In case you didn't know, some good things have come from Belgium. Let's have a look at some of those good things, shall we?
1. Jeanne-Paul Marie Deckers aka Luc Gabriel aka Soeur Sourire aka The Singing Nun. You know, the wimpled songbird who gave us Dominique. Yes, the song is a daggy guilty pleasure to be sure, but it's fun to sing (or in my case: croak) along with it. As it happens, this woman had a shit life after this, but she had the guts to also release a song that supported the notion of contraception, a brave move, given she was a Catholic nun during the Sixties.
2. Jozef De Veuster aka Father Damien of Molokai. The missionary who cared for Hawaiian lepers was born in Belgium.
3. Roger François Jouret aka Plastic Bertrand, who gave us Ca Plane Pour Moi. Yes, another daggy guilty pleasure and my pogoing days are behind me, not that I was ever much for pogoing, but the nonsensical number with the hyperactive beat sure could fill a dance floor. Don't read the English translation, because except for the chorus, "that glides for me", which was a kind of slang for "I'm cool with that", the rest is random lunacy.
4. Technotronic. More guilt, I know. But hey, who among us will willingly admit they danced to Pump Up The Jam during the Nineties? I did. Guilty as charged, m'lud.
5. Stella Artois. This is my favourite beer. I don't drink much beer; maybe the occasional light or no-alcohol beer on a hot day. However, for those times when I really would like a "proper" beer, it is for a good old Stella I shall reach.
But you can probably guess what my favourite thing out of Belgium is right now. Yep. It's the De Rode Duivels aka Les Diables Rouges aka The Red Devils aka the Belgian soccer team. From an Aussie writer and blogger who rarely follows sport: YOU GUYS FUCKEN ROCK!
I think most people were barracking for the Belgian side in the wake of that utterly nauseating display of corruption and cronyism by two presidents, one being an amorphous blob of rotting mango that occupies the Oval Office and the other being a clod who runs FIFA. Seriously, does nobody employed by the White House have the cojones to tell Trump that the optics of his request that FIFA review the red card given to Folarin Balogun are seriously and severely hazardous? We all know Trump reads a room like Mr Magoo reads the cooking instructions on a packet of frozen chicken nuggets, but does NOBODY have the sense to point out that hey, you know, this just might look pretty bad, given the near sanctity of a referee's decision in a sporting game, one without perceived external interference? I'm guessing not. And for Trump to actually admit he doesn't know about soccer, but to request a review anyway, is beyond pathetic. Does nobody tell this bloated blowhard "No", at all? Actually, some women probably have told him this, but we know his views on his own entitlement..
But not only did the Belgian team shit all over the USA team, they mocked Trump by performing his signature dance (the one that looks like performing duelling hand jobs). The team then added some salt with this tweet:
So, yeah. You go Belgium. You drove the Karma Bus magnificently, and for that, we thank you. That, along with the beer and borderline Eurotrash tunes.
