It’s nice, rodeo bitumen

It seems that a documentary about children making zazous “is controversial ©”.

I have not seen it and I do not care, for some days I am like them.

It seems that a documentary about children making zazous “is controversial ©”. I have not seen it and I do not care, for some days I am like them.

It’s fine, the rodo bitumen

It’s super bad to take a step back. To stop for a moment and ask yourself, “but why are we doing this?”. To remember, for example, that we once traveled on this damn planet without the slightest bit of paper, and that it did not shock anyone. In the 19th century, it would not have occurred to any novice to ask me about my fafiots as there were none. Then I do not need more than today a cheat sheet to remember my name.

A long time ago, I was able to ride the 125cc version of one of the bikes, which is probably featured in the aforementioned documentary. Damn! It works, these bastards! Especially since it shoots super short, hoof obliges. I dare not even imagine what it gives in 500 cm3.

It does not surprise me that children have fun with such a thing! And why bother with a plate or a light when they still drive without a driver’s license and therefore without insurance on a wheel that comes from I-do-not-know-where? One has to be a little logical.

Here I should theoretically include a paragraph that assures that “I do not accept” this kind of thing, or some oratorical precaution that is intended to cleanse me with you, oh dear reader. Yes but no.

These kids can do whatever they want, I do not care. If it makes the bourgeoisie whine and makes it possible to charge more for advertising sites during moldy TV “debates” between media people, then all the better.

Instead, I want to loop instead La Tierra del Olvido by Carlos Vives in his ‘Playing for Change’ version, thanks Toto la Momposina for all his work. Because it puts me in a good mood, as opposed to media nods and controversies in set form (glue is provided upon presentation of a medical certificate). Also, I’m lucky not to speak Spanish, which saves me from the often gnian-gnian lyrics of Latin music.

Nevertheless, the anarcho-anarchist who sleeps with only one eye under my scalp is not far from approving of these children who send various conventions upside down.

“Ah yes, but gna-gna-gna if there is a kid crossing gna-gna-gna …”.

Start, you, by stopping drinking alcohol, you will come back later to teach in a good manner in the community.

“Ah yes, but gna-gna-gna no license no insurance gna-gna-gna”.

Do you want to stop licking the rods in your cage, please? It’s getting awkward here. Especially in public.

“Ah yes, but gna-gna-gna stolen motorcycle more respect lawless zone gna-gna-gna”.

Do you really want us to talk about the land illegally occupied by private companies, confiscation of public property by a gang of crooks who get laws cut to size by crooked parliamentarians, Seveso areas camouflaged under kindergartens …

Come on … come on … KPOK … Give Carlos Vives a shot … it’s getting better after, you see …

I am so much the less sensitive to this polemic about biting me as I like them from time to time: open wide and get full of speed. I’m less me-have-you-seen, and I’m more afraid of the police, so I do it on deserted roads rather than boulevards.

I do not assume, so I hide to exploit my engine, completely outside the bounds of the Highway Code.

Like you, I think. Nothing? How much were you before you grabbed the brakes in your little personal rodeo bitumen on the department road?

“Ah yes, but me gna-gna-gna it is not the same gna-gna-gna”.

Yes, yes, that’s it.

Start by sweeping in front of your door.

More info about chronicles

Watch out for Cronik! 100% ond tro! This is neither an article nor a news item (see possibly history). Chronic abuse can be dangerous for some people’s health. Do not abuse.

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