Let’s go to Rome… I know a famine fémina fresa 🍓 there

🐘🐘🐘🚹

Goodfellas

 

The year is 1979, and young Mika just got spooked by a cockroach (🪳), hilarity ensues when she spills the Rich People’s bean dip, which the French buy in Russia, and call caviar.

And, Katty Kay… is Cousin Joe mirroring my tactical chow position with that little table between Admiral Stradivarius and his big stupid pundit Flori🌸bama noggin?

Eye tell Ewe what, Jordan… Eye tells Ewe what Öüï are not going to talk about, JAMáS, jamás, Hamas.

Except for the interesting 🤔 mAgNeTism of an MAGNETIC Résonance Imaging, and Cousin Joe, you’ve seen my credentials and you can check with the Vocational Rehabilitation Ed’s Benefits at William Beaumont in Old El Paso, I actually took apart all kinds of medical diagnostic devices back when the Millennial clock-synchronization “trick” was a thing and these big-ticket gadgets included Nuclear, Magnetic, Computed Tomography, X-ray and Ultrasound to mention a few, so… either, HAMAS uses plastic machine guns, or the IDF is too stupid to plant evidence.

Now, if at the time, in 1999 the GEMS* had not had the the 1950’s IBM dress code, and instead worked with the Xerox™ laid-back (no tie required) uniform, I would probably be double-dipping a federal and Defense Industry retirement, instead, Cousin Joe, I am just watching the RSA and solidarity pay awardees “go round and round”.

*~. General Electric Medical Systems.

But Öüï sure is going to tell Mika where Eye is headed to, and that’s to Scarborough Castle, where Mí is going to look at a 45° angle to the unmarked grave of a very-very nice fellow who used charity and benevolence to get away with Benny Hill’s broads.

Well… Ewe’ve Ho’id About The Red , The Blue, and off-course El Rock de La Langosta — It’s Knot One Of Dos.

 

✍🏼 🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗 … Rock Lobster was a fag, sin celery, The Desert Locust.

But speaking about fags, Öüï cought caught up with Moses and the ol’Patriarch spilled the beans on “eSe Corse, Martin.

Somewhere over the Rainbow… En Chihuahua

Warning ⚠️ Slippery 🩸 When 🩸 Wet 🩸…
Musiques des films qu’il faut avoir vu avant après 14 ans, in Allegretto en Las Alturas, Municipio de Cerocahui en La Sierra Tarahumara.

Trou 🕳️ story, ask Musicopolice… the only france musique disc jock who can play rock and roll:

{and}

For the record ⏺️
Víctor Quintana Silveyra (2013–2014 IHEAL / morena-francias godfather, —literally, not philosophical, despite his PhD*) once asked of his Sorbonne Annex students what all of the information that they (Masters-level courses, o algo así) compiled from social media was for? What good, the professor asked, was scrolling and scrolling through the internet in the end?

Cat Soup… Get it?

Response:

If the good Profe could see U.S. now, and if Eye could recreate that sticky early-evening class setting, Öüï would tell him that all that scrolling is the Harmony in la pianola, après Le MIDI®️

Full disclosure:
… at the time, I only scrolled the interwebs for porn, on CSPN, of course, and occasionally on the Buzzfeed.

Living on a prayer now with Mariachis and Low Riders, verda’ d’Dios Que Sí. A Huevo Que Sí³.

³~. A huevo que sí 🇲🇽 = 🇫🇷 bien Sur 

Behold! Yo soy del mero Chihuahua y Yo Quiero Taco Bell.

Sources close to Las Dunas de Samalayuca y El Rancho “Los Dos Cachorros” relay that over at Taco Bell Central (The Great Sovereign State of Chihuahua en Las Galaxias) the body count for the month of June just topped 60 souls, and in the following section, our Brad Pitt puerto riqueño, FENSTER the Copy Editor, will figure out just how many GRAMS, collectively they weight.

Ladies in Gímenez… JESUSITA en Chihuahua no es JESUITA, and she fucking hates YODA!

Mientras tanto, allá en la Diocèses de Molière, Colbert was breaking the rules of The Temple. Trou 🕳️ to form, Colbert sent his sicarios to pound on the doors. May God help us all and bay bee 🐝 Jesús keep U.S. on his baby 🐥 prayers.

Living on a prayer and Taco Bell.
-_-
🎶🎸 We’ll Give It A Shot!