Monday’s zombies, so hooked on their weekends, are downright bummed to see us again, forced to endure our very existence. They’re everywhere, swarming around us, ready to spit their despair in our faces, merely for being their unchosen comrades. Trapped in a devilish cycle, they battle for five endless days just to relish two pitiful days of some prescribed, scheduled bliss. — As every morning, I swagger into the office to the raucous applause of the administrative drones in the open space.

How many times in our fleeting time on this earth do we face a real fork in the road? A choice that will drastically and permanently reroute our existence? Four times, maybe five? — You’re probably scratching your head, wondering how I ended up here. Nestled in my Chesterfield throne smack dab in the middle of the Lovell Telescope dome. How did a schmuck like me score such a prime spot? All to nurse a bitchy Cosmo while lost in the abyss of deep…

Today marks Father’s Day, and I suppose it’s time to pen a few words about him, to bring to life this man who is my father by biology, but who never opted to play that part. Whether that’s unfortunate or fortunate, I can’t say. The season for resentment has passed. — My father is ill. He’s grappling with herpes encephalitis. If you’re not familiar with the term, trust me, it’s not pretty. According to the World Health Organization, 67% of humans are affected by type 1 herpes and 11% by type 2. Do the math and pick your poison. When your…

Aujourd’hui c’est la fête des Pères alors j’imagine que c’est le moment de parler de lui, d’écrire quelques mots. Évoquer cet homme qui est biologiquement mon père, mais qui n’a pour autant jamais décidé de jouer ce rôle. Tant pis ou tant mieux, je ne sais pas. Le temps n’est plus à la rancune. — Mon père est malade.Il est atteint d’une encéphalite herpétique. Je ne sais pas si vous savez exactement ce qui se cache derrière ce terme, mais, croyez-moi, c’est vilain.

In the vast digital landscape of Medium, one might wonder, “Where have all the French writers gone?” It seems that Medium, in its infinite wisdom, has decided to play the role of a less-than-gracious host to our Francophone content creators. To put it lightly, they’re not exactly rolling out the red carpet. So, how do we uncover these brave souls, these indomitable adventurers who’ve chosen to wage a war of words in this seemingly hostile terrain?

In the Shady Business Division of the Action Department, my role often sees me stepping into the shoes of a spin doctor. I’m the middleman, leaning where necessary, whispering the right information into the right ears, ensuring the most favorable version of the truth finds its way to the top. …

Let’s press pause for a moment, on this fine day, to dive headfirst into a universal plight: management. In this melodrama, we’ll unmask the specter lurking in the shadowy corridors of middle management, the self-styled military strategist, the obnoxious aficionado of Sun Tzu. Sun Tzu devotees are invariably masters of…

Je ne sais pas où vous serez dans quelques heures pour changer d’année. Seuls ? En famille ? Entre amis ? Sages ou ivres ? Dites-le-moi. Moi, je serai à Budapest. Probablement dans un pub, entre deux vins, quand sonneront les douze coups de minuit. Bien entouré et heureux, oubliant…

2 hours of suffering to the rhythm of Caifanes, the beating heart of Mexico. CDMX, November 5, 2022. It is 8:40 pm. Except for a few security guards and the merchandising stands along the entrance gates — no customer in sight — , there is not a soul at the…