Make Your Own Jokes

In case you don't know why Armenia did not participate in the Eurovision contest this year, let me tell you.  For security reasons.  


That said, at the prompting of a friend, I watched (almost: I was making Tabbouleh in the kitchen) country after European country flaunt their "I want to sound like an American" songs in front of millions of spectators around the world except for Russia who, this year, had opted for a truly organic song, interpreted by six real grandmothers in their folkloric costumes.  They came in second.

Yes, I wanted the Russians to win too but they didn't.  Sweden won.  Their singer was Moroccan, that's probably why.

To make matters more absurd and to extend the amount of publicity Azerbaijan enjoyed, we learned that their capital's name is Baku. People from up to 44 countries not only voted by calling or SMSing, but later, by satellite feed, we went to each one of these countries and counted some kind of voting for the three countries that got most of that country's votes.  Eight votes, ten votes and twelve votes each that the country gave.  

One of the rules was that you cannot vote for your own country.

Thus, Azerbaijan gave the twelve votes to Turkey and vice versa, Greece gave the twelve votes to Cyprus and vice versa, etc.  You get the picture.

Every time we went to the representative spokesperson of a country, for example France, they all started their greetings thus:

"GOOD EVENING BAKUUUU!  GREETINGS FROM BELGRADE!  IT WAS AN AMAZING SHOW", and variations of same.

Add the accent of each European country, among them Slovenia, FRY (Former Republic of Yugoslavia), Albania, France, Israel, etc. and you get another picture.

"GOOD EVENING BAKUUUUU."  That's where the contest was taking place.  In the capital of the oil rich country of Azerbaijan.  So you can imagine the reverence, the "let us make this look like love" attitude of each country.  


I came to the conclusion that this kind of love stems from politics which in turn stems from economics, i.e. money. 


I'll take any kind of love over hate.  It was pleasant to see the love-fest.


The next day I extended the love-fest to the Sunday BBQ I was invited to, and we all repeated the phrase "GOOD EVENING BAKUUUU" with various accents and intonations as if someone had given us the opportunity to flaunt our talents. 


Le lendemain matin, as I was heading to the parking lot, I crossed the new neighbor moving into the apartment next to mine.  She was carrying the "welcome" mat and rolling a suitcase behind her.  It was easy to guess.  


The parking space reserved for my neighbor is next to mine. I noticed that she had taken more than her share to park her compact car. I wondered what would happen if the person that space was reserved for returned.   There was also a U-haul truck parked further from which three guys were unloading what looked like furniture.


I went to my errands and returned.  After parking my car I couldn't help but notice the license plate of my new neighbor.


You have to sit down now.  Yes, you, now.  Sit down.


The license plate read "BAKU75."