You’ll almost miss Rutte

YoI don’t know what I consumed with more fascination, the photo of the terrace on the cover of Fidelity yesterday, or the beautiful story NRC on the transfer of power from the old to the new cabinet.

In that story, Petra de Koning and Lamyae Aharouay describe the new ministers having to deal with a slippery parquet floor at Huis ten Bosch Palace and accidentally raising their fingers in the air as they took the oath. The screens showing the European Championship match that were set up during the presentation to the parliamentary press and how VVD member Karremans only got Fleur Agema to cheer (‘Whooo!’). Rutte’s wet eyes as he is serenaded by a chorus of officials and the dwindling group of photographers who race with him as he cycles away from the Torentje for the last time.

It’s strange how one almost misses such a politician, just because the group he paved the way for is so much more terrible.

Marjolein Faber looks like she’s straight out of a 1930s movie

And then the landing photo. Like an AI image, mostly with people we don’t really know. In the center, next to the king, is a man who was until recently unknown. His resemblance to the eccentric actor Billy Bob Thornton (from Fargo) makes me imagine all sorts of things about what goes on behind the scenes.

And if we take a cinematic approach: on the top right is Marjolein Faber, who looks like she stepped out of a film about the 1930s. An external association that is not far from her statements and actions. There is also a muskrat hunter, a participant Farmer seeks wife and someone from Ongehoord Nederland.

Until recently, most of this group barely existed in the collective experience. Now these numbers suddenly take a very prominent place.

A bit like with the Dutch national team, if you are not a football fan. Before the start of the European Championships, I was cycling with my son (the first in a long family line who really loves football) and he asked me if I thought the name Kodiegakpoo really existed. Assuming he had invented it himself, I started to make a rough calculation of whether I might ever meet someone with that name.

No one leaves home without a Memphis headband

We now know Cody Gakpo well at home, as do his teammates, thanks in part to the Albert Heijn football tickets shoved down our throats, so that our entire family knows the entire team by heart. No one goes out without a Memphis headband anymore. A group of men whom, with one exception, we had rarely heard of in the past month, have taken center stage in our home.

A bit like that strange new cabinet. But instead of big goals, the Boardes Club comes up with nasty ideas and questionable plans.

We’ll wait and watch to see how far both clubs go and if that’s far enough to become part of our collective memory.

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