Case #33 – re The People vs Barry Shapiro #1 (Barry no speakee Spanee)
And presented for the Court, is a case involving the station's favorite comedic duo. It was still daylight and Barry Shapiro and his partner, Gil Morales, were driving along in the Torrance Strip. Barry spotted some Mexican national ne’er-do-wells selling flowers in the center median without a license. Rest easy Gotham City, Barry Shapiro is 10-8. Barry used his big boy voice to order the Spanish speaking perps to cease and desist in their criminal undertaking. The felonious flower sellers smiled at him, nodded their heads and continued selling their three day old flowers. This really got Barry’s goat. If anybody was going to make a buck off of three day old flowers, it was gonna be Barry "Hey, I gotta great deal on pens" Shapiro! He leaned out of his car window and yelled at them again,
“YO! Quit sellin’ da frickin flowas!”
The two flower vendors smiled at him, nodded their heads, meekly said, “Yes”, and sold another bunch of flowers. Barry was in a fury,
“AY! AHM talkin' to yous two guys!”
The two flower vendors smiled at him, nodded their heads, meekly said, “Okay”, and made three more flower sales. Barry snatched his baton and started to open his door, clearly intent on opening a can of good old Brooklyn whoop-ass on the two tulip offenders. Gil grabbed Barry's arm and in a calm, patient, soothing and REASONABLE manner said,
“Take it easy Barry, they probably don’t speak English.”
“Oh,…”, Barry said, “…I guess your right.” He immediately calmed down, and felt a bit foolish for getting so riled up so easily. Gil continued,
“Dude, they're in a foreign country, they don’t speak the language, they don’t know the laws, they probably don’t have any family here, they probably work 16 hours a day, for two bucks an hour, and then a cop starts yelling at them. They’re probably confused and scared, because in Mexico, the cops torture you, and steal from you, and kick your ass for no reason.”
Gil shook his head in disbelief at Barry’s barbaric, and inconsiderate behavior, then turned his head away in disappointment.
“Jeepers, I didn’t t'ink about dat.” Now Barry felt like a heel.
“Well, how do yous say, ‘You cain’t sell no flowas’, in Spanish?”, Barry asked.
Gil turned back to look at Barry as if to see if Barry was serious, Barry was. It was plain to see that he really wanted to make it up to the flower vendors.
“Okay just say this, “Yo…”
“Yo…”, Hell, being from New York, Barry had been saying that his entire life.
"Soy"
“…so-ee…”
“…no, it doesn't rhyme with Joey. Listen...soy…”
"Soy"
“…hoto.”
“…hoto.”
“Yo soy hoto.”
“Yo soy hoto.”
“That’s it! Very good.”
“Thanks. What’s it mean?”
“You can’t sell flowers.”
“T'anks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Barry got out of the car puffed out his chest, hiked up his gun belt and sauntered up to the flower vendors with that patented bouncy, head bobbing strut of his, and a big friendly smile on his face. He stopped next to the flower vendors, looked at each of them in turn and said, (still with the micro-tremor head bob going)
“Yo soy ho-toe.”
The flower vendors looked at him confused.
Barry thought perhaps he had mispronounced it and turned to look at Gil for direction. Gil, who was now leaning against the radio car with his arms crossed, watching, smiled, nodded encouragingly, and motioned with his hand that Barry should try again. Barry turned back to the flower vendors and tried again,
“Yo soy hoto.”
The flower vendors looked at each other and started to snicker. Barry tried again. This time he did what most people do when they are having trouble communicating with someone who speaks a foreign language. He said it slower and louder.
“YO…SOY…HOTO!”
Now the flower vendors were outright laughing at him.
Barry tried again, changing the accent on the syllables,
“YO SOY HOtow! YO SOY hoeTO!”
The flower vendors were rolling now.
Barry stormed back to the patrol car and snatched his baton from the window. Gil, who was laughing so hard, he had tears in his eyes, grabbed Barry and yelled something at the flower vendors in Spanish. The flower vendors nodded grabbed their stuff and ran as Gil held Barry back.
Once they were gone Barry asked Gil what he was doing wrong. Gil explained,
“Yo soy hoto’ means, ‘I’m a fag’.”
VERDICT – Deputy Shapiro, hmmmm, I don’t know……I know it’s all right there in front of me, but I just can’t seem to wrap it all together to bring it on home…I’m gonna have to call this one a D.A reject pending further investigation. Sorry fellas.
And presented for the Court, is a case involving the station's favorite comedic duo. It was still daylight and Barry Shapiro and his partner, Gil Morales, were driving along in the Torrance Strip. Barry spotted some Mexican national ne’er-do-wells selling flowers in the center median without a license. Rest easy Gotham City, Barry Shapiro is 10-8. Barry used his big boy voice to order the Spanish speaking perps to cease and desist in their criminal undertaking. The felonious flower sellers smiled at him, nodded their heads and continued selling their three day old flowers. This really got Barry’s goat. If anybody was going to make a buck off of three day old flowers, it was gonna be Barry "Hey, I gotta great deal on pens" Shapiro! He leaned out of his car window and yelled at them again,
“YO! Quit sellin’ da frickin flowas!”
The two flower vendors smiled at him, nodded their heads, meekly said, “Yes”, and sold another bunch of flowers. Barry was in a fury,
“AY! AHM talkin' to yous two guys!”
The two flower vendors smiled at him, nodded their heads, meekly said, “Okay”, and made three more flower sales. Barry snatched his baton and started to open his door, clearly intent on opening a can of good old Brooklyn whoop-ass on the two tulip offenders. Gil grabbed Barry's arm and in a calm, patient, soothing and REASONABLE manner said,
“Take it easy Barry, they probably don’t speak English.”
“Oh,…”, Barry said, “…I guess your right.” He immediately calmed down, and felt a bit foolish for getting so riled up so easily. Gil continued,
“Dude, they're in a foreign country, they don’t speak the language, they don’t know the laws, they probably don’t have any family here, they probably work 16 hours a day, for two bucks an hour, and then a cop starts yelling at them. They’re probably confused and scared, because in Mexico, the cops torture you, and steal from you, and kick your ass for no reason.”
Gil shook his head in disbelief at Barry’s barbaric, and inconsiderate behavior, then turned his head away in disappointment.
“Jeepers, I didn’t t'ink about dat.” Now Barry felt like a heel.
“Well, how do yous say, ‘You cain’t sell no flowas’, in Spanish?”, Barry asked.
Gil turned back to look at Barry as if to see if Barry was serious, Barry was. It was plain to see that he really wanted to make it up to the flower vendors.
“Okay just say this, “Yo…”
“Yo…”, Hell, being from New York, Barry had been saying that his entire life.
"Soy"
“…so-ee…”
“…no, it doesn't rhyme with Joey. Listen...soy…”
"Soy"
“…hoto.”
“…hoto.”
“Yo soy hoto.”
“Yo soy hoto.”
“That’s it! Very good.”
“Thanks. What’s it mean?”
“You can’t sell flowers.”
“T'anks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Barry got out of the car puffed out his chest, hiked up his gun belt and sauntered up to the flower vendors with that patented bouncy, head bobbing strut of his, and a big friendly smile on his face. He stopped next to the flower vendors, looked at each of them in turn and said, (still with the micro-tremor head bob going)
“Yo soy ho-toe.”
The flower vendors looked at him confused.
Barry thought perhaps he had mispronounced it and turned to look at Gil for direction. Gil, who was now leaning against the radio car with his arms crossed, watching, smiled, nodded encouragingly, and motioned with his hand that Barry should try again. Barry turned back to the flower vendors and tried again,
“Yo soy hoto.”
The flower vendors looked at each other and started to snicker. Barry tried again. This time he did what most people do when they are having trouble communicating with someone who speaks a foreign language. He said it slower and louder.
“YO…SOY…HOTO!”
Now the flower vendors were outright laughing at him.
Barry tried again, changing the accent on the syllables,
“YO SOY HOtow! YO SOY hoeTO!”
The flower vendors were rolling now.
Barry stormed back to the patrol car and snatched his baton from the window. Gil, who was laughing so hard, he had tears in his eyes, grabbed Barry and yelled something at the flower vendors in Spanish. The flower vendors nodded grabbed their stuff and ran as Gil held Barry back.
Once they were gone Barry asked Gil what he was doing wrong. Gil explained,
“Yo soy hoto’ means, ‘I’m a fag’.”
VERDICT – Deputy Shapiro, hmmmm, I don’t know……I know it’s all right there in front of me, but I just can’t seem to wrap it all together to bring it on home…I’m gonna have to call this one a D.A reject pending further investigation. Sorry fellas.
Reminded me if the cheech and chongs pendecho/my very good friend scene.
ReplyDeleteI'm not familiar with that one, but since I like Cheech and Chong, I'll take it as a compliment.
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