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The International Writers Magazine:

• Dean Borok
People, as a rule, are not interesting. That’s why they need artists, to make them seem fascinating. Unfortunately, today’s writers and scenarists do not seem to be up to the task of exploiting the rich mother lode of material that is currently presented to them by social life.


Take Bill Clinton, whose epic odyssey between trashy, low-end women would make a hillbilly bar band blanche. Jennifer Flowers, Paula Jones, and the inimitable Monica Lewinski, with her blue denim Gap dress (“It makes you look fat”, advised her confidant, Linda Tripp), without forgetting the supporting cast of buffoons and clowns like Arianna Huffington and the U.S. Supreme Court. Not to mention the Congressional impeachment, which resulted in all of Clinton’s accusers being themselves exposed as serial adulterers by none other than “Hustler” publisher Larry Flynt. If their story is not an epic comedy comparable to “It’s A Mad Mad Mad World”, I don’t know what would be. Lamentably, no writers have yet emerged to creditably exploit this rich vein of madness.

The French have it even worse, French art is strangled by a tradition of formalism and good taste (a term I loathe), which often forces its artists to explore indirect avenues of expression. Of course, up to now they haven’t had access to the rich source material that they currently have at their disposition. Compared with the unbelievably rich sex life accomplished by French President François Hollande, everything that has gone before pales by comparison. This pudgy, ordinary dude has set a new standard for horny French exceptionalism that can only be qualified as epic.

The French public considers him to be “ringard”, a dork, but the class of women he beds is stratospheric. Here in the U.S. we don’t even have an equivalent class of women. His first ex, Ségolène Royal, with whom he fathered four children, herself stood for President while he was the leader of the Socialist Party. She adored him so much that she publicly proposed him marriage on live TV, which he laughed off, and a couple of weeks later he got rid of her.

Her replacement was Valérie Trierweiler, a highly regarded writer for the prestigious Paris Match magazine. When he got elected, he moved her into the Presidential Palace to fulfill the function of first lady, without bothering to formalize the arrangement with anything so mundane as a marriage contract.

Look, the guy’s a genius, OK? He was getting away with murder, defying the law of gravity that says that when you mess around with women, you are going to get a piece taken out of you.

Closer Until his luck ran out, when he got caught two-timing Trierweiler with a sweet, charming piece of actress named Julie Gayet, whom he used to visit on nocturnal jaunts through the streets of Paris on a motorcycle. When the news broke in a Parisian scandal magazine, Trierweiler confronted Hollande in his ceremonial office and allegedly threw a berserk fit, destroying an estimated €3million of irreplaceable vases, clocks, paintings, etc. and subsequently checking herself into a mental clinic in (where else) Versailles. I guarantee you, she was joined by the government curators who were driven out of their minds by the destruction of priceless objects of social patrimony that they were charged to protect.

People used to think Nicolas Sarkozy was risqué, chasing down his ex-wife, Cynthia, in New York and bringing her back to Paris, where she ran out on him again, and marrying top model Carla Bruni, with her leather pants and her guitar. But after experiencing the Socialists, first Dominique Strauss-Kahn and his Times Square blowjob and now Hollande, with all his women, you could be tempted to wax nostalgic for the relative simplicity of the Sarkozy presidency.

What qualities does Hollande possess that makes all these elegant, sophisticated, high-end women want to tear him into pieces like King Solomon’s Baby? Bartender, I’ll have what he’s drinking!

But in the end he done met his Waterloo, and it was a woman. The French public is already calculating the cost of those objets d’art that she destroyed, and it’s going to have to come out of his cheque.
© Dean Borok Jan 26 2014

Love Honeys
Dean Borok

Now that Canada’s Supreme Court has struck down all that country’s prostitution laws, it is only a matter of time...

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