HEy KatE!

Lyrics & ParolEs dE/By SAGREiss

LEs Vans, lE 1Er juin 2013, dE 8h22 À 23h30

But for this time it ill ordained was,

To chose the longest day in all the yeare,

And shortest night, when longest fitter weare:

Yet never day so long, but late would passe.

Ring ye the bels, to make it weare away,

And bonefiers make all day,

And daunce about them, and about them sing:

That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.

Edmund Spenser, Epithalamion (1595)

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These novels will give way, by and by, to diaries or autobiographies—captivating books, if only a man knew how to choose among what he calls his experiences that which is really his experience, and how to record truth truly.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, as quoted by HEnry MillEr

WarrEn BEatty, REds (1981)

This then? This is not a book. This is libel, slander, defamation of character. This is not a book, in the ordinary sense of the word. No, this is a prolonged insult, a gob of spit in the face of Art, a kick in the pants to God, Man, Destiny, Time, Love, Beauty … what you will. I am going to sing for you, a little off key perhaps, but I will sing. I will sing while you croak, I will dance over your dirty corpse….

To sing you must first open your mouth. You must have a pair of lungs, and a little knowledge of music. It is not necessary to have an accordion, or a guitar. The essential thing is to want to sing. This then is a song. I am singing.

HEnry MillEr, Tropic of Cancer (1934)

Rose & SAGReiss

De: SAGReiss

Date: 1 juin 2013

Objet: Re: Sonia et al.

Mme Uccellatore aimerait bien que je me retrouve en prison, ce qui arriverait tout de suite si je parle a ma fille Rose. C'est ca ton plan?

At 17:51 1-06-13, you wrote:

Catherine Uccelatore me demande si tu aimerais entendre ou parler avec Rose.

"Rose est très en colère contre son père. Il faudrait qu'il lui demande pardon. Il lui a fait beaucoup de mal et continue par son comportement."


Rose &
Pierre, Rose & SAGReiss
Pierre, Rose & SAGReiss

When I sing Hey Kate! who is singing, Jimi Hendrix? When Rose asks: λεμα σαβαχθανι, who is speaking, Jesus?

From: SAGReiss

Date: 2 June 2013

Subject: Re:


I'm sorry I got ugly & vulgar, but you choose the weapon, the telephone which is the arm of liars & lawyers and of which I have a pathological hatred related to my childhood experiences WITH YOU, and the time, the evening which is not a good time to pick a fight with me, and then you're surprised that I don't react as well as I might have to an e-mail in the morning? And then you hang up on me? So why did you ask me to call, for the pure & delightful pleasure of a fight? What I was saying is that you lied. When Rose refused to sleep alone, which I told you I had planned to encourage with the move to the new house next door in March 2009 (because I remember fucking everything and write e-mail instead of wasting my time & others' on the phone, where information disappears as soon as it evaporates), because we hardly ever saw one another, you did not "beg" me to change that situation, which we both knew was potentially problematic. You said, and this is an exact quotation because I am a man, a father, thus not a liar nor someone who forgets: "Rose will sleep alone when she's twenty-one." I think you were probably wrong, she may well sleep with someone, but not me. The Prosecutor's arraignment & the Judges indictment make no fucking mention of this silly & absolutely irrelevant fact of life, that everyone understands except you, for you have no education, and thus can't read French, which is why I took care of your case for you, which I was happy to do, until I pissed off Noemie, who naturally waited to become pissed off until she no longer needed my help, which she continues to ask for on occasion and of course receives, even when she doesn't ask for it. We are all working together, mother, in parallel. This is not the lock-step fucking Stalinism that you wish for, but it is working, and none of the moderates ideas ever did. Pierre is a fucking idiot, as well as being a nice guy, a very good driver, a very good father (I'm guessing), a diplomat & a policitican. He is interested in his political viability, and has openly (and in front of me, I must say, in his defense) questioned whether the movement would not be better off without me, decision which I can accept. I told the lying, fascist pigs that I was happy to cancel the Fathers' Concert & spend four days of tourism with my father, even though neither of us likes that shit.

Pierre, please get the fuck out of my life, forever. Please don't call my mother. Please don't call my wife. Please don't answer their calls. Please never speak to my daughter, and do whatever the fuck you like. I am sharing my point of view with you, not giving you orders or stabbing you in the back, as you have just done to me. I don't need new problems, and you have just created at least one for me. Thank you, now go the fuck away. Because I like Olivier Gourson & Miguel, I will wait until I am sober, which none of you apparently are capable of doing, although this extremely predictable event occurs every morning like the sunrise, although I am far from drunk, which was not quite true yesterday, as you might have noticed, but there's no doubt whatsoever that I was far from being the most drunken fool in Les Vans last night, which is why we have a new work of art today that none of you ignorant, Philistine fucks can understand, to decide whether I close, not my site of course, which is immor(t)al, but the Concert des Peres & ma participation a la Marche des Peres. Mefie-toi, Pierre, je suis aussi mauvais que ma femme.

Scott, father of Rose, son of the wind

HEy KatE!

“Hey Kate, where you going with that gun in your hand?”

“I’m going down to shoot my ex-husband.

You know I caught him messing around with another girl,

And that ain’t too cool.”

“Hey Kate, I heard you shot your husband down, shot him down to the ground.”

“Yes I did, I shot him.

You know I caught my husband messing around town.

And I gave him the gun. I shot him!”

“Hey Kate, where you running with that blood on your hands?”

“I’m going way down south,

Way down to Ardony, way down where I can be free.

Ain’t no one going to find me.

Ain’t no hangman going to put a rope around me. You better believe it.

I’ve got to go now.”

“Hey, Kate, you better run on down.”

“Goodbye everybody!”

De: SAGReiss

Date: 2 juin 2013

Subject: Sexplications

It's nothing but the sound & the fury, du telephonage des personnes qui ne savent ecire. Je gere. Je vous tiens au courant par courtoisie, un art & une science qui sied bien a un homme de mon age, quarante-neuf & bientot la cinquantaine, et que je pratique par consequant tous les jours, meme hier, ou j'etais legerement hors portee. J'ai fini au lavoir, superbement rennove par notre cher & fort brave Maire Bruno, que tout le monde connait bien, y compris Rose & sa grandmere, mais qui refuse, en tant qu'homme politique doue de pouvoirs assez vastes, de nous aider, malgre les promesses qu'il a faites a ma mere, a cinquante metres de chez moi a encore un concert, ou j'etais en train de me battre avec mon appareil photo, sans y arriver du tout, et tout a coup une belle jeune femme m'a demande a danser. Bien entendu, j'ai vite fait de ranger mon appariel dans mon sac banane (Qu'il n'y ait pas des idees deplacees, s'il vous plait. Honnis soit qui mal y pense.) et l'on a danse, l'on y danse. Puis, au moment tres exactement critique, j'ai dit a la belle dame sans merci (John Keats, you fucking ignorant cunts): "Ecoute, c'est bien beau tout ca, mais j'ai rendez-vous avec une dame verte, donc si tu veux continuer notre plaisir & amitie mutuels, tu peux monter chez moi boire un verre de Chartreuse" "Bien entendu, et j'amene mon mec avec moi." "Mais, bien entendu." Donc on est monte, on a bu une Chartreuse, ou deux, je ne m'ensouviens plus, ils ont renverse quelque chose, et ils en avaient honte, mais j'ai dit: "Qu'importe? Ca se lave." Je sais que la journee a dure tres precisement depuis 8h22 a 23h30 parce que je ne suis pas un con de Francais, donc je commnunique par mail, et j'ai ecrit a mon ami Julien Uccellatore a l'heure matinale et a ce con de Francais de Pierre Besson a l'heure nocturne. Je craignais toute la journee la bagarre & la garde a vue consequant, mais je fais face a mes peurs & rien de grave ne s'est passe, pour autant que je sache: "Live to fight another fucking day."

I love Catherine Uccellatore, Rose, April & Moshe and Athene Reiss, Nicolas Moreno & sa mere Brigitte Volmat, Laurent pere de Laititia, Olivier Gourson, Jean-Louis Miguel, et meme ce con de Pierre Besson, et si jamais Monsieur le Procureur de la Republique de l'Ardon trouve que ces passioneuses amours violent une personne ou les Lois de son cher departement, je l'emmerde personnellement & professionnellement en cas de besoin. Tout le monde a compris?

Merci de votre comprehension, car vous n'avez pas beaucoup de choix a part comprendre.

Scott, pere de Rose, fils de Monsieur Moreno pere

At 21:44 2-06-13, Nicolas Moréno wrote:

Ben on dirait qu'il t'a fallu du temps pour atterrir l'ami Scott Alexander !

Que cest-il donc passé ?

Was is dass ?...

What it is ?

Date: Sun, 2 Jun 2013 20:57:12 +0200

From: sagreiss@gmail.com

Subject: Fwd: Re:

Ils sont sympas, les mecs de la Grue Jaune. Ils foutent encore plus le bordel dans nos familles qu'on n'en avait auparavant. Va te faire enculer, Pierre Besson, et tout de suite.

RobErt Altman, M*A*S*H (1970)

From: SAGReiss

Date: 3 June 2013

Subject: Le Scandale & le Suicide

Ok, mother, let me try to help you understand what you are asking for, because it's exactly what C the G is asking for, my head on a silver platter, but because I know that all of you are a little thick, I'll try to make this more clear, my death from suicidal jumping. Need more precision than that? OK, if you & your asshole friend Pierre, who is a fruitfly compared to a man like Nicolas Moreno, but it's true that I hate intellectuals because they remind me of myself, manage to convince me to down my site, the next day I'll walk upstairs to Rose's room, say goodbye, and jump right the fuck out the window on my head, which will smash down upon the cobblestones causing severe contusions & hemorrhages. It won't be very painful, no more than Patrick's insulin shot was, whoever administered it to him, since I'll be drunk at the time, but it's still an irrevocable decision to make, this decision that YOU are helping Catherine to push me to. So who's confused here? Who's not understanding what the stakes of my online poker game with my wife are? C the G understands. Do you? I'm not going to kill myself today, although I have thought about it every day for 987 days of agony. I'm hanging the laundry out to dry in the sun & going to go to the river with my friend Mike, who is also a man, although of the English persuasion, and get drunk watching him work in the vineyard. We're having a pick nick. You're invited, but only if you stop fucking nagging me literally to death, and I repeat, that is what we're playing for, my life, and you've just lost today, for I am alive. Please try again tomorrow. Maybe you'll have more luck.

From: SAGReiss

Date: 3 June 2013

Subject: Fwd: Le Scandale & le Suicide

The musical version is, of course, already upon my site, the only reason I have left to live for, so let's just take that one joy away from him, shall we? Let's see what fucking color this prick's blood is when it flows upon the cobblestones in the south of the south of France, is that what you'd like? Well, fuck you, for I choose to live, free, with songs & foul language & naked pics & whatever the fuck else I can still manage to do, if you don't take away the only reason I have to get up in the morning. How are you going to feel, mother, when not only do you lose your granddaughter, whom we've already lost, but also your son? You think that will make you feel better. Keep pushing me, bitch. I can push back.

Luc BEsson, LE Grand BlEu (1988)

From: SAGReiss

Date: 3 June 2013

Subject: Re: Le Scandale & le Suicide

And I think you're a fucking cunt, my friend Peter. I am not making threats to the Prosecutor, nor to my mother, nor to anyone else. Yesterday with Mike I planned to hang up my laundry in order to save money and feel more like a human being participating in the word & its sunshine, but after being verbally assaulted by my own fucking mother, I was too afraid of the fucking window to go anywhere near it, so I dried my clothes at the laundry mat. Maybe, if you all leave me the fuck alone, I will conquer the will & the courage to hang up the laundry next Monday. I have just blocked you, Pierre, on Facebook. Please stop sending me e-mail. Please respect my wishes. Go the fuck away forever.

From: SAGReiss

Date: 3 June 2013

Subject: Fwd: Re: Le Scandale & le Suicide

And, you arrogant prick, you do indeed NOT speak for everyone, nor anyone, possibly not even yourself, if my friend Freud(e) is to be believed, as I am inclined to do so, & least of all for my beloved daughter Rose. Who the fuck do you think you are, now, the Juge des Enfants? You also do not speak for my father, who, I'm guessing, is trying furiously as we speak to get my mother, his beloved ex-wife, if you're having trouble following our convoluted saga, to shut the fuck up. As he has said, even shouted, many fucking times: "April, she's not your fucking daughter. Scott will bring her up however he wants, the best he can. Shut up & let him work."

Festival de la Musique & de la Danse

From: SAGReiss

Date: 3 June 2013

Subject: Hegel et al.

Another huge victory, which will cost me dearly in court, but I don't give a fuck. I can take a Pyrrhic victory from time to time. It's a lot fucking better than a Pyrrhic defeat. Rose's psychiatrist, well Catherine's psychiatrist actually, since she's the one who is actually ill, has just agreed to cease & desist from treating my daughter. In fact, she has gone so far as to admit, tacitly but clearly enough, after reading the twenty pages of madness, police complaints, violent antisemitism (and her name is Myriam) that I sent her, that in fact she was just plain wrong all along, for if Rose were really sick, her psychiatrist would have an obligation to treat her, despite my quite vociferous objections. And you cunts think I'm not doing this right? I began to win at ten o'clock on 29 November, the day I met Nicolas Moreno, the only man who has ever been able to help me, well that's not true, since all of you, my beloved loved ones, men, women & possibly a beast or two that may have inadvertantly infiltrated my mailing list, have helped me tremendously, for which I am forever grateful & absolutely ready to repay at the drop of a hat, anytime, anywhere. Don't tell me what to do, just tell me where to go. Don't even tell me when. The cops may be listening. I'll figure the rest out by my lonesome. However, I am not spamming to talk about my petty problems that I am well on the way to resolving. I come to talk of bigger shit, Hegel by name, lots of Christian names that are hard to spell. My friend GWF wrote some of the most insane, unreadable, incomprehensible German gibberish ever written, but he answered the question that my friend Freud(e) couldn't. He knew what women want, only he thought in his delerium tremens that it was all men, meaning men & women, although this is a little clearer in German & ancient Greek, which I could also read when I was fifteen years old, AND YOU IDIOTS COULDN"T. My father gave me that, and I thank him, and he also gave me Hebrew, and I thank him for that too, although it took us a long time, both of us, for that transaction to take place. It's not a fucking footrace. We're learning here. I have another ten years of life, and a man's intellectual peak is fifty, RIGHT FUCKING NOW, motherfuckers. I was planning to spam you with a huge, one-sentence paragraph of Hegel's peculiar brand of madness, with sz & alles, but I won't even bother. Let's simplify matters, since Alex Kojeve understood Hegel, and thus did my friend Jaques-Marie Lacan. It basically comes down to one phrase: "Le desir de la femme, c'est le desire de l'autre." This is to say that my mother, being jealous because she can't write or sing, wants to destroy my writing & singing, which is why several friends of mine have the password to my site, but my mother does not, for she would go all Mme Balzac on me & destroy it upon my death, or even in a preemptive strike, which is obviously so wrong that Mrs Balzac should have been shot. (She burnt her husband's voluminous letters to his myriad mistresses.) She doesn't want anything for herself. She wants other people to want what she wants. The problem is that we do not. Mrs Uccellatore feels exactly the same way about my art. She is as tone-fucking-deaf as my father, but at least my father loves music & loves to sing. It's fascinating to hear him sing, and you may have that unique pleasure, if you don't piss me off so much that I cancel the Concert des Peres, for he joyfully sings songs of absolutely random notes. It's madness. My mother is a perfect Hegelian woman, the problem being that Plato begat Hegel, who begat Marx, who begat Stalin. I'll try again. Plato, a writer of immense charm & beauty who cannot be understood in any language other than ancient Greek, also begat Hegel, who begat Heidigger, who begat Hitler. Yes, Plato (Read the fucking Laws, or even the Republic, you ignorant cunts.) was the archetypical fascist. It's all his fucking fault, and all of ours. God save us. God bless Rose

Scott, father of Rose, son of God

De: SAGReiss

Date: 3 juin 2013

Objet: Lettre du psychiatre de Rose

Maitres Mouchi, Ble & Houchet,

Ma mere mande & ordonne (ci-dessous) que je vous transmette ce document, et elle est pressee comme un citron, donc j'execute tout de suite & plus vite que ca. Le commentaire (ci-dessous) est en anglais, mais vous vous debrouillerez, j'en suis certain. Je vous envoie un scan demain depuis mon boulot (Je transmets avec toutes les fautes d'orthographe, bien entendu, mais sans les accents, car je n'ai pas encore rencontre le medecin, juge, flic, ou avocat capable d'ecrire avec moins de dix fautes par page, et moi je travaille pour onze euros de l'heure?):


par votre courrier que j'ai recu le 27 Mai, vous me faites part de votre opposition aux soins [sic] que j'apporte a votre fille Rose.

Vous avez l'autorite parentale conjointe avec votre ex epouse [sic] sur votre fille Rose.

Actuellement, je ne peux pas legalement continuer a recevoir votre fille en consultation si vous vous y opposez [& je m'y oppose farouchement].

Je suis desolee de devoir interrompre ce suivi pour votre fille qui, je pense [Elle pense? Ce n'est apparemment pas ce qu'elle fait de mieux.] a besoin de soins et a noue une relation psychotherapeutique [& pecuniere] de qualite. [Et pour quelle maladie on la soigne, puisqu'elle n'est pas malade? En revnache, sa mere l'est, & on ne la soigne pas.]

Je vous prie de recevoir l'expression de mes salutations distinguees.

Docteur Myriam POMMEL"


No problem, my beloved mother. I shall do so immediately. It's never too late. The court may not share my interpretation of this letter, but there's no harm in trying.

On Mon, Jun 3, 2013 at 4:36 PM, APRIL REISS <april_d_reiss@sbcglobal.net> wrote:

scott maybe it is not too late to have this acquitted in my case

can you send Noemi a document with this change in the psychiiatrist position

it is an important part of my case that is against me

Catherine saying rose is scared of me

(no subject)


May 23 (11 days ago)

Dr Pommel, Dr Sautel,

Je vous ecris, une fois, poliment, pour vous demander d'arreter le soutien que vous apportez a Mme Uccellatore, mere de Rose, dans sa maltraitance de ma fille. Priere de voir les ci-jointes plaintes pour violences a caractere raciste sur ma personne, avec le document de support qui demontre le virulent antisemitisme de la mere de Rose, nee d'un pere juif, et la plainte pour diffamation, qui cite ce bijoux de fantasme oedipien, qui est physiquement impossible, etant donne qu'un examen gynecologique a permis de constater que ma fille est vierge: "Catherine Uccellatore: Son père se masturbait et caressait l’intérieur du sexe de Rose, avec ses doigts, avec son sexe d’homme de presque 50 ans. Rose aimait ça, du haut de ses 4 ans." Si vous avez besoin de plus de details, veuillez consulter cette page:

http://sagrEiss.org/hEavEn.htm et tout mon site de facon general.

Plus personne, a part vous deux, ne croie plus rien a ce que raconte Mme Uccellatore, si toutefois vous y avez une fois cru. Vous etes peut-etre simplement venaux, ou Mme Uccellatore vous indemnise peut-etre a l'aide ses charmes considerables. Peu importe. Rose n'a jamais ete molestee. Vous arretez le maltraitement de ma fille, maintenant, ou on va se revoir devant l'Ordre des Medecins. C'est fini.

Merci de votre cooperation.

Scott, pere de Rose

From: SAGReiss

Date: 3 June 2013

Subject: The Fear

Mother, Rose is not scared of anyone, like her father.

De: SAGReiss

Date: 4 juin 2013

Objet: Maltraitance & Malpractice

Dr Pommel, Dr Sautel,

Merci de votre courriEr (ci-joint). Mme Uccellatore, la mere de Rose a deja repondu (ci-joint), le probleme etant, non pas sa credibilite, bien sur, mais le fait qu'elle ne comprend meme pas la distinction entre un mensonge & la verite, donc je n'ai aucun moyen de savoir si ma fille a effectivement pleure hier, et si oui pourquoi. Je n'ai aucune information sur ma fille, pas une photo, rien, aucune communication par l'ecole, ou le strict mimimum absolument legal, en retard, et seulement quand j'y insiste lourdement.

Catherine Uccellatore

Vous ne m'avez pas bien compris, Dr Pommel, car je ne vous ai aucunement defendue de soigner ma fille. Je vous defends de la soigner pour la maladie qu'elle n'a pas, a savoir un pere incestueux. Si vous estimez pouvoir la soigner, et a travers elle, sa mere surtout, pour la maladie qu'elle a, a savoir une mere qui abuse des antidepresseurs & de l'alcool, et surtout qui est obsedee par l'inceste, a tel point qu'elle en accuse tout le monde.

Si vous me confirmez par ecrit que telle est votre intention, je suis d'accord avec le nouveau traitement, meme si je reste tres sceptique quant a l'efficacite de votre metier de facon general. Tout le monde se trompe. C'est pas une honte. Mme Uccellatore a deja dupe bien du monde, par deux fois.

Ma fille est helas tres isolee chez sa mere, car celle-ci l'isole de toute sa famille paternelle, et de presque toute sa famille maternelle aussi. Mme Uccellatore a contacte tous les parents des amis de Rose aux Vans pour les convraincre a ne pas recevoir Rose & sa grandmere, avant qu'elle n'annulle purement & simplement ces visites de facon tres illegale. La fausse accusation inquiete tout le monde, et toutes les institutions gouvernant l'enfance, scolaires, sociales, medicales & juridiques aident activement Mme Uccellatore dans cette maltraitance. Tout le monde est complice. Vous meritez tous une sanction penale, mais rassurez-vous, il n'y en aura pas, pour personne, meme pas, a mon avis Mme Uccellatore.

Pour vous aider, car je vois que vous ne comprenez rien, je vous joins deux autres documents, le mail que JuliEn UccEllatorE, le neveu de Mme Uccellatore du cote paternel & maternel, car Mme Uccellatore a fait un mariage symboliquement incestueux, et un arbrE gEnEologiquE pour que vous voyiez tout le monde. Notez bien le ton de M. Uccellatore, sans vengeance, sans amertume, il m'aide & il m'aidera aider Mme Uccellatore, lorsque j'aurai le droit d'accomplir ce devoir.

You're welcome.

Scott, pere de Rose

GEorgE OrwEll, Animal Farm (1945)

De: SAGReiss

Date: 4 juin 2013

Objet: Tr: Maltraitance & Malpractice

Madame le President Prats (Juge des Enfants), Madame le President Boudry (Juge d'Instruction), Monsieur le Procureur Senechal,

Je suis un peu triste de ne pas recevoir de vos nouvelles, car vous m'avez informe il y a deja belle lurette, Madame Prats, que vous rouvrez mon dossier (sous l'avis de notre collegue Dominique Senechal, Magistrat & fils de Magistrat) que vos collegues ont si negligemment traite la derniere fois, et pourtant j'ai toujours pas de convocation, ni de vous, ni des assistantes sociales, ni du Tribunal correctionnel. On dirait que vous etes perplexes. Je comprends votre pitoyable sort, car vous ne comprenez finalement rien, comme l'a dit si bien mon ami Fred d'Uzer lorsqu'il a saisi le microphone du Juge au meme Tribunal correctionnel, a part votre souhait de ne pas avoir de violent souk chez vous, au TGI de Privas, ce qui est a peu pres garanti au cas ou vous convoquez Mme Uccellatore & moi en meme temps, et finalement meme si vous me convoquez tout seul, car je ne serai pas tout seul, figurez-vous, manque de pot. J'amenerai quelques autres peres avec moi, quelques repris de Justice comme moi, comme l'a fait mon ami John Hodgkinson le 17 mai dernier. Pourtant, comme vous pouvez facilement constater ci-dessous, le dossier avance a tres grande vitesse (TGV) grace a mon infatigable ecriture, ce que vous ne savez pas faire, mais c'est pas grave. (Mme Uccellatore m'aide en cooperant avec moi pour faire avancer le dossier, tout en s'averant de plus en plus folle & dangereuse pour notre fille Rose, de qui vous vous foutez completement, aparemment.) Vous etes Magistrats, donc vous savez faire... je n'en sais rien, mais je suis secretaire & poete, donc c'est normal que je sache ecrire en toutes les langues. De toute facon je vous rassure par la presente que je suis pret (Je suis ne pret, et ma fille aussi.) et vous attends donc avec impatience, car je sais que vous etes precisement formes pour s'occuper de... rien du tout. Vous etes des bourgeois (Notez bien, s'il vous plait, que je ne vous traite pas encore de porcs, comme l'a fait mon ami George Orwell [de naissance Eric Arthur Blair] dans son roman Animal Farm, que je vous encourage vivement a lire, puisque je sais qu'il vous manque, helas, une education.) donc vous ne pouvez pas comprendre les problemes des gens normaux, meme si Mme Uccellatore & moi sommes des intellectuels, donc infiniment plus cultives que vous. Voila donc, je vous attends, Mme Uccellatore vous attend, et l'ete va etre tres long & douleureux pour vous. Je vais vous emmerder jusqu'a ce que vous ne me lachiez (et je me permets de me servir d'une expression quelque peu vulgaire) la grappe, pour que je puisse de nouveau m'occuper de choses serieuses et aider Rose & sa mere, ce qui est naturellement mon role de pere. Ce n'est pas votre role, et vous n'avez aparemment aucune competence dans ce domaine.

Merci & a bientot.

Scott, pere de Rose