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That brought the score for my cultural tour to three or four or five, or more if I count historic street signs. Sunshine was playing in the avenue on the way back to Denfert as I passed some more historical stuff, mostly private houses, built out in the country in the 19th century. I guess, not terribly historical, and none of them open, and that was another patrimony weekend for you.

The Latest Café Metropole Club 'Report'

The last report about the most recent Thursday's club meeting was headlined quot;Has Anyone Seen 'D–Coils?'" This was a remark about shoes that have coil–springs and shock absorbers built–in, but did not refer to any member's shoes. As for why or why not, I am none the wiser, other than it's another catchy headline.

The coming Thursday meeting of the Café Metropole Club will be on a Thursday yet again, right in the nick of time. The Saint's 'Day of the Week' will be Saint–Maurice. This saint du jour was a Roman officer who refused to sacrifice to any one of hundreds of Roman Gods before combat. A basilica was built where he was bumped off and it has become a town called Saint–Maurice today.

Vague facts about the club can be picked from the carcass of the 'About the Club' page should your fingers happen to be in that region. The drippy design of the club membership card looks about as much like butcher paper as brown tarpaper. So true, hors d'âge, the club membership itself is vitally brilliant, while being so worthless you could hardly want to give away for a song.

This Was Metropole One Year Ago

Issue 9.38 – 13. Sept. 2004 – this issue's Café Metropole' column headlined 'Dinner at Eight for Eight.' The week's Au Bistro column was absent. So was everything else except memories, with 'A Little Stroll on the Boulevard Saint–Michel,' 'A Place With Headroom, the Place de la Concorde,' 'Jacques Melac's Grape Harvest, all Welcome At Street Picnic,' 'Down and Out In Paris, Orwell's Fact or Fiction?' and 'School Reunion Complete With Falling Chestnuts.' The Scène column finally made it with 'More Fall Program, Repeated.' The update for the 16. September meeting of the Café Metropole Club was cheerily antisocial with the 'Fighting Elephants' report. There were four wunderbar 'Posters of the Week' and Ric's weekly cartoon was also underground with the beginning of fall caption, "Ride the Métro!"

This Was Metropole Two Years Ago

Issue 8.38 – 15. Sept 2003 – the week's Café Metropole column was outer spacy with, 'The Giant Sunball & Techno Über Alles' The Au Bistro column had exciting news with 'Hot Issues – Three Old, One New, One Forever.' Somehow there was a column by Larel Avery titled 'Eclairs and Existentialism.' There seems to have been no dismal repeat of any Scène columns. None were listed as contents. The report for the Café Metropole Club meeting on 18. September was reprted as the 'Wanted' Poster' report. There were four graphic classic 'Posters of the Week' and Ric's Cartoon of the Week was the wildest of all time with the caption "Why? Why? Why?" Can it be true?

Silent Movies

For the 27th time almost in a row with only one skipped week, this is not about some dusty old saint, but instead is a thoughtful 'Quote of the Week.' Charles Chaplin, who was bared from returning to the United States on this day in 1952, once said, "I would love to play the part of Jesus! I fit it perfectly because I am a comedian" Next week right here, as a special feature, the 'Silence of the Movies' will be in Swiss.

If the Past Is Any Indication

Today marks the date in 1900 when Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid pulled off their first robbery together. In 1884 Cassidy, whose real name was Robert Leroy Parker, was a cattle rustler and legend says he gave cattle to the poor. However he turned to banks by June of 1889 and hit the San Miguel Valley Bank in Telluride for $20,000. He spent a couple of years locked up for stealing horses and then organized the 'Wild Bunch,' which the Sundance Kid joined. His real name was Harry Longabaugh. After a four year spree of bank and train robberies, Butch and Sundance hightailed it to New York where they shipped out for Argentina. In South America they continued their gringo–style laissez–faire capitalism, until they were riddled with bullets in San Vicente, Bolivia, in 1908 or 1909, just like in the movie. But there is doubt that their corpses really are Butch and Sundance. They might be in Uruguay or have phoney names in Idaho.

Old, Shipwrecked Patapsphysics

It was not on this date in history that the New York Times published its first edition. It was yesterday, in 1851, under the name of New–York Daily Times. The upstart company was founded by Henry Jarvis Raymond and George Jones, and the first issue had the following statement of purpose; "We publish today the first issue of the New–York Daily Times, and we intend to issue it every morning – Sundays excepted – for an indefinite number of years to come." In 1896 Alred Ochs took over the paper and gave it a new and snappy slogan, "All The News That's Fit To Print." When the paper moved to a tower on 42nd Street, the area was named Times Square in 1904. The Times sold the tower in 1961, and its annex on 43rd Street is still called the annex. In 1920 the Times ridiculed the idea of space flight – what could a rocket push against? – but printed a correction after the moon landing in 1969. Many liberals believe that the Times isn't liberal enough and may even be blue–tinged, while many conservatives believe that the Times is a red–soaked Commie rag. In fact, until color photos showed up, the Times was gray.

Faits Divers

In 1356 the English beat the French, actually, squashed them, at Poitiers. It's the first big battle of the Hundred Years War. While it might still be going on, in 1440, Jeanne d'Arc's faithful companion Gilles de Rays gets arrested and charged with killing hundreds of young boys. He is called Barbe–Bleue. Another hundred years on, in 1551, Henri II and Catherine de Médicis have a third son, named Alexandre–Edouard or Henri III for short, who become King of Poland but before he can get into it is recalled to France to replace Charles IX, his brother. Henri is often criticized for having an overly complex personality and exercising misdirected affections, but is not really a Barbe–Bleue.

Hardly 'Important Dates of the Week'

There are only 103 days left of this year, which means this year has already run out of surplus sandbags. This is exactly the same number of 'days left,' as at this time in the year 1783 when the Montgolfier brothers got their balloon to fly carrying a rooster, a duck and a sheep in front of Louis XVI and the whole court at Versailles. The event is remembered as the first flight of a duck without using its wings. This is completely unconnected to the fact that this year has used up 262 days, the same number that 1870 had when the Prussians began the siege and bombardment of Paris. Gambetta led the Parisians who tried to break the encirclement, but they were unsuccessful during the siege that lasted five starving months in the winter cold.

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