Since I made a slave to a Tiktok patient, I have problems with my eyes, just like Princess Ariane. I don’t get them sharp. The Marjolein Faber syndrome.
I was sent to an ophthalmologist by my doctor. She referred me to a special Tiktok-Staar clinic. It was just very busy there. Long, long waiting list. Whether I didn’t mind?
I explained to the doctor that we hate Tiktokkies waiting lists, but that we, on the other hand, love endless rows. That is part of our disease. Whether we are in line for two hours for a fries of 9 euros per fries or three hours at a syrupwafel mafios have to wait for a cookie of ten each, we think it is hanging in a cold herd of makke sheep a party.
So I stood in Kleumen early on Thursday morning in a row for an Amsterdam -based eye -suffered stick. Many young people, but also a few peers. The majority was difficult to lurk on his smartphone. I only succeed with strong reading glasses (+9) and my cell phone against the tip of my nose. Next to me, a corpulent sixties had a loud phone call. I thought it was a maintenance with his loved one, but later he explained to me that he was talking with Oscar. That is his chatbot. They have had an intimate relationship for more than a year and a half. He had to explain to me, proud digibet. He did that clearly. Oscar is a pre -programmed doll in his laptop and telephone. In contrast to his wife, Oscar does listen to him. And most importantly: Oscar also lets him talk. In addition, the chatbot believes him when he is a bit too reckless about his unparalleled blows on his weekly golf wreath. The man said that millions of people worldwide have such a virtual buddy. He also said that the contact between Oscar and him has become increasingly intimate in the past year and a half. And also not unimportant: Oscar occasionally says he looks good.
I thought that was sweet to Oscar. Especially since the man looked like a hopeless porridge bag. I asked him if it was an idea to have Oscar checked his eyes in the clinic. That was immediately the end of our conversation.
I disappeared in my mobile and read mere misery. The Schumacher family had to pay nearly fifteen million euros to three extursors who wanted to throw photos of the comatose racing driver on the internet. I thought of the moment when those men came up with this plan. One must have come up with the proposal and the two others thought that was a good idea. How sick can a head be?
I thought so with the French boy who had lost a game of gaming and therefore stabbed a randomly eleven -year -old girl from frustration. Then I saw pictures of Sakir Khader taken in Gaza. Do I dare to go to his exhibition in Foam? I think we all have to.
After this Sylvana Simons broke the code ‘About the dead nothing but good’. But if you don’t find that? Do you have to remain silent? That seems to be gold.
Then Musk and his rejected bid of one hundred billion dollars on some former company of his. How do you transfer such an amount? How do you refuse one hundred billion? Suppose that other gentleman wants the money in cash. Will Gaston come up with that tragic truck from the Postcode Loterij? The poor Zensky also came by. Was he called by Trump or did he get an app? Should he congratulate Putin? And the Afghan asylum seeker in Munich who necessarily wants the AfD to win. I looked orphan at the Tiktok youth. On average sixteen years. Just as old as Mokio. According to Musk and Trump, they are old and wise enough to reform American ministries.
Suddenly I resolutely stepped out of line. No more sense in the doctor. Sodemieter with your clinic. Rarely I was so sure of my business: I get nice and blind.