#sinisterized

[emmafrostcovercollection]

Immoral X Men #1 (2023) - Noto Connecting Variant

[witchof-hearts]

hmm

kirei is kind of ougicore now that i think about it

[ophidian-petals]

Sinistram Viam - 1

Early on in my magickal and occult journey I took on a motto, I don't remember it other than its initials being PCLLC and that the two L's stood for Lux Lucis... I used google translate or something... I was not master at languages. It meant, "inner union of light and darkness." I believed that everyone was either born to the Right Hand of the Lamb or the Left Hand of the Goat. I felt I was in between despite having a feeling of being drawn to the Dark Side... not in the sense of hurting people, but I do admit I can be rather amoral at times especially when I was younger before the venom of Christianity crept into my veins... more on that later. I don't have anything against anyone that is Christian, but when they begin to act big and bad, then they can go bugger off! Yes, I'm an American, but I will always be drawn to Britain and the Old Country.

For the longest time I tried to become Christian, I forced it! I played the victim when I never felt a need to ask Jesus for forgiveness. I know, what a shocker, right!? Its only a shocker to the people that believe that Christianity is the one and true religion. It disrupts their worldview, their universal sense of balance. Its introducing Chaos into a system of Order. There is no right or wrong here, its about stability and instability, truth vs falsehood, even what is needed for psychological health vs what one thinks they need for psychological or spiritual health when its actually detrimental to their health. Christianity can be very toxic, but it can also be very beautiful! God I fell in love Catholic Mysticism and Magick!

I lacked true Faith though and no matter how hard I tried, it wasn't coming. It did, however, come when my mother was dying. There was no more feelings of negativity, doubt, hatred etc., but understanding in the sense of finding a link. A link that lead to God! This last for about three to four years until here recently when I prayed to Lucifer. Not the first time, but this time I told Him that I would devote myself to Him if He did something for me! I forgot about it until after it happened, but I started praying to Lucifer and Satan. One day I asked Lucifer or Maybe Satan, probably Satan, what do I need to do to be happy in life and the most amazing thing happened! The Sun shone its light upon me at that very moment! How often do signs like that happen that immediately!? I took it as meaning to be Happy, but also the Light of Lucifer perhaps... I didn't think so though, but I ended up becoming a Thelemite.

Late last year was a time of meaning discovering myself... actually all of last year was. I still do have guilt and a part of me feels it and that I will burn in Hell for it, but for the most part its not as bad. What I feel like is a New Chapter of my Life started with the Left Hand Path. I'm not new to the Left Hand Path, but I do have a fresher understanding of it. I became enthralled with Thomas LeRoy's video and even joined the Sect of the Horned God which ultimately speaks volumes as early on in my Pagan journey, I became fascinated with the Horned God specifically Cernunnos. I think a lot of this was my roots as a Heathen, as a Satanist emerging.

I believe that we are all born onto the Left Hand Path, but for some reason, some venture over onto the Right Hand Path. I think it might all be a part of evolution. I need to venture upon the Sinistral Walkway because there was a part of me that I learned to bury away and not always manifest in the healthiest of ways. This side of me is as much a part of me as anything else and I need to learn to embrace that, that I am who I am no matter what! I might not be the most hardcore individual upon the Left Hand Path, but I sense a need to walk it... actually I feel a need to return to it, like it's a part of me and not just a path I'm choosing to walk. In fact, I would completely ignore it if it was for the fact that I feel intertwined with the serpentine furrows of Sinistram Viam.

I came across Thomas LeRoy and Sinisterism a few years ago, but it didn't strike a chord with me almost like I wasn't supposed to hear what I was supposed to hear at that time. Late last year that changed as Sinisterism hit me like never before. Almost like I was understanding it in a whole new light. From my early pre-teen years I developed an interest in religion and sought out a religion to belong to, but nothing really fit. I did have a strong attraction to Taoism/Daoism though... why is all about the D now. It used to be spelled Tao as in Taoism or Tao Te Ching. Later on it became Daoism and Dao De Khing. Its like when everyone started insisting that chi is pronounced ki.

First off, are we such a dick oriented society that we have to change a limp sounding T to a hard sounding D? Maybe its sexist because T is for Tits and D is for Dicks. Maybe its racist, Taoism sounds like Towel-ism which just has Al-Qaeda written all over it! Take something that sounds like its from the Middle East and make it sound more American... you know, because the epicenter of American culture is the Dick! Tits and Pussy, but Dicks are funnier, right?

Secondly, we don't call the Chinese, Kinese anymore, right? We don't call China, Kina? and the same can be applied to your fine china. My own opinion I guess, but the ch is soft, not hard as in loch. Chi, pronounced as chee, is Chinese and ki is Japanese. Everyone goes on about cultural appropriation, but what about cultural misappropriation. I mean, if your going to do it, do it right!

Getting back on topic. Sinisterism is, from my understanding, a LHP system in which the individual builds their own foundation of practice and belief from the bits of other systems that work for them. This struck a chord with me now since re-discovering him. Its been something I've been doing for most of my life minus the LHP orientation.

[underthewillowbridge]

EVIL d&d

where the stats are WEAKNESSES, SINISTERITY, DESTITUTION, IDIOCY, FOOLISHNESS, and AWKWARDNESS!!!!

[wrestlezon]

moxley keeps saying things in these promos like "orange cassidy is an evil little serpent snake mastermind" and "hes got sinisterisms lying beneath" which could be cool if it was true but it is not. moxley is disappointing me by saying things that arent whats happening. which is too bad

[rineedagger]

Evil

| Psychological thriller-horror themed, if you're easily disturbed by reading things from a twisted or abnormal pov, don't read | death tw |

Extra important info: This is about two male characters (Damian and Samuel), one in life and the other in death.

"Numerous are the cultures that demonize certain human actions and desires. They go by different names, wear different faces, and take on multitude forms under various ideologies, beliefs, and sciences… Yet, whether demon, yokai or pazuzu, their essence is unequivocally the same.

Sinisterism has been catapulted under a myriad of aliases and identities in a futile attempt to revoke its perversion through diverse cures and rituals. But Evil has no cure, no name, no origin; its existence is intrinsic to us… because when you look Evil in the eyes, Evil looks back at you."

Samuel fell. Fell with the weight of it all. Fell with the pain of the woman who will never embrace her husband again. Fell with the last "I love you" that couldn't arrive and won't anymore. Fell with the unworn  wedding ring still in its box.

Grief spilled out like fresh blood from Damian's body that had been full of life just moments ago. The chest heaved fiercely, coursing through every artery. A shrill beep pierced both ears like a lightning thread while the skin on the upper neck stood on end. A sensation akin to drowsiness floated inside the skull, unable to discern whether everything that was happening was real or a deception because, if there was anything worse than death, it was being proven useless, incompetent.

"And of all, you are my finest work" confessed between breaths, with a metallic, crimson-tinted taste emerging from between his lips, accompanied by a subtle whistling that turned into a gurgle. His eyebrows relaxed as a tear slid down his cheek and his hands desperately tried to reach that face he knew was too far away. 

"So… perfect," Damian managed to finally, and unintelligibly, spit out before his gaze blurred to where it last landed. It seemed as if, even in death, his actions flowed from those lifeless pupils onto the ground, covering it all in a black river, contaminating, infecting… corrupting.

His blood, as thick as concrete, spread across the endless floors. That pool of oil caressed the skin of Samuel's shoes and embraced them as it continued its journey through every corner of the parquet.

For a moment, he swore he felt pressure, as if he was being held.

Just as that light-reflecting liquid collided with the wall, it continued its branching path, as if that black sea were forming coal corals across the four whitish skies, like the trace of thousands of fingers running arbitrarily down one's back.

It was then that Samuel finally understood that someone like Damian couldn't die: Before, he hid behind those cloudy, empty eyes. Now, in every inch of the room.

Someone like him doesn't bleed.

Someone like him doesn't cry.

Someone like him doesn't die.

Like a sudden change of the weather, every muscle on his body relaxed, ceasing of resisting. A cascade as dense and opaque as oil surged violently from inside the walls, sweeping away and engulfing everything in its path. That mind, immersed in boundless madness, had just entered a spiral of chaos and destruction, distancing himself further from sanity like a sailboat adrift without a rudder or hatch. The most perverse of the cruelties will no longer be his only and best companion, but his language. He knew, that from that point on, many would hesitate about his own humanity, as they would only see what they can reach; they would consider him a dangerous and sadistic lunatic, a sudden sociopathy merged with a twisted and tormented childhood linked with an absented mother figure. Only a few would be able to see beyond their own fear and repulsion towards their own doubts, their own darkness...even their own sanity, dressed in something called "moral limits". They would feel how he and the darkness became one, how all of it went beyond the act and the blood. And it had been a long time since his body only felt warmth when the world was on fire.

Someone like him doesn't die.

[alice--dyer]

hey sammy babes i know you just love guiltripping but you aint stopping me from bodyslamming it

“Alone”

Do you mean with Sam 👀👀👀

NO. I mean ALONE

[positivelybeastly]

Evil beast got sinisterized. Easy peasy, clean explanation. I feel like he absolutely should be sinisterized by his auto-resurrection stunt (no hope to stop it! Didn’t even know it was a problem!)

Just say he got sinisterized early on off panel working with the corrupted dna (or through experiments with resurrection)

"Ahhhh, still banging on the old 'it's not poor Henry's fault!' drum, are we? Let's face it, dearest grey face, he was skidding wildly off the rails long before this delightful process of resurrection was put in to place - the only shame is that he's decided to be so frightfully boring in his shuffling off of his moral coil."

"Honestly, he could stand to be so much more joyful about his work. He's slowed his roll recently, of course, but I'm hoping he goes after another country soon."

I feel like I might have actually just responded to your thread on Reddit? This is how I would implement a similar solution to this problem:

"Beast died on a mission integral to Krakoa's founding in the gap between Rosenberg's X-Men and HoX, becoming the trial run for resurrection.

All of his back ups were corrupted by Dark Beast still being alive when everyone else thought he was dead, so he comes back weird, and no-one quite knows how to handle it because this is the first time they've really done this. He subconsciously identified the one back up that wasn't corrupted (the Avengers back-up) and lined things up so X-Force would kill him, only having partial control of his actions."

This works a bit better than the Sinisterisation just because Sinisterisation appears to really fuck with your personality and make you act more like Sinister, which . . . . I mean, Beast has certainly stolen parts of his M.O., but he's not as dramatic or as fun as Sinister.

This also makes Hank more heroic and tragic by virtue of having died for Krakoa before anyone even knew about it, as well as explaining why the memories didn't get spotted as immediately strange when his mind was read by Jean in X-Force. They would, after all, still read as the memories of Henry McCoy, rather than Henry McCoy + a desire to wear capes and extract Summers family genetic material.

I feel like it's also important to draw a distinction between what Beast has been doing vs. resurrection - one requires the Five and is more 'natural,' whereas Beast's method is just wholesale scientific cloning with memory engrams.

They appear to share similarities, which is why Sage is able to just jam the Cerebro back up that's presumably compatible with Krakoan resurrections into a Beast clone not created by the Five, but I don't think they're 1:1 the same. I don't quite remember how Sinister polluted the Five's resurrection protocols, but I don't think it makes a ton of sense for it to have affected a seemingly completely independent cloning operation way over in the Pointe/wherever Beast was hiding all this shit.

[racefortheironthrone]

Now that Magneto and Apocalypse are off the Quiet Council, who are the remaining members who believe in "mutant supremacy"? As far I know the Council is now Xavier, former X-Men who mostly agree with Xavier's liberalism, apolitical psychopaths, and former villians with ambiguous motivations. Who's left that actually believes that Homo superior should rule?

At the moment, that depends whether we're talking about the current timeline Quiet Council that's appearing in X-Men and X-Force and the like, or the Sinisterized Quiet Council that's appearing in the Sins of SInister event. Because the latter is kind of entirely made up of mutant supremacists.

If we're talking about the former, the current Quiet Council is made up of Xavier, Destiny, and Hope in Autumn; Exodus, Sinister, and Mystique in Winter; Emma Frost, Sebastian Shaw, and Kate Pryde in Spring; and Colossus, Storm, and Nightcrawler in Summer.

So Xavier is fully committed to the Krakoan project which isn't the same thing as his former assimilationist agenda, then I would argue that Destiny has weak supremacist tendencies from her Brotherhood days, and Hope is more of a Krakoanite.

Exodus is probably the biggest mutant supremacist left on the Quiet Council, and even then it's his very specific religiously-infused version, Sinister views mutancy as something he personally controls and can objectify at will so that's not supremacist, while Mystique probably also has weak supremacist tendencies from her Brotherhood Days.

Emma Frost has a very complicated ideology, Shaw is a capitalist above all else, and Kate is pretty strongly Krakoanite with some lingering Xavier liberalism.

Colossus' ideology is a bit unclear because he's under mental domination from Russian ultra-nationalists; Storm has been a Krakoanite but is starting to be more of an Arakki; and Nightcrawler has his own religiously-inflused version of being a Krakoanite.

Then again, Apocalypse is coming back soon, so we might be in for a shake-up.

[emmafrostcovercollection]

Immoral X-Men #1 (2023) - Brooks variant

[luciuspax]

Die unheimliche Pflanze / The sinister plant / La plante sinistre / De sinistere plant

Lucius Pax : 2023 38 : acrylic on paper : 105 x 75 cm

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

It's funny, I enjoy that scene of Emma beating down Sinister in Immoral X-Men so much more than her and Kate beating down Shaw in Marauders. Probably because:

It's just one scene, not an entire issue dedicated to beating up a bad guy to the point that it becomes cartoonish.

Sinister is actually allowed to be a legitimately competent and threatening villain, and despite being a humorous character he isn't just a strawman buffoon to be kicked around.

Also, I just really love to hate Sinister, and he's been getting away with stuff in the Krakoa era to a ridiculous degree, so seeing Emma (even Sinisterized Emma) grind her heel into him is quite satisfying.

[zwoelffarben]

I agree with @roach-works analysis of the suffixes, but not the analysis of the root which I think doesn't analysize the roots meaning far enough back.

The Cand in Candor and Candid comes from the latin candere or the proto-indoeuropean kand which the same root for words like candle and incandescent, meaning 'to shine'.

And while the connotation of honesty and openness have so strongly taken to the word that they've become the primary use over its semantic denotation, the idea of shining light is still there. To have candor is to project an open an honest air, as if bathed in light, and to be candid is to put every thing in the center of a well-lit room for all to see.

And that's to do with how the english literary canon has built the ideas of light and darkness: of course the light is honest and the shadows sinisteral; after all, it's easier to see in the light than the shadow. Oh, how writers forget how blinding is the sun.

Anyway, poetics thoroughly waxed, the point is that the root cand- means brightness or shining, rather than honestly, so the suffixes should act upon the root word's semantic meaning rather than them words' connotations

To whit I propose.

Candify - To cast in illumination. To turn on the light.

Candific - Inspiring the feeling of light or honesty. Shining so completely as to blind out all other sensations. Like a facefull of flashbang.

Candible - Being capable of providing illumination or being illuminated. Examples by exception: A brunt-out lightbulb and a vantablack sculpture are both, in different senses, incandible.

A classic table of accidental lexical gaps in English, from Language Log.

[embervoices]

Things my brain is blurting out today: "The only fairness that's built in to the Universe is the first law of thermodynamics." "We should call skillful left-handedness 'sinisterity'."

[librewolf]

[Graphic: Netanyahu's War, Emad Hajjaj, Alaraby Alijadeed Newspaper, London] By Mahboob Khawaja, PhD How to Distinguish between Moral Beings and Beasts of War? Human beings as a species were created by God on the best “possible structure of creation”, as the most intelligent moral beings on this Earth given a choice of being righteous versus evil-mongering and therefore, recognized by our character and actions. Do the Israeli and American war planners know the consequences of their evil-mongering? Are they waging the war of insanity against the innocent people of Gaza and the West Bank (Palestinian) attempting to avoid their end of history and inundation? If Israel and the US leaders ever claimed any moral and intellectual values, surely they were misinformed and delusional? “Hell on Earth” – warns the conscientious global community from all spectrums of reason with more than 41,000 civilians massacred, more than 91, 355 injured, more than 16,000 children and women still buried under rubble and unaccounted for, and the rest of humanity under continuous bombardment by the Israeli war machine supported and aided by the US-supplied weapons of mass destruction. Even the hospitals, places of worship, schools, graveyards, and safe zones are not spared by the Israeli war agenda. Israeli leaders reportedly have dropped more than four equal to Hiroshima nuclear bombs on Gaza. International observers spell out the tragic events: words cannot describe the humanitarian calamities and sufferings of the besieged people of Gaza and the West Bank. Are the global institutions of peace, security, and conflict management fast becoming obsolete in a real crisis? And global humanity is captive of the US-Israel’s intransigence and plans never experienced in recent times. History is repeating the cruel insanity - the cursed evil of egoistic power - the unstoppable insanity of the war continues unabated. The professed animosity is against Islam and Israel spearheads the killings of Muslims throughout Palestine to end the freedom movement for an independent State of Palestine. Evil is inseparable from the political agenda. When sinisterism and unacknowledged motives conduct the affairs of life, the people, societies, and policymakers become abnormal, disfigured, and lose their sense of rational direction. President Biden and Secretary Blinken continued to deceive the humanity of a ceasefire deal since May, 24 except it was a delaying tactic to complete the crimes against humanity and open Gaza to new Israeli settlers. It was PM Netanyahu and Israel who were not sure of a ceasefire and peace in the region. Thousands of concerned Israeli citizens march daily and hold continuous night vigils in Tel Aviv to demand peace, the resignation of Netanyahu, and an immediate ceasefire for the safe return of 100 or so hostages. Netanyahu’s political goal was to flatten Gaza and he has done it without any challenge. The cycle of dreadful humanitarian crises unfolding in Gaza and across Palestine is baffling as if global humanity and institutions do not exist for anyone other than Americans and Israel-allied Europeans. The war scenario emboldens Netanyahu‘s political absolutism – an egoistic leader with a controversial profile will do his utmost to pursue his unbridled ambition whether by manipulation, violence, or new conflicts. The current paradigm links directly to PM Netanyahu’s affiliation with extreme Jewish Ultra Nationalists to deny the Palestinian people their right to exist as an independent State and to dismantle the Al-Aqsa Mosque. Please see: “Al-Aqsa Mosque Waiting for the Arab Leaders”. The Israel-American Collaborative War against Earth, Muslims, and Humanity The UK Government is one of the staunch supporters of the Israeli war against Gaza. British Prime Minister Starmer claims Islam and Mohammad are at the epicenter of challenges and animosity towards democracy and liberal values.“UK politicians are whipping up an anti-Muslim panic. Where’s the evidence?” is the headline appearing in the Middle East Eye magazine (UK), and The Sun:

Our real problem is with Islam itself and will remain so because we have no choice but to confront the Islamic flow and Islamic thought in all ways…...*Our differences are not really with the Islamic peoples or the ruling regimes, because the regimes revolve around us and derive their survival from us, and implement our policies that serve Western national security first, regardless of their national security….*Our real problem lies with Islam and Muhammad, the Prophet of Islam because it is a civilized religion that has detailed answers to all existential and civilizational questions, and it is a stubborn competitor to Western civilization, which has begun to lose its brilliance, while Islam and Muhammad are becoming increasingly brilliant even within our European societies, which liberal values have allowed freedom of thought and weakened the authority of the Church, and this free and abstract thinking has led many elites and youth to embrace Islam, because they found in it all the answers to their psychological, spiritual, existential and social needs that our contradictory civilization has drowned them in. Those bombing and destroying the Earth and its life cycle are not normal human beings. Were the ancient people of the Stone Age more intelligent and responsible for not destroying the earth and environment in wars keeping mankind in safety and unity? The Earth is a Divine living entity and a trust to mankind. American-supplied weaponry massacred more than 41,000 innocent people of Gaza, 16,000 children and women, and several thousand buried under the rubble; and Israel bombed and destroyed the habitats and its citizens for no other reason except intransigence and hatred against Arabs and Muslims. If the original population of Gaza and West Bank-Palestine happened to be Jews or Christians, the bombing and destruction were unthinkable. “ It is only wrong doers stand as Protectors- one to another; But God is the Protector of Righteous” clarifies the Divine message. (Quran: 45;19). Another clarification spells out the truth: “We have not created the Heavens and the earth and whatever is between them in sport: We have not created them but for a serious end. But the greater part of them understand it not.” (Quran: Chapter 44: 38) The Earth belongs to all humanity and is a living entity. It rotates itself at a speed of 1000 miles per hour at the equator and orbits the Sun at an average speed of 67062 MPH. The Divine warning (Chapter 7: 56: The Qur’an), tells: Do no mischief on the Earth after it hath been set in order, but call on God with fear and longing in hearts; For the Mercy of God is always near to those who do good. Earth is a trust to humanity and trust includes accountability. The Earth sustains all forms of living things(known and unknown), the essential foundation of our very existence. Pathologically wicked leaders and nations claiming to be most powerful start acting like God to challenge the sanctity and limits of the Laws of God; historically, they become an object of unthinkable natural calamities- earthquakes, wildfires, floods, deaths, and destruction.“Say! Travel through the earth; And see what was the end of those who rejected Truth.” spell out the annals of human history. Those who are bombing and causing catastrophic events to destroy the planet Earth and mankind and all of its treasures and enrichments are not normal human beings. And the killing of innocent people is prohibited in the Ten Commandments (Torah): 'Thou shalt not kill' (Exod. 20:13; also Deut. 5:17). Jewish law views the shedding of innocent blood very seriously, and lists murder as one of three sins (along with idolatry and sexual immorality), that fall under the category of yehareg ve'al ya'avor - meaning "One should let himself be killed rather than violate it. Arab-Muslim Leaders Waiting for the End-Game Sigmund Freud (Civilization and its Discontent, 1930) noted that “the inclination to aggression is an original self-subsisting instinctual disposition in man, and that it constitutes the greatest impediment to civilization.

” The Arab Middle East is no exception. The game is the same “do nothing” and talk loudly. In a global age of knowledge and information, Arab -Muslim leaders cannot pretend to be ignorant and unaware of the catastrophic humanitarian crisis unfolding daily on the television screen. Most are corrupt egoistic puppets of the West enjoying life within the palaces guarded by foreign mercenaries. The alleged war crimes and genocide in Gaza warranted swift action to safeguard human lives entrapped in the war zones - why did the UNO not organize a force to protect the civilians in war zones across Gaza and the West Bank? Caitlin Johnstone (“Opposing The Gaza Genocide While Supporting Biden Is A Dishonest” 04/29/24), offers rational insight into many concerns: You really couldn’t put together a more incoherent position if you tried. You can’t acknowledge that Israel is committing genocide without also acknowledging that the Biden administration has been actively participating in that genocide. If you acknowledge that Biden is guilty of genocide, then you are acknowledging that he is guilty of the most horrific crime a state leader can possibly commit short of initiating a nuclear exchange…..Those who are supporting Biden while opposing the destruction of Gaza do not have any kind of integrity. They’re just wearing whatever mask is politically convenient based on the way the winds are blowing on a given moment, while continuing to support the US-centralized empire which cannot be sustained without nonstop tyranny and bloodshed. Animals live and do not reflect on the imperatives of life whereas, we, human beings, cannot act like animals as we are supposed to be intelligent and responsible species on this Earth. At the edge of reason, the notion of evil leads to the realization that evil and the tyranny of war must be stopped by all means, and those responsible for the genocide and crimes against humanity must be held accountable to restore the manifestation of a sustainable human future. Dr. Mahboob A. Khawaja specializes in international affairs-global security, peace and conflict resolution with keen interests in Islamic-Western comparative cultures and civilizations, and is the author of several publications including the latest: One Humanity and the Remaking of Global Peace, Security and Conflict Resolution. Germany, 12/2019.

[yfmeurs]

A p p e l k l i e k

Part 83620125782629

'Meid, wat een leuk huis !'

Mop stapte over de deurdrempel en met haar armen uitgestrekt richting het onafgewerkte plafond, draaide ze een rondje op de stenen vloer. 'En een ruimte...hééérlijk! We hadden véél eerder moeten afspreken.' Ze liep op een drafje door naar de serre, liet zich in de bank ploffen en zei, 'Je hebt toch wel voor wijn gezorgd, hè ?! Want ik moet ècht effe bijkomen van het openbaar vervoer. De volgende keer kom ik met chauffeur..hihihi.. '. Ze lachte schaamteloos breeduit. 'Chardonnay ?!', vroeg Tory gedienstig.

'Perfect.', antwoordde Mop snel. Er was blijkbaar geen tijd te verliezen.

'IJsklontjes ?', vroeg Tory weer, die de rol van butler imiteerde en al naar de koelkast in de keuken was gesneld om de ijsklontjesmaker aan het werk te zetten . 'Oh, zalig... ', zei ze terwijl Tory twee glazen onder de dispenser liet vol storten.

'We hadden inderdaad veel eerder moeten afspreken.', zei Tory enthousiast en geestdriftig begon ze al excuserende een korte opsomming te geven van de chaos en tumult die het verhuizen naar hun nieuwe stulp teweeg had gebracht. Maar, terwijl ze al gesticulerende stond te ratelen en tegelijkertijd ook nog 's de wijn inschonk, ontsnapte er ineens een gemoffeld muziekje uit de schoudertas van Mop.

'Sorry, deze moét ik opnemen', onderbrak Mop en ze graaide ongeduldig in de tas waarna de zangstem van Shakira al snel het zwijgen werd opgelegd.

'Honey ?!', zei ze poeslief tegen de ingebouwde microfoon. 'No, no, no.. I'm not home yet. You knów where I am, silly joker.'

Tijdens de korte stilte die volgde, sloeg ze haar ogen op in het luchtledige, knipperde met haar weelderig donkere wimpers als een vis op het droge, snakkend naar essentiële levensbehoeftes. Kortom, de verlangende blik sprak boekdelen

'I miss you too, darling ..bye, bye !' Daarna kuste ze de telefoon met overdreven smakkende geluidjes en liet vervolgens de Blackberry nonchalant naast zich op de bank vallen terwijl ze zelf, bekant 'n kinderlijk impuls, onderuit gleed in de zitkussens.

'Nieuwe liefde, Mop ?', vroeg Tory nieuwsgierig.

'Ja', zuchtte haar gast smachtend, met inmiddels rode blosjes op de wangen. Het was duidelijk dat deze nieuwe liefde ontegenzeggelijk veel belangrijkere gespreksstof was dan gezeur over tegenvallers en de frustraties van een verhuizing.

'Ken ik 'm ?', vroeg Tory. 'Nee, je kent 'm niet.' 'Is het een collega van je ?' Allesodemieters, het begon op een kruisverhoor te lijken.

'Eigenlijk niet....maar we bewegen spiritueel wel dezelfde kant op', zei ze mysterieus en nam daarbij 'n flinke slok Chardonnay. Haar gezicht vertrok even van de bevroren kou. Nippen was verstandiger geweest.

'Hoe heet ie dan ?' Tory wilde nu alles weten.

'Mag jij raden.' Mop liet haar hoofd weer achterover in de kussens zakken en terwijl ze dromerig in de verte tuurde naar de fuchia roze rodondendrons waarmee het gazon was omzoomd zei ze, zonder Tory ook maar met een oogwenk in haar blikveld te vangen, 'De eerste letter is 'n D.'

Plots veerde ze op en ging parmantig rechtop zitten, nipte nu langdurig zuigend aan de Chardonnay en op een cynisch toontje verklapte ze venijnig een hint.

'Maar om héél eerlijk te zíjn. Je hèbt 'm wel 's ontmoet, Tory.'

'Toe, vertel nou gewoon. Wié is 't !', vroeg Tory ongeduldig en ze trappelde met haar schoenen op de vloer als tromgeroffel bij een staatsbezoek. Ze moesten beiden lachen met gemodelleerde lachsalvo's waar giechelende schoolmeisjes om bekend staan en pardoes vloog de spanning weg. Tijd om de Chardonnay weer bij te vullen, zelfs het sinistere intro van een nog ongewisse valse wanklank viel even weg tegen het tinkelen van ijsrotsjes in de kristallen glazen.

'Het is....' Mop liet eerst nog een pauze vallen om de sensatie weer op te laden waarna ze. preluderende op een toost met de goden, een tot de nok toe vol glas Chardonnay in de hoogte hief en de kneuterige bakvissen gezelligheid verbrak met een totaal absurde clue. 'Het is...jouw man.'

Mop had de picture helemaal in de smiezen. Het èchte begin, de vruchten van ontluikende liefde, de gemaskeerde puurheid en de gewaande onschuld waarin ze zichzelf keizerlijk hadden gedrapeerd moest gemanifesteerd gaan worden met een trouwfotoreportage, ook al was er geen bruiloft en inzegening. Mèt of zonder de staat, dit was haar wereld. De oldtimer waar Tory en D in waren getrouwd zou natuurlijk de kers op de taart zijn geweest. Zij, in plaats van Tory naast D in die oldtimer, alsof Tory nooit had bestaan, anachronistisch weggecijferd. Zonder enige voogeschiedenis zou de reportage een nieuw begin vastleggen, evolutionair ankeren, een tabula rasa. 'La liberté guidant le peuple !' La Marianne had gesproken. Tijd was immers abstract.

Maar tot grote ergernis van Mop werd de italiaanse oldtimer niet opnieuw aangekocht. "Waarom wil je nu die oldtimer terugkopen ?', had Tory nog verbaasd gevraagd aan D. 'Dat ding kost bijna 40K en we hebben nèt een nieuw huis gekocht !' Ze was het niet gewend van D, ineens zulke exorbitante uitgaves, omsingeld door hypotheekverstrekkers hijgend in de nek over aflossingsrentes, aandelendepots, bouwdepots en levensverzekeringen, weliswaar voor een zeer gewenst toekomstplan 'en famille' in een magnifieke toko aan de rand van een gooisch natuurreservaat. Het was geen vakantietje naar de Italiaanse rivièra. En bovendien, stond er al een oldtimer voor de deur. Echt, een schitterende blauwe Volvo, welke voor peperdure centjes en noestige hobbyuurtjes is vertimmerd. Tot in de puntjes gerestaureerd. Behalve dan die verrekte oude autogordels op de achterbank, was het gehobby nooit reden geweest om de lieve vrede in huis uit balans te halen, never. In Mop's wereld gelden andere ongeschreven regels. In Mop's wereld was het tè gek voor woorden dat D de Alfa Oldtimer niet kon terugkopen omdat Tory 't.. er.. niet.. mee.. eens..was, oordeelde ze met misprijzende arrogantie. Of er dan diepe schulden werden gemaakt, interesseerde Mop niet. Voor Mop was de extase van de trouwfoto plus quadrifolio essentieel en nu jammerlijk met een sisser uitgedoofd, door Tory. Wat 'n lastpak. Vooralsnog, moest ze met tegenzin concluderen dat het verzetten van bergen noodzaak werd om haar dromen tot bloei te kunnen brengen want van zulke tegenvallers kon ze alleen maar vindingrijker worden en tot achterbaks verzet worden uitgelokt. Instituut 4MEER stond al in de coulissen klaar om met wat bijlesjes te gaan helpen.

'Tijd voor bijscholing', had Mop d'r vriendinnen opgedragen tijdens een lunch in de stad. Haar besties waren niet bijzonder ingenomen met die opmerking. De leader of the pack, onlangs gelanceerd als boegbeeld voor 'de werkende vrouw' had haar roedel met die imagolobby al veel kopzorgen bezorgd. Het ontwerpen van een boegbeeld is namelijk geen douceurtje dat je even tussendoor doet.

Die lunch vond plaats bij restaurant 'de WASSERIJ'. Met een keertje lunch maakt een zwaluw nog geen zomer maar een culinair oordeel was ook helemaal niet im frage, het ging om de ambiance. Dé nieuwste hotspot aan de gracht lonkte gewoon om ontdekt en er gezien te worden. Ze had een tafeltje moeten reserveren via het web. Héél modern. De 'WASSERIJ' had zelfs een wachtlijst! Druk..druk, druk. Nou, dan heb je een noviteit te pakken, hoor. Uitgelaten waren de drie dames Mop, Mae en Mars eindelijk, na 'n week on hold, uitgelaten binnengewandeld en zagen tot hun verbazing nog best wel veel vrije tafeltjes. Zó vroeg waren zo nou ook weer niet. Een beetje lacherig stonden ze, met hun jas over de arm, te wachten om naar hun plaats te worden gewezen. Ook heel trendy. Zó vreselijk amerikaans ! Een jongeman in bordeaux/wit gestreept overhemd liep naar het clubje. 'U heeft gereserveerd ?' en vouwde daarbij zijn handen in elkaar, dat traditioneel zoiets betekent als, 'Zullen we dan maar ?!' Mars nam het voortouw. 'Jazeker. Code: youandmeisthree.' Een code...ook heel trendy. Privacy en dat soort dingen.

Hij deed een kleine stapje naar achteren, maakte een kleine buiging en gebaarde uitnodigend naar een tafeltje in het midden van de open ruimte die veel weg had van een foyer in het newyorkse Chrysler, maar dan wel zonder garderobe. Ze hingen hun jas over de stoelen die bekleed waren met bordeauxrood pluche. Op tafel lagen drie koptelefoons bovenop aluminium borden. Mae schoof onrustig heen en weer op d'r stoel en keek 'n beetje nerveus om zich heen. Het viel haar nu pas op dat mensen met koptelefoons op hun hoofd aan tafel zaten.

Mop wenkte naar de jongeman in het bordeaux/wit gestreepte overhemd.

'U heeft al een keuze gemaakt ?', vroeg hij vriendelijk met dezelfde 'Zullen we dan maar?!' geste. 'Nee, nog niet maar wat moeten we hiermee ?', en hield de koptelefoon omhoog. Hij keek haar aan alsof ze een open deur had ingetrapt en rijp was voor het gesticht.

'Dit is een cockpit koptelefoon met microfoon,..dame.'

'Dàt begrijp ik. Maar waarvoor ?'

'Pardon, ik was in de veronderstelling dat u bekend was met onze service. U kunt gebruik maken van de koptelefoons. Ze zijn onderling met elkaar verbonden zodat u elkaar kunt horen zonder omgevingsgeluiden, voor uw eigen privacy vanzelfsprekend.' Ze keken elkaar vragend aan. Hebben wij last van omgevingsgeluiden ?

Op de menukaart stonden drie sterren met een E erin afgrdrukt. 'Toch niet de E van Ezel, hè ?' zei Mop lacherig en ze wees de ober op de sterren. 'Nee, de E staat voor ethisch, mevrouw. Wij tolereren geen kleurdiscriminatie. Het kleurgebruik in de gerechten is beoordeeld door onze persoonlijke ethische commissie.

Wij zetten niet de punten op de i maar de sterren op de i, dames.' Toen liep de ober weg van de tafelscène en liet de meiden met een lading aan vraagteken op hun smoelen weer entre nous. Alleen z'n stuurs loopje deed enigzins vermoeden dat ie beledigd was door het spottend meidengegniffel.

Op de menukaart stond een universum aan lekkernijen te wachten om kwijlend te kunnen worden aangevallen en binnen slechts twintig minuten was de tafel belegerd met allerlei deliciousness. Een caffè americano, de latte con choco swirl, de cappuccino à la noisette, de miniman clubsandwich, de wanderlust salade, de seafruit soup met lavendel, de avocadotoast met champagne saus, de red velvet cake, de matcha cheese cake, de blue ocean reef smoothie, de green tea nightdream smoothie en vanzelfsprekend drie huismerk spaatjes met munt aroma. Niet gehinderd door enige onvoorstelbare wijsheden waren ze het zonder slag of stoot met elkaar eens dat dit een buitenissig lekker feestmaaltje was.

'Hé kijk nou, is dat niet die piloot die net is verhuisd met zijn vrouw ?', vroeg Mae ineens. Onderzoekend bespiedde ze in de floyer andere zielen die zich aan deze goddelijke sensaties voor de smaakpapillen hadden gewaagd. Zij droegen geen koptelefoon, anderen wel.

'Ja, dacht ik ook even, maar zijn vrouw had toch geen kort blond haar, of wel ?', zei Mars. 'Dat was een pruik, Mars. Chemo...', fluisterde Mae terug.

'Weet je zeker dat het z'n vrouw is. Iedereen kan toch zo'n pruuk opzetten?', riep Mop over de tafel. 'Mop...sttttt.... wat doe je ?! Straks horen ze je nog !', ketste Mae geërgerd op 'n fluistertoontje terug. 'Hoezo ?!', riep Mop weer over de tafel. 'Ze hebben toch dat ding op hun kop !' Mop gebaarde met opgetrokken wenkbrauwen haar beide wijsvingers naar d'r hoofd. De vriendinnen keken elkaar aan, met stomheid geslagen. Verdomd, da's waar ook en konden een uitbarsting van proestend gelach niet onderdrukken, daarna hielden ze collectief hun mond, alleen malend funktioneel om te smullen en hun oren open voor eavesdropping.

'Of ik het eerlijk vind ? Nee, ik heb 't eerlijk nog niet gevonden', zei de piloot en hij nam 'n slok rode wijn om zijn gebral weg te spoelen.

'Ik heb jou toch gevonden, schat', antwoordde ze fluweelzacht. 'Ik zal jouw nieuwe eerste zíjn. Niemand hoeft het te weten.'

De vriendinnen keken elkaar begrijpend aan. Dat is ècht zijn vrouw niet.

Een angstige kinderkreet vulde de ruimte ineens met paniek. Gekleed in 'n rood jasje rende 't kind tussen de tafeltjes door. Hij werd achterna gezeten door een oudere man met witte baard. 'Kom hierrrr !!!!', schreeuwde de baardman. Een vrouw zat baardman weer gillend op de hielen. 'Laat m'n kind met rust !', riep ze woedend. 'Het is mijn jas !', riep het kind terwijl ie tussen de tafeltjes vliegensvlugge schijnbewegingen maakte om de griezel van zich af te schudden. 'Het is een rode jas, dus míjn jas !', brulde baardmans.

De entree deur zwaaide open en kind gevolgd door man met baard en de vrouw renden met een dramatische rotgang naar buiten. 'Het zal je jas maar wezen.', zei Mars verbouwereerd. 'Het zal je kind maar zijn, zul je bedoelen', zei Mop corrigerend. Sceptisch keek ze om zich heen of er nog meer achtervolgingen te verwachten waren. Aan een ander tafeltje had een stel de koptelefoons afgedaan en begon te applaudiseren. Bizar.

Tja, was het episch theater ?! Wel weer 's iets anders dan zingende bediening, dat wel. Scheidslijnen tussen theater en werkelijkheid werden getart. Dit fenomeen, het postmodernisme, had grip gekregen op culturele waarden en normen zoals wel vaker gebeurt bij omwentelingen van regimes. Willekeurige waarheid had waarheidsmakers gekregen. Een ontwikkeling die in de entertainmentindustrie de langverwachte helpende hand zou gaan bieden voor astronomische rijkdom. En mocht je 'achterblijven', een verstekeling dobberend op een wrak met oude herinneringen dan kon altijd nog geestverruimende antidote je over de streep trekken, bij wijze van inwijdingsritueel.

'Moet je dàt stel zien !' Mars stootte haar vriendin zachtjes aan. 'Kijk dan....', fluisterde Mae dwingend naar Mop en knikte naar links richting een ander stel personages aan 'n tafeltje. De man had een stapeltje stickers op tafel gelegd. Hij en de vrouw tegenover hem droegen een zwart colbertje, een slap aftreksel van 'n originele knillis. De vrouw was volgeplakt met embleems. 'Jij gaat vreemd.', zei de vrouw beschuldigend, waarop de man stuiterend van woede uit de massa's plakplaatjes een passende sticker griste en deze op haar colbert sloeg. 'Dus jij bent vreemd', zei hij resoluut. 'IK BEN VREEMD' stond er nu met kapitale letters op d'r pekzwarte pak. 'Jij doet alsof ik niet besta.', begon de vrouw sputterend waarop de man na wild gewroet tussen de plakplaatjes weer een sticker opviste. 'IK BESTA NIET' duwde ie ruw tegen haar borst.  Hij scheen er lol in te krijgen, terwijl de vrouw ongeduldig op hete kolen haar beurt zat af te wachten.

Toen werden de meiden overrompeld door de ober, die plotseling met drie gangen balancerend op zijn onderarmen was aan komen zwaaien.

'Voor wie is het voorgerecht, hoofdgerecht en nagerecht ?', vroeg de ober onberispelijk. Mop ving het stemgeluid van de ober als eerste op en een spiegelreflex plooide haar lippen tot een vriendelijke glimlach, 'Zet maar midden op tafel, graag. Dan kunnen we altijd nog de gerechten met elkaar ruilen'.

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