Au Cochonnet Marin

You might not be conscious of it, but your computer is a packrat!
From the minute it enters into service, your devoted assistant will preserve every document that you ever produced or received.

The keeper of all your secrets works silently, diligently, efficiently… and never complains or rebels. Its motto is simple: “ask and I shall deliver.” A perfect civil servant.
But one day, after years of irreproachable service, you will start noticing that your collaborator is slacking off. It does not respond the way it used to do. It is taking its time… and you will have to wait to have your requests acknowledged.

Truth be told, the poor thing is not healthy anymore. It is bloated, and its arteries are clogged. It is now incapable to keep up with you.
Don’t look any further… your computer is simply growing old and unable to promptly respond when you call. It might need a physical, go on a strict diet, or (shudder) put out to pasture.

On average, a person that relies daily on a computer keeps the same device for about 5 years. After that time, he needs to send his assistant to a rehab center for a thorough cleanup or purchase a new one.

Most people don’t realize that, after a while, a lot of “undesirables” are entering and squatting on their computers. These uninvited guests try to be discreet, but they significantly affect the smooth running of your machine.
A computer is a packrat, no questions about it. It stores everything that you receive or create, and if you don’t do a thorough Spring cleaning every year, you are headed for trouble.

If you get a new computer, you naturally want to transfer all the data from the old machine to the new one… and this can be troublesome. Because when you do this, you will also include the illegal (and sometimes dangerous) residents of your former device.

So, yes, I got a new iMac, and I used Apple’s Migration Assistant to transfer all the stuff from my “old” machine to the new one. But unlike “La Migra”, this assistant showed great understanding and asked no embarrassing questions.

A while later though, I discovered that this “understanding” also allowed over 4500 old Gmail messages… and a multitude of space grabbing attachments to move into my new machine.
I had to perform a tedious manual cleaning operation to get rid of it.

Moral of the story: your computer is a packrat! You have to regularly scrub it to dispose of unwanted energy-sucking varmints to keep it running smoothly.

Alain

Everybody longs for friends, but when you collect too many of them, their individual value decreases dramatically. It is like having too many toys…

Lately, I have been besieged on Facebook by people from the four corners of the world who want to be my friends. Particularly single women… The latest one being a very attractive single lady from South Korea.

It is flattering but also perplexing. Why do all these strangers want to buddy up with little ole me? I am not rich, handsome, famous or even single… And you cannot smell my particularly potent pheromones on the internet… So, what gives?

True, I am a world-famous “influencer”… (actually not that famous) but is this enough to make me so appealing? Or do I smell a rat under this avalanche of requests?

I have always valued quality over quantity, and having too much of anything has always made me uneasy. A little  is good, a little more is pleasant, but too much is embarrassing. I far prefer to have 2 or 3 besties rather than 20 or 30 casual hangers-on.

“A good friend is like a four-leaf clover: hard to find and lucky to have.” Irish proverb

And then, some people seek my benevolent friendship without giving me a single detail about their own lives. It is not kosher. It does not work that way. My life philosophy has always been “show me yours and I will show you mine.” Before I give you my virtually blessing, I want to know if you are clean, if you don’t have ulterior motives or if you have not been infected by some dangerous political disorder.

It is difficult (but not impossible) to be friend with somebody who does not share your political convictions. Soon or later we are going to clash. And I don’t care for extremists, conspiracy nuts or cult followers of any shape or color.

So, how do I decide who is going to be a “friend”? I first want to see a picture and a little background of the candidate. Then, what kind of affinity does this person have with me? If he/she speak French, I understand… it is a plus. If this person plays pétanque, that’s another plus. If he/she does not care for an incompetent, self-centered, petty so-called leader, this is another big bonus point.

On the other hand, if somebody admires my writing skills or any other craft that I may possess (?), this might also sway me. Because yes, like Achilles, I have a chink in my armor… Under my imperial demeanor, I am vain. Stroke me and I will lick your hand and wag my tail.

To sum it up, if you want the pleasure of my company, show me reasonable reasons why I should accept your proposition and welcome you in my select inner circle.

Alain

“A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked.” – Bernard Meltzer

Last night I was walking by a school’s soccer field and I stopped to watch a game. After a while, somebody asked me if I wanted to play and I eagerly agreed. In my school days, even though I was of small stature, I was nimble and often able to infiltrate our opponents’ defenses.

So, I walked on the field and after a few minutes, I went on the offensive. I was fantastically efficient. I managed to pierce the enemy’s defenses, and for a few brief seconds, I came within a few yards from the opponents’ goalkeeper. From my position, I could clearly see where I should drive the ball… to the left corner… I gave a mighty kick… and fell out of bed!
After my wife picked me up, it took me a few seconds to realize what had happened.

Last night was a strange one indeed. It was hot, humid, oppressive… but after midnight I managed to go to sleep. But my slumber was not a peaceful one. All kinds of strange things happened, but it took it all in stride. No matter what, you cannot steer a dream. It will take you where it wishes. What goes on in your brain while you are sleeping is still a mystery that scientists are still trying to elucidate.

Suddenly the sky lit up and the gods (who must be darned tired of us) let us know of their displeasure. They repeatedly threw their lightning bolts at us while loudly sounding their drums. You humans, better behave… or else!
My cat who likes to wander during the night was nowhere to be seen.

This strange turn of events reminded me of a French song called “Les loups sont entrés dans Paris.” (“The wolves have entered Paris.”)

“What if it was a night
As we have not known since,
For a hundred thousand nights.
A night of iron, a night of blood,
One night, a dog howls.”

 For now, it seems that packs of wolves are roaming the countryside, ready to invade and pillage our cities. They come out at night, like the marauding brigands of yesteryear.

 “Attracted by the smell of blood
There came a thousand and a hundred
Carousing, jubilation and bombance
In this damn country of France
Until the men found
Love and brotherhood …”

 Love and brotherhood are sorely missing right now. Increasing street confrontations remind me of pre-World War II Germany. They wanted a strong man to reestablish law and order, and they got him.

It just cost the modest sum of 85 million casualties.

Alain