The Justice Department: Musique sans Frontieres
Special Agent DJ Justice is manning the dials, spinning the discs, warbling the woofers, putting a slip in your hip and a trip to your hop.
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“Do you smell that?” she asked, as we drove through Reims, past the headquarters of the National Front, on our way to La Tranche sur Mer.
“I don’t know,” I said flatly, “what is it?”
“It smells like… ” she sniffed in a haughty, Parisian
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disdain, “it smells like, fascism.”
I knew then I was in love with her. I knew it truly.
– Justice Putnam
“My Little French Honeymoon”
