20 mars 2013
I had a dream. A dream in English - maybe my unconscious way to celebrate the 10th anniversary of the American attack on Irak...
I was a General at the head of a Marines Marketing Combat Division working for wine producers and I had contrived a masterplan to conquer the World of Great Plonk.
Full Metal Jacket - flint, asparagus and buxus welcome
Here is my operational planning for all units
1° Create a Combat Appellation (or reinforce it).
Entrench your troops with walls and ditches - do not let any other wine enter this ground.
2° Sanctuarize it
Smoke screen the press and the consumer with history notes, heritage, stories about your soils and local grapes - send commandos with the word terroir written on their helmets to all possible markets. Invite war correspondents. Spread the good word.
3° Now choose an international grape
A grape like sauvignon, which happens to grow in your region. Who cares if it has any chance of success or not on external markets, you need to send a message to your troops: "My staff and I are acting for you". Another advantage: choosing just one grape will make the communication much simpler, and thus, the job of your marketing engineers and sappers. Uproot all the other grapes or sell them to elite wine shops under another name.
4° Launch your intercontinental rockets
With containers attached (make sure the bottles are conveniently camouflaged, that the word sauvignon appears in big letters on the bottles).
5° Wait and see
Do not despair if you hear that the NZ growers uproot their sauvignon because they can't sell it - they are only Kiwis, they should not have planted it in the first place, the poor bastards!
6° Do no accept any containers back.
Better sink them in the Mariana Trench, very far, very deep; and don't talk about failure of your plans for at least another 12 months. Cash the subsidies, meanwhile.
7° Look for another job, another army
28 février 2013
C'est le titre de la dépêche AFP:
Viande de cheval: une fraude européenne tentaculaire aux origines encore floues
J'ai déjà vu des politiques, et même des tantes, au cul du cheval; mais un cheval à tentacules, jamais.
Il y a pas mal de people au salon de l'agriculture. Mais des poulpes...
Je ne sais pas vous, mais moi, cette affaire m'inquiète.
Un bon tuyau: Poulpo 2, dans la 4ème, à Longchamp (photo Albert Kok)