SOB sent the last of the pictures of POB’s and my honeymoon.  (You remember, the one she and HOSOB took for us, because it was the least they could do to celebrate our wedding.)

Mais, revenons à notre voyage de noces en France.

1. Police demonstration about safety and what a crashed car looks like. This was in front of the Opera. SOB noted that MOB would have enjoyed it and been proud of the public service message.  MOB would have taken a picture of it.  So if MOB had been alive, SOB would have taken a picture of MOB’s taking a picture of this scene.  And, thus, SOB needed to take this picture.  Genes, they cannot be denied their expression.  It is almost mathematical in that quod erat demonstrandum type of way.  The origins of whatever “osis” I have (as in neurosis, psychosis, etc.) is becoming clearer. . . .

2. French people waiting in line at what has a remarkable resemblance to anyone of those gross food trucks roaming New York City, except that they are chic people waiting to eat their croissants.  Chacun à son goût, mais: a roach coach is a roach coach is a roach coach (with apologies — maybe not — to Nazi collaborator Gertrude Stein)

What an awesome honeymoon.  Thanks, SOB and HOSOB.  We couldn’t have had it without you . . . .