EMOTIONS OF THE FRENCH

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The French, or as they say in France, ze fransh, are not like we normal people. They have a certain je ne sais quoi. I don't know what it is. I think it's saliva. They have more saliva than we Murkins. Maybe our friends who have just come back from Tuscany and Montenegro can shed some light on the subject. Remember Mexican Jumping Beans? I used to be so confused when people would say they're real, there's really a worm in there, and I would say, "for crying out loud, it's just a plastic capsule with a BB in it, you can open it up and see it, what are you, nuts?" Because that's all I knew a Mexican Jumping Bean was. But evidently there's an original Mexican Jumping Bean, and the other thing is like a Robot Mexican Jumping Bean. Remember Charo? She was like a hoochie coochie girl on Hollywood Squares? I didn't like her. Okay, I haven't been taking my meds. It makes my brain jump around like...like a Mexican Jumpiing Bean. Which I find endlessly fascinating. When you think about it, it's like the Spam Word Assembly Machine. It defeats logic and the conscious straight jacket. Which allows you to reach a new plane. What most people don't realize, though, is that's not a higher plane. It's just another plane. One where all your grotesque trashy smoking works don't sit there on the landscape tormenting you.