On the Derisive Thread (Episode 1)
Dear members of this forum,
*With the pandemic, travel guides were replaced by cookbooks. With lockdown, there’s no need for the *Guía del Trotamundos*—the cookbook is gospel, and your daily life turns into a *Spaghetti Western*. It’s no longer about good and bad actors but good and bad fats. And for a few extra pinches of salt. To the tune of Ennio Morricone, it’s hard to diagnose pastalogy—sorry, the pathology—you’re suffering from. Italy, now confined, and pasta—no more aimless gondola rides on Venice’s canals or *Dolce Vita* weekends in Rome. The beauty of the soul blends with minestrone preparation.
*With the pandemic, Professor Didier Raoult became the new Christ-like figure; like the Indira Gandhi of medicine, like Moses showing the way to the people across the Dead Sea, for tormented souls, the value of a medical prescription doesn’t wait for the years to pass. And plexiglass reigned over the world.
*With the pandemic and gender theory, in particular, pushing us to become androgynous, hermaphroditic beings—*patatras*—the Colossi of Rhodes we are waver because of a tiny nuisance.
*Phew, the pandemic has receded... but watch out for a new swine flu pandemic, because on this forum, it’ll be followed by long-winded rants. Political/historical revisionism with such a pandemic—Fidel Castro wouldn’t have been able to invade the *Bahía de los Cochinos*. And that’s where his comrade Ernesto *Che* Guevara becomes a perfect scam. A fierce opponent of capitalist ideology, yet many clothing sellers got rich selling T-shirts with his face on them.
*Neutrality and the Helvetic underground. Last summer, I found myself passing the *Chalet Gaillard* deep in the *Forêt du Risoux* in the Jura, then crossing the border into the Canton of Vaud on foot. My disappointment was great: no sign indicating we were in neutral territory. And what kind of neutrality are we talking about? Since neutrality is an abstract concept. It’s like those visitors eager to see Calais who, spotting the sign for the *Pas-de-Calais* department, turn around on the road.
*There’s always a traveler quick to recommend a local guide. I know an excellent guide named Michel who lives in Cairo—Michel of Cairo. He has a truck and takes you to see the pharaoh’s ruins by truck. Still, be careful—good guides aren’t that common, because there are only eight Cairenes.
*The mix between large mammals and humans. Or how infantilism rules the world. The ultimate quest for happiness is petting rhinos in Nepal—we’ll confirm if this kind of animal is visible on the streets of Sauraha, a town near Chitwan National Park. The downside of this animal? It takes up too much space as a pet—better to raise a Yorkshire terrier in your modest apartment.
*I’m tired of recurring topics like, *‘Do I have time for my connection at New York airport?’* Aren’t you? There’s the discussion about *Gare de Lyon Part-Dieu*—*Gare de Lyon Part-Dieu*, God bless you. In the name of the Father, the taxman, and the Holy Spirit, don’t miss your connection. *Gare de Lyon-Part-Dieu*—apparently, a great French actor, Gérard de Part-Dieu, was born there. If you think you’ll miss your connection, just get rich and fly private. The working masses of the *lumpenproletariat*—they dare everything, that’s how you recognize them.
*Experts in non-events: learning that some members don’t like Spanish-speaking countries because, supposedly, the people are too loud. That’s it, I’m not going to China anymore—too many stairs on the Great Wall. So, too bad, I’m not going. It’s like two people crossing paths—one asks, *‘Going fishing?’* and the other says no. These experts are probably natives of Arles, because with people like that, it’s *l’Arlésienne*...
*The art of taking selfies at every turn. You’d think it’s an ancient practice, almost an anthropological ritual—everything suggests it dates back to prehistoric times. Back in the days of the Lascaux caves, instead of photographing the meal they were about to eat (it’s crazy how many food photos we see on this forum, especially in travel journals), prehistoric men and women could only make cave paintings. From there, it’s only a small step to conclude that cave art was nothing more than the menu served in caves that doubled as *Buffalo Grills* long before the chain existed. By the way, if you want to visit the caves, ask for a guide named Josiane. When it comes to parietal art skills, Josiane beats Lascaux... (Only the French on this forum will get that one.)
*Mythology of an object: the suitcase (a nod to Mr. Éric Libiot, whose columns I enjoy) An object that gets lost during a flight, especially during a transfer at an airport. And it’s stuffed to the brim with clothes and other useless items, like Mickey Mouse slippers. You’re in despair: when going through customs, the officers find those slightly risqué photos hidden in your laundry, taken at Cap d’Agde on a naturist beach. The suitcase is an object that makes noise when rolling because of its wheels—you’re quickly spotted.
*Hurry up and visit New York while you still can. Because of *Woke* ideology, more and more statues are being torn down, and the Statue of Liberty will likely meet the same fate. *Queer* culture isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.
*The Dead Poets Society I admired the beautiful photos of Venice, and *click*—I check the new discussions when I come across one where Mr. J.M.B. offers money loans. This person probably works at the Ministry of Finance and risks loosening the purse strings of your wallets.
*Toward the independence of New Caledonia: will we call it *Nouvelle Nouvelle-Calédonie*? From what I know, Chinese authorities want to settle there and invest; apparently, they want to send (fake) tourists—facsimiles of real travelers. So, it’ll be hard to separate the wheat from the chaff (the *ivraie* tourists).
*There’s a topic about hitchhiking in Scotland: apparently, Scots are very welcoming people. I imagine arriving at Aberdeen Airport to a typical welcoming committee—men in kilts and a bagpiper playing. Just like arriving in Papeete, where you’re greeted with flower leis—*Aloha! (Jacta Est)*. To attract tourists, Scottish cities will end up installing whisky vending machines.
*Eskimo pies banned for sale because of *cancel culture*—you can’t go to Iqaluit anymore. Panicked, ice cream manufacturers had to revise their *packaging*—sorry for the anglicism. Because of *cancel culture*, we can no longer say *Eskimo* without it being pejorative. The identity of the Arctic people of the same name takes a hit—it’s crazy how *bien-pensance* wreaks havoc in our minds... We can’t even bite into a chocolate *Eskimo* pie anymore.
*Diplomatic tensions between France and Australia: and there goes the submarine sale project, canceled. Given that the cost of these machines is a fifth of Australia’s public finances budget, it’s tough to pay in didgeridoos and kangaroo skins.
Thanks for reading, and see you soon for more chronicles.
*With the pandemic, travel guides were replaced by cookbooks. With lockdown, there’s no need for the *Guía del Trotamundos*—the cookbook is gospel, and your daily life turns into a *Spaghetti Western*. It’s no longer about good and bad actors but good and bad fats. And for a few extra pinches of salt. To the tune of Ennio Morricone, it’s hard to diagnose pastalogy—sorry, the pathology—you’re suffering from. Italy, now confined, and pasta—no more aimless gondola rides on Venice’s canals or *Dolce Vita* weekends in Rome. The beauty of the soul blends with minestrone preparation.
*With the pandemic, Professor Didier Raoult became the new Christ-like figure; like the Indira Gandhi of medicine, like Moses showing the way to the people across the Dead Sea, for tormented souls, the value of a medical prescription doesn’t wait for the years to pass. And plexiglass reigned over the world.
*With the pandemic and gender theory, in particular, pushing us to become androgynous, hermaphroditic beings—*patatras*—the Colossi of Rhodes we are waver because of a tiny nuisance.
*Phew, the pandemic has receded... but watch out for a new swine flu pandemic, because on this forum, it’ll be followed by long-winded rants. Political/historical revisionism with such a pandemic—Fidel Castro wouldn’t have been able to invade the *Bahía de los Cochinos*. And that’s where his comrade Ernesto *Che* Guevara becomes a perfect scam. A fierce opponent of capitalist ideology, yet many clothing sellers got rich selling T-shirts with his face on them.
*Neutrality and the Helvetic underground. Last summer, I found myself passing the *Chalet Gaillard* deep in the *Forêt du Risoux* in the Jura, then crossing the border into the Canton of Vaud on foot. My disappointment was great: no sign indicating we were in neutral territory. And what kind of neutrality are we talking about? Since neutrality is an abstract concept. It’s like those visitors eager to see Calais who, spotting the sign for the *Pas-de-Calais* department, turn around on the road.
*There’s always a traveler quick to recommend a local guide. I know an excellent guide named Michel who lives in Cairo—Michel of Cairo. He has a truck and takes you to see the pharaoh’s ruins by truck. Still, be careful—good guides aren’t that common, because there are only eight Cairenes.
*The mix between large mammals and humans. Or how infantilism rules the world. The ultimate quest for happiness is petting rhinos in Nepal—we’ll confirm if this kind of animal is visible on the streets of Sauraha, a town near Chitwan National Park. The downside of this animal? It takes up too much space as a pet—better to raise a Yorkshire terrier in your modest apartment.
*I’m tired of recurring topics like, *‘Do I have time for my connection at New York airport?’* Aren’t you? There’s the discussion about *Gare de Lyon Part-Dieu*—*Gare de Lyon Part-Dieu*, God bless you. In the name of the Father, the taxman, and the Holy Spirit, don’t miss your connection. *Gare de Lyon-Part-Dieu*—apparently, a great French actor, Gérard de Part-Dieu, was born there. If you think you’ll miss your connection, just get rich and fly private. The working masses of the *lumpenproletariat*—they dare everything, that’s how you recognize them.
*Experts in non-events: learning that some members don’t like Spanish-speaking countries because, supposedly, the people are too loud. That’s it, I’m not going to China anymore—too many stairs on the Great Wall. So, too bad, I’m not going. It’s like two people crossing paths—one asks, *‘Going fishing?’* and the other says no. These experts are probably natives of Arles, because with people like that, it’s *l’Arlésienne*...
*The art of taking selfies at every turn. You’d think it’s an ancient practice, almost an anthropological ritual—everything suggests it dates back to prehistoric times. Back in the days of the Lascaux caves, instead of photographing the meal they were about to eat (it’s crazy how many food photos we see on this forum, especially in travel journals), prehistoric men and women could only make cave paintings. From there, it’s only a small step to conclude that cave art was nothing more than the menu served in caves that doubled as *Buffalo Grills* long before the chain existed. By the way, if you want to visit the caves, ask for a guide named Josiane. When it comes to parietal art skills, Josiane beats Lascaux... (Only the French on this forum will get that one.)
*Mythology of an object: the suitcase (a nod to Mr. Éric Libiot, whose columns I enjoy) An object that gets lost during a flight, especially during a transfer at an airport. And it’s stuffed to the brim with clothes and other useless items, like Mickey Mouse slippers. You’re in despair: when going through customs, the officers find those slightly risqué photos hidden in your laundry, taken at Cap d’Agde on a naturist beach. The suitcase is an object that makes noise when rolling because of its wheels—you’re quickly spotted.
*Hurry up and visit New York while you still can. Because of *Woke* ideology, more and more statues are being torn down, and the Statue of Liberty will likely meet the same fate. *Queer* culture isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.
*The Dead Poets Society I admired the beautiful photos of Venice, and *click*—I check the new discussions when I come across one where Mr. J.M.B. offers money loans. This person probably works at the Ministry of Finance and risks loosening the purse strings of your wallets.
*Toward the independence of New Caledonia: will we call it *Nouvelle Nouvelle-Calédonie*? From what I know, Chinese authorities want to settle there and invest; apparently, they want to send (fake) tourists—facsimiles of real travelers. So, it’ll be hard to separate the wheat from the chaff (the *ivraie* tourists).
*There’s a topic about hitchhiking in Scotland: apparently, Scots are very welcoming people. I imagine arriving at Aberdeen Airport to a typical welcoming committee—men in kilts and a bagpiper playing. Just like arriving in Papeete, where you’re greeted with flower leis—*Aloha! (Jacta Est)*. To attract tourists, Scottish cities will end up installing whisky vending machines.
*Eskimo pies banned for sale because of *cancel culture*—you can’t go to Iqaluit anymore. Panicked, ice cream manufacturers had to revise their *packaging*—sorry for the anglicism. Because of *cancel culture*, we can no longer say *Eskimo* without it being pejorative. The identity of the Arctic people of the same name takes a hit—it’s crazy how *bien-pensance* wreaks havoc in our minds... We can’t even bite into a chocolate *Eskimo* pie anymore.
*Diplomatic tensions between France and Australia: and there goes the submarine sale project, canceled. Given that the cost of these machines is a fifth of Australia’s public finances budget, it’s tough to pay in didgeridoos and kangaroo skins.
Thanks for reading, and see you soon for more chronicles.