Au Cochonnet Marin

Unlike my (many times removed) cousin Zac Efron, I am not a celeb and I am glad that I am not. If I were, my life could be hellish.

If I were a celebrity I would have to wear torn jeans.
That’s what they do.
Being a neat freak (in some areas) I couldn’t do that. I absolutely hate well-off people wearing torn jeans (especially when appearing on television).
Because really, what is the message?
I have plenty of dough and I could afford some fancy jeans, but I don’t care about social mores. I do as I please and if you don’t like it, hell with you.
Conceited and disrespectful. Not my style.

If I were a celebrity, I would have to pretend to be mad at paparazzi.
I said pretend, because those guys are the people who keep the flame of celebrities burning bright.
If they didn’t shoot you in every possible situation, your star would quickly tarnish.
So I couldn’t bite the hand that fed me.

I would have to do drugs.
It goes with the territory. In the firmament of newsmakers you are never too high. If you think that you are flying too low, a few snorts of cocaine will boost you back in high orbit.
Not for me. I am leery of height.

I would have to wear dark glasses.
It is the required apparatus of a star’s wardrobe. A celebrity wears them to supposedly go incognito. But oversize dark glasses don’t hide anything. They just emphasize the fact that you desperately want to be noticed.
I couldn’t do that. I am too modest and large specs (Audrey Hepburn style) would make my head (my best feature) look too small.

I would have to hook up with a very young or much older chick.
As a star, I could not have a normal love life. It would be beneath my condition. As a celebrity I would need to shock and a regular girl is not what my business manager would recommend.
Don’t be conventional. Take them young or old. No in-between. It will create a nice buzz.
Nah!

I would have to hop from bed to bed.
No self-respecting “celebrity” sleeps in the same bed every night. If you do that you are utterly bourgeois and don’t belong in showbiz.
Personally I like to sleep in a familiar bed. I don’t want to have to tame a new mattress (and a woman) night after night.
I’ll pass.

I would have to go braless.
If I were a woman, I would have to go braless and have occasional dress malfunctions to boost my ratings.
Nothing like an inadvertent (?) nip slip to rally the paparazzi.
Not for me. My nips are too small and not pert enough.

I would have to be obnoxious and profusely apologize next day (maybe not).
I don’t like obnoxious. It is not my style. I leave this to rockers and rappers. It is their bread and butter.
I don’t want to starve them.

I would have to lose or gain weight regularly.
A no-no. My magnificent body is my temple; I cannot mess with it.

So to sum it up, I don’t want to wear dark glasses, ripped jeans or snort coke.
I am not cut for Hollywood. I am just a guy who is too plain to be famous.
I am just famously plain, and I like it that way!
I you want to adore me, it’s OK but don’t expect me to ever wear torn jeans or go braless.

Alain

“Control your own destiny or someone else will.”
Jack Welch

Like good fairies, relatives and friends gather around the crib of a newborn baby to look at him and to speculate about his/her future.
When he grows up, what is he going to be?
He has big ears, says one; he will be a musician. She has a big mouth, says a dentist, probably a politician. He cries a lot, says a Republican, he will be a Socialist.

But the future is not what it used to be.
When I was a child it was a mirage shimmering on the horizon. Today it is a harsh reality and it is banging on your door.
And you cannot ignore it because nothing is more dangerous than a lack of information.

So, who owns the future?
Techies and lawyers! That’s who. And plumbers! There is gold in them faucets!

[like]

Techies will routinely outperform Jesus in the miracles department.
They don’t speak Aramaic but communicate through a bizarre combination of digits only understood by their own disciples.
Their altar is a keyboard and they worship a Golden Calf who goes by the name of Logic.

Thanks to them, blind people will see (bionic eyes), cripples will walk (bionic prosthetics), deaf-mute will speak (via brain waves) and lepers will be cured (gene therapy).
In an increasingly politically correct world, even wars will fought with “green ammunition”.

“Green bullet, green ammunition or green ammo are nicknames for a United States Department of Defense program to eliminate the use of hazardous materials from small arms ammunition and from small arms ammunition manufacturing. Initial objectives were elimination of ozone-depleting substances, volatile organic compounds, and heavy metals from primers and projectiles.”

In other words, people will be killed cleanly. This novel idea will definitely please the ecologists.

What about love and emotions?
No worries. Like in India, a machine will pick the right mate for you. And it will do a better job than you would.

So how do we deal with the future?

As Jacques de Chabannes, Lord of La Palice would say, “We must embrace it, because regardless of our age or beliefs the future is here to stay.”

Well said Jacques!

(“…two days before his death / he was still quite alive”.)

Alain

It is “déjà vu” all over again.

Blocked streets, smashed or overturned cars, burning tires, scuffles.
The French are at it again. Doing what they do best. Protest.
When I say French, this time I mean Parisian cab drivers even though all French are born with a “protest “gene.

They are angry at the “Uberification” of their profession.
Unfair competition they say.

Maybe, but first who/what is Uber and why is it such a bugaboo?

Uber is an American international company headquartered in San Francisco, California.
It created and exploits the Uber mobile app, which allows consumers with smartphones to request a car ride from private individuals.

How do you use that thing?

First, you must download the (free) Uber application to your smartphone.
Then you authorize Uber to access your location.
Next you enter your email address and a mobile phone number.
You create a Password.
You enter your First name and Last name.
And finally, you enter a credit card number.

Et voila! You are now part of a growing club whose members can summon a ride at the click of a button.

When you first access Uber on your smartphone, you must select a pickup location, then a destination.

• You then select the car best suited for your ride (sedan or van)
• You tap “Set Pickup Location” to request your ride.
• You tap Fare Estimate to see the range of fares for your trip.
• At the end of a ride, the complete fare is automatically billed to the customer’s credit card.

As you can see, it is very efficient and customers overwhelmingly like it. But cab drivers don’t. Naturellement!

So what’s the big fuss all about anyway?

The cab drivers’ union argues that amateur drivers don’t have to pay a licensing fee ($270,000 in France) to operate their vehicle and that gives them an unfair competitive advantage.
Again maybe.

But the Uber technology is much more efficient (and often cheaper) than the antiquated taxicabs’ monopoly.
And it is not up to the taxi drivers to decide what’s best for the customers. It is the other way around.

In spite of the present ruckus, the transition to Uber technology is inevitable; it is effective and people want it.
And tellingly big smart venture capital (Google) is backing it.

Today’s cab drivers are like stagecoach drivers. A thing of the past.
So cabbies, you must adapt or perish.
If you cannot beat them, it would be wise to join them… and many cab drivers have already done so.

Of course there are still a few kinks in the system but I would bet my bottom dollar that Uber will prevail.

So what do you prefer? Chasing a taxicab or being wooed by it.

A no-brainer!

Alain

“The best path towards reform would be for cities to abolish the need for medallions, by allowing anyone within reason who wishes to drive—whether for cab or rideshare companies—to do so.” Forbes magazine