sturtle [dot] com

Okay, Bryan, I understand you’re all into this and stuff–and that’s fine–but, yo, why ain’t that shit allowed in France? Frankly, it makes me a little nervous. I mean, take your average Frenchman off la rue, sit him down in front of a 72-hour Jerry Lewis/David Hasslehoff telethon with nothing but a bottle of Pernod and a carton of unfiltered Gitanes by his side, and he’ll come out just fine. They have developed a superior tolerance for pain and horrifying aesthetics. So when the French start whining about something, you know it’s really futup.