Bastille Day, Bitches

This year, we here at WDR decided to have one kickass party for Bastille Day. Why? Well, we don't really need a reason to have a party, and in fact usually come up with a reason for having the party after the party has already taken place (oh yeah, we were totally having a kegger because it was Flag Day!). Well, at least that was the plan. Joe instead decided to go hang out with his girlfriend (one of many) since she was leaving for school--I mean, what a namby-pamby wuss! And actually, we didn't offer Mr. Zhuang an invitation. We just kind of assumed he was dead--at least until he commented on the Coldplay post last week. Now we don't know what to think.

So, in the end we did jackshit for Bastille Day. Instead, I took the time to honor and reflect upon someone great who was celebrating a birthday the same day. That's right, I'm talking about Tony Kornheiser!



Friends know that though I watch a lot of television, it's mainly a rational decision I've made that was the result of careful deliberation between several options of what to do with my free time. However, there are a couple of programs that are required viewing, and Tony's "Pardon the Interruption" is one of them. They're arguing about sports! It's genius! It's gold, Jerry, gold! Of course, it seems that Tony is intent on ruining my summer vacation by not showing up for work--he's had a substitute host in his place for the past three weeks, so we're kind of not on speaking terms for the moment. Dammit, I need my penguin dance!

But this all has nothing to do with the French. So I decided to come up with a list of my favorite French New Wave films, and here it is:

1). Truffaut's The 400 Blows
2). Godard's Breathless
3). Umm...I think that's it. Wait, no, I got one! The Talking Heads' Stop Making Sense

It was at the third item on the list where I realized that I had no idea really what the hell French New Wave Cinema really is (though I have found the term in French, "Nouvelle Vague", is way hilarious to read). Nor did I particularly care. I soon became lost in the wonder that is David Byrne's Big Suit, as I watched Talking Heads clips on Youtube.

So Bastille Day was a big bust. I just hope Laetitia can forgive us.



And if you think all this was just a reason to post a random picture of a hot lady, well buddy...we need all the visits we can get. I wasn't going to mention this to you, but WDR is in serious...nah, I'll tell you another time, probably when you're older. Just remember to blame Joe--he's way better at this random non sequitur stuff than I am.

Boom Goes the Bastille Day!

That's right, today was Bastille Day (not my Mom's birthday, I got that cleared up way ahead of time this year). If you don't know what Bastille Day is all about, it's the day when the French celebrate their independence from the Dutch, I believe, which was around 1952. I seem to recall Toucan Sam playing a significant role in this as well, though I don't think you should quote me on that. And it had something to do with the liberation of the South American corn crop (or as the Indians call it, maize (insert slow-waving hand gesture)) and taxes on Sweet 'n' Low, a beloved part of French cuisine.



How did I celebrate? Well, I know some of the neighbors decided that today was as good a day as any to get rid of some of those leftover Sparklers, but I refrained from that. Sure, I spent my usual Saturday "alone time" and "doing nothing in my room" (that may or may not have involved this lovely Frenchwoman (but definitely did not involve this guy)). No, my celebration consisted of eating some shitty fajitas (truly the fa-JIH-tas version of the dish) with some Coronas, like a true Frenchman. Then I went and saw...



Yippee kay-yeah, motherfucker! Whoo boy, I was ready to feel like a red-blooded fuckin' American today (even with only PG-13 level of violence and language, which just feels unconstitutional goddammit).

Well, that was the plan. I ended up getting lost in Maryland looking for the goddamn movie theater, but I did get to see the Discovery Channel's headquarters (which looked more like Initech than anything). So I headed back into town and decided to catch a taxi to another random movie theater. This one wasn't playing Live Free or Die Hard, so I saw instead the one movie that I'd been dying to see for weeks, Knocked Up. It was, as they say, a good decision. Hilarious as all get out. (Note to the people who complain that abortion was "glossed over": if there was an abortion, there wouldn't have been much of a movie, now wouldn't there have been? It would've been kinda like Alien without the space monster, no?) Anyways, I recommend it, and I'll probably be quoting it in the future.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves. Getting back to the original topic, let us take some time now to remember the ideals of the French Revolution:

La granouille mange la pamplemousse

err...Liberté, Egalité, et Fraternité. See, I learn things sometimes.



It's a celebration. At least for an hour on the West Coast. But if that isn't enough, do stuff tomorrow. It's what the French would've wanted.