³~. Issy-Sonia-Carneiro, oui, güi, we… you remind me of the first Mexican that i (Armando Segovia) met in France, not in Paris but way down south, any 🦉 hoot Sonia Cabrona, in hindsight it’s true that my miserable eyes have learned and ‘discovered’ many wonderful things in « La France » but like i told your doppelganger à Montpellier one generation ago :

Corral means -patio trasero ; and Sonia Carneiro, the reason why i was granted the Carte Compétences et Talents in L.A. (Dec. 2010) was because i promised not to review La France using Jorge Saldaña’s ‘French Civilisation ass-licking Style’ (for context see Mel Brooks take on Robin Hood and his greeny tights) or, for those who know where the Pont Neuf’s conditioning is at during the 2026 Spring/Summer Nuit Blanche, in the time-lapse style of the Associated Press advertorial 🪨 sales department page 📜.
_ so, Whit[e] Sunday in mind, i knew back in 2008 that France was going to be gradually mexicanized, not turn into México, but sure-as-fuck “aromatisé” like that disgusting Desperados™ tequila/beer booze brand… and if you don’t believe Mí, ask any French crime news producer or any in the rotation of ministers of the INTERIOR at Court Saint-Émilion, but KNOT-to-They because today is Whit[e] Monday and Jesus’ real 🕊️ dad (not his legal 🔨 one🪚) is on an extended-pont férié with all of the gang of derelicts and bums that spread the “good news” to unrepentant goy-haters in Judea, Galilée, and to the motherfuckers clochards near la Samaritaine.
Over at the anti-Gentile House of the Shrimp-eating PIGS from Israel, it’s King David never knew what he missed, —or did he?
Shalom, motherfucker, 🐷 oink 🐖 oink and all that Jazz.






























