Tag Archives: William Theiss — The Abbé d’Aubignac

Room for other people — it’s a Cyclops world

Rue de Rivoli, casi esquina con Clochard Central under Pont Neuf en face à La Moneda.

https :// fip /certains-l-aiment /entretien-avec-valeria-bruni-tedeschi

Read between the lines and call Mí in the Morning before breakfast 🥞.

We begin in Nice, where the Promenade des Anglais-eses are worshipping El Mar ⛵, or something like that.

Over at Ventimiglia, the MIGA movement is making Saturday Night great again.

Venezia!!! — et CARLA Bruni!!! — Y Mozarella!!! quiero tírarme — A VALERIA BRUNI (cha-cha-cha)… Eye wanna be your FANstassi, maybe Ewe could be Mine.

Trastaverina… Roma es | se amoR

Hoy no hubo Bowie. Janis on the other side of that oyster ate Bobby’s clam chowder on, “As The World Turns”.

No insistas Susana, mi corazón es de Bruni.

And starring as Oliver “PRóXIMO” Reed : Mí³

³~. Le Monk d’Aubignac : Rubén Gallego

Venn Russell Diagrams… Six Degrees of resurrection.

“Gladiator”, the film that resurrects the dead and destroys cinema … next!

It’s the 11 hour now and I’m Batman. I’ll Take, Ewe dare. It’s the Stack Story and La Résurrection de la Cathédrale.

https ://www .lemonde .fr /culture /video /2024/11/13 /gladiator-le-film-qui-ressuscite-les-morts-et-detruit-le-cinema

***

Australia and Russell “Maximus Spick” Crowe is are the enemy, —Aussi.

Intermedio with Admiral Stradivarius

And, Katty Kay… not that Pablo Torre has to, but squint yer’ i’s a little closer, because Mika is going to get a (wet) T-shirt at Canoga Park’s favorite “la brasserie”, Jesus himself just got a warm fuzzy picturing that… now Cry Me A River.

All the squares that fit… and if yer’ name is Dr. Johanne Poisson, picture that yello’fella eating Hamburgers in Paradise on The Rachel Maddow Show.

 

Any how… it takes an Eastern European Village to make France Unfriendly.

I’m just happy that (according to a former Russian president) that little Easter European village is fictional.

In local news:

https ://apnews .com /article /romania-russia-gold-sent-to-moscow-during-world-war-1-european-parliament-says

Romanian Treasure in Moscow: Medvedev says Romanians are not a nation.

Now then, as the first Made-in-France refugee, I know what a refugee looks like, and Juanito Guanabacoa is not one of Em#.

Shame on a nigga who try to run game on Free Money… and, Representative Gatel, box breath and sip some tea, because March is ODB’s international remembrance day and this year’s honorary nigga carrying the torch of, I swear That I am Knot making this up, is France’s Economy Minister, and soft-porn peddler, Bruno Le Maire.

With that in mind, let’s Ketch-up with French smut after lunch, edition Lili et Marcel à Bercy.

But first, it’s another edition of Homer and the culture of the streets… en El País de Spain, page 14 on the Saturday, March 16th “Contra los idiotas”, de Troyes, o algo así by Nuria Barrios.

“Nothing is known about Homer, there are some who think that he never existed and that his name is a mask that hides behind it all who sang the fabulous histories of of the Trojan war.”

Insert Coin — Pont Neuf at La Monnaie

 

And I quote, « Magnificent », but The Dog That Smokes next to Indiana at CNES square in Les Halles is not Châtelet, it’s important and it proves one of the answers given by Mayor Bass outside of La Fabrique de La Solidarité at Paris Second ward at La Bourse de la bendita AFP :

https :// youtube .com /watch /LA-Mayor-Bass-delegates-finish-Paris-trip-with-tour-of-Olympic-facilities-local

Insert Coin 👾🕹️

Note to the KTLA editors in Rancho Cucamonga: in 1734, la manche was a “gift”, in metropolitan contemporary Paris of the Games of The XXXIII Olympic Summer Games it means to panhandle, just like in HOMER’s days in Classic Greece.

There are plenty of Angelinos available to help, even with something as simple as giving directions… But the AFP editors only accept Angelinos with a Bostonian accent, and the Kennedies looks.

The Kids in Les Halles via KTLA on Shuttle Left to The Loop.

 

¿En dónde está le Beaubourg,?

Arts et Métiers — Line 3 They… Crab-a-Locker fishwife

2017 — Louis Michel via La Porte de Issy-les-Moulineaux …, “pornographic pristess³ ».

Note to Valérie Solanas: Eye shot Andy Warhol, but I did not shoot the nigger at « Shuttle Left » next to KTLA.

³~. The French Blond Begger Bastard confirmed that those Sista’s took siestas with The Ursulites de Loudon Town.

Now for context to the KTLA broad in Paris, The Ursulites were not the first order of Holy-ho’s that landed in the Brave New 🌎 World (ask Huxley, that guy adapted the book for the movie), and over at the Holy 🇻🇦 See they were know as “The Mobile Ones” on account that those bitches landed at Mardi Gras and introduced the Natives there to the Mendiants de la veladora perpétuel.

So what, What you gon’ Dew Now, Brown? How does this connect to Nuestra señora de los Ángeles?

— Boobie, you have to speak to Sophie 🛼 Fofie at La Bagagrie because she’s the benevolent WFA (with fixed abode), or ADF as the 115 📞 land-line discriminates from the W/OFAs (Without Fixed Abode) that has the keys to them Olympic Rings… and how those CIRCLES relate to the rules of Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.

So I buried a Blond French Beggar Bastard at La Bagagrie

“Just the facts, ma’am, just the facts”.

Homer was a French Clochard at Pont Neuf.

Intermission with 🎹 Entertainer
… and
The Tramp

In appréciation for all that Pastrami on rye. Thank Ewe, French Bastards.

Let’s call it what it is or rather, what it was, The Bastard was a Mendiant, and that French Blond was in fact “sitting on a corn flake”, and Eye swears that he was not making that shit up, but sources close to the Haskell Clan from KTLA assure the Telemundo broad that the NBC crew ate that shit up!

So where is the Mendiant buried now?

I inserted that fucker underneath the Landing just where the final Riser meets the final Soffit. It was a perfect fit.

The Shuttle Left and The Loop quartiers de Paris… and Mayor Bass, if you want to get IDEAS on how to bring « business » to the Downtown L.A. during the 2027 Olympics, just ask The Westfield Clan, heck they Even brought in HOMER’S favorite treat and, BASTARDIZED that French croissant 🥐 into a French doughnut, why even Franglish is all the rage.

The top of the stairs next to heater number 8 seemed the perfect place to stick that unmissable bum. It’s where Representative Gatel from the Left Bank would have wanted that ex-Jacobin buried at, Father James would most certainly not object to D.A.T., period!

But why?

Because that French Bastard was a Dominican, the Almonds gave that fucker away, so Öüï had to put the Beggar at the top of the stairs, that’s where the Albino cockroaches celebrated mass.

VOSTFranglish, subtitles provided by Stupid A.I., period!

And besides, that Blond French Mendiant Bastard was known to frequent The URSULITES, and those bitches sent our man ♂️ Vrbanvs Granderivs (Urbain Grandier, if youse not into Latin), in Loudun Town, to burn at The Stake, a known disco inferno joint where Cardinal Richelieu had his couch sessions with Mother Superior, Jeanne des Agnès and The Sisters of Mercy. Trou  🕳️ Story.

The real super fly Bond³ — Grave diggin’ in Burlington, Vermont

³~. For the record, fuck Alabama and their Tide… and Harvard, —Aussi.

And, Katty Kay… Alabama got me so upset, do you remember why I told Mick Jagger about Le Corbusier? Exacltly, Katty, exactly, and this is why I Hate The Sixties and Derek and The Dominos. Any monkey can write about Murder and I hope that Ewe can guess my name.

 

But nevermind the preliminaries, Juan-Bautista Urbano, because Live From The Jesuit-run Saint Mary’s Military Academy in Tokio (also dubbed as The National Défense Academy of Japan) is Fire At-Will and remember, Max Dozolme, I buried Titus, ask Doctor Poisson, she knows where I buried that pussy-cat.

And now let’s dig a Grave (pronounced in Castellano, not en Hebrew or Israel main export 🪦), an Acute, and a flat ass tortilla.

El próximo toro le corresponde a Duke Ellington, never mind The Caravan, take the A-Train por el redondel.

But first, Tomorrow in French theaters, “The Real Thanksgiving”… the only good ‘injun is Palestinian.

The Vanity of The Tents.

And, Mika, Except for that Spanish fellow, fuck all Pablos on God’s Green Earth. For the Record, Torre, I used to bullfight in TorreON, so your little Harvard lapel pin does not even impress the soccer guy from Rosbifland.

VOstF... 🎶

And now, let’s find out… if Torre shows up on Friday.

Synopsis:

Séneca and El Cordobés are sitting on Barrera de Sombra, hilarity ensues when Bob Dylan improvisés an espontáneo and jumps to El Ruedo de la monumental plaza de toros de Lerdo. El Cordobés and Seneca were arguing about the actual existence of un tal Homère, which El Cordobés argues that if Homère in fact existed, he would be a blind beggar playing tricks at La Samaritaine under The Pont Neuf, and not someone that Cervantes or Shakespeare would look up to.

Eye sees your stupid little “CiviliSAtions”, Cardinale ♦️ Lemoine³

³~. And I, Armando Segovia, raise you la rue Mouffetard and all of the bitches playing Strip Bingo there.

15h30… That’s only the fourth hour of my cocoa puffs news hour siesta in CET.

But first… It’s the jungle necessities of the book, or something like that 🍯 any how, it used to go by the BoBar, and then—I forgot what Vilma Fuentes called that joint, but for François a la patate’s sake, we have already established it as just another coq en París.

https :// the coq bar .com /asegovia3.com /23 /10/ 06

On Tú They’s Menu

 

I swear that I don’t choose the Mothers of Frank’s Invention, I just Zapp’em.

Ladies in Gemini: El elefante de Beaubourg

 

And in local news, hoy no hubo jazz.

The Fry Attachment Rate, by François a la patate

LAS CHINCHES DE DOÑA VILMA en PARÍS

Now in the lexico del campo glosario of the BISTRO sphere in Paris, the names of the bricks, like the ideology of the BISTRO clientele’s IDEOLOGY might change, but the physical address stays the same, —unless there’s like a major REGIME change, in which case, the streets, the avenues and of course, its boulevards change the heros and the events.

It used to be the BoBar…
continuing with page 181 of Marie-Ange Schiltz’ “cajonería³“, this is the final paragraph (V) of page 181 and it adapts a little something like this:
Alexander, my dear Alexander, with his uncertain reasoning, jerky speech and thick, almost incomprehensible British accent. English, I think he’s a class act. He used to be a teacher, they say. Alexander scours Paris, I walk a lot. We’ve met several times around Montparnasse.—
End of Page, jump to page 182

 

³~. … not to be confused with “co°jo°nes° because La Bagagerie’s setup is basically a collection of cajones; but yes, baggage is reason for those cajones to be;

Whoooop*, there it is 🍟 FRENCH GIRLS BLOWING TRUMPets:

It’s DINAH thyme 🎺

https ://asegovia3 .com /2017/04/29 /french-girls-blowing-trumpets/

Page 182, La Jornada con y sin chinches, y se adapta así para Primero Mis Huevos y luego, y luego mis Hot Cakes:
So British, he goes the distance. Our surprise explodes joyfully and sincerely on the sidewalk. As always, our interactions end as abruptly as these began. Alexander goes his way, I go mine. We turn and greet each other. We haven’t said a word, and yet I know he’s as pleased as I about this unexpected encounter.
¶1, page 182.

 

https ://asegovia3 .com /2017/04/03 /glosario-y-campo-lexico-spectacles/

*~. Sorry if I dismembered your jingle… got Ketchup?

After the break, it’s The Exorcist, ISSY, your mother sucks Coq at La Maub del Cardenal Elmonje de Lemoine en El Anahuacalli… HOY POR SER, día del reparto de tierras del Tata Cárdenas, te venimos a cantar. Ejido Sies de Octobre, —presente.

It used to be Le Maubert, now it’s just another place to suck Coq. Rumor°Osa calims that the coq is not even French, Kosher or dare EYE say, Halāl! Sources close to Vilma Fuentes en las Tres Puertas de La Maub relay that el gallo is none other than the infamous “GALLITO INGLÉS”, aunque usted no lo crea.

Dear fip.fr: thank you for going Stasi* — Reach out touch Faith

 

Re-interpretation

 

*~. But most importantly, because this ain’t no disco, no C.B.G.B’s. (punto y coma) Eye ain’t gots Thyme for that now, —Ewe know.

Cut!!!!!!!
It’s “like a Japanese CAT”, knot like a fucking horse.

 

In local news, The Our Lady of Los Ángeles ☄️⚾  Philharmonique is playing next to Marie-Ange’s Bagagerie, it’s a West(side)Story Engagement, nothing to see here, move along… and never mind them police barriers at Sarah’s Théâtre.

The Devil is in a Sharp dressed man 👞 , never mind the details or las bienvenues et départs when Youse down and out near Montparnasse, and dear Marie-Ange Schiltz this is the slot where the dearly departed are always welcome, and where the “Mini-Madrina” snapshot from the other day comes in, unfortunately Denis Soula and Susana Pubeda hijacked my British-Queen bitch segment… any how here’s the TEA on that walkabout session that closes the Month of September. ENTER Alexander.

… continued from Schiltz’ « Daily homeless (W/OFA (güo’FA) » :

Alexander, mon cher Alexander, aux raisonnements incertains, au débit saccadé mâtiné d’un fort accent britannique, quasi incompréhensible. Anglais, je lui
trouve de la classe. Il fut professeur, dit-on. Alexander écume Paris, je marche
beaucoup. Nous nous sommes plusieurs fois reconnus du côté de Montparnasse.

¶5,  p.181

Fin de page

Stop making sativa sensi, sensei!

Is this not the Python moment you All were waiting for?

Très british, il tient la distance. Notre surprise explose joyeuse et sincère sur le trottoir. Comme toujours, nos interactions s’arrêtent aussi brusquement qu’elles ont commencé. Alexander reprend son chemin, moi le mien. On se retourne, on se salue. Nous n’avons rien verbalisé, et pourtant, je sais qu’il est aussi heureux que moi de la rencontre inopinée.
¶1, p. 182

Note to whomEva’ gots’ the control of fip dot fr right now:

Jesus will fix, IT!, for you.
Just like Jesus fixed
Louis “the just’s” 13th Hot Rod.

Enter the Rhapsodes… knot to be tied to°get°her° {nor} confused with Snoop Dogg’s rendition of Freddy Mercury’s “Murder Was The Case That They Gave Mí” because, d’Aubignac’s (and I quote) « [H]istory of archaic Greek performances justified his theory of THE STICHED-To°Get°Her° corpus³ ». In this sense, Sensei, the Iliad was a sort-of-middle-of-the-road, Frank Zappa kind of quilt in the form of ‘little poem tragedies’, not DRAMAS performed by actors but “hymns or canticles” that Greek princes had performed (JUST like the Just King at the beginning of Ken Russell’s THE DEVILS film) at their feasts³³.”

³~.

“And since they did not always have poets on hand for new works, they decided to take the episodes or detached pieces from those who had some reputation, and those who plied this trade were called Rhapsodes—they not only sang, but also danced gracefully and artfully expressing with their bodies the sense of the verse. …”,
Theiss, p. 85

 

³³~.

I know where you get yer’ Chinks from now.