God Damn You, Lorne Michaels…

lMusic and Ninja Tuna Pick’s me Up!!!

Aloha… del verbo Alojar, not the other way around.

In This Episode:
The Blades are Out

Not only did Fucking Matt Hunting starred as
Good Will, but Sunny–Gringo,
you fuckers turned Sarah’s vulva
into a Vigina from
wait for it, wait…
in the mean time, while Trump,
—that motherfucker—
goes to Jail, we [the staff]
gonna add Color to the streets
of the Emperor of Paris.

It’s High Noon in CET
in the Search for ElDorado,
Sarah Silverman is turned into a
Perla Morena in the quadrant freq of:
The Ameri–Indien of Nueva Yo’l.

But speaking of New York,
its Blades
(con dos filos, not dos Güiros) out,
its Gangs,
its Emperors and their motherficking lingo.
Eddie “G” tells an Ol’ Rosbiff
(from the Ile of The Big Kat)
just how close Rats are to y’all.
…’lemme find that page demarcation.

Stephen, what page is the RAT Info at?

— Stephen responds:

It’s 12.20 in the afternoon!!!

To which Stephen replies:

The page number not the Time.

And, Stephen goes:

That would be page 32, under the letter delimeters starting with, lemme see, (Uhmmmm) DeDo; close, but not quite, EcHo, Fenst… Gang… Hotel… injunc… Ju–ju, ah! Here it is: Judas, page 32.

Cue Call : Brel get yo’ass on Stage.

Dear, Matt Hunting,

If you know what Jacques–es—es voice sounds like, just imagine his fucking grill yapping the following observation, but first, a word from our Sponsors:

It’s 2074 and when the mob wants to get rid of someone, the Bosses send their John Perkins-es’eses across time…

Joe-jeune is sent to Elysium to kick Matt Damon’s-es-es ass.

Mean, while, Trump figured out how to beat the American Justice League in the year of the WASP’s-es-eses Lord of 2019, that shifty motherfucker [Trump] came about some information regarding Ponce de León’s-es-es Fountain of Youth, which was smacked right in the middle of his motherfucking golf course in La Florida… where else, eh? Where else would the salvation for Donald “motherfucking” Trump be at? In Disneyland-Paris?

Try Disneyland-CHINA!!!

Which is why the Bosses sent Joe-âgé to the Yellow River to give that motherfucker, Donald Trump, a hair cut. Joe-âgé had grow fond of the “hair products holding Back Pack”, that as a Young man he had taken from Matt Damon, but unlike the little fucking Christmas ornament batteries that Will Hunting relied on to make his clippers work, way back en “el año del caldo” del Señor de Los Cielos de 1997, batteries which by-the-Güey, always died when you needed them fuckers the most, Joe-âgé relied on a more classical form of grooming as he went ahead and kept the Old Gringo’s shaving blade that was bestowed upon him by the old Indiana Cartographie Officer from the great State of Indiana, a State which the current vice-president (2018) had transformed into a Corporate bitch for the Medical Industry corporations that left the Hoosier State insolvente, o como diría a French Speaking Jodie Foster-âgé: INSOLVABLE.

… anygüey, to make a long tale short, when the motherfucking batteries from the Weinstein Company failed the Matt Damon Clippers, Joe-âgé went ahead and gave Donald Trump the only HairCut that motherfucking Bruce Willis had in his “stylist” choices: the Indian Scalping.

And just to fuck with Will Hunting, Bruce Willis (in the Role of Jacques Brel) said to the Fat Lady at the End Crédits line:

How Do EWE, Like them Fiona Apples.


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