L’Hydre de Lerne

Emeutes en Suède, non-droit dans les banlieues françaises, carnage à Londres, attaque à l’arme blanche à Paris, la fête continue.
Voilà où mènent le socialisme et ses séquelles. Voilà où mène l’inclusion, la diversité,  la tolérance, la bénévolence, la disposition à excuser.
Parce que dans les pays socialistes on excuse beaucoup (la Suède commence maintenant a s’en mordre les phalanges) l’on donne royalement et l’on punit peu, et a contrecœur semble t-il. Les malfaiteurs, ces pauvres petits, ont toujours des excuses et des défenseurs passionnés.

Voici pourquoi beaucoup de « modérés » basculent aujourd’hui dans une extrême droite insidieuse.
Un cas de « ras le bol » exacerbé par une politique désastreuse.

Entretemps, l’Hydre Islamiste continue à grandir et a faire des victimes.
« Cette créature est décrite comme un monstre possédant plusieurs têtes, dont une immortelle. Ses têtes se régénéraient doublement lorsqu’elles étaient tranchées, et l’haleine soufflée par les multiples gueules exhalait un dangereux poison, même durant le sommeil de l’animal. »

Il y a eu quelques têtes tranchées bien sûr, mais comme le dit la légende, elles se régénèrent et deviennent plus virulentes encore (voir Londres).

Au lieu de permettre la construction de nouvelles mosquées (avant-postes de subversion financés par des intégristes), l’état serait plus avisé de construire des prisons.
Pourquoi être si accommodants avec les musulmans, quand les musulmans sont si foncièrement hostiles a l’Occident?

Malgré les rodomontades de ses dirigeants, la France continue à sombrer et sera bientôt dans la même déplorable situation que la Grèce, l’Espagne et le Portugal.
Dans de telles circonstances, la France n’a pas d’un besoin d’un bricoleur et d’une « boite a outils ».


Elle n’a pas besoin d’un homme « normal », mais plutôt d’un homme hors du commun dans le moule de Clemenceau, De Gaulle ou Churchill.
François Hollande est clairement un homme qui « pete plus haut que son cul », un « petit » qui veut jouer avec les « grands » et qui n’arrive pas a se faire entendre.

La France a besoin d’un pragmatiste, d’un homme courageux n’ayant pas peur de prendre des décisions difficiles et « Flamby» n’est visiblement pas cet homme-la.

Les français ont plébiscité un rond-de-cuir quand il leur aurait fallu un Bonaparte, et après avoir payé une multitude d’impôts pour entretenir des gens qui n’ont jamais payé leur écot, il ne leur restera plus que leurs yeux pour pleurer.

Comme on fait son lit, on se couche!



State of the Union

Yesterday my wife and I commemorated our wedding anniversary.
To redeem my (somewhat tarnished) standing with feminists, I invited her to a French restaurant.
I think that women like this kind of attention, but don’t go by what I am saying, because after many years of matrimony I am still uncertain about what makes the other camp “frétiller du croupion » or “wag their tail” as some would say.

IMG_8198Every year, like the president of the United States, I try to assess the State of our Union. And like the Gipper I ask myself: am I better off today than I was 10 years ago?

Let me see…

Since I got married I lost most of my hair… and many pétanque tournaments… I incurred a stubborn case of Plantar Fasciitis… I lost a tooth and last week I woke up with a severe backache.
Would all these calamities have occurred if I had remained single?

I don’t know, but you must admit that this does not look good for the defendant. Because I ask you ladies and gentlemen, who else could possibly be responsible for this rerun of the Ten Plagues of Egypt?

But for lawyers who defend indefensible cases, things could easily be turned around.
The babes’ mouthpiece would probably start by quoting an old (always women-friendly) Arab proverb that goes something like “Life is a desert and the woman is the camel that helps man to cross it”.
Meaning: without your camel you would probably die of thirst in the middle of the desert.
Point well taken counselor.

But what about my ache-free bachelor days, and why did the Ten Plagues of Egypt befell me AFTER my marriage?
Warranties expire soon or later would say Gloria Allred, and it looks like yours expired more than a decade ago.

So how is the State of my Union? Mainly tolerable, but like many unions it sometimes erupts in fights.

But why fight? According to Georges Feydeau, “Why contradict a woman? It is much easier to wait until she changes her mind.”

So anyway, I have decided to renew my marriage contract, hoping that Water turning to Blood, Frogs, Gnats or Lice, Flies, Livestock Diseased, Boils, Thunder and Hail, Locusts, Darkness and Death of the Firstborn will avoid my household and strike bigger sinners than me.

And finally,

“Woman is, according to the Bible, the last thing that God made. He probably did it on Saturday night, and you can feel the fatigue.”

I did not say that, Alexandre Dumas son did.




Going commando

I just read that retired Desperate Housewife Eva Longoria had a “dress malfunction” and was “humiliated” (like so many other actresses) when it was discovered that she was going “commando” under her party dress.

I am a little non-plussed about the humiliation angle.
Going panty-less is clearly a calculated move –I don’t think that one “forgets” to put panties on- and the “embarrassing” revelation reeks of blatant attention seeking.

When I dress in the morning, I could very well bypass my Jockey shorts but I must admit that it would definitely be intended to titillate (and please) my legions of fans.

I have an inquiring mind and I don’t sleep well if burdened by unanswered questions.
I often wonder what prompts women to go “commando”…
Is it a ventilation problem, is it really to avoid showing panty lines, or does it have a little something to do with the delicious guilty pleasure of exhibitionism? The secret desire to flash and thrill unsuspecting crowds?

In Hollywood, as everybody knows, “the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about” and an actress needs to promote herself.
I do believe that “dress malfunctions” were conceived by some creative movie star agent, for a 30 seconds malfunction (see Janet Jackson) is worth a hundred pictures and each picture is worth in turn a thousand words.
Not a bad return for a 30 seconds flash-by.

For my part, when looking for a thrill, I sometimes intentionally wear only one sock and eagerly wait to be found out. I then pretend to be “humiliated” when the dark deed is “accidentally” discovered.
Oh, but don’t I love the fuss!
Pétanque star caught showing bare ankle, scream the trade mags…
I might lose tournaments, but people are talking about me, and for a publicity hound “there is no such thing as bad publicity.”

And that’s probably what “commando raids” are all about. The irrepressible craving for thespians to be noticed and gossiped about.

Personally, I am sometimes (for a fleeting moment) tempted to show my wares to the public, but I am also aware that familiarity breeds contempt and that national treasures should be protected and shown sparingly.

So for the time being, don’t expect any time soon any dress malfunction from my part (unless my agent urges me to show a little more skin of course).