THE NEWS THAT THROWS EVERYTHING OUT THE WINDOW ONTO THE WORLD - 02/12/22
Patricia is proud to present her new kick-ass passion.
In 22 days' time, you'll be sitting opposite people you love deeply (or not) to celebrate Christmas. People you love deeply because they brought you into the world. You don't love them because they took your mother's or father's place when, as a child, you didn't ask for anything and they came to pollute your innocence. Some have used a whip to gain acceptance, while others, more subtle, have used an emotional crowbar by showering you with gifts to make the next day easier. For people who have been unkind to you because of their narrow-mindedness, you need to dazzle them with all your might by putting on your luminous Patricias. Imagine that the person you don't like is stingy with the leg of lamb and you blind him with glitter. The poor guy would end up with his chin in the gribiche/spermine sauce while you triumph in your healthy revenge, pieces of truffle stuck between your glittering teeth. And for those you like, put on your shoes in the same way, because between people who love and respect each other, it's a good idea to share your good tips and let them benefit from what touches you at the deepest level. What titillates your soul and makes it dance in the midst of pure springs: Patricia!
Anyway, on December 2nd 1983 the video Thriller was broadcast. I remember seeing it on a Drucker programme that was broadcasting the event. He made a big deal out of it. The whole idea was to attract viewers at a low cost. And I was feverishly waiting for the broadcast on my grandparents' red velvet sofa, devouring an over-sweetened industrial rice pudding that caused all my teeth to decay. It was at that moment, deep inside my micro-me, that I started to bubble over and hatch my plan. I was going to make my desserts all by myself like a big girl, like a Maïté 2.0 who tears up everything in her path. I waited patiently for my turn and for yoghurt makers worthy of the name to arrive on the market, but also for me to be able to afford them. Now that it's done and I've got my Seb, I make rice pudding that surpasses anything you'll find anywhere in the shops or from those TV chefs. Besides, what good has ever come out of this brain-destroying luminous screen? We agree.
But let's not stray too far from the subject of my yogurt maker, which is nailing you to your seat with your jaw slammed to the floor. What do you mean Patricia has a yogurt maker? Well, yeah, and what's more, she's become so good at making choco custards that she's wondering whether she'll give up shoes in favour of new delights and open a stand at the Fair. So really, who cares about Thriller, because the real issue in the world at that moment was how to get out of the industrialisation that the world is handing us? I can see you coming along with your €2,500 Isabel Marant clogs: "Yes, OK, you make your own yoghurts at home, but what about the milk and cream? They're industrial, aren't they? ". Well, no, actually. Because I've equipped myself by adopting a cow I've named Billy, who gives me extremely soft, silky milk thanks to all the attention I give her. Not many people know this, but I have a masseuse come in twice a week to look after Billy and give her shiatsu treatments. Billy, quite simply, has become my BFF and has replaced my boyfriend in many ways. So now you know that I'm self-sufficient in milk. Well, not completely, because I depend on Billy. But I'd rather depend on Billy than on Mamie Nova, Danone, Nestlé or any of those behemoths that pollute not only our groundwater but also our intestines and colon. Today I'm in the yogurt business, and who's to say that tomorrow I won't start building a yurt so that I can be totally independent and look at the world with peace of mind?
Just so you don't get Phoenix every time, here's a talented little guy (now big) who succeeds at everything he touches: