Sunday, 15 July 2018

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 58

I have deleted my last update which deviated from the updates of my true struggles in Paris.  I wish to make up by responding to the suggestion made by my loyal follower.  Christopher Meade (a writer, funny and compassionate) was so indignant about the calculating Mme. Landlord, that he suggested that I should take revenge in the comment section of episode 78.  Appeasing thought and I am only human. 

However, I must first analyze the process that I got taken in by this experienced hyena so that I will not repeat the same mistake.  Hard as it is, I must take my responsibility for having fallen…a victim.  I hesitate there because I dislike this word, more precisely, the people who refer to themselves as ‘victims’ as if it is a license.  Apart from children and the physically weak, there is no such a thing as blameless victims.  Greed makes people fall for scams.  Lack of preparation makes you lose.  In my case underestimating the weak was my undoing.  

Mme. Landlord was ill when I first met her.  Foolishly I believed she was too sick to harbour any evil thoughts.   I should have remembered that some women have dedicated a good many years of their life caring their sick lovers, only to be dumped after their lovers have regained their health, walking away with a new, often younger, girlfriend.  In the case of Mme. Landlord, as soon as her illness was contained, she reverted back to a money monger who would extort even from her allies.  It was not just me, but there was other landlords whom she would extort compensation for her cooked up stories.  

I am more a fool than a victim to have missed seeing her true colour in the early days.  I succumbed to the temptation of the role of a virtuous woman befriending a sick lady and fighting evils with her.  It is extremely hard to admit but it was my vanity that I lost my future as a graphic novelist.  I cannot with this wrist now.  I may be able to write some pages slowly, but that is not going to cut it in the professional world.  Not that I ever had any chance, but now I have none for sure.

Another reason for my misjudgment was the existence of the even bigger devil, the restaurant from hell.  I was blown away by their audacity to present themselves as decent lots while breaking many regulations regarding the restaurant business.  The collective evil overshadowed the individual evil of Mme. Landlord.   But there is one thing they have in common: they both refer to themselves as ‘victims.’  The restaurant folks lament that they are being unfairly persecuted by the heartless neighbours and Mme. Landlord referred to herself as ‘a good person betrayed.’  This convenient shift between ‘predator’ and ‘victim’ is a lot worse than a solid predator.  However, after being exposed to them for many months I realized that it was easier than I thought to slip into this pattern.  I shall share what happened to me in my next update because...

...tonight is the final of Coupe du Monde.  I wish to end this post with my respect to the two nations.   The French who remain sympathetic to migrants even though they suffer reverse-discrimination in their own land.  Cudos for the Croatians who remained modest despite their success during the world cup, keeping to themselves any negative views about other teams.  But what I had not expected was that one individual would rise above all the national flags and shine as the epitome of World Cup 2018: Mr Luka Modric.  His pleasant but calm existence is so reassuring.  It does not matter which flag wins tonight.  His existence and the memory will define the world cup 2018 in years to come.  It is the triumph of an individual which is so gratifying to me who got crushed by the collective power aka corruption.  To be continued.
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