The day you knew would come..

2017, Thursday February 2nd, "the day that you knew would come".  The day that made me realize that the time passes very quickly and that the decline, irreversibly connected with aging is an irreversible process.  I remember Argentine tears flowing down the cheeks and chin into the Royal cleavage during the wedding day of, the then still princely, couple of Orange.  Yes, today our Dutch King is married 15 years to the daughter of a dictatorship criminal minister. Not that its something she can be blamed for more than other children of criminals, murderers and terrorists.  It is a fine example of immigrant assimilation this Dutch Royal family, in which a lot of medieval bastard and Royal houses dna flowed thru their blood veins, before the grandmother of the King married a German, whereby the offspring of the Orange family became half German and for the other half "anything and everything".  And Yes, the marriage of the King's mother was also with a, extremely nice, Lord from the beer and bratwurst country, therefor the present King has just few percent Dutch "culture and tradition dna" in him. It’s not a surprising that he, as the heir to the throne, as opposed to "Closing borders Geertje Wilders" who could only find a candidate for a residence permit in Eastern Europe, went of searching for a bit more mettle and less "thoroughness" and found a bride in Argentina.  Meanwhile, the man  –  with whom I once have had an informal conversation over a glass of beer and a cigarette, so actually I belong to a select group of people like some directors of the Shell, oil sheikhs, Bilderberg participants and dictator Putin, – has three daughters of which you really would not believe they’re only third generation immigrants.  A large part of the Dutch people embraces the Royal family, as they do populist Wilders and his Eastern European wench, it stands in big contrast to the way they express themselves in everyday life about immigrants and refugees.  No, I'm not invited to the party, despite the fact that I have a Royal booklet with a stamp of the national security service that, after a thorough examination, there is no danger for the Prince of Orange to meet me, and a good friend and business partner, following an exhibition we designed and supervised on the past, the present and the future of a region in the province of Groningen.  Granted, the optimism in the exposition, about the future of Groningen, now a rubble-earthquake area, was a little premature.  The friendship between me and the, by now crowned king, shareholder of Shell, the multinational which, together with the Dutch Government is responsible for the misery in which the inhabitants of Groningen are now without taking any responsibility, was soon cooled down.  We each went our own way, he, dodging taxes, to his Castle or one of his vacation palaces on the world and I went, with a by taxmen ransacked wallet, to a small house on a lonesome Portuguese hill.  The contrast is not as great as it seems, we both still drink a beer sometimes, both have a beautiful wife, both just not add a lot to the society and both have a fence around the garden.... for which I had to pay myself of course ...