Inevitable: Either The Crowbar Hotel At The Hague, Or The Sweatlodge At Hollyhock

Green party activist, sensitive poet, a brief interregnum as the Butcher of Bosnia, and then Radovan Karadzic changed his name to Dragan Dabic (his website is here - or maybe it isn't, but his amulets are for sale here), indulged his weakness for low-fat yoghurt and specialized in meditation, spiritual cleansing, Yoga, bioenergy and macrobiotics.

He could have got one of these gigs. Turns out he'll be on trial instead.

It is widely believed our senses and mind can recognise only one per cent of whatever exists around us. Three per cent we understand with our hearts. All that remains is shrouded in secrecy, out of the reach of our five senses; however, it is within our reach in the extrasensory manner. - Dragan Dabic.

Like Paulie always says: Never Trust a Hippy.

Shiraz Socialist promises to keep an eye out for the inevitable histrionics from Karadzic's apologists, whose first cousins at Spiked, I see, are already out of the paddock.

UPDATE: This is a reliable analysis. Also by Marko, a sobering view across the broad horizon, in Standpoint.