I felt less buggy yesterday, so I toddled over to the monkaterium to check in. All I do in this city is check in. Check in with Timo. Check in at the lab. I need to find a project. My dad always said, if you're bored, find a project.
I just missed Rick and Donovan carting a stinker out to pasture. Pasture in this case being some big empty space in the middle of Holland called the Veluwe. Don't ask me to pronounce it. According to Timo, D just happened to be passing by the canal bike place by the Leidseplein where some drunk Brits were bringing their bike back late. The thing starts rocking and all of sudden a stinker is hanging off the back and the nobodies are in the water. A drunk Brit in a canal is not, by itself, going to attract a lot of attention in Amsterdam, so D pulled the stinker out, brought him in and he and Rick carted him off.
I haven't seen a stinker here yet but apparently there's a few wandering around in the canals. In fact, I've probably seen less than 50 ever, not counting the movies. Bodies just don't last long enough anymore. But Timo thinks part of his sacred mission is to save them (from what? rotting?) so he stashes them in the big Dutch empty. And he compounds the pointlessness by calling them (wait for it) Old Ones. Oy. It's like a hyper lame prog rock concept album: And The Old Ones danced through the Forest of LIght / Into the Glade of the Glistening Night / then their arms fall off and they eat you.
In the US we call them stinkers, moaners, farts, shitbags, slowpokes, Tom and Katie, goths, waylon (I think it's a corruption of "abuelo"). There's a ton of them. My favorite is Romerian. "My stinky, moaning friend? Oh, he's just Romerian." "Isn't that near Hungary?" "Closer than you think." Ha.(3? I keep forgetting I'm supposed to be coding this for "identification with other minds". But it's a crappy measure. Invalid. Unreliable.)
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