France is filled with French

Good thing you ignored that rambling borefest of Walter's on crumbling buildings or whatever. Maybe you're ready to handle my insights.

French and their dogs:
who's leading who?

So when the Master said we were going to Paris, I thought I was ready for anything. But who knew this overblown monument-hole would be packed wall-to-wall with the French? It's not just one or two, oh no. They're everywhere. It's insulting. Oh, and their precious dogs! Sidewalks, supermarkets, metro trains-- it doesn't matter. Let them run free. Bring cheese! Bring wine! Let us pay hommage to our canine lords!

To top it all off, everyone speaks this prancy language composed of a series of mumbled slurs. The mumbles themselves are governed by a maze of rules designed to expose anyone who can't mumble in the approved fashion. Un baguette, s'il vous plaît. At this point any French within a mile's radius will be falling over themselves to point out that a baguette is feminine. Vous voulez une baguette, n'est-ce pas? To them, this fact is blindingly obvious and they will probably pass out if you question the female nature of a stick of bread.

These men are imposters. Or
more like imposters of imposters.

But I was almost ready to accept the presence of the French here. That is until these two wise-guys decided to get a free ride off the Walter and Wayne media success with their third rate ripoff Le monde de Walter et Wayne. I've had my share of imitators, but this guy is horrible. Note to you: I AM 10 YEARS YOUNGER AND NOT BALD. A letter from my lawyer wiped the smile from his over-aged face. On the other hand, the Walter guy is pretty accurate -- especially the part where he's looking to the Wayne for guidance.

Pierre and Claire.
Or Claire and Pierre?

The upshot is that the Walter et Wayne legal battle has kept me from my usual groundbreaking life for the last couple of months. But I can tell you about the Master. As Walter attempted to explain: when he arrived, the Master stayed at a university residence for the first month while looking for a French family to stay with. No family was found, but he did find Claire and Pierre who were also students looking for an apartment. We all moved into the apartment here in Ivry-sur-Seine at the beginning of October. Oh, and of course they had to be French. Unbelievable.

CULT.

The Master also insisted on getting involved with the GBU, some sort of Christian university cult. For proof of their bizarre rituals, go no further than the photos page. There's also some shots from the apartment-warming party and the latest GBU gathering. University semester rolls on at Sciences Po. Highlights include presenting the "dingo's got my baby!" case in French, and not being able to go to university because of transport strikes.