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''Oh No, It's Raining''
Today's 'Group of the Week' – Maureen,
Jay, Heather, Slammed by 'Local Rules' |
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Paris:– Thursday, 11. March 2004:– Since the weather hasn't been much good since Monday there's no point in rehashing the forecast. The past is past and good riddance to it. As for today, the sooner it's past the better. If anyone got up early enough they would have seen the sun shining. It has been doing this on all mornings when nobody has bothered to get up. Once you're up, the sun is over for the day, and mean breezes blow four–degree air around any place you wish you weren't. Places that you really aren't, are in a wind–shadow. This is the same place that we find the forecast for the next few days, except the shadow is one of credibility. Thus, the following public service announcement is
totally useless. Tomorrow, Friday, is expected to be mostly
cloudy The distant future of Saturday appears to be uncertain, which I'm assuming means 'partly cloudy.' The temperature – ha, ha – is supposed to be 11 degrees. There may be some winds blowing France's pollution towards Britain. Today's first 'artfull' drinks photo.On Sunday, while it's being more or less partly cloudy in the Paris region, 60 kph winds from the southwest will be pushing serious clouds towards us. They may get here sooner than the forecasters predict, so hope that their guess of a high of 13 degrees turns out to be right. Nobody here will complain if they are wrong and it gets to be 14 degrees. Heather Stimmler–Hall has been seeing some other weather forecasts, and she told me at today's meeting – see below – that our odd weather is being caused by a upper–air cyclone twirling out of Siberia. If so, it is a secret being kept from us by Le Parisien and the France–2 TV–weather news. She said she got her information from TF1–TV – but as far as I am concerned this is not reliable source for weather futures because the government sold this public station to private operators about 20 years ago and still hasn't refunded any of the taxpayers' TV–tax money. The One and Only 'Club Report of the Week'When I leave for today's club meeting it is not actually snowing. In principle, it is too warm. In practice, there have been these odd little flurries, which don't amount to anything other than looking like soot from a poorly–regulated sawdust burner. I leave for the club early because Heather phoned me from a Métro tunnel to call an exceptional meet before today's club meeting, to discuss this contest – see below – she dreamed up. We need to hatch the details. So, alors, lo and behold, member Jay Barrios from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, is at the café La Corona in the club's meeting area before I arrive, and Heather isn't. Jay was instrumental in getting the club's 'rules' tossed into the dustbin of history. Back in May of 2000 Jay wrote: "This is a serious matter. Your seminar on Club Member
Titles made my hair stand on end – well it would have
if I had any hair. Didn't the French Revolution eliminate
titles and the heads of those who had one? I hope we can
keep our club members with only At the time club members who hadn't joined yet were sending in suggestions for club 'titles' such as 'Virtual Commodore' and nominating themselves. As club secretary, I secretly agreed with Jay and wrote, "Simplification, I feel, should be the club's goal. The word 'members' to describe members is perfectly okay. It is simple, it is short and it applies to everybody except people who are not." Then I asked for comment from both 'virtual' members and 'real' members. In the club 'report' a week later I felt compelled to write, "Judging from the emails I have received concerning last week's proposal by Jay Barrios to simply call all club members simply 'Members,' I second the motion because the general comment would have been 'no comment' if anybody had bothered to write. "By this, I guess many members were getting very high and wild with dreams of ever more elaborate forms of memberships and outlandish titles, and simply being 'Members' has gotten you all in a snit." Jay finally crossed the Atlantic to join the club as a 'Member' at a meeting in October of 2001. It was at this meeting that Jay passed over the club's hand–carved mascot to the club's secretary. It is a lovely howling hound dog, with dotted eyeballs fixed on distant outer space, or the moon, if there is one – as there sometimes is, in the dog's new position overlooking the Montparnasse cemetery. Before Heather can arrive early, before the meeting starts, James MacNeil arrives from this week's 'City of the Week,' which is Heidelberg in Germany. James left Granada Hills, California – another potential 'City of the Week!' – to take up residence in Germany a really long time ago. Then Heather does arrive, along with members Pedro and Lena – a pair of sub–minuscule Dobermans. Heather did not come straight to the club from doing research for the slogan contest – see below – prizes at Châtelet–Les Halles, but came back from chasing all the way over to the RATP's headquarters near the Gare de Lyon, where they wouldn't even sell her one potential prize. One of a group of unaffiliated American ladies sitting
in the club's area comes over and asks Heather if she can
pat Heather says, "They had seven neat little sponge key–chain things in the window and they wouldn't even sell me one for 70 cents." For Jay's benefit she explains that 70 cents in euros was once about four francs, which seemed like it was real money – while now 70 cents isn't enough for a glass of tap water. Jay, perhaps remembering the howling hound dog on account of Pedro and Lena who are perfectly silent, says he intended to bring a duck he carved. "But it was too cold," he says. Apparently it doesn't get cold in Baton Rouge often, but when it does residents there think they are being attacked by Canada and hibernate until it's over. Heather says it isn't weather from Canada but weather from Moscow. She says she saw it explained on TF1–TV. Tomoko Yokomitsu arrives and overhearing Heather says, "I cleaned out my freezer and there was... something... in there." When asked she says that it wasn't a frozen poison blow–fish. She remembers giving it to the club's secretary. We have, as even new members note, a completely new 'Waiter of the Week.' He is wonderfully rapid in taking orders, delivering orders, and tossing cash machine tickets on the table. He also gives everybody exactly what they want. It occurs to the club's secretary to ask the members if they have any spare one cent euro coins. Stacked up in little piles, they can improve the sound of good but old stereo hifi speakers. While everybody is rummaging through their coin collections, there is a mysterious 'beep.' Continued on page 2... |
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