Coffee of the day for me too

Yesterday, I walked downtown to get a haircut at my favorite hairdresser. Machine cut as usual; quick, cheap and easy. Later I went to a coffee shop nearby (not the Amsterdam-type of coffee shop, but a place that just sells coffee).

The girl in front of me in the line ordered the coffee of the day, a blend of Ethiopian and Kenyan beans. “One for me too”, I said.

I picked up a newspaper from the shelf by the counter. It was the Saturday issue of what used to be the paper of the Marxist-Leninist party. It's still quite, and still quite good. However, they have given up the idea of armed revolution. Very good; I dislike everything armed.

I sat down by a small table and started to read. I read about a drunk 39-year old female politician. She fucked an even more drunk 17 year old boy in a farm field at a wedding party. Voluntary sex, no victim, no problem. I read about a male left-party politician accused of sexual harassment of women. “We always believe the victims”, says the party. “No need to hear the man's version, no need to investigate anything. He's guilty, no doubt.”

I had chosen a bad table, by the door between the outer and inner room of the shop. It was annoying when people passed through the narrow door. I happened to touch the big butt of a chubby woman. She had a nice ass, but it wasn’t my fault. She rubbed her chunky ass against my hand, probably not on purpose. I hope this will not be a #metoo, because anyone who claims to be a victim is always right. That’s the new law of the land.

(Picture taken yesterday while walking down to town)