Fans, those people that adore another human, have often troubled me. To be fanatical about someone or something seems to be that little bit excessive. For a non-fan, there is also an element of jealousy; an envy of that all-encompassing, undaunted enthusiasm and the joy and confidence of belonging.

I am a fan of one man. His name is Nick Cave. He has shared the fury and joys of my relatively mundane existence for many years. He’s been both my pressure cooker, where rage and frustration can escape, and my inner-whisperer in moments of tenderness and vulnerability.

Nick Cave is an Australian musician, writer, singer-songwriter, author, screenwriter, composer and occasional actor. He’s best known as the front man of the band Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.

He is also a wonderful agony aunt. Cave has invited his fans to share their intimate questions on a website called Red Hand Files, a reference to his song Red Right Hand, the theme music from the series Peaky Blinders.

On the website Nick Cave writes:

You can ask me anything.

Yes, I know fans can be boring. It’s all a bit personal and yes, Nick Cave, just like Céline Dion, Michael Jackson or Kim Kardashian are some, but not everyone’s cup of tea.

Let me just say, in good old straight fan-speak, his concerts are mesmerising. Too strong a word? You have to forgive me. I’m a fan. His songs reach deep into your soul and his lyrics are poetry. He has experienced deep tragedy which has transformed his music and his artistic dialogue with the world. His music is cinematic, dealing with violence, madness, intense love, death, religion and beauty. But since the death of his twin son, his voice and presence have grown, transformed by grief, imbued with kindness, empathy and love. His concerts are in an intense love-fest for his fans. He gives with great honesty, humour and lyrical delight.

If you are looking for words that explores the human condition, here are few excerpts of his elegant and heartfelt responses to questions asked by his fans on Red Hand Files:

What is shyness?

 

Shyness is the tentative sound of the orchestra tuning up before the symphony begins. It is a beautiful, fractured piece of music in itself. It is the orchestra attempting to find its shared intent and is over all too quickly if you ask me.

In some circumstances shyness never finds its harmonic agreement and the situation will never be in tune. Yet shyness is a gift that can also be the sometimes crippling, often overpowering, intuition that the next thing life presents is potentially momentous, be it beautiful or devastating, where an exchanged few words or a gesture is a gateway to a new and unknown world. From these intimations of excruciating clarity, we can fall through our shyness into moments of earth-shaking significance, and our lives can change completely.

… My initial dinner ‘date’ with Susie (his wife) was an awkward and hesitant affair because we both intuited, on some deep level, that we stood at the threshold of another life that would stretch on indefinitely into the future. We did not know what that life would be, and it was undeclared between us, but our mutual shyness was the orchestra tuning up, with its flutters and discords, as it tried to find its shared melodic objective. In the end, I did what was a potentially life-deranging act and lunged hideously and impulsively through the membrane of our mutual shyness, grabbed my future wife and kissed her. She responded in kind and our shyness dropped away and, well, the symphony began. Shyness became the firewall through which we walked to a strange and different world, and here we are, together. 

 

 

I feel very bad about myself, I cannot see anything positive in my body, I hate to look at myself in the mirror and it makes me suffer a lot. I feel like everyone is better than me, even though I did very important things for being just 16 years old. How should I behave? What should I do for myself?

 

…the question took me back to my adolescence and the troubled relationship I had with my own reflected image, and those nightmarish teenage years lived inside the pitiless mirror. I’m afraid to say this constant self-evaluation does not significantly decrease as you grow older, however it does become more manageable. I live mostly in hotels these days, and as I cautiously enter a different bathroom each night, with its angled mirrors and merciless lighting, I stand before the mirror at my most defenceless and exposed, and watch it do its worst. I often wonder how much accumulated misery a hotel mirror contains as it reflects back at us what appears to be our essential self. But, of course, what the mirror projects is not our true self at all but only our reflected outer-shell. What is virtually impossible to see within a mirror is that the very essence of our humanness, our vulnerability and fragility, is the most beautiful thing we possess.

Yet, when we are young that vulnerability can appear to us as shame or weakness, as we attempt to brace ourselves against what we may see as a brutal, unforgiving and judgemental world. But those who have no awareness of their own fragility, who present themselves as overconfident, armoured-up and invulnerable, sacrifice the essence of what makes them both human and beautiful.

Vulnerability is the very thing that permits us to connect with each other, to recognise in others the same discomfort they have with themselves and with their place in the world. Vulnerability is the engine of compassion, and can be a superpower, a special vision that allows us to see the quivering, wounded inner world that most of us possess.

 

 

How long will I be alone?

 

Aloneness and loneliness are two very different things, of course. I spend much of my time alone; I always have. I have learnt that being alone, as bereft as it perhaps feels to some, is busy with meaning and disclosure. For me, it is an essential place that intensifies the essence of oneself, in all its rampant need. It is the site of demons and sudden angels and raw truths; a quiet, haunted place and a place of unforeseen understandings. A place of unmasking and unveiling. It can be industrious or melancholic or frightening, sometimes all at the same time, yet within it there is a feeling of a latent promise that holds great power. Like Jesus praying alone in the garden, or Mary Magdalene alone at the mouth of Christ’s tomb, aloneness holds moments that tremble on the brink of revelation and great change.

And then there is loneliness, which is aloneness without choice, an enforced condition that yearns for recognition, to be seen and to be heard. This brave and unguarded admission appears to be the aching heart of your question. As I sat on the plane travelling to Reykjavik for the last show of my ‘In Conversation’ tour, I felt suddenly that there was something I could say to you. Having spent much time travelling on this tour alone, it struck me that your question didn’t have to be answered, but simply acknowledged; that to reach out to you, as you reached out to me, could in itself be the answer and, perhaps, a remedy – to say to you, you are not alone, we are here, and that we, a multitude, are thinking of you.

 

 

How do you forgive somebody whom you love very much but has done something truly terrible?

 

Forgiveness is a form of self-rescue that goes, at times, against our very nature. Forgiveness can prevent us from becoming the living definition of the injury that has been inflicted upon us – from being consumed by anger, pain, resentment and bitterness. But how difficult it is to sometimes forgive; how unfair it seems to reward offence with compassion. Yet, despite our intuitions, despite the seeming insanity of the enterprise, we must try, because forgiveness can be the way to self-preservation. Forgiveness is an act of self-love where the malignancy you have endured can become the motivating force that helps enlarge the capacity of the heart.

How to forgive the unforgivable? Now there is a question. Sometimes we feel the crime is such a violation, and so egregious, that it is beyond absolution – but the struggle to forgive is where it can find its true meaning. Even the attempt to move toward forgiveness allows us the opportunity to touch the borders of grace. To try is an act of resistance against the forces of malevolence – a form of defiant grace.

See forgiveness as a gift, not to the person who has committed the injury, but to yourself, in the form of self-protection. The sooner you start the process, the less time you may spend imprisoned by resentment and bitterness, hopefully moving toward a more resilient self. To try and fail is in itself a form of betterment. There are times forgiveness is beyond us but still we must reach, still we must strive.

 

 

Considering human imagination the last piece of wilderness, do you think AI will ever be able to write a good song?

 

… I don’t feel that when we listen to Smells Like Teen Spirit it is only the song that we are listening to. It feels to me, that what we are actually listening to is a withdrawn and alienated young man’s journey out of the small American town of Aberdeen – a young man who by any measure was a walking bundle of dysfunction and human limitation – a young man who had the temerity to howl his particular pain into a microphone and in doing so, by way of the heavens, reach into the hearts of a generation. We are also listening to Iggy Pop walk across his audience’s hands and smear himself in peanut butter whilst singing 1970. We are listening to Beethoven compose the Ninth Symphony while almost totally deaf. We are listening to Prince, that tiny cluster of purple atoms, singing in the pouring rain at the Super Bowl and blowing everyone’s minds. We are listening to Nina Simone stuff all her rage and disappointment into the most tender of love songs. We are listening to Paganini continue to play his Stradivarius as the strings snapped. We are listening to Jimi Hendrix kneel and set fire to his own instrument.

What we are actually listening to is human limitation and the audacity to transcend it. Artificial Intelligence, for all its unlimited potential, simply doesn’t have this capacity. How could it? And this is the essence of transcendence. If we have limitless potential then what is there to transcend? And therefore what is the purpose of the imagination at all. Music has the ability to touch the celestial sphere with the tips of its fingers and the awe and wonder we feel is in the desperate temerity of the reach, not just the outcome. Where is the transcendent splendour in unlimited potential? So to answer your question, Peter, AI would have the capacity to write a good song, but not a great one. It lacks the nerve.

 

 

You can read more here: Red Hand Files 

The latest album by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds is called Ghosteen.

You’ve got to feel a little sorry for Her Majesty.

Queen Elizabeth had been mostly enjoying, along with millions of others, a five star re-run of her reign in the series, The Crown on Netflix.

Then along comes Prince Andrew with his own bit of reality television; to answer charges that he had sex with an underage girl and continued a friendship with the alleged head of a paedophile ring and a convicted sex offender, the late Jeffrey Epstein.

The interview was somewhere between a car crash and a very public self-beheading. The fallout was swift. Randy Andy, as he is known in the tabloid press, was put to pasture with immediate effect; retired from public life. He was fired by his mum.

Prince Andrew’s meagre apology was that he “let the side down”. Indeed, he did.

 

 

It’s much more than than an annus horribilis.  It’s a decennium atrocius. The high opera that is the British monarchy is on a slippery slope.

The Queen has enjoyed hallowed ground, beyond the range of the sniping tabloids. But not the future king, Charles, his brother Andrew and the princes Harry and William and families. They are fodder of the merciless tabloids and their vampiric on-line media off shoots, which live and breathe on real or imagined family feuds, big bottoms, inter-racial families, odd handshakes, unfashionable fashions, and estranged fathers. The Queen is an Untouchable. Prince Andrew and his generation are prey.

Unthinkable questions are being aired: Does the Royal family have a role in the modern UK today?  Are we coming to post-Brexit and post-royal family?

 

 

Before the first world war, almost every European country boasted a royal family. The trend is clear.

Prince Andrew is standing back, royal-speak for Donald Trump’s catch-cry: ‘You’re fired!’. He’s been ousted from his largely ceremonial role as the royal patron of 230 organisations and charities. One organisation, however, the Federal Bureau of Intelligence (FBI), has publicly said it would like to have a talk to him.

The title prince is intrinsically linked with fairy tales. Being Prince Charming is a poison chalice. He is, and the irony is thick here, the hero and rescuer of damsels in distress. In Sleeping Beauty, he is the hero who kisses an unconscious under-age girl, and in Snow White and Cinderella he also liberates young women from evil spells. That’s the fairy tale.

A prince is the idealized man some people dream of as a future husband. Indeed, charming and self-absorbed people are very captivating.

History is full of charming sociopaths. They have a way of getting you to feel more confident in them, than yourself. They are often narcissistic personalities. But just as narcissists can turn on the charm, they can also turn it off again. Beware of the man who is a little too charming.

Prince Andrew’s  other line of mea culpa in his terrible interview was, “my judgment was probably coloured by my tendency to be too honourable”. Such a gallant and galling defence.

 

Being Prince Charming is a poison chalice

 

He is no stranger to controversy. His ex-wife wife Sarah Ferguson was the subject of a sting by the now defunct tabloid News of the World. She was filmed asking for a payment of half a million pounds in exchange for access to Andrew.

“That opens up everything you would ever wish for,” she told an undercover reporter “I can open any door you want… Look after me and he’ll look after you.”

Prince Andrew’s flaws and failings, and there is a considerable list, pale into significance when compared to another 21st century prince, who in a just of matter of minutes, erased his royal family at fateful royal dinner on June 1, 2001.

It’s a horrific, but true tale that took place in the former Royal Kingdom of Nepal where King Birendra Bir Bikram Shah was revered by many of his subjects, not only as the absolute monarch, but also as reincarnation of the Hindu god Vishnu.

Prince Dipendra, next-in-line for the throne, had been drinking his favourite Grouse whisky and smoking opium-laced cigarettes prepared by his dutiful aides. He was an unhappy prince. His parents has forbidden him to marry his girl-friend.

That night his aides found the inebriated Prince sprawled on the floor of his room. They helped him to his feet and took him to the bathroom. But he ordered them to leave.

Shortly after, the Prince came down to the billiard room in army fatigues. He carried a German MP-5K assault rifle, a US M-16 assault rifle, a French 12-bore shotgun and an Austrian 9mm Glock pistol. Within minutes he killed his parents, the king and queen, and seven other members of the royal family and then shot himself. He died three days later, but not before he, the assassin, was declared king as protocol dictated.

On May 28, 2008, Nepal’s monarchy was abolished and the country declared a democratic republic. The trend is clear.

 

 

 

Welcome to Australia. The land Down Under.

Sunshine, spectacular beaches, surf, a few dangerous spiders and snakes, a shark or two, a crocodile here and there, a bit of racism (a lot, if you are an Australian Aborigine), a love of sport, kangaroos and koalas and an easy-going lifestyle.

It’s no wonder it’s known as the Lucky Country. It’s resource-rich with some of the biggest mines in the world. Dig it up and sell it. It’s been a rich winning formula for years. In fact, Australia is so lucky, that according to the Australian Government, there’s no such thing as climate change, and certainly don’t ever mention a climate emergency. And they will tell you that. If you have the temerity to link climate change to dying rivers and unprecedented bushfires, the deputy Prime Minister (second-in-charge) will correct you in no uncertain terms:

“That’s the ravings of some pure, enlightened and woke capital city greenies.” 

As one of his parliamentary colleagues so vehemently told Australians:

“The Greens politicians are exploiting this tragedy (bushfires) to pump up their cult, by saying things that are completely untrue, against the science and just trying to recruit more members to the cult.”

It’s just as well the climate emergency and science are fictional in this pocket of the world, because Australia is the world’s leading coal exporter.  Coal is in the blood, and in the bank accounts of Australian governing elite. The now Prime Minister Scott Morrison, a marketing man and a fervent Pentecostal Christian, even brought a lump of coal to the national parliament a few years ago.

“This is coal, don’t be afraid,” he told the nation. You can watch the surreal moment here.

About a million hectares or 10,000 square kilometres

have been destroyed by fire in the last week or so.

That’s about a quarter of Switzerland.

The Australian government has just approved the construction of a heavily subsidised coal mine for an Indian mining giant that will cover a surface of 450 square kilometres. (That’s about 1.5 times the size of the canton of Geneva). There’s another application for a coal mine four times that size. It’s proposed by a portly Australian miming magnate who generously exercised his democratic rights by spending $60 million in the last federal election to ensure there would be no change in business as usual.

Another reason why the Australian Government is blind to climate change is because of the smoke. Great swathes of the country are on fire. Undoubtedly, you’ve seen reports in the media. First California, and now Australia. And it’s not even summer in Australia. The smoke is everywhere, especially in your eyes. You can’t see the wood for the burning trees, nor the science for the claptrap.

 

 

About a million hectares or 10,000 square kilometres have been destroyed by fire in the last week or so. That’s about a quarter of Switzerland. Six hundred schools were closed last week. And let me repeat, it’s not even the high summer season. Just a warm-up of what’s to come.

Catastrophic is the new official word, introduced in 2009, to describe the unprecedented ferocity of fire and danger. In the good old days, it was just extreme fire danger. These are the updated climate billboards that sit outside hundreds of towns across Australia.

 

 

Forest fires and drought are as Australian as kangaroos. The land’s most successful non-human colonist is the eucalyptus, or gum tree. It settled in Australia about 50 million years ago. The Eucalyptus has not only adapted to fire, but it encourages fire and needs fire to regenerate.

Eucalyptus oil is highly flammable. Burning trees have been known to explode. Bushfires can travel swiftly through the oil-rich air of the tree canopies.

The Australia Broadcasting Commission reported how, like California, the normal bushfire season is a thing of the past. Welcome to the new normal, and it’s pretty terrifying.

As the glaciers in the European Alps melt at unprecedented rate, Australia is burning and drying up at unprecedented levels.

When temperatures reached 52 degrees a few years ago, Australia’s Bureau of Meteorology had to add a new colour to the top of its temperature scale, an incandescent purple.

One of the largest river systems that runs through much of the south-east of Australia has almost stopped flowing due to climate change and mismanagement. Another term was added to the growing lexicon of climate disaster:  fish kill.

More than a one million fish have died.

For much of the twentieth century there were major bush fires, usually once a generation.  In the 1980s things started to change for the worse. These fires today are different. They are catastrophic, more and more violent and now an annual affair. The fire season now starts in Spring and for the first time ever, the rainforests are burning.

Switzerland and most of Europe acknowledge and have actively begun to legislate to reduce the effects of climate change. Even Margaret Thatcher recognised the threat of climate change. Eleven thousand world scientists called for action to tackle climate emergency last week.

The sheer arrogance of the governing elite

is gob-smacking. But this is the macho political

landscape where Rupert Murdoch cut his teeth

The Australia Government knows better. It has adopted the US gun massacre response. Straight out of the handbook.

Ignore it. Offer thoughts and prayers. It’s just Green hysteria. How dare you talk about politics (climate change) when people’s lives and livelihood are under threat.

(Australian cartoonist First Dog on the Moon: We mustn’t bring politics into the disastrous situation that was created by … wait for it … POLITICS)

The sheer arrogance of the governing elite is gob-smacking. But this is the macho political landscape where Rupert Murdoch cut his teeth. Science is attacked, lies are repeated, messengers are attacked and facts are confused and altered. The cowboys of obfuscation.

The Australian government has sent its memos out to its employees: Just don’t say climate change.

Here’s a report from CNN from November 11.

The terrible irony is that Australia has plenty of free clean energy. More sun than you can poke a stick at. There’s lots of sun, but no leadership in the Lucky Country. It’s no wonder a Green politician told the government last week:

“You are no better than a bunch of arsonists – borderline arsonists – and you should be ashamed.”

More: Here’s a first-person account of the horror of the current fires.

 

 

Les langues sont un peu comme des concertos. Elles ont un rythme, une texture et des fluctuations. Une personne qui connaît bien la langue anglaise sait à quel moment marquer une pause… et à quel moment créer une légère EM-phase. C’est un apprentissage qui nécessite de la pratique. Celles et ceux qui commencent à apprendre l’anglais parlent généralement d’une manière un peu ro-bo-ti-que, puis progressivement absorbent et imitent la mélodie de la langue.

Au fur et à mesure que vous assimilez la mélodie, votre pratique de la langue anglaise devient plus robuste. Vous parvenez à communiquer de manière plus efficace.

Les plus grands violonistes, même Yehudi Menuhin et Nigel Kennedy, ont tous commencé par produire des sons semblables à des chats de gouttières se disputant des arrêtes de poisson dans une ruelle.

I repeat: It takes practice. That means you must be patient, hard-working and brave.

 

1. NO FEAR! No-one will make fun of your English.

Rassurez-vous, personne ne vous jugera. Parlez ! Parlez ! Parlez ! Si vous ne pratiquez pas, vous n’évoluerez pas. Oubliez les préjugés. Après tout, l’anglais est déjà votre deuxième, troisième ou quatrième langue. La plupart des anglophones s’arrêtent à une seule langue – la leur. Nous avons tous remarqué ce phénomène en observant les expatriés à Genève, n’est-ce pas ? Alors ne soyez pas trop dur(e) avec vous-même.

Si vous êtes vraiment bloqué(e), vous aurez besoin d’un accompagnateur expérimenté pour vous aider à monter sur le vélo et vous orienter dans la bonne direction. La pratique de la langue est la première étape pour gagner en confiance. Ensuite, c’est une promenade de santé. Prêt(e) pour une balade ?!

 

2. SLOW DOWN. Speaking quickly does not mean you are fluent

Certaines personnes pensent que parler vite donne l’impression de maitriser la langue. Sottises ! Si vous souhaitez développer vos compétences en communication, vous devez ralentir. Vous avez besoin d’une ou deux secondes supplémentaires pour que les mots se forment dans votre esprit puis se matérialisent dans votre bouche pour former des sons intelligibles. Prendre le temps vous aidera à développer la pleine conscience de votre anglais. La satisfaction d’un accompagnateur d’anglais est d’entendre un étudiant corriger ses erreurs.

I went to, no, I have been to New York two times, I mean twice. I stayed there since two, I mean, for two months.

Slow down. Think about your English. Be mindful. Correct it.

 

3. Speak in full sentences. You can’t master a language if you are a minimalist speaker.

How long does it take to drive from Geneva to Berne? La réponse n’est PAS : 2 hours

La bonne réponse est : It takes about 2 hours to drive from Geneva to Berne

Lorsque quelqu’un vous pose une question, utilisez tous les éléments grammaticaux de la question dans votre réponse.

How long have you lived in Nyon? I have lived in Nyon for five years.

La réponse incorpore la même mélodie avec un arrangement musical légèrement différent. En utilisant les éléments de la question dans votre réponse, non seulement vous apprenez la mélodie mais en plus vous vous donnez le temps de réfléchir pour fournir une réponse détaillée.

How long have you lived in Nyon? I have lived in Nyon for five years. I lived in Geneva before that. When I got the job at Le Temps I decided to move to Nyon. And you? Do you like living in Zurich?

Don’t be a minimalist. Speak in full sentences.

 

4. STOP TRANSLATING. FORGET FRENCH

Vous êtes maintenant en mode anglais-vers-anglais. Utilisez le vocabulaire anglais que vous connaissez. Permettez-moi d’insister : Utilisez le vocabulaire anglais que vous connaissez. N’essayez pas de paraître poétique et compétent(e) en traduisant les expressions françaises que vous connaissez. Ça ne fonctionne pas.

 

5. Keep your sentences SHORT AND SIMPLE

Entraînez-vous en parlant de vous-même. Préparez un monologue avec des phrases courtes et simples.

My name is Anne Gables. I am 35. I work in a private bank in Geneva called Pictet. I have worked there for seven years.  I am a financial analyst. I live with my partner in Nyon. We live in a small house about a kilometre from the lake. We are lucky. We have a huge garden and we grow lots of vegetables. We grew a lot of zucchinis this year. I have a dog and three cats. Uma is a Labrador. Sally, Mickey and Ute are Siamese.

The KISS principle: Keep it Short and Simple.

 

6. OPEN YOUR MOUTH. Exercise your tongue and OVER-exaggerate the difficult sounds. Entraînez-vous à faire sonner les pluriels en S et en Z. En anglais, le S est votre ami. Il FAUT le prononcer.

How many days (day-Z) will you will spend in the United States (State-ss)?

Comprenez que pour prononcer certains sons en anglais, vous devez reprogrammer votre langue et votre bouche. C’est une simple gymnastique de la bouche. Le son th est généralement assez difficile à prononcer pour un francophone. Pourquoi ? Parce que votre langue ne connaît pas la manœuvre à effectuer pour faire un th.

 

 

Entraînez-vous à prononcer Thursday (TH-ursday) et Tuesday (Tchoosday). This, think, thought, Thor, that, them…

Accentuez également la prononciation du –ed des verbes au passé simple.

We finish-T at seven pm. I live-D in the UK for 7 year-Z.

The course start-ID on Sunday and the end-ID on Tuesday.

 Train your tongue and mouth.  Exaggerate the sound.

 

7. VOCABULARY. Find the important words and, most importantly, the words you like and feel comfortable with.

Si vous avez des difficultés à prononcer le mot approximately, dîtes plutôt about.

The hotel is about 10 kms from here. A room cost about $90 a night.

Vous n’avez pas besoin de connaître tous les mots du dictionnaire Oxford. Mais vous devez assimiler, apprendre et utiliser des mots clés. Comment y parvenir ? Voici quelques idées utiles.

Imaginez que vous devez formuler un commentaire sur l’un des sujets suivants :

• La volatilité du prix du poisson à Casablanca ;
• Les augmentations et diminutions du nombre de visiteurs dans un musée ;
• Comparer les bénéfices d’une banque d’un trimestre à un autre.

Pour chacune des situations ci-dessus, vous avez seulement besoin d’apprendre et d’activer un petit groupe de mots qui couvrira la quasi-totalité des descriptions imaginables.

Rise / fall and increase / decrease – these are movements which can be used as both verbs and nouns.

There was a dramatic rise in the price of perch last year

The price of perch increased dramatically last year.

Vous pouvez décrire les augmentations et les diminutions comme slight – moderate – substantial – dramatic.

There was a substantial rise in the number of museum visitors in April.

Autres mots importants pour décrire ces situations : to fluctuate, recover, remain stable, reach a peak et reach the lowest point.

Profits fluctuated in the first half of the year between CHF 10 and 20 million. In August profits rose dramatically and peaked at CHF 35 million. They remained stable in October and November and fell slightly to finish the year at CHF 33 million.

À l’aide de ce vocabulaire, vous pouvez décrire presque tous types de statistiques, de tendances ou d’indicateurs.

Use new words as quickly as possible. Be selective. Identify the words that are important.

 

8. Open your ears. Listen to as much English as possible.

Lisez le texte ci-dessous trois fois à voix haute. Pratiquez à la manière d’une pièce de théâtre. Imaginez que vous parlez à un public. Sur quels mots auriez-vous naturellement tendance à créer une emphase ? À quels moments feriez-vous des pauses pour créer un effet et reprendre votre souffle ? Soulignez les mots d’emphase et marquez les différentes pauses, puis comparez vos notes à celles du texte situé à la fin de cet article. Voici le texte :

There is one area of business where the best will always find a job. And it’s so vital to the economy that its future is almost guaranteed. The true professional in this field has nothing to fear from technology or the changing marketplace. In fact, they can virtually name their own salary as they provide an essential service, without which most companies would simply go out of business. I’m talking of course, about selling.

Écoutez cette conférence TED avec les sous-titres en anglais – The secrets of learning a new language. Lisez les sous-titres en même temps que vous écoutez. Ressentez la mélodie de la langue. Prêtez attention aux mots dont la prononciation est ACCENTUÉE.

Savoir quels mots accentuer peut totalement changer le sens d’une phrase. Lisez la phrase ci-dessous.

I didn’t say he had stolen the bike.

Cette formulation est à priori assez simple. Cependant, un anglophone expérimenté peut donner plusieurs significations à cette phrase en mettant l’accent sur différents mots.

Voici un exemple : I didn’t say he had stolen the bike. (Une emphase sur le « I » signifie que ce n’est pas moi qui ai dit qu’il avait volé le vélo)

I didn’t say he had stolen the bike. (Je ne l’ai pas directement accusé d’avoir volé le vélo. J’ai simplement suggéré que c’était peut-être lui)

I didn’t say he had stolen the bike. (Peut-être que c’était quelqu’un d’autre. Peut-être que c’était Susan)

I didn’t say he had stolen the bike. (J’ai dit à la police qu’il avait volé mon scooter)

 

9. Keep calm and speak English. Don’t worry too much about grammar.

Vous commettrez probablement des erreurs de grammaire. Rien de grave ! Votre mission est de communiquer et d’être compris(e). Ne vous mettez pas la pression au sujet de la grammaire. Contentez-vous de communiquer !

 

10. Enjoy yourself

L’apprentissage de l’anglais n’est pas une punition. Assurez-vous de prendre plaisir à apprendre cette superbe langue et le reste viendra naturellement. Trouvez la méthode qui vous convient le mieux. Avec un peu de discipline et de patience, vous serez sur la bonne voie. Et n’oubliez pas de rire et de sourire.

Annexe du chapitre 8 ci-dessus. Emphases et pauses. Les emphases sont en caractères gras et les pauses ou respirations sont marquées par des barres obliques ( / ).

There is ONE area of business / where THE BEST / will ALWAYS / find a job. And it’s SO VITAL to the economy / that its future / is ALMOST-GUARANTEED. The true professional in this field has NOTHING to fear from technology or the changing marketplace. In fact, / they can virtually NAME-THEIR-OWN-SALARY / as they provide an ESSENTIAL service, / without which, / MOST companies would simply go out of business. I’m talking / of course, / about / selling.

Suivez ces suggestions et vous constaterez que votre public n’aura pas besoin de vous demander de répéter. Un grand pas en avant pour votre confiance !

Translation: Benjamin

 

 

The word of the day is wacko, kindly brought to you by the Mayor of Chamonix.

So, what’s a wacko? It’s certainly not complimentary. The French equivalent is hurluberlus, a term Mayor Jean-Marc Peillex used to describe some of the climbers that set off from Chamonix to climb Mont Blanc.

He is urging President Emmanuel Macron to stop wackos, crackpots and oddballs from climbing the mountain, after a British tourist carried a rowing machine up the mountain to raise money for charity.

Yes, a rowing machine (machine à ramer).

Unfortunately, the Brit didn’t have the energy to descend with the rowing machine. At the time of writing it’s sitting in a refuge on the mountain, a few hundred metres below the summit.  The man gave his name as Matthew Disney which prompted the far-from-amused Mayor to write in his open letter to President Macron:

“… with a name like that, you’d think he thought he was at an amusement park,”

He’s not the only Mont Blanc wacko. The mayor also cited a German tourist who recently made the ascent with his dog despite promising that he would leave the dog at a refuge before attempting the summit. But no, the tourist and his best friend headed for the top in the middle of the night. It survived, but returned with injuries, according to photos posted on Peillex’s Twitter account.

The mayor also cited two Swiss climbers, keen to conserve energy, who landed a small plane, near the summit and then hiked to the top.

He wants Macron to “write and pass laws without delay that from 2020 would severely punish all these wackos who break the law, and restore peace to Mont Blanc”.

Each year the mountain attracts about 20,000 climbing parties. Thousands of climbers have died on the 4,808 metre-high mountain. It is the deadliest mountain in Europe. Over a three-day period in 2012, Mont Blanc claimed the lives of 11 climbers.

So, what’s a wacko? It’s American English and dates back to the early seventies.

If you are a bit of a wacko, you might be eccentric, odd, a little obsessed, a bit bizarre. But a total wacko is someone that is crazy, crackers, unhinged, unbalanced, daft, demented, bonkers and barmy. You’ve properly got the picture.

There seem to be more and more wackos in the world, not just on Mont Blanc. The internet spawns wackos. Wackos love conspiracy theories. Religious wackos dream of having their own cults. Wackos don’t mix well with guns. General advice: Keep away from wackos.

The word wacko comes from the adjective wacky which means a little crazy, funny or amusing in a bizarre or peculiar way.

You can have a wacky sense of humour or a wacky or eccentric dress style. This can be quite refreshing and not at all negative.  It doesn’t mean you are a wacko. Take for example, the wacky inventor in Hollywood movies who is often quite odd, but quite sharp.

The verb whack means to hit somebody/something very hard.

She whacked the thief with her hand-bag.

Federer whacked the ball over the net.

Some etymologists (word historians) say that the word wacko comes from whack; you become a wacko when you’ve been whacked too many times in the head.

Arguably, you have to be a bit of a wacko to climb dangerous mountains.

The first man to climb Mont Blanc was a 26-year-old crystal and chamois hunter named Jacques Balmat. He didn’t have a rowing machine. Instead he told his wife he was off to hunt for crystals. He filled his gourd with brandy, got a piece of bread, and set off. He didn’t get very far the first time.

Three weeks later, on August 8, 1786 he joined another hiker, a French village doctor named Michel Paccard, and with more brandy and a spot of good weather they both reached the top. The feat was rewarded with cash and honour.

The man perhaps the most obsessed by the mountain at this time was the Geneva aristocrat, scientist, inventor and explorer Horace-Bénédict de Saussure. He was fascinated with the geology and botany of the Alps. He tried many times to scale the mountain.

He finally offered a reward to anyone who could scale the mountain and then help him reach the top.

The mountain was soon crawling with would be mountaineers, much like today. Balmat and Paccard were the first and received the prize. A year later, de Saussure finally realised his dream. Along with his valet and 18 guides (led by Balmat) and some heavy scientific equipment, which was left at base camp, he conquered the mountain.

It seems every man and his dog, and rowing machine, want to follow in his footsteps.

 

 

Donald Trump says he now wants to buy Switzerland.

After his offer to buy the Arctic island of Greenland was soundly rejected, the real estate mogul, golf player, connoisseur of fast food and US president says he’d now like a little alpine territory. He told reporters:

“It’s essentially a small real estate deal. Switzerland is not as large as Greenland. A small deal. Tiny. Smaller than little Marco. My hands are bigger than Switzerland. The price will be cheap. A give-away. Dirt cheap. They should give it to me. It’s a tremendous deal. I make the best deals. They make the best cheese.

“I mean Swiss cheese has holes in it. Holes-in-one cheese. They’re smart the Swiss. Really smart, like me. You pay for the holes in the cheese. Can you believe it? Hole-in-one cheese. Tremendous people. No-one likes the Swiss more than me. Great cheese. I just get holes-in-one. Like the cheese. Smart people.

“It’ll be cheap. Too many mountains. Up and down, up and down. No golf courses on mountains. The ball rolls off. Up and down, up and down. Nothing flat. No golf. Zilch! I think that’s a Swiss word, isn’t it? I was a brilliant student of Swiss at school… Top of the class. I could speak Swedish fluently. Best student ever.

“You don’t pay for mountains. And no snow. It’s all turning to water that little girl keeps telling us. What’s her name?  Grunta? She wrote me a lovely letter. Like a love letter. Really lovely. Tremendous. I remember she said : Donald there will be no more snow. No apres-ski! None of those little cheese cubes. Remember them? In a bowl. Swiss cheese. Delicious. Better to sell now to the Donald. No snow, no golf. Zilch! See I’m fluent. Best student ever. My teachers all said that. It’ll be all gone soon. It’s finito. Just mountains. No more snow at Davidoff with Vlad. Yep, holes in cheese and no snow and cuckold clocks. No golf courses. Bircher muesli. It’s Swedish. That’s not Coco Pops. You know what I mean?” he told reporters.

Trump said he had fond memories of Switzerland as a young man.

“Ursula Undress! Oh Ursula! Class! The best of the Bond girls. We bonded. Great bikini. Bonds underpants. I still wear them. Must be related. What a woman. Ursula Undress. What a sexy name. Yes, undress Ursula. I’ve always loved Switzerland. Great people. I love them. Too cold in Switzerland for bikinis. Dangerous eh? Who knows?

“I should have been Bond. They wanted me for Bond. They asked me. They were gonna pay me millions. Trump Bond. Great underpants. Comfortable.

“I woulda been a tremendous Bond. Moore was a nancy. Connery didn’t speak English. No-one could understand him. Trump for Bond. Trump Bond, they said. They wanted me for it. Connery was hairy like an ape.

“Chocolate fondus with Ursula. Yep, I would have a chocolate fondu with Ursula. Delicious. Hugh used to have them. And cheese in the bowls. She wanted to go out with me. She was a Trump girl… Believe me!  Connery was a loser. Couldn’t understand a word,

“They wanted me to direct the film. No-one could do it better. Believe me, it was a deal. You know she kept ringing me up. Yeah, I like Switzerland. Tremendous people. Great deal. It’s essentially a small real estate deal. I would’ve been the best Bond. He was so hairy.”

 

 

 

 

The word bankrupt literally means broken table.

It comes from two Italian words; bancus (table or bench) and ruptus (broken). If a Roman trader was unable to meet their debts or their business practices were unscrupulous, their trading table would be broken – a clear sign for all.

In the New Testament, Jesus also vandalised some tables in a temple. He found that the money changers and the dove (colombe) sellers not so much financially bankrupt, but morally and spiritually bankrupt.

The Old Testament says bankruptcy and debt were often forgiven every 50 years; an event known as the Jubilee or Holy Year. According to the book of Leviticus; slaves and prisoners would be freed, debts would be forgiven and the mercies of God would be in abundance.

The Greeks weren’t so forgiving. If a man owed a debt that he was unable to pay, his entire family ­including any servants he owned became debt slaves. Today bonded or debt labour is the most widely used method of enslaving people around the world.

 

A fantastic and grotesque story about debt and forgiveness concerns the Creech tribe of Sumatra. It’s a brilliant story to impress dinner guests, but best told between dishes. Travel writer Paul Theroux in his book of anthropological fiction Unspeakable Rituals describes the Creech people as violent, quarrelsome, and in general, not very nice. But he says they have one unique tribal tradition.

Instead of complicated debt laws the Creech have a Memory Man. The Memory Man receives his title at birth. He possesses the entire memory of the tribe, and may spend as much as a week, day and night, reciting their genealogies, property, debts and activities

The Memory Man receives his title at birth.

He possesses the entire memory of the tribe, and

may spend as much as a week, day and night,

reciting their genealogies, property,

debts and activities.

Theroux writes:

When a dispute arises the Memory Man settles it, because he knows what really happened. He knows all the secrets, debts, lies, infidelities and crimes.

After thirty years have passed and he is old by Creech standards – shrunken, wrinkled, probably toothless, probably losing his memory – a meeting is convened. The Memory Man recites the whole of the Creech history (or as much of it as he can remember) and at the conclusion he is put to death. He is then barbecued and eaten by every member of the tribe, in a ritual known as the ceremony of purification.

Nothing is left. The tribe has literally lost its memory, and they embark on a huge, orgiastic celebration of love and happiness and freedom – the best freedom of all, which is freedom from the past.

In England, before the Bankruptcy Act of 1869, debtors and often their families were routinely imprisoned, sometimes for decades. Most European countries limited imprisonment for debt to one year, but debtors in England were imprisoned until their creditors were reimbursed. When the Fleet Prison closed in 1842, some debtors were found to have been there for 30 years.

The English writer Charles Dickens wrote extensively about the infamous debtors’ prisons in his novels. Dickens’ father was sent to the Marshalsea Prison on the River Thames because of a debt to a baker. Young Charles was forced to leave school and start work at the age of 12 to support his family.

 

Hospital for men at Marshalsea Prison

A parliamentary committee reported in 1729 that 300 inmates starved to death in the prison over a three-month period, and that eight to ten prisoners were dying every 24 hours in the warmer weather.

Dickens was haunted by his experience. He later wrote:

My whole nature was so penetrated with grief and humiliation…that even now, famous and caressed and happy, I often forget in my dreams that I have a dear wife and children; even that I am a man; and wander desolately back to that time of my life.

 

Artist’s impression of a 12-year-old Charles Dickens sent to work to support his family in debtor’s prison

Today in the USA corporate world, bankruptcy (better known as Chapter 11) is a well-used form of debt restructuring when business goes sour.

Donald Trump’s empire of hotels and casinos are valued in the hundreds of millions. In 1991, 1992, 2004, and again in 2009, Trump-branded companies or properties were declared bankrupt and sought Chapter 11 protection.  Many companies, such as General Motors, United Airlines and retail outlet K-mart have filed for Chapter 11, but managed to stay afloat.

Debt is one of the cornerstones of capitalism. The US debt is now about 22 trillion dollars. It’s an inconceivable amount. It is written like this – $22,000,000,000,000. About 75 per cent of Americans are in debt when they die.  The average debt is about $66,000. A staggering 80 per cent of Americans are in some kind of debt; student debt, housing debt, medical debt, credit cart and card debt.

In contrast, thrifty Switzerland prefers a surplus and has the lowest debt to GDP ratio in Europe.

The National Debt Clock in New York is an electronic billboard which constantly updates the current United States gross national debt and each American family’s share of the debt.  The clock was modified in 2008 when the debt and its many zeros outgrew the billboard.

 

So, what does $20 trillion dollars all stacked up in crisp 100-dollar bills look like. Would it fill a swimming pool or a football stadium?   This what it looks like. It’s bigger than the extended Godzilla family, and it is still growing. It will be just as difficult to tame.

 

 

 

The truth shall be written in sans serif bold. And the truth is that the greatest Swiss export is NOT chocolate, medicine, gold or watches, and certainly not cuckoo clocks.

The Swiss export that has permeated every pore of this planet is something quite grotesque. Yes, grotesk!  It’s everywhere. It’s on your desk, on your bedside table, in your telephone, on your computer screen, in your children’s room, in your lounge, in the street, in your favorite shops and on your walls. It’s even been into space.

It’s the subject of a documentary. In fact, you are looking at it right now.

Lufthansa, Microsoft, Skype, Panasonic, Harley-Davidson, Toyota, NASA and Nestlé identify with it.

For most of us, it is invisible.

For a select group it’s cult-worshipped.

For most of us, it is invisible. For a select group it’s cult-worshipped. For these believers, it is the essence of clarity, simplicity and neutrality.

They say: It is like water; essential and everywhere.

It was born in 1957 and christened Neue Haas Grotesk. Today it is better known as Helvetica or Helvetica Bold. (It was given the Latin name for Switzerland in 1960, which comes from the Celtic Helvetii people who first lived in this area around 100 B.C.)

The typeface Helvetica was developed by Max Miedinger and Eduard Hoffmann at the Haas Type Foundry in Münchenstein, near Basel. It is the most successful and lauded typeface since Johannes Gutenberg introduced the first printing press in 1439.

Helvetica, according to many type and design epicureans, is the font to die for. It is the benchmark and the gold standard of typefaces. In the 70s, 80s and 90s it was the preferred tool of international capitalism and managed to glide almost seamlessly into the digital age.

It’s the subject of a documentary.

In fact, you are looking at it right now.

Earlier this year Helvetica announced the impending pitter-patter of little font. Helvetica Now was born.

This is how the birth was announced:

 

In an era of continuously updated and enhanced products, it’s worth noting that Helvetica Now is the first new full-blooded Helvetica offspring in 35 years. Its parents were from the pre-digital age, which for many in the field of design, media and advertising is an epoch somewhere nearer to the Jurassic Age.

So why this sudden rush of fertility?

Helvetica is being abandoned by large companies. They have decided to develop their own bespoke fonts. Google has ditched Helvetica for its own Roboto font. Apple has built a new font called San Francisco and CNN now has its own CNN Sans.

It seems we have reached peak Helvetica. Or is it the death of Helvetica?

The irony is, that for someone like me, and maybe you who is relatively design-illiterate, it is almost impossible to tell the difference between Helvetica and tailor-made company version.

But company accountants know the difference. For massive companies like IBM it is expensive to license the font. It’s cheaper and more brand sensitive to manage your own font. It’s now also fashionable.

Helvetica documentary trailer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkoX0pEwSCw

 

 

 

 

Next time you have an abscess removed or your haemorrhoids treated, please spare a thought for one Charles-Francois Felix. I am sure it will make you feel much better.

Monsieur Felix, a barber-surgeon from Avignon performed one extraordinary operation. It changed the face of surgery, and thankfully for Monsieur Felix and his family, the royal bottom of King Louis XIV. 

King Louis’ derriere first came to prominence on January 15, 1685 when the royal physicians discovered a slight swelling in the anal area. They noted this abnormality in the delicate regions in their daily record of the king’s health, a document that was widely circulated and discussed in detail throughout the court of Versailles and beyond.

By February 18, an abscess had formed, and by May 2 a nasty anal fistula appeared.

Enemas, compressions, lotions and blood-letting were the mainstay treatments of the day. None worked. The king couldn’t ride or sit comfortably on the throne, or in fact anywhere. He was suffering from a most royal pain in the butt.

Personal hygiene was almost non-existent. The Church had proclaimed that bathing led to immorality, promiscuous sex and disease. King Louis XIV is said to have only bathed twice in lifetime. He found bathing a disturbing act, as did Queen Isabel I of Spain who also confessed to having only two baths; on the day of her birth and the day of her marriage.

The king sweated profusely and according to records changed his shirts three times during the day and night. Despite the powdered wigs, the heavy perfumes and the sachets of scented herbs concealed in clothing, the royal presence in the Palace of Versailles could often be smelt before it was heard.

A Russian ambassador to France noted that His Majesty Louis XIV “stunk like a wild animal”.

As Patrick Süskind writes in the marvellous first chapter of the book Perfume:

In the period of which we speak, there reigned in the cities a stench barely conceivable to us modern men and women. The streets stank of manure, the courtyards of urine, the stairwells stank of mouldering wood and rat droppings, the kitchens of spoiled cabbage and mutton fat; the unaired parlours stank of stale dust, the bedrooms of greasy sheets, damp featherbeds, and the pungently sweet aroma of chamber pots. The stench of sulfur rose from the chimneys, the stench of caustic lyes from the tanneries, and from the slaughterhouses came the stench of congealed blood. People stank of sweat and unwashed clothes; from their mouths came the stench of rotting teeth, from their bellies that of onions, and from their bodies, if they were no longer very young, came the stench of rancid cheese and sour milk and tumorous disease. The rivers stank, the marketplaces stank, the churches stank, it stank beneath the bridges and in the palaces. The peasant stank as did the priest, the apprentice as did his master’s wife, the whole of the aristocracy stank, even the king himself stank, stank like a rank lion, and the queen like an old goat, summer and winter.

But back to the king’s bum… In desperation the king and his royal doctors sent for the hero of our story, barber-surgeon Charles-Francois Felix.

Barber-surgeons were barbers by profession who also performed blood-letting, teeth extraction, and other minor operations. Physicians rarely cut into a living human body. This job was left to barber-surgeons. One can only imagine the mix of stress, panic, duty and honour that swept through Monsieur Felix when presented with the derriere of the Sun King and a royal decree to cut open, operate and cure the king.

He wisely asked for six months to prepare the operation. Under royal patronage he procured about 75 men from the prisons and countryside; many of them, at least at that point in time, in relatively good health. He then went to work; cutting and slicing, on average three operations per week, of course with no anesthesia and no antibiotics. Many didn’t survive. With each bloody operation he developed and refined two surgical instruments for his royal rendezvous with fate.

His tools of trade can be inspected at Versailles today; the royally-curved scalpel, and the royal retractor, of which the less said, the better.

 On November 18, 1686, at 7 am, Monsieur Felix operated on the king. Present were Madame de Maintenon, (Louis’ mistress whom he later married), his son the Dauphin, his confessor, his physicians, and his Minister of State.

As Monsieur Felix wielded his scalpel he may well have thought of the king’s favorite playwright Molière, whose character Beralde in Le Malade Imaginaire observes:

Medicine is only for those who are fit enough to survive the treatment as well as the illness.

The operation lasted three hours. It was well-documented. Towards the end the King, undoubtedly in agony, turned to Monsieur Felix and asked:

Est-ce fait, messieurs? Achevez et ne me traitez pas en roi ; je veux guérir comme si j’étais un paysan.

(Is it done, gentlemen? Finish and do not treat me as a king; I want to heal as if I were a peasant)

The operation was a success. The king was sitting up in bed within a month and was back on his horse within three months.

The royal court which was privy to the smallest detail of the operation was delirious with joy. Fistulas were fashionable and something to be celebrated. The more devoted courtiers developed fake fistulas and took to wearing swathes of bandages around their buttocks, known as le royale, in homage to the king’s bandaged rear end.

The even more fanatical royal devotees demanded the same operation from brave Monsieur Felix. Monsieur Felix did not pick up his famed royal scalpel again. He received money, lands and a title for his handiwork.

The operation gave a new-found respectability to surgery. It helped propel surgery and medicine in general out of the Middle Ages. In 1731, the king’s grandson, Louis XV opened the Royal Academy of Surgery, now known as the National Academy of Surgery.

 

He was one of our first and most intimate friends and confidantes.

He shared our deepest secrets. We held him tightly in our arms at night and during the day he lay patiently on our pillows, awaiting our return. His name was Teddy; Teddy Bear.

Soft, serene, glass-eyed Teddy. We were inseparable. But where did you come from? Why Teddy Bear? Why not Agatha Bear or Bertrand Bear? Why a bear? Why not Teddy Tiger or Teddy Mouse?

I will enlighten you. But let me first warn you that the truth is often more a cactus than a soft toy. Teddy Bear is named after a US president. Let me assure you, immediately, without drawing breath or lifting a finger from my keyboard, that your teddy is of no relation, none whatsoever, to that narcissistic man-child that now occupies the White House. Relax. Let’s continue…

Your Teddy Bear’s bloodline can be traced back to the 26th president of the United States from 1901 to 1909; Teddy Roosevelt.

Roosevelt, like the 45th, had skeletons in his cupboard. Indeed, thousands of skeletons, and furs, and horns, and antlers, and other and bits and pieces of animal anatomy.

Teddy the president was addicted to guns and killing animals. He celebrated the end of his presidency in 1909 with a 12-month hunting trip to Africa with his son Kermit. They killed more than 512 animals. Their tally included 29 zebras, 28 rhinoceroses, 17 elephants, eight hippopotamuses, nine giraffes, nine tigers, 17 lions and 17 gazelles and hundreds of birds.

The hunt was sponsored by the Smithsonian Institution and many of the animals were sent to the US to be stuffed and mounted in museums.

Roosevelt nurtured his image as the American frontiersman and hunter and was also celebrated as an animal conservationist.  He established national parks and sanctuaries to conserve the animals, mainly for his favourite sport; hunting. In his own words, he said: Hunting made our veins thrill. Yes, it was a very different epoch. One writer later noted: No other president has killed, or saved, as many animals.

In 1901, on a 10-day hunting trip in Mississippi, the president was keen to shoot a bear. His enthusiastic team chased an old black bear into a watering hole. Cornered by hunting dogs, the bear swiped several with its paws, killing one. The bear was bashed and tied to a tree ready for the president to take aim.

Roosevelt refused to shoot the injured and bloody bear. He said it would be unsportsmanlike and instead the bear was knifed to death by two other hunters.

It was certainly no picnic.

Washington Post cartoonist Clifford K. Berryman recreated the scene, or at least a sanatised version of it. Roosevelt is dressed in full rough-rider uniform, with his back to a frightened, cute and tiny young bear. The cartoon caption, Drawing the Line in Mississippi, was a double-entendre of Roosevelt’s hunting code and his criticism of the rampant lynching of black Americans in the South. His political opponent in the state had recently declared: If it is necessary every Negro in the state will be lynched; it will be done to maintain white supremacy.

The cartoon inspired Rose Michtom, a Russian immigrant who ran a penny store in Brooklyn, New York with her husband. Rose made the first Teddy Bear out of plush velvet, and the next morning, the Michtoms placed “Teddy’s bear” in their store display window.

That day, more than a dozen people asked if they could buy the bear. The Michtoms mailed the original to the president as a gift for his children and asked if they could use his name for the bear. Roosevelt consented and rest is history. The Michtoms closed their penny store and made their fortune with the first stuffed teddy bear factory.