"Every Picture Tells a Story" TRANSLATED

    There was a period of my life when I considered myself substandard.  Before a looking glass, I adjusted my coif into a myriad of configurations and yet it didn't significantly alter my appearance.  My father declared, "Travel, young man.  I'd completely understand if that's what you want to do.  I would only advise you not to fall deeply in love with a lady who will be profligate with your financial resources."  And so I left home.  Woo.
    The famed City of Light was a location where it was possible to go into hiding if one felt like an outcast.  However, the Gallic gendarmes harassed me, asserting that I was an odious individual.  On the southern bank of the Seine — woo — a group of fleeing protesters pushed me to the ground and I was taken into police custody, charged with instigating a benign uprising, when in fact I had merely been seeking a spot of Earl Grey.  I was held responsible — woo — and so I left town.
    In the City of Seven Hills, I was not obtaining sufficient quantities of those things which are critical to sustaining a lad.  I had powerful body odor and yet I retained my élan — woo — during a period when I was enduring great misfortune.  My despair was growing, yes it was, and I was quite a sight to behold.  I really ought to leave before the Holy See retracts its approval of me.  I was not prepared for such an eventuality; no, I was not.
    I traveled toward the rising sun, yes, I did, and now hear me out.  I was in good spirits en route home on the boat from Beijing. By the particular lunar light unique to Asian skies, I began an amorous relationship with a woman whose eyelids featured the epicanthal folds often found in persons of East Asian descent.  Lily, who hailed from Shanghai, did not employ oral contraception, asserting that it's unacceptably synthetic.  She escorted me aboveboard and gave me a hickey.  My listeners, I was delighted to have encountered her.  Oh yes, I was delighted to have encountered her.  Woo-hoo.  And now let's pause a moment.
    I was fully confident that I was self-sufficient.  I honestly believed that I required no one but myself.  But that was profoundly incorrect.  I would not allow the ladies with whom I have had relationships to knot my laces.  They had no respect for anybody.  But I was smitten by the woman whose eyelids featured the epicanthal folds often found in people of East Asian descent.  My heavens, I was delighted to have encountered her.  I have some helpful life-advice, but I won't cite the 19th-century English novelist Charles Dickens, or the 19th-century English Romantic poets Percy Bysshe Shelley and John Keats because they've already said what they've said.  My advice is this: try to see the upside of adverse circumstances and dismiss them with good cheer — ha — after all, you did not choose to be born.
    So don't forget that every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.  Woo.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.  Woo.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.  Woo.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.  Woo.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.  Woo.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.  Woo.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.  Woo.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.
    Every image imparts a narrative, doesn't it.