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Postcards from Paris

Contact Loulou de la Paumardiere

Suddenly I could smell triethylamine, the smell common to fish, semen, the hawthorn plant and menstrual blood. So I looked at Carla, but, wanting to remain discreet, whispered:  “N(CH2CH3)3? ”

And she said ??.

So I turned to His Holiness and said “N(CH2CH3)3?”

And His Holiness looked surprised and, as several little Brazilian acolytes and underage Congolese novice nuns spill out from beneath his soutane and run away into the darkness of the garden, went “Et3N?”

And I said nothing but gave him this look that clearly said Why did they come up from out of in under there for?

And then the Pope leered at me with this expression that meant like Are you prepositioning me?, pulled out a small hawthorn bush with a fish in it and said “What?” with his injured innocence voice.

And I said “I just want you to tell me something, Holy Father. When you were still just plain Joe Ratzinger and not yet the Pope back in 2002,  did you actually slap ABC reporter Brian Ross’s hand when he tried to ask you some questions about your covering up the pedophilia epidemic within the Catholic Church? http://web.archive.org//abcnews And back in the early sixties did you really help write the official Vatican damage control document that orders secrecy about and cover-ups of the pedophilia industry within the church itself and which is still in effect?http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2003/aug/17/religion.childprotection

And he gave me a stare so cold you could have hung meat in; you’d have thought I had left the umlauts off of Mötley Crüe. Then he slapped my face and I went Ow! and he said Nihil est. (It’s no big deal.)

And I said Your Holiness, excuse me but you’re speaking Latin.”

And he rolls his eyes and goes: Vah! Denuone latine loquebar? Me ineptum. Interdum modo elabitur. (You’re kidding! Was I really? How silly of me. Sometimes it just sort of slips out.) 

And as I saw he wasn’t going to snap out of it, I said “Nihil est?” (No big deal?)

And he repeated Nihil est. "Natura haec mihi praestat. (“Nature gives me these things.”)

And I said “Quod ‘haec’? (What ‘things’?”)

He grabbed his crotch and repeated in low-life Latin: Natura haec mihi praestat. (“Nature gives me these things.”)

So I was like: “Non intelligis te, quum hoc dicis, mutare Nomen Deo? (Don't you understand that this means you’re saying that God actually is Nature?)

And he goes  Tua  honestate dignitateque confide, sed quid enim est aliud Natura quam Deus, et divina ratio, toti mundo et partibus eius inserta?  Quoties voles tibi licet aliter hunc auctorem rerum nostrarum compellare,: hunc eundem et fatum si dixeris, non mentieris, nam quum fatum nihil aliud est, quam series implexa causarum, ille est prima omnium causa, ea qua caeterae pendent." (Believe in your own values, but in fact what’s Nature if not God and  divine intelligence that  permeates the whole universe ? Whenever you want, you can give another name to this Maker of all our things: You wanna call Him Fate? Fine! Fate’s nothing else than a  succession of coordinate causes whose He is the first cause upon which all the other depends.”)

And I rolled my eyes and I go Tua  honestate dignitateque confide, sed  nihil curo de ista tua stulta superstitione. (Believe in your own values, but please spare me your harebrained mumbo-jumbo.)

And he goes in this like real sing-songy voice: Te audire no possum. Musa sapientum fixa est in aure. (I can't hear you. I have a banana in my ear.)

And I say “Et in dentibus anticis frustum magnum spiniciae habes,”(And a big piece of spinach in your front teeth.), but I was just kidding.

And he rolled his eyes and goes like : Nihil est, magister mundi sum!  (Big deal: I’m  master of the world.)

And I’m like “Intellectus?” (“What’s that supposed to mean?”)

And he goes between these like clenched teeth “Audio mihi, meretrix. Homo est quo dammodo omnia. Inter se geminos audes committere cunnos mentiturque uirum prodigiosa Venus. (“Now you listen to me slut. In a certain way man is everything. You can rub two cunts together and keep your gigantic clit working overtime as a fake cock, but you’ll never be a guy.”)

And I’m like “Obligatior viagrum.” (“You should do standup.”)

And the Holy Father blew this like huge pink bubble with his gum and it popped and he sucked it back into his mouth really loudly and without even looking at me—so stuck up—goes “Quisquis.” “Whatever.”

And then we had to take the Pope back to the airport and he said “Lovely, we can talk as we drive and thus as we say at the Vatican “rip out two aortas with one meat-hook,” and an aid spoke to him in Italian and he said “I’m sorry, the expression should be ‘to smash two skulls with one rock.’”

As president of the European Union until next July, and what with America now being, as Nicolas says, permanently out of the way, and France having won a Nobel prize for medicine and another for literature, Nicolas wants everyone to be more French, especially foreigners. It was in my bed at 60, rue de Varenne that he came up, in 2003, with the idea of a ministry of immigration and national identity and that law that makes it a crime to mock symbols of the state such as our flag, our national mascot the rooster, fashion icons Chanel and Louis Vuitton and of course our sanguinary national anthem. That is why he just went through the roof when he saw the way all those French kids booed the Marseillaise the other day during the France-Tunisia football game(http://www.youtube.com/watch?) And Nicolas said you have to know when to put your foot down, and I thought well that’s one thing I certainly know how to do, like at the Halloween party here the other night when we were all standing around drinking Frogs in a Blender and one of my children said please maman could she and her friends watch something called Nightmare on Elm Street and I looked at this Freddy Kruger character on the DVD case and said “I’ll not have my children giving themselves permanent nightmares from watching any movie featuring a monster who looks that much like Julian Barnes.” 

Now these young anthem booers, “the scum,” as Nicolas has famously called them, would do well, he said in a speech yesterday, to learn from les enfants de bonne famille (children from good families), good families in France meaning “unindictable.” The scum would do well, Nicolas was saying, to look to people like France’s brilliant entrepreneur, polo player, playboy multimillionaire and heir to the Hermes luxury empire, Mathias Guerrand Hermes. And then of course as luck would have it, our delightful friend Mathias got arrested the same day on an Air France Paris-New York flight for having innocently tried to bully a woman sitting in first class, then her husband, who came to her defense, then the stewardesses who came to their defense, then the captain of the plane who came to everyone’s defence and Matthias grabbed the captain’s balls with one hand and tried to hit him with the other, and finally attacked totally the wrong guys in the shape of three gay Air France flight attendants who work out a lot,  and they of course tackled him and handcuffed him to his seat and poor Matthias spent the night in a New York jail and a spokesman for the Hermes fashion house  chuckled and said “Boys will be boys” http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news but I must say that I know Matthias well and he is the gentlest soul one could ever hope to meet. I remember attending his wedding (to my darling friend Valesca Dost) in 1999 here in Paris and how it spilled over into a five-day orgy in Morocco my God what fun and the wedding guests took over the Mamounia and trashed it completely, and at the end of the second day one of Matthias’ servants, a young local woman, apparently asked if she could leave early as her child, who was only about a month old, was ill and they brought the infant to Matthias, who looked gorgeous in black tie,  and he held it by the ankles like a doctor delivering a newborn and everyone laughed and laughed and then his father Patrick, still in his polo togs, whispered something to him and Matthias started laughing and then smashed the child’s skull against a palm tree and bayed “Looks like mommy won’t have to go home early after all,” and Florence van der Kemp, who at 90 looked lovely and was there with her boyfriends, a blond twenty year old and some middle-aged wretch named Francois-Marie, laughed apoplectically and wheezed to Matthias “You naughty boy, h ha hac hack hack,” and everyone simply howled with laughter and then danced and sang until morning when Matthias wrote the young mother a check right there in front of everyone at breakfast for four hundred dollars which was more money than she’d made in ten years working for Matthias and his generosity and caring and concern for others truly knows no bounds.

One role model is, however, not enough.  So Nicolas has gone on a French identity rampage, which is why he recently told a French court to annul the marriage of a Muslim couple based solely on the husband’s claim that the wife was not a virgin http://www.laviedesidees.fr/Virginite and denied citizenship to a Moroccan woman who wears a burqa http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2008/jul/12/france.islam, on the grounds of "insufficient assimilation" into France, and " excessive submission to men.” On the same day, a Moroccan man who regularly beats his wife to make her submit to his sexy French wife fantasy was awarded French nationality and a signing bonus that included a boxed set of Victor Hugo and a Peugeot 502 that plays Run for Your Life, the Beatles’ bouncing ode to uxoricide, when he honks the horn.

© 2008 Louise de la Paumardiere





About LOUISE DE LA PAUMARDIERE It would be difficult to imagine anyone more purely French or a better embodiment of France and French values than polyglamorous Louise de la Paumardiere. Loulou's paternal great grandfather Andre Le Troquer, unfairly removed from office as President of the French Senate in 1958 for having run a pedophile network, and her maternal grandfather General Paul Ausseresses, unfairly stripped of his rank and thrown out of the Legion d'Honneur because of his role as a torturer in the Franco-Algerian war, are but two of her many famous ancestors. Author of From Foreign to French: 100 Makeovers in Stories and Pictures (New York and London: PLB Books, 2006), multi-talented and multilingual Loulou de la Paumardiere first came to public attention when several of the high-profile Paris-based foreign women on whom she performed makeovers committed suicide. Her family operates the majority of the uniquely French institutions known as Centres d'aide par le travail, or CATS, factories in which handicapped French citizens are employed at less than minimum wage because, as Loulou puts it with her typical Cartesian clarity, "they are handicapped." Her ancestral home, Château de la Paumardiere in Boilly-sur-Gui, an hour from Paris in Normandy, has hosted every head of state since Louis XIV and was a favorite haunt of Lully the Sodomite. She continues that great tradition of French hospitality on weekends in Boilly and during the week at her luxurious mansion at 60, rue de Varenne in Paris.