Category: Fourre-tout

Just like butter, laughing matters are now in short supply. Between the crass ineptitude of our “chosen” headman and the sexual harassment epidemic, we are gasping for fresh air. Laughing might be is the answer.

Contrary to American lore, my life goal has never been the boring pursuit of happiness. My own Holy Grail is the quest for laughter. I know that this sounds un-American, but I don’t care. My ultimate objective in life is to be laughing as much as I can… hopefully on my way to the bank.

Laughter is the universally recognized remedy for a variety of ailments. It is more effective than any pills peddled by Big Pharma, and it is much, much more cost-effective.

Personally, I am leery of people who never smile and constantly say, “Believe me”. Who knows what brews in the mind of an unsmiling character?
A smiling person will seldom harm you, while a sinister-looking character probably will. Himmler, it seems, practically never smiled.

As a matter of fact, there ought to be a court-appointed jester in every institution of the land… especially in Congress. Neutralized and united by laughter, timorous congressmen may finally agree on a few things and pass some needed bills.

Against the assault of laughter, nothing can stand. — Mark Twain

If you are attentive, you can find laughing matters in many places… starting with our own Casa Blanca and its fauna.

To sum it up, if you want to live a long healthy life, practice laughing daily. Laugh while doing yoga, paying taxes or doing your sandbag workout. No matter what, laugh Pagliaccio, laugh because laughing is far more potent than crying.

I will now decamp with the time-honored showbiz motto “Always Leave Them Laughing”:

A nice lady went into a pharmacy, walked up to the pharmacist and said, “I would like to buy some cyanide.”
-The pharmacist asked, “Why in the world do you need cyanide?”
-The lady replied, “I need it to poison my husband.”
-The pharmacist exclaimed, “Lord have mercy! I can’t give you cyanide to kill your husband. That’s against the law! I’ll lose my license! They’ll throw both of us in jail! All kinds of bad things will happen. Absolutely not! You CANNOT have any cyanide!”
The lady reached into her purse and pulled out a picture of her husband in bed with the pharmacist’s wife. The pharmacist looked at the picture and replied, “Well now, that’s different. You didn’t tell me you had a prescription.”

Alain

Hello my American kindred spirits! Are you going planning to go to France soon? And if so, how is your vocabulary?

If you feel a little uncertain, let me do my bit for the holidays. I am offering you 10 common expressions that are sure to endear you to French natives. Memorize them and use them adequately carefully to impress your Gallic friends.

« Pisser dans un violon » (to piss in a violin)
  To waste time on something futile

« Péter plus haut que son cul » (to fart higher than his arse)
  Full of himself, pretentious

« Il ne faut pas pousser mémé dans les orties » (don’t shove grandma in the nettles)
  Don’t push it too far

“Pédaler dans la choucroute“ (to pedal in sauerkraut)
 Trying hard but achieving very little

« Les carottes sont cuites » (the carrots are cooked)
 The jig is up

“Avoir le cul bordé de nouilles” (to have your ass lined with noodles)
  To be extremely lucky

« Pas piqué des hannetons” (Not spoiled by cockchafers)
  High-quality product

« Ça casse pas les briques » (it does not break the bricks)
  It is not very exciting

« Il me court sur le haricot» (he is running on my bean)
  He is bugging me

“J’ai la frite” (I have a French fry)
 I feel great

Got it? A vos marques… Prêts… Partez! You can thank me later.

Alain

I have been driving a car for a long time. Longer than I care to remember.
I first obtained my driver’s license in Paris, a few months before being drafted in the French army.
During my first few days as a conscript, our sergeant asked us who knew how to drive. Expecting a cushy driver job some of us said that we did.
OK said the man, pilot these wheelbarrows to the parade ground and pick up the dead leaves. So much for volunteering!

I originally learned how to drive on a Renault “Dauphine”, a cute little rear-engine car equipped with a manual transmission. Driving a vehicle with an automatic transmission is easier but it was not readily available in those days… and anyway, handling a stick is so much more fun than passively following your car’s directives.

A few days ago the California DMV graciously invited me to renew my driving license before my next birthday. A written test will have to be completed they said.
Very kind of you I thought, but I didn’t like the smell of it. This formality intimidated me. Like any seasoned driver, I know (most) of the road rules, but don’t ask me about statistics or figures. Don’t ask me about fines, distances, percentages… I absolutely don’t know the answers and I don’t think that knowing these details is necessary.

But the DMV ridiculously insists that I should be cognizant of these pesky numbers if I want to continue driving. Curse you DMV bullies!
Yes, I want to continue driving so I started to cram online for my upcoming exam; the questions asked confirmed to me that some of them are pointless.

For instance:

For an underage driver, a blood alcohol concentration (BAC) of _______ gives California authorities the legal right to arrest the individual.

0.01%
0.03%
0.00%
0.05%

Do you know the answer? Be honest, Santa is watching.
I am well aware that I should not drink and drive and this is good enough for me. I don’t need to know what exact percentage of alcohol in my bloodstream can send me to the pokey.

But driving is synonymous with self-reliance and I am fiercely independent. I don’t want to rely on anybody to take me anywhere… even though I belatedly discovered that being driven has a few advantages. For instance, you can snooze while somebody else is behind the wheel…

Have you ever noticed that anybody driving slower than you is an idiot, and anyone going faster than you is a maniac? George Carlin

Well, I have a date (yes you need an appointment) with the DMV a few days after Christmas. Wish me luck, or as we say in France “merde” (break a leg).

Alain