The song was a huge hit in the seventies. Most people still remember the tune and the words, such as:“encore des mots, toujours des mots, les mêmes mots, rien que des mots…” the woman sings, while the man blathers on about how beautiful, unforgettable, unique she is, how his love, eternal, etc.
A typical male-female standoff, and applicable either way – women blather as much as men do. However, the song came to mind because of words, words, words flowing at us from the politicians. Someone in Britain referred to Cameron’s jibe about the “bunch of migrants” as “trickle-down hatred”. There again, the trickle seems to work both up and down, with the politicians only too happy to mouth whatever seems to raise their rating in opinion polls.
Since politics are mostly a matter of symbols, I won’t waste too much time on analyzing the background to Christiane Taubira’s decision to quit the French government now, nor in her choice to leave office on a bicycle instead of in a limousine. Symbols. Words. Simply put: some words ring truer than others. I’d rather disagree with someone who can quote poetry at the National Assembly in support for a piece of legislation I happen to approve than watch words being devalued as they fall from the lips of people who don’t deserve the noble name of clown.
Voilà for this morning’s news commentary.
Meanwhile, a proto draft struggles on in the chinks of time between phone calls and meetings. Sometimes, words are like keeping a kettle hot over a small fire – a different matter from brilliant displays in public places. But all that’s good stays good, especially warmth during cold times.
Just ordered something called zaï zaï zaï zaï because deadpan humor appeals to me. I don’t know if this was the cartoonist’s intention or not, but zaï zaï zaï zaï happens to be a melodic trope from another song from the seventies – this one by Joe Dassin. My upstairs neighbor loves Joe Dassin’s songs and massacres every one of them with a dedication so fierce the screeching sometimes stops me cold in whatever I’m doing. Her respect for melodic lines is such, she never even comes close to them. Think Catherine Frot in the film Marguerite. (Don’t know the actress nor the film? Check out on a search engine for a taste of the art of singing off-key.)
*French for Words, words, words – not conditional release from a jail term. Although …