The Rogue Stitch

From Rio:

Zidane y va marquer... Zidane, il a marqué!

OK, so the photo and caption are a bit dated, but what the hell--I thought they deserved to be posted. One last reference to the World Cup this summer, and--in case you missed it--one last link to how the French react when Zizou scores a goal.

Of course, the latest sporting event to hit Paris was the good ol' Tour de France. Props to Floyd Landis for taking home the yellow jersey with a bad hip--and when I say bad I mean in need of replacement bad or so bad that Landis has problems walking bad. So let's see: Americans have dominated the Tour for how many years now? First it was the cancer patient, then the bum hipster--next year it'll be a jaundiced midget with a club foot. Ha! Kapow. Le nain y va marquer!

So the Tour marked the only time that I was on the Champs this trip. And that's just fine with me. God knows I hate Times Square (with the exception made for the ESPN Zone) back in NYC. Same friggin' deal. Did I ever tell you about the time when a tourist asked me where she could buy CDs as I we were standing in front of the Virgin Megastore? I shit you not.







So what else can I draw to your attention to?

My favorite pundit Ann Coulter thinks Bill Clinton is a latent homosexual. Serious. I guess people will say anything for attention. Check out the transcript (which gets even better) or the video from the Big Idea with Donny Deutsch.



You really are something else, Ann.

Murphy's Law demonstrated.

The movie Office Space performed in 30 seconds by... rabbits.

Porkchop sandwiches, curtesy of G.I. Joe.

Gnarls Barkley + Notorious B.I.G. = The Gnotorious Gnarls Biggie



Stop-motion animation is cool--especially when Tetris is involved. Check out JelleVanDun's My Animated World.

What are friends for, right?

Grandma vs. the Mormons. Did I hear a "pigf**ker" in there?

Ok, that's all for now. Only 8 days left in Europe. Two exams over the next two days. And yet somehow I find time to hopefully keep you all entertained. Later.

From the Père Lachaise Cemetery:

Yeah, so the whole global warming thing... 99 degrees in NYC, 95 here in Paris, 98 in Denver.

It's like Hansel out there--so hot right now. Have you any idea how much I hate the Métro in this weather? French B.O. is not meant to be put in an oven and baked to perfection. What does it take to get some friggin' A.C. up in here? Quick, find Al Gore and his magic wand. Make it snow, Al; make it snow underground.

Well, despite the insufferable ride, I made it to the shady confines of Père Lachaise yesterday. Great place. Good company. The Lizard King says hello.





Morrison was easy to find--hell, all we had to do was follow the sound of Gypsy jewelry. It was like a counter-culture hajj I tell ya.

Modigliani, on the other hand, was harder to locate. Such a plain grave for such a colorful character. Was he not the last true Bohemian in Montmartre? (I admit I was distracted by all the crosses surrounding the site before I remembered that he was a Sephardic Jew who died penniless.)



On to the links, hoping they'll help pass the duller moments of the day:

The Big Lebowski: F*cking Short Version

Blender's 25 Biggest Wusses Ever. Note: I am highly disappointed that the good folks at Blender left 90s R&B group Color Me Badd off the list. I mean, look at those guys. [Picture not included, for obvious reasons.]

Trailer to Broken Lizard's latest project: Beerfest. (Yes, this movie will pale in comparison to their tale about the Vermont Highway Patrol.)

Hipster Bingo........ brilliant!

From the U.S. of A-mazing:

Sitting here in Paris, on the eve of Bastille Day, I can't help but miss the States and all the "good humor" that comes with the territory. Now I know most of the recent Stitch posts have read like a travelogue, so I'm gonna revert to classical form here and throw some mindless links at you, hoping to bring a smile to all those faces. Remeber, it's for the kids. Expect a roundhouse kick right to the dome, perhaps a jab at my favorite pundit, something reminiscent of Vermont, and a story about a big friggin' spider:

New drinking game: drink every time the announcer says "Chuck Norris."

and WTF! deadly dolphins?



Gotta love cartoons from 1986 with ruthless Super Ninjas. Get this: in one episode the Claw floods Amsterdam and Chuck flies in to save the day, hanging from his personal helicopter while waiving nunchaku. Turns out Chuck doesn't need a co-pilot (or health insurance for that matter). Oh yeah, there's a clip of the show up on Youtube.

Adam Corolla hung up on Ann Coulter. Priceless. I'm guessing this wasn't the first time some gave her the wrong number.



Bonus moment from the audio clip: Sarah Silverman asking Ann "why such a long face?"

If you have 45min to kill, might I suggest this video clip: How not to get arrested.



Now, I don't which came first--this public service announcement or Super Troopers--but the similarity between the opening scenes is undeniable. Jesus, it smells like Bob Marley's ass in here. You kids been tokin' the reefer, or what?

Ari Gold at his finest. I admit I'm a fan of Entourage--but did they have to make him a Michigan Law grad?! Oh wait, yeah they did. Hugging it out since 2004.



Writer-Director Kevin Smith, aka Silent Bob, talking about his work on Superman Lives before Tim Burton decided to pull him off the project. Jon Peters is a friggin' nut, btw. Could you imagine the film as he wanted it to be?



This is a horse, and these are 34 points by which you can tell it's a horse. This guy, on the other hand, is an idiot and the clip is one sure-fire way to tell that he is an idiot. Thank god most shows have producers, otherwise he'd still be pointing out the bushy tail, the big teeth, and the hooves of a moth. Yes, a moth (which he first calls a butterfly).



Finally, he's no Rachel Ray, no Bobby Flay; he's the Profane Gourmet. You can tell he makes a mean sauce by the guinea 'stache on his lip. Enjoy.

From a Parisian cemetery:

Sous une lumière blafarde
Court, danse et se tord sans raison
La Vie, impudente et criarde.
Aussi, sitôt qu'à l'horizon
La nuit voluptueuse monte,
Apaisant tout, même la faim,
Effaçant tout, même la honte,
Le Poète se dit: «Enfin!
Mon esprit, comme mes vertèbres,
Invoque ardemment le repos;
Le cœur plein de songes funèbres,
Je vais me coucher sur le dos
Et me rouler dans vos rideaux,
O rafraîchissantes ténèbres!»

--C. Baudelaire, La Fin de la journée

Du Stade Sébastien Charléty:

Well, for two hours the stadium was filled with cries of Zidane y va marquer! Zidane y va marquer. By the time I left, there was only crying.

(Actually, there was another chant worth mentioning: Vaffanculo, vaffanculo, Italia! Stitch readers may recall the March 30th post and the connection of that expression to one member of the Supreme Court.)

Of course, the first goal had everyone going nuts. Imagine the French thinking they're going to win the World Cup and then Zinédine Zidane scoring seven minutes into the match. Here's the video I shot at the climax of belief in les Bleus:



There was also a battle royale that raged for most of the second half. We're talkin' French immigrant youths viciously going after each other. At one point I saw some dude attack a paramedic. Yeah, that's f*cked up.



Despite the Zidane jersey on my back, at least I was able to say at the end of the day, "Well, I'm not really French, am I?" Though it would have been fun to be in Paris for another win, I suppose there's also something to be said about making it to class on Monday morning. (yeah, right.)

On to some more photos from around town:



Sacré Cœur, flanked by statues of Jeanne d'Arc and Louis IX (Saint Louis)



St Denis (first Bishop of Paris) shortly after the Romans cut his head off for being "too damn handsome for a priest."



An unidentified CU Law student in the underworld of Paris



The entrance to the Empire of Death, aka the Catacombs of Paris



Bob and Phil



The Richelieu Wing in the Louvre



Cardinal René de Birague by Germain Pilon. (Btw, R. de B. was an interesting guy. Doctor of law, member of the Collegio d'avvocati of Milan. Eventual Chancellor of France. Only become a member of the Church after his wife died in 1572--and yet was a cardinal 6 years later.)



Who cares what their faces look like!

From Harry's New York Bar, Rue Danou:

Being in Paris for the 4th meant that I didn't get to barbecue in the backyard while drinking Bud Diesel bottles til I felt American. Rather it gave me a chance to throw back a Sidecar where the drink was purportedly invented--just like Old Man Hemingway.



Hapy Birthday to the States.

From Paris, the first Sunday of the month:

They say nothing's free in this world. [insert joke here about Tibet and/or sex.] But perhaps they are just cynics in the American bastion of unfettered capitalism, haunted by a puritanical ethos, expecting a buck to be made whenever and however possible. Perhaps they were indoctrinated at a young age, with lemonade stands and paper routes. Well, at least the imprint of socialism in France ensures that, for one day each month, entrance to the national museums doesn't cost a thing.

The Stitch took full advantage of the monthly event today, first hitting up the Centre Pompidou. Now, I'm not particularly fond of modern art in all its forms and guises. But I do like the CP--both inside and out.



Bruno Perramant, Revolution #1



Georges Braque, Grande nature morte brune



Alfred Mannessier, Morte-eau (my favorite)



That is water, btw, and the words are printed on glass.

By the "outside" of the Centre Pompidou I really meant not only the building's facade but the fountain at the Place Igor Stravinsky. This place is money after dark. Great place to take a date.



Next up was the Rolls Royce of Parisian museums. A veritable circus as well on a day like today.



The Louvre's just one of those places. It's so friggin' big, and houses so many masterpieces, that many people overlook the little guys whose names were forgotten centuries ago. So I did my best to focus on the the smaller objets d'art, which basically serve as filler in between major works. Granted I ran through the Denon Wing for old times' sake (and to see Caravaggio's La Diseuse de bonne aventure), but screw The Da Vinci Code and all that has changed at the Louvre since Dan Brown took a dump and called it a book. (As if La Joconde wasn't popular enough!)



















I have more photos to post from the Richelieu Wing--but those can wait. Mostly sculptures. The good shit, not the bullshit. Later y'all.