The American election results are depressing, but I won't share my opinion on the topic because it is not original at all. Since I don't actually know anyone who voted for Bush I am assuming that anyone who reads this shares my feelings. It would be interesting to chat to someone who does not - I had high hopes for a friendly Texan Alcatel employee we took out to dinner a couple of weeks ago, but it turned out that I was being prejudiced. She hated Bush because of his "no child left behind" program, which may be praised by the Economist (and even the New York Times) as the only bi-partisan, positive initiative that Bush came up with in the past few years, but according to her is counterproductive, unfair and disadvantages those who are disadvantaged to begin with. That same night I confirmed to myself that in addition to being prejudiced, I am also culturally insenstive: I asked the Chinese man, who was unhappily pushing around a a huge pile of cheese covered tortellini on his plate, how many children he had. ONE - was the polite answer. What an idiot. Me, that is. Absolute cultural sensitivity and true liberalism and tolerance is hopeless. Anyone who claims otherwise is a hypocrite. Important is to be conscious of this.

As to my management consulting carreer - it has not exactly taken off yet. Every project they put me on seems to die an instant and painful death. T is just as well, I am happy sitting around here with the useless people and just be one of them. Need to root out those communist sentiments I voiced in my previous post, repeat to self: "real work is not only physical labour".

Last weekend Suri (my sister) was here, she was lucky enough to get the last glimpses of warm Parisian sunshine - we had a sweet time. She thought, and I agree, that my neighbourhood is like the quintessential movie-Paris hood. When you switch on the TV and flip through the channels "THE FRENCH MOVIE" is identifiable after about three minutes: cute girl, big-nosed skinny guy, pretentious and unrealistic conversations, you know it. I think all these writers/directors must get their material in the cafes near Montmartre. Scene: fourty-ish, bald man in leather jacket shows up with two artsy-looking heavily pregnant women in their late thirties. They sit down, order a beer each and begin to smoke. Bald man says to cute little black waitress: "I am both kids' father, you know. You don't see that very often, do you?". END - because I left. But I am sure that there was more material to be found.