“Re/Pleasures” Chronicle
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Monologue of the text of the rules of the game of the Fifth Republic, which is tired of being manipulated by the various political camps. While these parties want, according to their interests, to make this Constitution an ally or to revoke it.
I am the French Constitution and since the dissolution of the National Assembly dreamed up by that prankster Emmanuel Macron, everyone wants to give me their arm, if not twist it. I am a middle-aged lady with conventional morals and moderate desires and I do not understand why they pull my sleeve all week and on Sundays too. I am tired of all these solicitors who yell in my ears to get my approval. And I wonder what interest the French political class could possibly find in hanging on my coattails or giving my Birkenstocks a kick. I was considered an old fart, and they were not wrong. See how I refrain from peppering my remarks with expressions like “in real life”, “so” or “too good”, which Generation Z delights in. I am content to bellow a sidereal “it’s lunar” when it goes too far and there are no more limits. And now, at every turn, I am summoned to the news channels’ stages. And now, at every turn, my authority is evoked, that of the old lady who was previously silenced and made invisible. And now, the most equivocal Satanists want to hang themselves on my neck, if not get married
