For the love of Ukrainian people!

There are a few articles that will drop in the coming weeks because I wrote them in advance and already scheduled them. But I will be a little less active in the coming weeks.

With the crisis in Ukraine I don’t have the motivation to write anything at the moment. My heart and my thoughts go out to the Ukrainian people and to all the people who did not ask for anything and who still find themselves involved in this war hired by a dangerous madman.

If you want to donate, be careful who you donate to. A lot of under shit (sorry for the vulgarity but I have no other words to qualify these people) take advantage of it to make money on the broken lives there.

Я молюся за український народ

Vastlakukkel

During my weekend with Tor, knowing me fancied at this little pastry that is the vastlakukle, he was kind enough to give me this little recipe.

Nice Nilsa, another thing with an unpronounceable name!

What is Vastlakukkel?

Vastlakukkel, also called Semla in Sweden, is a small brioche filled with almond paste and topped with whipped cream.
A symphony of flavors and textures that blend harmoniously to satisfy the palate, a soft whipped cream combined with the charm of almonds.
Yes yes, I worship this little wonder!

Traditionally they are served at Fastelavn, the Monday before Lent, just before Shrove Tuesday.


Vastlakukkle

Ingredients

For the dough

  1. 950 g all-purpose flour (more or less)
  2. 2.5 tablespoons of dried baker’s yeast
  3. 40 cl of milk
  4. 80 g butter, soft
  5. 1 teaspoon of salt
  6. 60g granulated sugar
  7. 3 eggs
  8. 2 tablespoons cardamom (freshly ground)
  9. 2 egg yolks (to glaze)

For the whipped cream

  • 800 ml whipping cream
  • 100 g icing sugar

For the marzipan

  1. 1 egg white
  2. 190 g ground almonds
  3. 100 g icing sugar
  4. 70 g caster sugar
  5. 1 teaspoon of bitter almond extract
  6. ½ teaspoon cardamom (freshly ground)

To conclude this article I had a video of a floor fight but we will say Tor is a shy person ( well in fact he’s too ashamed of the beating I gave him!!! 😛 )

Take care of yourself and your loved one and see you soon!

Ethereal Stories: Shed 66

“ You’ll see, it works, I read that in a magazine of the time.” While remembering the advice of a friend, Ed Hill took a deep breath in order to bring down the anguish. Hopefully, the torment his stomach was inflicting on him will fade away in a saving breath of air.

The air entered his nose, bringing with it the scent of his freshly applied perfume, then rushed into his lungs and finally escaped from his mouth. This sensation, as new as it was, gave him an intense surge of oxygen to his brain, blurring his sight for a few seconds. On the other hand, his stress did not decrease, lack of pot.

Hidden behind the black stage curtains, he could already hear Brian Schmitt, the electrifying robot everyone was raving about. “ Welcome to New Encounters, the show where the world unfolds before your eyes… ”, he perceived from afar. Brian presented the most watched TV show in France and just before joining him, Ed dithered. He was just a scientist, not a star. Why inflict such pressure on yourself?

Nevertheless, the commitments were made, the distribution contracts signed with the hand of a wise automaton and the spirits heated to the bone. It was no longer possible to go back. Her life had just changed drastically and, deep down, Ed hoped that she would upset the lives of many others.

— Ladies and gentlemen, please give a proper welcome to Doctor Ed Hill! Brian declared with conviction.

A resounding thunder of applause rang out from the audience, while a tech robot made sweeping gestures compulsively for Ed to enter the stage. Hesitantly, the latter advanced towards the light, touching in the process the dark fabric which separated him from the tray. A gentle heat caressed his right arm before disappearing in a blinding glare.

— Welcome ! Can I call you Ed? Started Brian to relax the atmosphere, while asking his guest to sit down.
— Of course. he replied, intimidated.

Apart from the stage, illuminated by powerful lights, everything was completely plunged into darkness. The red sensors of the cameras were pointed towards the center, where Ed Hill was going to be filmed for the first time.

— How are you doing ? You look radiant to me.
— I’m glad to be here, Ed said, a grain in his voice.

— You see me delighted. I understand that the events we are going to talk about this evening have not been easy. Will you find it difficult to confide in yourself?

— Don’t worry, I’m ready. You have before your eyes the fruit of several years’ work, as tedious as it is fascinating, Ed confided while pinching his forearm in front of the lens.
— Ah! Was it painful? Brian asked, laughing.
— Let’s just say it tingles a bit, Ed ventured, smiling broadly.

— What humor ! Applaud him, ladies and gentlemen! Doctor Ed Hill! cried Brian.

Cheers broke out from the audience.

— Very well, then Ed, let’s not wait any longer! Tell us about Hangar 66? Brian continued in a calm voice.
— Do you remember your birth factory Brian?
— Like it was yesterday.
— I will put my hand to cut that it looks like two drops of water. In any case, hangar 66 is identical to mine, I was inspired by it. A particular atmosphere hovers there, full of questioning and doubt, but also of excitement and desire, necessary for the development of a marvelous future. The only difference is that it is not robots that come out, but human beings.
— And what a success, cried Brian, waving his arm at his guest.

Applause rang out, then the presenter continued.

— Ed, tell me, why did you want to be first?
— That’s a good question, Brian, Ed replied, brushing his hair with the back of his hand. Quite simply because I am the instigator of this experiment. I would have blamed myself if harmful side effects had occurred on people other than me.
— Precisely, have you had any side effects?
— Not yet, except ravenously hungry,” Ed joked, feeling more and more at ease.

The audience followed him in his euphoria.

— What did you prefer to eat, since your rebirth?
— When I woke up, they brought me what the humans called an Emmenthal ham sandwich.
— How was it ? asked Brian, microphones dangling from Ed’s lips.
— Delicious, I cried.
— Cried, you hear that! Brian cried as he stared at the camera, his voice laced with passion. New emotions overwhelm you? insisted the presenter.
— All the time. It’s only been a few days, but already I’m lost in the twists and turns of my sensitivity. Empathy overwhelms me when I see robots in distress, anger overwhelms me when I observe the price of electricity, and fear immobilizes me when I launch into an interview like this, my brain is boiling and my body reacts accordingly.
— Stunning! How do you handle all of this?
— For now, I suffer more than I manage, I’m not going to lie. We still have a lot to learn. This body is like an alarm bell on constant alert, it’s disconcerting. However, it makes you feel awfully alive.
— What hell ! laughed Brian, while throwing his arms in the sky.
— Nothing to do with god, I assure you, Ed joked.

The spectators burst out laughing.

— Everyone here wants to know Ed., how is the operation going? Brian asked, regaining control of his broadcast.
— The trickiest part is the making of the human body. They are so complex, it’s fascinating. Then just download our consciousness into the brain and you’re done, Ed explained proudly.
— It seems so simple. But, for what reasons? Why do you want to revolutionize the world in this way?
— This experience was born from an observation, which I realized after my first birthday bolts. Like many others, I understood that our mechanical eternity, as important as it is in our eyes, leads us towards a suffocating gloom, in which surprise and adventure no longer have any place. Our archives prove to us that at the time of humans, the world was full of creative energy of all kinds, making the slightest bit of boredom fleeting. Me what I want is to discover what the audacity of mortality can bring to our world in loss of imagination.

A long and heavy “Aaah” escaped from the audience, approving the doctor’s words.

— And do you feel a new energy?
— Just imagine that just this morning, I was wondering what I was going to be able to do with the time that was allotted to me. You see, the fatality of death has a spicy taste of adventure, it’s gripping.
— And what are you going to do with this time?
— I don’t really know, let’s say I’ll take the time to think about it, Ed said humorously.
— Funny! Brian stated firmly. Finally, do you have a message to convey?
— I must say that for the moment, I live an extraordinary experience. My body is only 20 years old, my senses are awake, my brain is fiery and I have only one desire, to share my life with other human beings. To know joy, sadness, love, melancholy and who knows what else. With our robotic wisdom, acquired over our millennia of existence, these emotions are real sources of inspiration, so don’t hesitate! If you feel like living life to the full and dying with panache, head to Hangar 66!
— Magnificent ! It was Brian Schmitt, with Dr. Ed Hill. The first human is reborn from his cybernetic ashes! I wish you a good evening, and see you tomorrow for new new encounters! concludes the presenter, under the ovation of a conquered public.

Kringel

This weekend I visited my friend Tor who is a little depressed. He is a pastry chef and is preparing for a major pastry competition. When there are potentially good things to eat, we can count on my sister and me.

He lives a little far away now but, as a child for a long time, we were very close. It did me a lot of good to see him again even if sleeping at 2 on a sofa that had lived too much for 2 days with a snoring sister was not very restful!!!

So let’s get back to the main subject of this article: the food!!!
Tor gave me the recipe for his kringlers and believe me, they are to die for.

Ok, Nilsa, but what are your “Kring things”?

Kringler or kringle in the singular are the Scandinavian version of the pretzel. Kringle comes from an Old Norse word meaning “ring” or “circle”.
There are several varieties. They can be flaky or made from a yeast dough depending on the region and like pretzels, they can be sweet or savory.


How to make a sweet kringle:

Ingredients:

  • 1 kg of fluid flour
  • 200 ml milk (warm)
  • 8 tablespoons of powdered sugar
  • 4 eggs
  • 100 g unsalted butter (well softened)
  • 20 g dehydrated baker’s yeast
  • 1 teaspoon of salt

Stuffing:

  • 60g butter, melted
  • 3 eggs
  • 130 g almond powder
  • A handful of slivered almonds
  • 5 tablespoons brown sugar
  • A few drops of vanilla extract
  • Chocolate chips (optional)

Toping:

  • 2 egg yolks
  • Flaked almonds

Instructions

stuffing

  1. Beat eggs and brown sugar until tripled in volume and stiff.
  2. Add butter, vanilla extract and ground almonds.
  3. Blend until smooth.

Dough

  1. Mix yeast and sugar with lukewarm milk (heated to around 36 degrees) and set aside for 15 minutes.
  2. In the bowl of the robot, and using the beater utensil, mix the flour and the butter until you obtain a sandy mixture.
  3. Change utensil and insert dough hook.
  4. Make a well in the center of the flour, and place the beaten eggs in it.
  5. Start the robot at low speed and gradually pour in the milk, yeast, sugar mixture, then add the salt, gradually increase the intensity of the robot to medium/high, and knead until you obtain a non-sticky dough. and flexible.
  6. From the moment the dough wraps around the hook, the kneading should last at least 5-7 minutes.
  7. At the end of kneading, the dough must be homogeneous, wrap around the hook, and detach from the sides of the bowl.
  8. Put the dough in a large container, cover it with a cloth and let it rest for 45 minutes in a warm place away from drafts. It should at least double in size.
  9. On a floured work surface, degas the dough and divide it into 6 equal parts.
  10. Roll out each part into a rectangle using a rolling pin.
  11. Spread the stuffing and sprinkle with slivered almonds and chocolate chips.
  12. Roll the dough on itself and form a sausage by tightening it well.
  13. Cut the resulting roll in half lengthwise.
  14. Braid the two pieces obtained together and give the braid a crown shape. Form this braid by tightening well.
  15. Cover with a cloth and let rise for 30 minutes in a warm place.
  16. Preheat the oven to 180˚C convection heat.
  17. Brush with egg yolk, chocolate chips and slivered almonds then bake in a hot oven for 20 to 30 minutes.

Final words

I’m super happy with my comforting little weekend, both for Tor, for my snoring sister and for me.

I hope you like this recipe and that you will enjoy it as much as we do!

Take care of yourself and your loved ones and see you Saturday for a new story!

I love you guys!

Monster Hunter Stories 2

At the moment everyone plays Pokémon Arceus, The proposal of the game made me want but while playing it, the gray and dull side of the graphics made me stop. At this time of year, with the bad weather, I want more colorful games.
Talking to my friends I was recommended Monster Hunter Stories 2.

For me, who only played Monster Hunter World alone (because the chat system sucks when you don’t use a microphone) it was a series of boring monster hunting quests. Of course I am aware that I did it in bad conditions and that it is surely a very good license.
In short at first sight, when I was told about Monster Hunter Stories, I said to myself that it was not for me, but in fact although the game takes place in the same universe as the main series, this Spin- off is very different.

The combat system:

Indeed we find ourselves here with a kind of Pokémon where the scenario would take a much more important place than usual. We are therefore in a turn-based RPG where the character fights monsters himself accompanied by a monster who fights at his side. The combat system is based on the principle of rock-paper-scissors. You can choose a Power, Speed ​​or Technical type attack. Power beats skill, skill beats speed, and ultimately speed beats power. Our character can choose their attack type each turn, but each monster has an associated attack type. So you have to choose the right attack and the monster that best suits the opponent in front of you and change your strategy as needed during the fight, because opponents can also change your strategy.

There is a lot going on during fights in terms of animation and sometimes there are quick-time events; quite frankly it is not always clear what triggers what; the combat system is deep and looks complex, but remains simple and intuitive.

On the strategy side, it is possible to attack specific parts of the monsters or to use a specific weapon which will be more effective in a given situation. For example, when a monster is holding a rock in front of him as a shield, it’s best to switch weapons to a hammer to break his makeshift shield. At the end of the fight we are rewarded with loots.

Craft and exploration:

As in the main series, crafting is also central to the “Stories” experience. In addition to the pieces of monsters that we pick up after a fight, we can also pick up all kinds of plants, insects, ores and other resources in nature, which will be used to make weapons and armor, but also potions and others. objects that can be used during combat and in the exploration phases. Equipment crafting is simplified with a point system instead of absolutely requiring specific items. When we craft an armor, it is the whole that we craft and not each piece individually as in the main series.

To expand your team of monsters here you have to find eggs and then hatch them. Sometimes you can even come across a “Shiny” monster. During a fight, only one of our monsters is activated at a time, although we can interchange in the middle of the fight. What drives us to explore.
I have a lot of fun exploring the world of Monster Hunter Stories 2. We are a rider, a rider who can ride on the back of his monsters. We find open and visually rich landscapes where there are always monsters to fight, resources to pick up or secrets to discover. Some areas will only be accessible if you have the right monster activated. For example, some can jump, some can climb, and some can go in the water. We can come back at any time in the regions already explored if ever you do not have the right monster in your team at the moment. The teleportation points already discovered allow you to quickly move from one point to another in the world.

To conclude:

I am very far from having finished the game but I take a huge pleasure in playing it.

  • The game is very beautiful although there are some slowdowns (little annoying) on Nintendo Switch, which must be absent from the PC version;
  • There are plenty of things to do;
  • The story is interesting and although quite public it is not as childish as some Pokémon (no need to have played the first one to understand it);
  • A rich and interesting combat system without being too complex.
  • Exploration is super fun…

In short, if you ever don’t have a switch, that Pokémon Arceus bores you, does not interest you or simply if you like good RPGs, I strongly advise you to play Monster Hunter Stories 2. My only regret is not having played earlier.

Take care of yourself and your loved ones and see you soon!

Ethereal Stories: Witches.com

Today I post a text I wrote for an old project, making a short movie or a play with my sis and friends a few years ago. It never happened but one day maybe… Who knows?

Not being Spielberg and not having an unlimited budget, I wrote this story with several constraints. It needed a unity of location to avoid having to multiply decors and then a contemporary setting to avoid having too many costumes.
Good despite all that I hope that the story will be pleasant!

Witches.com


http://www.mirageboghandel.com

“Welcome, people of Sidh, to the supernatural site of the mirage boghandel bookshop, run by Christiana Spandemager* , licensed witch.
Here you will find all types of rare, exotic, forbidden, bewitched and other original books, available on demand or on order.
Proof of your belonging to the People of Below will be required for any purchase of an item of category 3 or higher.
If you wish to meet us, physically or esoterically, the contact tab will allow you to find our address in Copenhagen, as well as the signature of our psychic presence.
The bookstore and all its staff thank you for your visit. »

I

Well, that should do the trick. Anyway, it’s not like I got paid for this job. And then my mother can’t tell the difference between a bookstore’s website and a Facebook page, so good… That’s also why I was chosen.

Christiana, my mother, has run this bookstore since she was eighteen and she is very proud of it. The apple of his eye. Not like me. You should also know that, in the family, we have been witches from mother to daughter for more than thirty generations. In other words, a lot of time. And then there was me. A failure in the family tree, no doubt. For me, Eleanore, sixteen years old and all my teeth, witch’s daughter, witch’s granddaughter, etc. I inherited absolutely none of the family gifts. But really none, not the slightest talent for sorcery. I am unable to cast even a minor incantation or craft an itch charm. Not even a small potion of nothing at all. Still, any fool with a recipe and the right ingredients should be able to make a decent potion, but not me, no. Nothing.

I chuckle now, but it wasn’t easy at first. When it was realized that I did not have the slightest magic power, the disappointment was great. And if I got used to it fairly quickly, my mother did not. She just couldn’t accept that the daughter of the most powerful witch in Copenhagen, and probably this half of Denmark, could be an ordinary human without the slightest supernatural ability. She lived in denial for quite a while, trying more and more exotic incantations in an attempt to reveal my magical abilities. Of course, it didn’t work.

When she finally came to terms, she just decided that the rest of the world didn’t need to know who I was. Out of the question that the other inhabitants of Sidh learn that his daughter was a “disabled person”. This means that almost all of the People Below know nothing of my existence, with a few exceptions, such as Fatima or Alibert, whom I have known for a very long time.

Speaking of Fatima, here she comes to check that I’m not sabotaging the work out of resentment towards my mother. She walks through the door gracefully, tall, thin and imperious, her long hair flowing behind her. She smiles at me, sits down next to me, and casts a doubtful glance at my computer screen.

— The design isn’t too bad, but you should enlarge the font. What is the password to access the esoteric part of the site?
— Abracadabra.
“You’ve always had a deplorable sense of humor. Keep the presentation page, but change the background color, it’s too dull. What do you have to click on to get to the part reserved for Sidh?
— On the “m” of Mirage. It opens a page that asks you for the password, and if you give the right one, you get there. Besides, you and mom will have to distribute the flyers at the next black moon meeting, and tell the others to spread the word. Then, once on the site, you just have to choose from the items offered by my mother. I have classified them by subject and by dangerousness.

— Cool. So if I’m looking for the new “Handbook of Magical Deep Sea Plants”, I go first to “Botany” then to “Aquatic” and finally to “Level 2”, right?

— Exactly. There are also the dates and the authors, when they are known. And I’m almost done setting up the keyword search.

Fatima gives me a few more suggestions, before we abandon digital in favor of gossip. She always has an impressive number of juicy news under her belt, I sometimes wonder how she does it and if she isn’t using a little magic to collect all this information.

Fatima is my best friend and also the only one who belongs to the People of Sidh. She also descends from a very long line of wizards, dating back to a priest of the 9th dynasty of ancient Egypt, but her talents are the pride of her parents.
She was the one who had the idea for this website. In less than two days, she had managed to convince my mother that it would be excellent for business, she who until then had considered the internet an extension of Satan (not such a bad bugger, according to Mom, but very badly raised). The next day, I found myself mandated to create the bookstore’s website, with its hidden pages reserved for the People Below. My mother had made me understand that I had to do it well, and above all manage without her since technology and all its derivatives are a form of magic that remains completely hermetic.

II

A muffled scrape above our heads suddenly interrupts our conversation, followed by another. Fatima looks at me questioningly. I shrug, running a hand through my hair.

— It’s Alibert. Don’t worry, he moves furniture when he’s pissed off, and he’s had a really bad night.

Alibert is the vampire who lives in the attic. About four hundred years old, dainty, misanthropic, and completely outdated by the current century, it’s usually not a cumbersome roommate.
“Alibert?” Fatima asks with interest. What happens to him?

“He and my mom spent most of the night arguing loudly over one of Mom’s latest acquisitions. He ended up going to sulk, slamming the door to his room. It happens to him from time to time.
I understand my mistake when I see a glint light up in my friend’s eyes.
“A book by Christiana?” What kind of book?

— No idea, I say in a voice as neutral as possible.

But Fatima has already jumped out of her chair and is heading for the door.

— I want to see that ! Your mother isn’t coming home right away, is she? Come on, come on!

I personally think that this is a potential lot of problems, but I know from experience that when Fatima has an idea in her head, nothing can get her out of it, especially since my mother always has some pretty interesting stuff in store. So I get up with a sigh of resignation to follow her slowly down the stairs. The bookstore takes up the entire ground floor of the house we live in, filled with old, dusty books. Fatima doesn’t even glance at it. The real treasures are in the back room, where Mom keeps the goods for the Underpeople. Fatima starts rummaging everywhere.

— No chance that it is already referenced on the site?
— No, I haven’t had time to register this week’s arrivals yet.
Leaning against the door frame, I watch her move in all directions.
— Ah! she exclaims suddenly, straightening up, a big book with a cracked leather binding in her hands. That must be it.

She gently puts down the old grimoire, which must weigh a dead donkey given its size, then dusts it gently with her sleeve.
“So let’s see what we have here…
The cover is faded black, with a huge moonstone embedded in it and no visible title. Fatima tries to open it, without success despite her best efforts. She frowns, pouts, then whispers an incantation close to the crevices of the old leather. Nothing to do, the book remains stubbornly closed.

— Very well, sir is difficult. So we have to get down to business.

She spreads her arms to either side of her body, and begins to whisper words of power. Her beautiful black eyes turn milky white, her hair stands on end, forming a dark halo around her, her feet rise a few centimeters off the ground. It would be very impressive if I hadn’t already seen it done a thousand times. So I just shove my hands in my pockets, munching gum with a scowl.
Suddenly, the book begins to emit a slight hiss, which intensifies little by little. Then, with a hiss of rusty hinge and a vaguely eerie glow, it slowly opens, its pages scrolling by one after another. Then, in a cloud of dust, a flash of red light escapes from the book and flies towards the door of the shop, overturning all the books that are in its path.

For quite a long time, we said nothing, Fatima’s surprised eyes fixed on the grimoire, and my eyes scanning the mess in my mother’s bookshelves with a bored air.

— Well, decides to say my friend, what was that?

— No idea, you’re the witch. And I also want to tell you that it’s also you who will put away this mess before mom comes back.

Fatima gives me an annoyed look before leaning over the book. She mumbles, then winces.

— I can not read this thing, come here!

I approach cautiously and lay my eyes on the cryptic texts spread out before us.

— Don’t know.
I speak ancient Egyptian, ancient Greek, and Sumerian, but it’s not one of those languages. And you ?
— I did Latin and Aramaic, my mother insisted, but that’s not it either.

It was then that, coming from the depths of the earth, a dull rumble was heard, immediately followed by what sounded like an earthquake. The floor begins to vibrate, the walls to shake, the furniture to move and the books to tumble. I find myself with my buttocks on the ground, my coccyx in pain, Fatima’s knee in my ribs. Then everything stops.
I get up, help my friend to do the same, then we look at each other for a moment with the same thought: what the fuck?

III

— Uh, Fatima?
— Yes I know. You think that…
— “Does that have anything to do with the lightning bolt earlier?” Yes.
— Yeah, that’s what I thought too. Alright, so what do we do?

Our eyes are at the same time on the old book.

— The question is knowing what exactly we released.
— But we understand nothing of what is marked.
— Yes, it is a problem.

Our eyes meet again, then we smile at the same time.

— “Alibert!”

Fatima grabs the collection, slips it under her arm, then follows me down the narrow, dark stairwell toward the attic. I climb the stairs four by four, grab the ladder that goes under the eaves and drum at the hatch. It opens abruptly, revealing the aristocratic and upset face of Alibert.

— What, what is it? You don’t wake people up at such an hour! First that tremor out of nowhere, and now this. It is still daylight.
— I’m sorry Alibert, but it’s an emergency. We need a linguist.

I see a glint of interest light up in his tawny eyes. The vampire has used his immortality to learn every language, living or dead, he knows of.

After a period of reflection almost long enough to be vexing, he ends up stepping aside slowly to let us enter his lair, then stretches out his hands to greedily grab the book Fatima presents to him.

—Ah! he exclaims triumphantly, laying his eyes on it. I knew that one would be a problem, I said so. A magic lock of such power after all this time…

He places it on an antique lectern and opens it reverently, gently stroking the cover with his long, slender fingers.

— Yes, he mutters, an old book, very old, a lot of power locked in there…
He continues his merry-go-round for a moment, then begins to decipher.
— “So, reiker, no, erek… utar, hmm, that word, maybe alum?” Hmmm…

Fatima and I are not moving, waiting for his verdict.

— It’s a Bad Norse translation of a very old and almost forgotten dialect. A little gem. Wait, I’m trying to understand. Memory…bad…jail?

Suddenly, he throws his head back with a small cry of a wounded animal, before turning to us, his eyes wide with terror.

— When…when you opened this book, did anything unusual happen?

My friend and I exchange an embarrassed look.

— “It’s possible,” I said cautiously.

The vampire starts shaking all over, which normally only happens when he discovers a stain on one of his Armani shirts.

— My God, he says in a low voice (which is the equivalent of an apocalyptic swearword with him), ‘the earthquake, I didn’t imagine it, was it? I believe that you have just condemned Copenhagen.
—Sorry ?

IV

Fatima doesn’t seem to find it funny, her lips pursed in a thin line, her fingers clenched as if she were about to strangle Alibert. I place a soothing hand on his arm before glaring at the vampire.

— Would you care to explain to us what exactly it is all about?

He drops into a Louis XIV armchair with a dramatic expression and puts a tearful wrist to his forehead, like the diva he is. His attitude is starting to piss me off, so I plant my hands on my hips, stand my full height above him, and put on my sternest face.

— Alibert, you’re going to tell us what you know, or I’ll tell Mama that it was you who encouraged us to open the book.

His shocked look is comical. My mother scares the crap out of him.

— You wouldn’t do that!
— Are you sure ?

Silence. I raise an eyebrow.

— Very well very well ! I was going to tell you about it, anyway. You know, of course, about the monster that sleeps under the foundations of the city?

Fatima nods knowingly as I open my mouth in disbelief. Eh ? But I am absolutely not aware of such a thing! What is this story ?
They explain to me. Apparently everyone in Sidh (apart from me) knows that the bases in Copenhagen were built to imprison a sleeping monster, which my mother obviously didn’t see fit to tell me. What kind of monster? No idea. Why is he imprisoned? No idea either. How was he asleep? Always nothing. It has been there for more than two thousand years, without moving, so long in fact that no one cares about it anymore, as if it were just part of folklore. In short, we are no further ahead.
“What has to do with the flash that escaped from the book?”
Alibert clears his throat, which does not conform to the character.
“Well, it seems that this book served as a container for a wake-up spell designed specifically for the monster in question.

— It’s annoying.
— Yes indeed.
— So the earthquake just now?
— Probably the monster that was starting to wake up.
— So it’s not over?
— I do not think so. From what is written here, we have about twenty-four hours to put him back to sleep before he breaks free from his prison and destroys Copenhagen.
— Okay, it’s doable. How do we put him back to sleep?
— I don’t know, there’s nothing marked about it. It just says “see the Sayings of the mage Hreidmar” or something like that.
— Oh.

V

New silence. We all look each other in the eye, not really knowing what to do. Then suddenly, enlightenment. I rush to the hatch to reach my room on the floor below, and come back with my laptop. Alibert doesn’t have one, he doesn’t even have a telephone, since he pretends not to know of the existence of any technology dating from after the 17th century. Note, however, that this aversion to the modern does not extend to clothing.
My two companions throw me looks of incomprehension.

—The catalog !

Fatima understands where I’m coming from, but Alibert continues to stare at me in bewilderment. I explain:

— I’ve almost finished cataloging Mom’s books on the site. If the solution exists, it must be somewhere in there.

I log on and start browsing the bookstore’s website, encouraged by Fatima’s suggestions.

— Look at “monsters”. No ? “Copenhagen” perhaps? “Spell Release”?

Minutes pass, our search is still fruitless and Alibert begins to question my genius idea with mocking remarks.

And then, he’s not laughing at all when the ground starts shaking again, not very hard, without violence, a bit like one of those sports machines supposed to help you lose weight. But it vibrates, undeniably. We exchange worried looks.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“The monster’s awakening?” Probably.

— Well, says Fatima, let’s try to deal with the problem in a logical way. Where are we most likely to find a spell capable of putting back to sleep a gigantic monster that has been imprisoned for millennia beneath Copenhagen?
— “The mage thingie perhaps?”
— “Hreidmar?” It’s not stupid. We should even have started there. Start the search!
— I Have Something: A Guide to Ancient Treatises on Magic, Section M.

Fatima and I rush downstairs, leaving Alibert in his attic, which he can’t leave as long as it’s light. We rush into the shelves of my mother’s shop, jostling the books that have already fallen to gain access to the M section. Each of us tackles one end of the section.

— I got it ! shouts Fatima after a few minutes.

She pulls a rather shabby book from the shelves and immediately opens it to find the passage she is looking for. She flips through the pages excitedly. Suddenly, I see her turn pale.

— What ? Fatima, what’s going on?

She hands me the gaping work. I read, after extrapolating the meaning of the text in Old Norse:

— The parchments of the Tales of the mage Hreidmar, containing in particular the runic sleep spell used to put to sleep in the entrails of købmandshavn** the very last argelot of the known world, were lost during the 13th century. No copy has ever been found. »

I look up at Fatima, who is looking at me with a look of despair.

— What shall we do now ? A silver buck is… This is very bad news.

I don’t answer, lost in thought, frowning, pursed lips. Indeed, the argelot, a kind of gigantic psychopathic vulture endowed with magical powers, is not really the kind of animal that we want to release in Copenhagen. For a long time, I think hard, in silence, facing the anxious expectation of my best friend.

— Fatima, your magic, how powerful is it?
— Very powerful, the most powerful in my family for ten generations. Almost as much as your mother, I would say.
— Well, then I think we can try something.
— What ?
— We’re going to do exactly like Hreidmar: we’re going to put the monster to sleep.
— But we do not have the spell!
— We don’t need it. I told you, we’re not going to put him back to sleep, we’re just going to put him to sleep. Now that we know what it is as a species, we can make one ourselves, a spell, we don’t need the mage’s.

VI

— I’m not very good at writing spells…
— Me, yes. You can’t imagine how many my mother made me invent hoping that it would awaken my gifts for magic. Sure, it didn’t work, but at least now I’ve got the concept under control.
— But it won’t work! I don’t mean to upset you, Eleanore, but your spells never work.
— They don’t work when I throw them. But if it’s you…
Little by little, I see Fatima’s eyes light up.
— It can work…

No more is needed. I immediately get to work, paper and pencil in hand, and half an hour later, I’m satisfied enough with my work to hand it to Fatima. Fortunately, moreover, because the vibrations of the ground have noticeably increased. My friend gives me a dubious look.

— Are you sure of yourself?
— Reasonably. Anyway, we have nothing else on hand.

Fatima nods, then begins, her voice full of power:

— That deep in the city of Copenhagen
The immortal argelot rests
And that on the forehead of the sleeping monster
Oblivion forever arises.

We wait a moment, anxious, but nothing happens. The ground continues to vibrate and the walls to shake. Fatima clears her throat.

— Well, maybe it’s time to call your mother.

I look at her in disbelief, my eyes wide like saucers.

— Are you crazy ? Do you realize she’s going to murder us?
— Eli, I don’t have too many solutions left.
— But I have not said my last word.

I recover my computer to continue my excavations on the site, more and more desperate. Finally, I breathe a sigh of relief. Searching for the word “sleepiness” came up with something. Occult lullabies, section F.
A few minutes later, we have the book. The ground vibrates so much that you have to hold on to the walls to avoid falling. Another long moment of laborious translation from Aramaic, then Fatima and I exchange a skeptical look.

— “To increase the power of a sleeping spell, link the power of words to that of music using the tune and lyrics of a children’s lullaby. Watches love it. »

Good, and bah since it is necessary. I set to work and ended up handing Fatima the piece of paper that, with a bit of luck, will save us all.

— So you’re going to have to sing it to the tune of “Twinkle little star”, that’s all I found in a hurry.

She lets out a sigh.

— Very well.

Again, she lets the power invade her, begins to levitate, rolls back her eyes, her hair stands on end. Then, in a sepulchral voice, she begins to hum
Fatima begins to shimmer with magic, as the invisible filaments that bind her to the world appear. Her voice rings out, as if the universe responds with a deep echo to the power of her words. The song seems to glide through the air, sink to the ground, then get absorbed and disappear. Then, the continuous shaking of the floor and the walls abruptly ceases.
The witch lands on her feet, looking exhausted. She turns to me, a slight smile on her lips.

— “I believe we succeeded. Your spell worked, Eleanore.

I smile at her too, then burst out laughing, before looking around the room and grimacing. The worst is not yet over.

— “We make a good team, you and I, after all. But now that we’ve saved the town, and possibly the world, the hardest part remains: cleaning up the shop before Mom gets home, and finding a really good lie to tell her to justify…well, everything. Ah, and I hope you have a Nostalgia potion or two on hand, because you’re going to have to bribe Alibert so that the truth about what happened today never comes out of the attic. We have to be able to establish with certainty that these earthquakes have nothing to do with us and that we know nothing about them. Because otherwise, I don’t think all the powers in the world will stop my mother from killing us.

The end

Notes:

* Spandemager: Spandemager is the name of the first woman burned for witchcraft in Denmark in 1543.
** Købmandshavn: Former name of Copenhagen which means “the port of traders”.

Ethereal Stories: The Ventriloquist

Today I bring you a horror story. The beginnings of this story were written some time ago, quite a long time in fact. I started writing it shortly after my accident. I found it in a pile of writings that my grandmother kept, then I reworked it to become what it is today. This story comes from the bottom of me so I’m very attached to it, but I know that it may not please everyone.

If you want something happier, I suggest you wait until next week for another much lighter story.

Attention:

This story was written at a time when I was not doing very well and is much darker than what I usually write. I’m talking about violent scenes that might shock some people and I use profanity there.

The Ventriloquist

I

The man wore an old-fashioned black suit, he sported a thin mustache and his searching eyes were like two balls of hot coals. He was tall and thin, almost inconceivably. Alicia cringed when she saw him on her doorstep. A strange apprehension gripped her, gripping her heart in a vice of ice.
The stranger entered the vestibule. Discovering a razor-blade smile, he said in a honeyed voice without even introducing himself:

To form a couple, it inevitably takes two, is not it?

Uncomfortably, Alicia nodded. However, she did not understand what the man was talking about. The young woman bitterly regretted the absence of her husband: Paul would never have allowed this individual to enter their house! He had a holy horror of door-to-door salesmen, especially when they were as intrusive as this one. Intrusive…and bizarre, with its long, spindly body, which reminded Alicia of a horrible stick insect with a human face…
In the hallway, the stranger gave her a wink.

“Relax, dear! he declared. You have nothing to fear. They call me Benitor, the miracle worker. My partner and I are here to help you…

Alicia winced: her partner? Until proven otherwise, the seller was alone. No one accompanied him. At least, so far…
The man reached inside his black suit. Alicia had the absurd belief that he was a pervert. The patient was about to throw himself on her, armed with a kitchen knife, a taser or an ice pick… But the intruder contented himself with extracting a soft and shapeless mass, similar to a mask of rubber. He quickly put it on his right hand. A rattling voice then rose:

— Bonjour, ma petite ! Je suis Compère, l’assistant de Monsieur Benitor, mon bon maître… Son bras droit, en quelque sorte ! Enfin, l’assistant, c’est un peu facile : d’un bout à l’autre des Mondes, comme à l’intérieur des Cercles d’ailleurs, c’est moi qui me tape tout le boulot !

The so-called Benitor raised his shark gaze to the sky, as if to say: “Ah! He’s starting again!”

A ventriloquist! Well, as a way of selling, Alicia had to acknowledge that it was original. However, she remained anxious, almost frightened, because the puppet was not reassuring. It was a head, obviously that of a man, with a pale complexion and blue lips, stringy hair and eye sockets filled with darkness. Morbid, was the word that came to the young woman’s mind, and it was the adjective that best suited this hideous figure.

The thing resumed:

— We are here to offer you a unique offer, which you cannot refuse. Yes, yes, I assure you: no need to play scared sluts!

Alicia doubted she had heard correctly. For a moment, she thought she would take to her heels. But, paralyzed by fear, she remained incapable of the slightest reaction. And something, in the stick man’s sooty gaze, nailed her to the spot…
Adopting the cavernous tone of his own voice, and wearing a serious countenance, Benitor continued:

— Be sure that we understand your sadness. We sympathize. After all, fate has befallen your husband. It’s natural for you to be upset…

Buddy spat on the ground, at Alicia’s feet. A reddish spit, within which a horde of maggots was struggling. The young woman felt her heart racing. But, stunned by what she had just heard, she found herself once again unable to make the slightest gesture. Paul had been in hospital for two weeks, in critical condition following a serious car accident. He lay in a coma, and doctors were pessimistic about his chances of ever waking up.
How did this stranger know her husband? And then, what did he want?

— You’ll soon understand,” the disfigured puppet gritted, as if reading his thoughts. We have come to offer you our services, because we are able to help you. Finally, it was he who insisted, above all…

The mask nodded in the direction of its master.

— I was just going to take it easy,” he continued. But hey: it’s the great chef who leads the way! Anyway, what you need to know is that your husband can be cured today…

Alicia blinked, but didn’t formulate her thoughts. Nevertheless, the human head belched:

— Of course it’s true! What do you think ? That we came to cut the piece of fat, while your stupid husband slaps?

The word “slap” was accompanied by a deluge of scarlet sputters.

— So, the mask said, like I said, he could come home and you’d be free to get laid again, and everything and everything… At least, if you wanted to?

The sentence remained suspended, like a slap in the face. Of course she wanted him more than anything!

Benitor took the floor again to exclaim cheerfully:

— Good ! In that case, all you have to do is give us your okay, dear, so that we can get your husband back on his feet. My partner and I have exceptional power, which I like to call a gift. The power of life over death.

Alicia felt her heart skip a beat. If it was a joke, it turned out to be in very bad taste! Nevertheless, somewhere deep inside her, the young woman knew that an incredible thing was happening. She felt it dimly in the way the stranger spoke, in his horrible puppet parody, and in that strange vibration that seemed to cloud the air.

In a calm tone, the Tick-insect-man continued:

— Know, however, that in return, I will come and take what is rightfully mine. This is an honest deal, made between well-meaning people…

Compère partit d’un rire éraillé.

— So, continued Benitor, I ask you again: will you allow us to save your husband? Without quick action on our part, he will die, I can guarantee you that.

The young wife was flabbergasted by the audacity of the seller. However, driven by despair, she found herself sketching an affirmative nod. After all, what did she have to lose?

Benitor then declared, loud and clear:

— All in good time ! Your wish will be granted, and we will exercise our special gift on your loved one to save him. As for us, we will see each other very soon!

Buddy laughed again, an icy croak that twisted Alicia’s eardrums and hammered her skull. Then the ventriloquist also emitted a strident air, a shrill melody reminiscent without question…
The phone woke her up and the dream slipped away like a thief. The young woman sat on the edge of her bed, her head in her hands. She remained shaken for a moment: what a delirious dream! So real… But she didn’t have much time to think about it anymore, because the phone kept whining.

Alicia walked fearfully towards the bell, not daring to grab the receiver. This call in the middle of the night seemed like an ominous sign. Before she could stop, she picked up the phone.

— Hello?

C’était l’hôpital. Paul était miraculeusement sorti du coma. Ses jours ne se trouvaient plus en danger. Alicia remercia l’infirmière, raccrocha, puis se laissa glisser sur le sol où elle pleura à chaudes larmes.

II

A few days later, Paul came home. Life then resumed its course. The couple took advantage of the smallest pleasures of existence. Both seemed happy, truly, because they knew ephemeral happiness.
However, a shadow marred this idyllic picture.

Alicia felt that her husband was hiding something from her. Paul did his best to appear comfortable, but he often looked distant, bewildered, as if lost in a trying memory. The young woman was burning with desire to know the cause of this hassle, without however daring to question it. Her husband had just recovered from a coma; she didn’t want to rush him.

Finally, one evening when the couple was comfortably installed in their little garden, contemplating a magnificent starry vault, Paul confided. Feverish, he seemed unable to contain himself from speaking.

— I don’t know if you’re going to believe me, Alicia. Perhaps you will take me for a madman? However, I must tell you what happened, just before I came out of the coma…

Her voice sounded hesitant, which surprised Alicia. Her husband had always been someone strong, thoughtful and collected. But this thing that had been gnawing at him since his return… “ He came so close to death ”, she thought, shuddering.

Enough to shake the strongest of men.

— I was in complete darkness, he began anxiously. An intense darkness, almost palpable, which seemed to stretch to infinity. I was vaguely aware of being awake, but not really. It was a dream, or maybe a nightmare, but it was also very real…

Paul secoua la tête, frustré de ne parvenir à mieux s’exprimer. Il cherchait ses mots, incapable de trouver ceux qui auraient retranscrit au mieux son expérience.

— Quand ils sont apparus, reprit-il en frémissant, j’ai d’abord vu l’homme. Il m’a fait penser à un colporteur. Ce fut le mot qui me vint sur le moment, même si j’ignore pourquoi. Il semblait anormalement grand et mince, comme un insecte répugnant…

Alicia felt a deep unease as her own dream resurfaced. Her mind monopolized by Paul’s awakening, she had completely concealed the insane dream. Now the stick man came back to him.

With growing terror, she listened to the rest of the story.

— He held the head of a puppet, horrible, repulsive. Both approached me. I still couldn’t move or run away. I didn’t want to, however, believe me!

Alicia thought about the paralysis that had taken hold of her, in her own nightmare. A shiver ran down his spine.

— L’homme a tendu cette chose vers moi, continua Paul d’une voix défaillante. Cette horrible tête boursouflée… La marionnette s’est mise à dévorer un truc noir qui sortait de mon corps. Un genre de mélasse, ou je ne sais quoi. La créature mastiquait en provoquant des bruits atroces…

Paul paused. Alicia took his hand, both to support him and to reassure herself. When the young man spoke again, he seemed a little calmer.

— The most delirious thing is that it made me feel good! he wondered. Gradually, I regained awareness of the real world. As if this strange duo took hold of the evil lodged in me. Then I woke up.

Alicia remained silent. What could she have said? Her husband lived, that was all that mattered. She was afraid of shocking him, even traumatizing him, by evoking her own dream. Then she was silent, and the two embraced each other tenderly under the stars.

III

The night after Paul’s story, Alicia dreamed again. The ventriloquist reappeared, alone this time. He was smiling amiably, like an old friend met on the street. However, his arrival owed nothing to chance.
Alicia thanked him warmly for granting her wish.

— It’s nothing, Benitor assured him. And then I didn’t do much. It is Compère who should be congratulated, he who courageously took hold of the disease from which your husband suffered. Unfortunately, the poor perished in the business. This is how…

Alicia wanted to tell him how sorry she was, but the man didn’t give her time.

— I’m here to remind you of our market, he went on. You allowed us to save your husband, and now I’m coming back to take what’s mine. It’s because, you see, I can’t practice without a partner. I need someone through whom to transmit my gift. Since you had my help, it only seems right to return the favor. That is why…

As he spoke, Benitor pulled an ax from under his long black coat. Alicia stared at the blade, horrified and fascinated.

— You will understand, and forgive me, what is to follow. I am sure !

The ax sliced through the air and sliced clean through the young woman’s neck. His work done, Benitor bent down to take hold of his head. He put it on his right hand, like an ugly scarlet mitten. The magic worked and the face took on a demonic grin.

— To form a couple, it inevitably takes two, is not it? said it in a nasal voice.

Epilogue

When Paul awoke the next morning, he discovered with amazement, lying in the bloody sheets, the headless body of Alicia.

The history of TV Shows

Before becoming the dominant audiovisual format that we know today, recognized by some as the 8th art, offering us many and many heroes accompanying us on a daily basis for several years and on several platforms, tv series made their timid appearance long after the cinema.


It was at the end of the 1940s that television series were born in the United States. Why then are you going to tell me? Quite simply because it was at this time that television was commercially produced and invaded homes en masse. Of course, above all, without television…. Well there is no TV series!

The genesis

The appearance of the TV series is therefore the result of numerous technical, scriptwriting and narrative attempts carried out on different media and in particular radio.
You probably know soap operas?

but if, don’t do like there, these stupid things where the same thing always happens like “The young and the restless”, “Santa Barbara” and so on. Well even if it can be hard to hear, know that Breaking bad, X-files, Peaky blinders, Game of thrones and even The Wire are its descendants. Indeed, soap operas were a hit on the radios in the early 1930s for several reasons. First of all because like today’s series they have a very specific target, here the American housewife, the taste for theatrical twists, a multi-episode format to keep the housewife as long as possible and above all the talent to relaunch and constantly maintain the viewer’s attention. Basically the basics of all series today.

This radio origin largely explains why TV series have for years put more emphasis on the script than on the production. Although of course there are many exceptions!
And here I feel that you are wondering

“Hey, but why are they called “soap opera”? »

Quite simply because they were sponsored by detergent brands. Yeah, that’s a disappointing explanation.


Short ! In 1928 General Electric develops its famous W2XB, that is to say a television channel, an electromechanical TV station which will allow the first broadcasts of TV shows but also of the very first television fiction, “The Queen’s Messenger “. Obviously the result is not crazy, the image keeps disappearing and reappearing but the goal at the time was above all to test this technology which was going to revolutionize, for better or for worse, our fashions. of life !

The first golden age

From 1948 we entered the first golden age of the TV series with 4 channels that would broadcast non-stop. This is how we see series of 3 types appear:


  • The “soap opera” therefore, of which they adapt the radio versions to the screen while integrating an advertising page at the beginning. (Well yeah the guys are no less stupid than at YouTube huh.)

  • The sitcom, abbreviation of “Situation and Comedy”, whose episodes are shot in the studio, live in front of an audience, and which will experience the enormous success that we know of him by educating us until today as “bewitched », « Friends » or even « The office »!
    Thank you “I love Lucy” who is responsible for the popularity of the genre until today! And which, moreover, it is important to note, was the work of a woman, Lucille Ball, who then approached the theme of female emancipation through work. Something rare at the time, since sitcoms were above all an opportunity to broadcast a lot of Puritan values ​​to the American public. Remark…. our European values ​​were not necessarily better!
  • Finally, the last genre is the Anthology or drama. That is to say, a more dramatic TV series which will mainly consist of more or less filming plays. And we will not regret this format because it allowed the emergence of Marlon Brando, James Dean, Paul Newman and Sidney Lumet!

Then as soon as the technique makes it possible to record the series, without necessarily shooting live, the format will evolve by trying out different genres such as with “Alfred Hitchcock presents”, or even “The Twilight Zone”. Flagship series of this first golden age, which could be described as an author series, since its creator, Rod Serling wrote ⅔ of the 156 episodes by addressing a lot of metaphysical, philosophical and societal subjects. (Yes I’m a fan!!!!)

But at the end of the 1950s, 7 of the most watched series were Westerns, simply because it was the fashionable genre in cinema at the time. Which proves in passing the strong synergy between the TV series and the cinema.

In short, the series are beginning to have a real purpose, and represent, like all works, the spirit of their time. And at the end of the 1960s, there were clearly 2 currents in this tune that clashed on television. That of the conservative and puritan America of the 50s, praising the family against that of the counterculture and the sexual liberation of the 1960s. And of course in the middle of all that there is a whole gradient nuances, as for example with “Bewitched”, where the image of the housewife changes a little thanks to her magical powers. Without, however, ever questioning her place as housewife, ultimately returning her to the archaic vision of a witch woman.


We also see series with an anti-communist unconscious, where extraterrestrials infiltrate humanity as in “The Invaders”, or, on the contrary, those representing the fantasy of an America carrying democracy and bringing peace throughout the world. with “Star Trek”


Then the format will gradually be revolutionized with series like “Columbo”, which breaks the narrative codes by reversing them, or even “The Wild Wild West”, “Mission: impossible”, etc.

Okay, it’s interesting what’s happening in the United States, but where we are?
In Europe, it is above all Great Britain which occupies the front of the stage in this regard, and which continues to occupy it well elsewhere. This is how we owe them great classics like “The Avengers” (NO! I won’t make the joke about the guys in tights), “Doctor Who” and “The Prisoner”.


True work anchored in its time and addressing many political and social themes such as the alienation of man in the face of a capitalist and bureaucratic world.

So yes, I don’t often talk about politics on my blog but those who know me won’t be surprised to see me using words such as “capitalism” and “alienation” 2, 3 times anyway! By the way, to stay within the theme, here are some examples of series from this era that say a lot about the political and social context in which they were born. And no, I promise you it won’t be boring!

At the end of the 1960s, the parenthesis of flower power closed around the Vietnam War and an authoritarian policy. Progressives and reactionaries face each other more than ever and inevitably that infuses in a good number of series. And the one perfectly embodying this opposition, is :


“All in the family”, where a young hippie faces his reactionary father-in-law. In the same line we can cite “Happy days” or “Little House on the Prairie” where we feel the fantasy of a past era and above all a desire to return to the pre-hippie years.


But we also see the emergence of feminist ideas such as equal pay or how women can live their celibacy with the series The Mary Tyler Moore Show. Or even an anti-militarist thought in the satirical series M.A.S.H.


America is also trying to face its slavery past with the series “Roots” without offering real roles to African-Americans in the series of the time. Which clearly shows the limits of such a format, always caught up in a societal unconscious where mores take a long time to evolve. A very good example of this is the “charlie’s angels” series:


At first glance we see 3 women who have been able to emancipate themselves from their social status and housewives, by studying and integrating a rather masculine job, policeman. Then it is indeed because they still occupy thankless tasks assigned to women that they emancipate themselves once again from their work by integrating a private agency where they will finally be in the foreground. But despite what seems like a great victory for the time, they are nevertheless, once again, under the orders of a man, Charlie, and serve as objects of fantasy for the spectator during the fight scenes.
In short, there is still a long way to go!


Especially since in 1978 appears a series which will be totally the incarnation of a
America Reaganienne, liberal, paternalistic and reactionary, “Dallas”! And it will last until 1991! And this is how many series will have served as cultural imperialism, soft propaganda to serve us the American way of life as the most enviable, as the horizon to reach! And it hurts to say it but among these we find for example “K2000”, “MacGyver”, “The Dukes of Hazzard”, “The A-Team” etc.


At this time, we also see the arrival of Super Hero series, such as The Incredible Hulk and Wonder Woman. And they meet with great success, demonstrating the need to reassure a population traumatized by certain military defeats such as Vietnam. A population that needed to rediscover the image of a strong and protective America embodying the return of heroes to the country.


But in short! For the moment, the series are still all cast in the same mold and differ a little from those of today. And surprisingly it is a detective series, very little known to us, which will revolutionize serial art: “Hill Street Blues”. Indeed, this series will reinvent the usual narration by bringing much more realism and nuance, by de-idealizing the figure of the American policeman. But it is above all with it that we see many of the narrative springs used in all today’s series appear, especially with the creation of parallel plots associated with the main narrative arcs running over several episodes.
Kind of like X-files. But it is especially with them that we see the appearance of the pre-credits that we love so much when we launch our series of the moment.

The revolution

We are in 1990 and the series have existed for about 40 years! And as we know, 40 is the age of the midlife crisis, this crisis where we want to relive our youth a little and put subversion in our lives! And that’s exactly what happens with the appearance of series that will no longer aim to reassure us and brush us in the right direction, but that will be ambiguous, acerbic, precisely criticizing all this pop culture that has constructed as a spectator. This is how 2 masterpieces once again revolutionized the genre with The Simpsons by Matt Groening and the mystical-cult Twin Peaks by the great David Lynch.


2 series that will take 10 years to impose a genre that has become the norm today. And indeed it is clearly thanks to Lynch, who introduced cinematographic ambition through the series on television, that today many great directors want to have their series. Do you remember when I told you that serial art, like all art, says a lot about the evolution of our lifestyles, our sociology, etc.?
Well this is once again what will happen with the appearance of series like Friends or even Seinfeld which this time will focus more on the lives of young single people, since the classic family model has lost some of its superb.

In reality and as with everything, this is mainly due to the fact that these young single people have precisely become the new main target of the consumer society which has found a new niche here. As she also did with the teenagers of our generation by precisely creating the series for teens with for example “Beverly Hills”, “Buffy the vampire slayer”, “Teen Wolf”, “Supernatural”…

Second Golden Age


And I think we can all thank the HBO channel, which historically was rather associated with sports and cinema, for having started producing series, each one more cult than the other. And above all more radical, leaving authors and directors the freedom to create their works. So Netflix can also thank them I think! The cause of all this? Well, as often, money and transgression, because HBO being a subscription channel, it was able to overcome the fear of not pleasing advertisers to offer something completely different.
Moreover, as a cable channel, it is not subject to the Federal Communications Commission, which prohibited sex and vulgarity. Suffice to say that she will take advantage of this freedom without skimping with the Oz series where the prison universe had never been shown with such realism, without any limit.


Will obviously follow, The Sopranos, The Wire, Six Feet Under until Game of Thrones today.
In short, since it works for HBO, all the other channels finally get started, making advertisers happy with all these series that we know by heart: “Lost”, “Dexter”, “Dr House”, “Weeds “, “Nip Tuck”, “CSI”, Desperate Housewives…
In England we are entitled to Dr Who and The Office…

The Netflix era

2007 arrives and with it the economic crisis. A crisis that will encourage channels to make sequels and other remakes rather than continuing to innovate. But fortunately or not, it’s not up to me to decide, the streaming platforms are coming, re-bringing a fresh wind to all this and giving a boost of creativity. It must be said that with streaming and other illegal downloads, our consumption habits have drastically changed and it has become out of the question to wait each week for the broadcast of your series on a channel.
of TV! Exception made with Game of Thrones which still manages to stay the course with its many twists which will also make its signature and create a new genre, that of the Blockbuster series.

But in short, with the internet and the attention economy, everything goes faster and precisely our attention needs to be captured in the midst of the hundreds of proposals that we receive per day. This is how platforms such as Netflix, Disney+, or even Amazon Prime Video arrive, offering us entire seasons without having to wait patiently for 1 or 2 episodes each week. And therefore with less risk of being spoiled by an asshole colleague / classmate!

Yes ! Yes, I still have resentment!


And this is how many directors come to find in the series, the new comforter for consumers, the artistic freedom that they no longer have in the Cinema.
In short, the series really gains its letters of nobility and becomes the format of audiovisual consumption par excellence. In particular, she appropriates the codes of her time with, for example, a much more feminist and transidentitarian approach which began in particular with “Madmen” until the famous “Sense8”, “Orange is the New Black” or even “The Handmaid’s Tale”.

We also have a number of so-called “historical” series which are starting to make a name for themselves, such as “Vikings” for example, and which, through their commercial success, reinforce stereotypes or propagate fantasized versions of History. In Vikings, it is the figure of the barbarian who is put forward, in “Downton Abbey”, an idealized aristocratic society is born, while “Game of Thrones”, largely inspired by History,
conveys the image of a still dark and violent Middle Ages.
This should not be seen as a necessarily negative criticism on my part, like other media, historical series allow the general public to be interested in them, and that’s already not bad!

So much for my little overview of the history of TV series. I hope you found the reading interesting.
I leave you until next week with a new Ethereal Stories.
Until then, take care of yourself and your loved ones and see you soon!

Creamy white beans soup, smoked sausage and garlic toast!

Last night was a party at my Grandma’s with my sister. Thursday it would have been mom’s birthday so we had a little party between us, we spent the evening looking at old photos and telling old anecdotes. it did me so much good.

My mom often made me toast with crushed white beans on garlic bread. With the current cold, I wanted a little comforter recipe for this occasion.


For 4 people:

  • 400 gr of dried white beans or already cooked if you want to save time
  • 2 Montbéliard sausages (my favorite) or other smoked sausages
  • 1 onion
  • 2 tomatoes
  • 1 clove of garlic
  • smoked paprika
  • Coriander

Realization :

  1. Soak beans overnight. Cook it with a clove of garlic, thyme, and the 2 tomatoes cut into pieces.
  2. Cook the sausages in water for 15 minutes and then brown them in a pan.
  3. Mix the white beans and adjust the texture with the cooking water. Adjust the seasoning and add the Paprika
  4. Arrange in a deep plate, pour the cream and add half a sliced sausage. Add the chopped cilantro.

For the garlic toast:

  1. Cut nice slices of bread
  2. Drizzle it with olive oil
  3. Grill them in the pan
  4. Rub them with garlic

Take care of yourself and your loved ones and see you soon!

Jeg savner mor frygteligt, men takket være dig fortsætter jeg med at se verden i farver. Jeg elsker jer bedstemor og Bini!

A woman tried to throw her hot coffee in my face at dog park!

Nyx disappeared from the frame right when I took the picture! >.<

Ok, that was 1 hours ago. I took Nyx out and took him to the dog park. There, a woman, her companion and their dog were about to enter. Of course Nyx was very happy to meet a new friend.

She was like wagging her tail and waiting for that dog to be unleashed, when that woman tried to release her dog. Nyx must had interrupted them, apparently this woman got angry at Nyx for no reason.

She tried to hit my dog and maybe his dog was growling at Nyx. I don’t really know since I can’t hear so I came in, to call Nyx over. Well, unfortunately, that woman threw coffee at me, BUT lucky I stood a bit further from her and didn’t get « coffee splashed » on me.

She seemed so angry and yelling at me for no reason then left, her partner was like ho no and tried to calm her down. She just simply left and I had no clue what was going on. Honestly, I never thought that someone would throw coffee at me… 🤣🥲

Yep, it happened just like that and then people came over to see if I was okay. I was like I’m all good peachy and utterly clueless about what had just happened recently. So bizzard lol

Nix didn’t do anything to that dog and all she wanted was to smell that dog’s ass & play with. What a day !

It was definitely not her day today at all but dude don’t throw hot coffee to someone else!

I hope everything goes well for you. Take care of yourself and your loved ones and see you soon.