20 Minutes later… at 5 o’Clock in Central Nato Times

It ain’t easy, Ziggy.

By C.O.B.

By C.O.B.

Tell you what Marianne, we [the staff] are going to make our way to Omaha, we are walking it. Once there, we’ll watch the parades of Vespas, the tournament of the patriotic and the staring* of the curious ; perhaps, Marianne, if we are L.U.C.K.Y. we’ll catch a glimpse of  the MorJo Crew playing Organized Grab–Ass on the live-feeds of them MSnbc’s.

Upon our return, if we [the staff] make it in one leg… we’ll return to the 1511 office to find out if your people at the préfecture are going to BEE letting our staff finish what we set out to DO without the express written consent and/or “benediction” of Los Amigos de La Casa de México en La Ciudad Universitaria de París ; or if your people would like for us to instead, stop our non-news analysis and sell weed, or something more Appropriate and in-line with the stereotypical  view that a Mexican bastard is supposed to adhere to when buying Tacos Chicanos at the Canal de Saint–Martin (75019)… look it up, A Nous Paris. Look it up.

The following must be read in a Brian Williams voice:

— “Eye love this G.A.M.E.” said the guard situated next to the security conveyor belt post at the Préfecture de La Île-de–los vikingos en Paname.

Indeed, kind Sir. Indeed. We Love It!

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