The Football Ticket ARIÉ … ..JOIE
An ARIÉ ...... JOY, retired in the Bordeaux region, man of pen and pen,
Met on June 18, a football President, man of comb and scissors,
Calling him, on the background of a green rectangle and a round balloon,
They thought they had matched to develop the communication of the club in unison.
The author and poet at the same time let his pen run off the footpaths of footballers,
Tracing with his words, his historical quotes, interviews and tasty comments,
From Thonon on Lake Geneva to La Brède, the homeland of Montesquieu,
He created his tickets sometimes misunderstood but appreciated by a happy President.
A winning return for the Squirrels, in their stronghold of Cruchon, between forest and heather,
With in mind the spirit of Montesquieu, political thinker and philosopher of the Enlightenment,
“To do great things, you don't have to be such a great genius;
We must not be above men, we must be with them. ”
But it was without counting on the detractors, barkers in stripes, crazy and paparazzo,
Tackling from behind at every opportunity the two men of pen and scissors,
To achieve their ends, by challenging the new communication in the shadows,
With the complicity of members of the office, far from poetry and closer to the ball.
L’Arié… .Joy with a strong character, keen on verbal jousting and calibrated words,
Even dared to thwart the desires of a leader with an inordinate ego, accustomed to uncontested orders,
A professional with bars in the handling of weapons, pitiful and shabby burst from his Kalashnikov,
Accusing me of mixing his professional life with my editorial delusions, in apostrophe.
Like BREL, here is my poetic translation of my “editorial delirium”:
First, first there is the colonel
He who is like a melon
He who has a big gall
He who knows his name well
Sir so much that you believe in it
Who does everything with his ten fingers
But he who can't take it anymore
He who is completely cooked
And who takes himself for the King
Must tell you sir
That at this GARS-LA
We don't think sir
We don't think so, we Fold !!!
Removed from the implementation of Communication by a Connetable General Manager,
The professional communication specialist managing the 2 elite teams under Backstages,
Take matters into their own hands, piling up photos and editorial texts with remarkable typos,
Making the columnist Arié regret ... Joy for having recommended a communicator without luggage.
Year in and year out, everyone stayed in their camp, far from the objectives of transversal communication,
The columnist covering a few events, the professional on the D2 and the R1 being limited,
Posting succinct photos and comments on social networks, without any primordial flavor,
Leaving the computer site in its embryonic state, incomparably beginner's poverty.
On the first day of Autumn it was through the press that the ARIE ... JOIE learned of his dismissal,
Rereading La Fontaine, as in La laitière et le pot au lait, he was "Gros-Jean as before",
A devious General Manager, without the approval of his President, had banished him permanently,
Goodbye calf, cow, pig, chicken ……… but above all a version of the great singing Hugues.
Farewell Mr. President
I will never forget you
And deep in my heart
These words are written in chalk
I offer you these few confidants
To tell you how much I appreciated you
I will never forget you
Farewell Mr. President.
And to put these associative pranks back to the level they deserve I will end in song,
With Gérard Lenormand "If I were President" where I would be wary of the diplomatic corps,
I will patiently wait for the General Assembly and its very political issues,
But I will never be President, and therefore free of my words and of my future reconversion.
In conclusion I will quote the French politician, Léon Blum,
the legendary man of the Font Populaire, saying:
"There is no antidote to the poison of slander and the three L's rule, we Lick, we Let go, we Lynch. " ARIÉ......JOIE,
JI chose Saturday October 9 to announce my divorce, St Denis Day,
symbol of a martyr 1st bishop of Lutetia,
beheaded with a sword by an executioner on the hillock of Montmartre,
having grabbed his head in his hands, walking along a 6 km street,
the future rue des Martyrs, to then offer his head to a faithful, Catulla,
before collapsing on the ground on the site of the future basilica of Saint-Denis.
What a SYMBOL for an ARIÉ ..... JOY decapitated with his pen !!!
Will my followers in Arlac and elsewhere understand my message and send me to
"Pantheon of Chroniclers" like others before me?
But another symbol on this October 9,
last year a severe fall gave me about fifteen fractures
immobilizing me for many weeks: Thank you, Life.
Guy dit l’Arié…..Joie