Ridicule

Yesterday was a waste of consciousness by most standards, but it was nice anyways. I got rid of the pain in my legs by spending some time at gym and by getting all snaked at - let's call him Gigi, since Lady does - at Gigi's home. There, we watched Ridicule, a film I hadn't seen for years and years. A very nice film to watch on a stoned and lazy Sunday. What bugs me about Ridicule, besides the disjointedness of the different storylines and the occasional narrative flatness that results, is the fact that some people of a certain social class who I spent time with in France still consider the useless Versailles aristocrats with their insulting yet predictable humour and parasitic lifestyles as a standard towards which they must struggle, despite a couple of revolutions and a whole whackload of republics. And then they get upset the rest of the world thinks they're hypocritical assholes. Hear that? It's the drip-drip-drop of my heart bleeding.

Oh, when will I get over this France thing? It puts me in the company of idiots. Why does France have to suck so bad I end up in concordance with people who hate it because of Fox News, Bill O'Reilly, and the really comfortable ass-print they've worn into their couch?

Fucking France.