Merci, je vous remercie du fond de mon coeur.
I thank you from the heart of my bottom.
So you are a bilingual, cultured guy. You speak French, of course.
Of course.
I'm not the kind of guy who thinks a coop de grass is a lawnmower.
No, of course not.
I'm not the kind of guy who thinks old Contraire is a deodorant.
Big French?
I'm not the kind of guy who thinks Chateau Gay means bath house for men.
No, indeed.
Certainly not the kind of guy who thinks complex des jardins means fear of gardens.
Oh, you speak French.
Oh, yes.
Not the kind of guy who thinks Bon Appétit means small penis.
My golly, I speak French.
It's absolutely French.
Not the kind of guy who thinks Duane is the name of the man who works at Canada Customs.
So you're not the kind of guy who thinks Kaki Saint-Jacques is the new Premier of Quebec?
I'm not the kind of guy who thinks cul-de-sac means vasectomy.
So you're not the kind of guy who thinks Cotinage is a snowsuit?
No.
And I'm not the kind of guy who thinks aperitif means a set of dentures.
So then, of course, you are not the kind of guy who thinks Dr. Pepper is Camille Lorraine.
Yes, indeed.
But you know, in spite of all this, I still have trouble with the license plate.
Je me souviens.
I asked the guy, I said, what does that mean?
He said, I can't remember.
I mean, a lot of people in Ontario think it means I can't drive.
Americans think it means I got the souvenir.
Well, I'll tell you what I remember.
I remember when Ethan's had an apostrophe S. You remember that?
Oh, yes. Yes, Ethan, yes, apostrophe S. Of course, something happened then.
Yes, it was taken away by the apostrophe SS.
A small but fanatical group that believes we'd all be better off without commas.
Except for the women in the group who believe we'd all be better off without periods.
I find it ironic that the patron saint of Quebec is John the Baptist, who of course is Jewish, as we all know.