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John Boston: Don't hate me because I'm cheesy

Posted: January 22, 2009 7:43 p.m.
Updated: January 23, 2009 4:55 a.m.

John Boston

 
"The poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese."
- G. K. Chesterton

Today's tale is one of gullibility, the French, cheese and women.

The world of women's beauty care is a mystery to me. I'm sure I'd be on the hit list of a dozen European skin care institutes if word got out I shampoo with Lava soap.

On the bright side, I've never had anyone approach me to ask: "Pardon me, Mister Partner - but isn't that the absolute wrong shade of bronzer to go with that Stetson?"

As a guy, I would never have even conceived the idea of eye-liner.

"You're going to take a sharp pencil and draw an oval around your eyeballs? The ones you see with? You're going to do this while driving a car at 80 mph? Are you nuts?"

Women use their faces as an artist uses a brush and canvas. Sometimes the end result is like sunrise over a dewy meadow. Sometimes it's a clown painting in the dentist's office.

Women get away with splashing all manner of things on their faces.

Like cheese.

Yes, cheese.

I'm not making this up. Why would women use cheese to accent their glowing inner beauty?

Are they lonely and trying to attract mice?

Now if a guy - let's just call him California Sen. George Runner - were to walk around with cheese on his face, someone might sheepishly offer a little dabbing gesture while pointing to his cheek:

"Uhh, George. Think you got about six pounds of brie there the napkin didn't catch from lunch."

Or: "George. May we call room service and order you a slice of Black Forest ham and some Ritz crackers to go with that?"

Or: "Hey, George! What happened to all the pepperoni?"

Actually, our 17th District rep could show up in a grass skirt, shrunken-head necklace and Green Bay Packer cheese hat and not attract attention in Sacramento.

If he were a Democrat.

Here's an Important Guy Health Tip:

Never - EVER - ask a woman: "Excuse me, Myrtle. What in the great apes of Edgar Rice Burroughs is that stinky stuff melting off your noggin?"

Psychiatrists call any unnecessary male negative attention to a woman's face a - say it with me - "Death Wish."

La Mort Desir.

If you bump into any woman whose head is partially encased in cheese, far better to say, as they do in France:

"Garconnet bonjour vox yeux sont aussi bleus que l'ocean de mon amour pour vous est grand."

"Boy howdy your eyes are bluer than the deep blue sea and my love for you is most immense."

We speak of cheese faces today thanks to Ms. Gilberte Van Erpe. Recently, she was arrested by Paris police for creating a bogus facial dairy products empire.

The French woman allegedly set up a pyramid scheme defrauding thousands of investors in her "Magic Cheese" beauty products company.

I can just see me sent to the mall to retrieve some esoteric line of cosmetics.

"Now which beauty jar did the little woman want me to bring home? Maybelline or Magic Cheese?"

Madame Van Erpe claimed her line of cosmetics was a miracle worker. After immersing your puss in a wheel of Munster-Géromé, you could dive in looking like Barbara Bush Sr./Martin Van Buren (ever wonder why you never see them in the same place?) and come out looking like supermodel Eva Longoria.

French cheese as make-up.

J'espere que votre éruption est aussi virulente que la mienne.

I hope your rash is in every manner as virulent as mine.

Madame Van Erpe created these cheese kits and claimed they were the latest beauty rage in Paris. At about $350 a unit, she bilked investors out of a staggering $400 million.

Except for the tonnage of dollars, you'd think the venture capitalists involved were from Palmdale, where it would seem perfectly reasonable to walk around with fondue under your baseball cap.

But the marks were mostly from France and South America, which is sort of like Palmdale, only with shrubbery.

Desole pardon.

Excuse me.

I am such a fool. I am scratching to earn a buck and it was there, all along, right in front of me: the secret to millions. You go to Piggy Wiggly. You buy a few thousand packages of Kraft Camembert de Normandie and appear on Oprah.

You slap a few slices on Rosie O'Donnell and yell: "Hey! Look! Haley's Comet!!"

When the audience turns to look, you pull a trap door. Rosie falls through and is replaced by Halle Berry.

Even for the French, it's so wrong.

Que les flammes de I'Islam consument votre train de vie degenere!

Would but the flames of Islam incinerate your despicable lifestyle!

I'm a guy. I'm shaking my head. No. I'm wincing. Botox? Can you imagine someone sticking a needle into your lip so you look like a horror movie victim recently stung by giant wasps?

In search of the Land of Forever Teenagedom, women would even listen to Daffy Duck sporting lime-green Espedrilles, an ascot and a lisp if he had a new beauty product:

"Here. Take theeeth two live thhhhkunks and preth them firmly againsthh your eyes. They'll eliminate unthightly crowth's feet!!"

Dear me. Crow's feet? Whatever happened to the more gentle "laugh lines?"
I guarantee after Daffy's infomercial aired, you'd have a million blinded women resolutely clutching polecats to their faces while screaming and slamming into mailboxes.

(If you have, or know of someone who has, suffered S.E.I. (Skunk Eye Injury) or who has been threatened or scared by a skunk, or has bumped into a mailbox while thinking of a skunk, call SCV attorney Bill Lively at (661) 287-3600. Some toll charges may apply. Some may not.)

Sigh.

Cheese beauty products.

Une mode qui en a encore pour un bon quart d'heure.

It's certainly going to be the latest fashion - for at least another quarter of an hour.

We must have compassion.

If you're out a few thousand bucks after being duped by something so idiotic, the last thing you ever want to hear in a big Western twang is: "dites le fromage!"

Or, as we say in the Anglais:

"Say cheese!"

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