Rood Wit Paars-met-een-gouden-randje

Right.

Because of a small-scale American invasion in Voorburg I am now obligated to write an entire post in English. Miriam says I have to, and I will, because I don't want to piss off any Americans. Because, ehm, you know, they have nuclear weapons and we do not.
So there you have it, i'm writing this in English. Which is, frankly, a pain in the ass. All my inspiration is drawn away by the attention I have to give to spelling and building of sentences and so on. So this is gonna be the most boring post I have éver written. Even more boring than the last one, and that's something I thought was impossible. The only reason I'm writing this is to stop the Americans from bombing our country. The things I do to save all your lives, it's incredible.

Listen, I got a question.

Here it is.

Where do all those dead animals go?

Look, animals die. It's a fact. Yeh, it's true, I swear. The only difference between animals and humans is that animals have no idea they're gonna die, and that's why animals are happy all the time, except when somebody kicks the shit out of them. And if you look around, there are a lót of animals. Ok, maybe you don't see any if you look around at this very moment - but there áre lóts of ánimals around. Cats, dogs, ducks, crows, mice, bees and so on.
Pets that die are brought to some place where they throw them on a big pile and burn 'em all. You can also give pets their own funeral and bury them on a pet-graveyard, but that's pathetic and expensive and useless, so most people don't do that.
But what about other animals? Wild animals, I mean? Last week, not far from where I live, there was a dead duck lying in the middle of the street. I guess it was hit by a car, because, well, his brain was splattered all over the place. If there ever was a dead duck, it was thát one. And now it's still lying there, the only difference is that it's completely flat. Also, the color of.. what is left of that duck has now become black, so if you would see it now you would guess it was a crow that got hit by a big, big truck. But thanks to me, we now all know it was a dúck.

Anyway, that's what happens to ducks that get hit by a car - but what about other ducks? What about pigeons? What about all those little insects? Where do they go? They must be cleaned up, or else the streets would be filled with dead, stinking, rotting animals. Right?
And the streets are clean, or almost clean.
So then there must be people whose jób it is to pick up dead animals and take them to some place to get rid of them. McDonalds, that's my guess.

And since Jean is the only one I know that actually wórks at McDonalds, we could ask him. We really should ask him, you know. Come on, let's ask him. Here we go. One, two, three, ten:

Jean, is the reason those McDonalds-hamburgers smell, feel and taste like dead birds that they actually ARE made of squashed birds that got killed in nasty car-accidents?
And what kind of work do you do exactly? Not picking up dead birds from the streets, are you?

It's 20:36 hr. Tomorrow a new month begins. Here are the rules for this new month.

1. Lose your sense of 'humour' on the 1st of april. Please. No jokes. Please.
2. Be extra nice to your grandmother. I don't care what you do with your grandfather, though. Lock him in the closet or something, I don't care.
3. Throw a party! Somebody must have a birthday or another occasion to have a goddamn party this month! Jesus Christ, please, somebody..? I'll even buy you a present.
4. Make a picture of yourself every day, then at the end of the month you can see how much you've changed in that month. How cool is that, eh?
5. Learn a new language.

There ya go.