Tag Archives: Bruce Willis — The Whole Nine Yards

Arnie got his flu-shot

Thank you Ali Vitaly for getting on, —the bus.

Any 🦉 hoot, Dan… thank you for the coffee and as Eye was re-counting to you this morning… anything, and Eye means anything that The Paris Tourism Board can do, I (Armando Segovia) can do better, and as don Quijote would probably paraphrase : if it wasn’t for the memories, Eye would probably be chillin’ and living la vie en rose next to Le Beaubourg, just because.

Sin Celery,
Frank Zappa.

Arnie took his FLEW-Shot

Goooooo, Dodgers.

For context Bruce Willis, as Arnold Governator might had suggested, after the Planet Hollywood franchise went the way of say, Señor Frogs in Mazatlán (México) in the late 90’s, that Bruce was a fucking “lazy” clochard, (maybe) maybe… but Bruce was never a fucking “kindergarten cop” for the MAGA Right.

Ha-ha… Fernando would be proud, almost a shut-out.

George Parker is a journalist for The Atlantic, and he can trace his wrong turns in Baghdad to George W. Bush and Donald Rumsfeld, and yes, George Parker is a fag 🚬 

You Say You Want To “finish” A Révolution?

Across The Atlantic, “America” needs Bruce Willis, not “patriotism”. So yeah, fuck Planet Hollywood and John Wayne. Yippee-Ki-Yea motherfucker, and Merry 🌲 Christmas to you.

 

Friends… Deer, Lorde! It’s Six Degrees of unplugged at La Maison de Marjolaine

Previously on Kevin Bacon did French Toast with a side of Mika, and this is last Weak to They.

Ok, by the numbers:

1. Pretty woman.

Jack Nicholson, Susana Pubeda, even in his sendlitud Selenitud twilight remains a fast Caballito Galopante 🐴.

That’s self evident if youse a non reader of this most non-consequential blog, but just in case you think where the next Curve is going to, here’s a pretty horse… and in Paris, France, as Öüï speaks, mister Sara°Tú°$tras, Louis Pasteur just figured out how to tell a horse’s age just by looking at the Beast’s gum-Line.

Did you use JAVEL or Montsouris for that stop? The shirt gave Ewe, a Güey.

Heck, Eye reckons that… wait one, I’ve lost my RER B to Robinson train of thought.

I am an Antichrist and I am an Antidentite… any how, Javel is a cockroach enabling agent.

2. False advertisement

And, Susana Puveda, fuck Denis Soula, first and for—most, no Soula-ment une fois, but many, many, many times and here is, Y (why en Wall Street Anglais de Nice (06)).

Because, Deer 🦌, The Producers forgot the Butterfly 🦋 Effect and instead used a Flock Of Birds, flamingos de Camargue  🦩 of all places and Ewe knows that it is 🐂.

But that red 🚪hallway at the Thorne’s residence at least was little bit reminiscent of The Shining, sans the Twins and RedruM, off-course.

3. Let them eat cake, you French 🥖 Bastards. Thank you for the pastrami sandwiches… and all that Jazz.

But if Ewe join me on the Next post, it’s DENTISTS WITHOUT BORDERS… deer, Friends.

The Tulip 🌷 was here… Yippy Kay Yey, motherfuckers.