Free lunch

IMG_9327 - Version 2There is no such thing as a free lunch!
How many times will I have to tell you?

For some, the lure of the word “free” is like honey to bears, but you ought to know that there are always strings attached. Like the strands of a cobweb.
Almost invisible but extremely strong.

If you think about it, why would anybody offer you anything for free? Why would any stranger give you the fruit of his/her labor for “cacahuètes” (peanuts)?
I may sound coldhearted, but it doesn’t make sense to me.
There are more Jobs than Wozniaks out there. The Woz would give you anything gratis but Steve would not, and I respect that.

Nowadays danger lurks everywhere, especially in the cyber jungle. Electronic traps are set ubiquitously, ready to catch unwary web surfers.
The French say “always turn your tongue seven times in your mouth before you speak” and I would advise to at least think twice (no, thrice) before you click on that alluring “free” button.

There are many free apps on the web but most of them have a dark side. They are written to spy on you and your spending habits. Mainly on your spending habits.
And this precious data is harvested and sold to people who will do almost anything to separate you from your cash.

Also beware of the smartphone that your girlfriend gave you for Christmas.
It is a Trojan horse.
It will allow her to keep track of you anytime anywhere and pounce on you when you least expect it.
If you are inclined to indulge in casual dalliances, beware of your little electronic bosom buddy. It will spy on you and spill the beans quicker than you can say uncle.

Keep in mind that snoops are everywhere and that privacy is a thing of the past, like chivalry and cathode ray tubes.
I may sound paranoiac, but don’t come running back to me when somebody drains your bank account through a “free” application.

So, put the kibosh on that “free” thing and pay for what you want.
You might also consider paying me for my free advice.
You will be safer and happier!

Bonne et heureuse année, you all!



Why do I write?

Some people might have been wondering what compels me to write.
Why do I spend a great deal of time hunched in front of my computer?
It is a fair question and I’ll try my best to answer it.

First of all, I am retired and I have plenty of time on my hands.
Everybody knows that idle hands are the devil’s workshop, so to thwart Beelzebub’s nefarious plans (I know that he has had his eyes on me), I had to occupy my lazy hands.

Since everything I like is illegal, immoral or fattening, I decided to use my modest writing talent to keep out of trouble.
I write about whatever strikes my fancy, but I also use my soapbox to “kvetch”.
If something displeases me, I kvetch (and I urge you to do the same).

Over the years, I have become a “masterkvetcher”.
I kvetch (among other things) to avoid seeing a priest or a shrink.
Because when something bothers you, you need to be able to vent your frustration.
Kvetching is a safety valve. People unable or unwilling to let loose will soon or later pop their cork and harm somebody.

I also write because I probably have egotistical and exhibitionist tendencies. Like everybody else, I want my fifteen minutes of fame.
And by the way, I don’t wear an overcoat and expose myself to women and schoolchildren, but if I didn’t write I cannot say for sure what I would do. So for everybody’s sake, allow me write.

I always liked playing with words and I also enjoy the mental gymnastic associated with the writing process.
When I compose, I use word-processing and I also make good use of the blessed “cut and paste” feature. I just cannot imagine being in the shoes of Balzac or Dumas who wrote everything in longhand and spent additional long hours rewriting some paragraphs.

I like to compare myself to a blacksmith, hammering sentences into pleasant shapes. And you should know that it takes a lot of sweat and hammering to come up with the proper words and flowing sentences.

So forgive my scribbling impulses and if you like it, let your friends know about it.
Thank you.


PS: I like the word “kvetch”. It sounds very similar to a blue plum called La Quetsche d’Alsace that I used to be very fond of in my youth


Pot of gold

Stop! Stop everything! I know where the gold is!
It looks like it is buried in my garden, at the end of the rainbow that miraculously appeared yesterday.

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The leprechauns haunting my garden must have stashed their gold coins in my backyard, and all I need to do is to negotiate with them what is my fair share of the loot
Because possession is nine-tenths of the law, isn’t it? It is in my garden therefore what’s buried in it belongs to me. That’s what my Tinsel Town lawyer told me.

Even if they were not keen on sharing their gold with me, I could trap one of these little guys and in exchange for his freedom I could demand three wishes.
Because if ever captured by a human, the Leprechaun has the magical power to grant three wishes in exchange for their release. That’s the law.

Now, what would I do with my three wishes? Difficult question!

I would have to be very careful because once granted, wishes cannot be rescinded.
So what could I wish for? I am handsome, smart, talented, charming… What could a guy like me possibly want?
Broads? Booze? Boules?

I could wish for making that *#&@* Fiskal Kliff fall off the surface of the earth.
I could wish for transforming all the guns of the world into spaghetti.
I could wish for transforming all hate-peddlers into comedians. In spite of themselves they could not help telling jokes and making people laugh.

So, what am I going to do may you ask?
Well, I am not going to tell you. For to come true, wishes cannot be divulged.

But you better be nice to me because if you cross me I could unload a nasty spell on you.
On the other hand, if you want to curry my favors, let it be known that I am fond of suckling pigs, Parma Hams and goose “rillettes”.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!