Brief summary of approximate history-geography (2): Lourdistan

AndIn these times of permanent rewriting of history, in the era of fake news, post-truth and exuberance erected as a new Bollorian doxa, it is appropriate to put the church 2.0 at least a little at the center of the fantasy digital village in the dark. With his self-taught graduate knowledge, Boris-Hubert Loyer offers you a small historical-geographical summary for the not bad ones who will be able to separate the real grain from the false book. Second part: Lordistan.

Like Greenland and the long line of fictional countries from books, films and series of all eras, the fascination with dys- or utopian places does not die out like an older generation smartphone on the outskirts of a new model’s release date. We could quote in the manner of a list à la Danzig (the writer of the corridors never stingy with encyclopedic selfishness) and in a far from exhaustive way (because there isn’t even the night): Borduria and Hergé’s Syldavia; Palombia by Franquin; the Coronador of Tillieux; Margaret Atwood’s Gilead; the Kundù inside The west wing ; Xanadu by Samuel Taylor Coleridge… I prefer to go to fictitious countries whose names end with –stan favorable to a series of more or less good quality inventions such as Kafiristan by Rudyard Kipling, Tcherkistan by Dany Boon or Absurdistan by Gary Shteyngart, who pales in comparison to the legendary anyway Filekistan by Pierre Dac and Francis Blanche.

The recent craze on the planet Twitter for the Listenbourg beautifully illustrates this creative phenomenon that has seen the emergence from nothing of a new country on the European continent with the declared aim of making fun of the geographical knowledge of the Americans. However, the latter do not need to remember that they are poor cartographers, not hesitating to list forbidden areas all over the planet (preferably in Paris or Marseilles) miles from any journalistic or historical reality. Happy and schoolboy, Listembourg’s viral adventure (both spellings are now allowed) has brought some freshness to the boring and anxiety-producing world of twittos, often more ready to harass their fellows and pass on the simplistic and stupid jokes of the writers editorials with glasses Bolloré colorful in front of a guest who talks about climate change, love of neighbor or refugees dying at sea.

@gaspardooo on Twitter

Spreading across the web like an airborne virus over a long haul from Wuhan, the Listenbourg joke grew visibly from tweets, fed by internet users in great shape and out of the encyclopedia. After its geographical location, which can be placed precisely in the west of Portugal even if we did German LV2, Listenbourg was quickly given a constitution, a language (different indeed), a capital, an anthem, a flag. .. thanks to the multiple and eccentric contributions of potential local citizens, increased by the many commercial recoveries of brands and certain complicit media when it is not even April 1st, the odyssey of Listenbourg has grown and flourished also in the international news. Even in the United States, which quickly dropped the case when it realized that Listenbourg was prohibited from carrying a firearm, the likelihood of covering up a mass shooting in a kindergarten with untenable images and testimony was close to the degree of empathy of the former President Trump visiting victims of Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico.

But what many don’t know is that not far from Listenbourg there is a country that is unjustly misunderstood (and with good reason) when it deserves the honors of the press and the interest of the general public just as much. This reserved historical-geographical space is none other than the Heavystan.

A self-defined “nation” entity in the sense of “a group whose members are united by a real or presumed common origin and originally organized on a territory”, Lourdistan possesses a number of attributes that would make it a real country for lack of existing only in the minds of its most relentless fanatics. Drawing its history from often apocryphal sources and occasionally revisiting a national novel made up of battles fought against an enemy who never ceases to want to replace its native citizens, Heavyistan is the country of those who sing “We are with us! during the gatherings where the Lourdauds (family appellation for Lourdistanais) band together to support their controversial ex-candidate and self-appointed guru, savior of frankness when he doesn’t even have his own Bach. In Lourdistan we think we can say everything and more because we write under a pseudonym and on the Internet with the vengeful and epistolary courage of the anonymous plumitif who denounces his neighbor’s lifestyle to the tax authorities. In Lourdistan, we are convinced that freedom of expression is sacred and that it is not up to the courts to decide whether what we say is lawful or not (yes). In Lourdistan, we are convinced that reaching a 2.7% share (that is to say slightly less than a teleshopping programme) allows us to pose as opinion makers, especially by resorting to imported opinion makers. In Lourdistan, we are sure that saying “shut your mouth! for a deputy of the Republic it is as natural and harmless as trapping men through an ad on a dating site outant live on television without their knowledge. In Lourdistan, finally, we are sure of our rights because we are making money for an already billionaire employer by insulting his guests and viewers’ intelligence.

Thinking about it, this heavy country is perhaps not so imaginary and unfortunately much less imaginative than Listenbourg and its comic potential… And to think that the only point in common between Kipling’s humanism and media populism is undoubtedly “The Man Who Would Be King”.

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