Democracy seems to have the hiccups

A few days ago, the former Ecology candidate Jill Stein claimed that votes should be recounted in three states: Pennsylvania, Wisconsin and Michigan. To obtain the necessary funds, she awaits the outcome of a national subscription appeal.

Far away, in the UK, former PMs Tony Blair and John Major are looking into the possibility of a second Brexit referendum, which is still vaguely thinkable.

Are such projects a mere expression of wishful thinking ? Or is the possibility of life after democratic death a real possibility?

Who’ll be the major icon of 20th-century "socialistas" revolutionaries?

 [photo d’Alberto Korda]

[photo Prensa Latina / Reuters]

New verb in a French website : “binge watcher”

If I understand correctly the title, there are three good reasons why you should binge-watch the Netflix series of the Gilmore Girls. I hope you understand what I’ve just said. Now, I’ll make an effort to teach you the pronunciation of the French verb “binge watcher”.

• binge is pronounced like barn-jeuh

• watcher is pronounced like wot-chay

The only information you’ll have to discover for yourselves is the actual meaning of this exotic French verb.

Serious examination of the English slang “binge”

The word “binge” (rhyming with “hinge”) probably comes from a 19th-century Lincolnshire dialect term meaning “to soak”. Example: Water that splashed onto the table was binged by means of a sponge. A heavy drinker might be thought of as soaking up alcohol. So, she/he might be described as a binge drinker. More recently, instead of being applied to alcohol consumption, the slang term “binge” has been applied to watching videos of a soap-opera variety. In other words, the verb “binge” now designates excessive indulgence in anything whatsoever. And last but not least: It has acquired linguistic honors by being moved into French, as if it were an ordinary verb of the category ending in -er, like "donner".

Alpha Jetman – Human Flight And Beyond

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Extraordinary video. The Patrol of France and the three Jetmen—Yves Rossy, Vincent Reffet and Fred Fugen–fly together in an amazing aerial choreography.

Nice survival

Today, in the USA, is known as Black Friday. But I see that the Big Red Fellow is still alive and kicking. The dumb bastard is fitter than I'd imagined. But his time in office won't necessarily last long. I hope he's enjoying his existence, be it short or long.

I wish him all that jumps into the minds of good American Christians: health, wealth and prosperity. As for the rest, I have nothing to say.

Colors

Geneviève Delaisi de Parseval, a French psychanalyst, has written an amusing article (here) on the curious role of distinctive colors in certain political contexts. For example, the abominable American Donald Trump seems to be linked to red, whereas our gentle Frenchman François Fillon is often accompanied by blue. Are such associations (if indeed they are true) purely arbitrary? Or do they convey some kind of hidden meaning?

Bearing the unbearable

The verb “to bear” involves a minimum of understanding and acceptance. If a happening that concerns us is so removed from our normal existence that we cannot understand it, let along accept it, then it might be said that are faced with an absurd challenge: that of bearing the unbearable. In such circumstances, something has to break… often in the mind of the victim.

The common cause of this nasty situation is death. Animals—human animals in particular—have never understood death, and never will... particularly when it hits loved ones: a husband, a wife, a close and intimate friend, parents or, above all, innocent children. In such cases, the mind “explodes”, as it were.

In former times, individuals who were suffering from an unbearable happening might have sought comfort in religion or traditional social circles. Even the danse macabre was, in a way, a “solution” for bearing the unbearable.

But remedies of that kind have disappeared to a large extent. These days, strangely enough, the Internet can become an outlet for such an explosion of the mind. It serves as a hitherto unknown means of naming the unnameable.

How did giraffes come to have long necks?

I’m always thrilled whenever I rediscover by chance a typical Richard Dawkins gem like this one.

A nice old-fashioned answer is that God, knowing that He had cunningly placed the most tasty leaves at the top of tall trees, designed giraffes with extra long necks so that they would have no trouble in reaching this good food.

A less religious answer is that, over a certain period of time, Nature caused the necks of giraffes to grow longer and longer, because Nature was smart enough to realize that hungry giraffes would be needing bigger necks to attain leaves that were moving higher and higher.

Well, that god-free answer is closer to the truth, but we still need to improve the wording. We merely have to introduce a pair of freak events. So, let’s go. At a certain point in time, most giraffes had medium-sized necks, whereas a minority of freaky giraffes were born with slightly longer necks. At about the same time, during a few freak seasons, leaves happened to grow so high that all normal giraffes with shorter necks couldn’t reach them. These poor animals gradually died of starvation. Only the freaky longer-necked giraffes survived and bred children who, like their parents, had long necks. Longer necks had started out as just a random happening… but they soon became a matter of life or death.

Homeopathy is rubbish

No matter what science says, modern societies (including France and England) will always include a sufficient number of uneducated folk, fools and princes in order to believe that homeopathy is credible. And they keep this industry going by spending much money on quackery.

I was thrilled to learn this morning that efforts to fight homeopathy in the UK, headed by the Richard Dawkins Foundation [here] and the Center for Inquiry [here], appear to be bearing fruit.

City of Mosul is totally encircled

Iraqi soldiers hold a Daesh flag captured in Mosul

Islamic jihadists in Mosul—estimated at between 3,000 and 5,000—are now totally encircled by Iraqi forces, who cut the last Daesh link with Syria. Iraqi troops now control 40% of the eastern sector of the city of Mosul. The end of Daesh at Mosul is near.

My childhood newspaper amuses me

If I drop in periodically on The Daily Examiner in Grafton, it's merely on the off chance of coming across an item that's less boring than usual. Like today. The driver of a giant truck, carrying a load of authentic shit, hit the brakes... and his cargo, as they say in the classics, promptly "hit the fan". This story made me split my sides laughing.

Click to enlarge slightly

Marvelous photo. I have the impression that the fellow on the left is praying for divine help. Police asked the driver why it hadn't occurred to him that it might be a good idea to cover up his load with a batch. I can imagine his likely reaction: "A truck driver never thinks of taking precautions on such a short trip. And then suddenly, shit happens." Here's another photo, with different colors:

Final thought. [Australian readers will say, once again, that I'm knocking my native land... and that's perfectly true, because it's really a most knockable country.] I'm intrigued by the fact that Aussie journalism is so shitty, these days, that the editing staff didn't appear to realize that the technical specifications of the above photos are so different. Don't the editorial staff have access to run-of-the-mill photo-editing software that could have corrected those two images in such a way that they look at least as if it's the same truck in the same place on the same day?

Drop a ping-pong ball in the clown’s mouth

I've always looked upon Nigel Farage as an English amusement.

He reminds me of rows of fair-ground clowns that amused me greatly as a child in Australia. The heads swivelled constantly to the left and the right, and the trick consisted of guessing the exact moment to drop your ping-pong ball down the clown's throat, so that it ended up falling into the right spot and winning something.

Today, I don't think the prize would justify my efforts.
On the other hand, the ping-pong ball might shut up Farage.

Day without electricity

It's the first time I ever recall a total day at Gamone without electricity. The power went off this morning at 8 o'clock, and it didn't come back on until about 18h30. The outage was caused by strong winds in the valley, which are still blowing. Today, it's really weird to experience a whole day without electricity. It's like being thrown back into the Dark Ages. Even a simple operation such as opening the fridge to grab something to eat has to be calculated carefully, to avoid the entry of heat. An hour ago, I even took my dog Fitzroy out into the dark, so that he would enter his kennel for the night. Otherwise, I wasn't sure there would be enough light, later on, to find the path to the kennel.

Truly, in rural France, we have become innocent Children of Light.

Probably the next president of France

                                      [photo Albert Facelly pour Libération]

I can't see how François Fillon could possibly be beaten in the presidential course. His lead is enormous. From this point on, a new problem arises on the horizon. We must make sure that the extreme right-wing party, the Front National, sinks rapidly into oblivion.

Last of the Frères Jacques

When I met up with my future wife in Paris, our most adorable friends were Paul Faye and his wife Lulu, who lived in the Rue Servandoni. One of their close friends was Paul Tourenne, who was a member of the Frères Jacques group of music-hall artists. I often met up with him, and Christine and I were invited to their concert. Paul became very interested in photography, and I believe he went to live with his son Robin Tourenne in Montréal. I’m saddened to learn that Paul Tourenne, 93, has just disappeared from the scene.

Paul Tourenne is wearing light-gray.

Relativity centenary

Albert Einstein’s theory of general relativity was first published a hundred years ago, during the week of November 18-25, 1915.

It remains such a colossal achievement of intellectual imagination that few people come to grips with it. The other day, on French television, a journalist suggested that an expert in science might tell us whether he preferred the photo of Einstein poking his tongue out. To my mind, that’s a little like asking Lincoln’s widow what she thought of the play Our American Cousin, or suggesting that the Creator might talk about his recreational activities on the seventh day.

The Road Not Taken

I’ve been admiring a discussion about contingency between Elisa New and Richard Dawkins. They were inspired by the famous poem by Robert Frost: The Road Not Taken.

To see the video interview, click here.

Female curves make the world go round

The world has been fascinated by the curves of Marilyn Monroe for decades. Click here to access a website with a video about the 17 November sale in Los Angeles of Marilyn’s skin-tight dress for 4.5 million euros.

Meanwhile, in France, another famous item of female wear entered a Paris costume museum. I’m talking of the outfit worn by the ecology politician Cécile Duflot.

In July 2012, Madame Duflot caused a stir among male dinosaurs when she appeared in the French parliament wearing this delightful dress.

And she hadn’t even started to sing a birthday song for our president François Hollande.

Ignorance has always upset me

Ignorance reminds me of Christianity's meekness and mildness, and their ridiculous business about turning the other cheek. There's also that stupid idea about industrial wealth transforming good citizens into camels who can no longer stroll through the eye of a needle.

The more I think about it, the more I reckon that Jesus was a pretty ignorant sort of a young man. His Jewish father should have sent his son to a good college... and let him grow up with smart young women.

Serious youthful Catholic, likes cars

#FillonPresident #Fillon2017

He’s a good-looking provincial fellow with a time-honored old French given name : François. He’s also a little “vieille France” (old France). It’s not hard to understand why the French—totally shocked by Islamic terrorists and Trump, fed up by Sarko and Copé, slightly irritated by the self-esteem of the older Juppé—find that Fillon is surely a simple man of qualities. That's what we need today : simplicity and human qualities.

photo Jean-Sébastien Evrard  / AFP