She was born in a vat of consomme, during the bitter Parisian winter of 1875, in a little shack on the Rue de Tomjanovich. Her first job, when she was just six years old, was as a hoof-cleaner for the horse of the local dungsweep. Such were the humble beginnings of the frail, wide-eyed girl with flat feet whose life would eventually span thirteen decades, and whose rich experiences would one day be enough to fill up 8K worth of HTML. They called her Bobo, but her given name was Jeanne Wendy Calment. Before her amazing life would end, she would sleep with three four-star generals (five times each), save the lives of dozens of her countrymen, invent a laundry-folding device, and completely master the yo-yo. Yes, even rock the cradle.

     It's been widely reported that she had a passing acquaintance with the great painter Vincent Van Gogh when she was a teenager. In fact, she had more than a passing acquaintance with the great painter Vincent Van Gogh when she was a teenager. She hated his guts. Some say he had the hots for the young Bobo, but she spurned his advances cruelly, calling him names like "Goofball" and "One-eared Weasel." She was asked later in life if she regretted the way she had treated him once the world recognized his genius, but she scoffed. "He gave me dozens of his stupid paintings," she recalled, "but the man was a bedwetter, so I fed them to the hogs."

     In addition to her appreciation for fine art, Jeanne had a knack for being in the right place at the right time. In 1906, when a massive earthquake struck and completely destroyed vast sections of the great city of San Francisco, she was 15,000 miles away, sucking a hard-boiled egg. World War I saw her running a hugely successful mail-order munitions business, through which she made a killing in mustard gas. In the '30s, during the great depression, she managed to stay in bed for 9 1/2 years, and knit enough socks to warm the feet of every cow in France. For this, she was hailed as a national hero, and was given her own radio talk show, one of the first of its kind. On Sunday evenings at 8:00, half the country would be gathered around their crystal sets to hear Jeanne and her many friends gossiping and playing cards for money.

     Soon, however, World War II drew France's attention away from "Cribbage avec Calment," and, having lost in the ratings race of the early '40s, a bitter and disillusioned Bobo turned to covertly aiding the Nazis. She had little understanding of the politics of Europe during the war, but she liked the German uniforms, so she made herself available to the S.S. as a good-time girl and yo-yo instructor. Not an easy task for a woman in her 60s, but Jeanne Calment was no ordinary woman, as the world would one day see.

     After the war, as Europe struggled to rebuild, Bobo found the climate in her homeland to be one of hostility and hazy afternoon sun. The people of France, not known for their forgiving nature, blamed Jeanne for the weather, and shunned her mercilessly. Newsreel footage of Bobo cavorting with Goebbels was widely distributed, and the backlash was harsh. Yet Mme. Calment, demonstrating the resiliency that was her trademark, merely scraped her savings together, purchased a motorized unicycle, and toured the countryside, anonymous and free. She fell in with a band of wandering Gypsies, and became their spiritual advisor. She endeared herself to the ragtag bunch of artisans and thieves by teaching them to jitterbug and pretending to read their tarot cards. The years flew by.

     To be continued ....