Pear

I just picked up a pre-order from, uh, Patrice Giard and his daughter, Estelle, some Pommeau.

And then I went over to see Antoine Mareau to get some cider and Poire and ice cider.

And while I'm thinking about it right now, I remember I also stopped at a little hidey, hidey spot and tucked away a bottle of s- uh, what was it? Poire from Domfrontais.

That was the maker Pacory, which you may have heard of before.

Uh, they have also been on the podcast Exquisite Poire.

So that when I went there with my tour group the following week, I'd be able to pull out that cider, and I kinda figured it'd be a little bit cold too, 'cause the nights are getting a little chilly.

And guess what? It was.

Uh, but the actual hike itself would work.

To me, whatever weather, someone could.

I just watched this documentary on HBO called something about Paradise, P-E-A-R, and it was about big girls, like a kind of creepy tech giant who loved like really big girls.

Paradise? P-E-A-R.

Like the shape of a pear?

Yeah.

And for me, that is the key question.

And let's face it, AI will never rhyme Pear and Australia as I did.

It takes a special kind of mind to do that, proving Terry Pratchett's point that real stupidity beats artificial intelligence every time.