"The day is near when we don ' have more than the tax on the bones " [ Michel Audiard ]
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
The North Face Denali Breast Cancer Jacket
MICHEL AUDIARD
"The day is near when we don ' have more than the tax on the bones "
"The day is near when we don ' have more than the tax on the bones " 
Monday, May 10, 2010
Can A Temporary Ca Id Be Used At The Bars
This is the end, beautiful friend...
You see, he really had to go to hell. I had so to speak, homesick. But first, by way of explanation, the onion.
I have a friend who owns a restaurant regarded as one of the best Italian restaurants in the capital. This moves or I take my lunch invoking the name cucina toscana , evoking the theme park that is fully Americanized Florence, where it would be hard today to find a vero fiorentino middle Herd compact summer tourists who bring Dante revenge.
Anyway, I'm sitting there and I can not help but see and hear what is happening around me, while fashionable men raise their glasses of wine, speaking of her dress, her body, her bouquet. My friend, the owner is not an idiot in business. He encourages them, pushes them into the farthest corner of their false expertise. The smile he wears is a reward for the blind and a blessing, recognition of their good taste and their scholarship.
I sit a while, staring onion placed before me. For this onion reveals better than any of the true nature of Italian creativity, better than the complete works of Machiavelli, the true nature of the Tuscan deceit.
It's not even an onion but half an onion, roasted and topped with a few grains of caviar. Its price is thirty five tickets. Knowing the price of an onion, and beluga caviar 100 euros for 30 grams surrounding this half-onion, including caviar must be worth about 5 Euros.
Transformed into a delicacy, rare and precious for my magician friend, he is in demand.
I contemplate my memory onion and beat the campaign, bringing me back to when my friend had not yet made this place a posh address. It was at that time a small canteen semi-private, a move popular by gentlemen of rather dark and silent type. I can see the type whose move was called to serve one of these guys half an onion as if it were a treasure, asking him not only to pay, but pay twenty sacks. It would have been his death warrant. Because these clients were men full of discernment. Fortunately for him, this generation is dying, giving way to neo- cafone today.
But getting back to what Kant called the thing still elusive. This has something to do with the onion cut in half, yes, but also with the dress, body and bouquet of the wine.
We live in a time of pseudo-knowledge, by which we strive vainly to distinguish ourselves from the surrounding mediocrity. sit around a bottle of grape juice and rancid evoke delicate aromas of currant, smoke, oak, truffle, or any other graceful ineptitude believed to discover the taste of that sour wine, is to be a cafone chip. For if there is a delicate flavor to find in any wine, it is likely that pesticides and fertilizers. Here's what one expert said in a Chateau Margaux, 1978: "Airy for an hour, this wine reveals sweet perfume of cassis, chocolate, violets, tobacco and vanilla. Wait another ten years and this wine could lead to the mixture characteristic of Margaux classic cassis, black truffles, violets and vanilla. "As if all this were not absurd enough, there are" hidden in a peppery blackcurrant.
How sophisticated can a nose as it does not detect cow dung with which the owners of the Bordeaux wine if deemed fertilize them? A true connoisseur of wine, if such a thing could exist, primarily recognize the taste of pesticides and Fertilizer: it would not be "wine taster" but rather "Taster of shit". The only knowledge about wine is that people who know the true soul wine is vinegar. That drinking one gulp of those rare vinegars labeled a great age da bere that one tastes really wonders: the real thing to miles away from the juice of hogwash industrial coated epithets pretentious. It used to drink and unprimed noble peasants and nobles without primer. Farmers more noble and competent than these assholes stuffed with money they conned into believing that the wine reviews that call "good", "bad" or "shut up and take a drink"
Ah yes, the thing still elusive.
I'm sitting there, I remember the good old days, I remember the taste of vinegar, I remember a thousand other things, and I remember the taste of the rarest of all: taste the breath of the illimitable.
I say shit to this world where the cost onions thirty-five biftons, and those who eat them. I say this world of shit rednecks supposedly sophisticated unable to recognize the finer things in life, a sip of vinegar or the first tints of autumn on a tree, and a fortiori , appreciate, these rednecks who have made great cities mall for all, and want more.
I was born to smoking opium. or more precisely, I was born to smoke opium in an opium den.
At this point, I think you guessed that I am not the author of these lines, although I identify completely with them. The first is that the manager will receive a cd.
This text is supposed to explain why the blog is ending (or is paused for an indefinite period), and say any more.
To conclude, a quotation from Dali offer good honey good mouth, good place at the right time . Thank you to all those who followed and commented on during those three years.
Cheers! 
You see, he really had to go to hell. I had so to speak, homesick. But first, by way of explanation, the onion.
I have a friend who owns a restaurant regarded as one of the best Italian restaurants in the capital. This moves or I take my lunch invoking the name cucina toscana , evoking the theme park that is fully Americanized Florence, where it would be hard today to find a vero fiorentino middle Herd compact summer tourists who bring Dante revenge.
Anyway, I'm sitting there and I can not help but see and hear what is happening around me, while fashionable men raise their glasses of wine, speaking of her dress, her body, her bouquet. My friend, the owner is not an idiot in business. He encourages them, pushes them into the farthest corner of their false expertise. The smile he wears is a reward for the blind and a blessing, recognition of their good taste and their scholarship.
I sit a while, staring onion placed before me. For this onion reveals better than any of the true nature of Italian creativity, better than the complete works of Machiavelli, the true nature of the Tuscan deceit.
It's not even an onion but half an onion, roasted and topped with a few grains of caviar. Its price is thirty five tickets. Knowing the price of an onion, and beluga caviar 100 euros for 30 grams surrounding this half-onion, including caviar must be worth about 5 Euros.
Transformed into a delicacy, rare and precious for my magician friend, he is in demand.
I contemplate my memory onion and beat the campaign, bringing me back to when my friend had not yet made this place a posh address. It was at that time a small canteen semi-private, a move popular by gentlemen of rather dark and silent type. I can see the type whose move was called to serve one of these guys half an onion as if it were a treasure, asking him not only to pay, but pay twenty sacks. It would have been his death warrant. Because these clients were men full of discernment. Fortunately for him, this generation is dying, giving way to neo- cafone today.
But getting back to what Kant called the thing still elusive. This has something to do with the onion cut in half, yes, but also with the dress, body and bouquet of the wine.
We live in a time of pseudo-knowledge, by which we strive vainly to distinguish ourselves from the surrounding mediocrity. sit around a bottle of grape juice and rancid evoke delicate aromas of currant, smoke, oak, truffle, or any other graceful ineptitude believed to discover the taste of that sour wine, is to be a cafone chip. For if there is a delicate flavor to find in any wine, it is likely that pesticides and fertilizers. Here's what one expert said in a Chateau Margaux, 1978: "Airy for an hour, this wine reveals sweet perfume of cassis, chocolate, violets, tobacco and vanilla. Wait another ten years and this wine could lead to the mixture characteristic of Margaux classic cassis, black truffles, violets and vanilla. "As if all this were not absurd enough, there are" hidden in a peppery blackcurrant.
How sophisticated can a nose as it does not detect cow dung with which the owners of the Bordeaux wine if deemed fertilize them? A true connoisseur of wine, if such a thing could exist, primarily recognize the taste of pesticides and Fertilizer: it would not be "wine taster" but rather "Taster of shit". The only knowledge about wine is that people who know the true soul wine is vinegar. That drinking one gulp of those rare vinegars labeled a great age da bere that one tastes really wonders: the real thing to miles away from the juice of hogwash industrial coated epithets pretentious. It used to drink and unprimed noble peasants and nobles without primer. Farmers more noble and competent than these assholes stuffed with money they conned into believing that the wine reviews that call "good", "bad" or "shut up and take a drink"
Ah yes, the thing still elusive.
I'm sitting there, I remember the good old days, I remember the taste of vinegar, I remember a thousand other things, and I remember the taste of the rarest of all: taste the breath of the illimitable.
I say shit to this world where the cost onions thirty-five biftons, and those who eat them. I say this world of shit rednecks supposedly sophisticated unable to recognize the finer things in life, a sip of vinegar or the first tints of autumn on a tree, and a fortiori , appreciate, these rednecks who have made great cities mall for all, and want more.
I was born to smoking opium. or more precisely, I was born to smoke opium in an opium den.
At this point, I think you guessed that I am not the author of these lines, although I identify completely with them. The first is that the manager will receive a cd.
This text is supposed to explain why the blog is ending (or is paused for an indefinite period), and say any more.
To conclude, a quotation from Dali offer good honey good mouth, good place at the right time . Thank you to all those who followed and commented on during those three years.
Cheers!
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Pokemon Do You Think May Is Hot?
What is the design center? The
The Letter of the Drac Champagne Ardenne, on the occasion of the 20th edition of the festival, offered us an interview in which we describe our actions and it is here
To know our actions more accurately and discover the 2008 report is here
<... The skyscraper hearing and folding table, by Gregory Romanet
The Letter of the Drac Champagne Ardenne, on the occasion of the 20th edition of the festival, offered us an interview in which we describe our actions and it is here To know our actions more accurately and discover the 2008 report is here
<... The skyscraper hearing and folding table, by Gregory Romanet
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