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The famous Spanish bullfighter Ernest Hemingway famously called Paris a movable feast but that was back in the infamously dirty Thirties. How much has the famous City of Love changed since then? Today, I feel, it is more like a movable Big Mac avec du fromage et extra ketchup.

What is Paris to you today? To me it is above all the famous Orly Airport. Where was I? I was in Zurich depositing some gold and visiting that little vixen Vicki. What is Zurich to you today? To me it is mainly a beautician from Berne with buns of steel. Where was I? I was all over her like a rash of course, but frankly it's none of your business. What is business to you today? To me it is mainly what is always was, defrauding widows and orphans.

liminalOyster » Thu Oct 10, 2019 11:19 am wrote:

Whenever I'm in Paris I find it a thrilling experience. Expensive, though.

Paris, Texas is a 1984 road movie directed by Wim Wenders and starring Harry Dean Stanton, Dean Stockwell, Nastassja Kinski, and Hunter Carson. The screenplay was written by L. M. Kit Carson and playwright Sam Shepard, while the distinctive musical score was composed by Ry Cooder. The film was a co-production between companies in France and West Germany, and was shot in the United States by Robby Müller.

The plot focuses on a vagabond named Travis (Stanton) who, after mysteriously wandering out of the desert in a dissociative fugue, attempts to reunite with his brother (Stockwell) and seven-year-old son (Carson). After reconnecting with his son, Travis and the boy end up embarking on a voyage through the American Southwest to track down Travis' long-missing wife (Kinski).

At the 1984 Cannes Film Festival, the film won the Palme d'Or from the official jury, as well as the FIPRESCI Prize and the Prize of the Ecumenical Jury. It went on to win other honors and critical acclaim.

I've only known Paris through film, print, imagination, art, and Colette.



When I was a kid, I loved Gigot w/Jackie Gleason as a bullied, mute janitor and the classic, The Red Balloon and I wanted to live in Paris. We’d moved to Washington where I was landlocked, homesick and heartbroken, so I often escaped through fantasy. On Saturday mornings I’d pack a lunch of cheese, olives, and bread and duck through the fence of a nearby estate to wander the grounds, pretending I was in France.

Not too long ago I heard on a weekly cooking podcast that some non-McDonald-like restaurants Americans (must be some very wealthy ex-pats) are now opening in Paris are being well reviewed and patronized.

Also, it's become acceptable for diners to drink wine with ice cubes (Parisian Warming?).



Due to life’s circumstances, Paris (or anywhere in France) has long been off my bucket list. The closest I got was Paris Virginia, when I would drive past its highway sign en route to a cabin my family once owned on the Shenandoah River. I was especially interested in the town because a MPDC detective had told me that the suspected killer of a member of my family was from Paris (Va). Strangely, the green highway sign with the arrow read “Paris -- No Exit”. I was curious about the town and wanted to drive through but saw the sign as an omen; maybe I’d enter a Twilight Zone episode I’d never be able to exit. So I always drove by.

^^^ yeah, nothing freaky about the carefully selected bones of 6 million people - arranged oh-so neatly - in this place, is there? Move along, nothing to see here.

Oh well, if Paris's underground skulls and bones are to be included, above ground (sorry, couldn't edit out ads...skip to 30 sec mark)...


https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_cont ... 2ET_-pdZaw

this is a great website
https://www.retronews.fr/thematiques

and their facebook page that I follow although I am not a member of Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/retronewsfr/


Interior view of the Morgue in 1845, drawing from a painting by Carré - source: Gallica-BnF
In the nineteenth century, the Morgue de Paris is a place open to all. Onlookers can observe at leisure unidentified remains exposed behind showcases.


Left: Le Grand Guignol at 9:00 every evening 20 rue Chaptal, 1890. Source: Gallica - BnF Right: A poster for The Friend of the Order, a play presented at the Grand Guignol in 1898
From 1897 to 1963, the Théâtre du Grand-Guignol in Paris made thousands of spectators laugh, cry and shiver with its funny and horrible plays. But in the beginning, the owners of the establishment face another nightmare: that of the Parisian bureaucracy


The cartoonists show the corrupt political elite

coffin_dodger » Tue Oct 15, 2019 5:23 pm wrote:^^^ yeah, nothing freaky about the carefully selected bones of 6 million people - arranged oh-so neatly - in this place, is there? Move along, nothing to see here.

It's as though every single person alive at a given moment then DIED within one day to onehundred-and-ten years later, every single one, without exception, and in the meantime they gave birth to new generations of even larger numbers of people, and they too all DIED within onehundred-and-ten years, every single one without exception, during this time spawning yet more generations with even larger numbers all of whom would die without exception, and this march of death and birth and death would continue for hundreds of years, until their graveyards were all full many times over and they were forced to dig up all these bones of the old rotted dead to make way for the fresh dead and keep them in catacombs, and arranged them intentionally in an orderly and even aesthetic way so that they are not all scattered in chaotic fashion. Am I supposed to believe that? This cannot be coincidental, you know. It's crazy! Who are these sick, sick, freaky-sick people? Where else could such madness occur? Paris, amirite? The Devil's Own City!

.

It's as though every single person alive at a given moment then DIED within one day to onehundred-and-ten years later, every single one, without exception, and in the meantime they gave birth to new generations of even larger numbers of people, and they too all DIED within onehundred-and-ten years, every single one without exception, during this time spawning yet more generations with even larger numbers all of whom would die without exception, and this march of death and birth and death would continue for hundreds of years, until their graveyards were all full many times over and they were forced to dig up all these bones of the old rotted dead to make way for the fresh dead and keep them in catacombs, and arranged them intentionally in an orderly and even aesthetic way so that they are not all scattered in chaotic fashion. Am I supposed to believe that? This cannot be coincidental, you know. It's crazy! Who are these sick, sick, freaky-sick people? Where else could such madness occur? Paris, amirite? The Devil's Own City!

Indeed.

(You can skip over this bit, Jack). But for people that are less inclined to believe the official explanations, there are a few clues that things may not be what they seem. Such as, the catacombs run for many, many more miles than the public has admittance to, all of which are lined with bones which remain uncounted. There are only three types of bones present - where did all the other bones go - hundreds of millions of them? They have never been found or accounted for. The bones themselves are so perfectly preserved and free of organic matter that they must have been boiled and the remaining flesh stripped before internment - why go to all the trouble of stripping organic matter from 18 million+ bones? And the ossuary itself was 'forgotten' until the 1810's, when it was suddenly rediscovered and opened as a curiosity. These are just a few of the questions that remain open about this enigmatic place.

Okay, shoot. What do you think? A hidden genocide? Of whom? Or if not that, what else? What might this be, other than the cultural outgrowth of inevitable death-birth-death?

600 years of burying the dead in just one cemetery Saints-Innocents alone, 2 million were moved to there after 1780 rain caused wall to collapse spilling rotting corpses

and other city cemeteries that were way overcrowded and smelling, the Church was refusing to dig up graves for a long time

Some of the oldest date back as far as the Merovingian era, more than 1,200 years ago. That were the bones were coming from





Book your Bedroom in the Paris Catacombs on Halloween Night

https://www.messynessychic.com/2015/10/ ... een-night/