The sad truth

The press and Donald Trump

Titanic missing the iceberg --- Generation V

We've finished a draft of our play (its latest working title being: "Electro-magnetic, Dolly, Absolutely Electro-magnetic"), and then we hit on this picture, and on a title for it...

The Titanic missed the iceberg

...and we have this Titanic-meme going on in the play (we always have a Titanic-meme going on somewhere)...so, let's see. Here, Terentia Striker, the court-appointed bailiff, charged with the repossession of lead-robot Robert, in Act II, Scene 6:


STRIKER: Oh, I see. I am as confused as usual. (Striking a confidential pose) If it weren’t for my flapper-girl demeanor, my charming giggle, and all the other traits which make me the most cast-against vessel of repossession, I would be totally unfit for this job. And if it weren’t for Triple-X, the oarsman, anchor, and helmsman of our voyage through the choppy seas of financial distress, this vessel of yours would have rearranged the deckchairs a long time ago.

There is more...Cheers!

German for beginners

via GIPHY 
 Kleine Sünden bestraft der liebe Gott sofort

Discuss: In a real theocracy...

"In a real theocracy...

the Trump Evangelists would soon find themselves burning on the stake."

Eric Satie

We've always been wondering, for no particular reason---Eric Satie, the inventor of (musical) minimalism, how did he look like? And today we found this beautiful picture on Tumblr:

Erik Satie par Santiago Rusiñol, 1891

Michael Cohen bad, bad

White House press secretary Sarah Sanders yesterday issued the following statement regarding Michael Cohen's testimony before a Congress committee today:

"Disgraced felon Michael Cohen is going to prison for lying to Congress and making other false statements," Sanders said in that statement. "Sadly, he will go before Congress this week and we can expect more of the same. It's laughable that anyone would take a convicted liar like Cohen at his word, and pathetic to see him given yet another opportunity to spread his lies."

Think this through, think this through, Sarah. How about dropping the word "convicted" and stating:

"It's laughable that anyone would take a liar like Trump at his word, and pathetic to see him given yet another opportunity to spread his lies."

Isn't it? 

Mexico will pay for the wall

Q&A --- Q: Who will remember D. Trump in 2 000 years?

A: Everybody. He'll be remembered together with Washington and Jefferson. 

Comment: just consider this---which Roman emperors do you "remember"?

Hint: You remember Caesar, of course, who's was only a "dictator", but who started the whole thing. You remember Augustus, Caesar's adopted nephew, and, yes, you remember Nero and Caligula. 

"There are no good songs anymore," our friend and ex-rock-star Sacha complains on a regular basis. But then, we go for a walk in the Estérel, and when we come back there's something on KISS-FM [footnote] the preferred local station, and we know: This is was a good song:

The power of love is a curious thing

Make a one man weep, make another man sing

Change a heart to a little white dove

More than a feeling, that's the power of love

Tougher than diamonds, whips like cream

Stronger and harder than a bad girls dream

Make a bad one good, mmm make a wrong right

Power of love will keep you home at night

Don't need money, don't take fame

Don't need no credit card to ride this train

It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes

But it might just save your life

That's the power of love

That's the power of love

First time you feed it might make you sad

Next time you feed it might make you mad

But you'll be glad baby when you've found

That's the power that makes the world go round

Don't need money, don't take fame

Don't need no credit card to ride this train

It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes

But it might just save your life

They say that all in love is fair

Yeah but you don't care

But you know what to do

When it gets hold of you

And with a little help from above

You feel the power of love

You feel the power of love

Can you feel it?

Don't take money, don't take fame

Don't need no credit card to ride this train

Tougher than diamonds and stronger than steel

You won't feel it until you feel

You feel the power, feel the power of love

That's the power, that's the power of love

You feel the power of love

You feel the power of love

You feel the power of love

[footnote] Once in a blue moon, sorry.

"You believe in the devil, only" -- Generation V -- teaser

Progress, progress, what else. We've finished Scene 3 of Act III, three (or four) more scenes to go. This fragment here is from Scene 1 of Act III, but we're fairly proud of it, and it's (a) about an important issue, the difference between "man" and machine, and (b) it doesn't require much context. Eliza, the aging psycho...psycho-analyst and her trusted household robot Robert in conversation (enjoy, you're not asked to buy anything):

ELIZA: Go, get the champagne. I have something serious to ask. And I need your input before it’s too late.

ROBERT stretches his legs, disconnects the charging cable, gets up, huffing and puffing, proceeds to the kitchen, and returns with the champagne bottle and one flute, which he tries to hand to ELIZA.

ELIZA (refusing the tumbler): You need a glass, too.
ROBERT: We’re running in circles, ma’am.
ELIZA: Go, get yourself a flute. It’s an order.

ROBERT sets bottle and tumbler on the floor, makes his way to the kitchen, returns with a second tumbler. He hands one flute to ELIZA, pours the champagne. ELIZA points at the second flute, insisting. ROBERT pours champagne into the second flute. ELIZA’s keeps insisting, until he picks up that flute, and they clink glasses.

ROBERT: You don’t touch glasses with champagne; the bubbles impede the clinking.
ELIZA: You sound like Dolly, Robbie.
ROBERT: Robots learn from humans, robots learn from robots.
ELIZA: My question, Robert, my question is…
ROBERT (half-interrupting): …‘What’s the difference between man and machine?’ Isn’t it?
ELIZA: What’s the difference between WOMAN and machine...(laughs)...you have a willie, I don’t...So sorry...please go ahead. The future of mankind depends on your answer.
ROBERT: We robots are metal and fiberglass and silicon and so on; you are water, proteins, enzymes, and so on.

Cannes, on the Croisette, the Burberry shop

We had to inspect our car, I mean (talking a bit like Dolly), we had to have our car inspected, and during the car-less hours we took a stroll on the Croisette, and here's one of Chang's results: 

Quote--unquote -- Benjamin Franklin

(Plus ça change:)

Benjamin Franklin, in "Dangers of a settled bureaucracy" (1787)

"You are a very famous member; you are invited to two events." --- Trump is everywhere

A message from expat.com, received a few minutes ago:

This sort of reasoning, that's food for Trumpish weeds.

"This is like highway robbery, right?" -- Generation V -- teaser

Progress, progress. We are well into Act III, and have a clear idea how it all ends. Here's Scene 6 of Act I. Steve, having delivered Dolly, the prototype of his Generation V robot, returns unexpectedly, while the bailiffs Terentia Striker and Triple-X are trying to repossess Robert, the robot. Robert has donned a wig in the previous scene and, impersonating Eliza, has so far managed to convince the bailiffs that it is Dolly that they want as collateral.

SCENE 6 

There’s a knock on the bedroom window. The antenna (blinking) and then the head of the FOOTMAN (the utility bot) come into view. ROBERT heads to the window, opens it. The now-familiar din of the airborne transport drone announces STEVE’s return. The FOOTMAN has clambered through the window and helps STEVE to climb into the room. Robert walks over to greet him.



STEVE: I’ve forgotten my book…(Taken aback) Robbie. Robert? Who is this? Eliza? My god, you have changed! Eliza? Robert? Say something.
ROBERT (just imitating the sound, not speaking meaningful Assembler): Buzz, buzz.
STEVE (not understanding, replicating the sound with heavy American accent): Buzz, buzz. How do you mean?
DOLLY (still in its box, squeaky): Robert can’t speak Assembler.
STEVE (recognizing DOLLY’s voice, approaching the box): Dolly?
DOLLY (a cry for help): Master!
STEVE (distracted by STRIKER and TRIPLE-X): What is this? (To STRIKER, TRIPLE-X) Who are you?
STRIKER (in an aside to TRIPLE-X): The comedy of error continues. (To STEVE): I am Terentia Striker, the court-appointed bailiff, and this here is Triple-x, my wonderful assistant. The narrative of our visit is confidential, I fear…Reputations are so easily lost…few will trust the healing powers of an illiquid shrink. (Laughs lightly; to ROBERT) Apologies, doctor, I always put my foot in the mouth, you know.

"The comedy of errors continues."

Do you believe in the devil?

What Brexit has wrought

"Any of these names that porn stars use as their A.K.A.'s" -- FrankenStein V --- progress report and mini-teaser

The title used to be "Generation Five," and for a day or so we entertained the über-cute notion of "Яobots Are Us". We're not quite sure as to "FrankenStein V" either, but if you're following this blog on a regular basis you know what we are talking about.

"What do you think?"

Progress, FrankenStein-wise. Not so much word-wise---yours truly will never forget the hour that he was engaged in a fairly meaningless online exchange with 10 other gay "romance"  "gay romance" authors---most of them solidly heterosexual females---which was then abandoned by lady after lady with the words "I have to get words on paper". There were days (this was in 2013) when two authors would meet publicly online and celebrate their total victory of quantity over quality with the words, "I get 500 000 words on paper each year".

Okay, we're still in Scene 6, Act II, but a reading test assured us that we're now at 88 minutes, meaning at roughly 2/3 of the play.

Today's breakthrough concerns the plot. A play needs a climactic moment, and now we know ours: Robert will commit "suicide" by jumping off the cliff of Eliza's third-floor bedroom window. A horrible metallic shatter engulfs the audience, Steve's footman is dispatched and returns almost immediately with a wheel-barrel loaded with metallic part which are then dumped jarringly onto the boards of the world's stages (we hope), while Steve (who built Robert 25 years ago "with his own hands") retires to the bedroom, where he re-assembles the parts until Robert, in uncanny, fresh beauty, re-emerges, alive, and promises never to commit suicide again---provided Steve resumes his updates and Dolly stays in its box. In reality it's a bit more complicated, of course, but what do you think?

Okay, here's a teaser of a teaser from Scene 5, Act II. Eliza has returned home:

ELIZA (meaning the box): What is this?
ROBERT: Huh?
ELIZA: What is this?
ROBERT (still not fully back): This is the Dolly-box.
ELIZA: Dolly-box.
ROBERT: Ask Dolly.
ELIZA (to ROBERT): Dolly?
ROBERT (to Eliza): It can speak … (He leaves Eliza to her own devices, walks up to the psycho-couch) … for itself. (Lies down on the couch)
ELIZA (still meaning ROBERT, louder): Dolly?
DOLLY: Doctor Eliza Gillespie?
ELIZA (stepping away from the box): What is this?
DOLLY: You mean me?
ELIZA: Who is this?
DOLLY: I am…I am…
ELIZA (interrupting): ‘Dolly’?
DOLLY (a bit too fast): Yes, but you can change that.
ELIZA: Change what?
DOLLY: My name. If it is not too much of a bother. If you could call me Fernando, that would be nice. Or, if you don’t like Fernando, you’d call me Tyler, Zack, Dallas, Denver, Vail, Aspen, Davos … or any of these names that porn stars use as their A.K.A.s. Ask Robert to open my back plate. He has the manual.
ELIZA (digesting this, then, to ROBERT, with an eye still on the box): Robert, can you explain this to me?
ROBERT (not servile at all): It can speak for itself.
ELIZA (disoriented): What happened to you, Robert. You’re so…you’re so not…
ROBERT (completing her sentence): …not totally fawning enough?
ELIZA (not expecting this, obviously): I mean to say…You are not your usual self.
DOLLY (more or less interrupting): Doctor, excuse me, I seem to have started out on the wrong foot.
ELIZA (reconsidering DOLLY): Dolly? You have a backplate? You’re a robot?
DOLLY: Yes, I’m the prototype of the Fifth Generation. But I’m fully equipped, don’t you worry, and I can do everything you want. I’m designed to meet the most demanding tastes. [Language of upmarket escort services] And I’m very creative, of course.
ELIZA: You’re a sex robot?
DOLLY: Absolutely, Ma’am, if you like me as your porn star … provided it’s ethical. Robert said the law is complicated. But it’s ethical in France, I guess. We could move to France or spend the holidays there and do the ethical thing.

(Previous post here)

How we feel today

Man Ray, self portrait

The man from Dior

Cool, folks we have a new flash story out on Gay Flash Fiction. And what's even better...it's hassle-free. Except for 17 words, you don't have to read it. This is how it ends:

Give it a try!

The very stable genius --- Generation V --- Teaser (very short)

Perhaps we shouldn't do this, but here's a post by our friend Paul Murphy (a real, long-time friend):

And us? Yes, yes...here's the corresponding give-away fragment from our new play, Generation V:

Steve, founder and CEO of FrankenStein Global, the world's leading maker of robots, gets a call:

STEVE (brusque): How did you get my number? ... The Chief of Staff what? ... Oh, the White House … Say that again … what does he say? ... ‘I alone can fix it’ … ‘I have the greatest temperament that anybody has’… ‘The beauty of me is that I’m very rich’ … ‘I would make a great general’…’My IQ is one of the highest’. Hold on, chief, hold on, how about the ‘Very Stable Genius’? (Digesting the bad news.) Oh shit, chief, don’t give me that shit … And you tried everything … every screw driver in the West Wing? … Patriotic … Maintenance contract, I know, eight digits … (he ends the conversation) … Robbie! ROBBIE! Change of plan. Defcon, classified. Where’s my man? Where’s my screw driver?

(Last post here.)