HAPPY american Pi Day:
Pay de Qüesö
Porte 8 (Jaune)
Place Louis Lépine
Mº Cité de citas
HAPPY american Pi Day:
Pay de Qüesö
Porte 8 (Jaune)
Place Louis Lépine
Mº Cité de citas
Dear, Marianne, please note that this here entry is a follow-up to that short test-burst, which as you might remember followed the “cotejado” from el pasado 9 de enero del año de Sean Penn (2019) en la Casa de la América Gràphika de VeneVientosLatinoamericanos en París.
[debat de memo in progress goes here]
Anygüey, coming up on whatever is left of the brown magnetic Line on that tape, wadda’ya say you bring your bare-boob over to my basement tonight, and if you want,
we fuck … and if you want, Öüï dance! But if you want to, we could do it instead; it’s your call, really.
Coming up in the programming:
My Nigga dans le 6ème arrondissement:
Please stand-by for TimeShift, and dear mister Brontis, the process es–es–Esos that your S.U.P.E.R.I.O.R.S wanted to hear from my mandatory convocations and interviews of 2013/2014 were way too fantastical to reveal, and not because i [armando segovia / armando serrano prieto] would know what events would be developing as a consequence of the Mexican Election of 2012, nope, it’s not because of that.
As a PRINT MEDIA major [c’est a dire Marianne] a reporter by QUALIFICATION with the added bonus of having the spirit of a MASS MEDIA student, and a passion for General History i only knew that one thing was going to be fo’Sure, and fo’Certain following the MEXICAN ELECTION OF 2012, corruption was going to become transparent given the rise of the Social Media “App’s” and “Widgets”.
Go ahead, Marianne, go ahead and check that dossier of M.I.N.E., in those archives that mister Brontis à la préfecture insisted to me [armando segovia] on one occassion, “that France did not keep”. Now that little piece of revelation D.A.R.E.!!! Is fantastical, ain’t it?
In MÉXICO we call it: dar atole con el puto dedo, and in this here Docket in the form of a most inconsequential ITENERANT BLOG, el puto dedo is Pablo Gleason and the hit squad is made up of the C.A.S.T. of Les Amis du Mexique à France… Sponsored no less, by LA PUTA MANO DE BERNARDO GÓMEZ y, el ciudadano G.E.S.T.P.O. de La Polanco en R.O.M.A.: GENARO GARCÍA LUNA.
3.14.2019, it’s 10 o’Clock in Central Europe Times; and in Delaware, son las Cinco de la mañana.
You shouldn’t have,
but öüï thank you for it.
And Marianne, here’s why it matters:
no horses were hurt during the making of this process,
—but not yet, anyway, because a time–delay Bri–Wi “Check the timeline moment is UP!”.
Now, about that nº Dos matter: öüï need to go all the way back to “El Cotejado” del pasado 9 de enero del año en cursio.
… and this is what we, —the staff— MARIANNE, are talking about: the news CYCLES and the T.I.M.E. Z.O.N.E.S. are getting way too crossed in the making of this MOST INCONSEQUENTIAL response to your September 26th of 2014 decision to Y.A.N.K. my French-Issued Talents and Skills Resident’s permit (card and/or V.I.S.A.).
Por ejemplo, Marianita, check this “crossed reference” that we [the staff] are F.O.R.C.E.D. to c.u.t. & p.a.s.t.e. because it deals with, or it’s a direct consequence of the original identified problematics, which in 2010 framed the foundation or the b.a.s.e. for the questions that we [the staff] wanted to F.O.L.L.O.W. U.P.
in our original line of sight… in our initial line of questioning for our then, intended six–year R.E.P.O.R.T.A.G.E., HOWEVER, Marianne, and as we [the staff] had mentioned just a few days ago, (when CNEWS published a picture of a jet-airliner’s approach for landing at C.D.G.) our field was mired with landmines (minas, para los ‘wehones chilenos), M.A.D.R.I.N.A.S. (de Acapulco), A.R.T.I.S.T.A.S. (institucionalizados) de las E.M.B.A.J.A.D.A.S. “lambisconas” como la de México, la de Colombia y la de Venezuela; in addition of course, to the dirty french-people working under the orders of then Interior Minister, Manuel Valls, who was trying to clear the M.E.X.I.C.A.N. protests at Trocadéro Plaza, which had lingered in France following the 2012 general election cycles, which at the time, prestented a perfect storm of presidential candidates in La FRANCE, Los E.E.U.U. y su patío trasero mejor conocido por “babosos” como la tierra del N.O.P.A.L.
Bri-Wi Thumb-Up screen–grab follows.
In the meanwhile, the following is a short T.E.S.T. burst:
Dear Siren, no sueñes con gatos porque araña [ n ] cuando los despiertas. [Can Ü hear mí Now!?]
… y no, Siren.
No es que la balada siga, sino que el corrido es una balade.
Now, Siren… you’ve heard about the “Paris” Hilton.
—It’s not önë of those.
— Who da’Fuck is We?
and The Black Crows go:
“What’s the Use of Anything
Leave me Alone,
… Centerfold Kath goes here.
Twelve noonan at the forum.
dot, dot, dot:
and the grand ol’Painter told Paul, a former 4-stringer who made the Big Time, but then crashed his Über-Triumph when he didn’t noticed that the light had changed, and WHO, once he was recycled through the BeetleJuice—BeetleJuice—BeetleJUICE carnival ride, found a job at Chipotle in the mid’ 90’s, except of course, in the mid nine-ties, Chipotle was called Tijuas, or Xicali, or AGUA PRIETA, or Juaritos, or Ojinaga, or PIEDRAS NEGRAS y así, hasta llegar a la linea de BROWNsVille luego de visitar a RIGO EN REYNOSA POR SER LA WEEKEND EDITION DEL AMOR, and sweet braceless Kath, RIGO ES AMOR. Aquí, en Babilonia ii, y por supuesto, Mr. Michaels:
¡En R O M A cabrón!
PS.: Nice Tito Bridge you got going there “Don”. Chido tu ritmo, that’s the way you do it when they don’t remember your name.
Live on Screen-grabs:
Inside of Jon’s Watch, however, las putas locas are still pointing to the hours before all’Dis motherfucking Circus with Donald J. Trump and, his personal “Jésus”, Vladimir Putin, became an “app” on John Heilemann’s (and others*****) “KetchuP” detail.
others*****… Mark Halperin, who’s now living inside of André The Giant’s miniature genie’s Water Tower (which doubles as DRUM BOY’s black coffee percolator KP Duty, at The Ed Sullivan Theater—of course) where the Colbert Report meets The Daily Show.
Willie Geist has all of the Swim and Birthday Suits details, from the AXIOS formas, que también, Cousin Joe, son FOND@S para tu FORMAT — …can you please re-interpret that for the people at Sciences Po, mr. Compagnon… with S.V.P. on top, dijo The Young Lieutenant, Paul Harvey.
Anuncio: Border Wall Entertainement Solutions
Prospective Client: The White House
Pitch: black, of course.
MEDIA: Center (fold) Page, the intern at
Is your irrational fear of running out of room for that “border wall” keeping you up all night?
Öüï have the perfect compromise. Check it out:
The kids will love it!
The following is a PSA on tortilla prices at the Cheerios®️ Grocery for tiny manitas de
Tyranosaurus Rex-es-es, Mr. BRONTIS á La Préfecture.
(Ewe had to have been there
to get this Renegado M.C. reference, Junior).
This plug on Mika and Joe is sponsored by Nescafé. Nescafé, the stuff General Gaddafi used on the Stones and their fanzine base…
And no, Sirens. No Öüï CAN’T bee Kool Moe Dee, but Öüï know that the Freaks break things at Night. TimeStamp: Trombone and Paper Clips at Fip Central Time 19:20.
Dear, Mika Brzezinski de Scarbourough,
Here’s your double-shot.
Just exactly what sort of “empowering” answer were you expecting from the Ronald Reagan candidate this morning on Your Husband’s Show?
A stupid Mike Barnicle, gutsy, however LowBall answer to the price on Cereal? Which if you think about it, and considering that his significant other Runs a motherfucking bank “OF AMERICA, » no less, one has to wonder, why would Mike Barnicle bee going around morning shows with the latest quote on Tortilla News; Right, International New York Times!?
Who does the shopping in your house, Mike? Siri, Alexa, La Sirvienta de R O M A.???
TO WHICH WE armando segovia / armando serrano–prieto say to Brontis á La Prefecture:
Can, you, MARIANNE, understand the importance of John Goodman and his musical monologue chairs, now?… o te lo desartículo para los Amigos de México en France (ProMéxico).
It’s important because by the time the Spotlight is pointing at Things We Said Before, all of our references, all of our NOTES; all of this and more, Marianita, are on the three burners cooking the big Fucking dish that i always told you that it needed to be seasoned in Your BackYard: Mexico Sq∴
And still to come [Pariente] on The Circus:
Boom! He’s not even on the runGüey, yet. Let’s see this Landing on the Bronx, and then; and only then, said an an educated semi-colón on Mika’s early morning tumbona premier, with The Guy who split tails on the Mermaids, —we’ll check the motherfucking Circus App.
And Cousin Joe vented his Venti Venti:
—”Are Ewe not Entertained!!!”
And, Bufford T. Justice went to Alice:
—Tooooooooo Da’Moon, Alice!
To the Moon!
And Alice replied:
—To The Who, Keith?
And the Drunk on Da’ Wall at Rockridge goes:
—No, dang-on it Alice, just stare at Yoko’s ass. Ewe Loon.
The Drunk on Da’Wall at Rockridge, starring Georges Méliès, and narrated by Brian Williams on a Special “Rapid Fire” engagement for the Mornin’ Joe pusher at way too early on MSNBC.
Day 29 of 2019.
I remember that a very Cold Front was already in progress. Fast forward to today’s news and France just invented the Arab Spring.
Hey, CHAYOTE MAYOR* ENCONTRE LAS MANGAS DEL CHALECO!!! Heck, Carlos Puig, even Nancy Pelosi wore a bold yellow and blue blason to signal Donald Trump’s “Impeachement Open Season”.
Sure, the “Facebook” and “Social Media” revolutions morphed into several social movements that by the time 2013 rolled around, the “Spring” reverberations of what used to be Cartagena, spawned into a series of protest that almost took down the “One Percenters” in Wall Street.
As of Sunday, the color yellow was still the current reference with which to tag the current History of discontent or, insatisfaction, as France Culture would put it French, just like “Los Indignadoux de Mai of ’68” did in the Olympics of Tlatelolco in chilangolandia, en un OCTUBRE que por supuesto, —tenía que ser.
Left or Right, if things must break and heads must roll, you can count on the Tour de France and the Michelin Guide to add that “seal of approval”, the motif that relays: When in Rome, do as the French. Except of course in Venezuela. En Venezuela no pasa NADA.
MeanWhile in Egypt:
In Egypt hoy no hubo Jazz
In Egypt nobody walks like an Egyptian
In Egypt everybody walks
just like people do
It’s Four o’Clock in Central NATO Times.
And the Soviets are celebrating the Olympics at Le Theater de La Villa casi esquina con El Pompidou de Beaubourg.
Twelve hours later, in New York we reach the 11th Hour, hey Brian Williams: What’s up, —motherfucker! Check it out, at Chatelet Square the Soviets are conducting a “thought” experiment in Quantum Physics or Gypsy Trapeze–es–es–eses, and the Siren is wearing “Blue Velvet… softer than Satin, or some fabric like that.
And we now Switch it over to Armando Serrano-Prieto; he just turned 10 years old. And Marianne, you can take that Log to the (food) Bank.
So, Cousin Joe, before we switch it over to the C–Span’s, I, Armando Segovia, also known by The Préfecture de Police à Cité (75004) by the Mexican Nomenclature of ARMANDO SERRANO-PRIETO, would like to put a little *ASTErisk on your comment about last night’s “Big Meal” before doing the Shut–Eye, which was followed by that dumb country lawyer “told You so” momentary stare of yours. Cousin Joe, PLEASE BE ADVISED, that the very “special” delivery that was sacrificed on the way to our little den at the Forum’s Underground took at least 24 hours to sucummb to whatever was injected into his or hers (not sure what the gender of the little baby rat was… I, Armando Segovia, only took care of the funeral arrangements, “that is to say, EWE know,” that I only placed the little dead motherfuking mouse inside of a decent casket (a Pringles™️ tube) before that specimen went into the McDo Bye–bye bin.
Out of respect to the little animal, no picture-registering was allowed at the scene del Siniestro… but Boy–oh_BO¥, did you know that it was the Very French, who went ahead and installed surveillance at every entrance to The Kids in The Hall, y’all.
NO LOS CREÍA TAN COBARDES
Cobardes no los creía, culeros.
P.S. about the Danglin’ Participle in this REALITY journalism ACT:
Picture this, the syringe was still stuck to one of it’s little pink paws; a paw that was probably bigger than both of Donald Trump’s tiny hands.
Now, about that “Pelusa®️™️©️” ensayo:
Dear, “GlasiRat’s” y “La Machy”… if those are your REAL usernames, Eye disagree with both of you, o como dicen los muy francece–ce–ces—ese en Vera(puta)Cruz: los dos están pendejos y malos del Yo-Yo.
And here’s exhibit ONE:
I. What a PELUSA, is not.
By Armando Segovia de los Serrano y Prieto (SDF—Global) — Mexican Jazzglish, con trocitos de Francés, salpicadas de Portugués, y por supuesto, Sirens, Castellano.
HOY NO HUBO JAZZ
Los dueños de la Hacienda Miranda
bien pudieron seguir considerando
a Tomás Arroyo otra simple pelusa insurrecta desde sus cómodas asociaciones de Ley en Francia,
pero El General Arroyo no era ninguna pelusa.
p 34 Gringo Viejo…
[At this moment —that is to say, Ewe know, Tune–in— to hear a “Dumb Country lawyer” in the voice of Joe Scarbourough shouting Eye—SAY, Eye–Say Eye du “Ob_Ject'”, Monsieur Le President of the Court!].
—ZAT, you REDD FOXX!?
Docket 2400 Fourteenth Street
Washingtoh, D.C.; sin código.
La mirada de Harriet Winslow, [triunfolento para los del Laboratorio en dónde ella “laburaba », según un boludo en la portería del equipo de Los Miranda] encontró la de Tomás Arroyo cuando el general entró MARCANDO al salón de baile (Versailles de Chihahuita) con un fuete en la mano.
La educadora gringa reúne los prejuicios presentes en individuos elevados en el llamado mundo civilizado en dónde los sistemas educativos curtén a los pupilos para actuar ante equís situación de acuerdo a las costumbres but most important, the Way of Life structured by the triunfoLentos that built R O M A in different epochs, not in ONE MOTHERFUCKING DAY.
Pass Interference and Stolen Base at the BOTTOM of the First Down of the midnight hour in Central NATO Times; en Nueva Yol’l son las Seis de La Tarde, and Heidi, please relay to the Purple Pundit that you have been authorized to wear The Color Purple whenever you want. Furthermore, for the forepage, if challenged by Oprah, or Mrs. Goldberg about the wearing of that garb, tell them that “Field Marshal Carlin” signed–off on this general order in accordance to the guidelines and protocols of AR 670–1 change 00110011.
PS. please relay to the elements who took the command decision to light up all the pretty little Doll Houses in pretty pastel hues that the subliminal shots at “PUTUS 45” look Fucking Awesome. I will be sending an invoice for “concept consulting & ideas” shortly, in the mean time, while Donald Trump remains grounding air transportation for all kind of “pelusas,” at all kinds of airports (civilian or otherwise) do keep your squelch in position “On”.