video description, 2025-10-31
You ole pilaster of piaris. In the capital of France they just call it “Plaster of…” And then the Frenchie they’re talking to dies waiting for them to finish. Fortunately that particular Frenchie was gravely ill anyway, due to die at any moment. And by Frenchie I don’t mean French person. I mean someone in the midst of French-kissing the person who came to the intensive care ward to tell them about plaster of… Well, you know. I’d best not tell you because I’m not in the mood to catch your cooties from a sloppy tongue kiss. I mean, that’s why you’re in the intensive care ward in the first place. If only one day they might find a cure for cooties. The best way is to withhold money from the cootie charities unless they promise to hurry up and cure it right after they get the donation. It’s like offering someone a cookie, withdrawing it just as they make a grab, and saying, “Promise to be my best friend?” If you don’t believe this is how it works, just you try to catch polio. Go on. I’ll wait.
Not so easy, is it? And that’s because Polio Boy wanted a cookie and was willing to do anything to get it. Even cure the world of himself. And so now we have cooties instead, and one less cookie. Too bad, too. It was the cookie I was hoping to get. I’d hope to get another one instead but I don’t think there are any other ones. In fact that was the only one. The last one I needed to complete my collection… of one. I’m a completist, you know. Collect ‘em, trade ‘em, race ‘em. The cookie takes the checkered flag! And last place. And all the places in the middle.
Now that I have your ear, remember — cookie is just a single letter off cootie, so imagine what might happen if the alphabet truck crashes. We might have all kinds of French kiss diseases floating around. Everywhere except in France, where they just call it kissing.
¿Bésame mucho, eh? Bésame mucho, die Freundin.