How ya’ doin’ — Take oNe… a little background

If you are not a regular non-reader of this blog you might KNOT remember DEXTER, our Jamaican friend from the mind of EDDIE MURPHY’s 1987 HoBO Special, RAW, look it up, {or} wait for the tags at the bottom of this rag on a later time zone, right now we are running on fumes and the wind is blowing the wrong güey.

Full-disclosure (it will make sense later in the narration) i break at least 50 misdeMEAnors³ before Paris s’éveille, but that is because I have a very weak bladder and can’t hold my urine for more than a block.

TimeStamp: Michael Cimino en fip… Nostalgia de la buena

³.~ 100 if i have weed in my pocket.

¿Un Mirage, que?

https: //www .fip .fr /emissions /certains-l-aiment-fip /michael-cimino-en-musique

Will this do, Alix?

For Context, i stopped making conversations with people about 3 or 4 years ago, there is a reason for it and it goes against my personality traits from a previous life, not the one that i am living now; anyhow, earlier this morning two fellows from the Street Academy were having a conversation next to where i was taking a dump. The conversation involved the following tropes/elements/characters:

— A priest
— A cop
— Un árbol que da moras (la moral… look it up or wait for Spring teens)

Long story short, a priest can’t be a cop and a cop can’t be a priest was the debate that Martin and JD were having at the new Saint-Merri public showers… now to fast-forward and answer Martin’s rant, which turned into a word salad that i cut-off when he added that a priest should not aspire to be a millionaire, so with that in mind:

— The priest’s name is Onésimo Cepeda alias:
https ://es .wikipedia .org /wiki /On%C3%A9simo_Cepeda_Silva

— The cop’s name is “classified” for now.
— … so never mind La Moral for now and enjoy the Blackberries.

Pardon my interruption, i said, but last night (por ejemplo) i witnessed a young girl getting raped by at least 10 guys next to a snake like this one, perhaps you’ve seen it (the snake, not the young girl getting banged) my question to you is, should i be a cop, or should i be a priest… or should i just mind my own business and smear the blackberry jam on the toast at La Bagagerie?

[local context/tangent: according to Roger, the artist at Saint-Eustache, the priest’s name there is JAMES; it could be SANTIAGO for all i care, and it will make sense in a later chapter].



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