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Peter Wieck wrote:

As to Ms. Piaf:

Trust Mr. Jute to embelish interesting enough facts with enough legend
and falsehood to choke even 60 horses:

Why, you lying little dickless slug, The Boss never wrote anything as
turgid as this rubbish that you're trying to put in his mouth.

__________________________________________________ ___

In 1958 she was in a serious car accident and took morphine for pain
and relapsed into drug and alcohol abuse. In 1959, Édith broke down
during a performance in New York and thereafter survived a number of
operations. She returned to Paris in poor health. Édith met her second
husband, Théo Sarapo, in the winter of 1961. Théo was a twenty-six-
year-old hairdresser-turned-singer and actor, and was twenty years
younger than Piaf. They married in 1962. He rejuvenated her enough to
make her last recordings and performances. Piaf went to a small town
(Cannes) in the South of France in early 1963 to recuperate but she
fell in and out of a coma beginning in April 1963. At the early age of
47 on October 10, 1963, Édith Piaf died of cancer. Her husband Théo
discretely drove her body back to Paris and announced her death on
October 11, 1963. Upon hearing of her death, Édith's long-time friend,
Jacques Cocteau suffered a cardiac arrest and died.
The Roman Catholic Church denied Édith Piaf a funeral mass because of
her lifestyle. Piaf was buried in cemetery Père Lachaise on October
14, 1963.
Théo Sarapo, Édith's husband died in an automobile accident in 1970
and is buried beside Piaf in Père Lachaise.
__________________________________________________ ______

The saddest part is that the bare facts are interesting enough to
stand on their own without additional tripe and twaddle afterwards.

Then why do you, Worthless Wiecky, embroider the facts by inventing
the story that Theo Sarapo chopped up Edith Piaf's body for transport
to Paris. You say: "Her husband Théo discretely drove her body back to
Paris". Into how many pieces do you claim he chopped her body? And how
many trips do you claim he made?

Far from Mr Jute embroidering the story, or adding anything, you're
the one who in manufacturing your so-called "evidence" is inventing
events that never happened: "additional tripe and twaddle" indeed.

This is what The Boss actually wrote:

Andre Jute wrote:

Trivia for you: Edith Piaf's last lover, after she took the drugs
overdose that killed her, decided a French national icon should not
die anywhere but Paris, so he drove her body, sitting in the passenger
seat beside him, through the night from the Mediterranean coast to
Paris. The car was a Simca V8.

And that is everything The Boss wrote on the subject, nothing
superfluous, just the facts, and just enough of them to suggest the
story and whet the appetite. Compare the two versions. The Boss took
exactly 53 words to tell the entire story with a stunning punch. You
took 230, more than four times as many to make the same story dull
even as you tried unnecessarily to sensationalize it. That tells us
everything we need to know about who is the professional storyteller
and who is the clumsy wannabe.

And that brilliantly brief piece by The Boss is what you, Worthless
Wieckless, snipped out so that you could deceitfully substitute your
own piece of turgid pomposity. How did you think anyone with the
faintest sensitivity to the English language could ever believe The
Boss wrote your flyblown piece of crap?

And all that we learn from Mr. Jute is that he cannot tell a story
straight.

Compare the two pieces. It is quite clear who tells the story straight
and who throws in a kitchen sink full of garbage and bizarre
invention, including a chopped-up body. It is also clear that you,
Dickless Wieck, feels the need to embroider your version because you
know you lack authority. And then, further to enhance the authority of
your turgidly overwritten piece, you try to claim those are Mr Jute's
words! Does Mrs Wieck know you're stalking another man, Dickless
Wiecky?

Kinda puts the whole Simca statement in question.

You've been screeching for two years that The Boss is untruthful yet
you have failed to prove that he ever told a single lie. You're a
******, Wiecky, just like the Magnequest Scum before you were ******s.

Peter Wieck
Wyncote, PA
Kutztown Space 338 to get your Body Parts

Yours sincerely but without any respect for worthless trash.

Gray Glasser

PS to The Boss: I never suspected you of knowing anything at all about
popular music and/or popular musicians. Is the car the clue? Or is it
Suicide Chic, the Sylvia Plath Syndrome? I still burst out laughing
every time I remember the faces of those feminists when you sprang
that one on them.