Question that no longer concerns me

Prostate gland. Do you see where it is, just between the bladder and the penis? Where it was, as far as I'm concerned. I lost mine a few years ago. An excellent surgeon removed it. He even left me with a perfectly operational nerve that enables me, for what it's worth, to sport an erection like a donkey. (Well, not quite. I was never—not even at the summit of my sporting career—in the donkey category.)

Click here to access an article, in a distinguished medical publication, suggesting that my above-mentioned brilliant surgeon should not necessarily be praised for having saved my life. Be that as it may, I'm still alive. That's all that really matters.

Abbott tells Europeans how to run the world

The Sydney Morning Herald tells us that former PM Tony Abbott addressed an Alliance of European Conservatives and Reformists in Prague on Saturday night. If you want to see everything he said, don’t hesitate to click here. Otherwise, I can give you the gist of his words, which didn’t impress me greatly… to say the least. He expressed his opinions concerning Europe's treatment of unwanted immigration… as if all European nations were looking upon this phenomenon in the same way. He said that it looked like “a peaceful invasion”. I wonder what Abbott really suggests by his juxtaposition of those two unrelated terms. It's murky Down Under English, along the lines of his rough-and-ready "Look, I'm going to shirtfront Mr Putin ... you bet I am."

France is happy to have earned a lot of cash by selling submarines to Australia. We’re grateful for that business, of course. And we don’t expect Australia to be more generous towards France by telling us (or any other European nation) how to handle the delicate and difficult problem of out-of-hand immigration. If France wanted to put a brutal end to such immigrants, Tony Abbott surely knows that the French navy could use one of our submarines. So, why doesn't he simply shut up?

Names and photos of 238 victims of terrorism in France since “Charlie”

Click here to access a block of 238 photos, in alphabetical surname order, with links to brief descriptions of victims of terrorism in France since the massacre at the Charlie offices in Paris on January 7, 2015.

Beautiful song by Francis Cabrel

Click YouTube for a full-screen version

Francis Cabrel was the object this evening of a wonderful documentary on French TV. It's amusing to discover the extent to which this intelligent and sympathetic fellow exists far away from the usual throng of media and music-hall people. He seems to be totally devoid of "skills" enabling him to become a selfish arsehole imbued by his talents and popularity. He remains as pure (and shy) as on the first day he ever sang in front of an audience. So, those beautiful kids who are accompanying Cabrel in the song "Il faudra leur dire" (They Must be Told) are on a perfect par with the great songwriter and singer. He is truly one of them, and the children seem to "know" that this is the case.

Click here for a streamed version of this song

Since early this morning at Gamone, this music—which mesmerizes me—has been playing non-stop on my Macintosh. Light rain is falling, and my dog Fitzroy is sleeping alongside my desk. Meanwhile, I spent much time this morning by trying to tell one of my Australian sisters that I look upon her Wordpress blogging activities as puzzling, to say the least. Click here to judge for yourselves. I keep saying to her: Why don't you write an Australia-based blog along the same lines and in the same kind of spirit and style as my France-based Antipodes ?

PAROLES DE CABREL

Si c'est vrai qu'il y a des gens qui s'aiment 

Si les enfants sont tous les mêmes 

Alors il faudra leur dire

C'est comme des parfums qu'on respire


Juste un regard 

Facile à  faire
Un peu plus d'amour que d'ordinaire

Puisqu'on vit dans la même lumière
Même s'il y a des couleurs qu'ils préfèrent

Nous on voudrait leur dire
C'est comme des parfums qu'on respire
Juste un regard
Facile à  faire
Un peu plus d'amour que d'ordinaire

Juste un peu plus d'amour encore
Pour moins de larmes

 

Pour moins de vide
Pour moins d'hiver
Puisqu'on vit dans les creux d'un rêve
Avant que l’amour ne touche nos lèvres
Nous on voudrait leur dire
Les mots qu'on reçoit
C'est comme des parfums qu'on respire
Il faudra leur dire
Facile à  faire
Un peu plus d'amour que d'ordinaire

Si c'est vrai qu'il y a des gens qui s'aiment
Si les enfants sont tous les mêmes
Alors... il faudra leur dire
Les mots qu'on reçoit
C'est comme des parfums qu'on respire
Il faudra leur dire
Facile à  faire 

Europe ready to discuss Britain's departure

At the Bratislava meeting, European nations revealed that they would like to start discussions with the UK as soon as possible on the subject of Britain's departure from Europe. Click here to listen to Donald Tusk, president of European Council.

Interesting tweets

I like these tweets from

@boldatheism

 

 Click to enlarge slightly

Silly ideas form in my imagination

Two days ago, I was working calmly on my iMac when the electricity suddenly disappeared, just after 4 o'clock in the afternoon. There were no vehicles on the road down alongside the River Bourne. An hour later, the electricity had not reappeared in my house. Crazy ideas started to form in my imagination. I wondered if terrorists might have blown up a nuclear power station. Frankly, I was quite worried. I strolled down the road with my dog, but this didn't ease my mind at all, since the neighborhood was in total silence. Finally, I heard the church bells of Châtelus ringing at 6 o'clock. I dashed back into the house, where I was relieved to find the electricity restored.

Yesterday, my neighbor Jackie told me that a road-works machine, further up along the valley, had accidentally destroyed an electricity pylon, causing an extensive blackout.

All the news I hear about terrorists has twisted my mind...

Proud to be British

Diane James—a businesswomen and healthcare professional—has just replaced Nigel Farage as the new leader of the UK Independence Party. They look liberated. Don’t they just?

Australian magpies

I've always been surprised by the fact that French people seem to know nothing at all about our Australian magpies.

Our birds Down Under look a litle like the French bird referred to as a pie, pronounced pee.

So, French people imagine that they're basically the same creature. Few people know that our Australian magpies, in their nesting season, attack children on bicycles by diving down at their heads. This kind of attack used to terrify me when I was a boy in South Grafton.

An Australian child on a bicycle, when attacked by a wild magpie, is capable of bending his head, looking down at the road, and maybe running into an approaching vehicle. If the bird uses its heavy beak to hit a child on the skull, this can cause a nasty wound

For French readers : The name in French of our possibly-vicious Australian magpie is the Cassican flûteur (Gymnorhina tibicen).

Dinosaur for sale in France

An American owner has decided to put his excellent dinosaur up for sale in France. Before the auction takes place, the skeleton is on display in a French railway station. The future auctioneer believes there'll be a big crowd of prospective buyers, because it's rare to find a top-quality dinosaur up for sale in this corner of the world.

I would like to put in a bid. I'm sure that my dog Fitzroy would love to have such a friend at Gamone. But the dinosaur is surely above my budget. I'll make a point of providing readers with details when the sale takes place. And, if ever I raked up enough cash to clinch the deal, Fitzroy and I will throw a dinosaur party at Gamone.

Going, going… gone

David Cameron, 49, ex-PM of the United Kingdom, has announced his intention to abandon his current job as a Tory parliamentarian. He explains that it’s not possible for a former PM to become an efficient political representative (of the everyday variety). Cameron resigned on June 24 following the Brexit vote.

Google's latest voice is not bad at all

Click here to access a short French-language article about Google's latest achievements in synthetic voices. Samples start with well-chosen words: "aspects of the sublime".

Do dolphins use an advanced language?

The Russian scientist Vyacheslav Ryabov, of the Crimean marine station in Karadag, affirms that the language of dolphins is just as complex as human language. Click here to access his article on this subject in the St. Petersburg Polytechnic University Journal: Physics and Mathematics. This specialist in marine biology and animal communication draws attention to the fact that dolphins have existed on the planet Earth for a much greater period of time than humans. So, they've had sufficient time to become as smart as us. I don't know whether that reasoning is valid, but it sounds good to me. I would be thrilled to discover that dolphins—even though they don't appear to publish books, set up scientific laboratories or carry out political elections—are as bright (?) as the brightest humans.

My readers might not know that the French region in which Gamone is located is known as the Dauphiné. That term is related to the French word for "dolphin", and it's closely linked to the word dauphin, designating the eldest son of a French king.

Arms of the Dauphin of France

But why would dolphins be evoked in the name of a region so far from the sea, and in the nickname of a prince? If you're interested, I'll make a point of telling you—one of these days—my "theory" on this question...

World butchery championship in Australia

A short news article in the French press reveals that the world butchery championship was held in Australia, but it indicates neither the date of the event nor the name of the city in which it took place. Guess who won. France, of course. Here’s a photo of the French entry for the preparation of beef, the preparation of lamb, and minced beef rolls. The French team was composed of three butchers from the Loire region.

Plantu cartoon

Click to enlarge slightly

French police-woman

Dramatic interview of a brave young French police-woman, Magali, who was obliged to fire back at a terrorist at the wheel of a big truck in Nice on July 14, 2016. Clearly, Magali is still suffering deeply, and it's not certain that she'll be able to carry on her career.

Today, as the world looks back at September 11, and relates that terrible day to more recent happenings in Europe and elsewhere, I realize more than ever that the lives and thoughts of countless human beings throughout the world have been changed forever by our awareness of the horrors of terrorism. We must never forget.

Egodates

An egodate is a political candidate with no chances of being elected, who's purely on an ego trip. In France, they're rampant at present. In French, such a person would be called an égodat. Let me introduce you to two outstanding French egodates: Nadine Morano and Jean-François Copé.

Nadine Morano in the company of Alain Juppé [photo AFP]

It's not very honest of me to refer to Nadine Marano, today, as a genuine egodate, for she was knocked out of the race a week ago, at La Baule, by her right-wing parliamentarian brothers and sisters, who refused to endorse her candidacy. Now, why would they? There's no way in the world that she could ever receive more than a handful of votes at next year's presidential election. I assume therefore that Nadine has been on a purely selfish ego trip. So good riddance, my dear lady. You're no longer needed here.

Jean-François Copé might be described as an outstanding professional egodate, with lengthy experience and laurels on his head. In athletic terms, he's a champion marathonian. In boxing terms, a punching bag. No matter how hard he's hit next year, and how few votes he collects, Copé will be back for more. No determined egodate ever gives up. That wouldn't be cricket. Above all, that wouldn't be Copé.

I nevertheless wonder why dull individuals of this ilk are letting off personal steam constantly in our complex world dominated by terrorism, poverty, racism, etc. Since they have nothing to say (apart from rambling on about their personal careers), why don't they simply remain silent ?

BREAKING NEWS: Copé has just stated that his successful election next year would give rise to a “true rupture”. He wasn’t talking about some kind of nasty medical attack that might affect him. He was simply saying that he would destroy all contacts with “the band of four”. Was he referring to leaders in some remote Communist nation? No, he was simply using flamboyant egodate’s language to designate four fellow-politicians: Sarkozy, Juppé, Fillon and Le Maire. Regardless of what they actually say (which doesn't matter greatly), egodates need to be good at loud talking.

MORE BREAKING NEWS: Copé lost little time before making another attack upon Sarko.  « Il est un colosse qui dispose de tous les pouvoirs et de tous les moyens, un colosse réputé invisible, lance-t-il. Ceux-là ont oublié la belle histoire de David contre Goliath. Il est des colosses dont les pieds sont en argile. »  Copé's hatred of Sarko is virulent. In comparing himself with the biblical David, Copé demonstrates that he has a screw loose. This has been my personal impression for ages.

STILL MORE BREAKING NEWS: Nadine refuses to keep her silly mouth shut. Admire this extract from Le Point. She, too, seems to have a screw loose. I have the impression that this weakness is common to egodates such as Nadine and Copé. They see themselves as God's gift to society. They simply cannot imagine that they bore most folk.

Click to enlarge slightly

The Falling Man

This silent image of a single individual dropping to earth, taken by the news photographer Richard Drew, symbolizes every human being who died that day. The Falling Man has never been identified.

Fitzroy is back outside, in the dark

Last night, I was happy to go to sleep with Fitzroy lying on the bedroom floor, in his elegant little sleeping bag, which I had withdrawn from his kennel. The house adventure didn't last for long. This afternoon, Fitzroy made it perfectly clear to me that he did not intend to repeat the in-house procedure. I have my house, and Fitzroy has his... his own little private residence. And there's no sense in trying to combine them. It's amazing that a dog can get this complex message across in a perfectly clear manner, without the slightest word.

There's a wonderful story about a talking donkey, the friend of a little boy. The child wants to demonstrate the donkey's extraordinary talents to people in the village, but the animal refrains from uttering a single word. Afterwards, when the village people have stopped making fun of the child, and they've all gone home, the boy asks the donkey: "Why did you refuse to speak in front of the village people?" The animal explains: "I don't like to speak with all those dull folk, who wouldn't understand me. They bore me. I only take pleasure in rambling on with you."

I often feel that Fitzroy is a bit like that donkey. One of these days, my dog will inform me that he doesn't mind listening to my voice, but that the things he might say to me are so extraordinary that a fellow like me simply wouldn't understand.

France has all kinds of exotic things

Even genuine Communists. Here's a typical specimen: Pierre Laurent, 49, French journalist and politician, senator, former editor-in-chief of the newspaper L'Humanité, and national secretary of the PCF (Parti communiste français) since June 2010.

Crowds of dinosaurs are gathered together this weekend, with their friends, at the Fête de L'Humanité : a time-honored festival organized by the French Communist newspaper. I hardly need to stress the fact that all these nice folk are perfectly respectable. They wouldn't use a hammer and sickle to hurt a flea. I don't know whether they're aware of the state of Communism in other parts of the world, including Russia. They probably don't care too much about such matters. Please don't hurt their feelings by bringing up subjects like that. On the other hand, I'm sure they collect Soviet postage stamps, postcards of Moscow, and antique editions of books by Marx (Karl, not Groucho). And they surely love to sip vodka while listening nostalgically to balalaika music.