lone catfish.

I unexpectedly "saw" Radiohead live last night in the Westerpark. Yeah, I saw them from behind the stage, coming out of their dressing room or whatever and going on stage, then I didn't see them again until they came offstage. But we could hear them, and this arrangement meant that I didn't have to give the evil bastards at Mojo any of my money (tickets were 60 euro).

It was unexpected because the plan had been to listen to them from our roof, thereby avoiding the 18,000 people in Westerpark, but yeah then it turns out that we knew a few of these people, they were having a picnic/party, the weather was perfect, etc. Here's a video of what life was like for the ticketless.

Hopefully some actual pictures of the Dog Hill Party will surface after the people who had the cameras put themselves back together, at which point I'll replace the above photo stolen from Flickr. Unfortunately there's no picture of an unusually intoxicated HPoes kicking an empty beer can down the middle of the street.


It probably says something important, sociologically speaking, that this is the first time I've ever heard anyone say this in my entire life. Hooray for us, the childless.

I recommend NOT reading the "Comments" section after the article if you want to retain any moderately non-negative feelings you might have gotten from reading the article. The Fresh Prince was right.


Something I make all the time for myself is gingered catfish. But I never do it the same way twice, and for this reason I almost never serve it to anyone. So I'm going to try and put a recipe for it together now, in hopes that said recipe might become a reliably reproducible part of my repertoire.


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