I leave my silence to tell you a little story, a story that never ends as it should. It happens there fifteen years, a versatile ugly as there are dozens in Quebec. In my
versatile ugly, as in all-purpose ugly, there are bad guys and good guys. There are also competent and incompetent. Antoine was the captain of the second team. In civilian, it was he who gave us during the so-called educational career. I doubt there is still, it was already on the verge of retirement at the time. Notice the intensity with which I do not deplore this state of affairs.
One day after class, I approached Anthony to ask him a question about showbiz. "Anthony, you know, then, specialists of all kinds of countries are invited to the news' on telly to answer questions when there's something going on in those countries, then, well that is how to do to become one? ".
A transcript of the scene does not suggest much more than a factual answer. "They have doctorates in political science." But the tone, oh! tone ... the tone in which he gave me his answer was an uppercut to knock my second question even before it arrives. The tone he used, in short, told me crush, back to reality, in short, they have PhDs and ti-guy you will not worry, not too much to dream and the National Hockey League either.
I remember a column in which Foglia spoke of these talented teens who have become adults because they have received any, to use his expression, "kick in the ass that would put in orbit. "That all this potential overgrown that I dedicate the conclusion of my story:
In exactly one week I get a PhD from Harvard University.
Eat a chariot of shit, Antoine.
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