While cleaning up my apartment I found a letter dated all the way back to 1756. Using my rudimentary Rosetta Stone French 1 skills and advanced investigation techniques, I surmised that this document was in French. It was addressed to the LCDPU (Le Committee de Planning Urban) in Paris and outlined the very serious flaws of a certain French town in the 18th century. The following is my best attempt to translate the words of an angry French citizen, Guy DeparGuy.
Disgustingly narrow streets
I just moved to a small town 58 km north of Paris called Derangier, and let me tell you it is a real mess! This city makes no sense. Firstly, there are no designated paths for horses. These animals and there masters are allowed to gallop in any direction at alarming speeds, often times pushing humble pedestrians to the side forcing them to walk on disagreeable ground. In one instance, a horse grazed my elbow as I strolled, jarring the variety of cheeses and baguettes loose from my grasp. I had to march back to the market…, which I might add is on the outskirts of town! What the fuck is that?! There should be a central marketplace that is easily accessible to all.
Stupid Sycamore Lane
And why are there so many churches? Listen, I love Jesus as much as the next fearful Christian, but I also love cheap whores and booze. A few more brothels and bars would be nice. Furthermore, why is Sycamore Lane such an eyesore? I thought a beautification process was in the works last year. Can we get a shrub, bushel, bonsai, anything to liven up that god-awful center divide? Don’t even get me started on the roundabout at the end of the street. Do I wait? Do I go? Do I just walk in circles until I get tired? Very confusing stuff. Anyway, I’m sure you are busy enjoying my taxes, but I want to see some changes!
Considering a move to Lille,
I know. That shit sucks.
My freshmen year drug dealer once awkwardly sang, “One good thing about music, when it hits you feel no pain.” Bob Marley and this idiot have clearly never been to a modern day house party where every fuckchuckler with an apple product fancies himself the resident Skrillex.
Generally speaking, there are three pillars to a good party: Booze, ratios, and music. Sometimes there is nothing you can do about the lack of females, but if the ratios are there and the BL Limes are flowing, there is no reason the party should not be cracking. Oh wait, there is some thinly dressed fellow plugging in his iphone and choosing…Sigur Ros!? And oh wait; he’s followed by an eager nymph who intends to move hips by throwing on some early Lykke Li?! What the hell is wrong with everyone? These people make good music in their own right, but did Dre and Snoop teach us nothing? They made songs that made even the staunchest feminist shake her ass and scream about getting cummed on. We all must realize, especially those whose thumbs are about to push play that there is music for listening and then there is music for sweating profusely, biting your shirt and grinding up on people.
Only you want to dance to rare flute music.
This message is for real DJ’s too. I have been to one too many warehouse parties and hep shindiggeries where the DJ and their friends are seemingly just trying to entertain one another. “I wonder what will happen if I put on this avant-garde flute record from the 1940’s?” Everyone will hate you. That’s what will happen. I honestly think there needs to be a school for DJ’s. Bartenders usually have to pass a course, why not DJ’s? If 50% of people aren’t dancing on any given night, your suratos are revoked until you learn the basics.
Ziggy Marley once said, “A party which never realizes its full potential due to faulty musical choices was never really a party at all.” Powerful stuff Ziggy. Let’s remember these wise words and be mindful of each other’s good time.