AxeMan, on assignment in Paris, monitoring the presidential elections for Crooked Line Journal, ventured into several Librairies de la Bande Dessinee (Comic book stores, in plain English). Just a wink or a nod was all he had hoped for, but he received nothing.
Unnoticed, he sunk into a minor depression. Could it be because he is American?
Double indemnity? In the home of the Clear Line he understands that he will never be recognized. Not in France, and probably not in the U.S. Either.
So, while awaiting the election results, in search of the familiar, he looks for a jazz club he knew from a previous journey.
7 Lezards was one of the great venues; a tiny, smoky basement in the Marais. He finds the address but no sign of the club. Damaged posters say the buiding has been designated for social housing.
How bizarre, he thinks. Still, the working poor should be able to live in the city where they clean the streets and provide many of the basic amenities for Parisians. For the rest of yet another rainy day he will await the election results.