Maritime butterfly kiss

Did I think of the Russians when those four pretentious F-35s flew over our house with a deafening noise last Wednesday at about six o'clock?

No, it's more like some kind of hazing ritual from a drunken fraternity. The slightly older brats trying to scare the freshmen. For the average reader who doesn't know what a freshman is: in the fraternity, they're called the freshmen.

But how do those students get their hands on such a flying machine? Connections. A dad in the air force, or a father who has a hangar with a dozen of them in his backyard in Vught or Wassenaar. As a hobby. Sort of like Fritske van Eerd. But even crazier.

It turned out to be an official salute from Air Combat Command to Sail. With this ridiculous public salute, the Royal Netherlands Air Force wanted to demonstrate the connection between defense and society. It became more audible than visible. Before we knew it, those bastards were gone again.

But I honestly wonder: who in our army comes up with these kinds of childish actions? This doesn't seem like an order from Minister Ruben Brekelmans, who has other things on his mind right now. For example, how he has to constantly lie about the entire VVD party still fully supporting Dilan Yesilgöz, despite blunder after blunder after blunder. No, this minister seems a bit too sensible to me for this kind of childish nonsense.

So who gave this order? Perhaps a deranged midlife general trying to impress his fresh-faced slob, who was bobbing on the IJ River with hundreds of other dinghies full of Chardonnay-guzzling retirees. Or a tragic bigwig trying to give our beloved king a snarky wink. Willy was also floating around there. Unfortunately, not in his ordinary speedboat, but with some friends on his mother's yacht. That made headlines because a blind scoundrel bumped into him. Bumping is a bit of an exaggeration in this case. It was a maritime butterfly kiss. Nothing more. But it was on all 49 of our country's talk shows that evening.

Who was guilty? I don't think anyone. The dance floor was so crowded it was impossible not to touch. It's also possible our king wasn't paying attention for a moment because he was looking at his phone. He obviously wanted to know how his Norwegian colleagues were doing. Because they have a serious problem after the misbehavior of that bastard Marius. Twenty-three crimes and misdemeanors, including three rapes and four cases of sexual abuse. Between fifteen and twenty victims are said to have been involved. I also understand that the pervert filmed all the filth. Just like that French psychopath who let half the village enjoy his comatose wife. Marius denies everything and is still walking around free. That last part is especially interesting.

But back to that terrifying Wednesday night explosion that gave us that ultimate Kyiv feeling with a touch of Gaza. What do they mean by "connection" in the military, anyway? That's definitely the most empty, nonsense word of our time. Every unqualified idiot uses it ten times a session. As a joke, I Googled the term "connection coach" and found it immediately. A woman with a lot of woolly talk calls herself that. She guides people who aren't sure if they're still aligned with the organization's course. I'd advise her to call the military immediately, because there are a number of losers there who have completely lost their way. Not just within this organization, but throughout society as a whole.

If there's one thing you shouldn't be doing right now, it's blasting four bombers over a play pond full of bored people. If I were their connection therapist, I'd start every session with them watching an applauding Trump welcome his friend Putin on a red carpet. And advise them to save those F-35s for when they're truly needed. When is that? Perhaps very soon.