Wednesday, October 24, 2007

I Want Candy

It is understandable. It was scandalous to show all that candy to the Atkins generation. But Marie Antoinette was not booed at Anorexics Anonymous, but rather at the Cannes Film Festival, the New York Times Readers Reviews Online and places frequented by the Cult of the European Beret. Come to think of it, there was probably not enough sex for them in the bloody movie. Hardly any, actually!

Loosen up, darlings, don't look like you've got candy stuck up your Arsch! It's a movie, not Au contraire: A Revisionist's disdain for the French Revolution.

(Well, it sounds like a volume that Nova Publishers should publish – a trilogy: Egalite', Fraternite', Sexualite'.)


We spent a few days in Paris recently. We stayed right at the Place Pigalle, a minute's walk from the Museum of Erotic Art on one direction and from the Dirty Dick Club on the other. Two minutes from the Moulin Rouge. We walked along a street with numerous sex shops every day. Inspiring as this setting was for our private life, it threatened our sense of reality. One morning we spotted this complicated bodice/belt in a shop window, in some dirty skin color, and complete with elaborate fastenings and buttons. Roufa's eyes twinkled, “Look how kinky!” he exclaimed. The shop was actually a pharmacist's. The belt was an orthopedic back support.

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