I have full mates of journalists at Libération, was during the war I have more hidden. I respect their work especially when they talk to me and I thank them for choosing to do an article on me "Man of the Day: Loic Le Meur moves. Will he have enough tape to finish his cartoons? "but then when you see some comments, I prefer that they remain in Libération on my blog. My blog, you love him or you leave. This type of shot had come to attend this season, thankfully temporarily, I appreciate criticism (incidentally during the war I have several hidden) and responds willingly to blow ashole but there is really very constructive. I do not understand this bashing. It is true that I succeeded: I tu Philip Starck, I ski in Davos, I run New York, my blog is read by 3 billion of scantily clad nymphs ... Do not forget that I was the first to install two wind turbines inside my head to return the wind flowing through my ears ... Objectively, we can say that my life is a success and it logically I am considered an idol in all of EMI France. It's typically French that do not recognize my talent. I need that poor people like me too, but nobody includes what I hope and wait. Who could tell me who I am? And I'm afraid all my life of being misunderstood because today I feel unloved. I'm unloved. People know me as I want to show me. But did they find out where I get my joy? And why this desperation hidden deep inside me.
not touch my ball!
