³~. For the record, fuck Alabama and their Tide… and Harvard, —Aussi.
And, Katty Kay… Alabama got me so upset, do you remember why I told Mick Jagger about Le Corbusier? Exacltly, Katty, exactly, and this is why I Hate The Sixties and Derek and The Dominos. Any monkey can write about Murder and I hope that Ewe can guess my name.
But nevermind the preliminaries, Juan-Bautista Urbano, because Live From The Jesuit-run Saint Mary’s Military Academy in Tokio (also dubbed as The National Défense Academy of Japan) is Fire At-Will and remember, Max Dozolme, I buried Titus, ask Doctor Poisson, she knows where I buried that pussy-cat.
And now let’s dig a Grave (pronounced in Castellano, not en Hebrew or Israel main export 🪦), an Acute, and a flat ass tortilla.
El próximo toro le corresponde a Duke Ellington, never mind The Caravan, take the A-Train por el redondel.
But first, Tomorrow in French theaters, “The Real Thanksgiving”… the only good ‘injun is Palestinian.
The Vanity of The Tents.
And, Mika, Except for that Spanish fellow, fuck all Pablos on God’s Green Earth. For the Record, Torre, I used to bullfight in TorreON, so your little Harvard lapel pin does not even impress the soccer guy from Rosbifland.
And now, let’s find out… if Torre shows up on Friday.
Synopsis:
Séneca and El Cordobés are sitting on Barrera de Sombra, hilarity ensues when Bob Dylan improvisés an espontáneo and jumps to El Ruedo de la monumental plaza de toros de Lerdo. El Cordobés and Seneca were arguing about the actual existence of un tal Homère, which El Cordobés argues that if Homère in fact existed, he would be a blind beggar playing tricks at La Samaritaine under The Pont Neuf, and not someone that Cervantes or Shakespeare would look up to.
