An ode to Trash

Didn't you ever think about how good trash is looking?

Trash in all its different colors: Cartons, papers, plastic, meal-rests, bottles, styrofoam... broken apart, in pieces... Trash is so deversified! Every trash is a masterpiece. No one resembles an other in trashkind. It must be art. Trash does change. Colors turn pale after a while, papers change and even disappear by erosion. Meal-rests get green fur...

And Amsterdam is the Most Modern Museum of Trash Art. People seem carefully place their masterpiece on that particular place in the streets, so that everyone can see it. The mass does it. A beautiful read-yellow pommes frites carton of McDonalds is highly appreciated next to a blue Albert Heijn supermarket plastic bag. You can't really tell what's the best composition of trash. Everything makes a whole in itself. It's a new medium of touching, you are actively in touch with that kind of art by just walking in the streets through trash art. And it's not even a pity if you destroy the arrangement, 'cause every single change in the trash composition is creating a new meaning and view on the artwork.

Dear people in the world: Let's make the Earth to a huge trash can. We are on a good way.

The good guys!

Time is sprinting... in some cases. Time is walking like a handicaped... most of the cases. If I was the trainer of Time, I would give him some legs disabling substance in his Gatorate drink for the days where he shouldn't run so fast. And for certain days that should pass very rapid, I would stick a candle into his ass and lighten it.

Rob and Bob are working on their own these days, because there isn't a lot to do. All clients are pleased with campaigns that are now in production. So for filling our portfolio with big fat burgers and french fries and a 0,5 high fat coke, so that we have a nice book with real cool ads when we finish school, we go to McDonald's.

We heard about junkies that sell bikes in the streets for 10 to 30 euros. If there is a junkie who reads this, then please come to Keizersgracht 253 and ring the bell. Ask for Rob & Bob.
We haven't met one so far, only stupid cocaine dealers. Are our noses so big or why do you ask us? And at the end comes out that it is probably a german. One came to us and asked in english "Hey, do you need something?". We walked further. Then he said "Hey, stop!. We stopped and turned around. "What time is it?" -"11pm!" -"Want cocaine?" -"No thanks!" And then they are really pissed off that we are "not baking cake with flour". Shit happens, but cocaine never to us.

Bad in religion...

If there was a modern Jesus, he would probably do his Last Supper in the Supper Club Amsterdam. There it is white, totally white and only the people add some color to it. I think this is exactly Jesus' taste. There he can share his bread and turn water into wine. But it would be a pity or a disaster if someone spills it. The nice white policy (which we know from Springer & Jacoby). Let's hope he thinks of bringing salt!
And people can eat the bread while they lie. Like romans. They can feel like Cesar while having the Last Supper... oh what a contradiction!
Nevertheless we were going to a place called Supper Club for having a drink. It is located in a small, very very narrow street, a little street, let's call it streety. If you don't have a clue that the club is there, then you probably won't find it while passing by. You recognize the door only at the second sight, even if it should be your first sight, 'cause when your eyes catch the doors appearance, it is enormous then. It's a golden door with all the members on badges on it. And only a small door sign saying "Supper Club". We rang the bell...
Then a second time, then a third time, I think at the fourth ring we heard the door unlock. We opened it and there he stood: a genie. He has a bold head and wears légère clothes. With his seducing voice, he asked us innocent children what he could do for us. We'd like to have a drink if possible. Though there was a company having their supper, we were allowed to enter the restaurant, the Supper Club, which is a club at night. Entering the white policy was overwhelming. The emperors on their beds watching us, we walked towards bar. And the rest you know: We turned water into wine, no it was beer, but nobody got betrayed. And bread were deilicious bits and Jesus was a masseuse, turning human skin into Playdoh. Nice, nice...

A conversation with Idea

+ "Hey, where have you been?"
- "I was held up."
+ "Dude, I was looking for you for such a long time now. And you don't even say Sorry?"
- "Look, I couldn't make it earlier. Trust me when I say something."
+ "You went out with Uninspiration, am I right?"
- "No! And if so, what about it? You know that I always come back."
+ "Listen, I only do not want that you get into trouble. Don't hang out with those guys, what are their names again... Lazyness, Distraction and... and... and Uninspiration."
- "What against them?"
+ "They are bad! They are absolutely not good for you!"
- "Well, I think I can decide myself with which people I meet. Why are you so afraid?"
+ "I'd just like seeing you more often."
- "How often?"
+ "Hmmm... Like everyday. And several times that day then."
- "You ask quite a lot of me. I mean I like to come to you! But don't be sad if sometimes I have different things to do."
+ "Idea, I just need to see you a bit more often. Can you come this evening?"
- "Is it a love story now?"
+ "Yes, I do love you. And I want to spend time with you! I like your presence!"
- "Oh!"
+ "If you are afraid, I invite TimeManagement, Concentration and Thinking for tonight as well."
- "Yeah, well, sounds quite okay to me."
+ "Nice! So see you tonight."
- "Alright. Bye."

A cocktail of different feelings

Sometimes it is not as you wished it to be. Problems can always occur... unexpected. If in private life or at work, all you want is the good, but it goes another direction instead... but it wasn't intended that way. And at the end you have some problems laying on your table and in your mind... which you want to have solved. It's not easy... but you try and try and try... and it hurts if it goes on just very slowly...

We found a beer in the supermarket shelves. Our desire for a strong tasting beer went so far, that our hands couldn't resist to grab the strongest beer of all: Grolsch Kanon. The name fits like the fist on the eye (german saying). It is indeed like a canon that bombs your mouth with its 11.6 % alcohol. Somehow it is cool to get the mouth a little fucked up. And maybe it's our little sadistic vein, that makes us feel that great pain with pleasure. After a while you get used to it anyway. The first attack hurts most... like some guys of the history know... because it comes unexpected and silent.
If I was a beggar or will become one later, that's great business, then I will buy Kanon for sure. It warms you up and doesn't cost a fortune. And I will have panpipes and do the Peruvian on the street. And when I am done I take off my poncho and walk home with my suit case. Full of dollars.
God meant it good with us: When we walked to our favorite Wok To Walk restaurant, where you can choose between rice and noodles plus meat and sauce, we heard loud shouts of people. It was clear for us that a soccer match was the reason for it. Tons of teens and adults went then over a big place and then into a small but long shopping street. Rob & Bob just a few meter behind them. God wanted that we take some money from the cash machine on the way, so it was our destiny to gain some more meters of distance to them. This morning we read in the news that fans of Ajax Amsterdam destroyed several shops and stole things. We just robbed the Wok To Walk of some good food... but we did it nicely and without destroying... we prefer destroying our mouth with a Kanon... hehehe

By the way: Nothing can happen to us... No one would like to get into trouble with the Quattro Gatti Gang... And Fat Cat, the punisher, is always around us...

"Attack on the taste buds"

Still alive!

We got captured by aliens. They made experiments with us. But we don't remember what exactly happened. Now we have stupid looking wires coming out of our body. But we are back in Amsterdam. And cheese is still not that cheap as we thought. "Holland, the country of cheese (and tulips)!" We thought there's a cheese flatrate here. Cheese All-you-can-eat offers. But it isn't so.

God, please give us a hammer to nail down that campaign! I mean, we've got the nails... and they are good... hurricane and tornado proof we would say. The pitch is giving us a hard time... May 16th is presentation day, so a stressful time is coming. We just made an idea of what cool things we could do in our spare time. When the day comes, we will write about what the idea was.

If you have a fetish for orange, if orange is the color of your desires, if you go crazy when you see orange, if you buy oranges not for eating but because of the color, if you prefer bengal and not siberian tigers, if you are sad that there aren't so many orange sweet peppers, if you are one of those who say that the color between red and green of a traffic light is orange and not yellow, if you wished to adopt a baby of an indian (native american) and chinese couple, and if you simply like orange a bit... then come to Holland on 30th of April!
The city is full of orange then, because it's Queens Day and people go crazy on boats and all over the city... we never saw such a huge city party with such a friendly atmosphere, though everybody was drinking. Soundbombing music from everywhere. Amsterdam was a mess after that. Knee-high rubbish. The dutch queen must be cool: allowing smoking pott and throwing a party of that caliber. Gonna thank her for that.

Around the corner is a small street where our favorite cafe is in. We spend there hours for concepting, eating and visiting our friend. His name is Pacino. We already have a deep relation-ship to him. We got an offer to join his clan. He had a mate, called Al. But that one got run over by a car. His favorite song was "You can call me Al" by Paul Simon. Pacino likes sitting on our laps... eating the rest of the tuna sandwich and talking about serious problems. Problems of men. The pic is him in his office when he makes plans of the next assassination on the next damn rat, and hands the mission over to Fat Cat (remember the fat cat with the shaved butt??).


Fat Cat is back!!! She is the puncher of Pacino. She has been to Italy making deals with Capone. We are lucky she came back without injuries. Fat Cat can knock you down. Easily. With its little finger... Don't cross her path when it's dark! The restaurant across the street is an "authentic italian restaurant" called Quattro Gatti (four cats). Of course that is just fake. In reality it is the headquarter of the Quattro Gatti gang: Pacino, Fat Cat and Rob&Bob. The payment is good. We start our job next week.

So far, so good...