mardi 30 juin 2009

The fabularies adventures of Zach Galou in Great Briton - Living la vida rainy

Zach Galou took is shame with both of his brain's hemispheres and put it in the waste. He went to the table, leaned a bit to see the number, and presented himself: "Hi my name is Zach Galou, but you can call me Zach Galou" said he smartfully. "May I sit at your table?". "Yes" said the girl, "please sit down". "Ok I'll be right back two seconds please", he gave the number of the table and a lot of money to the waiter, and then got back as promised to the table.

"Well, how are you doing?", said he to the girl who had some physical oddness that definitively didn't came to her advantage. "Oh I am in a horrible situation, but I do not want to bother you with that" said the girl. "Well, I have fortunately nothing better to do know", said Zach Galou who was already thinking how to take advantage of the situation to take advantage of the girl. "I have to dispute a competition tomorrow, and both my trainer and my personal coach are unable to attend me, what will I become?", said the blondasse. "Well, what did happened to them?", said Zach Galou who thought that beginning all of his sentence by "Well" and placing the world "actually" in his conversation every twenty second was actually making him look a bit more British. "Well, my trainer broke his arm while he was raising a racket, as for my coach I paid him in advance and he his high on cocaine for three consecutive days now".
"Ok, I see, by the way what is your name?"
"Maria"
"Yes Maria, I think I can help you."

How will Zach Galou help Maria the mysterious blond girl? Will he succeed in mating and making her raise his offspring? What was the exact price of the pizza? You will know the answer to all of those questions just by continuing reading this text.

At the time th pizza arrived. It was a beautiful looking pizza of fifteen, or maybe twenty centimeters of diameter (that is to say in the English unit system, two rat tails and four rain drops). "What the hell is that?" said he rather astonished, "8 euros for a bloody frozen pizza?". At least this is what he would have said if he had not more important matters at hand: convincing the blond girl into doing things that just would not consent by just asking her, well chatting up, that's it.

"Tell me more about what your competition, are you some sort of athlete?", said he wanting to show off with the tenebrous depth of his understanding.
"I play tennis"
"Fine"
"That's it"
"Oh ok, it is a sort of giant ping-pong isn't it? Therefore I think I can give you some advice because I already played ping pong once in holidays. Well it is fairly simple, you just have to follow the ball first with your mind and then with your eyes, run, hit, and everything should be just fine." said Zach Galou while eating his pizza and devouring the girl with his eyes.

How will the girl react to such a stupid statement? Aren't the chance of Zach Galou mating falling as sharply as a sharp?" Well, just continue reading, for the Queen's sake, just keep on reading and you will know all of that.

"No way?!"
"I assure you, I even won one time"
"That extraordinary!"
"Yes...", said Zach Galou who like to flatten himself but was starting to wonder if the girl wasn't doing a bit too much.
"Actually I have only been told to wear mini skirt, fake boobs and to push ambiguous groans while hitting the ball! Is was only that, it is so simple. Oh I am so happy to have met you, what's your name again?"
"Zach Galou", said Zach Galou
"Oh Zach it is so kind of you, how could I thank you for that?", err... the situation is now pepper hot!
"Well in fact I am also very happy to have met you, but I must leave you now, I have some caserols on the fire, in fact I even haven't turned on the gas yet, so you can understand the urgency of the situation", said Zach Galou who wouldn't have a cooker before two weeks at least.
"Oh said the girl, then I give you my number, you can call me anytime"

She then awkwardly used her hands something a bit more intellectual than their regular use and jotted down her name, number and some personal comments "SHARAPOVA, 07438253225 ;) xxx"

Zach Galou stood up, promised that he will call her soon and told her that she could eat the rest of his pizza if she wanted. After a last little sign of the hand towards the queen of his thoughts, Zach Galou popped out of the restaurant and stood steadily on the parking. Something was titling him but he couldn't have said what, wrote the author to maintain the suspense with and overused trick.

Isn't Zach Galou a bit gay at the end? What is the real number of Maria Sharapova? Do Zach Galou really owns it? Where is actually Zach Galou and what had happened outside that will leave Zach Galou thoughtful until the next episode of the fabularies Great Briton adventures of Zach Galou?


dimanche 28 juin 2009

The fabularies adventures of Zach Galou in Great Briton - wait a minute!

Zach Galou entered in the Pub and said "Hello". So far so good. One of the waiter mumbled something behind the bar. The customers seemed to be English: the older they were the larger and the uglier. Ok lets now see the food. He went to the another end of the bar and asked for the menu: "here you are" said the waiter with a bright smile. Zach Galou glanced forth and back on the menu: pizza, burger, kebab, fried chicken, fries (they call this chips), fish and chips and other sample of Indian cuisine. He will happen to know latter that besides the strange comestible experiments that can be found packaged in the super markets at insolent prices, nothing more could be found to be eaten in England beside their din.. er breakfast. As a matter of fact, all of the food that can be found in England is foreign. So far so good, the only trouble with it is that they cook it horribly.

"Ok I'll take a pizza" said he. "It will be 2 arms plus your arse's skin" said the waiter, while typing happily on the till. Yes, lets make a break here to explain the English unit system. The English inherited their unit system straight from the paleolithic, has their habit of driving on the left. So they count distance with "thumb", "feet", "cubit", "a diplodocus tail", and "miles", they count time with "second", "minute", "time to boil a cup of tea" and "hour", the weight are "oz", "pound", "a velociraptor head", "a mammoth", and for prices it is simpler, everything costs your arms and your buttock's peel. I must however precise that there also exists an alternative unit system for price that count in "pound" and "pence". All of this makes me think that if the English do still not use the Euro, it is not as much as a matter of English pride, but rather lack of attention: for this as for the rest, they seem not just to have been aware of the fact that the world was evolving.

But lets get back to the story of our scheming hero. Some seconds later Zach Galou burst out of stupefaction: "But wait a second, I am actually understanding you!". "Of course, I am a foreigner and it is only fourteen year that I live in the UK". "Oh I see, here you are " said he tightening his arms towards the waiter. "You must first give me your table number before paying" said pickily the waiter. "Oh!"

Zach Galou then started searching for a table. The choice was simple: half of the tables were occupied by ugly noisy English, while in a remote corner of the restaurant seated a beautiful blond girl who looked shy and self assured at the same time with a delicate smile.

What will Zach Galou do? Is this last question really a question? And above all who is this mysterious blond girl??


The fabularies adventures of Zach Galou in Great Briton - just a sip then

Zach Galou fell rapidly asleep under the regular clinking of horses' steps. He was unaware of the dramatic situation that was taking place outside. When he arouse, the fright halted his hearth from flowing his already a bit contaminated blood for a few instants.

"Beware you fool!" shouted he. "What are you doing on this side of the road? It is a bloody miracle that all those cars have dodged us until now! Go back to the right lane quick!". But as the stagecoach driver was English he couldn't actually understand what Zach Galou said for he was speaking in English. Zach Galou looked at the cars that were overtaking them, one was driven by a very old woman, the other by a very small woman, the next by a thirteen year old girl, another one by a totally veiled woman, and all the other were actually without drivers nor steering wheel!

For he obtained his brevet des colèges as soon as on his third attempt, Zach Galou was not totally unfamiliar with abstract reasoning. Here was what he was thinking: if all the cars were driving on the wrong side of the road therefore when crossing a road instead of watching first left, then ahead, then on the right, it was necessary to watch first on the right, then behind, then on the left, which was as weird as it is unpractical.

What a strange country thought he, not only the cars were running on the wrong side of the road, bu they also swapped the conductor and the dead's places. In England the sun may still be flying from East to West as the people here can not have their word about it, it is very likely that they walk backwards or eat their dinner at the breakfast.

(Actually I have a theory about that, which is that if the English eat bacon, beans, fish, eggs, ham, sausages in the morning, it is just because the fried eggs are easy to prepare, and the rest of the menu is likely to be the leftover from the last evening diner or last evening barbecue.)

The stagecoach driver stopped the wagon in a service station in order to rehay the horses. Zach Galou got off and went to the restaurant for he was a bit hungry.

Will Zach Galou be stronger than English food? How boring this story will continue to be? Will Zach Galou finally discover (reciprocal) love? You will have the answer to all of those questions by reading his next adventure.


samedi 27 juin 2009

The fabularies adventures of Zach Galou in Great Briton - where is my spoon?

So actually the two guy were just talking, and then the ridiculous small and expensive metro of London arrived. Imagine a tin can with holes in it for the windows and a light tube inside, that is the London metro.

So actually Zach Galou made his trip to Waterloo station without being murdered, raped, arrested nor did anything funny happened. I know that anything funny happened neither in the two previous story, but I am too lazy to write down just one underground trip, which is as uninteresting as the walls are grey and the soil is dirty.

So once arriving at Waterloo station at 13h27 (well, 1:27 pm) to take the train of 13h30. So far so good, as he had thought about that and already made his reservation. So on the way to platform 9 were the train was leaving, he just stopped too make a arm of onor (remember that our, onnest, eir and our do not take a h!) to the people stacking up into the long queue going to the ticket office "you suckers" shout he. He then proudly produced his reservation for the 20th of July, so far so bad, as we were by that time only th 20th of June. The composting-machine rejected his ticket with as surely as a girl would reject him. And Zach Galou remained with nothing else to do than to play a token in a FIFO queue.

The English cashier eventually attended him and assured him with the most unpleasing voice that he could not refund him his 40 euros ticket and throw him at the face "you bloody French bastard why have you come to England, to forbid us eating bacon on fish at the breakfast? go away!". The fact is that Zach Galou didn't understood any word of what the cashier said for it is almost impossible to understand English when it is actually spoken by natives, so he went out rather disapointed at the fact that the guy didn't know to speak English, "we are in Englond bloody hell" thought he.

Zach Galou was thinking back to his problem, how would he be able to solve the TSP he was confronted with? He remembered that it was written in the last part of the adventure, that this would require the greatest stagecoach possible.

He thus went to the stagecoach office, and requested the biggest one. The rent was of 20 pounds an hour. "So lets see how I could use this stage coach in order to solve this problem and bring glory and onor on my h-number?" thought he. Two horses, a driver and a stagecoach, that is quite unusual to solve problem. I was thinking, thinking and sinking. Then he was almost sleeping on the back of the stage coach when he suddenly recalled the end Aliens 4, when Frodo was shouting at a terminator that he couldn't be his father for he had taken the blue pill. A new light of understanding appeared: he was solving a TSP, not and Hamiltonian path problem, therefore he could take the edges as much as he wanted. He therefore shouted to the driver "Hey you the man that whips at the ears of horses, yes you, we shall already be gone, lets move to Southamster!".


vendredi 26 juin 2009

Flash info : Michel fils de Jacques serait mort !

Dans l'attente de la confirmation de plusieurs autres sources confirmant l'éventualité que Mickael Jackson serait apparemment mort, le LST vous invite à revoir avec émotion, les archives de l'année 1993 : cette célèbre bd de Little Endian - paru dans "Super Ninte, le magazine des rêves" numéro 1, pour 3Fr. seulement - retraçant un moment fort de sa vie : l'ouverture d'un parc d'attraction pour les jeunes


Libellés :


The fabularies adventures of Zach Galou in Great Briton - step 2

The problem Zach Galou was facing was clear and required the greatest care* to be solved. He was confronted to the infamous Traveling Salesman Problem: he had to visit two cities that were linked by a single edge. How could he then be able to go back not using the same edge? The riddle was boggling his mind, while at the same time he was already enjoying the moment were he would be able to put on his CV that he had solved an NP-Complete problem!

Zach Galou looked around: where is this bloody edge? thought he.

He had a more concrete problem at hand now: going from St Pancras underground station to Waterloo Station without visiting all the other nodes of the graph. What a mess, thought he. Only ten minutes that I am in England and I already have to deal with bigger problems than I have ever faced in three year of PhD.

He finally found his way to the ticket machine, royally paid his 4 pounds for one underground ticket (that is to say about 5 euros for a trip almost equivalent of going from the Lip6 to Chatelet by taking metro lines 6 and 1 - an gross american would have said that this is fucking expensive, while Galou just thought about one girl who came dangerously close to him). He eventually found the good direction, and then. And then what? And then he waited.

The London underground, the tube how they call it (maybe because of the price), was a place in the whole as clean as the as the station Chatelet would would have not been cleaned for three consecutives days.

While he was waiting he was watching two obviously gay commuter. One of them was a beautiful looking guy, dressed in tight cloths who wonderfully fitted his muscles.

Will Zach Galou become gay as a pinson? Will we be related about the full story of his trip to Southamster as some kind of punishment? Are the mint jelly puddings more awful than fried fish and bacon for the breakfast? You won't know it in the next Zach adventure in fabulous Galou of England for he had tried neither.

*: and the biggest stagecoach possible


mercredi 24 juin 2009

The fabularies adventures of Zach Galou in Great Briton

Zach Galou almost one year after leaving his base camp in columbian Columbia with dry choose and wet socks where now finding himself with dry socks, wet shoes and surrounded by mint jelly. In one word (perhaps a bit more) he was in Ingeuland, the pays of the perfidious albions. One thing was clearly settled in his mind, he came by one of those albions he would crush them on the post.

London at that time was full of horny young girls with a lot of money. But unfortunately he had forgotten to take with him his GHB pills. Beside thatn London was not the place where the duty was expecting him. This fateful place was in fact Southamster, very next to nothing in every direction, but who can flater itself of a big university full of foreign students, that draw considerable wealth to the university. No need to wonder then why, they can afford electronic protection for every door, CCTV even in the work area, double expressos machines, a bus company, advertisements and a plasma screen in the coffee room which is about the size of a conference room.

His French hearth was proudly beating and flowing the yet to be contaminated by englsih food blood almost every where in his body. "Ha!" said he with his perfect whole street accent, "tats inglishis donte nowe deu trou pawer of communism" was he thinking when reminding his beautiful homeland: the faculty of Jussieu, a big university full of French students surrounded by a lot of thing in every directions, and where the library had not even toilets (well at least there are books there, so I won't be too French here, and lets acknowledge this true and pure humble fact).

Zach Galou didn't know yet about all of this, because he was still in London, trying to choppe one of those girls that were flocking around, but his luggages were definitely too heavy and they were walking to fast for his tortoise pace. So long for the girls, but I'll be back warned he, before knowing the price of the alléweu-retoure Southamster-London.

What will happen to Zach Galou in his trip to Southamster? Will be the futur antérieur be used that much the last time? Why was this post as funny as an obituary? You won't know it by not reading the next adventure of Zach Galou in fabulous England.


samedi 20 juin 2009

Politisons un peu ce blog qui en manquait ces derniers temps



Libellés :


jeudi 18 juin 2009

Zak Galou contre Les Frères Bugsmirnov


Parce que sa soif d'apprendre n'a pas de limite.

Parce qu'il n'aime rien tant que se confronter à ses futurs confrères du merveilleux monde de la recherche.

Parce qu'il est tout particulièrement fasciné par cet idéal vanté à longueurs de médiatisation, synthèse de beauté plastique indéniable et de l'esprit le plus brillant.

Pour toutes ces raisons, et parce qu'il est obligé sinon il se fait tatanner la bourse par le rectorat, Zak Galou obtint une invitation pour se rendre au cours tout à fait magistral des frères Gruuikgor et Gruuikchka Bugsmirnov, les deux juments à tête de jumeaux bien connus de toutes les andouilles qui les écoutent sans les regarder (et inversement).

Ces deux géants de l'intelligence distribuée, bacheliers à 14 ans alors que c'est une épreuve grave balaise, d'un naturel étonnant qui s'est barré au galop, ces deux génies de la science que même Fred et Jamy y passent pour des benets à côté, étaient en France pour une série de une conférence exceptionnelle - il était tout naturel que Zak Galou en fusse.


L'amphi Etienne Mougeotte était bondé. Comment en aurait-il pu être autrement, la promotion de ce cours ayant été pilotée directement par le QG de la recherche française, rue du faubourg Saint-Honoré, à base d'annonces mégaphoniques type "morning live" et d'une audacieuse campagne télévisu-radiophonique et d'affichage, rappelant beaucoup la promotion du dernier opus du sphincter vue du fiel ? (Pour ceux qui n'auraient ni voté ni la télévision, c'est ce spot de pub qu'est passé la veille des élections que certains ont trouvé tellement beau et émouvant qu'ils ont décidé illico-pesto-basilic de faire du bio-compost avec les enfants, ce dont on ne saurait les blâmer quand on sait la difficulté à faire pousser des pommiers en plein hivers)

Zak Galou avait prévu de n'assister qu'à la séance de questions-réponses prévues dans la dernière demie-heure du cours - qui devait durer 4 heures - et en profiter pour signer la feuille d'émargement ; las ! il n'arriva qu'une ou deux minutes avant les deux professeurs, qui avaient dû, cas de force majeure, faire un crochet du menton par le service du personnel de la fac, rue du faubourg St-Honoré, afin d'y percevoir à l'avance le parachute doré dédommagement contractuel pour le déplacement.

Finalement, Zak Galou fut plutôt charmé des trois quarts-d'heure que dura la présentation powerpoint - bon, déjà parce qu'il avait déniché une place tout contre une accorte étudiante en sciences humaines, qui s'était inscrite sur un malentendu - nous y reviendrons - et que nous appellerons Berthe. Et puis, il trouvait assez amusant de voir se déplacer sur l'estrade rongée par les mites ces deux mentons sur patte, beaucoup plus petit en vrai que quand ils sont assis à la télé.

Le cours s'intitulait avec modestie : "La vérité sur l'origine du monde", et les frères Bugsmirnov prétendaient traiter ce vaste sujet en trois points :
1) La vérité
2) L'origine
3) Le monde
On n'avait plus vu plan plus plat (faut le dire vite) depuis le plan de jeu de l'équipe de france de balle au pied de ces 400 dernières années.

"Ralala chui dèg', j'croyais que c'était un cours sur Vangogue, maugréa la voisine Berthe après la brillante introduction de Gruuikchka sur l'étymologie austro-papoue du mot "vérité", qui contrairement à ce qu'on pourrait croire ne descend pas du mot "veritas" - et n'a donc rien à voir avec une quelconque société secrète visant à obtenir les moyens de vous faire parler, comme le signala fort habilement Gruuikgor - mais viendrait plutôt du mot "alfibo", qui n'a plus guère d'équivalent de nos jours, mais que l'on retrouve cependant dans certaines expressions de la vie courante, comme : "alfibo aujourd'hui : on va bouffer en terrasse".

"P'tain, c'est vrai qu'ils sont hyper balaise en vulgarisation scientifique, murmura quelqu'un derrière Zak Galou, qui songea à une conférence d'un ancien (prochain) ministre de l'éducation nationale sur le réchauffement climatique, où qu'il avait tout compris de ce que le monsieur il avait expliqué comme quoi c'étaient des conneries le réchauffement climatique et qu'il suffisait d'aérer un peu matin et soir.

"Euh, c'est pas vangogue, c'est Julien Courbet", glissa Zak Galou à sa voisine en espérant l'impressionner suffisamment pour qu'elle lui offre un café à l'inter-cours.
Berthe lui jeta un regard tiède : "T'es sûr ?
_ Sans aucun doute. Quand j'avais 7 ans mes parents m'ont offert un Télérama. Et pis ..."
Zak Galou fut interrompu par Gruuikgor, qui venait d'entamer la deuxième partie du cours :
"Oui, vous avez une question ?"

Notre héros, qui s'y connaissait en comportement estudiantin, joua l'étonnement : haussement des deux sourcils et regard alentour genre c'est pas à moi qu'il cause quand même, la vache je me suis fait prendre.
"Oui, vous là-bas, le chevelu à lunettes, avec la faucille et le marteau !" (il faisait allusion au tee-shirt de Zak Galou)
_ Euh ... héhé ... comment, pardon ? Je .. heu ... euh ...", il commençait à perdre pied mais fut sauvé par un trait d'esprit dont je vous laisse juge :
"C'est cette gouinasse qui essaie de me chiper mes notes !"
L'assistance morigéna Berthe, confuse, qui en oublia de haïr son voisin.
Comme la conférence reprenait, celui-ci jugea qu'il s'en était pas trop mal sorti, mais qu'il aurait du mal à choper ce matin-là.

"Mais dis donc, Gruuikchka, fit Gruuikgor, qu'est-ce que c'est que l'origine du monde ? Est-ce que c'est quelque chose qui fait peur ?
_ Pas du tout Gruuikgor, répondit Gruuikchka, l'origine du monde, c'est le Gang Bang !"
Zak Galou, mezzo-vocce : "Le quoi ?"
_ Mais dis donc, Gruuikchka, fit Gruuikgor, qu'est-ce que c'est que le Gang Bang ? Est-ce que c'est quelque chose qui fait peur ?
_ Pas du tout Gruuikgor, répondit Gruuikchka, le Gang Bang, c'est ce qui s'est passé juste après un moment très précis dans l'histoire cosmisque de l'univers des étoiles, et ce moment, Gruuikgor, c'est le moment de Planck"
_ Il faut savoir, reprit Gruuikgor qui faisait genre il posait des questions alors qu'en fait il savait les réponses, il faut savoir que Jack Planck ne fut pas seulement l'inventeur génial de la fête de la musique, mais bien avant cela, il inventa quelque chose de profondément passionnant : le moment de Planck !"

Zak Galou, pas revanchard, à Berthe : "Hé, il pose les questions alors qu'il connait le cours, t'as vu ?
_ Ben ouais il a déjà dû venir, si ça se trouve il redouble."

"Mais, Gruuikchka, comment définir le moment de Planck de manière simple ?
_ Très bonne question Gruuikgor, mais fais gaffe tu marches sur mon menton.
_ Ah non c'est le tien.
_ Oh pardon.
_ Y a pas de mal."
Il y eut alors comme un flottement dans la salle, les étudiants devinant à l'expérience que leurs professeurs avaient un trou (noir).

"Mais alors, Gruuikchka, comment définir le moment de Planck de manière simple ? demanda Guuikgor en retrouvant avec habileté le fil de sa démonstration, prouvant par là qu'il était pas loin d'être au moins aussi doué qu'un pilote Air France pour le pilotage automatique.
_ Très bonne question Gruuikgor, le moment de Planck, c'est quelque-chose qui fait peur. Je ne vais pas rentrer dans les détails scientifiques très compliqués, mais imaginez qu'à un moment, il y a eu un moment, et ce moment, par rapport au moment qui le suit et qui est juste avant le Gang Bang auquel nous devons d'être là aujourd'hui et je vous en remercie, ce moment très précis qui ne dura qu'un court instant, c'est le moment de Planck."
Il s'en faillit de peu qu'une salve d'applaudissements ne débutât dans l'amphi, devant une telle démonstration.

Puis vint la troisième partie, qui était en fait un pot avec séance de dédicaces de leur dernier livre, que l'on pouvait généreusement acheter sur place.

En bonne position dans la queue devant le bureau où les deux frères dédicacaient en Mont-Blanc, Zak Galou serra Berthe d'un peu plus près que ce que la décence eut voulue ; elle lui décocha un coup de talon assassin dans la cheville droite, le faisant hurler de douleur ("Ouïlle ouïlle ouïlle la vache !!"). Sautant à cloche-pied vers la première chaise libre, il perdit sa place dans la file d'attente et, contrit et meurtri, entreprit de sortir de l'amphi à cloche-pieds, en en remontant les 69 marches.

Au moment où il atteignait la porte, Berthe se faisait prendre en photo entre les deux mentons, et Zak Galou songea avec amertume que décidément, certains jours, il ne fallait pas chercher la petite Berthe.

Libellés : , , ,


Interlude musical



(plus après)








lundi 15 juin 2009

Québeconneries (en musique)

Bénabar version francocacophonie





...






Libellés : ,


vendredi 12 juin 2009

Encore de la musique.

Singuila - incomparable et indispensable, même pour ceux qui n'en ont pas besoin.













vendredi 5 juin 2009

Qui veut la peau de l'A330-Rabbit??

Petit rappel des faits: avion decolu, avion foutu.

C'est à peut près tout ce que l'on sait du vol, contrairement à ce qu'affirme la horde glapissante des journaleux pitistes dont les méthodes d'enquete ne sont pas sans rappeler un canard.

(je n'ai rien contre les canards, mais la comparaison n'a auncun sens, de même que les propos des journalistes, c'est pourquoi elle est tout à fait juste)


Improvisation théâtrale




Juste par pure curiosité, combien de personnes en dehors de la non-équipe de non-redaction êtes vous à lire encore ce truc, je veux dire le blog du LST? Si vous vouliez bien laissez votre nom et votre affiliation idéologique dans les commentaires.


jeudi 4 juin 2009

Un peu de ♫ ♫♫





Les réflexions de la machine à café :

Recent Comments

A consommer avec modération tout abus sera puni, bloguer tue et réduit la fertilité, n'oubliez pas la damepipi a l'entrée etc. etc.