Saturday, February 17, 2007

Tupac France.

You may or may not know this, but zee French are mad about hip hop.
Prounounced: "Eeeeep - Op". (The French are too cool to pronounce the letter H. )

I found this little gem while on my way into the local shopping center to buy a baguette.


The only thing funnier than seeing a pimply-faced French kid driving a pimped out ride with a lawn-mower sized engine, is seeing a French thug-mobile complete with a Tupac Shakur decal pasted on the back windshield.

Now that's Gangsta!

And on that note, I will leave you with
Kamini. The latest French rap sensation. I never get tired of watching this video.

"J’viens pas d’la cité mais le beat est bon."

Saturday, February 03, 2007

Quel Horror! No Smoking?

One would think that the French government had passed a ban on breathing the way these whiney Frogs are going on about the new smoking law.


And even though the ban only affects most offices and other public buildings, people are going on and on about it as if it was a step towards communism. Next year when the total ban goes into effect for bars, cafes, restaurants, hotels and casinos, I may have to leave the country for several months until the official whining period has ended.

Last night on the news I saw on older gentleman on the street being interviewed about his thoughts on the smoking ban. Halfway through his tirade, his eyes welled up with tears and he became so overwhelmed with emotion, that he threw his hands up in the air, mumbled something about the "end of civilization as we know it", and then dramatically turned and sauntered away.

Oh la la...........quel théâtre!


Now, as an ex-smoker, I sympathize with his sentiment. Let's face it. Smoking is as much a part of French culture as wine and overly indulgent foods. Will the French even be French without all the smoke? For Christ’s sake, even the French Football God Zidane smokes in public…and during the world cup no less!


The French simply don't understand the concept of second hand smoke. Bringing up the subject of second-hand smoke with a French smoker is like bringing up the subject of evolution at a Baptist barbeque. It never ends politely. The French just aren't quite convinced that it actually exists.

I cannot even begin to recount how many times I've seen mothers driving their kids around town while simultaneously puffing away inside their hermetically sealed mini-vans. Or my favorite weekend shopping scene: a French father puffing away on a Gauloises blonde with one arm, while holding an infant in the other.


Quel horror!