Les Chroniques Saint Pierre.

J'peux pas j'suis au régime

2010-05-10T15:00:00.003+02:00

L'obésité, nous le savons bien, est une fatalité féminine. Nous serons toutes grosses un jour, et même si nous ne le sommes pas là maintenant, il faut faire très attention à ne pas tomber dans le piège infâme de la surcharge pondérale. Si nous faisions ça, nous serions vouées à jamais à une sorte de non-existence tout à fait déprimante et assez horrible.

LES SOLUTIONS: Il y en a deux.

On accepte les gros, puisqu'on ne peut pas les contenir. On met des femmes obèses en couverture de magazines, et on loue leur fabuleuse mine, leur merveilleux manque de complexes, et leur façon de croquer la vie et tout le reste à pleines dents. Sauf qu'en réalité l'obésité, ce n'est pas la santé, et qu'on peut être sûr que de la page 5 à la page 85 de ces mêmes magazines, il y aura un dossier "spécial minceur pour ne pas paraître repoussante à la plage". Autrement dit, l'obésité, c'est fantastique, mais c'est un truc qui n'arrive qu'aux autres. Tant mieux pour eux, et c'est louable, vraiment. Mais bon.... berk, quoi.
On fait un régime à base de Light. Certes, on boit du Coca. Mais c'est du Coca Zéro- ça passe. On se gave de petits biscuits weight-watchers. Loin de moi l'atroce notion du "si tu veux maigrir, arrête de manger des biscuits". Nous devons tout avoir, et puisqu'apparemment les femmes, toutes et sans exception, adorent d'une passion dévorante tout ce qu'il y a de plus dégoûtant dans l'alimentaire, elles mangeront. Et ne s'arrêteront jamais. Même si elles font parallèlement un cinéma très ennuyeux parce qu'elles sont grosses. Tu m'etonnes. Faire un régime composé de Nutella et de Pizza Hut, même Light, c'est juste faire preuve de stupidité.

Donc. Si les femmes ne sont pas idiotes, elles sont obèses et fières de l'être. Ce qui revient à dire que toutes les femmes sont dans un état critique de déficit mental. Le bon sens est mort, vive le bon sens.

Beautiful People- or how I discovered I really shouldn't exist

2010-04-13T19:02:00.005+02:00

You have probably heard of the Beautiful People thing- that site where shirtless people and DUCK FACES simply thrive. It's very shallow. I don't object to the shallowness of it at all- I love the shallowness. What I dislike is the liberalism of the site. They let anyone in to begin with- I have seen double chins, furry faces, arm flab, spots, twisted teeth, awful hair, weird ears and really very bizarre noses. All this, of course, is incredibly disturbing. The initial kindness does not last long though (Thank God- où va donc le monde?)- at the moment, I am being "rated" by other members of the site. This means that, basically, they all say how hideous I am, and I don't get to join the world-wide elite of attractive people. I feel I should cry, really, having as I do 48 hours to know if my life is worth living or not, and so far, things are not looking good- I am, or so it seems, one the least attractive people online. Considering the amount of big red crosses my profile is gathering (at terrible speed) I fear I have very few chances of ever forming a beautiful couple, going to a BP party, having a beautiful dog or even just leaving home without a paper bag on my head and NOT feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt and cruelty to the poor innocents who will be forced to see me. It is all quite distressing.
The funny thing is, though, that while my profile is joyously harpooned (I'm starting to think I have severe facial deformations or something), I have been peering nosily at all the Beautiful People out there. Most of them aren't all that beautiful. They are just posing. If it were a To Do List it would probably go as follows:

Women:

Neck: Craned. Like a giraffe.
Lips: Stuck out and quite voluminous. Like a fish.
Hair: All over the place. Like Cousin It
Breasts: Stuck out as far as they will go. Like an arse.
Eyes: Wide as possible, empty as can be. Like a corpse.
Nose: Try to ignore the nose. There is no nose. Noses aren't girly.

Men:

Pretty much anything. Criteria tends to be kinder. Although sunglasses and tans seem quite popular. As well as stuck out jaws and narrowed eyes. Like pirahnas on a beach.

If you are going to create a nasty selective and very shallow networking thing, you may as well go the whole hog and ditch all potentially not-quite-beautiful people. Let the fakery in, and there is no point- you'll still end up at a party with a bunch of people you don't find attractive.
For the fakers, there may be hope. Plastic surgery or really good lighting. For terminally ugly people such as myself, there is only one thing left, suicide set aside- To create a new site: Uglypeople.Com, to be wildly original.
Of course the slight problem with the name is that ugly people do tend to dislike the "ugly label", and take a very dim view of being cast as such. We see it as discrimination, and as very very evil. It's not. It's natural selection, survival of the fittest etc etc. But as even ugly people have feelings, it is forbidden to say so.
Therefore, dear friends, I invite you all to rejoice in the inauguration of my new social networking site: WONDERFULPERSONALITIES.COM which should result in the birth of perfectly hideous but very nice babies.

Rap The Casbah.

2010-03-31T21:12:00.003+02:00

Left outdoors in da Ghetto all alone
(from the album "Life be shit, innit", out in april 2010)

None of my clothes fit
But that don' mattah
Cause I walk like a chimp
An' mah name's MC Wankah

MC MC MC Wankah.
That's it now yell
MC MC MC Wankah.

I live on da streets
And rap for my livin'
No only jokin'
I not really spokin'
Da truth.
In real life I have a really big house
A massive car
And a fake-titted spouse
She be orange
And lovely
Her name is Melanie.
But I don't call her that
I call her My Biatch.
I'm a romantic at heart
I live for mah art
To tell the world about things
They already know is happening

MC MC MC Wankah
Come on y'all
MC MC MC Wankah

Who da man?
Who da man?
I da man!
I da man!

MC Wankah (real name: George Clarke)

THE CRITIC - Mr R. Slicker
MC Wankah's work is inspiring on a great many levels. Firstly, we have the general persona of him- this white, sandy haired, middle class, public school-boy who rose out of the abject misery of his birth to become a respected artist. He is in himself a very positive influence on all children from similarly difficult backgrounds- the proof that when you want to, you can reach the stars.
Then there is the extraordinary quality and truthful beauty of his lyrics- they emanate from, obviously, the very core of his being. "I da man" or how to assert yourself in a White Man's world. MC Wankah writes with power, with strength, and with courage. He is a brave new voice in the already insanely wonderful universe of Rapdom. MC Wankah, I think, is going to be around for quite a while...

L'Homme De La Rue, cet homme qu'on connaît si bien.

2010-03-26T08:57:00.004+01:00

L'Homme De La Rue est un rustre- un malappris qui ne connaît et ne s'intéresse aux sujets Elevés que lorsqu'ils passent sur Canal + ou sur TF1. Il ne comprend rien à la linguistique ou à la politique, et est tellement amorphe qu'il est nécessaire de s'écrier continuellement pour ne pas que L'Etat lui supprime ses Droits et autres prérogatives. Il n'aime que la télévision, la bière, la clope et le foot. Même si les temps changent, et avec eux les us, l'Homme De La Rue reste un sous développé mental- bien qu'aujourd'hui, étant civilisés et intellectuels, nous disons "En Voie De Développement", ce qui est synonyme de "Merdier Absolu" mais en moins vulgaire. L'Homme De La Rue est parfois une femme, un Jeune, ou un cadre supérieur, mais il reste un Homme très bien connu de tous ceux qui savent véritablement de quoi ils parlent- que ce soit de déchéance sociale, de pauvreté culturelle, d'illettrisme politique, d'alcoolisme croissant ou de suicide. Du coup, lorsqu'on sait de quoi on parle, et qu'on est un journaliste sérieux et qu'on a un blog, on se doit de parler constamment de l'Homme De La Rue- il est notre DEVOIR, en tant qu'Etre Plutôt Mieux de SAUVER l'Homme De La Rue de sa propre nullité. Le problème, c'est qu'avant, il faudrait savoir qui est cet homme. Et ça, c'est un des plus grands mystères depuis la naissance de Jésus.

Puisque nous sommes des créatures mentalement capables de jongler avec les concepts etc etc, nous allons passer outre le fait que L'Homme De La Rue est légèrement empreint de fallacieusité, et nous contenter de balancer dans l'éther des généralités que nous ferons passer pour des reflexions. De toute façon, L'Homme De La Rue, tant qu'on ne le force pas à manger des fruits de mer, il va pas faire chier.

PeTA GUEULE! / PeTA OFF!

2010-03-23T20:29:00.006+01:00

ENGLISH- As PeTA very helpfully pointed out in Berlin, one steak is four thousand litres of water. They go on to urge people to stop eating meat, because "Fleisch ist ein wasserverschwendung" (Meat is a waste of water)
So what is the solution? As far as I know, Steak = A Bit Of Animal, so if Steak = 4000 L of water, then Animal = A Hell Of A Lot More Water. Should we maybe consider a quick cattle genocide? It seems disgraceful to let so much water just roam about being useless, instead of being in baths or showers. Or on crops. To feed the vegetarians with... If no meat is eaten, then the meat must eat. If water and food that could be going into humans is going into cows, it's a terrible waste, considering how utterly pointless a bullock is if inedible. And what of giant pandas, emperor penguins, polar bears, koalas and bengal tigers? How irresponsible to let them live. To kill and eat an animal is evil because of the waste, but it's perfectly sensible to waste an animal. That seems logical enough. Let's do it.

PeTA is a very virtuous and justified organisation that fights relentlessly for the good treatment of animals, for the murder of fur-wearers, and for the protection of endangered species.

FRANCAIS- PeTA frappe encore un bon coup en déclarant de façon très utile à Berlin qu'un steak, c'est 4000 litres d'eau. Leur conclusion: "Fleisch is Wasserverschwendung" (La viande est un gaspillage d'eau) Et que c'est honteux.
Quelle est alors la solution? De ce que je sais, Un Steak = Un Morceau D'Animal, alors si Un Steak = 4000 L d'eau, alors Un Animal = Beaucoup, Beaucoup Plus D'Eau. Ne devrions nous pas considérer un petit génocide de bétail? Il semble atroce de laisser tant d'eau se promener tranquille d'une façon complètement inutile, au lieu d'être dans une douche, ou dans un bain. Ou sur un champ. Pour nourrir les végétariens.... Si la viande n'est pas mangée, alors la viande devra manger. Si l'eau et les aliments qui pourraient être dans les humains sont dans les vaches, c'est du gaspillage monstrueux, lorsqu'on pense à quel point un boeuf ne sert à rien si on ne s'en nourrit pas. Et les pandas géants, manchots empereurs, ours polaires, koalas, et tigres de Bengal? C'est irresponsable de les laisser en vie. Tuer et manger un animal, c'est le Mal parce que c'est du gaspillage. Mais gaspiller de la bonne chair, c'est parfaitement raisonnable. Ca semble logique- on fait ça?

La PeTA est une organisation excellente et justifiée qui milite encore et toujours pour le bon traitement des animaux, pour l'assassinat des gens porteurs de fourrure, et pour la protection des espèces en voie de disparition.

Gertie Tibbet: Satan is a pigeon

2010-03-23T00:20:00.004+01:00

Evil has many guises. We know this- for some, It may take the shape of a red man with horns and a tail, for others, an innocent looking white slaver old lady. Then there are the traditional shapeshifts: hens, black cats, window cleaners, Bedlington terriers, Tony Blair...
For me, Evil is a pigeon.
Just the description of a pigeon is enough to persuade most people that Beelzebub resides within- the red eyes, the frequent limp, the general reptilian vermin-birdyness... I could go on. But what really convinced me was the time, two years ago, when one of the Evil Ones perched on my shoulder and spake thus: "Now, Gertie, what woulds thou have me do? I am a servant to great Lucifer and may not follow thee without his leave. No more than he commands must we perform." Of course, I instantly shot the creature- Evil did not appeal to me, and the very name of Lucifer caused me much distress, but the disgusting things were not discouraged, and the first pigeon was soon replaced by another. This one told me, and I quote: "Now Gertie, what will you do now? For I can tell you, you'll be damned with bell book and candle." Now, I was quite the God-fearing person, and have a reasonable head upon my shoulders, but this last comment did give me reason to think that I was dealing with something close to rather terrible. Normally, when the birdlets spoke to me, it was to tell me about nice, normal things. Like how difficult it is to get a job, or the appalling organisation of sky-traffic. Not this time. OH NO. The blasted pigeon went on "Fond worldling, now your heart blood dries with grief. Your conscience kills it, and your labouring brain begets a world of fantasies to overreach the devil" Obviously the horrid beast was spot on. I had no choice but to bend to it's will and listen to what it had to offer.
I, Gertie Tibbet, am now part of the Devilish Inner Circle- CEO of the company Infernos'r'us- best mate of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse- mistress in chief of Satan- and I warn you now: THE END OF THE WORLD IS NIGH. I'll survive, of course. Toasty warm in the bedrooms of Hell. You lot won't. Harharhar. You'll soon regret having me locked away in a loony bin. Just you wait.

"Go forth and sprog" said the genie to the miscreants.

2010-03-22T14:08:00.002+01:00

"Sprogging" or reproduction is meant to be one of Man's greatest interests. Spread your genes as you would butter, then look after them so that when you are dead, some part of you won't be. So far so sensible. But what happens when you have sprogged and you walk past somebody who hasn't? This can be anywhere- supermarket, street, bus, whatever. The main thing is to be as rude as you possibly can be. You have sprogged, therefore you are the Chosen People, and you have an enormous pushchair/pram/child. This means that you are perfectly entitled to walk past as slowly as you wish while the non-sprogger-underdog stands by patiently, grimacing in pain while their 20 kilo shopping bag cuts through their fingers. You then don't even thank said martyr- why would you? These things are natural. YOU have embraced Nature as well as Nurture. YOU have produced a wonderful little bundle of joy that everyone loves. YOU get to sit down before everyone else in the métro. And if you don't sit down, you can just shove your pushchair in and crush everyone else onto one another. On a really good day, you'll also be blocking the door, and stand there with an angelic smile that obviously means you are not sorry. Your only solidarity is with other people who have sprogged. And have slightly smaller pushchairs. You reserve the right to be pushy and rude about everything from queues to schools, and your mantra is "Just doing it for the kids". Pass the sick bag, please. Maybe the worst thing sprogging brings about is that terrible air of satisfied hard-done-by-ness. As in I'm suffering, but oh isn't he worth every second of it, my little roudoudou. Shut. Up. And GETONWITHIT.

Y'a pas d'place. Et ça rime avec connasse.

2010-03-20T18:32:00.003+01:00

Y'a pas d'place. No room. C'est o-ccu-pé. Et moi je vous emmerde. Il y a énormément de place. Mais mes amis vont revenir! Ca fait 30 minutes qu'ils "reviennent". Raclure. Non mais, et puis quelle horreur.

Cette diatribe est cordialement adressée aux nombreuses touristes scandinaves. Et cette diatribe peut également servir de guide touristique.

On n'accapare pas les tables, quand il est impossible pour les autres de rester debout, et qu'on est 3 à une table pour approximativement 15.
Qui va à la chasse perd sa feuque place, bordel.
Les négociations sont toujours ouvertes. Toujours.
Les français ne sont pas scandiphages. Ils aiment les baiser, c'est tout.
Vous êtes dans un bar à vin qui se situe dans un caveau. Pas sur une plage qui s'étend à perte de vue et où il y a des kilomètres conçus spécifiquement pour que vous ayez un endroit où garer votre énorme cul. Connasse.
Liberté, Egalité et Fraternité, ça ne s'etend pas aux ESTRANGERS.
Si on dit "en attendant que vos amis imaginaires reviennent, peut on s'intaller là? S'il vous plaît.", ça veut dire exactement ça. Pas qu'on va vous VOLER votre (bien grand mot de toute façon) table. Nein à la paranoïa.
Non, on ne va pas vous VOLER vos plans-cul du soir. Ils ont le nez dans votre vachesque décolleté, ils ne nous verront donc pas.
Je vous méprise.
Tapins.

C'est plus ou moins fini. PRENEZ EN NOTE, la prochaine fois que vous allez dans un endroit convivial.

signé La Direction.

Les élections à la Fuck- la campagne de l'ADECAPPT

2010-03-18T19:02:00.004+01:00

L'ADECAPPT
[Association Des Etudiants Contre A Peu Près Tout]

D'abord, une brève présentation de l'ADECAPPT, ses représentants, ses relations étrangères, et son histoire dans le monde de la politique estudiantine.
L'ADECAPPT est une association profondément humaniste qui permet aux étudiants d'obtenir le diplôme de leur choix en se dispensant de toute activité mentale. Son principal combat est en faveur des libertés fondamentales, façon Café Clope ou Dormir.

Ses représentants, la liste électorale pour ce mandat- G. de Bois, Malvina (Maloche) Veu, Anne Dormie et P. A Dessous

Lointaine cousine du parti Silly britannique, visionnaire et avocat du "standing in the corner looking silly", l'ADECAPPT vise un monde meilleur, où chacun pourra jouir de ses années à la fuck comme bon lui semble.
Voter pour l'ADECAPPT, c'est voter pour l'avenir.

Nos avancées et victoires ces deux dernières années incluent:

l'obtention du Droit de Jupe pour les hommes

la création d'un espace "pole dancing" dans l'UFR pour faciliter l'intégration de nos amies venues de l'Est.

Nous ne nous soucions nullement de la politique gouvernementale, cela ne nous semble pas d'une importance immédiate. Nous nous battons cependant pour de justes causes: Dire FAC à tout, et nous en arrêter là.

VOTEZ POUR L'ADECAPPT!!

Ou bien ne votez pas- nous sommes contre le vote.

Chroniques Saint Pierre, ou de l'idiotie ordinaire.

2010-03-15T18:18:00.003+01:00

J'adore les choses idiotes. Je les adore, et je crie haut et fort que je les adore, tout en sachant pertinemment que ce sont des choses idiotes, et de ce fait indignes de mon attention et largement en dessous du seuil de mon intelligence plus qu'extraordinaire. Je disais donc, en effet, que j'aime la stupidité. Le fait de vous dire cela, mes chers lecteurs à qui j'enseigne bien des choses, me situe, moi, dans une sorte de sphère parallèle et pourtant bien supérieure de l'intellectualisme. Si je manifestais un dégoût pour l'idiotie et la sous-culture (terme technique de la plus haute importance, en ces jours de deuil permanent de l'intelligence et de la culture, n'est il pas) on pourrait me harponner cruellement pour mon snobisme et ma méchanceté. Je suis, après tout, notable- je me dois donc de rester digne de cette position. La dignité est partenaire forcée d'humilité. Montrer avec horreur les déboires des sous-hommes qui constituent la Masse grouillante et infâme des Non Éclairés ne ferait que me faire paraître Mauvaise. Donc il n'y a pour moi aucun intérêt là dedans.
Montrer mon amour pour ce genre de bas enfantillages, cependant, confirme mon côté excellent.

Alors je dis, et je redis donc, que L'Idiotie est mon amie. Mais je le dis de façon très intelligente. Louez moi, s'il vous plaît. Portez moi aux nues.

Et puis surtout, mon ironie. Ah mon ironie. Partenaire constante de l'amour du Bas. Sinon mon amour de la stupidité paraîtrait sincère. Oh crime crime crime!

Hou La Jeunesse! Je dénonce, neo- "J'Accuse"

2010-03-10T17:15:00.005+01:00

La dénonciation, c'est le nouvel opium du peuple.
On "dénonce" ceci, on "dénonce" cela. Généralement, on dénonce des faits sociaux, ou des infamies gouvernementales, que tout le monde dénonce depuis au moins deux ans. Au final tout le monde se répète, et la "dénonciation", qui nous apporte le respect de nos congénères opiomanes, ne fait avancer strictement rien. Si les libertés fondamentales sont le fondement de ce fondement qu'est la République (D'où le nom, n'est ce pas) alors certes, il est très important de les protéger. De les défendre. De "dénoncer" les outrages qu'on leur fait. Mais, d'un autre côté, que les dénonciateurs n'exploitent pas aussi souvent qu'ils ne le pourraient, le simple fait de pouvoir "dénoncer", c'est pas mal. Surtout lorsqu'il s'agit de sujets éculés, rabâchés et plutôt évidents- on privilégie la Liberté, au détriment de la qualité et de la nécéssité. Le monde n'est pas idéal, et on vit dans le Drudgisme le plus abject. Là, on ne dénonce plus, on entre dans le domaine de la rengaine, autre opium. Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité, La Marseillaise et les autres chansons populaires sont maintenant devenues "On nous pique notre Liberté, on n'a plus de Fraternité, et l'Égalité, c'est une jolie fiction" autrement dit, on nous oppresse, et c'est bien triste. Mais ON LE SAIT, ÇA. Le Nazisme, c'est mal. On sait. Le royalisme, c'est pour les bigots et les Anglais. On sait. La religion, c'est une endoctrination. On sait. A force de dénoncer, on ne dénonce plus rien. On refait le monde, puis on fume un dernier petard avant de dormir. Il faut voter, génial. Aux dernières élections, on a élu, de façon on ne peut plus démocratique, un méchant Droitiste atteint de Mégalomanie et de Nanisme. Pourquoi? Parce qu'en face, il y avait une pimbeche becbeige qui ne parle qu'en néologismes empreints de douteusitude. Depuis ce jour d'exaltation de libertés républicaines, on dénonce le Petit Nicolas. On n'en finit plus- il est tyran, nouveau Napoléon, César-wannabe. Qui en pâtit? Les jeunes, et les autres. Plus personne n'a de sujet de dénonciation intéressante- si on ne dénonce pas Sarkozy et ses abus, L'Etat Policier, ou la tyrannie (contre lequel l'étendard politiquement correct est levé) ça ne compte pas. Or, il semblerait bien que ces sujets soient plus évidents qu'autre chose. La jeunesse "dénonce" en reprenant les propos de son professeur de philosophie ou des journalistes "défrayeurs de chronique", la jeunesse se plaint, la jeunesse Veut. Le problème, c'est que la jeunesse peut vouloir tant qu'elle veut, si elle n'invente rien, et ne "dénonce" pas pour de vrai, le Monde va continuer à faire ce qu'il à toujours fait- cracher sur la Jeunesse et ne pas la prendre au sérieux. Et il aura bien raison.

Animals got soul

2010-03-09T14:29:00.005+01:00

[half past twelve on Kusmi-Radio]

-Hello. I come in peace. My name is Tree Jenkins, and I'm here today to talk about Animals and the fact that they are as human as I am (or was, before the tofu kicked in).

-Hello, I don't come in peace, my name is Ivor Khan and I'm here to tell you that Tree Jenkins is a bollox-spouter.

-You may think that, my archaïc matey, but you're the bollox-spouter. You kill innocent beastlets to eat them.

-And? Everyone does. Everyone always has. Problemo being?

-The problem is that you are ruining my excusive interview. So will you please, I peacefully ask you, shut. The fuck. Up. Anyway. Back to creatures and their holyness.

-Of course they're holey- You have to get the meat out somehow, you nut-muncher.

-Comment beside the point, Ivor. Beside the point. I am a very caring person, and it seems obvious that animals should not be eaten because it amounts to murder. Human bloodlust should not be the cause of mindless assassination of ickle lambs and cows, who only want to roam free in Nature, our mother.

-[snorts]

- WILL YOU stop interrupting. It should be made illegal for humans to kill animals, because it amounts to forgiving a form of -ism. Like racism, sexism, agism, hippism or prismism. To quote George Orwell (and then we'll forget about him because he was not really a very -ismist person, except where dirty tramps were concerned) "All animals are equal". We are animals too, are we not? Therefore why should murdering a human be worse than murdering a sheep? We have the miracle of conscience, as do animals. We walk on four legs, like animals. We don't wear clothes, like animals, and we routinely commune with nature, like animals. This is universal. And so I really, really feel we should make an effort here. We should make an effort. Because otherwise- OH MY GOD THERE'S A MOUSE. THERE'S A MOUSE A FILTHY RAT QUICKGETITOUT! OUT! IHATEMICEARGHHDISEASE KILL IT KILL IT KILLITNOW!

-[falls off chair laughing] That would be murder. Sorry, no can do.

-REMOVE IT JUST TAKE IT AWAY.

-[leaves with mouse (pet mouse called Jonah, borrowed from niece)] You are a bollox-spouter.

-[re-ajusts clothes, stops pulling hair out. voice very high pitched] Back to what I was saying before It happened. Otherwise the general karma will be very bad, and the world will end. Plus, what we always used to call (in our typical archaïc and ever so passé way) instinct is utter rot. There is no instinct, only intelligence. Why else would a dog sniff things, an elephant have graveyards? Creatures are fully conscious of everything- to kill a pig is to kill your own child. This is why I only eat soya beanshoots. And air.

- [has returned, without Jonah] Fine. All animals are equal. So if a tiger kills a lamb it's murder. How do you explain that to the tiger?

-Oh but that's instinct, you're using an irrelevant example. Because you are a very agressive person. Very agressive.

-[leaves again] Oh for God's sake. Moron.

- SEE, SEE! VERY. AGRESSIVE. And that's all from me today, Goodbye! And don't eat meat. Live for Life!

Essai sur le thème des Lettres Modernes

2010-03-09T14:02:00.003+01:00

En première partie, il faudra se pencher sur la question fort compliquée de la différence transcendantale qui oppose les Lettres Modernes et les Vieilles Lettres. Deuxièmement, voyons les libertés dont jouissent les Lettres Modernes, toujours en opposant ces dernières et les Vieilles Lettres, et pour conclure en conclusion, nous en arriverons à décider ce qui fait la valeur véritable de ces Lettres Modernes, et ce en quoi elles sont fabuleuses. (Ça c'est l'introduction. Notons l'habileté avec laquelle le plan est présenté, la fluidité de l'écriture)

Les Lettres Modernes ont cela de particulier qu'elles sont en réalité beaucoup plus modernes que les lettres dites "Vieilles". Forcément, dire "Vieilles" ne paraît plus vraiment très décent- ainsi les Lettreurs actuels préfèreront le terme plus correct et mignon de "Séniors". Ainsi les Lettres Séniors paraissent plus intégrés à la société, et ne font plus de manifestations contre leur ostracisme. D'autant plus que les manifestations de Séniors, bien que parfaitement légales, sont franchement atroces. Imaginez une horde de Lettres sur cannes et trucs à roulettes qui bloque un carrefour. Ca prend des heures! Les infirmes, ça bouge très lentement. Mais je m'égare.
Les Lettres Séniors étaient plutôt bouclées, parfois gothiques. Elles étaient imprimées sur des peaux de mouton ou sur des bouts de bois. Ca explique leur sens du raffinement... Et ça, c'était tout nouveau. Les Lettres Séniors, avant, c'étaient des dessins. La honte, quoi. L'infériorité paraît indiscutable. Les Lettres Modernes sont bien mieux et bien plus avancées. On ne les voit que sur des écrans, ce qui rajoute à leur charme. Ou dans des textes de loi qui apparaissent en début de DVD et que personne ne lit. Les Lettres Modernes sont in-teg-rées. Et sont remarquables de par leur extrème lisibilité. A l'inverse des Lettres Séniors, on peut arranger les Lettres Modernes dans le sens qu'on veut, et, généralement, le truc obtenu aura un sens. Exemple: T grav fonsdé ramen oit tt ds8. CECI A UN SENS. C'est tout simplement fantastique, il faut en convenir. Ceci a pour résultat la démocratisation des Lettres. Les Lettres Séniors, elles, sont un peu compliquées, aussi pour comprendre leurs étranges arrangements, il faudra ouvrir et s'aventurer au sein de la maison de retraite- le Dictionnaire. Lorsqu'on est Lettriste Moderne, ça paraît navrant et vraiment assez ennuyeux. D'où le superbe des Lettres Modernes.

Les Lettres Modernes sont sexuellement libérées, ont le droit de vote, et sont libres de dire toutes les choses méchantes qu'elles veulent. Fin de la Deuxième Partie.

Concluons que les Lettres Modernes, c'est la feuque classe. Et qu'en plus, les Lettres Séniors sont en voie d'extinction. Du coup, qui s'en plaint?

The Retro Brigade

2010-02-27T15:23:00.003+01:00

To enter the retro brigade, you need to know the rules:
As in Fight Club, there are two. The first is that you must and will have mal de siecle, whether or not you know how it is spelt. The second is that anything published, produced, created, invented or worn after 1980 is worthless and should be spat on.
NO MEMBER OVER THE AGE OF 25 WILL BE ACCEPTED. They wouldn't understand.

The sixties were a golden age- the retro brigade members know this because they were there- there were no problems, no unfortunate situations, and no boring parents. Everyone was completely free. This much seems obvious.

The main mission of the retro brigade is to recreate this golden age right here, right now. Armed with weapons such as the BlackBerry, the iBook or the laptop (Apple is best), the sixties and that other decade that comes after the sixties will be made to re-exist, and the world will be a happier, shinier place. Just like uranium mines, in fact.
Of course, it goes without saying that all political persuasions must be extremely leftish, that washing should be reduced to a strict minimum, and that lots of drugs should be taken.
(NB- if you can't get hold of the drugs because all the dealers think you are too young to buy them, never fear, the retro brigade will provide you with a drug-hamper. Contents include pretty much anything, e.g. magic mushrooms, saffron, and eau de javel)

This mission, comrades, is of extreme importance. The world is a corrupt, bipolar cesspit with threats of nuclear bombs and nasty policemen. OUR AIM IS TO STOP THIS, and to go back to the way it was in the sixties.

2nd NB- The field will be provided. Our dead-people team is working on the Return of messiahs such as Janis Joplin, John Lennon, Jimi Hendrix etc etc ad nauseam.

So on with the party! (because everyone knows that parties are all people did in the sixties. They didn't eat or anything. They just had parties. In fields.) It was SO cool.

Poetry poetry

2010-01-25T23:00:00.004+01:00

[OEUVRE DE POESIE A CHANTER A LA MANIERE DES TROUBADOURS COMME PAR EXEMPLE BERTRAN DE BORN OU LE JOKER DE BATMAN]

Je suis un être de fantaisie.
Je fume des clopes aux cherrys.
Je suis hyper rebelle,
Et super trop belle
Mon prénom c'est Fidèl.

(En vérité mon petit coco,
Je m'appelle pas comme le grand Gastro,
C'est plutôt Jeannette mon prénom,
Mais ça faisait vraiment trop trop con)

Je suis communiste,
J'ai même fait une liste,
De tous les fachos de la terre,
Qu'ils crèvent tous en enfer,
Parce que mes sentiments sont sincères.

(Je pense vraiment mon ami,
Que la tolérance est bénie,
Meme si "benie" c'est un mot vilain,
Parce que c'est facho et chrétien)

J'écris ce poème,
Pour dire je suis bohème,
Je ne me lave pas,
En l'honneur de Chez Goyava,
..........................................

(Au dessus, là, mon cher,
Oui, le tout dernier vers-
Ce n'est vraiment pas une erreur,
C'est un concept à part entieure)

Fidèle Fidel. xoxo jtd jtd jtd

Very Serious Teenage Anarchists

2010-01-20T23:46:00.005+01:00

NI DIEU NI MAITRE.

(Yah, yah, yah - yap yap yap.)

1. Quick lesson of teenage anarchism for the stupid
Anarchism is a very serious trend that started when the greeks decided to go off women. Ever since, it has been hated, feared, despised, assimilated to Communism and revered by people all over the world. The most wonderful thing about Anarchism is that it seems so completely synonymous with freedom. The second most wonderful thing about it is that it suits everyone. Just think! It is the one garment that will suit Mangaistas, Philosophists (although they do tend to prefer Nietzsche- as do the Goths) Lost Artists and anyone else! It does make the Lost Artists look particularly attractive though.. the I don't care-ness of Anarchism goes very well with the Ray Bans and droopy hair. But remember- Anarchism is SERIOUS. Very serious.

2. Recap- from trend to politics
The importance of being en-ga-gé is unquestionable. This is why teenage anarchists are so very loud about being anarchists. You can't be quiet AND an anarchist. It just doesn't work, y'know. So you pick a few famous phrases and you scream them a lot. It looks good, sounds good and makes your sex-appeal soar.
suggestions for the apprenti-anar :
"God is dead" always a great success with the jews, christians, muslims and those other ones whose name we don't know.
"Ni Dieu ni maitre" excellent for making people who don't care go "tut" and shake their heads.
"In the fight between you and the world, back the world" extra bonus points for this one- it denotes a certain Rock Savvyness- always useful.

3. Being taken seriously when one is an Anarchist
Ahhhm... difficult one here. The only thing that springs to mind is this small piece of ancestral wisdom passed down through the generations on my dog's side of the family:
"Get used to being a very small Yorkshire Terrier Puppy trying to wake up a dead elephant. And stop yapping. It's boring."

Gothism or the misery of being

2010-01-20T12:52:00.002+01:00

I am a GOTH. This means that I wear a lot of black and wish to die. Depression is a good friend of mine- it makes my life mean something. My favourite clothes are made of lace, and my hobbies include pretending to be dead, updating my blog and taking pictures of things that look as if they might possibly have blood on them.
I am a creature of the night- I strike fear into the hearts of God fearing people, because I worship in Satan's Temple and enjoy licking knives. I do lots of drugs, too. I find that they help me mourn my lost youth and the emptiness of my misunderstood existence.That and it makes people worry and think I do actually have real mental disorders, and not just imaginary ones (My clique does not accept phonies- we are known as the GGAODAD*)
Yours in decrepitude, farewell. I am now going to put red ink all over the bathroom. It'll really annoy my parents AND create a very interesting metaphysical image of suicide and terror. I AM A BAT.

* the Genuine Goths Association Of Death And Despair

Bigots versus B. Gott the Feminist

2010-01-20T01:53:00.005+01:00

Being a feminist, I take a very active interest in the freedom of females. It appears obvious to me that there is no freedom for We Women- the Ever Opressed Sex. Let us set this straight.

1.The Fairer Sex
WHY are we called this??? It is insulting, phallocratic, demeaning and impudent. How dare anyone suggest We Women are in any way attractive? Don't give in, sisters! Be as ugly as you can possibly imagine! Repulse yourself! Shudder every time you look in a mirror! Remember, though, that it is for A Good Cause. NOT ONLY will you be ignoring real issues such as lapidation, mutilation etc etc (although we do have lots and lots of compassion for our poor burkha wearing sisters, don't we) AND making yourselves depressed, BUT ALSO really, really annoying The Phallocrats who won't say rude things such as "you look nice today" or "Hello Beautiful" to us any more.

Because we are STRONG, INDEPENDANT AND AWARE, and we don't use phallocratic criteria to direct the way we live.

2. ELLE, BIBA, GLAMOUR and the other SHITS
How dare they? How DARE they???? Magazines made by women, for women?? WHATEVER next I ASK YOU!!! These Satan-Papers-Of-Evil are the very PROOF of what I fight night and day - The Phallocratic Plot Of Enslavement. For indeed, sisters, it is a Plot to take away your FREEDOM! Burn ELLE! Burn BIBA! Burn GLAMOUR! Burn them ALL!

And read my newsletter instead. It will give you the correct and only Real way to be a Feminist and Woman today.

3. Children
Children are a womans' concern, and a womans' alone. The Phallocrats are always shouting out their ARCHAIC views about Maternity, but the Truth of the matter, sisters, is that they don't know the first thing about it! I would have perfectly Feminist children, had I ever reproduced.

ideal reads for ideal children:

How to kill a Man (B. Gott)
Watching the Phallocrats (B. Gott)
What's a "Daddy"? (B. Gott)
Women are God, Men don't exist any more (B. Gott)
When Wonder-Woman meets Sperm-Bank, the miracle of birth (B. Gott)

4. Differently abled Women (that is to say- with severe handicaps- useless)
There are two sorts of Differently Abled Women, sisters:

The Poor Oppressed Sex-worker
The Common Whore

CASE STUDY-

The Poor Oppressed Sex-worker: Not much more to say, really.. Oh dear. Too bad, Boo hoo etc etc. The REAL VICTIMS are the COMMON WHORES
The Common Whore: Having given in to the Evil Phallocrats, these disgusting creatures (who are not part of The Sisterhood, sisters) now cover themselves with ridicule by, for instance, wearing clothes that they like and feel attractive and confident in. They think, poor deluded souls, that it is to please themselves that they mutilate themselves in such a manner... but let me tell you the Truth - IN FACT, it is only because they are PESTILENTIAL SEX-STARVED MORONS who are COMPLETELY ENSLAVED BY THE PHALLOCRATS.

We must save them, sisters- next time you see one of these Pathetic Unfortunates in the street, pelt her with eggs and string her up. BE A FEMINIST, BE FREE!

signed B. Gott

Drinking Fountain Water Out Of A Champagne Bottle In A Bookshop

2010-01-19T17:43:00.004+01:00

"Tu saiiis, c't'endroit eh ben il a trop de l'atmospheeeere" she said as she flounced in. There was "atmosphèeeeere" before she came in and told everyone so. Yes, there are a lot of books in here- It. Is. A. Bookshop. Yes, everyone has noticed the bottle you are waving around. Champagne- very daring, well done. Too bad it's not cool to be drunk at half past four in the afternoon. Look- even your little friend agrees. Did you buy your individuality in the same shop as your coat?

Philosophists

2010-01-18T23:55:00.003+01:00

What is life? What is death? What is man? What is dog? What do things mean? Why do they mean?

Philosophists have the answer to those questions, and all the long words to answer them with. They know about Things, and often reflect upon the greatness of being. Yes, it is hard to cope with being so very informed, but as Descartes said in his masterpiece The Unbearable Lightness of Leviticus, "tassimo ergo sumo". It's hard to keep going when one is fifteen and one KNOWS that the world is crap. But one couldn't afford the cyanide, and it's much more interesting to bore on about Being when one Is. Anyway.

Mangaistas

2010-01-18T23:44:00.002+01:00

Ever read Fruits-Basket? So did I. And so I shouldn't have. Ever since, I have had to control strange urges to dress in be-ribboned plastic while winking and saying things like "kawaiiii". I don't even know what "kawaiii" means. I just know that I also want big hair, bigger eyes, stupidly long legs, and to wear an apron in all circumstances. A plastic apron. Preferably with a heart shaped pocket on the left breast.
My greatest dream is to be japanese, and to look exactly like all the beautiful manga-people.

I have written a haiku. May I share it with you? Sod it, I will anyway.

It's very deep.
It's like a lake.
Pink and winking.

My friends (who all have a deeply original and personal style as well) and I sit in circles and share haikus. We reenact mythical manga-battles as well. Wearing micro-kimonos.

Signed Sakura. I don't know what that means either, but it's very deep.

Lost Artists

2010-01-18T23:02:00.007+01:00

1. LOST ARTISTS AND FASHION
First things first- the Lost Artist has no interest in fashion. Too base and inconsequential for their creative beings. Instead, they take great care to look exactly like every single other Lost Artist they know. This is in order to create their own unique style and blast apart all pathetic clichéed prejudices anyone might have about them.
How to recognise someone dressed like a Lost Artist: The hair is generally on the longish side, for boys and for girls. They wear whatever happens to be on Alexa Chung this season. If that doesn't help- think "boho, rock and I really don't care what you think because this is Me but look at the price-tag anyway please". Additional features include tapes on chains, unnecessary sunglasses and Marlboros. A guitar is generally a safe bet, too.

2. LOST ARTISTS AND SOCIAL INTERACTIONS
Lost Artists have friends- unbelievable, perhaps, but true nevertheless. These friends are usually dressed in a similar but less adventurous way as the Lost Artist, and are never quite as profound.
Then of course there are the groupies. Groupies are more often seen with male Lost Artists with guitars. As all the obvious songs are crooned outside school, the groupies gather round and drool. The male Lost Artist may deign to have a romantic entanglement with a cow eyed groupie, but she (always a she) will inevitably be there to look pretty and shut up. This might explain why the groupies take such great pains to look exactly like the female arch-Lost Artists. To attract a profound male Lost Artist, one must look vaguely acceptable. Although Lost Artists don't care what anyone thinks of them, being involved in any way with a non Lost Artist-Facsimile could prove fatal for their reputation.

3. LOST ARTISTS AND ART
Ah... Art. Art with a big A and sometimes even a capital RT. Lost Artists know all about Art. They pretend to be open to all points of view, but in Real Life (which they know all about as well), Art is just lots and lots of pictures of people pretending to be depressed. In black and white. Because les gens heureux n'ont pas d'histoire, but miserable thirteen year olds with a lot of black make-up do.

My advice concerning my favourite animals - Don't try talking to them. They know more than you about everything. And whatever you do, do NOT try to understand them. It might just kill their equilibrum.