“I increasingly think that we are back in the 1930s,” I heard a twentysomething say at the fish specialist down the street, where I only come for fresh herring and where I occasionally contribute something about FC Volendam or Vitesse, but never to discuss the bigger events on this planet. No one responded substantively, including me.
At the same time, it wasn’t the first time I heard it. I hear it more and more, but it wasn’t like they were working on emergency packages in the 1930s. According to my mother Paula van Roosmalen-Breekelmans, she no longer has to experience it all, but she was from 1931, people in the thirties were not concerned with anything at all.
“They were way too busy for that.”
The first thing her father did when the war finally started was to stop buying newspapers.
I have the opposite reaction.
I just want to know what they think in all the camps. That’s why I occasionally watch X, where the level drops below questionable levels, which is not always at the expense of the entertainment value.
Publicist, let’s call her that, Ebru Umar photographed four front pages on Wednesday NRC and wrote underneath: ‘How can it not be about Iran on the front page for days?’
She forgot to mention that she had arranged newspapers on her kitchen table in such a way that she had covered the part of the reporting that was about Iran.
The most surprising thing was that she apparently has a (trial) subscription, which she probably furiously checks every day for incomplete or failing reporting, excellent fuel to keep her one-person hate factory running.
Virtual polder
It is a bit reminiscent of Caroline van der Plas, who stomps through the virtual polder like a Swiss cow with a huge bell around her neck, sounding the alarm about the lousy reporting and the lack of attention paid by other politicians to Iran, but who herself forgets to join when it is finally discussed in the House of Representatives and continues to ring when it turns out that political opponents actually have the same opinion.
Can happen, no reason to withdraw the droppings. ‘Poop, don’t sweep’, she probably reasons, the stupid people should have given her more seats. You cannot be everywhere at the same time, a small fraction has to be chosen and the nitrogen file is also there.
How nice for the 1930s that there were no social media back then.
The journalistic principles of NRC