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Every morning in his bathroom with gleaming marble, with wry grimace of the Venus of Canova who reigned over the bathtub - to faucets decorated with swan heads - it looked extensively in the Venetian mirror - purchased from an antiques dealer with a legend Dorsoduro wanted it had belonged to some corrupt Doge - to include details on his body the progress of the disease. The blood had drained from his face now uniformly gray, a gray evoked certainly die, but also granite Cultural Facilities the government had equipped the territory, so that the color sets and costumes, lighting and tone may also be the text, many stagings choreographic and dramatic that it had funded. An emblematic color, like the map of the wrinkles that recalled some of the paintings of Sung-Jun.
After carefully scrubbed, as if he suffered only a skin disease and not an evil house, he strolled into his apartment unable to conceive the annihilation of the next consoles Regency Flemish landscapes, beautiful Afghan carpet, much less original editions of Proust, Anatole France, Paul Bourget, and many others who populated his library. The junk appeasement, whose job it was to track and promote avant-garde. He liked to slip into a warm bath and scented with a glass of cognac on the edge of the tub, a sonata by Chopin in the CD. There he got rid of fatigue after each victory, and the bath had lasted a little longer the day had obtained credit outstanding for the collective Niebelstein.
Bearer of a new artistic standards, the collective Niebelstein refused to reveal his plans ; Its funding requests were reduced to blank pages, and no one knew where how or when it would occur. For Niebelstein, Art was a story ever written, and the bureaucratization is'insurgeait cons creators. He demanded a blank check, said freedom of the artist in the rejection of any return, asked that the intention was worth as much as the realization, refused the bourgeois concept of materiality. The group would never agree, because engagement is impossible and is already recovering from the artist by the dominant power. He denounced the bourgeois vulgarity Department Cultures of Solidarity, which called for something tangible in exchange for money, thereby contributing to the commodification of the world, yet he must fight.
creations Niebelstein collective future could be spectacular happenings (and then we would see what you would see), as well as mere intuitions, ideas fugitives embryos, or the quiet beauty of nothingness. It was a real
maieutics, convince his colleagues, however, convinced of their own open-mindedness, that the government should be at the forefront of subversion, overthrow taboos to build fraternal society tomorrow, encourage nihilism fruitful future holders of diversity, after months of fighting, he snatched the final grant, the St. Gotthard in his career as an agitator of State, and that evening a breath of wholeness tinted melancholy had invaded.
Only much later did he understand the real meaning of Niebelstein business, and how it had completely escaped during the gestation of the project, and also the reasons for the silent opposition officials the Department, because they foresaw the fatal consequences of their activity - it was only a few months later, while at least, he believed, the rampant illness sharpened his senses, he glimpsed the rupture, the critical junction in history that would end the hum of rituals agreed, inaugurations and Seasonal events, of congratulations and approval, and the endless revolts tarnished representation of the intellectual elite and its imaginary dried. Stuck in a routine that prevented any development other than that, predictably, to bestiality animal culmination transgressions programmed cultural modernity of State had recreated despite her solemn boredom of Olympus. The French and European art will be reborn in the spraying system fossil - thanks to the factor triggering chaotic Niebelstein - and risking kitsch, pop, decadent, the reactionary and the mall! But then there would have to close the store, recycle planners cultural ministry bureaucrats ordinary abandon the construction by the culture of the fraternal society of tomorrow, and leave the intellectual bourgeoisie fonctionnariale its secular and dizziness when she would understand that the state no longer took over the training its taste!
course, these thoughts intolerable had not even touched when he supported the project, he believed in good faith to work for the public service and public interest, and even long after it seems inconceivable that it was he Felix Rocquencourt, which would permanently active this destructive mechanism.
The next day, Anne had come to collect her belongings, leaving only the instruction manual that sex, prudish to counteract the influence of his mother, he had read the year of its five years, and honestly describing the mechanism of coitus and the genital anatomy of both sexes, while encouraging the child to fully assume its guidance.
Then he began to feel some fatigue, tinged with chronic anemia, he had at first attributed to the "blues" of childbirth - in this case, the project Niebelstein - then the betrayal of his daughter, but that was just the physical toll exacted by the liver tumor.
Her salon, delicate blend of rococo and Pompeian style, furnished with stamped works, housed in a cabinet Florentine marble-TV, Post subject only to 1850. He always inquired of audiovisual coverage of the actions it funded. It was 7:20 p.m., the hour of regional news, and though it had greater significance, he lit the receiver, curious about what they would say the new staging of Tartuffe. Actually, there was little uncertainty, because journalists were faithfully acquired him. They adhered fully to the cultural struggle of France, aware of its importance to threats of globalization that brings all the temptations of hegemony. They encouraged people to move, to take an interest in young artists, videographers and the kinetic creations Sung-Jun, to experience the realism of contemporary films from foolishly Markowicz, to capture for new productions of The Miser and Tartuffe, which highlighted the incredible modernity of these texts in light of the social divide and new urban tribes.
They had fully cooperated in the dissemination of the Ministry slogans - "Contemporary creation captivates you -" Plasticity in all its forms - "Move! - "26, is celebrating culture -" In May, each young person is an artist "-" Sartrouville, a Spring mind-blowing "-" The warm nights of contemporary art - "Carnival of the General Councils" - "Rock explodes as mayor of Paris' ...
He pressed the button. It showed a synagogue destroyed by the flames. It was beautiful, it recalled the burning of Atlanta in Gone with the wind. According to experts, the cause was probably accidental. A worker had left a lit cigarette near a container of bleach. "Still, it is essential for lasting peace in the Middle East, thought Felix de Rocquencourt although there was no connection between this unfortunate accident and the events in the Middle East.
Then there was an advertisement for ice cream, and he found the leg of the agency's public relations department of culture and solidarity, and it was not until the next spot he realized that it had been no question of the staging of Tartuffe. It was still not because of the burning of the synagogue they had suppressed the story on Tartuffe. Such incidents occur frequently and it was an accident, provided that it does had not happened.
He picked up the phone and dialed the number Gobidart.
- George? Felix. Were you the first?
Gobidart, employee TV, among others, was the most influential critic of the Paris exchange. The direction of concerted action never fails to send invitations to lunches and the first release. It was surely responsible for Tartuffe.
Felix! How are you?
Very well, thank you, "said Felix, who thought its metastasis to the lung.
"Well, can you imagine that the representation had to be interrupted.
-What?
-At the end of the first act, a foul smell ... spread in the room was any site thought to rogues armed with stink bombs. But there is no school on the former. It had air conditioning ...
But it is a real-sabotage!
And the worst thing is that at this moment, a genuine laughter shook the room ...
"But it's horrible! ... A staging so severe, austere, demanding for months ... working .... and all that ends up in practical jokes!
-The theater director suggested cut the air, but the security services objected, citing the regulation ... anyway, the damage was done ... it would have had to evacuate the room for at least two hours, the smell dissipates.
"I hope the media will remain silent on this unfortunate incident.
"You can count on me.
"The bastards! "Felix thought by hanging, although it completely ignorant of what bastards they were.
stink bombs in the air ... they had to take advantage of complicity. ... They wanted to make a good joke. ... They did not know ... the challenge of globalization. ... cultural exception ... it was tough! Especially since the previous month, access to culture had been recorded in the preamble to the Declaration of the Rights of Man and Woman, after a petition whose first signing was another than Felix Rocquencourt!
In support of this petition, sociologists have published feature articles in the newspaper Le Monde which showed that cultural consumption had become a vital need, as well as vitamins, condoms or the British weekly rest. We were dealing with real fascists, who were attacking a fundamental right of human beings, because their dark plans of indoctrination of the masses clashed with the new pluralistic solidarity.
Filled with vertigo, he sank an emergency hot bath and do not skimp on the salt, complex flavors worthy of a vintage blue rose from the foam reliefs female. With music by Francois Couperin, always faithful, he found serenity after the assault from the outside world. After bathing he lit a cigar and everything would be better. Carefully he removed the disc from its case and slipped into the drive slot. The first chords of the harpsichord sounded, he knew almost by heart, but this time they sounded different, like the sinister message of an era permeated with God and where death was part of the family, the sermons of Bossuet, epidemics roamed and corpses of children. Music that had captivated by his frivolous gallantry and refined no longer expressed a profound anxiety and objective gallantry, frivolity, refinement, had only existed in his mind.
Once out of the bath it dried up and perfumed himself, but his scent did not cover the smell of old gentleman, and he felt that the smell was foreign to his illness, he exhaled because it was just an old man now, and how it was improper for him, Felix Rocquencourt, paid by the government on behalf of youth and change, had become an old man just like everybody else. For some time he felt a polite irony in the attitude of young heads of office of ministry. He was allowed to speak without listening too, as a living fossil, a witness of a bygone era. The project Niebelstein appeared to him in retrospect as a desperate attempt to prove to everyone that he remained "in the loop." But perhaps the nihilistic excesses of the artists they betrayed him, and no doubt "they said in the corridors that Felix Rocquencourt was decidedly more sterile than an emblem for use by politicians and follicular .

Earpads Sound System Salomon

Like every time he returned to Madame Tran, ie at least twice a week, Captain Berneuil believed himself master of the world. It took two or three girls then went to breakfast with a thick rib of beef in Texas Lounge And after eating all this fresh meat, it reached a state of absolute domination. Not only nothing could resist him, but he felt perfectly available for a game of tennis, a friendly conversation or a philosophical speculation on the meaning of history, all of which seemed pure futility as it does had not emptied his testicles and refueling of its red blood cells. It was to his surprise in perfect agreement with the theory of hierarchy of needs, the dada of the evil blonde lifted them had taught management at the Ecole Militaire de Saint-Cyr Coetquidan. According
this theory, man can not rise without the satisfaction of basic needs. Needless to initiate a starving the work of Kandinsky, speak with Locke's a guy who has not fucked for months, requiring the rigor of a professional insomniac, or critical thinking of a man hunted by assassins. A
the trash, so the old myth of asceticism, mortification all the floggings supposed to lead to spiritual realms. Gone are the ayatollahs, the madmen of God, Stakhanovists monomaniac. The elite of today is well nourished and déburne quickly, it This was understood by business schools, policy makers of the Higher Institute of War and the brothel keepers and grill Texas.
But, of course, the vital needs of each are not those of others. Some people, especially women, could not live without love. For Hervé Berneuil, love was a fiction which allowed to reproduce by mating with bodies that did not appealing. He could not say if it was love that had led him to Anne, but in any event he had warned. Warned that he disliked the war, the whores and red meat, and some ancillary books that remade the world in light of dubious theories, that his body, his voice and his conversation was pleasant, but we can not see these menus amenities perfect harmony of hearts has always sung by the novels.
But she was quick to understand that despite all the sympathy she felt for him, it was not necessary because his goal was not dependent on the idiosyncrasies of her small person, but the mere existence of a race of 'men get married by a military fucked by a soldier, knocked up by a soldier, all in the most traditional forms, passé, obsolete and reactionary, that is all she was looking for reasons unclear but kept reporting problems with his father, whom she had persuaded Herve Berneuil, the more agnostic, skeptic and apolitical infantry officers Navy, campaigned actively in a far-right movement.
The day after his marriage, his regiment had been sent to Djibouti to end the last redoubt of the Affairs of Allah Brigade. For three weeks he had wandered into patrols haggard under a scorching heat, shooting at anything that looked like an enemy that was not beautiful to see, because in these times of radical jihad, the Brigade was suspected of recruiting women, children and old men. And, in agreement with the theory, in the sweltering heat and anxiety, justice, culture and aesthetics had yielded to the primal goal of saving his skin.
Most officers were types without interest, concern about drunkenness and fornication. Many settled for a few months in a conjugal relationship of playacting with a local girl raised in a nightclub, in exchange for "financial contributions", he preferred the whores of Tran's mother, was more frank. He had sole friend Captain Speyer, the second foreign Cavalry. The primal needs
Were a constant biological or did they vary depending on the mores and the advancement of a civilization? In some primitive tribes, it accommodates a small house, you do not wash, and they tolerate the proliferation of insects on his skin. The Anglo-Saxons do not understand how the French bear their own body odor and why they like to wade in dog excrement. Captain Speyer joined the Foreign Legion after the computer had ruined his life, as others are engulfed in addiction to narcotics. One day, his hard drive had been partially destroyed, and his machine had become so dependent bypass of conscience, we could, without exaggeration, compare this incident to a severe stroke. The consequences were not different. His ability to communicate with the outside world had been seriously reduced. He had fallen out with many friends, because they could not contact them electronically. Its accounts, photos of family, sticky, her partner of Go (a carefully calibrated on his level of play and its strategic tics), had been annihilated. He had undergone a period of depression, disinterest, in full conformity with the theory, but theory does not it becomes tautological since the primal need is redefined as anything the lack is pathogenic? Anyway, Speyer had sworn neplus touch a computer, and the Foreign Legion had given the pyramid of needs on the solid foundation of vital functions. The primal needs
they emerged from a long practice, they were the result of the fossilization of a habit, that they were the expression of a biological tendency, encoded in our genes, repeated acts of the day because it was a reasonable survival strategy, ergonomic in that it reduces uncertainty and hardships entailed by constant innovation-adaptation-experimentation?
One of the officers liked sleeping with sausage, blondes, Flemish or Alsatian, full of curves with hints of ham or lard. It became a real drug, he needs his dose of blond and roundness of a world in shades of pink mucosa that suggested safety primitive fetal fluid, and as you might expect the analogy between the flesh and skin consistently plump and smooth the butcher, her generous chest and thighs bulky, and the euphoria of abundance derived porcine lard, sausages, sausages, sauerkraut screens and trim, was not pleased with anything in the limits of cannibalism was looking for this man. Djiboutaises and dry like old dates had been more than a disappointment, it had been a real fall of the vital principle we could measure the rate of endorphins and density of the red cells.

Chicken Rotel Velveeta Commercial

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2

Leaving the Asian restaurant in the Rue Mazarine, where he breakfasted once a week, the young Jean-Claude Verdot was suddenly aware that he was perfectly happy. First, it was freedom from want, and forever. Indeed, he served for three months, that is to say since his release from the Institute for Policy Studies, a post of Special Adviser to the Ministry of Cultures Partners, known for his Christmas bonus and munificence statutory their jobs for life. Secondly, he lived in Paris in an apartment admittedly small and expensive, but close to libraries, cinemas Art and Essay and theater quality. His life would be a long stroll, a trip aesthetic and cultural development without specific destination, an insolent foraging through the productions of the human mind that the goodwill of successive governments had concentrated in this wonderful city. Thirdly, he had a girlfriend , she was pretty, free of venereal disease like him, she made love so very correct, yes, quite acceptable, just as he did, indeed, and they had to excellent orgasms. Carnal success was a pillar of happiness. Was a girl really friendly, open and modern, it was preparing a tourism management degree and was active in a humanitarian thing. She had strong views on peace in the Middle East and the role of women in the society of tomorrow. He liked the cut of his pants and how it foreshadowed his navel.
He was about to live as he had decided tomorrow would be a variant of today, there are Chinese restaurants, pizzerias, hippopotamus; American comedies behind the Carrefour de l'Odeon; updates Directed by the Miser that call into question the previous stagings of the Miser ; conversations with friends in smoky pubs, a drink of beer you might wonder how to promote citizen vigilance; of feverish wanderings among the joyous din of the music festival, at the date and time when the government has decided, scheming to attend shows without queuing, others scheming to obtain public housing in the City of Paris, others also scheming to exit office one hour before anyone else, to avoid congestion in departure weekend, and then many other shenanigans finally, just for fun.
A life dedicated to the only thing that was worth the pain, pleasure, a life where every new pleasure chase the precedent at a time when people began to get tired of a life where even thrive in idleness the improbable open-air museum where the welfare and the ministry of culture and solidarity, had wanted him to live.
He certainly had to sacrifice a few years in the preparation of entrance examination. Learning to talk about a book you did not read, summarize a trial without substance, to discourse learnedly of interest being careful not to define it, write a text which, in another context, in a world where people would be given to the meaning of neologisms learned it uses, might have a sense, but, fortunately, had none since and it has no powers of the Ministry of Cultures Partners to produce meaning, it would compete with the creators it subsidizes, and prejudicial to pluralism.
While devoting his life to pleasure, Jean-Claude Verdot nevertheless had some ideas (like his girlfriend). It was against the car, when he needed that he borrowed from a friend. The city would revert to pastoral paradise where one could walk at ease among street entertainment and exotic smells. The party would move the heart of urban centers, the use of citizen-friendly environment. Thanks to scholarly bladders, mounds, tubes and other deterrents ingenious ways of coercion, we repress the cars on the edge of the city, never to let that public transport and youth on wheels. Jean-Claude Verdot also thought that a world government would establish universal brotherhood soon. This was certainly a vague intuition, but applauded the deepening and enlargement of the European Union, he hoped the advent of the new European man, who has scrapped all its conflicts hung, replaced by a new struggle for a better world environmentally friendly and minorities. But this was only a step, because the international community would unite one day and finally found the planetary body that would abolish war, the ozone hole and the selfishness that would end with genocide, discrimination and verbal insult.
He believed in diversity cultural and linguistic, that UNESCO should defend at the same time as the traditional lifestyles at risk. The new European man would be as diverse inside and outside, he spoke several languages, is a connoisseur of world music and the Tajik cuisine and philosophy Papuan. He stood proudly in front of the head and hegemonic conspiracy transclonique was going overseas, where the coldness of the biotech labs padded basement housed the gestation of the perfect subject of the Empire, with its millions of copies interchangeable ready to swallow everything Hollywood and vianderies Illinois Industrial preparation.
It was also not a matter of belief, but rather comfortable clothes that allow him to feel good in his circle of friends, because there's nothing more comforting than thinking the same thing someone else is like an objective guarantee cutter madness, and if the chances of life would one day have to change the environment - which, conceding it was unlikely - it would have then displayed to other opinions, as we swapped a blue work against a tuxedo if circumstances require. His lack of belief came that, like many members of his class, he never had an indirect contact with reality, filtered through textbooks, newspapers and media. Rape, bankruptcy, serious illness, the struggle for survival, "that gave you a vision of the world. But neither Jean-Claude Verdot nor his girlfriend had been raped, they did not go bankrupt, having never run a business, they were too young to experience a serious illness, and their survival was secured at a level comfortable with the benevolence of the French government.
Thus, for Jean-Claude Verdot, and of course for his girlfriend, there was nothing more degrading for a woman to take her home and devote herself to her children - the liberation of women was through paid work, even when he was looking after other children - but these customs were so repugnant that Jean-Claude regression Verdot knew no woman in this situation, if not quite as temporary because a woman, according to the precepts of psychologists and sociologists, is Motherhood must live if only a few months - because the human being reaches the fullness that the acquisition of a diversified portfolio of valuable experiences. Similarly, none of their friends knew of a woman oppressed by domestic conditions, so that this opinion was still tinged with ineffable coolness brain, the evocation of the suffering of these women stimulated gland no compassion, no more than some conflict where the right distance from each other and crime is reduced to some abstract indignation columnists. Yet, these women certainly existed, since collective responsibility to defend them signed petitions and lawsuits. Simply, their trajectories does not intersect the portion of spacetime known Jean-Claude and his circle of friends. Similarly
Verdot Jean-Claude, his girlfriend and their friends were appalled by racism - as well as homophobia, xenophobia, and antisemitism - but it would be fairer to say that the description was the press who revolted because their open and tolerant, it was extremely unlikely to observe a racist act, even one gifted with telepathy and even if he committed in thought. Consequently, their revolt against racism had the same quality that you feel when an author is unduly die a sympathetic character; news and global phenomena about which they made their decision because they were real and told them, otherwise they had all a fiction because they had experienced any of these facts, nor witnessed any of these phenomena. Jean-Claude
Verdot belonged to the first generation truly atheist and humanist-cons since the Reformation. His grandparents were practicing a routine and obscurantist Catholicism, austere and depressing because stripped of ornaments from the Latin and aesthetics, and his parents had exhausted their souls in pursuit of improbable spirituality, Buddhism, Tantra, Freudianism, for them the Holy Grail would be a Christian but he knew existed in some pure shamanistic tribe with its destitution and therefore guardian of the Absolute since millennia - and they had stacked the books in bookstores smoky gleaned esoteric Boulevard Montparnasse. Of course, there was nothing left, not even a rule of living. Jean-Claude
Verdot himself as a hedonistic citizens. Hedonistic, because only the sensual and intellectual pleasure could give meaning to life which had proved biology she was a superior form, but fatal outcome and the chance of cellular organization, it had nothing original, that's what the materialistic philosophies repeated concern of the general happiness, but Jean- Claude Verdot put him in practice every day by tasting the variety of restaurants in the capital, the fineness of provocative arts and making love with her very proper girlfriend. Citizen, because if he, Jean-Claude Verdot, accesses the sensual and intellectual pleasure, so we can not deprive his equals, his brothers and his ilk, and that only a democratic constitution and mindful of Human Rights guarantees the dignity and pleasure of many.
Since the succession of little pleasures made Jean-Claude Verdot perfectly happy, he naturally wished to others the same existence, and could approve the policy of the state redistributive solidarity, and quality-conscious culture of the masses. He could not conceive that one can forgo a balanced life as well as hers, such as one might prefer to engage in bestial appetites (although these appetites, as taught in Science, were specifically listed by genes in our cellular organization) or to otherwise damaged in asceticism and fasting, or indulge in frenzied financial speculation, or risk his life by exploring dangerous lands, and he did not understand either the lack of compassion of some wealthy cranky (he had never met but read about it in newspapers) that are insensitive to the cultural qualities of the masses, put their money offshore to evade taxes. Yet, the community, unanimously finding their needs well met, had decided to deprive them of unnecessary trinkets to build a better society.
A true gentleman of the Renaissance, that's what it was, as indeed most of the employees of the department. Jean-Claude

Verdot strolls, he went as slowly as possible to the department, he stopped at each showcase antique, he joined every newsagent for cultural magazines to leaf, it consults the map for each restaurant he yawns before the pillars, it gives a cigarette out of the system, he meditates before a selection of properties, he bought an apple, he throws his bag in an apple turnover trash, and, finally, it passes the front door of the department.
At 14.45, he attended a meeting in the presence of the General Delegate to the culture of the region Poitou-Charentes, Head of New Media Contemporary Office and Director General of the action, Felix Rocquencourt.
- People interested too few young contemporary video artists, the company was indignant. There is a pool of talent that goes unnoticed, because the intervention policy of the department is too shy.
- Alas, Madame, the lack of cut ... Rocquencourt.
- ... We exclude people from large parts of contemporary culture, especially in sensitive areas. If one truly wants to train citizens, they must have access to video creation. Therefore, to mobilize them, I propose to organize a festival centered around citizen meetings and debates on the future of the French audiovisual ... The festival is part of the program of collaborative initiatives "the region captivates you, "and constitutes a major social and political construction in the territories ...
Rocquencourt evokes a sad story, which delegated has probably heard a murky business of vandalism, a contemporary art space in a devastated suburb of Pas-de-Calais, nothing remained of the exhibition devoted to a young artist-provocateur artist, his works had been mutilated, doused with urine, feces had been found in a kinetic interactive space, there was millions of damage, counsel for the visual artist-provocateur had sued the council, rumor had the supposed guilt of a militia radical right-wing, others have seen prowling young poor neighborhoods near the contemporary art space, but recanted when the police had interviewed. In short, anyway, to get to the point, a line emergency budget had been allocated for the rehabilitation of the site, and absurdly, inexplicably, was his service to him, Rocquencourt, management concerted action, which had to bear this financial burden, so that despite all the sympathy ... despite the acute awareness ... despite the potential of young Europeans you ... ... understand that the Minister is an elected member of the Pas-de-Calais ...

Three months ago, Felix was a famous seducer Rocquencourt Paris. We delighted in his Armani suits, her chiffon scarves tied around emerald-green neck with calculated neglect, its avant-garde shoes, perfume, a blend of maple sugar and sandalwood exhaled his cheeks still freshly shaven, the fineness of his friendly conversation worthy of a great scholar who did not hide his passion for the Promotion of Culture, or rather cultures, particularly the more disturbing. But Felix Rocquencourt who attended the meeting was gray, wrinkles carved, eye disillusioned because he suffered from a liver tumor metastasis and already pointing the tip of his nose to the lung.
- You're screwed, said the first doctor.
- Nine months, at most, had confirmed a second.
- No chance, had reached the third. Felix
Rocquencourt was mad with rage against himself because he knew he would not die accidentally, or under any genetic determinism, but because at the beginning of summer, its daughter Rocquencourt Anne, married Captain Hervé Berneuil, the fourth regiment of marine infantry paratrooper, an alleged member of the National Republican Movement, and bound for Djibouti - she was four months pregnant.
Oh, she did not miss his chance! He who was educated in tolerance, secularism, respect for pluralism, responsiveness to painful problems of ethnic, racial, and sex (although there were no races, racial minorities existed, social construction of model dominant ideology), but it was not that which made him the most trouble, no, the more painful it was to imagine that brute macho make her come like a dog because it was also his pain, his stripes, his prostration to him, his father, she enjoyed and felt like intolerance reactionary, right full of blind hatred, the dull stupidity that for thousands of years back turned to history, as if the most hateful ideologies, that it was his sacred duty to fight, had voluntarily implemented the deadly canker gnawed his liver at the same time as the seed that would produce lethal God knows what white boy, what a redneck, what Dupont-the-joy, what Poujadist, how satisfied citizens to be, how cynical exploiter, what greedy capitalist ... and now instead of crack, to thunder, instead to act as a father who shows the way he died stupidly, like an intruder, like a guy who bothers who abused the hospitality of another!
But how could he? While all the education he gave to his children was impregnated with the rejection of violence patricarcale based on principles of openness and harmony, free development of their being ? Then he wanted with all his might that his children find their own way, because he was convinced, after digested Tantrism, Jungianism, and Cubism, otherwise we would not build a harmonious society of tomorrow . Well her path, she had found her!

Although each knew that when Felix Rocquencourt, even gray, even a foot in the grave, said no, it meant not, the company clung. She invoked the plight of the neighborhoods, progress galloping illiteracy audiovisual, worrying divide aesthetic imperative morale and local government in mobilizing the artistic and cultural populations, she left a stylish laptop bag in hand, connects in a flash on the video projector, and began a lengthy presentation of the financial statement, creative and citizen of his delegation. When she had finished, Felix Rocquencourt asleep.

After the meeting, Jean-Claude Verdot returned to his office, to finish reading the World. They took coffee with Odile, a young special assistant, and they discussed the difficulties in finding accommodation in Paris. Then he telephoned his girlfriend And they agreed on they would go see the movie this evening and a barbecue to try Lebanese who had just opened. Everything was fine and she had found places for the new staging of Tartuffe - a gaunt Tartuffe, half naked, with shaved heads - to which everyone was rushing and a great outlet in perspective, of especially since we had secured the area around the theater, and the clashes between "inner city youth" and the police, during which dozens of vehicles belonging to residents had soared, and where they had changed many payphones in clusters of crushed glass, were a bad memory.
at 17:15 he left the department as usual and before disappearing into the subway went into the bookstore Bomberg. He loved to leaf through books, rarely venturing to buy because they were too expensive. Three new books came out, the scent of the Apocalypse. One we described a human obese, puffy popcorn and hamburgers, brutish and violent television Manichean, where only the logos of baseball caps differentiated between individuals. The second warned against the global warming of the planet, unfortunate consequence of the selfish greed of American consumers. We promised Dunkirk under water, a hurricane in La Rochelle, the Sahara in Carcassonne, here, villages buried by mudslides; there, the exodus of villagers driven by thirst. He concluded that the West capitalist, imperialist and sexist deserved this punishment, but it was unfair that women, homosexuals and people oppressed by the white man also had to suffer from climate chaos bequeathed by his unconsciousness. The third
we painted a France surrounded by evil interests of multinationals, which had only one goal: to increase their profits by inundating us GM foods as poisonous qu'aseptisés, by inflicting their propaganda films, and their hypocritical diplomacy worship of the market. The French should stick together under the leadership of the government to collectively defend their food and cultural achievements. Frontlines was the Ministry of Culture of Solidarity, the guarantor of the audiovisual landscape and pluralistic diversity of artistic expression. Jean-Claude Verdot was sort of a crusader Kulturkampf Worldwide, subsidies that were distributed as ammunition in the hands of the valiant soldiers of Europe under siege.
He rested the book, having just to silence a sense of patriotic excitement. He walked along the radius with contempt management, where the exalted zero defects, total quality control, business plans and the role of the pyramid of needs in the new managerial forms, then the radius fulfillment, stacking methods Coué cons stress, back pain, depression, melancholy, magnesium deficiency and deflation marriage. It swerved at the height of a Humanitarian display - an epidemic of any kind - and stopped at the philosophy department. It was only ontological phenomenology of knowledge, prescience and conscience, cognitive limitations of the in-itself of self, cognitive physiology of the transcendence of Being, critical deconstruction of categorical imperatives, ontology physiological deconstruction, psychoanalysis phenomenological ... of being a priest in a cassock
, how such a thing could really exist in the early third millennium, looking through a box of metaphysical nonsense - at the time of brain chemistry, artificial intelligence and data analysis! - And he turned to him staring at him. What he mingled? As a priest does not entitle him to look at it this way, it was not owner of his conscience, and why he smiled, which he held this right of intrusion?
- Goldstein!
- How are you?
- I did not recognize you ... beards ...
- You did not expect to see me in this garb, is not it?
- You, the brightest of our promotion ... priest?
- And Jesuit, and more!
- But everyone saw you Inspector of Finance, what a mess!
Goldstein laughed.
- This is not the Inspectorate of Finance is concerned that good and evil, let alone the Hereafter!
He did not know how they found themselves face-to-head in a cafe. And he had one fear, passing by a colleague not to recognize it, it was rumored that Opus Dei tried to infiltrate the Ministry of culture and solidarity.
- Twenty-three years, "said Goldstein, I divorce. In accordance with the law, "justice" of men took away my child, my room and half of what I had. I took refuge in reading. The Bible first, but also a Summa Theologica, the Criticón , written by a 17th century English Jesuit, Baltasar Gracian. This work is, if you will, the negation of Darwinism, it describes a creation by putting God at the service of man. The air is transparent, so that man can see the plants grow so that the man eats, the stones were created for man made himself a house ...
- This is what ' called coevolution, "interrupted Jean-Claude which was reminiscent of the scientific section of the newspaper Le Monde.
- If you like. But what I decided, this is not the Bible nor the Criticón, these are the books I read on the theory of relativity. The afterlife exists. Physicists have discovered many more dimensions to the universe than the four which we are confined. We are on the surface of a balloon expanding, whose deformations create gravitational fields, piles of material, local conditions necessary for life. We can not even conceive what it is like inside the balloon. Free men to explore the surface and is rich in lessons. But it's inside that interests me is the center of the balloon that is hidden God, not to the Inspectorate of Finance albeit think the arrival of fresh Péteux that pour in each year ENA . Besides it is shown that the universe was an initial moment, before which there was nothing, not even the weather, a tremendous explosion, where I see the will of a supreme intelligence.
"The poor thing has lost her mind," thought Verdot. Goldstein's monologue reminded him of this syndrome described in the newspaper Le Monde, and he had forgotten the name. This disease came from an area of the brain that normally does not work, do not work. Women who were claimed to communicate with the living Christ. We had developed a hormonal drug that restored the inertia of the area. For
Verdot, the man was a complex network of molecules, a result of millions of years of natural selection and mutations. There was no mystery, nor beyond good and evil were mere social constructions. Simply, the network had achieved the most remarkable complexity, consciousness and conscience was born the desire for immortality, the father of all religions and other metaphysical cosmologies. The reason was that the man that got interested in one thing: pleasure, and he could thank the kind that the complexity of its neuronal organization would allow him to rise above the bestial enjoyment, and taste pleasures of arts and letters, ie culture, including the Ministry of Culture of Solidarity was the guarantor, the curator and instigator, duly mandated by the community.
The refinement of a scallop of veal with truffles or framing of the latest movie Markowicz, the connotations intellectual of the new staging of Miser or Tartuffe (or Dream of a Summer Night ), the libidinous delight of a Persian poem, or the incongruous flavors of a Côte-Rôtie, as the next transgressions Sung-Jun videographer artist, is what justifies the existence not absurd quest of what was inside the balloon where nobody would ever . Jean-Claude
Verdot, proud of his deep humanism and aware of the privileges of his ilk, able to appreciate the real pleasures, burning them to share the greatest number in Paris and in the Territories (whose construction was left unfinished and which reactionary forces were still powerful), so he worked at the Ministry of culture and solidarity.
Before leaving, he exchanged Goldstein and their addresses. He found his girlfriend in the tail of cinema. They saw the last Markowicz, crowned by the criticism, a chronicle of a woman adrift in search of sexual identity in post-adolescence. The Ministry of Culture of Solidarity's work Markowicz funded at 45%, while the Centre National Expressions Audiovisual contributed to 25%. The remaining 30% came from television rights and income indoors because Markowicz was one of the most prominent filmmakers.
his return home, they listened to the information. A gang of thugs had just savagely murdered a little old. They had sodomized in turn, then he had broken bones with rifle baseball bat, and finally, some had dragged his body in the car, while others set fire to his house. Jean-Claude
Verdot did not understand that a little old unconsciousness had to live in such problem areas. Why does the pension fund had it not warning? And the government, why does he not spent more money to support adolescents in neighborhoods? The Ministry of Cultures Partners certainly had funded many interventions, street festivals where young people take back the furniture, courses in social plurality Far East, marathons hip-hop in favor of local associations. But Jean-Claude thought, they are all actors of civil society should be mobilized. His girlfriend
was fully agree with him, but to steer a conversation on the scandal of mink farms. She was appalled by the commodification of endangered species, for pleasure and narcissistic claims venal bourgeois bitches. She went on the suffering of animals in general, and particularly that of battery chickens. Jean-Claude nodded silently. He wanted to make love. They made love every time it was from him that they turned from their output. But this time, at home, there was work, so it was not safe to make love. They did, however, and it was once again very suitable very satisfactory, although somewhat less than last time.
The next day, reassuring news appeared in the newspaper Le Monde . The old woman had, according to reliable sources, caused the young by asking them to lower their music. The neighborhoods were not as dangerous as want to believe some press retrograde.

Whats Was The Benz Tricycle Car

PRELUDE

On site, no one had ever heard of Norbert Walsung. A technician had even done a search on the Internet, he stumbled upon a few pages, but no relation to a type likely to leave his name to a museum. Everyone did not care, either. For now, it was raining and the mud stuck to boots. Shuttering boards rotted until the router that did not come because the bétonnier had not been paid. Justice had put his nose in the accounts of the project, had not respected the rules of public accounting.
We talked about mega financial scandal, it was said that the type of department that handled the case, one Rocquencourt, did acrobatics with the President that the site restarts. Meanwhile, the foremen were wading in the slurry, such as small children idle in the heart of a rainy autumn. Engineers, huddled in their cabin angrily prefabricated, deletions schedule. A concrete block hanging from a rope, forgotten. The architect was unavailable, hospitalized for depression after an unfortunate divorce proceedings. And the rain drenched all dirt and germs all mutants did not stop, as if the god of weather saw the museum as a blasphemy. Mohammed did not care
Benchetrit Norbert Walsung more than others. He hated France and did not want one thing thing, when he returned back home have raised enough money. But he first had to endure this hell wet, dreary landscape of beams and rusting, boards piled and rails, the greyness of hangars and warehouses, disused chimneys near overpasses where diesels trampled strata of tuberculous graffiti, this sea of cans, scrap and carcasses from which emerged at times, like a dream ship, a cultural center, a multi sports palace, a house associations with glass walls smooth or tubular architecture, with these signs sown logos and carefully studied reassuring that reminded citizens that local Local taking charge of their spiritual elevation.
Here was the North, a world that had fallen into madness long ago, a world where adultery is not a crime nor a tragedy but a recipe to spice up there where girls showing their navel and the wind were to strangers with the approval of their parents, where they grew fruit for the burn under control of a public servant and he needed a hammer to drive a socket because the it was designed to provide maximum security. Yes, in the corn, everything was simpler. Mohammed
Benchetrit was responsible for the work the hardest and most dangerous and nobody could see wrong with it was a normal thing considering the quality of Arab and recent arrivals. That is why we sent for him in the pouring rain, while a tenacious clay covered more than ever his soles, the leather bag stupidly missed a wobbly beam by the Engineer of Public Works State. It was not sadism or humiliation. It was without meaning any harm, the foreman might as well go there himself, but as he was passing by Benchetrit ordered him to get the bag, it was pretty painful because of rain and Benchetrit did not refuse to perform general heavy work since he believed it was his party.
There was just a little clay feet of Benchetrit, it was amalgamated into a sticky putty inadvisable to walk on a wet and wobbly steel beam by a time-soaked twilight showers and gusts of wind.
It was a gust of wind a little stronger than the others who rushed Mohammed Benchetrit a height of eight meters. He died six days later and his body was repatriated in the corn. With this new worries, the site was not ready to leave. The press pointed to the company Giant Construction Ltd., which leads in contracts from the Ministry of Culture of Solidarity, and it was rumored that she had received bribes, kickbacks. This particularly infuriated proponents of a humanistic and interdependent economy, because Giant SA was known for its lax hygiene and safety and supervision practices that bordered the farm.