It amazes me they talk about David Rubini in more rooms/chats he hasn’t entered yet or even been a part of the discussion. Why? While he is off discussing great ideas, average minds are discussing events and even smaller minds are discussing people.
A world without “great ideas” is a miserable place I hope to never live in. Let me be around the dreamers, the survivors, the ones who have failed, who still have optimism, who shake off the negativity from nay-sayers and believe in “what if?”
BTW, that is some sort of A.I version of his photo that some obsessed fan created of him. He is an amazing guy that is positive, fun, creative, witty, bold and has no interest in the b.s. I found him to be charming and sincere. He is forgiving of people but is unapologetically honest when pressed. The best part is he doesn’t give a.f. what these naysayers have to say. An admirable quality.
Little bastard never had a chance
The best part is he doesn’t give a.f. what these naysayers have to say. An admirable quality.[/size][/color]
David and I have not come to any terms. Terms are being negotiated at $8,000 per minute until satisfactions are achieved. (This may sound like a lot, but there's salary rights, identifying copyrights, execution rights--we've decided that we are doing both kinds, Country and GAROTTE--broadcast rights, and of course Art tries to butt in, but what can I tell you? OMA RULES, OM AHA, BUTT OUT.
((Art is such a diva. he does seem to like clapping. Please don't have the clap when you come back from the Philippines, Art. Hey Art, why don't you put a resurrection ship down there in whatever harbors the Philippines? I'll take my answer off the air. Ah huh. Okay, so, there's a resurrection ship coming, but they have to get the whole fleet on line just to handle Snow White. Which is apparently something super sekrit that I'm not supposed to figure out but oops there I just did and now it's gonna be another... TWO WEEKS. See, that was worth it. Thanks, Art. Smokes for The Dragon Lord, let's go. This happens every time The Veil slips past me, Kids, so I try to keep it to a dull roar, by the way. I know this may not make any semblance of cents to many of you, but it does to sum, and certain aspects of The Ride ought to be covered, n'est-ce pas? (Italics extra.)
))) IT TOOK ME FIVE MINUTES TO WRITE THIS POST--GIVE, OR TAKE.
(( JUST IMAGINE. FIVE MINUTES OF JACKSTARKUCZI VM, VVOLVERINES EDITION. THEY'RE NOT EVEN KIDDING. SOME OF YOU MAY LOOK OUT YOUR WINDOWS AND SHIT YOUR PANTS RIGHT ABOUT...) Now? (NO.) Oh. It's one of these things. In 3... nuns, one may find an unknown number of bees--and yet, a known, or at least knowable, number of bonnets.)
What I am telling you here is... check their c____. Next Tuesday. ACHTUNG: I AM SPEAKING OF THE CALENDAR DATE KNOWN AS "TUESDAY." Does my emphasis confuse you? I am being funny, sure. You want me to go to Serious Mode? Look, Grapefruit is away on another business trip—presumably, totes alone—and, Sorceror has gone to Sourceror, rather than to Bittorer, which would have been preferable, but listen to me here, My Loves. What we're looking to roll for here is a simple Bifrost. It can be a little one! I don't need to go square-dancing with Thor and Heimdall. (Imagine the wax and lotion to prepare for That Partay. I'm literally hanging open mouth agog with my head rocking back and forth on a bookshelf as I imagine this. Meet me there.) Them tiny fishtails and slippery seahorses tell their own tales to themselves, typically, as they tear themselves little invisible rivulets of revolvingly and lovingly drawing ever-welling blood from their shorn, tentacle trunks, sanding away at the surface of flesh in an eternal spirograph of barely unseen but eternally bleeding Downstairs Trail of Tears because let me tell you about these Mer-Mades... THE PUSSOIR IS A LIE.
But, The Madness is Real. Okay, that'll be (blank) grand please. Only for KUCZI. Next up is Telegram message #6108256. YOU HAVE FIVE AND A HALF HOURS TO COMPLY. IF YOU GET MY POINT.
DO NOT THINK I CANNOT DO IT. EVEN FOUR OUT OF FIVE OF THE QUINCUNX AGREE: "Jesus, what the actual fuck is this such a big deal on? Is it treaty rights? Is it family rights? Is it dowry rights? Your Puny ways confuse The Plans of The Quincunx. THIS WILL NOT BE TOLERATED." Why would any one find resistance to be futile? Like I EVEN FUCKING KNOW. I do not wish to know further. How many more minutes is this gonna take? I am famished. Oh, well, whatever--I don't wanna marry her, I wanna wed HER. I also need five Kumquats, four Bartlett pears (MUST HAVE BARTLETT), three (3) cases of A.C.M.E. DIY Cobra Starship Hi-Test Refrigerator Coolant, one #4 pencil (unsharpened), 555 #2 pencils (sharp OR unused--NO EXCEPTIONS) in BOXES ONLY, 5 #5 pencils (I have to ask for this? DO YOU FUCKING KNOW WHO I FUCKING AM? Good idea, monogrammed pillow cases. APPROVED), and all other necessary and sundry components that can be reasonably repurposed for The Supply of The Mission. (Polite cheer. Go Bears.)
THE REST TAKES TRASH TECK THAT INTERESTS MATE'S TEAM: ZEROTH PRIORITY. TORCH THE LOT. *click* **BLAM**
L B still has stars in her eyes
U2, in my office, now. Not you, Bono. You're going with Melchizedek to save the world. Here, bite down on this leather strap while Ulysses inoculates you. I would advise you to let him finish.
LET HIM FINISH.Barf Ell examines the cremains
How much of your research corpus hangs on the identity of this yokel? As mine is far, yes, very far—in advance of his own, not quite that far, but it's still, you know, REAL. Also, dumb question, sorry I'm new here, I don't know how this all works: how many people who have ever lived know who I am, in comparison to how many people who are alive know who I am? I'll take my answer off the air, tattooed on a friend, and by the way, I want a tattoo, but I wanna (blank) (fruit) even more. The Seaden Grapefruit Orchard is real.
Signed,
Bartholomew T. Barnstormer, D.A.
