Since we were talking about (here it is again! breath even deeper!) post-modern-gender-studies-kinda-girls, it would seem that I have been memed by Stevie. Hurrah! Or should that be Haro?
[I leave the further investigation of this pretty esoteric interlinguistic joke to the interested reader, who must, I will admit, be versed quite steeply in the language of Molière. Anyways, if you still feel inclined to find out about my, depending on your personal taste, nerdy or outerworldly brilliant sense of humour, here is the link.]
This means (1) that I have to check out the blogs I have linked to in the sidebar more often (2) that I have to find out what memed actually means.
These days undertaking that kind of endeavour (Actually, did you know that Endeavour is Inspector Morse's first name? No? Now you do. Do you not cream yourself out of pure gladness for knowing that? No thanks, dear reader. I aim to please. Especially by directing your undivided attention unto such interesting facts) is actually very simple.
It also means (3) that from now on I can for once and ever consider myself "the coolest Antwerpenaar" [Hurrah! Or should that be Haro? But I digress] on this planet, a description I can imagine quite a few people would disagree with. Quite a few people are wrong of course. They do not know their shit from their faeces. But thanks anyway, Stevie.
An 'Antwerpenaar', dear readers, is, by the way, an inhabitant of the wonderful city of Antwerp, the foremost racist city in Europe. [albeit in close rivalry with other wonderful cities like Orange, where they actually have, apart from a wonderful theatre out of Roman times that still stands, a racist mayor. If you do not believe that they have a racist mayor in Orange, then go here and, by following the link la municipalité, stare into the degenerated faces of the town council] So foremost racist that when there is an election over here, that is, once every six years, broadcasting companies and newspapers from all over the world send in their serfs to come and watch if this time around the Ringleader of The Tormentors of All People of Good Taste, one Filip Dewinter (being a man of good taste I will obviously not link to this mental dwarf), will become mayor this time around.
That fact aside, dear readers, Antwerp is indeed a pretty wonderful city, were it only because I live there. And, rather of course, because the even more wonderful, intensely interesting, so ever present that you would think he has at least 7 clones of himself walking around and, thus, not to forget the least of his qualities, outright brilliant Tom Barman (so brilliant that you can actually see Belgium from out of space, or was that because we leave the lights on at night on our freeways? I keep forgetting) lives there as well. But, once again, I digress. Could that be because I have been memed? I wonder. Help me out, dear reader.
Because being memed is no slight responsability, it would seem. It would also mean that I have to (1) share with you no less than 5(!) things that you do not know about me and then (2) go and harrass 5 of my co-bloggers so that they can do the same with 5 other blogospherians (Mommy! I have again discovered a new word! "Blogospherian": "(virtual) inhabitant of the blogosphere". Brittannica, mail me, call me, offer me a job in the neologist department!). Luckily for you, dear readers, an up to no good at all bandit has robbed me of my daily pills and I might, in the poor mental state that I am currently residing in, just be inclined do exactly that.
Luckily for me, on the other hand, the last remnants of mental sanity, that I stubbornly refuse to part from - in contrast to the majority of the people of this sad, sad planet, I may as well add - forbid me to do just that. Have you also noticed, dear reader, to digress even further, that me is actually a half of meme? But I digress again. It is becoming, in the short span of this post, a habit.
Why, you ask? Speak to us, coolest Antwerpenaar on this planet! Do not rob us of the endlessly interesting answer to this question! Because, being the coolest Antwerpenaar on the planet, I must remain a mystery to you, dear reader. Is it not already bad enough that I am showing my outerworldly nerdiness by posting at least one message in a virtual bottle a day about such things as my opinions on music, literature, politics, religion or, even worse, post-modernism, thereby betraying the fact that I am a man. Because no women or girl in her right mind would post at least once a day about such boring topics. That is, unless that women/girl is in fact a post-modernist. No thanks, Julia Kristeva, for pointing the world into your interesting direction. You deserve it! As long as I do not have to read you, that is. (Once again, dear reader, not reading Julia Kristeva requires some knowledge of the French language. I will, however, for those who are not versed in the language of Sarko et Ségo, give away that naughty girl Julia is punning good old Chateaubriand on this page. Although it remains to be seen whether femininity and christanity can be geniuses at the same time. Have you ever wondered about that, Julia?)
Have you noticed that I keep on digressing, dear reader? In fact, I am beginning to think that the whole of this post is one big digression. And all this to tell good old, sweet Stevie that I have become too old a tosser to seriously consider sharing with this world 5 things they do not know about me. Let us keep it that way. You happy, dear reader, me even more happy.
By the way, the reader who, after this and the previous post has not found out at least five things about me that he did not know, might as well be blind, stupid, or, even more probable, both.