feed rss
le mystère de la chaussette perdue ou le web 2.0 avant l’heure…
Miracle de l’informatique.
Dans un recoin poussiereux de mon Mac, je retrouve un article vieux de 10 ans, que j’avais adressé à un site humoristique tout entier consacré à la vie mystérieuse des chaussettes urbaines, et à leur tendance à finir leurs jours célibataires. Au milieu d’un océan de sites web sérieux remplis d’acronymes celui-là était comme annonciateur d’une réalité plus humaine, où tous les internautes allaient s’unir pour partager leurs joies, leurs peines et avancer vers un monde meilleur sur la base de la contribution de chacun. Le web 2.0 avant l’heure…
J’avais même cru avoir trouvé une recette miracle pour faire fortune rapidement, mais finalement j’étais trop en avance sur mon temps.
Dear James
The story is serious. We have to admit it.
I’ve been confronted to this frightening socks problem for 5 years now, since my girlfriend Agnes and I moved to this new flat.
I’ve renounced to make a collection of my orphan socks. It was too heart-sickening, and the bag was getting bigger than the shoeboxes containing the paired ones.
At the beginning, I must say I suspected Agnes. Some kind of fetishism, of exacerbated love feeling for me. I was secretly flattered. But as time went by, it became more and more dubious that she could have stocked them anywhere in the flat, and her denials had the sound of innocence.
Our housemaid was next on the list. But she lived alone. No husband, no kid, and she was 15 inches smaller than I am. So what the use for her ?
So I accepted the idea of a small goblin, somehow interested in socks, and plausibly one-legged.
Now I see I was wrong. The disease has crossed over the ocean. America is infected. And I know for sure that there can’t be goblins in America. Goblins come from the past, the Middle Ages. They don’t speak English.
I’m now convinced that we have here the first evidence of extraterrestrial presence on the Earth. Something gifted with dematerialisation powers and intelligence (though I wonder what they have after socks…)
It’s our human duty to react to this invasion.
As a French, I first thought of going on strike. Stop wearing socks, in order to disorganize the extraterrestrial economy. But as winter comers along, I was afraid the movement would not have spread widely enough.
So I propose to prepare for a long-lasting war and to make the best of our resources.
Let’s create the N.Y.S.E, the Now Yelling Socks Exchange.
Everyone who has orphans socks send them to me and I will provide her or him with a pair, possibly the same size that the one I received.
The socks should absolutely have been washed and present no hole. Very specific items (like a hand-knitted sock with “to my beloved Balthazar” embroidered) will not be accepted.
The fee is a modest 50 $, payable in advance.
I hope we will so clean the way for victory in the upcoming socks war.
Your multisinglesocked friend,
HS
P.S: En fait il semblerait que l’on ait découvert récemment la vérité: lors d’une longue et pénible migration vers la penderie, les chaussettes disparues se transformeraient en cintre. Tout s’explique !
