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Has now rounded Mollinier Pt within sight of the Melville St Slaughterhouse. VJL who has lived under the Tyrannical rule of the Bullying Bull for the last year, is praying for the reincarnation of Lio B. Cave, and the venerable Buddey, to preside over such a history making ceremony.Back in the shop Saltfish head is taking bets on who will win the skin, the tripe the steaks and even the hooves and horns for view coeur. I goin fuh de blood pudden.
I see you are making a desperate attempt to breathe some life back into this Talkshop by calling upon the spirits of Mr. Lio, Cave and Buddeh to do your dirty work of slaughtering the Bull. But as I am a more cultuted Frenchman, versed in European Literature and one who would not indulge in this primitive, uncivilized undertaking to relieve the Cow from its miseries, I prefer instead to revisit the works of the Shakespearean period to find something more apro-po but yielding the same result.
And low and behold, it is William who has come to my rescue, with his rendition of Julius Caesar and with a part that would assure your receiving that pint of blood you thirst, or enough to satisfy you proclivity for wanting your Blood Pudding. So in recognition of your upper-class Englishness and your close association with the religious denominations in your southern quarters where your forgiveness would be assured for your diabolic act, I think the part of Casca would suit you well. I hope you remember his part of being the first to plunge that knife into Caesar's chest.
DeCoteaux would play the part of Brutus as he had showed some partiality for Caesar in wanting to give him a chance and wishing him success.
I, on the other hand, prefer the role of Marc Anthony and would be just as kind to you all in my preamble.
Can you see me now, explaciating with my Francophoning on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and with tears running down my face in sorrow for what you all had done?
"Oh pardon me thou bleeding peace of earth, that I am meak and gentle with these butchers! Thou art the ruins of the noblest man that ever lived in the tide of times......"
And in addressing the congregation in my most perspicacous manner, prefaced my speech with the noted line.... "Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones".
All this, while you busily try to get a container for your blood.
This to me is a more civilized approach, instead of carrying that "ole Heiffer" all the way to that Abattoir.
Monsieur Louison from the French Quarters
Monseur Louison,something must have been lost in the Anglo / Franco translation, but you have surely misinterpreted my motives for the last posting.I am not trying to breathe life into this talk shop as you suggested, I have long concluded that this here is more akin to a funeral parlor, where mourners come to see 'who dead' offer their condolences, peep and depart disgusted because of the non existence, of the ubiquitous "happy hour"
My posting was to be a harbinger of the impending demise of "The Raging Bull"was supposed to be an epitaph on the tombstone whenever that brutish beast, is finally retired to the greener pastures of the Great Beyond.To the great relief of the entire world, I must add.
Given your ancestors history for collaborating with the enemy. circa 1940-1944, I had long suspected that you might have been an admirer-or of the Dangerous Don,the Manchurian Candidate and Colluder in Chief. But never in my wildest dreams, had I anticipated, that you were such an avid student, the Sense's Grasshopper, soaking in his conniving methods and 'dutty trix",as explained by your mastery of the 'art of distraction.
While the majority of citizens of the land of "the not so brave" is peeing in their collective pants, sleeping with one eye open, for fear that "The Chump may get up one fore-day mornin", and press de wrong butten, thinking it is de espresso machine' you chose to ascend your Patrician Perch, high up in the fancy shmancy suburbs of the Upper State,and wielding a Shakespearean Scalpel, as if it were a rusty cutlass, proceeded to surgically dissect my plebeian post as if performing a Cesarean section.
Well VJL I suggest that you heed the good bard, Billy Shakespeare's advice, and "Free from the bondage you are in Massala". while I will enjoy the Pudden, I will be saving the 'PIstle" for you, mon amie. ROTFLMAO.
Monsieur DS, sah!
My reference to your 'wanting to breathe some life back into the talkshop', was only an "aside" with tongue-in-cheek as a prelude to address the more pressing issue of a clarion call for a deliverance of some sought. It is one which we desperately is in need of, yet seems to be slowly developing at a snale's pace.
But as the gist of your post seems to take on a hyperbolic tone with a twist of double entendre, gesticulations and a rhetorical reference to the Bull's faith, I thought that a synonymous allusion to the handling of Ceasar could be made in satisfaction of the deliverance which I seek and the blood puddin you desire. Towards this end, I thought that you had displayed great literary potential, enough to be awarded the main part of performing that coupe de gra`ce on Caesar and make Mr. Cave, Buddeh and Lio proud.....lol
Sah! but on a serious note, you have no idea of the pain and suffering I have to endure on a daily basis in seeing this creature appear in prime time, fretting me with every word that comes out his mouth. This never-ending torturous engagement, comprised of a few basic syllables and spoken in a circular twang, seems tantamount to the frothiness of coagulated spit! and can at best, find some equivalent to the Bull's biological ability to free itself from its furmentated pile.
And lastly Sah! as we are now bombarded with news, this time of an intercourse involving Caesar and an admitted Putain, I trust that the Pistle you were so keen on me getting would be followed by your donation of the $130,000 (US denomination) I would be needing?
Did Selwyn and Saltfish Head put you up to this? Eh!
Monsieur Louison from the French Quarters
Hey Vern, greetings from the "Oil of Spice" where every ting, is nice nice, nice. De landslide come down last night, and bury everybody and every ting dat aint green. Today de spice is one big happy hour. You padner Selwyn is still on his election hustle, he say he chargin $5, to take yellow jersies off the hands of de losers, if dey will buy ah green one for $25.00 from him. That way dey can blend in at de Victory parties. That Selwyn sure know how to make ah money.
Don't believe for minute that I am not feeling your pain. We know that you live in a circus run by Homey de Clown,who is as clueless, as he is vile and disgusting and dangerous. But you must have seen it coming since the brute entered the American Bullring two years ago. Some time ago I posted my concern about the ugly underbelly of the society which calls itself the greatest Country,aka Show on Earth. Well the rampaging bull has torn the scab off, exposing the Racism, Misogyny,and Hippocracy, which allows the White supremacists, the evangelicals and the republicans, to posture as righteous and moral citizens while sumptuously dining on 'Caca Boeff' served up by the Chump.
Yep all ah dem God fearing, bible thumping shysters, were busy killing the Obamma family, for visiting the CHURCH of Rev. Wright, remember that? while embracing a guy who pays hush money to prostitutes, fornicates with multiple women out of wedlock, and grabs those he can by the p---sy. I guess white is right, but Wright was wrong.
Poor people from the boonies have drank the Kool aid, and convinced themselves that a spoiled rich brat from NYC who has never empathized with their kind for 70 years, will now be their angel. Seriously?
So intoxicating is that witches brew (who say ah din read Shakespeare}, that they even forget that their parents ad grand parents were emigrants coming to America for a better life, or that two of the three wives of their grand exulted ruler, are so foreign, that they are yet to speak the lingo.
Well they got what they voted or paid forard now they are riding the clown car, all the way to the flaming gates of Hell. My advice to you Vern, is to hop off! Hop off, the way you would if Chuff bus bung away on Mabouya Hill.