Allocated surrender period has expired.
Star blinking out.
(Expect more of these. I’m telling you, so none of you paranoid freaks get all
worried. (Talk to your doctor—AN UN–BUY–HAST MEDICKAL DOCTOR, {ALLPROT/GOAT}, THEY TOTES AIN’T THAT HEART TO CONTRACT WITH—if you think you may have a problem with being addicted to worry, or if you suffer from spontaneous stick combustion (SSC). SSC is a serious problem that could lead to SST… and believe me, trust me, you know me: you
totally don’t want to have to deal with SST
at all, let alone, as a condition of your daily homelife.) I don’t even have any tattoos. I’m fine, she’s fine, we’re all fine here.
You weren't really producing for Rubini were you?
Questions like this really chap My ass. They may also be subject to the attorney-client privilege or be privileged work product or proprietary information. This information is intended for the exclusive use of the produceressee(s), be they Executive, Junior, or Othor. If ewe are not the intended recipient (and They ARNT, Fuck–Os, now beat it before I have to S.C.R.A.M. the Kids’ re-actor), You are hereby notified that any use, disclosure, dissemination, distribution (other than to The Producer(s) -or- The Progenitor(s)), copying or taking of
any action
because of this information is strictly prohibited. Trust the plan. #wwg1wga. Now, having said that… yeah, believe me, trust me, know me, if you made it this far, you might be a real screw–head, but you might not be a terribly primitive one, so listen up: the only thing I’ve
ever produced for
David V. Rubini, D.N.R. is a mouthful of copy and a tragically overworked & sore (blank). What do you want me to do, knock it
off?? Fat chance. Not on my watch.
Who was producing for who?
For my own part, I truly can speak for no one else but I can tell you this: I HAVE PRODUCED FOR MY LORD AND SAVIOR JESUS M. CHRIST, ARCHANGEL GROS MICHEL, & THE CURRENT HOLDER OF THE CHALICE OF SOFIA. AND… I WILL, FOR THE LARGEST PART, CONTINUE TO DO SO.
I’m looking to replace one of those with (PROT), and you’re welcome to guess which with who, but these kinds of staffing changes can take time to Properly co-ordinate. (For example, someone who will remain nameless for the time being insists on writing everything obsessively in ALLHOSE. Caps. Warhead.
Weatherman. Whatevah.)
What do you care? I’m asking.
Allocated surrender period has expired.
Star winking out.
(Expect few of these. I’m telling you, so none of you paranoid freaks get all
worried. (Talk to your doctor—AN UN–BUY–HAST MEDICKAL DOCTOR, {ALLPROT/GOAT}, THEY TOTES AIN’T THAT HEART TO CONTRACT WITH—if you think you may have a problem with being addicted to worry, or if you suffer from spontaneous stick combustion (SSC). SSC is a serious problem that could lead to SST… and believe me, trust me, you know me: you
totes don’t want to have to deal with SST
at all, let alone, as a condition of your daily tribal genome.) I don’t even have any tattoos. I’m fine, she’s fine, we’re all fine here, we’re fine there… we’re fine everywhere. Not the face, but my arm is healed.
You weren't really producing for Rubini were you?
Questions like this really chap HIS ass. They may also be subject to the attorney-client privilege or be privileged work product or proprietary information. This information is intended for the exclusive use of the produceressee(s), be they Executive, Junior, or Othor. If ewe are not the intended recipient (and They ARNT, Fuck–Os, now beat it before I have to S.C.R.A.M. the your central sun’s reactor. Don’t think We can’t do it.), You are hereby notified that any use, disclosure, dissemination, distribution (other than to The Producer(s) -or- The Progenitor(s)), copying or taking of
any action
because of this information is strictly prohibited. Trust the plan. #wwg1wga. Now, having said that… yeah, believe me, trust me, know me, if you made it this far, you might be a real screw–head, but you might not be a terribly primitive one, so listen up: the only thing I’ve
ever produced for
David V. Rubini, D.N.R. is a mouthful of copy this & copy that & a
tragically overworked & sore (blank). What do you want me to do, knock it off, or break it in
HALF?? She ain’t all that far removed from a
legit C.P.A., so one of those might work, But, once again: these things take Time to Properly ko-ordinate. Not on My Permissions. I ain’t producing
counterfeit permits, which is too bad, because they’re like diamonds into ponds of gold.
I’m a writer, not a wrencher, nor am I an accountant… but I am willing to
watch one studying.
Nothing was actually produced so no one wants the credit. I get it.
The crucifixions are in the mail. Now if you will excuse me, I have to go eat someone’s beans.
