...Continued from page 1

photo, cinema danton, odeon A dozen film salles within 50 metres.

I saw some Netflix movies when I was in New York. Paying a subscription and I put in a DVD and the first thing I see is that message from the FBI saying that they are going to chase me to the ends of the earth. They should change their name to the Hollywood Enforcers. Of course I could avoid all problems with them if I only duplicate Russian movies. But I don't want Putin's guys after me. They have worse stuff than handcuffs.

So at the FNAC I was looking at the big TVs. Some of them are really big. Like small swimming pools. The problem here is that there is no high–definition TV yet. There is digital TV and some of it is free, but HD it is not. Did anybody read that lament last week by the porn producers that most porn stars aren't ready for HD? They all have blemishes and pimples and pock marks, not to mention fake body parts. All that stuff shows up really good on HD TV.

The big TV stations in New York are doing some HD broadcasting. Even their best people – those anchor folks – look at bit wild on the HD. Simple TV makeup isn't good enough anymore. HD TV means seeing ugly in total detail. You gotta ask yourself if it's worth it, paying for one of those big monster TVs, to see ugly. Sweat, hair, blotches, sneaky eyes. Good thing they didn't digitalize smell yet. Remember the whale that exploded?

photo, cafe odeon Saturday night at Odéon.

So in the FNAC, standing around in the incredible heat thrown off by all the gigantic TVs, I was pondering the 42" models and noticing that the plasmas are getting cheaper than the LCDs and wondering whether the Home Cinema is really necessary for listening to Hot Lips do the weekend news on France–2. But what I am really considering is how I can rearrange my modest living room to get in even more than 42" – floor reinforcements? At the very least I will need to order a dumpster and get rid of some of this junk I have – such as the old TV, old hifi, and several generations of computers, printers, books, diskettes, posters, 35mm cameras, IKEA furniture, lamps, tables, boxes, firehoses, plastic bags and my souvenir life–ring from Hamburg.

In a blind fit of determination I bought a cordless keyboard and got out of there before doing anything silly. The métro was a block away at Odéon and there were several hundred younger citizens milling around, waiting for the cinéma, going to the cafés, hooking up – the night was young – it was only 18:00, it would be long.

photo, metro odeon, saturdaySaturday night rendez–vous.

Any other time of day and in any other place three–quarters of everybody has the white buds in their ears. But there, at hook–up time, ears were naked. Look right there, that little kiosque with the sign offering hot wine for 2.50, with the line of the thirsty. One mom and the rest were kids.

But there is one nasty little question concerning these monster TVs. Is there anything worth watching on them? I'm sure last night's news clips of the mass for Abbé Pierre in Notre Dame would have looked wonderful in HD. But how many Abbé Pierres are there? In France?

A bientôt à Paris
signature, regards, ric

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