humility, humour and ugly americans

on the pleasure of trolling parisians

un petite kish, et du cafe avec… milk?

The man behind the counter rolled his eyes muttering something about “Moe Dit” followed with a much more hatefully, almost ominously grumbled, “American”.

Boy, these Parisians sure are stupid. They can’t tell an american from a Canadian.

Yep, I am american, I replied, and if it weren’t for us, you’d be speaking German right now you pissant.

All of a sudden, his English improved. Needless to say I had to find another Cafe. Finding another cafe in Paris? Talk about mission impossible.

Parisians on the whole seemed to be an arrogant, humourless people - ESPECIALLY the men. Given that I was there to study a style comedy rooted in humility with a Parisian man, my choices as a remarkable fool seemed to check out.

In reality? I love Paris. I also love playing the villain. That’s a big part of being both charming and unlikable. The Bouffon,¹ delights in offending and caustically, viciously pointing out the hypocrisy of society. They do this with charm and hu…