Marieke Rijneveld is now Marijn Rijneveld

I’m happy to address Marieke Rijneveld as a he, but it would at least help if it were Maarten or even Marijn Rijneveld.

I don’t need to see a dick; just like the generation to which she belongs, I am easily satisfied. In the old days, you had to have a change of actual gender, what a misery, especially for women who wanted to become men – as a plastic surgeon, just try to make a working cock, it’s a nightmare. With a cunt, you can make a small hole and make some makeshift labia around it, but how do you make one of those prancing mushrooms?

So no, what a hassle, while you can also just change the form of address. But laziness is one thing, laziness we all wallow in like patronised pigs, but using the ‘he’ form for the name Marieke, no, I demand at least the dastardly name Marijn.

Saint Marijn, if nothing else, because since Pukkelkop & Co (1)have been busy conquering the British market, there had to be a prize, and Marijn has taken a good look at Reve and can write quite well. But when he is portrayed in the media as some sort of drugged-out saint – a kind of walking advertisement for Big Pharma – then you are more or less bound up with a kind of pity factor, which is a shame because, as a writer, you shouldn’t need that, just as a writer doesn’t necessarily need a dick.

Please kill me

Marijn called me once when I posted a cry for help on Facebook. So he does know me, although he’s too famous by now to admit it. It was a very nice conversation, with a tail end, though. Marijn had a fantasy that he would be killed and buried by me and I did not go along with that fantasy, to the disappointment of the other side. I had better things to do than fantasies like that at the time, and besides, I don’t really see how such uplifting fantasies would help a depressed person.

My message was never that Marijn cannot write. He can write quite well, but his poetry is substandard and the role of the saint is ridiculous and seems like a disguised sense of guilt. When you completely screw up the youth with pharmaceutical drugs, such a symbolic heroic role is perhaps the indulgence you need as the pimple-faced junta. Fine by me, but I think the youth can use better examples than Marijn, smiling heavily drugged on the tube.

The dictator and the dollhouse 

No, he’s not my hero and I don’t think he ever will be. But that also goes for Reve, and Hermans, and Gorter, so the whole series of saints is just not my cup of tea. But although my true favor might be unattainable, the change of name to ‘Marijn’ may be my small contribution to undermining this extremely tender boy’s soul

(1)The allusion here is to a certain literary agency that once for almost an hour briefed me about how Menno Wigmans eyebrows made him unfit for Dutch television. To hear this from someone whose appearance is by any means quite far from perfect is – how should I put this? It’s good in a psychoanalyst(2) sort of way. So no, no bullying points here for the hidden master-victims! 

(2)As I work on the Psychosupersum anyway let me put a name to this phenomenon: I call it the ‘Dictator and the Dollhouse’ syndrome. It is an attempt to recreate ones own traumatized youth using the world as a perfect dollhouse, in order to avenge oneself. All these pretty writers and their supposed popularity with boomers are in reality a horrorshow(3) by a traumatized dictator.

(3) A critical audience will demand evidence for such assertions. Allright – here’s the ‘Our Kind of People‘ a briliant series that depicts this horror reality in all its gruesomeness by André Keikes…


Mountains, giants and mushrooms – in this fairytale-like collection, magic whirls and swirls, yet another reality breaks through as well – the whole world turned into The Shining, and the pilgrimage to Szymborska’s grave, a simple stone in Krakow, fails at the last minute; a journey without check marks across sixteen national borders to his daughter, however, succeeds. In its combination of fairy-tale nature, historical background and eerily topical reality, this collection of poems is Benders’ best since he lost count.


You have no time to read this, but that is because you are no longer human. If something of the original person were still alive in you, the old mycelia of childhood, then you would learn a lot from this book, indeed, with its magical knowledge, it might become your most useful possession. A book about the human imagination, and how it managed to get into the iron grip of trans-dimensional cockroaches. Furthermore, there are also magical tips to substantially improve your life and your time acceleration, and M.H.H. Benders also makes light-hearted mincemeat of the entire Dutch literature, what more could you want!

If you don’t want to crawl around mars like a cyber insect under a scrubbed boot – which is on the agenda – then you’d do well to read this book.

The first collected work of Martinus Hendrikus Hogervorst-Benders comprises no fewer than 712 pages and weighs in at least 1.4 kilos in thin print. It is the most ambitious collection written in the last thirty years, and certainly one of the highlights of Dutch literature as a whole, in line with Snoek and van de Woestijne. Anyone with a heart for literature and who wants to read an ambitious book brimming with cast-iron poems instead of yet another typical Dutch-language ‘masterpiece’ will be delighted with the purchase of this brick.

The Microdose Bible is the worlds most comprehensive and complete oversight of mind altering substances, teacher plants and mushrooms. Dutch mycologist and philosopher M.H.H.Benders takes you on a magical journey full of wonder about what teachers nature has to offer. Includes the Psychosupersum, a guide that describes all known mental disorders and offers wisdom for their treatment. 

This book will be published end of 2022.