Earlier today I was adding an entry stealth-style. That is, every few minutes I would pop up my Diaryland page from its hiding place (the system tray, not a little secret compartment in my desk) and add a few words here, a phrase there, adjust a clause or two as it suited my mood. And my mood was, ya know, not incredible, not sizzling up all the serotonin on my brainy hot plate, but it wasn't that bad. At about 2:00 a cow-orker sent me an email with a link to an irksome David Frum column full of bizarre nonsense about Bush's 'nation building' speech being bold or masterful or something other than a bottle of crap that Dick Cheney shat out and Karl Rove uncorked, and unthinkingly I clicked on it. David Frum's smirky little mug and sycophantic text popped up in the only open internet window. My day of Diaryland was lost, lost, lost. And it put me in an ugly mood. Which put me in mind of ugly people, which is why I wrote about the Bush bunch, phenomenally ugly folk down to the distressing jaws of Condoleeza Rice.

GOOGLE TRANSLATES THE DARNDEST CHOSES ET PENSERS

Interestingly enough, the Google translation of the French phrase 'emission-jeunesse' (youth television program) is 'emission-youth'. That sounds like pretty much the worst superhero ever.

The phrase 'La-Z-Boy' on a French page is inexplicably rendered as 'The Z-Servant Boy' in English. It's all part of the following reasons given by one Rastaquouere MacO'mmune for not watching the popular afterschool Quebecois emission-youth Watatatow:

Firstly, I am not young; deuzio, I do not go any more to the school; thirdly, I do not have a The-Z-Servant boy - adapting to me to my chair of realizer, with my name, approximately writes, on the file -, and; fourthly, the ultimate herm�neutique one, I estimate that this television serial is null to shit.

And here's my favorite, from the same page:

It should be said that, chafouine, the SRC had titillated my sepulchral curiosity while presenting, one week earlier, a trailer in which one could conjecture that the majority of the protagonists of the television serial would perish in a fire (of joy).
Inopportunely, suspense obliges, it will be necessary to wait the next season to know what it occurs of the heroes after the fire of the Spot (hideous nickname given to the House of the Young people of the district). Will they be calcined, or bleeding? It is legitimate to raise the question!

I'm not entirely sure of the translation, but the rest of this very long article looks at each member of the cast and asks the question: if you were Hannibal Lecter, 'the cannibal of reputation,' which one would be most satisfying to eat? In this era of Franco-bashing, I salute the author for asking important questions about young Canadian actors well on their way to promising careers in... Canadian television? Oh Lord, devour them now lest we see them on the next ham-handed Cancon sitcom, overenunciating their consonants and reflecting ethnic diversity.

parode - exode