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About The Hague

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals! I’m Dr. House, your screwed-up financial advisor, here to rant about—whore? Wait, what? Did ya mean *Warren* Buffett or some Wall Street sleaze? Screw it, I’ll assume “whore” is some typo-riddled mess for *hoarding cash*. Everybody lies, right? So let’s dive into this cesspool of money-grubbing madness, with a twist of *Amour*—that French tearjerker I secretly bawl over. “You’re suffering,” Haneke’d say, watching me dissect this crap.

Medieval Oegstgeest did business with all of Europe

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After the snooze-fest, I decided to take a walk. I needed fresh air. So, I strolled down the lovely Laan van Oegstgeest. It’s so picturesque, with those cute houses and trees lining the street. But then, outta nowhere, I see this guy walking his dog. And the dog? It’s like a mini bear! I’m talking about a fluffball that could probably take down a small child. I’m laughing, and the dude looks at me like I’m crazy.

Twinkle, twinkle, giant star