BON JOUR MADEMOISELLE ET MONSIEUR AMERICANO!

Well, after four days in Paris, France, all I can say is…..  VIVE LA FRANCE! …..VIVA LAS VEGAS! ….. VIVA ZAPATA!    What a grand and beautiful city is Paris, “The City of Lights.”  (Not to be confused with Las Vegas, “The City of Fights.”)  I must say from “ze getgo”  (not an official French term) that Paris is incredibly beautiful, majestic, and truly a grand.  The buildings (especially the museums) are like none other in the world….. and this from a guy who grew up in New York.  Honestly, there is almost nothing on earth to rival some of the great museums in this city, and the Countess and I visited some of the best and most impressive, but you know the names, so I shall not bore you.

In my younger days, I thought that France would be a great place to visit if there were fewer French people there, but again, my views have changed.  Everyone was quite hospitable and charming, and we did not encounter a single act of rudeness.  (Except for that one guard in front of the Mona Lisa……  How did I know you weren’t supposed to trace over the painting?)  Anyway, the good news is this:  the French have changed!  They are more like the English.  (Who bear a vague resemblance to us.)

How could anyone find fault with a country that gave us French toast, French fries, and French kissing?  (By the way, I tried the kissing thing on the hotel elevator and got slapped for my trouble!  The maid did not appreciate my “tongue in cheek” attitude. (So much joie de vivre!)

Lady Spendthrift – who has now been renamed Le Countess de Currency – got off to a bit of a rocky start by referring to the most famous landmark in the city as “The Awful Tower.”  (I straightened things out by telling the locals that she posed for one of the gargoyles on the church of Notre Dame.)  I think the “Frenchies” believed me.  (They are so “Gaulible.”)

I intended to read a passage or deux of THE PRESLEY PLOT at the Louvre, but there were too many gendarmes guarding the place and they did not look like Elvis fans to me.  (Who the hell is Edith Piaf?)  I think she may have been a gourmet chef, because I once saw a dish called Rice Piaf on a menu.  In any case, I did not do a public reading, but I have spread the word about the book around the city.  I hope the good citizens of Paris will buy a few copies, and I think they will like the story.  After all these folks think Jerry Lewis is funny!  (Let’s just hope they don’t think my writing is crepe!)

For those of you who are keeping track of my whereabouts (friends, family, the I.R.S., burglars, etc.)  I happen to be aboard a luxury river barge called the River Royale.  We are presently docked at a charming village in the south of France.  (A place called Chalon sur Saone…… which loosely interpreted means “the town of many missing Euros.”)  Tomorrow we are off with our dear friends, Barbara and Max Talbott (who are celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary today!) for a tour Chateau de Pommard in Burgundy.  If I don’t get locked in a wine cellar, I will give you an update on my international tour to promote (or destroy) Franco-American repartee!

Until then, mon ami, remember to pursue joie de vivre!

And now I must say Adieu!  (And Adieu have to go to dinner!)

Monsieur Stephan Yanoff, The Count of Mushy Crisco!