Tag Archives: Moulin Rouge vS Don Quijote

Avenir Déconstruction — don’t believe the Cunt

Gospel Groove — Shuggie Otis 🎸… any 🦉 hoot, Mike Barnacle, you son of a bitch! Best seats in the house.

So cool, your culito… but nevermind Pablo Torre, Öüï’s talking rock royalty here, and for context, it’s like Cousin Joe reminisce in the Eat-yer-Crow segment about driving over a hill, or taking a turn and a song about some Tequila 🐂💃🏼 Sunrise comes over the radio… I know the feeling, not only in California but also in Catalonia when Serrat sounded over the airwaves followed by La Pantoja and some Juan Gabriel song in Spain… Así fue.

… and Zeppelin, goes here.

Nobody’s Fault but mine.

A crown of righteousness for working overtime.

Hate Speech is free speech, in Argentina… and if you are BRONTIS at The Prefecture de Paris, i told your stupid ass all those years ago that the future of journalism was about a TROLL, Ewe fils de pute!!! Say hello to your sexy boss, and if you are Johanne Poisson you know what I am writing about.

Raul Julia was the best Addams… Diego Luna was the best Morning Joe guest… George Clooney stars as the cunt in The Mill.

Come away with me… El canto de la sirena Jones ; Don’t-don’t believe the cunt, Don Quijote… she’s just a fucking Moulineaux, Issy-it’s-Trou 🕳️.

That’s “A.D.” if you know the Gospel

Well alright now… Previously on “Don Quijote de La Mancha

And in local news, the French Left is lollygagged in their own internal quest and are late to School.

French logick

June 14, that’s only ten Theys ago, and Five from Président Macron taking his toys and going home leaving a place called New Scotland, Caledonia, or something like that in a Shower of Shit, according to The Guardian. On that particular morning, the elementary school that ends where La Bagagerie begins awoke to an empty nude wall. The City, in it’s its infinitely wisdom removed the political metal frames where the faces of politicians are glued before an election, like the one announced by mister Macron after Le Pen knocked on his door, any hoot, common sense would dictate that said metal frames should have been left in place, just like the temporary ramp access ♿ for elderly drivers… I reckon that the City has to go through the affiche process, instead of just straight-pasting the next candidate’s mug over the losing ones, but no. It’s like all those god-damned copies at the préfecture. Long waste of logistics short, the affiche boards were re- installed four days after Macron took his toys home, and Grabiel, —yet again— lost another ministry.

I have a feeling the that if Jupiter would have remained cool and not stormed out of the playground after his team was put on time out, those motherfucking metal frames would still be standing, but why leave for tomorrow what can be done today.

They make an early start, the Enlighten and Pure lefties left the “affiches-es” with Lisa Leblanc in Québec, sources close the precious metals excavation enterprises-es relay that Lisa just said, “why do something today, when it could be done tomorrow,” adding, “Eye guess! ».

 

Meanwhile at Kay Central, Évry fox is wearing red.

Migrant Midgets from Outer Space vS Christian Gnomes from Trump Tower.

And in 20 minutes, it’s page 6… it’s true, La Trous 🕳️.

Toute agression physique et ou verbale envers le personnel hospitalier en EXERCICE DE  TRAUMATISÉE DES VICTIMES de violences sexuelles fera l’objet de poursuites POR MADRINAS JUDICIARIES.

ART. 106.3-FM du code penal de JUANITO GUANABACOA.

 

Dear, Maud Gatel… Happy Saint-Germain-des-Prés³

https ://www .lemonde .fr /economie /article /2024/05/03 /at-france-inter-journalists-and-producers-worry-for-their–liberte-d-expression

Cocaine Unfrosted 🐯 The breakfast of champions… bola de putos!

 

… and, Katty Kay, nevermind the pop tarts, have some UNFROZEN COCAINE for breakfast. Now back in the day, in El Ey off course, it was a primo to just get things started, no time for lines just roll it into a pop tart and… ah nevermind, I am not supposed to talk directly (in)to the fourth wall.

https ://www .radiofrance .fr /fip /podcasts /club-jazzafip /special-festival-jazz-a-saint-germain-des-pres-paris

And the colored girls go: What it is—what, IT!, is.

 

³~. On this, Press Freedom Day, take it from me, Mme. representative, the first Made-in-France refugee, courtesy of President François Hollande and The Year of Mexico in France, Russia as the biggest menace to Marianne is a checkerboard ♟️on an ice rink ⛸️, unfortunately for the next hour or so nothing else matters ‘cus Eye just smoked a joint.

But any how, who, why and/or when, señor Sicilia, I tried to talk to you back when you visited the Grand Palais foreign press welcome center in 2012, however, just as with Omar and the Ayotzinapa legal adviser, mister Pablo Gleason and the Cervantes Institute fellows, including a little propaganda tool named ULLOA, all together as a collective, had tainted your judgement/cause with total slander towards my independent journalism project in la bendita y sacrosanta France.

But why?

On the next segment Los Toreros Muertos will tell you why, —Javier.

Where Eyes comes from I reckon we call it a “blimp”, but that’s just to fuck with Michelin.

 

Across Pigalle, however, los perros ladran and The Man From La Mancha don’t give a Brel. Hope Hicks on the other hand is frying crying on the stand.

But never mind Donald Trump, I am focused on Sicilia, the man who back in 2012* at least on 2012 should have known that his sabbatical in France was sponsored by, “football, fado, and Fatima²”, because the people handling his propaganda, or Public Relations were non other than the part-time Mexican Embassy photographer and Pablo Gleason, who of course was aligned with Televisa and the Mexican Cinéma Show in Cannes.

*~. Postales milagrosas a Enrique Peña Nieto. Rue de Longchamp, Grand Palais, Église de La Madeleine, South of France.

²~. It’s the Portuguese man o’ war formula for shithole countries govern-mental control.

Pour Que Ry? Pour que sí!

La Cigale with las boules noir productions présents:

It’s Magik, that’s what I dew.

… in collaboration with Baldheaded Ho’s Entreprises and Julio Iglesias:

The opening act before the Show

It was a bout scheduled for an Eternity, but no body, not even Évry body saw, IT!, coming, Buika herself in all her darkness was Drinking “el último trago” when Don Quijote knocked the Wings out of that Red Mill. Trou story.

https ://www .leparisien .fr /paris-75 /paris-75018 /paris–les-ailes-du-moulin-rouge-se-sont-effondrees-dans-la-nuit-aucun-blesse-25-04-2024

Oh, l’humanité, in the words of Australia, “Tragedy”.

“Öüï avoided the worst”: in Paris, the wings of the Moulin Rouge came off… un hidalgo de La Mancha was booked with disturbing the Burlesque.

…