Voorburgs Dagblad | Cash register for the climate experts and long live Caroline

Lignite, coal, petroleum and natural gas. Add nitrogen for me. I can’t think of anything more petrified. When it will be fifteen degrees above zero at the turn of the year 2022-2023, Thunberg, Rotmans, Loorbach, Jetten, Klaver, that shameless babe from Bromet, and much further back the strange Dibi, in relation to CO2: watch out for avalanche danger.

There are tablets for anxiety disorders.

We have never had so many climate experts in our country. Anyone can be. Wet index finger in the air and it’s you. After that, you just have to remember very difficult words and you will earn your strabismus from phobias. Celebrating companies and student associations generously make the cut for a fun afternoon of world destruction. Climate is business.

Meanwhile, I never heard of a single male Dutchman who, the moment he was forced to have such a recommended windmill forced into the vicinity of his house, happily laughed his balls out of his pants. Maybe it’s different with women.

Every time I see the terrible totem poles growing over the water at Bruinisse, I think of Thunberg, Rotmans, Loorbach, Jetten, Klaver, the terrifying Neel van Bromet, and further back to the strange Dibi, but also and especially of the now deceased Rotterdam environmental councilor Arno Bonte, who was transferred to Helmond last month wearing a thick sweater, a woolen hat and felt slippers and now runs a rancid household with another four years of stonewalling. Climate is even big business.

You and I have a few problems. First, all onshore wind turbines initially rotate against the wind. They are always in the wrong place and only the builders think they are beautiful at an average price of three million each. Moreover, it is mainly foreign handicrafts. We don’t make any money from it. Only the sustainability preachers who recommend them and draw full houses, they cash in handsomely. Commission? Everything is possible in this country.

One day the day will come: then we will break them down again. Also the little stove that depends on a few solar panels in an ordinary street in an ordinary city. Scroll down the story of the misunderstandings, everywhere silence before and noise after. Groningen, Twente, Drenthe.

At Pernis, the totem poles with their sound and shadow even suddenly became 250 meters high, because this was a fraction more practical economically. No dog knew. Rotterdam thought: let it blow and thereby mutilated the resident into an extra. Arno Bonte did so and then disappeared with his tail between his legs. Helmond knows a lot.

There are now almost 3000 wind turbines on the mainland. At sea about 1000 more. They mainly have the wind at their backs because porpoises and seals do not protest. But in the meantime, the piles go 60 meters deep into the beautiful seabed like meat grinders and the view on the edge of the horizon doesn’t get any better.

More than 20,000 wind turbines are needed to supply the entire Netherlands with electricity. I would say: spread them on the farmland, give the farmers money for them and leave those people alone.

Don’t build them too fast, those posts, for Thunberg, Rotmans, Loorbach, Jetten, Klaver, the scary Neel van Bromet, further back Dibi, and of course my favorite Rotterdam Green leftist Arno Bonte, Judas among the climate experts, they must of course the eight of them can make their money from the fear of the burning hell. I don’t do bread robbery.

D66 and VVD do this in relation to farmers. Why? To finally be able to help the young Dutchman find a home in a humanitarian way. Or is it to get a head start on the influx of asylum seekers from safe countries who will eventually be allowed to leave but of course never leave because our system is as leaky as a basket.

I am too old to emigrate.

Poor farmers. Long live Caroline van der Plas.

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