Unsurprisingly, I didn't get high. Or stoned, for that matter. Blame it on Mladic, Ratko. Please allow me to explain. Friends of my friends are my friends, so when H. suggested to bring along L., a friend of his who has been living in Amsterdam for ages, to dinner, I said: yeah! Sometimes I think I'm not saying yeah enough. Perhaps it's because I don't get high enough. Anyhoo, I made dinner, a 3 course dinner no less, with a little help from the wife, and we waited. That is, we waited for H., who was still at his hotel, waiting for L., who was still at her job reporting on the trial against aforementioned Ratko, waiting for the judge to finally cut off his latest rant. This all took forever. Sure, I'm a big believer in justice for all, but what's the point of Ratko's rant, when we're waiting to have dinner? Can someone convince Ratko that it is wiser to leave the ranting to your lawyer during a trial before the International Criminal Court? Maybe his lawyer has tried to do so, but hadn't been succesful. Can someone convince Ratko that he needs a new lawyer? I heard that the judge eventually switched off his microphone to shut him up. Can someone convince the judge that shutting off a microphone is not enough to shut a man up, especially when his name is Ratko Mladic? Before we went to bed after the late, late dinner, I took another snort from my bag of weed and thought: where did I go wrong? (To be continued.)
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