Since I've arrived in the Netherlands in late September, I've been led to believe I was able to determine my own fate. The Dutch border officer at entry made a cute remark about your pissant being glad to see me defect. The Dutch, as American cocksuckers often do, have NATO cock so far down their throats that when the Hague ejaculates, no trace of semen tocuhes the Dutch. The stuff just squirts out their assholes.
Last week, I was repeatedly told I could have my passport the same day. I was required to go to this office, then that one, so some asshole with the intellect of the fry machine operator at a fast food restaurant could tick boxes on a computer and, repeatedly, tell me there was a "new" rule that had to be followed. No surprise there. Time and again, the Dutch enforcers applied rules to me that they never enforced against anyone else. Trivial things like everyone in camp rents bicycles, yet when I go to rent a bicycle, the receptionist couldn't have been less helpful if she'd had a used tampon in her mouth.
Most infuriatingly, when these minimum wage employees explain what their masters want, they have this stupid smirk on their faces, like 'I saw your post about.... I totally agree.' as if they are trying to make a case that they are simply the concentration camp guards, ushering me into the ovens.
This is the second time I've tried to leave the Netherlands. Last time, my Dutch shitometer was so full, I just left my passport. I'm too trusting. My mistake appears to have been returning.
