Last night, after a visit to La Bellevilloise for some whiney French pop folk and some parallel universe version of proper service in which we were aggressively instructed to change tables, despite having already ordered and received our drinks, I grabbed one of their promotional flyers for the space on my way out the door. Lo and behold, one of most creative versions of the English language I’ve ever encountered. Just in case it isn’t entirely clear, they are describing their in-house restaurant here:

Playing mixes with a gift for taste chronology, playing with fresh soup containers pipe, round phial of little dishes increased with fresh peach and eatable flowerets gathered from the entire world, soil products worked with fineness and a pang of mischeviousness in the meat treatment subjugated to its vegetables. Samia, former globe trotter, immersed herself in her host countries rituals. The result: wonderful and healthy dishes like beautiful art work, and as many invitations to a journey.

I want some of those subjugated meat treatments with a pang of mischeviousness right away!

I know it’s a bit petty to post something like this on the internet.  But seriously, you can’t throw a stick in this town and not hit a native English speaker, probably one who whose translation skills could be bought for a meal or some concert tickets.  And the minute that this Broseph in a fedora barked out that we needed to change tables and essentially pushed us out of the space we had been given by our server after we had already proved ourselves to be paying customers, well, let’s just say I was already formulating my blogging revenge. Now get me some eatable flowerets, stat!