¡Recorcholis!!! Jean-Luc Berjon, ¡se volaron a Voltaire!
Dear, Eddie Gloude Jr., Eye apologizes for not being able to fit that Dang-on “Jimmy” segment, Em#pero, the entire Jazz Magazine section of La Seine stopped dead on their 8-tracks upon learning that Florence Cassez returned to a life of crime, this time in La France, where freedom of speech y la llamada “Liberté de exasperación” where invented, off-course.
Meanwhile in Washington, it’s Donald’s White Knights
Not to be outdone by the French, president Trump issued a dog whistle to FOX News upon learning that the City of Paris was deploying the misfits of La Nuit Blanche Battalion to search for the missing Voltaire along the inner barrios of the périphérique.
Digression
Newsreal presents: great moments in doppelgänger memories .:. F6887FAB-A2B4-41DC-9438-528AD6566881
… [a]nd in Virginia’s Fairfax watch, the more things change the more DAY stay the same
Deer, Hans Nichols, watch Cousin Joe’s body movement when Mika realizes that last night “debate” was not a debate but rather a segment of “moments”, or something like that.
Indeed Peeping Tom Indeed, en los Estados Unidos de David Brooks everybody forgot about the abortion fight and now some are even on “stand-by”.
Meanwhile at Mission Impossible Church (Saint Merri) in Paris, La nuit blanche lost an honorary member of its 2018 edition:
Mafalda
“Mundo Quino”
And that’s it. That was the month of September. Now, as y’all will begin to see how everything begins to unravel, Do keep in mind that the staff of this most non–consequential blog did mention at the beginning of this act between the makers of this most non–consequential blog (Öüï, Mí, and u.s.) and the Paris Préfecture que en Octubre tenía que ser, Raza.
Coming to most non-consequential blogs in October 2020: FLORENCE CASSEZKidnapsVoltaire
Youse’into music, right? And you are probably one of a handful of dumb-country lawyers who are sophisticated enough to appreciate a round-trip ticket on the Magical Mystery Bus and know, [i Say—K.N.O.W.] how to discriminate one of them, so called “feel-is” from “Pumpkin” Appleseeds on the big’ol BBC smacker of Macca’s replacement on the Abbey Road’s, which everybody at the Third Grade Library knows that (he) is not the real Paul… dot. dot. dot. DOT .
Every self-respecting shoe salesman knows that Paul broke a glass and that Cutie went out in a Cab. And even Iggy Pop knows that The Dead Don’t Die, and it’s probably because the dead, well they are already expired. Like the Colbert Report. Give it up Tom Hanks. Öüï all know that the real Stephen Colbert would never cut the lovely “Pumpkin” (turned librarylady for third graders, no less) in the middle of a reference to Kasie Curkuffle on the Em#–Es–En#–Bee–Sis.
RELEASE THE LATE SHOW, Colbert. Release the Late Show.
For… $69 Dallahrs. With your host: Porn ‘Stache Trebek.
Nice Brazilian Soul on that D.A.R.E. Break there, Drum Boy.
*… de Jack el Destripador
vía: Rockdrigo González
“El Amor que Yo te Tengo es el de
Reagan a Castro,
el de Somoza a Sandino,
—de Margarita a Galtieri“.
Ladies in Gemeni, the continuing story of Randito Pablito, a.k.a. Senator Rand Paul (R–KY) se tiene que destripar (visceralmente, pues) with the lovely voice of Generalissima Jordan, Elise [One–Each].
So, the story goes that back when little Rand Paul was a little weasel in middle school, the now Distinguished Gentleman from Kentucky used to give his Spanish Middle–school teacher a hard time, of course, as Ewe all know, and might remember, that in those days Corporal Punishment was all the rage at the pricipal’s office. Now, because little Randito was already beginning to show his true LEADERSHIP Colors, little RANDITO WOULD RUN STRAIGHT TO THE Vice-principal’s office, but I bet Ewe’all that Ewe wouldn’t guess why little Randito would seek SANCTUARY at the V.P’s. office?… Anygüey, if any broad could relay this anecdote, Elise Jordan is probably the most qualifyed to narrate it because she used to be Senator’s Rand strategist. We [the staff] are certain that Ms. Jordan certainly played bartender for Senator Paul, many–a–times listening to the Senator’s old “War” Stories.
But first, have you ever wondered what is the definition of an ABBÉ?… Ewe know, an abbé, the jolly-fat figure on those Belgian beers, a Fucking ABBÉ, Abbey.
Let’s ask the latest victim of indiscriminate vandalism pretendiendo ser protesta social o, peor, nuestro muy querido Grafitti, porque indeed, the Streets remain our Favorite Gallery:
En ce qui concerne l’Apocalypse; pg. 21/22:
Vous avez raison, messieurs, envahissez la terre; elle appartient au fort ou à l’habile qui s’empare; vous avez profité des temps d’ignorance, de superstition, de démence, pour nous dépouiller de nos héritages et pour nous fouler à vos pieds, pour vous engraisser de la substance des malheureux: tremblez que le jour de la raison n’arrivez.
The following is a Time–Delayed entry
from June 05, 2018.
Institut de France
75006
Tiempo de Híbridos / Ranch Electrónico… o como dicen los franceses: Una Rana con Sinfónica.
…
En lo que concierne a El Apocalipsis:
Tienen razón, caballeros, invadan la tierra; pertenece a la fortaleza o al hábil que se la apodera; han aprovechado los tiempos de ignorancia, de superstición, de demencia, de despojarnos de nuestras herencias y de pisotearnos a sus pies, para engordarse de la sustancia de los desafortunados: tiemblan porque el día de la razón no llegue.
Chien dans Le Periph, —en Ingés— follows… ¡bola de putos!
Lined-up: Voltaire, Taurus right hoof, and the Sun… “so it goes.“
…sountrack provided by Chet Baker:
Hola WaPo… check it out, in between the time that Stars shone their rays all over the Red Carpet near a nice dear place for the Staff, a Black hole located in the galaxy of little orange men spewed a belligerent Orange dwarf, meanwhile, as that event horizon was happening, back on planet Earth, the Solar System was already in the middle of a scheduled Rendez–vous between le 6émè Arrondissement and The Sun… this is to say, Jon Meacham, that in between 19h57 and 19h58 in Central Institut de France Time, a Bull got in between a great Show of Light à la côte del Mediterráneo [del Gran Joan Manuel Serrat… “de Algeciras a Estambul”) so, instead of Light what the world is sure to see in the coming months, is yet another great flash from a bullheaded man… Morante de La Puebla, urge tu arte para torear un toro anaranjado, aunque se le advierte, Matador, de que ese animal pesa más de 1000 megatoneladas de Uranio y/o Hidrogeno.
… Say, Jon… may i call you Jon? Of course i can, Ewe have That Thing that “they” call Southern Hospitality, a complete 180° from the Georgia Peach meets Maple Syrup incident, eh! Anygüey, Jon, if an equinox is commonly regarded as the moment the plane of Earth’s equator passes through the center of the Sun’s disk, what might you reckon that the moment when the center of the Sun’s disk passes through an illuminated earthling object might be, eh?
Sadly, with the news coming out of Washington, there is not but only one thing that the staff can do… yes Ewe! its time for another edition of: Piss Art on the Streets, with your host, armando segovia.
Now, before we [the staff] go and get the past eight hours or so of our choosen media, (asphalt and the urinary tract processed remains of a Cabernet d’Anjou, 2016 rosé) we are not sure if our host is going to go with Zappa or La Gioconda, non-viewer be warned, eh!!
…
Huh, who would have thunk it!
It’s astrophysicist and photographer with a SIGNATURE sound: Dr. Brian May:
Piss art in Paris… “Keep Yourself Alive”.
TimeStamp, Brian Williams—it’s the 11th Hour in Central EUROPE Time.
