now giving his complete attention to licking his balls.
"Did you know this cat was neutered?", Mickey asked, not really caring to lift his face from his groin.
"Yeah, I know. That happened before he came to live with me. So, God, what are you going to do about it?", I said impatiently.
Mickey once again started concentrating on licking my nose.
"No intention is the will to help others.", Freuds portrait from above my bed suddenly exclaimed.
"Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean?", I asked, trying to stretch my neck in an unnatural angle so as to look at the portrait without disturbing Mickey.
But he was gone. I hate it when he does that. He thinks he's such a wise-ass. Sick! Sick sense of humour. Next time I'll punch him in the face. He knows I want to punch him, so he hides in Mickey.
God is not cool! Which is probably his one redeeming feature.

A letter to mankind

No personal stuff today. My apologies for hurting politically correct sentiments. But a man I consider my hero, Ali Sina, has written a letter that I'd like everyone to read. Ali Sina is a former Iranian muslim, who has several fatwa's hanging on his ass for leaving islam. He is highly intelligent, a great author and a man that stands for something. I urge everybody to visit and read his website. I sincerely hope this will be the first and last political post on my blog. But all it takes for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing. So here goes

A Letter to Mankind

Dear fellow human,

Today humanity is being challenged. Unthinkable atrocities take place on daily basis. There is an evil force at work that aims to destroy us. The agents of this evil respect nothing; not even the lives of children. Every day there are bombings, every day innocent people are targeted and murdered. It seems as if we are helpless. But we are not!

The ancient Chinese sage Sun Zi said, "Know your enemy and you won't be defeated". Do we know our enemy? If we don't, then we are doomed.

Terrorism is not an ideology, it is a tool; but the terrorists kill for an ideology. They call that ideology Islam.

The entire world, both Muslims and non-Muslims claim that the terrorists have hijacked "the religion of peace" and Islam does not condone violence.

Who is right? Do the terrorists understand Islam better, or do those who decry them? The answer to this question is the key to our victory, and failure to find that key will result in our loss and death will be upon us. The key is in the Quran and the history of Islam.

Those of us, who know Islam, know that the understanding of the terrorists of Islam is correct. They are doing nothing that their prophet did not do and did not encourage his followers to do. Murder, rape, assassination, beheading, massacre and sacrilege of the dead "to delight the hearts of the believers" were all practiced by Muhammad, were taught by him and were observed by Muslims throughout their history.

If truth has ever mattered, it matters most now! This is the time that we have to call a spade a spade. This is the time that we have to find the root of the problem and eradicate it. The root of Islamic terrorism is Islam. The proof of that is the Quran.

We are a group of ex-Muslims who have seen the face of the evil and have risen to warn the world. No matter how painful the truth may be, only truth can set us free. Why this much denial? Why so much obstinacy? How many more innocent lives should be lost before YOU open your eyes? A nuclear disaster is upon us. This will happen. It is not a question of "if" but "when". Oblivious of that, the world is digging its head deeper in the sand.

We urge the Muslims to leave Islam. Stop with excuses, justifications and rationalizations. Stop dividing mankind into "us" vs. "them" and Muslims vs. Kafirs. We are One people, One mankind! Muhammad was not a messenger of God. It is time that we end this insanity and face the truth. The terrorists take their moral support and the validation for their actions from you. Your very adherence to their cult of death is a nod of approval for their crimes against humanity.

We also urge the non-Muslims to stop being politically correct lest they hurt the sensitivities of the Muslims. To Hell with their sensitivities! Let us save their lives, and the lives of millions of innocent people.

Millions, if not billions of lives will be lost if we do nothing. Time is running out! "All it takes for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing." Do something! Send this message to everyone in your address book and ask them to do the same. Defeat Islam and stop terrorism. This is your world, save it.

The ex-Muslim Movement

Wednesday, May 04, 2005


I'm not cool! I've never been cool, and God willing, I'll never be cool. I don't even think I get the concept of being cool. In fact, most probably I could be classified as a grumpy old man with an attitude problem. It's not for a lack of trying. Trying to be cool is like having sex with a crackwhore. It's cheap. It's devoid of joy and all the while you got this crazy idea that somehow you're dick is gonna fall off.
I tried wearing sunglasses all the time. What's the deal with that? I live in Amsterdam. It rains all the time. I must have looked ridiculous. Still there must be something to it. All those cool people wearing sunglasses wether rain or shine, inside or outside. But after noticing a definite decrease in the quality of my vision, I gave that up. (Besides, I looked like an idiot, bumping into furniture in broad daylight.)
I tried having loud conversations on my cellphone all the time. But since I don't have many cool friend, and am on a very tight budget, I had to give that up as well. Besides I felt like an idiot talking back to a busy-signal all day.
I tried looking angry and dangerous all the time. But after a week of headaches and spending a fortune on paracetamol, I gave it up.
I tried watching MTV 24/7. That was probably the hardest part of the "trying-to-be-cool" ordeal. Apart from the epilleptic siezures that brought about, I had a really hard time staying awake. Let's face it. MTV may be cool, but spoiled little black kids trying to recite bad poetry to the beat of a drumcomputer, and brainless blondes capitalising on repressed pedophillic sexual fantasies are not really a motivation for most non-cool people.
I tried wearing a baseballcap the wrong-way round. But the sun kept shining in my eyes. I tried making "gangsta-signs" (or whatever they call them), but when people started enquiring wether I was having another seizure, I had to give that up as well. I tried driving around in my car real slow with the radio turned to maximum volume, but I almost turned deaf. I tried talking Jive with a Jamaican accent, but when even my Jamaican friends started asking me what the fuck I was talking about, I gave that up as well. I tried the "bling-bling" thing. But please people.... It's not easy wearing a 4 pound gold-laminated chain with my name (HansChristiaan) on it around my neck. After a days work, my back used to ache as if I'd lifted elephant shit at the zoo.
I got me some cool friends, and we used to "hang out". But the joy of "chillin", (don't ask, I never quite got the concept), "hanging", (same), "rapping" (somehow William Butler Yeats does not lend himself well to being recited to the "beat" of a computer) and "lounging" (simillar to "chillin" and "hanging" but in a more comfortable way I gather) never quite managed to reach my heart.
I have finally faced up to the truth. I'm not cool. I'm fucking emotional. I drink too much, I smoke too much, I talk English with an Indian sing-song accent. I cry when I feel like it. I laugh too hard at my own jokes. I listen to Jazz and Opera and Frank Sinatra, and when my hangover lifts around noon, it's always a surprise to see that I actually managed to pull a clean shirt out of my closet.
I'm not cool. I never will be. Thank God. I don't want my dick to fall off.