... Then three months later

Uncovering urban lifestyle, contemporary trends and other (Canadian) peculiarities from a totally biased and nonobjective European perspective. Infiltration, intrigues, wonder and more ...

The Stanley Park is still a little piece of land just outside downtown Vancouver. It's quite pretty and filled with trees, shrubs and small wildlife. It thanks its notable presence in the heart of Vancouver to the fact that at one point in history, the Canadians expected the Americans to invade their territory. In their military genius, they deemed Stanley park a vital strategic asset and decreed that no civilian structure was allowed to spoil this formidable green fortress. After someone informed the Canadian high command about the validity of the claims made in South Park - the Movie, it was too late: Stanley had already been designated as a national historic site.

scaring away the yanks with totems

It not only goes to show how influential South Park is in the circles of the military, but also that the Canadians have a well cultivated distrust versus their Imperical Southern Neighbours... as the SO would soon find out first hand.

On the 26th of October, the SO and our offspring entered Canadia with intent of settling here for a while. Her plane was a good 15 minutes early. Packed with her suitcases and one discontent baby, she entered immigration. A good three hours and one very uber discontent baby later, she was allowed to enter Canadian territory, AFTER she had sufficiently made clear that she wasn´t part of an invasion force, had ties (read: a crying disgruntled baby) with a resident (me) and had no intention of killing, mutilating or kidnapping Terrance or Phillip (she was free to do whatever she wanted to Celine Dion).

And thus the infiltration mission grew with two members: the SO and a little female mini us...

Happy family reunion

It has been a thrilling three month period ever since. A period filled with random events, eventual adventures and adventurous travels. Our belongings came in from Holland, turning our small hideout into an even more infinitesimal space with half of the apartment filled with boxes and the other half filled with chairs. Soon after our boxes arrived, Sinterklaas dropped by (he's allowed to enter Canadia after the draw in the fireworks contest with Santa earlier this year). We celebrated American Thanksgiving (no moose either) . Project "D0T" saw first daylight. Finally, we concluded the year making oliebollen in Laurel, Maryland - US (home of the famous and distinguished Delta Bingo Establishment).

... And all of these miraculous proceedings remained unbloggified. As the saying goes, "time flies when you have to take care of a baby" ( or more accurately, "when you're around a baby" - a lot of credit goes out to the SO for doing the majority of all the hard work (daddy gets to play)). To appease the ravenous hordes of fanatical "Infiltration" readers (*), here's some expectation management for you... priorities have shifted a bit, but the blog will return in 2008 at random times.

Best belated wishes to all of you - M, M & S

(*) Can one person make a "ravenous horde of readers" ?

Foooooooooottie !

Uncovering urban lifestyle, contemporary trends and other (Canadian) peculiarities from a totally biased and nonobjective European perspective. Infiltration, intrigues, wonder and more ...

"I work at Starbucks: ask me ur questions!"
"Which finger do you use to push the butten that makes the coffee?"
- [Welcome to Vancouver]

One unmovable and slightly admirable quality of the Canadians is their urge to copy everything almost but not quite like its original and then add "Canadian" as a pre or suffix. Take for example Canadian Football (suffix example would the "Football Canadian" (Canadian Football as it´s called in the French speaking part of Canadia, in case you were wondering).

You may ask if I jest - I´m not; Canadian Football is as real as the proverbial train at the end of the tunnel pretending to be light and salvation. It´s not only a lame proverbial paraphrasing but also as close as Canadian Football comes to any form of speed... more on that later.


Canadian football is basically American football with a few minor adjustments. There´s still a bunch of guys dressed up in excessive padding who run into one another to stop the other from going somewhere. There´s a grass field with a goal on each end to make the grass look pretty. Teams score by running into the "end zone" of the opposing team, whilst carrying a ball... yes, football has hardly anything to do with feet in Canada as well. There are differences compared to the American version, but they are subtle and hard to spot (aka irrelevant) to the untrained eye. But a difference is a difference, and therefore it´s not American football, so the Canadian is a happy moose again.


Mentioning Canadian Football in Vancouver,points to the home of the B.C. Lions. At about twice the size of its smaller, but more popular brother the Canucks Ice Rink, the B.C. Lions Arena dominates the southwest landscape of downtown Vancouver. Needless to say, but good to mention for the slower amongst us, it was ripe and waiting for an another insidious infiltration mission.

infiltrate the concrete composition; bonus points for finding funny looking people

Aided by the usual suspects, we arrive at the ticket booth, where we´re met with the blank stare of a teenager who hasn´t managed to escape puberty quite yet...
"Sold out" the spotty shrimp behind the counter offers.
"And what about the silver ring seats?"
Uninterested. "Sorry, we only have bronze..."
"Is that any good ?"
The shrimp looks confused and tries to make a statement. Thinking the better of it, he lamely shrugs his shoulders. First class salesman.
"I guess ... We´ll take bronze then ?"
"Whatever..." he mumbles from behind the glass wall that keeps the world outside.

Happy with our tickets, the prospect of beer, hotdogs, and a free cavity search at the entrance, we set onwards ... into an empty stadium. We look around, to see rows of empty seats, followed by more rows of empty seats. We blink and the stadium blinks back.

good times

As the cheerleaders take the field and we try to enjoy the sight of their supposedly luscious curves from our sky high bronze seats, another supporter shuffles into the stadium, followed by another one. Things really get busy as two more enter the arena on the other side. By the time the opposing team is greeted by the friendly tunes of the "imperial march", the stadium is at least at five percent of its capacity. The entrance of the Lions themselves pushes the mark to seven percent... somehow there´s a lot lost in translation of the concept of "sold out".



The intro of GnRs´ "Welcome to the Jungle" announces the kickoff, and under loud cheering of the twelve people making up the "crowd", the teams clash into another. This apparently takes so much effort that the entire team on both sides gets replaced within minutes. One minute later the game continues for a whole four seconds, after which the teams take another minute to restart the game. Here´s an impression on how exciting this is:

The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions. The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions.The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions.The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions.The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions.The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions. The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions.

Pause, thirty minutes to rest from all this excitement.

The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions. The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions. The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions. The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions. The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions. The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions. The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions. The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions. The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions. The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions. The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions. The team takes one minute to get into their positions, the ball is played, a player is tackled and another minute is spend walking back into positions.

...

In other words: If I would get paid per word, I´d go into football reporting - millionaire in two articles. In more other words, despite the victory of the BC Lions that night, the most exciting thing that happened after our hot dogs was passing through the revolving high speed doors on our way out. I´ll stick with cheering for the Canucks for a while ...

Coupland wrote the book I wanted to write and Yathzee is giving the reviews I wanted to give; good stuff if you don´t mind a million British words per minute...

Why there was no moose for Thanksgiving

Uncovering urban lifestyle, contemporary trends and other (Canadian) peculiarities from a totally biased and nonobjective European perspective. Infiltration, intrigues, wonder and more ...

"Well, like a lot of other dictators, there is one man's opinion I value above all others. Mine. And folks, I have a lot of opinions... In fact, I have so many opinions, I have overwhelmed my ability to document myself". [Stephen Colbert, I am America (and so can you!)]

Another week, another quote from the latest literary acquisition. More comedy books, as I find myself in need for a lot of additional humor lately. Since looking into the mirror doesn't quite cut it anymore after 31 years, I buy comedy books... No worries, this ain't another bluesy emo blog.


What is this man doing ? (<- Click the link) If you're answer was: "whipping cream" you lack imagination, I recommend going out more doing things you shouldn't do. If your answer was "whipping cream prior to desert on a Thanksgiving party", you probably were at the same place I was last week.

beer time ?

"Thanksgiving, or Thanksgiving Day, is a traditional North American holiday to give thanks at the conclusion of the harvest season. Canada celebrates Thanksgiving on the second Monday in October, and the United States celebrates the holiday on the fourth Thursday of November." [Wiki]

Luckily with the friends I have over here, I found myself invited to a thanksgiving party. My first Canadian Thanksgiving. Ironically, my first Canadian Thanksgiving was amongst a group of people who consisted mostly of Brits, complemented with a Japanese woman and one token Canadian. (If you feel like it, try to spot the Canadian amongst the people in these pictures. Hint: it's not this guy, nor is it her, she is the Japanese woman (1))

The Canadians celebrate thanksgiving differently from their southern neighbors. Besides celebrating it on different days, singing different songs, feeling guilty about different victims of racial genocide, the Canadians don't serve the traditional Butterballs, but meese (2).

thanksgiving requires an excessive amount of thinking

If you look close enough at the pictures provided, you will notice a shocking lack of moose meat, despite the genuine efforts of the host and hostess of the party ...

In a course of bad luck for tradition, meese hunting was outlawed in Canadia. Interesting enough, there are ways around that law. If you - by accident - run into a moose and kill it in the process, you're still free to take it home and eat it (3). After all, a dead moose is just roadkill and nothing prohibits you from eating roadkill. The downside of this loophole in legislation is that around this time it's not quite safe to cross the streets anymore with all the Canucks driving like maniacs hoping to hit a moose (or create some random roadkill; no one will note the difference, unless you hit a skunk).

Being good sports, the British organizers didn't want to miss out on this typical Canadian meese hunting tradition. They rented a cheap car that looked like it could kill a moose and set out.

The entire world outside the former empire knows the British are "different" when it comes to driving (4), most notoriously is their driving-on-the-left-side-of-the-road-habit. It's a habit that's hard to kill as the driver of a Pizza delivery car found out. Just after his life flashed by and before passing out, he saw two Brits hopping out of the vehicle that was stuck in the place occupied by his engine just five minutes ago. Later in the hospital, he told investigators about the sensation of being prodded and someone saying something along the lines of "Blimey, I thought Meese looked tastier, this one isn't even dead. I say, what do we do now dear ... am I smelling pizzas ?"

And thus it came to pass that my first Canadian Thanksgiving was mooseless. Nevertheless, the lack of meese meat and the substitute pizzas didn't do anything to dampen the spirits at the party. After all there was good food, friends, songs and we had no bad conscience to deal with...

(1) Looks can be deceiving.

(2) The English language is horribly inconsistent. Why would the plural of a word change when you change the G into a M ? It makes no sense. It has to stop... and don't get me started on the subject of pronunciation.

(3) Your car will be wrecked as well; it's considered compensation on the moose's behalf.

(4) Different as in politically correct for "obviously retarded".

Who needs to see Maple leaves ?

Uncovering urban lifestyle, contemporary trends and other (Canadian) peculiarities from a totally biased and nonobjective European perspective. Infiltration, intrigues, wonder and more ...

“Cyril peered myopically at the \”Cock-A-Doodle-Doo\” in a heavy Gothic script. Somewhere in his tiny mad chicken mind a very distinct and chilly understanding formed that he'd better learn to read very, very quickly.” [1]

Pratchett's books in combination with Denny's food are somehow a great counter for hangovers. Hangovers come easily these days, all it takes is a couple of beers and my head feels like a wooden board with a serious case of woodworm. Denny's therefore has become one of those places which has a high probability of seeing me as a customer on Sunday mornings.

The Denny's at Davie is a very ordinary foodboer (*), filled with ordinary, mostly Caucasian people, eating very ordinary greasy dishes, served by Asian waiters and girls who didn't quite make it into the Cactus club (**). The interior is done by a designer inspired by the gray and brown 50s / 60s style that reigned supreme in American restaurants around that time.

gray and brown r0x0rz

“I'm like so full”, the chubby girl in the booth next to me whines to her friend. Nevertheless, in the same breath, she manages to stuff another greasy sausage and a big chunk of French bread with butter in her face. A slightly out-of-place Axl Rose comments over the speakers with a fitting “Welcome to the jungle baby”. The girl fails to notice this offhand irony and continues to ramble on how she's been playing hockey most of her life, but "omg" now she considers "like" quitting. Given the amount of food she continues to shove into her mouth, despite her being full, makes me wonder if that will do her already round figure much good... But as Axl states “You're a very sexy girl, that's very hard to please”.

An extremely refined and well kept lady enters Denny's. Followed by an incredible dorky looking, unkempt male. They take the booth across me. From what I can make out, the geekenstein proves to be her husband or lover, or very special friend who she likes to hold hands with in the Denny's. Whatever the case, it makes one wonder how some of these fine specimens of women end up with the most improbable doofballs ... Although some cases may be attributed to money, this one clearly doesn't. I should ask the SO sometimes, she'll probably can explain it from first hand experience.

on the lookout

“Are you done ?” the waitress with the eccentric hairdo demands to know.

“Done with everything except the coffee” I declare.

She nods and picks up my mug, plate, formerly filled with eggs, bacon and some French toast and sets off. After approximately one meter she halts and turns around.

“Sorry, what did you say ?” she likes to know.

Being well aware of my sometimes faster-than-light-mumbling-fashion of speech, I try in a clearer, slower way: “Yes I'm done, except for the coffee”.

She still looks puzzled.

“Me ... Done ... want coffee” I try.

“Oh okay, yes, I'm sorry, I'm French speaking”.

“No worries, no one is perfect” I offer with a smile “I'm Dutch”.

She seems to consider this for a moment, after which her memory prompts her to ask if I'd like more coffee. I tell her no thanks, I have enough material for my blog... more puzzled looks.

Content with a belly full of greasy substances, I set off to take a walk along the sea wall towards Stanley Park, hopefully burning some of that fat and making some pictures of the beautiful Vancouver Autumn scenery. A scenery which was originally the topic of this week's blog... But who needs pretty pictures of trees burning red when you have Denny's and Pratchet?

not the topic of this blog

(*) "Boer" literally means farmer in Dutch. Adding "boer" to a word usually indicates an establishment providing very common, unsophisticated goods or services, e.g. furnitureboer (IKEA) or consultancyboer (IBM).

(**) The Cactus club is a Yaletown Burgerboer that's known for its incredibly hot staff in short skirts. The male variant is rumored to make distinguished (female) lawyers wink involuntarily.

[1]Terry Pratchet, Reaper Man

book unrecommendation:

"How Ann Coulter is cute in the same way D.Duck is cute when he's angry and upset."

Giving it a away for free.

For War ! For Terror !

While the aura of cute and cuddly Baby continues to turn grown up men, consultants and rock stars - to - be into mush left and right, the world outside this soft pink and diaper filled universe continues to rotate around its Sun in an everyday way.

The Final Canadian Move is still in progress, world-renowned politicians over-estimate their might, nature retaliates against the onslaughts of men and George W happily continues his War of Terror aka the Pursuit of Oil and Happiness.

Being wary of the motives of the warmongering American Tsar, many of us, citizens of the world, oppose the Bush Initiative in the Middle East. As a firm believer of the "make-warcraft, not war" principle, I too hope for a swift termination of both the misguided war and Bush's career alike.

Despite this political stance, I find myself guilty of providing a significant contribution to his cause by providing him with a huge addition to the American Empire as Shiva received her American Citizenship this week.

This act of treason, occurred at the American consulate in Amsterdam. The consulate is a heavily fortified building near the Museumplein. Surrounded by a big sturdy fence and a silly security protocol, this establishment offers people the opportunity to deal with the USSA's administration. In the Anton Pieck like bowels of this outpost, we swore our daughter to partake in the glorious expansion of the most democratic nation of the world...

swearing allegiance for the baby

One week later, the American Empire grew with one citizen. And with another soul enlisted in service of the Army of the Willing, the American population gained the upper hand in our small condo. Outnumbered 2 Americans to 1 European, I had no choice but to welcome the new American overlords.

My last hope is to turn this situation into a draw, but my hope lies with the decisiveness of the Dutch civil servant establishment. So far this entity has done nothing but to whine about proportions, light, colour and other trivialities of the passport photo thus denying liberation of the American oppression ...

George W. on the other hand is delighted about his latest conquest. Last thing I heard, he's redirected one of his carriers to the duckpond in front of our building... his Republican party could use another "victory speech" prior to the upcoming elections.

A3aan noted the following

Tools of the Trade

Babies are cute and cuddly, and as a parent you tend to reward those qualities with a silly built-in response to spoil the baby. Enter the flashy baby buggies, a shiny and comfy crib, the mountain of stuffed toys, and various tools to keep your baby clean, dry, asleep and warm, shiny, oily or less whiny.

A huge pile of stuffed toys watches over the sleeping baby

Being urban parents, we also desire to have the best our money can buy. However, as parents in the current state of an intercontinental move, we´re also trying to be practical and keep the fluff to a minimum until the family reunites. In the meantime, the SO has acquired quite an amount of baby related devices over the past months. We have a multipurpose buggy, which can be extended with a baby seat or a crib (awesome Transformerlike toy for teh daddy). In the center of our apartment is the baby altar; here the munchkin gets her fresh new baby perfumed diapers. This altar is stacked with so many baby power ups, and resembles a mini chemistry science lab. We acquired a little crib from FreeCycle, which the proud grandparents upgraded to a commercial grade sleeping implementation. And somewhere on the premises is a baby bath tub with the mandatory armada of ducklets.

As grand as all these baby applications are, eventually the whole lot has to move to Canadia. So besides getting used to my new role as a full time father, this infiltration intermission also carries the theme of moving.

In between these activities, the metaphorical lightbulb appeared over my head (and where the SO thinks things went horribly wrong)...

All this baby crap is fine and dandy, but it's so goddamn bloated and redundant. Take that fancy bed grandma and grandpa built and painted... does the baby really care or know how great that bed is ? My hypothesis is, no she doesn't. To test that theory, I decorated a prime quality cardboard box with two run-of-the-mill IKEA pillows and applied the sleeping baby to it. You can see for yourselves that there is no notable difference between the baby happily sleeping in the big comfy bed or a baby sleeping in the box.

It occurred to me that this box thing has an untapped potential.

After spending some time in the design lab, I came up with the following baby utilities. While brilliant concepts, they still need a good amount of marketing for the audience to fully appreciate them... Here's a glimpse of what I have so far:

The Baby Box (tm)

The Bed Box: Build once, sleep everywhere (tm) (*). Now you can put your baby to sleep everywhere without bringing the crib, buggy or other needless and expensive material. Thanks to advanced baby technology this solution is safe (**), easy to setup, comfortable and 100 % bio degradable (***). Order your baby box now !

baby box in action

The Box Tub: Clean babies everywhere (tm). Bring the baby spa right into your living room. Unfold your box, add water and the baby, it can't be simpler than that ! (**) Watch your little clone splash, puddle and get clean in the process (***). The Box Tub is the device no proud parent can go without, order now !

Box Tub

The Buggy Box: Got wheels ? We got a buggy ! Make your neighbours jealous (***) of your baby mobile ! What more do you need to know, order now !

Ready to Roll

But that's not all: Order the baby box now and we include the free universal baby travel device extension ! And there is more ! If you order any of these products, we add a free upgrade from any of these products to any other baby box compatible item.

The Baby Box: the item no parent can go without.

---

(*) Pillows sold separately
(**) Don't try this at home
(***) Actual performance depends on your preference of box material.

I cannot see how this box concept can go wrong... If anyone feels like angel investing in this promising start up let me know.

Age: One week and a day or two

Dear Reader,

Seat yourself in your favorite chair, preferably one of the rocking kind under the reading light in your library. Spoil yourself, break open that fine bottle of red wine you kept for special occasions and pull out your secret stash of Cuban cigars. Take a deep breath as you look out of your mansion over the meadows into the setting sun. Muster all the intelligence your brain harbours, because you're going to need it as this entry peaks into the realm of diapers, burps, farts, poo and cheesy happiness. ZOMG it's baby time.

Entering fatherhood is a unique experience, which given my limited vocabulary, I can only describe as "intense". It's a touching kind of beauty to hold your offspring in your arms for the first time after the battle that is delivery - even if you play the humble role of support trooper. When your SO holds the kid and winks away a tear, it's little less than heartbreaking - in a good way. You have no choice, but that little package of flesh and bones immediately becomes the single most most precious thing in the world. Everything she does is the most endearing event ever.

baby - spa in Voorburg takes care of every aspect of your toddler

Personally I never had a thing with those screaming crying little gnomes who's obvious pink butt-ugliness was visible to everybody, but their parents. The fact that what I wrote in the previous section and mean every word of it, took me completely by surprise... I was totally unprepared for it in every way possible.

Not everything is bliss however. It's by no means a flawless and painless pink cloud one ends up in, those who claim otherwise should be "kicked in the face" to paraphrase the SO.

First victim of your beloved squirmy former parasite is your night's rest. The critter is on a three hour cycle of feeding, sleeping, waking, crying, pooping and peeing and nothing is going to stop it... So say hello to night and very early morning shifts. Also welcome sleep deprivation, sluggishness, irritability and absentmindednesses... Effectively, luckily nothing changed for me there.

What you thought you knew is worth squat now. You're a target driven, highly motivated team player, who excels in communication and professionalism and what not ? Congratulations - you're dealing with a new "team" member who couldn't care less. What it does care about are your diaper skillz, pacifying 133theid and feeding pro-ness ( also it doesn't mind body heat - any body heat)

a cute baby == a sleeping baby

Diapers , to start with, look deceptively easy right, put the baby in them and close it up ? Maybe you - dearest reader - are a natural and you missed your calling, diapering babies with your eyes closed. But most likely you'll go through one or more wet and stinky jeans before you get the hang of attaching them to a squirmy, screaming creature at 3:00 AM. As an added bonus I hope you won't object against removing juicy feces just after you worked on a quick snack...

Furthermore, what's the difference between a screaming baby, a crying baby and a howling baby ? Initially it will all be the same to you. The kid may operate in binary communication mode, to cry or not to cry, but there subtle signals which may help you understand if it needs food, release some gaseous bottom air, a clean diaper or merely doesn't want to be alone yet. Interpret incorrectly and you'll end up with more frustrating and unstoppable howling. Equip yourself with endless patience and alertness and life will become better quite fast. I understand from objective and knowing sources some good night rest can help ... night rest ... oh ... right.

Feeding is actually quite easy. If you're the male. Or use some baby milk formula. Since there are apparently great benefits to be gained from pure natural mother milk, the SO decided to go the way of the booby food. She got herself a nice book on the topic, explaining how much fun breastfeeding is and how to do it. The books comes with a fitting glossy 80s looking soft pr0n cover.

feeding the easy way

After a week of this endless bliss and fun, the SO is currently trying to figure where the author lives and put some jumper cables on her nipples to see if said author is capable of feeling anything at all. If so the same author may receive "a kick in the face", to quote the SO. Apparently breastfeeding can be quite "uncomfortable". I wouldn't know, as my boobs are of no interest to our offspring, but the SO's faces of agony give me a hint whenever our precious little darling latches on.

But dear reader, at the end of the day every problem or inconvenience you will encounter will turn out to be completely meaningless and worthwhile ... when you end up with shots like these.

Baby surrenders

- Happy Dad Out.

There's a new chick in town

Shiva Antare Sur Lassche

24th of August, 2007

Born at 14:10 in the Bronovo Hospital in The Hague

3.12 Kgs and 51 cm long




Mom & Daughter are doing fine

(teh Daddy too)

and a little movie....

Tough Questions

Uncovering urban lifestyle, contemporary trends and other (Canadian) peculiarities from a totally biased and nonobjective European perspective. Infiltration, intrigues, wonder and more ...

Next week I’m to report back to “de Dutch”, as it affectionately has become known here in Canadia. Not only will I get my evaluation on the infiltration process, but also we (the SO & me) are welcoming a new life to this cozily overcrowded planetoid. Therefore, things may get a little quiet on this end of the blogosphere for a while… or even worse: it may end up filled with baby shots.

unrelated random picture: it's my huge vacuum, the laundry sneaked in on this picture as well

In the meantime, this upcoming event offers yet another appropriate opportunity for some reflection.

One day, sooner or later our offspring is going to wonder what ‘we’ did for him / her. And by ‘we’ I mean us; I mean you, me, them. What are the defining moments of our generation and how do we evaluate these against previous generations?

To put that in perspective, our parental genetic pool achieved some remarkable things in ‘their’ time. ‘They’ put men on the moon. Feminists liberated the women (and enslaved and sissified man). Reason ended the oppression (segregation) of religion (in the Netherlands). Conspiracy killed JFK.

Europe was lifted onto its feet through the Marshall plan and begat prosperity in the West. Prosperity meant a car for everyone, mass-media TV and planes. However, Prosperity brought its long time lover, Exploitation. The two happily polluted and drained our blue little globe.
Europe saw the birth of the European Union, effectively ending the good old tradition of waging war on ones neighbours. War, deprived of any meaningful job in Europe, found a new occupation somewhat more to the east of Europe, where Israel's birth (and continuing existence) was far from painful.

Hippies and sexual revolution. The Beatles, the Stones, Elvis, Jimmy Hendrix.

This picture makes an awesome but totally unrelated wallpaper for your desktop.

So, let’s make up the balance for our generation, starting off with the not-so-pretty list... you know the things we should find a way to blame the previous generation for:

• Paris Hilton, Britney Spears. However, we pass the blame to their parents.
• George W. Bush’s War of Terror. 9/11. Iraq. We could also blame his parents.
• Global warming. Sure, our parents gave us the bad example. Sure, we were warned. Somehow that didn’t stop us from driving those cars and dumping inconvenient stinky stuff all over the place.
  
• The incident on that square in China. Not so nice.
• The beauty obsession, and ironically, the growing number of obese people.
• Excessive commercial greed. Patent frenzy, the breakdown of public commodities.
• The demise of proper language and the rise of 1337-speak. (QFT, me <- ROFLed @ this !1!11!1!one!11!)
• When is AIDs going to be a “just a minor inconvenience”?
• Reality TV shows.
• The Yugoslavian war, Rwandan murders, Ethiopian famines and whatever else was not 'commercially' viable but morally unacceptable.
  
• lolcats
  

The things we can happily and most proudly claim:

• We ended the Cold War. Less chance of an all out nuclear war is generally considered a good state of being
• The digital revolution, including the Internet, email, mobile communications, mass storage dvds / cds, wiki, and of course, mlassche.blogspot.com
• Genetic engineering cloned a sheep and probably a whole new generation of North Korean rulers.
  
• Despite what those Brits think, England is no longer an island, as ‘we’ connected it to France.
  
• Iran and Iraq are no longer in open war… though it’s debatable if their current status is much better.
• The introduction of the Euro took away a lot of headaches while traveling through Euroland.
• Apartheid ended. Mandela was released.
• Some utterly creative brilliance: Transformers, the Simpsons, Star wars, LoTR movies, Aliens, South Park, Beavis and Butthead.
• We ended the horrids of the 80s music and found the simple beauty of grunge.
  
• Smoking is finally and recognized as something universally bad for the general health. Although some countries still are taking time to recognize this within their borders.
  
• Expansion of the Global Market and cultural intermixing. Although it remains to be seen if the rise of China and India will eventually be a good thing for our planet – the West made (and is still making) a mess out of things… why will they be different?
• Angelina Jolie, Jenifer Anniston, Pointy Ears.

It's most likely an incomplete and subjective list, possibly even wrong and not so impressive at all. So when questioned by my offspring, I guess I will resort to the tricks of our ancestors and selectively chose which item of what list goes to what generation. Yeah, that will work... or as our future genetic copies will say: Generation X FTW LOL !1!!1!eleven!1!

Are you ready for teh War ? George is.