Hashtag scared and lonely too (english version)



That no one else would ever take her place, the widower had sworn. He had done so in front of the church and for all to hear. At least those who could understand the stammering of the heartbroken man. “Our house will forever be too big from now on,” he had said, and whilst doing so he had moved almost everybody to tears.

She, on the other hand, pretty much single by nature, had lost count of all of the lonely years she had survived. But she never lost hope. Somewhere out there in the world there was someone for her to love. Someone to love her back. Sometimes it seemed as if she was about to explode with love: so much she had kept in, so much she had to give.

Maybe, just maybe, she desired sometimes on the streetcar: maybe he is the one for methat charming man over there. Every day he gave up his seat, with a friendly and inviting gesture, to an old lady going God-knows-where, and clung himself to a bar strap instead. Balancing, and at the mercy of the operator.

Every now and then he slid his eyes over the angelic being.

Often, she had to blow her hair out of her eyes whilst reading. Sometimes that didn’t help at all. Then she had to curl it around two fingers and tuck the tress behind one ear. Good to go for a few pages more.

Sometimes she looked up. Ever so briefly, before losing herself in one of her books again.

Sporadically eyes met. He always looked away. He always tried not to look. He didn’t want to stare. And had he not solemnly pledged to stay alone the rest of is life? And even though she sat there, chillingly beautiful, beauty is never indulgence for grief, he figured.

She loved how the meeting of gazes rendered him red around the cheeks, and how he always looked away seconds late. In a world in which one always had to be wary, she saw right through him, and had found nothing but uncertainty and a kind heart. Some devastation too.

For a while now she had been going about her business with an oversized handbag, way too big for just one book and a day at the office. She had a plan. And that day she deemed the stars finally favourable.

So far she had succeeded in sitting next to her bag all by herself. And when a teenager had laid eyes on the not so vacant seat, she felt confident enough to scare him away: “Sorry, lad, not yours for the taking.”

And the teenager, deprived of some extra sleep and his sense of honour had asked: ‘Whose  is it then, and who put you in charge of the streetcar?”

And she pointed at the man who just had offered his seat to an old lady going God-knows-where. His.

The man looked up, and saw how she gestured that there was a vacant seat next to her. Oh, there you have it again that feeling, he thought, heart racing down his throat and a strange sensation in the lower abdomen. Before he could look away she beckoned him again.

Ho, no. Oh, yes. Oh, no. Whatever.

He put his newspaper in the armpit, made himself as thin as possible and headed towards the angel.

“Sorry, coming through” “Excuse me!” “May I?”

I‘ll just tell her how beautiful she is, he told himself, unaware of a certain someone contemplating revenge.

Hate driven the teenager lifted his foot just, just when the streetcar started taking up speed. The man stumbled, slipped and fell. Face forward. On her lap.“Oh, crap,” she heard him stammer.

His hands felt each of her breasts, when he tried to get up. Clumsily grabbing for something to hold on to.

“Oh, no,” he shook his head, when he became most aware of the delicate matter he got himself involved in.

“No, no, no, not me,” he muttered.

How was he to know that she didn’t mind at all? She loved the scent he carried with him. It reminded her of the soap she used when she was still a little girl. She felt overwhelmed and week on the inside. Ran her fingers through his hear, she dared not, but she would have loved to.

The streetcar ground to a halt, to let some more people on. The man hastily jumped of, shouting out how sorry he was. Leaving his newspaper on her lap.

#MeToo,” the headline kept screaming. And on the same page a very sick individual had felt the need to divide the world in two. Shit holes and great countries.

Full of newly found self-esteem the teenager tapped her on the shoulder.

That seat no longer taken, I assume! ‘

No it isn’t,” she replied grumpily: ‘ but I’ll scratch out your eyes if you dare take it! ”

To point out that she wasn’t joking, she gave the seat next to her three encouraging pats.

The man was never to be seen again. But she still takes the streetcar to the office. Hoping for a second chance one day. And because no one else does (anymore), she always offers her seat to that old lady going God-knows-where .



Meanwhile in Brooklyn, NY. Unlikely conversations somewhere on Stuyvesant Avenue

IMG_0222 - Copy

‘He’s going to ruin the planet single handedly !’

Early morning. A soft and friendly voice came from behind me. I was still drowsy from jetlag and lack of sleep, minding my own business, smoking a cigarette and contemplating whether Nobert’s Pizza would be a good choice for a meal in the evening.

Norbert’s was one of the few pizza joints I had not tried yet. It had smelled promising the night before on my way back to Stuyvesant Avenue. You see, pizza, in all shapes and sizes, is a weakness of mine. Come the day I have to mount the scaffold for decapitation, my last request will most certainly be a pizza and a glass of red wine. Probably Malbec, Maybe Shiraz.

I looked up. An Afro American kid was waiting for his school bus and pointed to a blue heavy roaring Ford van with no one in it. “The guy does it every morning. Turns on the engine and disappears for an hour, comes back with a coffee and a pretzel and hits the road.”

‘I see! It’s a waste of gasoline!’

‘It’s a waste of our planet!’

‘Indeed it is. How old are you?’


‘You seem pretty smart!’

‘I am, but my friend Akram is way smarter. Probably smarter than you, sir.’

‘Is he?’

‘Yep!’ Could have easily become this year’s reigning spelling bee champion. But he chose not to.’

‘Did he?’

‘Hey, you wanna see my candy bar?’

Like a wizard he conjured 2 large candy bars out of his back pack . Each one larger than an average wand.

‘Great, you’ve got one for me as well?’

‘Nope, I don’t think so. One for me and one for my friend. He, look, there’s the bus. Gotta go!’

Nice kid.

I finished my cigarette, continued minding my own business and further contemplated all possible pizza choices.  Something old, Roberta’s, Di Farra? Or something new, Norbert’s? Tough decision!

Good decision! Norbert’s didn’t disappoint. Great pizza. Nothing less, nothing more.

The next morning the kid stood there again. I hid my cigarette as soon as I noticed the kid on the stairs. Not wanting to give a bad example.

I just had to ask.

‘He, kid, got a candy bar for your friend?’

‘Better than that: mom made lunch for him.’

He showed me 2 lunch boxes.

‘You seem like a good friend.’

‘Yeah, I know. Best friend ever, I think!’

‘Tell me, why didn’t your friend become a spelling bee champion?’

‘Sad story, sir. His dad, Azzam, disappeared.’

‘Come again. His dad did what?’

‘He disappeared,’ the kid said, with a magician-like disappearing gesture.


‘Yep, visited his dying father in Iran a while ago, and never got back.’

‘Ow, I don’t understand, kid.’

‘Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, are ya, sir?’

The kid made me laugh and left me utterly confused.

‘Gotta go, sir. See ya tomorrow? Got a lot to tell.’

‘Ehm, yes, I guess.’

‘Where are you from?’


‘Bye. My name is Joshua.’

As if we never parted the kid continued his conversation the next day.

‘Hi, there.’


‘I’ve been doing some reading on the net. I figure you of all people should understand.’

‘But, I don’t.’

‘Well, you should.’


‘Trump and your Nv-eeei, and Bart De Wiever.’

Nv-a and Bart De Wever. But he pronounced it eeei and ie.

‘Intolerant right wing politicians. Liars, elected by disappointed and exploited people.’

‘Excuse me, little man. I think there is a difference.’

‘You would think so, but actually there is not. Gotta, go.’

‘But I still don’t understand!’

‘Oh, man, what’s wrong with you? Don’t you recognize a racist politician when you see one? Bye!’

The next morning the kid was waiting for me.

‘Given it some thought?’

‘Yep, but I still don’t understand. And before you give me another lecture on politics: I’m talking about the spelling bee.’

‘I’ll tell ya.’

‘Please do.’

The kid gestured to sit next to hem, on the stairs.

‘Akram’s father fled his country years ago. It’s difficult in Iran when you’re a Christian. Came to the States, and worked his but of. Never got his papers right, but as a cheap laborer he was allowed to stay. ‘

‘Still don’t understand!’

‘Be patient, sir. In January Akram’s father received word from his dad. The man was dying. Akram’s father flew to Iran. Meanwhile Trump became acting president. He issued the travel ban,  in an attempt to hurt muslims. You must have heard of the travel ban. Unfortunately just when Akram’s father was on a plane back to the U.S. To cut a long story short. No one has heard from him since. For all we know the man is in jail, dead or in hiding.’

‘Sorry to hear that. I thought that the travel ban issues had been sorted out by now.’

‘You would think so. But naah. People are afraid to talk about it. Nobody complains. Angst all around.’

‘Angst is a dutch word,’ I said.

‘I know that’s why I used it. So it would sink in. Our country is in ruins. And Trump is headed for war and civil war!’

‘Man, kid, you’re smart and a pessimist! Depressing combination!’

‘Realist is the word!’

‘I still don’t understand the spelling bee thing.’

‘Well, not that difficult, is it? Do i have to spell everything out for you?’

I smiled.

‘Akram is smart. Man, smart in way that is difficult to comprehend. I.Q at least 170 plus. But winning the spelling bee would draw much unwanted attention to him. So his mother forbade him to stand out. Today, in this country, with this president, it is better not to stand out. It’s complicated. Just like in the 30’s when jewish people figured they could avoid disaster by not standing out…’

‘He, kid, Joshua, don’t you have a school bus to catch?’

The kid smiled and pointed out that is was Saturday.

‘No school today. Akram is coming over to play. You wanna meet him?’

‘I don’t know. Am I going to heartbroken?’

‘Probably, it’s a sad chapter in our nation’s history. But you can buy us pizza later on. And thus Akram survives another day, whilst America becomes great again.’

‘You’ve got yourself a deal young man. I happen to like pizza!’

18/02/2017 Earthquake early warning for Würzburg, Bayern, Germany.

We, from Bizar Discobar, feel it is very important to send out this warning, for everybody living in the vicinity of Würzburg, Bayern.

Somewhere around 5 O’Clock, early evening, chances are that the earth will be moving on a scale seldom seen in the region of Bayern. We are talking 6 + on the Richter magnitude scale. It’s gonna be huge!

However, we can not stress this enough: you are in no immediate danger… Trump hasn’t lost his briefcase with the nuclear codes (not yet, anyway)…

The earth tremors will be caused by the best ever belgian metalband Ostrogoth playing a very special “Ecstasy And Danger/Full Moons Eyes Show” at Metal Assault VII-festival.

Other great bands will be there to: Artillery, Helstar, Nasty Savage, and even more….



Solifugia rises from the dead and drily fists the devil. Concert and CD review: Music Center Kinky Star 02.03.2017

solifugiaFirst of all a warning: this review is not for the faint hearted.

Discobar Bizar goes to great lengths for its readers. Very great lengths. So we felt the urge, after an impressive passage by the band, to embark on an uneasy adventure and explore the backstage toilet. Handkerchief, ever since Graspop Metal Meeting 1996 in the inner pocket of our leather jacket, tightly held before mouth and nose to retain a gag reflex.

Curious and inquisitive by nature Discobar Bizar wanted to find out if, how much and which grain of sandpaper the lead vocalist had eaten before the concert. We did not find any sandpaper, just a huge floating cork and Jackson-Pollock-like spattering and structures on the side of the toilet.

This goes to show, also Solifugia goes through great lengths to give the fans what they want: a primal distorted sound directly from the very depths of hell.

And that there was not a single 4-layer piece of toilet paper to be found, it strengthens us in our believe that these guys are made out of the right metal stuff. They gladly wipe their bottoms with society, police and authority at the same time.

This formation isn’t afraid of anything or anyone. Not even the Grimm Reaper himself. They lack any form of pity and human dignity. All they have to offer is an adipose sound, and a smack in your face if you ever should ask for it.

Preferably they  like to push a blunt knife even deeper in the gaping wound: ‘no more warmth to give…time to die’  Your meaningless life according to Solifugia.

Just goes to show: Stephen King, Edgar Allan Poe, Hieronymus Bosch and the guys from Morbid Angel  would do it in their pants with chattering teeth, crying like little boys who are missing their mothers, listening to the doom Solifugia spread around Friday evening in the streets of Ghent.

When all is said and done

You know you’ve lost yourself

Your will to live

A few years of existence,

eternity to spend in oblivion and nothingness

But why

Yeah, but why?

That’s what we asked ourselves when things became really dangerous.

That was when Peter, the lead vocalist, announced that he was going to fist the devil.  Luckily this was an unfortunate misunderstanding. Because one doesn’t fist the devil without far reaching and painful consequences. Many a forearm, mostly from inexperienced would be satanists have been ripped off in doing so ever since the dark ages.

In short: Solifugia is great fun for everyone with a metal heart. And The Ultimate Promise Of Evil is not a lose promise, it redeems the expectations. Live they sound like a tight rope around the neck. The perfect soundtrack for the Trump-era.

We already knew they had talent, but after their unwieldy debut Araneae Attack, and the sputtering Rampage Of Brutal Revenge, they finally are becoming  a band that effortlessly can compete with the more influential death metal and doom from the Scandinavian countries.

Buy this record!

Shocking discovery: on Trump and ancient astronauts.

A team of prominent ancient astronaut theorists have just  announced that they will be revealing some shocking discoveries on Friday, January 20, 2017, during the inauguration of Donald Trump as the 45th President of the United States.

It appears that Trump has been undergoing intensive botulinum toxin treatment to hide the wrinkles on his forehead that seem to be aligned exactly as the Carnac stones (France).

The theorists also claim that they will be able to prove conclusively that Trump’s hair is being kept tightly together by an otherworldly-like substance. Claims have been made that the substance is also effecting his thinking powers.

Furthermore it is no coincidence that a suspected alien will become the 45th president. Nr 45 being very important to aliens since it is a triangular number, an arc-cotangent irreducible number and -of course- the sixth positive integer .

Keep watching the skies is the advice of the ancient astronaut theorists.

Dear reader,

Is highly doubtful that those ancient astronaut theorists are really on the something. By now everybody knows that all things and beings in this world are the result of an intelligent interventionist God, some 6000-10,000 years ago, certainly not an alien. It is also a well established fact that man has walked the earth together with dinosaurs there can be no doubt about that.

But tags like ancient astronaut, conspiracy theories, aliens, Trump, fake news, creationism  and Justin Bieber seem to attract a lot of internet traffic.

So know that we have got your attention:

Don’t miss out on Hurricane Willem, the true story. A great online novel, a heartfelt story brought to you by Discobar Bizar in weekly episodes. And if you want to be ready for episode 3 tomorrow you need to read 1 and 2 first.

Hurricane Willem (1) english version

Hurricane Willem (2) english version