He shared English citizenship with Manchester United's Wayne Rooney who played more like Andy this past World Cup, while calling Obershausen, in the vicinity of Frankfurt am Main, home and his Lady Cleo impersonation fascinated the world, or at least that part of it correctly calling what we Yanks call soccer, 'football.' Gibts was wissenwertes uber Obershausen? Ehrlich gesagt, weiss Ich nicht. Uber Erlangen, klar aber, uber Obershausen, bin Ich mich nicht sicher.
Paul, as the news accounts relate, turned in on Monday evening hale and hearty and woke up dead on Tuesday. He died of natural causes, the account goes on to say. Not quite sure what's considered 'natural causes' for an octopus living in a municipal aquarium but if Jack Hanna's not raising an alarm, I'm good with the coroner's report as well.
The true victim in Paul's passing is his agent's career. You're not even surprised to learn he had an agent, are you? Actually, neither was I. Paul also probably had a couple of roadies and at least one groupie; just hope she wasn't a Plaster Caster (what can be said about Cyn? And you thought those stories about drugs in the Sixties were hyperbole. HA!). After you've repped for a squid who foresees the scores of World Cup matches, everything else is just stale beer.
Funeral arrangement are still pending, it seems. You could check with our daughter, Michelle, for the proper protocol of at-sea burial of her fish, but be prepared to be punched if you do. I'm not sure why she always expected a Viking (no, not this one) funeral. Could be worse, I suppose, Paul. You could be in the Ice House in Detroit (Brrrrrr!). Consolation prize: tartar sauce and a cameo appearance on a spiesekarte. As it is, brace for large quantities of Carbonara and Coca-Cola..
-bill kenny
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