Don't cry for me, pas de calais

Koo-koo-kachoo

2005-02-25T01:42:00.000-09:00

Koo-koo-kachew all you pas-de-calais-kateers out there. I'm quite pleased to announce that yours truly has been invited to join a very special club: (...and not the mile high club. my application was turned down again...) Due to several highly altruistic acts of selfless heroism, I'm receiving a career upgrade. I've just been promoted from ordinary run-of-the-mill 9 to 5 paper-pushing subhero to superhero. That's right...no more scrubbing toilets at the Palace of Justice for me. No more starching and pressing batman's cape, and definately no more slaving over a washbasin to remove the unseemly brown racing stripes from robin's bright day-glow undies. From now on, I'm travelling first class. Free booze, free news, and free tatoos. Koo-koo-kachoo!

Before I get about the business of saving the world, let's pause to reflect on the three tender acts of humanity that have earned me my newfound position. The first altruistic deed, and perhaps the one most likely to be immortalized in a made for tv movie, took place in Paris. Without gloating over the details, let's just say I rescued a poor Japanese tourist from almost certain death at the slow crippling hand of French beaurocracy. After a mere 1 hour of sleep, and fueled only by caffeine and a sense of humanity, I was able to help this poor guy obtain the paperwork required by visa to get his camera replaced. The other two acts are barely worth mentioning...stopping a pickpocketing and catching a falling senior citizen were just icing on the cake.

Here's the good part. While I already have my war cry and an arch-nemesis, the Walrus, (more on him later), I still need an official name and uniform. I'm open to suggestions. Until then... Koo-koo-kachoo!

ready with ready wit

2005-02-12T05:37:00.000-09:00

Not a lot going on, pas-de-calais-kateers. Sorry, once again for the extended leave. I've been, um, doing stuff. Valenciennes, nestled in a cozy corner of the l'Escaut river has turned into my home away from home. Scotland is great,but, ah, to be once again in Compton sur l'Escaut, with the putrid stench of a broken sewer main filling the air, and a small gaggle of crop-topped, track-pants-tucked-into-socks scooter gang boy-racers hustling for spare smokes and beer money in a crater that used to be "un parking". In Valenciennes ist immer etwas loss. Gin, juice, and girls.

peace out,

Jacob

friends, romans, countrymen

2004-12-31T13:16:00.000-09:00

Just a quick update...I know it's been a while, but as most of you know, I live in France which by all standards is a third world country. I feel like my best means of communicating with you, my loyal community who must be on the verge of suicide after 3 months silence, would be through either carrier pidgeon or notes in bottles. I've started training the pidgeons, but they're slow learners. They don't seem to understand anything other than pecking and shitting, so I doubt they'll represent a reliable means of communication anytime soon. My only recourse is to scribble my latest thoughts on scrap paper, stuff them inside old perrier bottles, and chuck them into the river. You should all be getting the last 3 months worth of journal entries any day now...just keep your eyes peeled.

Rugby infielders for truth

2004-09-10T03:46:00.000-08:00

Old habits die hard, eh Georgie boy? Tell me...have you ever fought fair and won anything in your life?

ass from sea to shining sea

2004-09-09T07:08:00.000-08:00

First of all, let me preface this by saying I'm not the most supple, graceful athlete on the pitch. Truth be told, my body seems to have morphed from Elvis Presley on the Ed Sullivan show to Elvis Presley "Hawaii Come Back" special all in just a couple of short chip and television filled years. (Damn those bastards...they know that once you pop, you can't stop yet they push their drug legally in every American gas station from Anchorage to Miami.) With this out in the open, I still have to make myself a quasi-hypocrite by making fun of this girl's boom-boom I saw at the gym today.

Damn.

I mean fucking piss-christ.

I think it wasn't only her body, but also how it was presented. She was wearing tight lycra work-out pants that looked like they were stretched to their breaking point and screaming for mercy. She had her monstrous boom-boom shoved into the brightest pair of pepto-bismol colored stretch leotards I think I've ever seen. And this is coming from someone who was a refugee of the late 80's hammer pants craze. (Don't laugh. I took shrapnel in that conflict....it was MY time in hell.) You could see every wrinkle and dimple in her ass...a half-blind cartographer could have charted and recorded every single curve and nuance from at least 10 meters. It looked like a can of biscuits had exploded in her pants. Even her stretch pants had stretch marks.

I have respect for anyone who goes to the gym, especially people who are like me and enjoy the finer things in life. And by finer things in life, I mean fried things. But the combination of a monstrous batty and bright pink stretch pants should always be avoided. It looked simultaneously disgusting and sweetly innocent, much like a picture of rainbow bright shitting out a unicorn.

I'll leave you with that visual.

Jacob

bipartisanship

2004-09-05T03:42:00.000-08:00

FUCK TEXAS.....FUCK COWBOYS....AND ESPECIALLY FUCK THE ALAMO....FUCK

There she is....miss America

2004-07-30T10:55:00.000-08:00

Smile like you mean it

2004-07-28T15:37:00.000-08:00

Listening to "the Killers", playing with my new camera. My smile is under construction.

people are robots too

2004-07-21T02:48:00.000-08:00

I've put up a new picture under my profile. I'm robo-sapien #2475BL-69-3001, the rugged, handsome brute on the left in Navy blue. In the red is my charming girl-friend, robo-sapien #2475LL-96-22.
I've got a built in variable-speed can-opener.

you are repressed but you're remarkably dressed

2004-07-19T03:09:00.000-08:00

Here I am in a London for my girlfriend's 24th birthday. They have Bento Boxes there that are worth every penny of the 15 quid price. You are seated with several other people at a table, which is usually quite nice, but we were placed with some roustabouts this particular time. The guy beside of me kept talking about how his ultimate dream was to move to Asia and live "off the sea" on some tiny island, eating only what he could catch. Two seconds later, he was banging on about how he can't go anywhere without his mobile, because it takes pictures and virgin allows him to text for 15p. I'm sure the life of a vietnamese peasant farmer allows little time or money for modern conveniences. You might get a text message and let dinner slip away.

The picture is a bit grainy, but everyone can see at least one recent pic until I get my digital camera. You can even see my David Beckham faux-hawk.

Yo' ass was the reason God made spandex

2004-07-13T02:57:00.000-08:00

Just wanted to give everyone (all three of you) an update (hi mom). I've gotten a picture put up, but it's a couple years old and taken on a shitty camera. I usually have two faces that make it to film...one is extremely pissed off and the other is high. When I'm not in the spotlight, my face seems to have a dizzying array of varied expressions, ranging from a "Who the hell are you?" grimace to an "Oh, brownies!" face. For some reason, I only have two in pictures. Really angry or stoned. I can blame the angry ones on my Prussian ancestory (my fondness for Kraut and my complete and utter sunlight intolerance as well.) I have no idea where the goofy ones come from...It's as if I suddenly lose control over my facial features as it distorts itself into the most insanely neurotic poses for it's own personal amusement. I chose one of the latter...Any of my King of Prussia picks would make me about as popular as Ronald McDonald in a vegan drum circle.

Have a chat function as well...I go there sometimes to be alone. I can sing off tune and hear it echo off the cyber walls back at me in 4 part harmony. Don't go in there now though...It's a bit untidy.

Should have a couple of new posts up soon, so stay tuned.

Usama bin forgotten

2004-06-27T07:49:00.000-08:00

We're all wearing the blue dress now.

Robots are people too...

2004-06-24T06:11:00.000-08:00

So far my day has been positively uneventful. I went to work-out and the treadmill kept stopping for no obvious reason. And why do we call it working OUT anyway...I was on an indoor machine with a 3 foot extension chord. Work-OUT? I never work-out. I always work-in. I'm surrounded by rows of televisions and two radio stations playing simultaneously. It's a multi-media coctail. Add to that the fact that some people now jog and talk on their mobile phones at the same time, and it looks like our slight dependency has become a giant digital sucubus. I'm guilty too. Like most Americans, I will drive the 2 miles to the gym and then jog 5. (in my defense, the clouds do look quite threatening today, and I've long established that any gods that still reign on Mt. Olympus don't look at me favorably...better not risk it.) It does help to drive home the point that we have almost made another giant leap in evolution...With our increasing dependence on technology, we are making the leap from homo-sapiens to robo-sapiens.

I definately see the downside...I have relatives that will spend 10 minutes trying to get their electric can openers to work when the simple twist version works just fine. Kerchunk! crank, crank, crank...Tuna. Never fails. I know people who run the a.c. and sleep under blankets. Our general philosophy seems to be that any machine, no matter how cumbersome and counter-productive it might be, is a relfection on its masters prowess. (And if said master manages to make it to retirement with 10 fingers, then that's just gravy!) When people drive, the distinction between the personality of the driver and the car is often blurred to the point that they are one entity. At least that's the justification I use when I flip-off everyone I see driving a hummer...as if one is needed.

But bring on the robo-age, I say. I WANT to have a jet-pack installed. With x-ray vision! And a ray-gun! (Damn the pidgeons, full steam ahead!) I want to be able to slice, dice, and julien in the buff! And most importantly, I want to be able to call in sick because I've slipped in the shower and my hard-drive crashed! No more dodgy knees, trick shoulders, iffy ankles, or sketchy vision. And just think about what it could do to your sexual prowess. (I've just upgraded to bootyshack 3.0 baby...how's about coming back to my place? I'm built by Bill Gates, but I'm not micro, and I'm not soft...) Of course on the downside, all of us might come out sounding like Stephen Hawking. That's really the only thing that could make Celine Dion even more annoying.

Damn it all, I say! Bring on the machines. Bring on the robo-sapiens. After all...robots are people too. Good-bye flesh and blood, hello rapture!

fiscal fondue

2004-06-23T03:16:00.000-08:00

This post is a bit political and decidedly unsexy. I'm feeling a bit grumpy. GOP card carriers should probably back out now and say 10 hail marry's whilst watching Sean Hannity give Jesus, Mary, and Joseph a swedish deap tissue massage...with a happy ending. And if John Ashcroft is watching...bite me you fundamentalist fruitcake. And take the curtains off from around Lady Justice's nichons. It just makes you look silly, mate.

Clinton-mania has landed. I'm a bit to the left of Clinton, so I didn't agree with everything he did, but he is the only president in my lifetime to use any kind of fiscal restraint. He was helping to reverse that horrible baby boomer trend started by Reagan and continued with the Shrub that says it is ok to run a monstrous national debt at the expense of younger Americans. These huge deficits will come back and cripple our economy in 15 to 20 years if we don't work for logical taxation that puts a heavier burden on the rich. Right now, the bulk of American taxes come from the middle-classes, while over 2/3rds of American multi-billion dollar corporations pay absolutely nothing. Everyone who is young needs to vote for someone who is going to pay for their own debts and not push them off on us...Which is exactly why they've been able to push their debts on us. Young people don't vote...death to the baby-boomers, I say!

I wonder if it's too late to give FDR some mouth-to-mouth and have hime run for a fourth term. If nothing else, Ken Starr could investigate the inappropriate fondling of the president who created the American middle-class and won WW2. Heiha Hossa und Dreimal hoch für FDR! A wink and a nod to Clinton. A pink slip for King W. of Arabia.

Hasta la happenstance

2004-06-21T23:42:00.000-08:00

It seems that the past and future french language assistants form a fairly tight knit community here on the web. Just an offer to anyone in the NC/SC area...some of us are going to try to get together a couple of times before we leave. I know people who will be in the Lille area (me) as well as a couple of friends who will be posted in Lyon (lucky bastard) and Limoges. Actually, I'm looking forward to being in a different corner of the hexagon. The first time I went to France, I studied in Dijon. Other than the food, the city doesn't offer much in the way of youth culture. For music fans, there were really only 2 options...there was a Kareoke bar where every French idol wanna be jammed out on Bridgette Bardot show-stoppers. I think I joined the anglo-crowd once or twice in a sloppy, drunken balls-to-the-wall rendition of "I will survive." It's all gravy to me, anyway.

The second option involved a death metal band from somewhere in Belgium. Usually, music is a response to current cultural trends. Os Mutantes was political music railing against the right wingers in 1960's Brazil. The Vietnamese war spawned its fair share of sloppy, stoner ballads. Joy Division came from a hopelessy dreary dole-line existance in Manchester. What the hell is going on in Belgium that could make these guys so angry? They always looked so pissed off in their posters...I mean, these guys could make Rob Zombie look like the Olsen twins. They could rival Martha Stewart in raw negative energy. The looks on their faces just zapped my zen.

Lille actually has quite a bit more to offer musically, or so I'm told. The last concert I saw here was Death Cab for Cutie and Pedro the Lion. Death Cab was amazing. I'm hoping to catch at least one French band play...right now I'm hoping for an Indochine tour or something. So Viva musik, viva youth culture, and viva la Francia.

take your protein pills and put your knickers on

2004-06-21T00:37:00.000-08:00

Ok...Hope the sight looks easy on the eyes. It was either a choice between the retro dots or the o' so soothing seeweed green. (or possibly, baby-shit green...depends on your dispostion.) The black looked top-form as well, but that's just so 1981 Manchester.

This is where I should introduce myself. NC geezah, gearing up to teach English in Valenciennes, a town 30 minutes away from Lille in the North of France. It will be my second time in france, and I'm practically bubbling over with optimism and anticipation. It's quite rare actually...I'm not much of a bubbler.

I'll leave it at that for now...

Jacob