DEAR FRENCH T.V.,

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

WARMLY,
JACK SHAMAMA

MY FAVORITE THING IS ONLINE LURNING. WHEN PEOPLE ASK WHAT I DID TODAY I CAN SAY, "I FINISHED MY CLASS ON [REDACTED FOR PRIVACY REASONS]." THEY DON'T NEED TO KNOW I DIDN'T GET OUT OF BED.

AT THIS POINT IN TIME, I AM ENJOYING SOME PISTACHIOS WHICH I JUST NOTICED HAPPEN TO BE FROM IRAN. THEY ARE PERFECTLY SALTED AND GRILLED, EARTHIER AND RICHER THAN THE PISTACHIOS I USUALLY ENJOY FROM MONOPRIX, AND AT 3€50 FOR A 500 GRAMS, THEY'RE LESS THAN ONE-THIRD THE PRICE. SOMEHOW THIS FEELS SUBVERSIVE.

I MISS MY CREDENZA, MY CHAIRS. MY IRRELEVANT PLASTIC KNICKKNACKS AND EPHEMERA.

THE HARDEST THING ABOUT LIVING IN FRANCE FOR ME IS THE FACT THAT YOU HAVE TO PRESS THE "+ CHANNEL" BUTTON TO TURN ON THE TV.

IF GIVEN THE CHOICE BETWEEN A BLOWJOB OR HAVING MY BACK TICKLED FOR TEN MINUTES, I'D CHOSE THE BACK-TICKLE, AS IT'S IMPOSSIBLE TO TICKLE YOURSELF, BUT YOU CAN JERK OFF.