François de la Nérée

François is one of the many passengers you can pick up in Night Call.

Passidex entries
 - You have met François.
 * This is unmissable. You'll get it upon your first interaction.

 - You have heard all his chronicles.
 * TBA

 - You handed a certain game back to François.
 * You can get this entry during his rant about children and video games . Starts with: 'You sense your passenger is not in a good mood.' and "I'm telling you... Frankly... Some people could really use a slap in the face!"


 * Your intital choices don't seem to matter, however, when he mentions the game about coloured blocks (AKA Tetris), say « That game still exists... »  and then  « You can get the game on your phone. »

 - François wrote a book called 'France in Submission'.
 * You can get this entry during his rant about children and video games . Starts with: 'You sense your passenger is not in a good mood.' and "I'm telling you... Frankly... Some people could really use a slap in the face!"


 * It appears that your choices do not matter - you just need to listen to his rant, regardless of what you say and if you choose to speak at all.

 - François wrote a book called 'I'm a Monarchist, what of it?'
 * You can get this entry during his rant about children and video games . Starts with: 'You sense your passenger is not in a good mood.' and "I'm telling you... Frankly... Some people could really use a slap in the face!"


 * It appears that your choices do not matter - you just need to listen to his rant, regardless of what you say and if you choose to speak at all.

 - You chose to ignore François's comments about the internet.
 * Starts with: "Incredible. Unthinkable, actually."


 * Just keep silent throughout the ride - don't respond to any of his comments. You'll get the entry when the ride is almost over.

 - You chose to ignore François's comments about the justice system.
 * Starts with: 'Your passenger's voice is tinged with sadness.' and "This evening... this evening France mourns."


 * Just keep silent throughout the ride - don't respond to any of his comments. You'll get the entry when the ride is almost over.

 - You chose to ignore François's comments about the strikes.
 * Starts with him distractedly giving you his address and him saying: "Are you bothered by all of these protest marches?"


 * Just keep silent throughout the ride - don't respond to any of his comments. You'll get the entry when the ride is almost over.

 - You followed François to a New York Pizza Pizza.
 * This one takes place during his rant about American bistros . Starts with: "They've really gone too far this time!"
 * At the end, choose to stay and (Watch him.) , instead of immediately driving off.

 - You stood up to François.
 * This one starts with brooding in the backseat. '...unheard of... I'm speechless.' Follow speech with: first choice irrelevant, 'I won't be here much longer.', 'Get angry'.

 - You chose to ignore François.
 * This one starts with brooding in the backseat '...unheard of... I'm speechless.' (same as above). Follow speech with: first choice irrelevant, 'I won't be here much longer.', Let it go.'

 - You think electric cars are good for the environment.
 * This one starts with: he appears to be out of breath. 'Unbelievable.' When he asks you if you'd have an electric car, say yes and then good for the environment.

 - You chose to ignore François's comments about social networking.
 * Starts with: Do you use social networking? Say nothing or let him talk throughout.

Transcripts
'''« Ternes! »'''

You immediately recognise the next passenger getting in your taxi. You never watch television, rarely listen to the radio, you don't read the newspaper, and yet... You know François de la Nérée's face. Polemicist. Novelist. Columnist. Politician, too - you think. Your passenger distractedly gives you his address. You start driving.

'''« Ternes, my good fellow! »'''

The passenger getting into your taxi is the "famous" polemicist François de la Nérée, who you've driven home before. He doesn't seem to recognise you... Actually, he barely looks at you... You start driving.



The Justice System
Your passenger's voice is tinged with sadness.

FRANÇOIS: "This evening... this evening France mourns. She is on her knees; her head lays in the gutter of history."

His voice gets progressively higher...

FRANÇOIS: "What a nightmare."

...and higher.

FRANÇOIS: "How terribly sad."

His voice rings in your ears.

FRANÇOIS: "What a terrible SHAME!"

« What is wrong? »   « Is everything okay? »   (Let him speak.)

TBA

TBA

See below...

FRANÇOIS: "Do you understand what is happening? Micheline is practically walking free! WALKING! FREE!"

« Who is Micheline? »   « Could you please stop yelling? »   (Let him speak.)

TBA

TBA

See below...

FRANÇOIS: "Twenty-two years! She kills her husband and his mistress and finds herself behind bars for only twenty-two years! It's insane! With the current legistation... she'll be out in seven, eight years tops. Eight years for killing not one... but TWO people!"

He is so angry you can see the veins popping out of his neck. He shakes his head sadly.

FRANÇOIS: "I said it once and I'll say it again. France is headed for disaster. How can we possibly expect to eradicate the crime epidemic that has infested our country?"

He slaps his knee.

FRANÇOIS: "We need strict rules. We need strong courts."

And, with a small shrug, as if it were obvious...

FRANÇOIS: "We need to reinstate the death penalty."

He takes a long pause.

FRANÇOIS: "There is no other way to rid France of the cancer eating away at... her... breast."

Your passenger appears flustered by his last sentence and needs a minute to catch his breath.

FRANÇOIS: "What is with these judges who are always calling for forgiveness, redemption, always talking of remorse? Liberals. Always and forever. They disgust me. Make my head spin. ...we need a more clear-cut judicial system... ...where we use our fists not our hearts... ...failure of our courts... ...look at examples of countries where the crime rate is close to zero... ...take action... in-depth... ...bring public executions... death penalty... back into fashion... ...honestly, how can we trust the animal lurking in the dark heart of man... ...and woman!!!"

He underlines this word several times.

FRANÇOIS: "...how can we trust the animal will be judged as it should be, by the laws of nature?!"

Your passenger raises his head and looks at you in the rearview mirror.

FRANÇOIS: "Look at this... this... murderer, running the Paris streets as we speak! The city is stricken with fear. People are afraid to go outside! Afraid to live! None of this would have happened if punishment was permanent, final... with sentences impossible to reduce."

He takes his head in his hands. In a dramatic tone, he exclaims...

FRANÇOIS: "Oh my poor, poor France!"

He dives back into his notebook.

FRANÇOIS: "...forget the guillotine... ...forever soiled with the blood of our fine king..."

FRANÇOIS: "He looks up to the heavens."

FRANÇOIS: "...no, no, we need something else... ...parents should be able to bring their kids... ...it should be an important moment for all... ...Hard work! Bravery! Strong will!"

Your passenger suddenly seems more relaxed, as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. His voice is softer. He speaks to you in an odd voice, like he just woke up from a sleepless night.

FRANÇOIS: "We are too kind to criminals. Turn the other cheek... There's a Christian principle I sometimes have trouble with... We need to bite the hand that slaps us across the face. An eye for an eye..."

« A tooth for a tooth. »   « We'll all lose an eye eventually. »   (Say nothing.)

TBA

TBA

See below...

FRANÇOIS: "A tooth for a tooth. That's my philosophy. We lived by this rule for centuries -- and we need to get back to the basics. Human rights... they're really quite counter-intuitive aren't they? Oddly, the world would be much more just if we simply lived by nature's rules."

He sighs.

FRANÇOIS: "Maybe that's the price to pay."

He glances out the window.

FRANÇOIS: "Just look outside. Look at all the thieves running amuck in the streets... They lose an eye, they'll stay in line, I assure you."

« My sentiments exactly. »   « Or they'll fall on their faces... »   (Say nothing.)

TBA

TBA

See below...

FRANÇOIS: "I don't know how I'm going to manage to fall asleep tonight. Some topics keep me up at night. So, I pour myself a glass of whisky and watch the sun come up over the Eiffel Tower. I have a very nice view from my living room. Unencumbered."

He heaves a sigh.

FRANÇOIS: "The world is in such a sad state."

You pull up in front of his address. He pays his fare and when you are handing him his change, he can't help but continue with his diatribe.

FRANÇOIS: "You seen, we're in the same spot today as we were after the French Revolution. Soon, you will see, a man will rise up and carry away this oversensitive hodgepodge that is bleeding our spirits dry. Then, only then, will a new empire, a Monarchy, begin. Man was not meant to govern himself. It's only natural."

He gets out of the car and walks quickly to his front door. You sit in thoughtful silence for a moment. Your stomach is upset. A bad memory... or a distant trauma. You run a rough hand over your tired face -- the night is long. You can still detect the scent of your passenger in the cab. Musky, sweet and oddly feminine. You drive off.



American Bistros
FRANÇOIS: "They've really gone too far this time!"

You raise your head to look at your passenger.

FRANÇOIS: "I... I can't believe it. They want to... Have you seen what's coming to the neighbourhood?"

You shake your head...

HOUSSINE: "I'm not familiar with the area."

FRANÇOIS: "Well, I am. I live here! And every day, I see it transforming into a veritable quagmire, a swamp of bad taste! Over there, on the corner, was a charming little shop, run by a Greek couple. They sold delicious food from their country! Sumptuous grape leaves... creamy yoghurt... little baklava covered in mountain honey... And now, they're closing! Bye bye Greek shop... And for what? One of those American coffee shops!"

Anger pops up in his voice.

FRANÇOIS: "By gum! As I live and breathe! Piss served in Styrofoam cups! Piss sold to hipsters for a SMALL FORTUNE! And sure, why not add more cream? Go ahead, add some PUMPKIN! Fools! Ignoramuses!"

He grabs his notebook and starts madly scribbling all the ideas coming to him.

FRANÇOIS: "...the world is going to pot! French culture is on the brink of extinction... ...coffee! A pillar of our history... ...our ancestors who travelled to the other side of the world in search of it... ...dead! Buried! Destroyed! Replaced, by American plastic water... ...a great replacement for coffee!"

He suddenly turns to you.

FRANÇOIS: "They will destroy everything. Utter baboon... monsters!"

He gets back to his notebook.

FRANÇOIS: "...I simply... wonder... could Sartre have written his best work in one of these chain cafés, these... temples of hipsterdom?! ...could he have written a single line whilst drinking a... a..."

He nearly retches as he pronounces the names...

FRANÇOIS: "PUMPKIN... SPICE... LATTE!"

His English accent is deplorable.

FRANÇOIS: "CARAMEL... MACCHIATO! STRAWBERRY... CREAM... FLAT... WHITE! Blech! ...what is this barbaric language I am obliged to use when I place my order?! ...and criminy, why in the world must I give them my name?! ...and yet, you say François-Jacques de la N. is too long to put on your disposable cups?"

He catches his breath.

FRANÇOIS: "...the armchairs are too comfy... ...no author can write slouched in shapeless... ...extra cream..."

He rolls his eyes.

FRANÇOIS: "...not to mention the milk... almond... soy... coconut... ...TO HELL WITH MILK SUBSTITUTES! ...new age, liberal freak hullabaloo... ...hare brained ideas from the enviromentally insane... ...I spit on their hatred for cows... ...what could be more patriotic than loving cows?"

He suddenly lifts his head to look at you. There's a moment of silence. He scratches out the line he just wrote.

FRANÇOIS: "...no... pigs... ...France at its finest... cows! ...Bearnaise cattle... the Froment du Léon... what breeds!"

You think you see your passenger licking his chops...

FRANÇOIS: "...ah yes... the... Rouge flamande... ...that's the stuff France is made of!"

A string of drool appears at the corner of his mouth.

FRANÇOIS: "...not milk substitutes... ...not tasteless, sugar-packed coffee... ...not Americans..."

He raises his fist with rage... but abruptly stops himself and starts writing again.

FRANÇOIS: "...the world is becoming... outrageously Americanised... ...whole planets will soon be a succession of gas stations and fast-food joints... ...I dream of bistros... ...I dream of true Sant-Germain cafés..."

He grins as he writes the next words...

FRANÇOIS: "...because what have Americans ever done for France anyway?"

He underlines the last sentence several times. You watch him... watch himself in the rearview mirror... so very proud of himself, practically glowing. You're not far from his destination now. In a whisper, he adds...

FRANÇOIS: "Magnificent."

« The Americans liberated France... »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

FRANÇOIS: "Come again?"

HOUSSINE: "I... History's not my strong suite, but the Americans helped France during the war, right?"

His eyes bug out.

FRANÇOIS: "Yes... yes, of course. They provided logistics and necessary aid, indeed. But did they have to impose their brands on us? Their soda pop and their hamburgers?"

He snickers.

FRANÇOIS: "I'm not saying nothing good can come from there, you know..."

His fingers dance above his head.

FRANÇOIS: "Say, my friend, would you mind stopping here? I have the nibbles... and I know there's a small 24-hour Italian restaurant near here. Please drop me off here. I'll be fine..."

You pull over. He pays his fare and gets out without another word.

(Watch him.) (Drive off.)

See below...

TBA

He crosses the street nonchalantly and walks towards an avenue, still bustling at this time of night. From where you are, you're almost certain he just walked into a takeout; New York Pizza Pizza. You grin and drive off.



Social Networking
FRANÇOIS: "Do you use social networks?"

You're surprised by the question that just came out of nowhere. After a second, you shake your head.

HOUSSINE: "Ah no, sorry."

FRANÇOIS: "Don't be. You are probably one of the last... and I commend you for it. Social networks... I feel nothing but contempt for them. It's all just bar-room politics... dive bar politics, that is! A meeting of vegetarian feminist union! Between you and me, it's hell on Earth."

He sighs.

FRANÇOIS: "Not to mention that they melt your free time away like snow on a sunny day! I spent the whole day arguing with... with..."

He rolls his eyes.

FRANÇOIS: "ANITA69PARIS... GEWINGCHUM... or perhaps it was VELOCIRAPPER."

He seems worn out, exhausted, out for the count.

FRANÇOIS: "They're afraid to use their real identities... but when Aurore Dupin wanted to hide her identity, she didn't call herself AURORE underscore NOT@GIRL underscore 04. George Sand. She chose beauty, splendour. She moved people, caused a bit of a stir... What could possibly be beautiful or poetic about... GEWINGCHUM?"

He pulls out his notebook but doesn't start writing right away, as if a thought were holding him back.

FRANÇOIS: "I don't understand this world anymore. I feel like I've checked out."

He sighs and starts writing.

FRANÇOIS: "...social networks... are stupid, lazy creatures... ...writing nonsense to feel loved... ...contradicting themselves just to draw attention... ...a sort of reaction to a reaction... ...solitude of DIGITAL beings in a world where everything moves too fast... ...a sea of tiny geniuses that can only express themselves through violence... ...evil geniuses... ...full fledged monsters..."

He raises his head. A wave of sadness overcomes him. He stops writing... says nothing.

« Everything ok? »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

FRANÇOIS: "Yes... everything is fine. They're just so hurtful, that's all. They're like playground bullies, no more, no less."

He pauses, recalling something.

FRANÇOIS: "And their grammar... spelling... use of the French language is deplorable."

He snickers, sadly gazing into space. He pauses... for a while. Like something is building up inside him. Right when you are about to say something, he delves back into his notebook.

FRANÇOIS: "...the power, a podium.... in the hands of... mindless idiots... ...completely self-centered... ...one wrong word on a social network and your life is turned topsy-turvy..."

He scribbles.

FRANÇOIS: "..shaken to it core... ...let me be clear... If I had anything to say about it... ...I would outlaw the internet for illiterates and imbeciles... ...minimum IQ requirements... a degree maybe. ...why should a logger need a degree but not a blogger?"

He seems particularly disgusted by the last word. Colour gradually flows back into your passenger's face. His speech speeds up. He loses his temper.

FRANÇOIS: "...who cares if people say nasty things about me! ...I'll say it loud and clear! ...I am afraid of no one! ...we must instate digital eugenics!"

He looks up. You're not far from your destination. He reads his notes and smiles, abruptly becoming warm again. He turns to you.

FRANÇOIS: "Some evenings, you write... and you don't even realise how important what you're writing is until you've written it... These ideas must be heard... They must travel, they must nestle up against the little brain cells of all the men and women of the world! The Internet must NOT take over out lives. Life is far too precious, too important to be run by nincompoops..."

He nods. You've never seen a passenger so proud of himself.

« What was the argument about? »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

FRANÇOIS: "The argument?"

HOUSSINE: "The one you were having all day."

He stares at you.

FRANÇOIS: "Oh. Yes. That argument. I just wanted to buy a bagless vacuum cleaner. So I shared a model... Some thought it was product placement."

He shakes his head and makes a funny little noise with pursed lips.

FRANÇOIS: "Then someone wrote that I was a clown."

His voice gets louder.

FRANÇOIS: ''"So I answered, "Don't get your panties all in a bunch. At least I'm a clown who vacuums! For an hour or two, these little imbeciles kept trying to put words into my mouth in the name of correcting me. Then one woman said I was a misogynist asshole for speaking out against allowing IVF for single women. To top it off, a TV celebrity made a personal death threat, referring to me as -- and I quote -- a circumcised Nazi."''

He pauses and stares off into space.

FRANÇOIS: "Which of course upset the Jews and the Koreans... Come to think of it... I have no idea what the Koreans were doing there."

You pull over.

FRANÇOIS: "I didn't even say anything about circumcision. Some lady did..."

He pays.

FRANÇOIS: "Plus, I ended up buying a different vacuum cleaner."

He sighs.

FRANÇOIS: "I'm tired tonight. If feel... drained."

He opens his eyes wide.

FRANÇOIS: "Drained, yes. Completely and utterly drained. Have a good evening... Best of luck to you."

He climbs out of the car and disappears into the lobby of his building. Just for a second, you try to imagine him running a vacuum... As hard as you try, you just can't quite picture it.

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The Strikes
FRANÇOIS: "Are you bothered by all these protest marches?"

His question washes over you. You forgot that during the day, people were holding protests...

HOUSSINE: "I work nights."

FRANÇOIS: "Ah."

He doesn't know how to follow up... A moment goes by before he yelps...

FRANÇOIS: "Ah! See?! There's not much chance they'd come to protest at 3am, eh? It's not really suprising, actually... they want to make change, but only when it's convenient. Not during vacations, not on weekends, not at night... They make fun of us in other countries. France, the land of strikes! The land of protest marches. This country is filled with jackasses, slackers and simpletons!"

« But they protest nonetheless... »   « I know what you mean. »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

See below...

FRANÇOIS: "What do you mean by that?"

HOUSSINE: "I mean, they take the bus or the train specifically to protest."

FRANÇOIS: "Well yes! They certainly do like to protest... But actually, most of the people on strike just stay at home and don't work."

Before you can get the slightest word in edgewise, he starts again...

FRANÇOIS: ''"Take the United States for example. They have no right to strike! It's do or die!"'

Spit flies from his mouth and disappears somewhere on the back seat.

FRANÇOIS: "And they didn't become the most powerful country in the world by going on strike all the time!!"'

He snickers. His notebook appears in his hand and he begins to write.

FRANÇOIS: "...strike... protest... unrest... ...while business men and manufacturers are working around the clock! ...French people should be ashamed... ...take a look in the mirror... and decide... to change... to do something... ...they expect too much from life! ...they want to have their cake and eat it too... and BITE OFF MORE THAN THEY CAN CHEW!"

He catches his breath. Froth begins to form at the corners of his mouth.

FRANÇOIS: "...and meanwhile, the world keeps turning... ...while the strikers twiddle their thumbs, workers are... working! ...no... struggling to get the job done... that's better... ...idiotic protest marches... ...the Frenchest thing... and the stupidest... ...we have to look the masses in the eye and say... ...you do not own the streets... ...you shall not wield them like weapons..."

He suddenly raises his eyes and looks at you. They are unfocused and his complexion deathly pale.

« Are you ok? »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

Your passenger's gaze wanders somewhere beyond the windshield.

FRANÇOIS: "I... I just remember that... I once marched. It just came back to me like an old childhood memory. I can see it clearly... from Versailles to Paris. I can picture the banners... the songs... and the people's face. There were so many of us... We got up at dawn, thousands of us. And we marched toward the capital. Oure pure and wholesome voices... Rose up..."

His voice shakes a bit.

« What were you marching for? »   « So, protesting is ok then? »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

TBA

FRANÇOIS: "It was a cry from the heart of the right for high-quality religious education while France was being CRUSHED by the weight of socialism! We were being ideologically purged, completely decimated; it was the end of parochial schools. The end of out culture as we knew it..."

His voice trembles.

« Did you win? »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

FRANÇOIS: "Yes, we won."

« So... protesting is ok then? »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

His forehead pitches forward, as if his head were too heavy.

FRANÇOIS: "We weren't being heard... We weren't being respected... Perhaps... you are right..."

A single finger interrupts the conversation.

FRANÇOIS: "But we didn't go on strike! We didn't bother anyone with our banners or our gatherings! And yet... we still won."

He sighs contently as you pull the taxi up along the sidewalk.

FRANÇOIS: "Those were the days. It was a great time. The left was running the country..."

He leans in towards you, like he's about to tell you a secret, with a smirk on his face...

FRANÇOIS: "And I meant the real left, eh...?"

He pays and gets out of the car. You can hear him talking to himself as he walks toward the front door of his building.

FRANÇOIS: "What a lovely night... Good luck to you tomorrow... with all these protest marches, it's going to be a messy one."

He's gone before you have the time to remind him you only work nights. You start driving.

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The Internet
FRANÇOIS: "Incredible. Unthinkable, actually."

His eyes bug out...

FRANÇOIS: "I can't believe it."

« What's going on? »   (Say nothing.)

FRANÇOIS: "Internet... The internet is what's going on! The Internet! Always and forever! Everything is the Internet's fault! It's the plague of our era! It touches all, spares none!"

🠗

He jitters. His pocket vibrates.

FRANÇOIS: "Another one!"

He makes a move for his phone... then stops.

FRANÇOIS: "My cellular telephone is continuously abuzz with... what are they called again? Notifications! I seem to have struck an emotional chord with millions of little web users!"

His voice suddenly takes on a mean and spiteful tone...

FRANÇOIS: "They didn't appreciate my thoughts about social networking and they're letting me know. Of course, they have nothing better to do with their time, right? So they come at me -- with their insults, their name calling... Some went so far as to create pornographic images upon which they somehow pasted my face! They could have spent their time painting the ceiling of a chapel or doing hard labour... but no! They'd rather drag me through the mud. I will take their names and web pages to the police. Ha! They won't be such smartasses in court!"

« What did you say? »   « What exactly is going on? »   (Let him speak.)

FRANÇOIS: "Oh! Nothing at all! They're just kids! Rugrats! Rapscallions! Their only goal in life is to harass... to lambast people like me. They live in another world. Believe me... Another world altogether. Oh no! We're certainly not here to jeer or hit on young... female... social networkers!"

He stutters for the last few words.

FRANÇOIS: "Honestly, what is this world coming to?"

🠗

TBA

FRANÇOIS: "And all because I said a public radio station shouldn't have the right to play rap."

He looks at you with eyes filled with anger.

FRANÇOIS: "Because it's music for idiots! Some have the audacity to tell me it's modern poetry. That's just hogwash. HOGWASH!"

A string of spit squirts from his mouth. It sprays out of your frame of vision. Your passenger doesn't notice.

FRANÇOIS: "Modern poetry is... Jean Vivier-Baudouin. His Cacophony for Flesh Orchestra, for example. Have you heard it?"

(Pretend you have.) (Tell the truth.) (Say nothing.)

HOUSSINE: "I think so..."

Your passenger looks at you in surprise.

FRANÇOIS: "You... You've heard of Jean Vivier-Baudouin ?"

He pauses for a second.

FRANÇOIS: "Well, how about that! Even a taxi driver has heard of Jean Vivier-Baudouin... And those web baboons barely know how to use the subjunctive! Ah! What a lovely surprise!"

He takes a deep breath.

HOUSSINE: "I've never even heard about this poem."

He pauses briefly.

FRANÇOIS: "I'm not surprised -- it's very refined literature. Well, I invite you to listen then."

TBA

He closes his eyes and begins reciting poetry.

FRANÇOIS: ''" "The Earth is a venerable sphere. As it turns on its axis, it shares its thoughts with those who tread upon it. Neither here nor there? Neither here nor they're?" "''

He glances at you.

FRANÇOIS: "Did you get it? He uses "there" and "they're" in the same sentence -- genius."

He jumps feverishly back into his recitation.

FRANÇOIS: ''" "I slide my fingers between your thighs and you ask me here of there and I answer the night belongs to us. But who are you to tell me here or there, hear or their, they're or here, they're in here." "''

Silence.

FRANÇOIS: " "Bis peccare in bello non licet." "

He slowly opens his eyes and repeats the final sentence in Latin, savouring each word as it rolls off his tongue.

FRANÇOIS: " "Bis peccare in bello non licet." "

He sighs.

FRANÇOIS: "How beautiful. How powerful. The vagina as life's vessel, the immemorial matrix of our Judeo-Christian roots. And -- if I may -- a biting criticism of the movement for positive reinforcement that is currently destroying our country. Not a single word is out of place."

He sighs in near ecstasy.

FRANÇOIS: "It's a far cry from that rap nonsense. That "fuck your momma, my ghetto's about to blow" or other such vapidity. They should read a book or two. It would be better instruction than Mary-Jane or motorbikes!"

He pulls out his notebook and starts writing furiously. A few words slip out from between his clenched teeth...

FRANÇOIS: "Yes... That will be my starting point... Title: Rap is the Mary-Jane of the Masses. ...Freedom of expression? More like freedom to say hogwash... ...rap... the propaganda of the projects... mass degeneration... ...communitarianism... ...we need harsher laws... ...we need internet police... ...we need internet prisons... ...put liars in custody... pathological liars... yes, it's better with "pathological"... ...outlaw comments... ...that's where the true liberal extremists hide... ...comments from trans-feminist vegans..."

He pounds his fist on his knee.

FRANÇOIS: "They're pains in the ass! All of them!"

His voice is shaking.

FRANÇOIS: "There you have it! That's what the web really needs: a nice, clean sweep!"

Another fist-bang to the knee.

FRANÇOIS: "Start over with something more wholesome..."

He delves back into his notebook.

FRANÇOIS: "...a world without porn... without hate... without social networks populated by leftist hipsters with their hairy armpits and bushy beards!!! ...what we need is a NEW world... and Australia of possibilities."

He takes a break.

FRANÇOIS: "I can all but guarantee I'll get called a coloniser or invader if I mention Australia."

He inhales slowly.

FRANÇOIS: "You can't say ANYTHING anymore! ...so why keep talking? ...we should rise up... ...go underground... ...and become digital resistants!"

He suddenly glances at you, like he can tell you're listening...

FRANÇOIS: "Not bad, don't you think? They'll love it. It'll drive the commie pinkos nuts! While they're vomiting on our forefathers and our culture, do they stop to think about Venezuela? The Congo? China? Well, of course not..."

He's practically barking...

FRANÇOIS: "Stalin was a great man. And Churchill was a MONSTER!"

He takes a moment to catch his breath... His voice abruptly becomes... sad, almost depressed.

FRANÇOIS: "These whippersnappers don't understand anything about real life and have the audacity to give us lectures over social networks. Who do they think they are, eh?"

He puts his notebook away and heaves a lengthy sigh. You pull up in front of his place -- a classy Haussman-style building. Quite some time passes and your passenger does not seem ready to budge.

FRANÇOIS: "It's funny when you think about it... comical, really. I met my last lady-friend online."

« Ah? »   « So, it's not all bad? »   (Let him talk.)

FRANÇOIS: "Yes... yes..."

FRANÇOIS: "Oh, it mostly is!"

TBA

FRANÇOIS: "She ran a website showcasing a very, very private collection. Souvenirs from..."

He stops speaking and shakes his head.

FRANÇOIS: "I sent her an..."

He tries to retrieve the word for a few moments.

FRANÇOIS: "E-mail. I sent her an e-mail and we began corresponding. Our exchanges quickly became seductive in nature and we spent entire nights writing feverish missives to one another... She also liked Sibelius... The Frenchest of Finns."

He smiles.

FRANÇOIS: "Anyway."

You can see sadness in the creases of his handsome face. He clicks his tongue.

FRANÇOIS: "Yeah."

He pays and exits the car. He suddenly grabs the door... he turns back.

FRANÇOIS: "Be careful out there... Bis peccare in bello... non licet."

He walks away without another word.

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Children and Video Games
You sense your passenger is not in a good mood.

FRANÇOIS: "I'm telling you... Frankly... Some people could really use a slap in the face!"

« Everything alright? »   (Say nothing.)

FRANÇOIS: "Well, of course everything is fine. Everything is just fine. Juuusssst fine. No problem at all."

FRANÇOIS: "A slap in the face. Yes, indeed, sir!"

He pauses.

FRANÇOIS: "You'll see what I mean! Tonight, I was invited over for dinner by a good friend who works in television. Her 12 year-old son dined with us. First of all, if I may... is it really necessary to have children at the same table? But I digress. All evening, the young fellow... the child... No, I say child, but his nose was already peppered with pre-teen pimples and he had a pathetic patch of peach fuzz above his upper lip. Anyway. The child spent the ENTIRE evening with his eyes GLUED to a tiny screen... a tiny screen with buttons on each side..."

« A video game? »   « A phone? »   (Say nothing.)

FRANÇOIS: "Why yes, that's it."

FRANÇOIS: "No, no... Or maybe so... I know nothing about those things."

TBA

He flits his fingers in front of his face like he is trying to swat an invisible fly.

FRANÇOIS: "It's of no matter. He did not answer a single question."

His voice becomes extremely high-pitched.

FRANÇOIS: "He didn't even ask me how the launch of my latest book France in Submission was going. Not a thing. What's more, he was sitting RIGHT NEXT TO ME, of course..."

He pauses. Your passenger is in full rant mode.

FRANÇOIS: "He spent the whole evening on that damned... video... game. What a moron. What a generation of morons! Each and every one of them!"

He starts writing in his notebook, mumbling all the while. A few words reach your ears..

FRANÇOIS: "...consumer society, life of leisure, pleasure, self-centered... ...and they stretch their legs out. What are they getting so comfortable for? I ask you this... ...want to be superheroes, muscle-bound warriors, princesses, Chinese ninjas... ...yet what are they actually doing with their lives? Their sole purpose is to consume..."

He pauses.

FRANÇOIS: "That's just it. They're going to love it."

He dives back into his notebook.

FRANÇOIS: "...tomorrow, France, will become a battlefield... Too strong. ...tomorrow, France will become an overgrown field of idiots! Good-for-nothings... ...capable of nothing other than pushing buttons... ...I'm led to believe there are a finite number of neurons... of brain cells... ...not only in each man's brain... but on the whole planet... ...and that this GREY gold if you will, is being wasted on wireless screens, tablets... ...mill of idiotic children... ...factory of degenerates... ...designer of morons..."

Your passenger suddenly stops writing. He stares aimlessly outside.

FRANÇOIS: "Tell me, my friend."

Your hands clench the steering wheel.

FRANÇOIS: "What did they call that game again? The one with the coloured blocks?"

Before you can answer, he raises his hand to stop you.

FRANÇOIS: "Don't worry, I've got it."

He stares into space again...

FRANÇOIS: "It really was quite addictive. I mean, it was simply coloured blocks you had to line up and put together. It made the lines disappear... I never cared for the Soviets -- but I must admit they outdid themselves with that one!"

He pauses. Your passenger slowly realises he is contradicting himself.

FRANÇOIS: "Anyway, I stopped playing right after... right before I wrote my book  'I'm a Monarchist... What of it?'  1989 was quite a year. The crowds were incredible. And of course, I never had to dine right next to a pea-brained, snot-nosed brat!"

His anger slowly subsides. You're getting close to his destination.

« That game still exists... »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

He seems interested. He slowly fixes his hair and puts on an exasperated look, like he doesn't get what you're saying.

FRANÇOIS: "What do you mean, "still" exists? » Of course it still exists! I'm sure there are entire libraries dedicated to these ASININE video games, are there not?"

« You can get the game on your phone. »   « Yeah, sure. »   (Say nothing.)

FRANÇOIS: "What do you mean... on my phone?"

You pull up in front of his door.

FRANÇOIS: "Are you saying this game is available as a cellular phone application?"

HOUSSINE: "Yes."

He takes a long pause.

FRANÇOIS: "Interesting. I'll have to look into that... Yes, some in-depth research, liket I did when I wrote that wonderful book on the Papuans. It's amazing how much information you can find on the Internet without actually having to go to New Guinea."

He pauses.

FRANÇOIS: "Or was it Papua New Guinea? Who knows...?"

You pull up in front of your passenger's home.

FRANÇOIS: "A civilisation entirely comprised of idiots and the mentally deficient!"

He pays his fare.

FRANÇOIS: "A country filled with morons run by the stupidest left-wing government in the world!"

TBA

When getting out of the car, he trips and catches himself, barely. He slowly stands back up, checks to make sure no one saw him and walks toward the entrance to his building.

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