For some reason, only those above 18 were allowed to attend this ceremony.
General Bonaparte holds a contest to see who comes closest to looking like his horse.
Given that portrait painters always tried to make powerful people look more handsome, it says something that all the portraits of Bonaparte show him as pudgy and generally unattractive.
You know, if I were a pretty boy, I wouldn’t have had to conquer most of Europe to get some respect
… a cloud of dust, and a hearty “Hi-Yo, Argent, fuyez!”
What am I going to do with the keys to ANOTHER city?
The other two Amigos will arrive shortly El Guapo!
“We’re the Red Cummerbund Brigade, General. We don’t have any fighting skills, but we can put on one hell of a victory ball after the battle.”
“The Rockettes were booked, so we decided to fill in.”
Gotta love Tweedledum and Tweedledee over on the right rocking MEGA old man high waists.
Napoléon rode his white stallion / in front of a mighty battalion. / As he reached Amsterdam, / (leaving home his Madame), / the Dutch bribed him with a medallion.
or … / Merengo was munching a scallion.
or … / Bonaparte was at heart an Italian.
The all-powerful leader of France / taught his trusty white stallion to prance / down the long crowded rows / of fat men in white hose, / that were also, somehow, tight white pants.
Napoléon takes his right hand out of his vest just long enough to reach for the eponymous pastry being offered to him on a velvet cushion, (but he would have preferred a cheese danish).
The President of Brazil/ put a codicil in his will:/ everyone gets a portion/ of his personal fortune/ which averages out to nil. /// Napoleon did the same/ but (to France’s eternal shame)/ no Brazilian got any/ (not a single French penny)/ though several placed a claim./// But what do you want from France ?/ They can’t spare a second glance/ for Brazil (it’s the pits !)/ what with Marianne’s tits/ exposed – and dead guys with no pants….
Your Grey Poupon, but of course.
napoleon receives the keys to the city and prepares to visit the famous red light district…
I don’t need no booster seat – off with his head!
“A pillow for your saddle sores General.”
Napoleon..”Is that the best you can do? Merde! I’m better than that!”
When “Boney” rides into town/ the folks always give him a crown./ He’s the kind of a dude/if he’s in a good mood/ who might even not burn the place down.
“Netherlandish” sounds so vague. Might be Dutch, might be Belgian. Somewhere around there.
In the city of tight white pants/ a chubby chap hasn’t a chance/ but astride a white horse/ with an army (of course)/ he might get a second glance.
“We had to take it back from the King of Id,”
A men’s Lululemon gathering?
NAPOLEAN: Okay. Wheech one of you dared to yell HI YO SILVER – AWAY?
From somewhere in the crowd: NOT ME – KEMOSABE!
NAPOLEAN: Eets the guillotine for anyone who gee-gled!
“We’d like to welcome you to Munchkinland!”
The troops behind him whispering, “We can keep our hats on as long as he can’t see us.”
Their Mothers dress them funny.
Because his hemorrhoids were such a pain in the butt, Napolean required an extra cush for the tush.
Actually, legend has it that on the morning of the Battle of Waterloo, Napolean’s hemorrhoids were so bad that he couldn’t sit on his horse to command his army.
Napoleon’s arrival in Amsterdam, 9 October 1811:
(best viewed using Google Chrome, which can automatically translate most webpages if necessary) has info and links that point to more info about this huge painting.
Again, a larger strip image is shown by (⌘- or Ctrl-) clicking the image at
I have added a comment there (awaiting Mr. Melcher’s approval) pointing to the artist info I used to point to here. First work by this artist used here.
I’ve read that, given that people back in the 1800s or smaller than today, Napoleon was really not short in comparison
Napoleon is looking forward to trying out some of that world famous Dutch Kush.
It would add to his stature, indeed, / to be viewed seated high on his steed. / ‘Twas a long ride from France / by the seat of his pants, / and his hemorrhoids slowed down the speed. /// After Bonaparte had fled this scene / (to go visit a nearby latrine), / his pain cut like a knife, / so he put off his wife, / telling her, “Not tonight, Josephine.”
Does this horse make me look short?
Gentlemen, this battle will be about whether we wear tight pants or jodhpurs, so fight the good fight and i know we will be in tights for ever.
Your hat must be this wide to enjoy the ride.
As leader of the Munchkin city, in the county of the land of Oz… we welcome you so regally! Portly tummies brigade-2nd class!!! :>)