Archives mensuelles : novembre 2025

Des étoiles et des slips

Salut les Juchréman(e)s ! Allez aujourd’hui on cause la Phronce ! Ce qui nous amène à évoquer le dernier succès diplomatico guerrier de Morveux 75. Et vas-y que je te fourgue mes 100 Rafales spécialement conçus et imaginés pour tuer un max de bipèdes à poil ras (« que des méçants bien sûr ! passque nous on est les zentils, surtout toi, Volod, sauf que gaffe quand même à tes potes détourneurs de budzet de la défense, un minimum de discrétion nous irait bien si on veut pas se faire moquer ») contre un document historique authentifiant de « possibles contrats potentiels à venir entre toi, Volod, ex-zoueur de piano avec ta bite et Moi, Morveux 75, monarque déçu et bientôt déchu ( t’as vu Brizitte, z’ai pas zozotté pourtant ç’était dur à dire) ».

Sûr que confronté à pareille alliance, Vlad-le-Tordu il doit se sentir minuscule devant son glass de vodka sans alcool (sinon ça fait fondre le botox de ses joues d’adolescent). Sûr que son allié Ski Jumping, qu’il a déjà du mal avec les effets secondaires de ses pilules anti-âge, son slip rouge étoilé, il doit pas sentir la rose de Shangaï tous les jours.

À propos d’étoiles, je sais pas si c’est une coïncidence mais ces temps-ci, y a plus beaucoup de drapeaux qui leur échappent, aux étoiles. Y’en a partout des étoiles sur leurs peaudras, aux nenfants de la patrie ! Sous quelque latitude qu’elle les ait pondus, leur pauvre maman réfugiée au fond de la cabane sans électricité ni tout-à-l’égout que son mari lui a laissée en dépôt-vente avant de se tirer avec la fille transgenre de la voisine, leur maman qui se demande comment elle a pu enfanter des névropathes commaces, toujours à comparer leur zigounettes à 1 euro et se foutre sur la gueule pour un yes ou un niet. Ça fait regretter les bibliques souffrances de l’accouchement, moi je vous le dis, avec toutes mes excuses au Créateur du Prêt à Intérêt.

Et à propos de Créateur, les ventes d’Homo juchrémanensis* stagnent un peu ces temps-ci, faudrait faire un effort pour lâcher vos 2,69€, les Juchréman(e)s, si vous voulez continuer à lire des contenus aussi passionnants. S’agit de votre préhistoire, tout de même ! Vos cavernes ! Vos chez-vous qui sentent si bon vos pieds, l’andouillette grillée et la poule au pot tous les dimanches ! Si bon vos slips! Vos étoiles…

 

*Homo juchrémanensis ( EpubKindle)…ou son édition en langue anglaise Homo juchremanensis ( KindleEpub)

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The grave is plain and simple. The natural stone slab is beginning to take on a patina, with greening at the corners. In the center of the rectangular headstone erected perpendicular to the slab, a name is engraved in capital letters: “PALMER”. At the very bottom of the headstone, in smaller letters, on the left reads: “Orpah 1967 – 2010” and on the right: “Jethro 1929 – 2012”. Head bowed, eyes closed, fingers intertwined at stomach level, Ohad recites a short prayer in an almost inaudible voice, of which B., standing slightly back, can only grasp the conclusion. “He’s not here; he’s risen, just as he said he would ”. Then he turns to the cop: “Are your parents still with you, Commissioner?”

“No, they ‘re not.” B.’s eyes linger on the inscriptions at the bottom of the stele.

“She was much younger than him, is that what you’re thinking?”

 

Read more? Download Commissioner B. goes south

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JOYEUX BIRTHDAY !!! (FR/EN)

À l’intention des petit(e)s nouv(elles)(eaux) sur franckyvonrichard.com

Ce site, dont c’est aujourd’hui l’anniversaire (+ quelques mois), existe depuis l’an de grâce 2007 (lire ici les détails de l’histoire). D’outil de promotion pour de superbes chansons/clips (kinopanorama), il est peu à peu devenu une sorte de miroir (ecce homo)  pas si déformant que ça d’un monde que les média nous déforment d’entrée de jeu et avec force complaisance. Autant vous dire que sur fyr, on a jamais eu la moindre confiance en la veulerie de journalistes plus ou moins illettrés qui, le plus souvent, ne font que prolonger la veulerie de politiciens plus que moins véreux, qui mangent avec appétit dans la gamelle que de méga escrocs de moins en moins nombreux car de plus en plus riches et voraces leur servent à la louche. De méga escrocs qui n’ont rien à péter de l’enfer qu’ils font vivre à 8 milliards de nano bipèdes à poil ras dont la plupart s’empressent de passer le message aux autres espèces. Et vas-y que je fonce chez le boucher pour ma dose de « protéines animales sinon c’est pas des protéines », chez le pharmacien pour mes médocs + ou – efficaces contre mon cancer, mais garantis à base de tortures scientifiquement infligées à toutes sortes de cobayes aussi incrédules qu’en parfaite santé. Dans le même désordre d’idées, « saison de chasse » oblige, le moindre truc qui court a intérêt à courir vite, le moindre truc qui vole, à voler en zigzag et encore, avec méfiance : à partir de la pause de 10 h, pousse-cafés et bières engloutis, les gros(se)s con(ne)s ne tirent plus qu’en zigzag. Autant vous dire que sur fyr le respect de la vie animale arrive en tête de gondole de toutes les considérations d’ordre philosophico éthico ontologique dignes d’être abordées.

Bon sinon, soyez pas surpris si sur fyr on donne de plus en plus dans le bilinguisme. D’une part, qu’on le veuille ou non l’anglais est la langue de l’avenir s’il en reste et d’autre part les bouquins de F.Y. Richard (moi) dont il m’arrive de faire la promo s’efforcent d’exister dans les deux cultures. Tiens pisqu’on en cause, je recommande chaudement l’intégralité des liens à découvrir dans la liste à votre droite en entrant sur le site.

JOYEUX BIRTHDAY donc et, vu qu’on est en plein dans les commémorations, n’oubliez surtout pas d’envoyer le terroriste tueurs de femmes et d’enfants Nétanyahou devant le tribunal international comme promis. Maintenant qu’il a obtenu la peine de mort pour les oiseaux dans son genre dans son pays de colons, ça pourrait donner des idées intéressantes à ses juges…

Bisous

 

For newcomers to franckyvonrichard.com

This site, which is celebrating its anniversary today  (a couple of months late), has been around since 2007 (read the details of its history here). From a promotional tool for superb songs/videos (kinopanorama)  that will take a few more decades still to be appreciated, it has gradually become a kind of mirror (ecce homo ), not so distorted, of a world that the media distort from the start and with great complacency. It must be said that at fyr, we have never shown the slightest confidence in the spinelessness of more or less illiterate journalists who, more often than not, merely prolong the spinelessness of more than a little crooked politicians, who eagerly eat from the trough that mega-crooks, fewer and fewer in number as they become increasingly voracious, serve them with a ladle. Mega-crooks who couldn’t care less about the hell they put 8 billion mini hairy bipeds through, most of whom are quick to pass the message on to other species. And so I rush to the butcher for my dose of “animal protein, otherwise it’s no protein at all,” to the pharmacist for my meds, which are more or less effective against my cancer but 100% guaranteed based on scientifically inflicted torture on all kinds of guinea pigs as incredulous as they are perfectly healthy. In the same vein, with “hunting season” in full swing, anything that runs had better run fast, anything that flies had better fly in zigzags and even then, with caution: from 10 a.m. onwards, after gulping down coffee and beer, the armed jerks only shoot in zigzags! Suffice it to say that at fyr, respect for animal life is at the forefront of all philosophical, ethical, and ontological considerations worthy of discussion.

Anyway, don’t be surprised if fyr becomes increasingly bilingual. On the one hand, whether we like it or not, English is the language of the future, if there is one, and on the other hand, the books by F.Y. Richard (me), which I sometimes promote, strive to exist in both cultures. Speaking of which, I highly recommend checking out all the links in the list on the right when entering the site.

JOYEUX BIRTHDAY then, and since we’re in the middle of commemorations, don’t forget to send the terrorist murderer of women and children Netanyahu to the international court where he belongs as promised. Now that he has obtained the death penalty for birds of his feather in his country of sick colonists, it could give his judges some interesting ideas…

xxx

Commissioner B.’s Christmas dream

Hey, Juchremans! Russia’s attacks on Ukraine are ramping up, Israel continues to “defend” itself by annexing the West Bank, under the tender although (ever so)slightly disapproving gaze of its genocide partner, itself closely monitored by the BMW team, world’s fossil fuel emissions rise and rise but, thank God, Kim Kardashian’s shapewear brand Skims have reached their all time best, hitting $5bn valuation!

Meanwhile, Commissioner B. has had a strange Christmas dream…

*     *     *

That Christmas morning, Commissioner B. had an excuse for feeling sluggish. Two, in fact. The first, purely metabolic, was the empty bottle of “Teeling Brabazon Bottling Series 1” sitting on the coffee table next to an empty glass. As a rule he didn’t drink much but, coming home last night, he needed to get rid of the smell of disinfectant and hospital medicine that Dr. Doux and… “Hot Lips” (see second excuse) had generously passed along to him in Edelman’s overheated office.

The second excuse was the relentless flashbacks of a mind-boggling Christmas dream. A dream inspired by one of his father’s favorite movies, a masterpiece of anti-army dark humor that he himself had discovered with gleeful delight years after its release: “M*A*S*H.” In his remake, the scene where O’Houlihan, the psycho-rigid nurse, ends up getting laid by major Frank Burns (“Frank! Kiss my burning lips!”) took place in the straw of a nativity scene! With him in the role of “Frank Melchior » and Janique Goulard as “Hot Lips.” “Gaspard” Edelman and “Balthazar” Doux didn’t miss a thing, the bastards! They even encouraged him to honor harder and harder the cheeky girl, whose cries of recognition filled the sacred stable.

However, at one point, he had had doubts about the real meaning of his partner’s increasingly loud display of emotion. “Hot Lips” was desperately waving an arm toward the baby Jesus, whose face was turning blue. The divine infant was choking! So much so that, sacrificing the promise of an orgasm she had been eagerly anticipating a second earlier, Janique “Hot Lips” Goulard had energetically pushed him away and rushed to the rescue of the Son of God. Grabbing Baby Jesus by the feet she had shaken Him vigorously, so that He would spit out the indigestible pacifier. That was when it had become obvious that the Sacred Baby was wearing soccer cleats…

 

Read more? Download Commissioner B. goes south

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Encounter of the weird kind

Who cares about Pochtrump, that bigoted BMW puppet of a dictator, and his war criminal buddies, when you can enjoy “Commissioner B. goes south,” chilling out quietly in slippers by the fire, after sweating all day on those motherfucking pyramids?

*     *     *

About a hundred yards down the road from the sign he spotted a small forest path on the right. Was it precognition? Sixth sense? Extreme caution in unfamiliar territory? He slowed down to a crawl. The next second, the reason for this irrational move emerged from the  path. At first, he thought it was a deer or a wild boar. Except that wild boars rarely run on their hind legs. He slammed on the brakes. As surprised as he was, the creature stopped dead in its tracks and stood there, hypnotized by the fog lights. If it wasn’t a boar, it sure had the fur. Long, shaggy hair and a thick beard covered the face that protruded from the thick canvas jacket, buttoned up to the collar.

Before the individual tried to shield them from the sudden light, B. had seen his eyes. They were filled with intense fear. The din coming on his tail made him turn around in panic. Returning to the hood of the car, he stretched out an arm as if to prevent it from starting up again and running him over. Half a second later he had crossed the road and disappeared into the woods on the other side.

Surprisingly for a cop, when forced to choose, Commissioner B.  tended to side with the hunted rather than the hunter.  He figured that by moving forward just a little, he would block the exit from the path…

Read more? Download Commissioner B. goes south

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