Machete francés and The Brutalist jive of a “Tax Made-in-France”.
Time Check, please… You Make Wednesday look Like Friday, it’s the 3am Hour along The PCH, in Paris it’s the 11th Hour in Pete Hegseth’s Retribution Times.
Les Samaritanes de Châtelet are not amused. In Dover, across Calais, a disgruntled Rutle [Stig] writes a swimming pool for his new Promenade des Anglais mansion on Maine Street with the royalties from a song directed at the Taxman titled, “fuck la pinche I.R.S.”.
She’s Gone Country. Lorène’s gonna hit the big time, and all she’s gotta do is, —act naturally. But first Öüï takes a walk on the Streets of Bakersfield where a showdown is about to take place.
On the “Rosa’s Cantina” end of the Road is a black “Arena Cattleman” cowboy hat wearing dude and on the opposite end of that Lane is a White wind deflecting Stetson-wearing stranger.
Yo Soy El Golfo d’América and I will bring TP to the good people of Puerto Rico in El Ey — Ewe Say Goodbye and Eye Say Hello.
In related moves, not to be outdone by our AMC Pinto blow-up coverage, the very French began blowing-up vehicular airbags on European cars.