Ooo!

I LOVE that word! — étastiste.

Why? It’s French, therefor it stinks.

Well, Dolly. Don’t you think it’d get up the noses of the haughty Northeastern Liberal Establishment types who find France to be the wellspring of… well, themselves?

That don’t mean it dun’t stink.

OK, Dolly. You go on and be a kick-ass, all-American chick. We love you that way.

But I think that word is the berries.

A tip of the old beret to Flea.

(I wish my copy of Levin’s book would hurry up and get here already.)

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