First, there was the whole "why do you want to go?" question.

I couldn't resist saying, Business and Pleasure. The consular cretin was not amused.

Then came the 20 questions all evidently motivated by the concept that I couldn't possibly be going to Djzair for anything other than nefarious purposes. It was like a rewind to my youth dealing with the East Germans, refreshingly and entertainingly movie liek paranoid. I suppose in his mind commercial reasons might be nefarious.

Second, the inspection of my residency certification revealed that the local cretins had forgotten to stamp the date. This engendered much puzzlement -why how could an underpaid Min of Interior cretin forget to wield his date stamp? And discussion. And debate. I am sure I was supposed to offer an encouragement, but I'm in a pissy mood of late, so I did not.

Third, post this collosal waste of time, I get a call from the same cretins service requesting I verify, by phone, what I have already told them orally, face-to-face. This was literally the most bizarre thing I have ever experienced in my years of dealing with Arab consular cretins. The ridiculous interviewing, fine. But calling me up afterwards on my cellphone? I mean, what's even the point?

I mean to find some time - probably while trapped in a crappy Djzair hotel overpaying for pseudo-5 star service - to rant on about some idiocy regarding the altermondiste cretins and their whinging on about neoliberalism, as they term proper economics.