One reason to like the French

January 6, 2006 at 10:28 AM | Posted in Uncategorized | 4 Comments
This is going to be a bit obscure, so hang in there, okay?
A long, long, time ago, back in the 70s, the magazine "Heavy Metal" came out for the first time.  I was young, like pre-teen to early teen, and my Mom got me a subscription to it.  She never saw the magazine, but the fact that it came with a brown wrapper over the cover was a clue to me that I had hit a gold mine–of ideas, stories, and animated bare breasts.  I haven’t seen what the magazine is like lately, but back in the day–WOW.  I remember many stories and series, and many characters.  One story in particular, I don’t remember the name of it, but it wasn’t ‘Den.’
In reference to the title, this was written and drawn by a Frenchman.  Most of it was probably over my head.  It involved a young woman, in her early 20’s, but she was short and flat chested, so she looked like a pre-teen.  In a futuristic society (of course), and she had built an android.
By the way, let me get on my geek terminology soapbox.  Robot is a generic term for any mechanized intelligent machine.  Android is the specific subset of machines made to replicate the human form.
So this android had the appearance of a large, muscular human male.  For simplicity, she programmed him with three emotional states:  love, hate, indifference.  Some might think this is 2 1/2 more emotions than real human males have.  I tend to agree.
But I remember a specific instance where, following the series, and reading the letters in the magazine as well, the following happened:  There was a scene where the girl and the android were approached by a young girl selling flowers.  The android reached out and grabbed her hand with the flower, and crushed it.
Letters of outrage followed, many by mothers who had the sense to censor what their young boys were reading.  The artist had a chance to respond, and he said, if you lived in France, you would know that you couldn’t go three feet in a crowded open mall space with being accosted by someone trying to sell flowers like that, they are a pestilence, and what happened is what actual Frenchman only dream of doing.
I’m really not sure of what my point is here, except that I remember this from thirty years ago.  But I’ll add a potpourri here.  I have several things floating in my head, what do you want to hear about next?
a) there is a short list of 3 or 4 people that I actually hate.  I can tell you about each one I remember
2)The time I got robbed delivering pizza
d)some theories with very inappropriate sexual content.
See, even though this is my blog and I have freedom, and I can put down what I want, there are some things I didn’t want to put down, for fear of alienating people.  Call it self-censorship, or a little sense of right and wrong, or simple tact.  For instance, I have many strong political opinions, and this is not the place for them.  I have been toying with the idea of a separate blog for those, anonymous from this one,, but it seems like a lot of work, and I am  lazy.  And the sexual-reference content is probably not any more harsh than a comedian at a night-club, but I am aware of my audience, and you shouldn’t throw out the x-rated stuff when most of it up till then has been pg-13.
Or if if there is something else you would like to here about, the time I lost my virginity, the time I got it back again.  The time when I was 21 and living with a 40 year old woman. . . .It was a very interesting year. I was hoping to write about the current, as well as reminisce about the past, to make this blog a true journal.  Eventually, I may have enough to print on paper in an actual book.  What I really wanted to concentrate on is my 20 years in foodservice.
Of the many manager meetings we had, once a year we would have a big meeting, with all of the managers in the region.  So we would go around the room and introduce ourselves.  (oh, it gets worse, but that’s for another time.)  By this time I had been doing it for 13 years.  I had been a driver, assistant manager, manager, assistant again, manager again, might have left, came back as an assistant, and here I was a manager again.  Everyone goes around the room, and there are a few veterans like me.  Many new people, some who had been with the company almost two years, and here they were a manager already!  Impressive!
Then it gets to me.  I stand up.  "Hi, my name is ‘Bubba" that’s a Dominos specific name, I dont get called that much anymore"–and I’m manager of store 1539, Berkeley.  I’ve been with the company about ten years.  Anything you think you seen, or done, or heard of, or had nightmares about, has happened to me twice."
I left the company again shortly thereafter, and returned once more, but only as a part time driver.  We had a technical term, MIT, manager in training.  The culture created another term, for someone who was on their way out, if they were lucky.  MIR–manager in retirement.  The manager I worked for at one time had three ex-managers working for her, as drivers.
This article has made no sense.  Maybe I should rename it. Or maybe it is subliminally appropriate.


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  1. i WOULD write a nice long drawn out comment to your recent post… but my mood bites butt today… so I shall just leave you with the fact that I AGREE : "maybe it is subliminally appropriate."

  2. hi..its Narcissistic..i guess u knew me..the writtings n my space are not mine..but that deosn\’t mean that am not creative or whatever…i write alot, but seriously i don\’t have the courage to put them n public or maybe i don\’t like to have my very private stuff in the way,i will do what you have asked me to..cuz its a good idea..and thanks anyway 😀

  3. another good reason to like the french is that god created brigitte bardot..ummm. and great pastries, too.

  4. You have ADD, don\’t you???

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