Our Man in Europe/dave delacroix/ "...Curse of ISIS."

Our Man in Europe/dave delacroix/ "...Curse of ISIS."


The DANG hot summer! And now it's late September; git to wear some threads, man! -get to SHOUT: Fashionista-baby!, get to divert: Get to divert.

My BUDS (Marc P.) in the UK pray for Sun! In Sicily? Gimmie da rain; least ways, solar respite. Here, "Saville Row" is extinct (Geeves & Hawkes are waiting tables?) and Madison Ave, NYC, tutte-fossilized as well it should...excepting that ONE creation: the Fedora.

On the Sicilian beach, salt water sun blisters turn to MUSH. High end Paramedics circle my fellow beach Lobsters like dying mosquito's - the last blood/the dying in effigy? - and buzz, hum, buzz: an Administration.

"Does it RAIN like this out at sea?" -asks my Beach-bikini-Babee, from our sandy beach promontory.
"Sure does, mi amore." I reply. "WORSE!"
"But no-one is there to witness!?" -she half protests, half hurrahs.
I'm glum: "Nope, Cheri. Ce pt da refugees, moms and kids, who - as we speak - float in insanitary inflatables, now washing up on GREEK and ITALIAN shores?"
"But they are MUSLIMS!" -insists my beloved. "Will they INTEGRATE quickly!? They won't!"
(I pause.) "And situation, reversed, would YOU?"
"But that's NO ANSWER!!!" -retorts the YIN to my YANG.
I reluctantly reply: "I know."

The DANG hot Summer! And now it's late September....



c 2015/davedelacroix/LORD BORGO Esq./Modica-Sicily.