Bon Jour, le bitches, it is I, your professeur, Sac Poubelle, with some observations from the Bastille Farmers’ market, and your first French lesson.

But you say, “Mais mon ami, Sac, your French is, how you say, shit, how can you you teach us?”

You see, my little love piggies, I have been doing the writing for many years, and it is my experience that as soon as a person can string seven words together, they begin to teach creative writing, so how can French be different? Trés brilliant, no?

Commencé

First, let us look around the Market:

Even as they sell their wares, the vendors, especially the butchers, are harvesting “the crop” for the next market.

There are so many markets in Paris, that you need only shop for the day….

All around, people are arriving in their quaint and deadly cars:

And there are many places to eat around the Place Bastille:

There are many crafts and objects d’art as well as foods

And the square is dotted with pitchmen touting the latest gadget:

And customers who can’t wait to try their wares…

And vendors demonstrating the amazing effects of their products:

Now, let us look around the market and learn some useful fucking French words:

A Juggler and some fish, can you tell which is which?

Singers:

Fish:

A Dog:

The Dog is Bored

Now let’s look at some hats. See if you can guess what colors they are:

A good way to remember the word for yellow, is to think of your alcoholic uncle Eddie, who is “jaundiced”

A good way to remember the word for pink, is how rosey auntie Estelle’s cheeks were after you walked in on her in the bedroom while she was playing with her very special flashlight. In French, the word “rose”, is pronounced with several “d” sounds. Like this “rrrrdddoodddesdds”. Now you try it.

Ah, many hats. Could this be the plural word?

Remember “blanc” is white, by thinking of a blank page, and that blanche is feminine for white, by thinking of Blanche Dubois, from A Streetcar Named Desire, who was– yes, that’s right, a crazy white woman.

But what is this?

That’s right, mon petite chatons d’amor, “sans” means “no fucking hat” aux le Francais. You are so clever.

Now, let us combine some of what we have learned:

That’s right, a hat with fish. Did you feel tricked? Are you sore? Did you check for your wallet?

Let us review some colors, because I like this picture of flower pots.

I know that bleu was new to you, but here is an easy way to remember it: it’s friggin blue, pronounced bloo. Don’t be dense, chers, it is how you say? annoying. Ah, but I cannot stay angry with you.

Now, let us explore some more advanced concepts in French.
The concept of “into it”. Regard:

Can you tell which person is “into it”?

Let us try again. Can you tell which person is “totally into it”? :

If you guessed the American in the vest, you were right. The vest serves two purposes, to identify the American to pickpockets in the Metro, and to keep the thief busy checking all his pockets until he reaches his stop. It’s good manners to put a cigarette in each pocket for the thieves and beggars. Much the way you leave cookies and milk out for Santa at Christmas. This is a Christian tradition and is loved the world over. Muslims wearing similar vests, however, are often shunned on the Metro and sometimes hurt feelings result. Be a bon homme, or a mench, as they say in the Middle East: if you see them, smile and steal their shit. If they are in a burkha, it’s okay to feel around a little to see if they are wearing a vest. Just be sure to say “sil vous plait”, and “Allah Akbar”, as that is the polite thing to do, and in fact, is a good idea any time you’re feeling someone up on the Metro.

Let’s try it again. Can you tell who is into it? Very into it? And not into it all all?

If you guessed that the dick head wasn’t into it, you are absolutely correct. Perhaps he just doesn’t like juggling.

Now, mon amis, it’s smile time:

Plural?

Compare and contrast. Who is smiling?

Oh, very good, my dirty monkeys, very good. Trés bon! Now it is time for you to rest until next time. Now, put on your clothes and go home. Sac needs to smoke and, how you say, blaspheme le toute monde.

I leave you with a surprise:

Ha, not what you expected, no? That is why they call it a surprise. Save the towel, the olive oil, and the noose for next time, mon fluffy hamsters.

This is Sac Poubelle, saying, Bon Journee!