THE NEWS THAT CELEBRATES DISTINCTION (EXCEPT BETWEEN BROTHERS AND SISTERS) - 28/11/22
Patricia is proud to announce that November is over.
And now November is already drawing to a close. The month that I dreaded so much when I was a child for its length, its darkness, its cold, has just passed me by at the speed of Jérôme Kerviel's career. Now everything passes too quickly, and I don't even have time to get bored or find time long. I now treat November like May. Does climate change have anything to do with it? Does the fact that I can have drinks on the terrace and go out at 6am in a T-shirt to go running have anything to do with it?
Well, I don't think so. I just think that with time, everything becomes better and more enjoyable. Even chicory with ham must be good. I haven't touched it since the fourth grade, but I bet the smell wouldn't make me puke today. November is like a kind of doddery old uncle that you didn't want to see when you were a kid because he spent all his time getting drunk with his father, but that you regret when he gets eaten by maggots. November isn't really a bad month, it's just that it seemed so interminably scary when we were barely as tall as beer kegs. So it's time to let this month go, which comes from the Latin november meaning, don't leave your son hanging around if you don't want him straightening his hair with a Babyliss.
So today we're going to celebrate Louis CK's birthday. No, I'm joking, I'm not Blanche Gardin. Unfortunately for my husband, who would be laughing so much harder at dinner in front of his dull sausage/mash. So no Louis CK because, and this has nothing to do with the scandal, he's never made me laugh. I don't know if it's because of his scatty, unfunny, vaguely trashy jokes that always miss the mark, or just because he undermines himself like a plumber running for Twitter president. In short, we're not celebrating Louis CK but Cathy Moriarty. Why? Because it's her birthday. Because it's her birthday and because she made her big film career debut as the female lead in Raging Bull. And Raging Bull is no mean feat. Even if this film annoys me terribly because I find it aggressive and unpleasant. An ejaculation of testosterone. And in the middle of this explosion, there's this loud-mouthed platinum blonde who lights up Scorsese's black and white. And it's no small thing to stand up to de Niro and Pesci's clown act. Especially when you're just starting out. After that, she went on to work with John G Avildsen, Joe Dante and James Mangold, to name but a few. A career made on tiptoe, and therefore feet that I would have liked to make shoes for. But it's only a postponement, and I'm certainly already doing so in the multiverse.
They were in Paris yesterday and will be at the Olympia again tonight for a superb, colourful visual show, with a special mention for the drummer who gave it his all: