Le Super Bowl

Dimanche prochain, le 3 février 2013, les rues de toutes les villes des Etats-Unis seront quasiment désertes.
Une belle occasion pour les perce-murailles de s’introduire (avec une relative tranquillité) dans le coffre de la banque du coin.
Ou pour les ennemis du Grand Satan de tenter une attaque surprise.
Le Japon, si vous vous en souvenez, avait assailli Pearl Harbor un Dimanche matin, quand l’Amérique avait comme on dit ici « ses pantalons sur les chevilles ».

Dimanche prochain donc, devant 75,000 spectateurs, les San Francisco 49ers affronteront les Baltimore Ravens à La Nouvelle Orleans.
Un évènement médiatique à la taille des Etats-Unis
Qu’il pleuve ou que le soleil brille, il ne sera pas question de mettre le nez dehors. L’Amérique sera ce jour-là rivé devant ses écrans de télévision.

L’année dernière, 159 millions de personnes ont suivi ce match, et cette année avec un battage publicitaire allant crescendo, ce record sera encore très certainement battu.
Les grands marchands sont évidemment intéressés par cette audience captive et payeront sans rechigner entre 3 et 4 millions de dollars pour un message publicitaire de trente secondes.
Une partie des téléspectateurs regarderont d’ailleurs ce match uniquement pour zyeuter les nouveaux « commercials » créés spécialement pour cette occasion.

Le football américain est aux Etats-Unis une religion, ou devrait l’être.
Si elle l’était, de nombreux conflits disparaitraient.
Blancs, Noirs, Jaunes, chrétiens, musulmans, juifs, tous seraient (et seront) unis par la même ferveur pour acclamer leurs nouveaux dieux. Les Dieux du Stade.
Des mastodontes souvent incultes pesant entre 100 et 135 kilos chacun.

Ces gladiateurs modernes seront hautement motivés par un bonus alléchant.
Les joueurs de l’équipe gagnante toucheront chacun 88,000 dollars et les perdants toucheront 44,000 chacun.
Pas trop mal pour une journée de travail !

Ce match déclenchera (ou a déjà déclenché) une série d’opérations financières atteignant des sommes pharamineuses.
Pour commencer, un grand nombre de téléspectateurs achèteront un nouvel appareil de télévision a écran plat pour cette occasion solennelle. Des appareils coutant entre 1000 et 5000 dollars pièce !

Ensuite, il y aura la bouffe. La Grande Bouffe !
Super Bowl Sunday est après Thanksgiving, le jour des excès; le jour ou l’Amérique consomme le plus de nourriture.

Traditionnellement, les téléspectateurs se réunissent avec leurs amis (à la maison ou dans un bar sportif) pour regarder le match à la télé.
Des quantités de nourriture pantagruéliques seront ingurgitées à cette occasion.
Comme je l’ai souvent dit auparavant, les américains (comme les chiens de Pavlov) sont maintenant totalement conditionnés à grignoter en regardant la télé. Télé = nourriture.

Et les aliments ingurgités à cette occasion donnent des sueurs froides aux nutritionnistes.
Chicken wings, buffalo wings, potato chips, pizza, tacos, guacamole, dips…
Sans compter les multiples boissons alcoolisées ou sucrées.
Des attaques cardiaques attendant de se produire soupirent les médecins.

Mais docteur, c’est le Super Bowl. Cela n’arrive qu’une fois par an, et c’est une expérience quasi religieuse… on ne peut pas l’ignorer. Que diraient nos voisins ?

Ah si c’est religieux c’est différent.
L’Amérique est un pays respectant Dieu et je ne me sens pas le droit de vous priver de cette expérience hautement spirituelle.
Allez y mes amis, buvez et bâfrez a coeur content !



Life coach

Lately I have noticed a lot of people proclaiming to be “life coaches”; frankly I cannot help being a little puzzled by their claims.

On television and in magazines, life coaches always appear to be young and handsome and I couldn’t help wondering where these whippersnappers got their experience and wisdom. In high school, the Playboy mansion?

But maybe a life coach doesn’t need to be experienced. Perhaps he doesn’t even need to be trained. Life coaching could be a calling, something like the priesthood.
Some morning you wake up, and you can feel very clearly that you should be a Life Coach.
Just like Moses.

Moses never trained to be a life coach. One morning he woke up and feeling a little cranky, he decided to climb the mountain nearby for a little exercise and relaxation.
Upon returning he simply told his people: follow me, I’ll be your life coach. Nobody asked for his credentials. But by then he was pretty old and people assumed that he was experienced.

Personally, if I were to look for a mentor, I would probably also settle for an older person.
In Greek mythology, Mentor was a friend of Odysseus king of Ithaca. When Odysseus left for the Trojan War, he put Mentor in charge of his palace and his son Telemachus.
I can understand that, because by then Mentor was an old man and he had seen a lot of action in his younger days.

So the first thing to remember is that a Mentor should be a relatively older person. Somebody no younger than sixty.
And no, chiseled abs or a large bosom do not compensate for a lack of experience.

The second nagging question I asked myself is: why would anybody need a life coach?
If you are handicapped, feebleminded or totally incapable of making a single decision (congressmen come to mind) I can understand, but why would a normal human being put his fate in the hands of some unknown dude?
Is this potential guru widely travelled? Has he/she spent some time in an Indian ashram? Did God reveal to him/her stuff that common mortals like us are not privy to?

Excuse me for being so crass, but like Saint Thomas I have a lot of doubts and need to be reassured before putting my fate in somebody’s hands.

I’ll tell you what…
I am over sixty, I have been around, I know a thing or two about pétanque… I am offering to share my infinite wisdom with you.
For a modest fee, I will change your life, and mine.

When I am through with you, you’ll be a different person and I will finally be able to live in style somewhere in the Marquesas Islands of French Polynesia.
Is it a deal?

No rush. Think about it.
I am always available for a free consultation.




Bill Clinton, Franz Kafka, George McClellan, Leonardo Da Vinci, Truman Capote, Hamlet, Abraham Lincoln…
What did all these people have in common?
They were goddamned PROCRASTINATORS, that’s what they were!
Those horrible people who are putting off until tomorrow what should have been done yesterday!
To be or not to be?
What kind of wishy-washy prince is this? Off with his head!

One of my (many) failings is the fact that I am impatient.
I won’t deny it; like Athena I was born fully-grown, armed and in a hurry.
My kind doesn’t fancy waiting and despises lollygaggers.
Unfortunately it seems that I am surrounded by those #@*&%!

Like bedbugs, procrastinators appear to be everywhere, even in our little club.

It has come to my attention that some people (in spite of repeated warnings) were late in renewing their annual club’s subscription.
As prescribed by our bylaws, they were fined a $5.00 late fee for this infraction; most paid up but some objected.
Well fellow “boulophiles”, I don’t have the slightest sympathy for those individuals.
The IRS gave you a deadline for paying your taxes and they don’t care about your measly excuses.
Pay up or shut up, they politely say.
And so should our club say!

None of the great feats of human daring could have taken place with some indecisive dawdler at the helm!
Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Joan of Arc, Horatio Nelson, Theodore Roosevelt, George Patton… those people were not in the habit of postponing anything!

imagesI don’t think that Napoleon would have tolerated any procrastinator in his staff.
One his cavalry generals, Antoine-Charles-Louis de Lasalle famously said:

« Tout hussard qui n’est pas mort à trente ans est un jean-foutre. »

Any hussar who is not dead by the age of thirty is a jackass, or a “tosser” as our friends across the pond would say.

To avoid being called a procrastinator general Lasalle managed to get killed at the battle of Wagram in 1809. He was 34.

To sum it up ladies and gentlemen of the jury, do not be a procrastinator and don’t wait to be bitten in the “derriere” to fulfill your obligations.
I rest my case.