Let's get it straight. It's the day those of you Yanks here celebrate moving to a new land, pretending to make friends with your neighbors, then eradicating the shit out of them?
Like the Goddamned Orkin Man only with smallpox blankets if my grasp on American history's still correct. And you celebrate by stuffing yourselves disgustingly, watching people in better shape than you can ever hope to be play 'sports' involving balls but somehow, not your feet, and running the Hell out to the shops to purchase more and more, the day after you celebrate being content with all the crazy shit that you already have?
Yeah, that makes sense. '
Had to do a piece this week about places actually serving the 'traditional' meal in Paris and I was cringing at the end of it, when I thought about everything that goes into the day, so...thought I'd go ahead and share my thoughts a little, air my awful side a bit because I can.