TRF Prediction Thread and Roast: Rushgoober's 30,000th post

[Lorraine]

Cheapos.

[Narps]

Ah, HERE it is! As I said before, I tried clicking on the link on your page and it was as useless as Larry Flynt without his Viagra shipments.

Sorry about that...it doesn't work because its not real.

 

I was wondering about that whole custom domain thing. Still relatively new here, I guess, despite the obsessive participation.

That's all right. He wrote a phony Rolling Stone review a month or so ago that I thought was real.

I said at that time, fool me once shame on me etc etc etc........ So far it's still once :)

[Tombstone Mountain]

Cheapos.

The company just recently started reimbursing for parking...small steps, small steps.

[Tombstone Mountain]

Ah, HERE it is! As I said before, I tried clicking on the link on your page and it was as useless as Larry Flynt without his Viagra shipments.

Sorry about that...it doesn't work because its not real.

 

I was wondering about that whole custom domain thing. Still relatively new here, I guess, despite the obsessive participation.

That's all right. He wrote a phony Rolling Stone review a month or so ago that I thought was real.

I said at that time, fool me once shame on me etc etc etc........ So far it's still once :)

Yep I hear ya bro! But it was a good one though. Your responses were priceless.

[Narps]

Ah, HERE it is! As I said before, I tried clicking on the link on your page and it was as useless as Larry Flynt without his Viagra shipments.

Sorry about that...it doesn't work because its not real.

 

I was wondering about that whole custom domain thing. Still relatively new here, I guess, despite the obsessive participation.

That's all right. He wrote a phony Rolling Stone review a month or so ago that I thought was real.

I said at that time, fool me once shame on me etc etc etc........ So far it's still once :)

Yep I hear ya bro! But it was a good one though. Your responses were priceless.

:LMAO: <---------------------------- Insert me here, laughing at myself :)

[Tombstone Mountain]

Undoubtedly, one and all (what does the "all" add up to now? three?) are wondering where I've been.

 

All I can say is I was saved by Lakeisha and two of her dancing and ukulele playing Sisters.

 

On my way up to tea with Norman's mother, I became aware of a car horn beeping furiously. Lo and behold, there was Lakeisha and two of her cronies. She asked me where I was going. When I told her, she said that I shouldn't do that unless I wanted to wind up in a taxidermist office. I've learned not to ask any questions (for fear of hearing the answers), so I obediently hopped into the back seat and off we went.

 

Really, I should have at least asked where we were going because the next thing I knew we were driving up the endless driveway to Larry Flynt's estate. The first thing I saw was Tombstone chasing that chimpanzee in a negligee around the grounds. Very troublesome sight. We must have a talk with the man.

 

Larry very graciously greeted me and promised to be on his best behavior. We all have different definitions of "best" apparently, as mine does not line up with Larry's. Be that as it may, we spent an enjoyable evening watching old Pola Negri silent films and snacking on granola and carrot sticks. Wretched combination. Don't try it. Then Larry further entertained us by reading random chapters from his very much read and dog-eared copy of Hollywood Babylon.

 

My experiences in Southern Cal have given a new meaning to the word "bizarre" to me.

 

 

You have a habit of finding trouble when you leave the Thistle Dew unescorted.

 

I apologize if all the racket is preventing you from getting some much needed rest after your night with Larry and the girls (Oh, and Tombstone) , but I've been up on the roof all day replacing tiles.

 

Norman was in an unusually foul mood this morning. He had a big night on the town planned yesterday, his first in years, but his date cancelled at the last minute. To make matters worse, Tombstone's latest rent check bounced, and he said we'll have to earn our keep around here. He asked me to take a look at a stubborn stain in one of the showers after I finish with the roof.

 

Tombstone graced us with a brief visit. He dropped of that VHS copy of Forbidden Paradise that you won in the poker game with Flynt last night.

 

I hope Tombstone seeks counseling for that chimp fetish. I spied that poor creature in the passenger seat, wearing a Bubba's Bar & Grill t-shirt and a kufi. Very troubling, indeed.

 

Is Bubbles still alive?

Yes, I know. From now on we have to have some type of buddy system in place. I seem to find trouble even when I'm not looking for it. And staying (more like living at the rate this crisis is taking to resolve itself) at the Thistle Dew is trouble enough. Now with Normie in a bad mood - ditched by his chick and taken by a bounced check - I do believe it is time to relocate. I wouldn't advise the Flynt Estate. Of course, Substance, you are free to choose to stay there, but count me out. I'd rather go back to living in a pitched tent and waking up with sleeping bad hair and puffy eyelids at Wonderland (or is it Neverland? Hard to keep everything straight anymore - pretty soon I'll need an I.D. bracelet just to remember my own name!).

 

As for your friend Bubbles, I have no news. Might try calling the investigative reporter at the Grinder. They know everything.

 

Has anyone heard from Goober?

Don't think we'll hear from Goobs until the trial starts...that should be soon. I think the SCOG dancers will have their charges dismissed after the YBG interview. I dunno...Judge Hhang M. Hi is a stickler for procedure.

[HomesickAlien]

The Seven Cities of Gold ladies coerced me to go out and buy an outfit like they wear. They even came with me to make sure it was a perfect fit They think I look cute in it! They're such flatterers. No wonder why Larry loves them!

 

Then there are all of those cans of Raid we had to go out and buy to kill the rodents and bed bugs. I've got a few chits for Milk Duds that I purchased. And the incense sticks and patchouli oil from the Hare Krishna folks. I almost bought one of their saffron robes. Had I known I could get reimbursed, I would have.

 

I'm sure substance has a bunch of stuff he'd like to get reimbursed for too.

They don't reimburse for dimebags...company policy

 

:smoke:

[HomesickAlien]

The Seven Cities of Gold ladies coerced me to go out and buy an outfit like they wear. They even came with me to make sure it was a perfect fit They think I look cute in it! They're such flatterers. No wonder why Larry loves them!

 

Then there are all of those cans of Raid we had to go out and buy to kill the rodents and bed bugs. I've got a few chits for Milk Duds that I purchased. And the incense sticks and patchouli oil from the Hare Krishna folks. I almost bought one of their saffron robes. Had I known I could get reimbursed, I would have.

 

I'm sure substance has a bunch of stuff he'd like to get reimbursed for too.

 

What makes you think that we'll be reimbursed for anything? There's not enough money in that account to cover the room and board at our flophouse.

[HomesickAlien]

Undoubtedly, one and all (what does the "all" add up to now? three?) are wondering where I've been.

 

All I can say is I was saved by Lakeisha and two of her dancing and ukulele playing Sisters.

 

On my way up to tea with Norman's mother, I became aware of a car horn beeping furiously. Lo and behold, there was Lakeisha and two of her cronies. She asked me where I was going. When I told her, she said that I shouldn't do that unless I wanted to wind up in a taxidermist office. I've learned not to ask any questions (for fear of hearing the answers), so I obediently hopped into the back seat and off we went.

 

Really, I should have at least asked where we were going because the next thing I knew we were driving up the endless driveway to Larry Flynt's estate. The first thing I saw was Tombstone chasing that chimpanzee in a negligee around the grounds. Very troublesome sight. We must have a talk with the man.

 

Larry very graciously greeted me and promised to be on his best behavior. We all have different definitions of "best" apparently, as mine does not line up with Larry's. Be that as it may, we spent an enjoyable evening watching old Pola Negri silent films and snacking on granola and carrot sticks. Wretched combination. Don't try it. Then Larry further entertained us by reading random chapters from his very much read and dog-eared copy of Hollywood Babylon.

 

My experiences in Southern Cal have given a new meaning to the word "bizarre" to me.

 

 

You have a habit of finding trouble when you leave the Thistle Dew unescorted.

 

I apologize if all the racket is preventing you from getting some much needed rest after your night with Larry and the girls (Oh, and Tombstone) , but I've been up on the roof all day replacing tiles.

 

Norman was in an unusually foul mood this morning. He had a big night on the town planned yesterday, his first in years, but his date cancelled at the last minute. To make matters worse, Tombstone's latest rent check bounced, and he said we'll have to earn our keep around here. He asked me to take a look at a stubborn stain in one of the showers after I finish with the roof.

 

Tombstone graced us with a brief visit. He dropped of that VHS copy of Forbidden Paradise that you won in the poker game with Flynt last night.

 

I hope Tombstone seeks counseling for that chimp fetish. I spied that poor creature in the passenger seat, wearing a Bubba's Bar & Grill t-shirt and a kufi. Very troubling, indeed.

 

Is Bubbles still alive?

Yes, I know. From now on we have to have some type of buddy system in place. I seem to find trouble even when I'm not looking for it. And staying (more like living at the rate this crisis is taking to resolve itself) at the Thistle Dew is trouble enough. Now with Normie in a bad mood - ditched by his chick and taken by a bounced check - I do believe it is time to relocate. I wouldn't advise the Flynt Estate. Of course, Substance, you are free to choose to stay there, but count me out. I'd rather go back to living in a pitched tent and waking up with sleeping bad hair and puffy eyelids at Wonderland (or is it Neverland? Hard to keep everything straight anymore - pretty soon I'll need an I.D. bracelet just to remember my own name!).

 

As for your friend Bubbles, I have no news. Might try calling the investigative reporter at the Grinder. They know everything.

 

Has anyone heard from Goober?

 

Lorraine, don't go wobbly now. There's not a vacant room left in town because of all the media gathered for the trial, and you can forget about returning to that tent. Someone must have stolen it after we abandoned the jailhouse grounds. I'm pretty sure I saw it pitched by the gates of Neverland yesterday afternoon. When I walked over to check it out, a curious figure emerged. He had a great mane of hair and spoke with a Manc accent, called himself "treeduck", I think. He was the only one who refused to sign my petition. You should have seen the look on his face when I offered him a stick of incense.

 

It looks like we'll have to make the best of the Thistle Dew.

[Tombstone Mountain]

Undoubtedly, one and all (what does the "all" add up to now? three?) are wondering where I've been.

 

All I can say is I was saved by Lakeisha and two of her dancing and ukulele playing Sisters.

 

On my way up to tea with Norman's mother, I became aware of a car horn beeping furiously. Lo and behold, there was Lakeisha and two of her cronies. She asked me where I was going. When I told her, she said that I shouldn't do that unless I wanted to wind up in a taxidermist office. I've learned not to ask any questions (for fear of hearing the answers), so I obediently hopped into the back seat and off we went.

 

Really, I should have at least asked where we were going because the next thing I knew we were driving up the endless driveway to Larry Flynt's estate. The first thing I saw was Tombstone chasing that chimpanzee in a negligee around the grounds. Very troublesome sight. We must have a talk with the man.

 

Larry very graciously greeted me and promised to be on his best behavior. We all have different definitions of "best" apparently, as mine does not line up with Larry's. Be that as it may, we spent an enjoyable evening watching old Pola Negri silent films and snacking on granola and carrot sticks. Wretched combination. Don't try it. Then Larry further entertained us by reading random chapters from his very much read and dog-eared copy of Hollywood Babylon.

 

My experiences in Southern Cal have given a new meaning to the word "bizarre" to me.

 

 

You have a habit of finding trouble when you leave the Thistle Dew unescorted.

 

I apologize if all the racket is preventing you from getting some much needed rest after your night with Larry and the girls (Oh, and Tombstone) , but I've been up on the roof all day replacing tiles.

 

Norman was in an unusually foul mood this morning. He had a big night on the town planned yesterday, his first in years, but his date cancelled at the last minute. To make matters worse, Tombstone's latest rent check bounced, and he said we'll have to earn our keep around here. He asked me to take a look at a stubborn stain in one of the showers after I finish with the roof.

 

Tombstone graced us with a brief visit. He dropped of that VHS copy of Forbidden Paradise that you won in the poker game with Flynt last night.

 

I hope Tombstone seeks counseling for that chimp fetish. I spied that poor creature in the passenger seat, wearing a Bubba's Bar & Grill t-shirt and a kufi. Very troubling, indeed.

 

Is Bubbles still alive?

Yes, I know. From now on we have to have some type of buddy system in place. I seem to find trouble even when I'm not looking for it. And staying (more like living at the rate this crisis is taking to resolve itself) at the Thistle Dew is trouble enough. Now with Normie in a bad mood - ditched by his chick and taken by a bounced check - I do believe it is time to relocate. I wouldn't advise the Flynt Estate. Of course, Substance, you are free to choose to stay there, but count me out. I'd rather go back to living in a pitched tent and waking up with sleeping bad hair and puffy eyelids at Wonderland (or is it Neverland? Hard to keep everything straight anymore - pretty soon I'll need an I.D. bracelet just to remember my own name!).

 

As for your friend Bubbles, I have no news. Might try calling the investigative reporter at the Grinder. They know everything.

 

Has anyone heard from Goober?

 

Lorraine, don't go wobbly now. There's not a vacant room left in town because of all the media gathered for the trial, and you can forget about returning to that tent. Someone must have stolen it after we abandoned the jailhouse grounds. I'm pretty sure I saw it pitched by the gates of Neverland yesterday afternoon. When I walked over to check it out, a curious figure emerged. He had a great mane of hair and spoke with a Manc accent, called himself "treeduck", I think. He was the only one who refused to sign my petition. You should have seen the look on his face when I offered him a stick of incense.

 

It looks like we'll have to make the best of the Thistle Dew.

I knew Treeduck would show up. He's a member of the BRAWL'rs...sumthin' is going on under the radar. He wouldn't hang at neverland..It's beneath his technical death metal sensibilities. Just wait Tony will show up just to curse at the dumbasses in front of Neverland with those sequined gloves.

[HomesickAlien]

Undoubtedly, one and all (what does the "all" add up to now? three?) are wondering where I've been.

 

All I can say is I was saved by Lakeisha and two of her dancing and ukulele playing Sisters.

 

On my way up to tea with Norman's mother, I became aware of a car horn beeping furiously. Lo and behold, there was Lakeisha and two of her cronies. She asked me where I was going. When I told her, she said that I shouldn't do that unless I wanted to wind up in a taxidermist office. I've learned not to ask any questions (for fear of hearing the answers), so I obediently hopped into the back seat and off we went.

 

Really, I should have at least asked where we were going because the next thing I knew we were driving up the endless driveway to Larry Flynt's estate. The first thing I saw was Tombstone chasing that chimpanzee in a negligee around the grounds. Very troublesome sight. We must have a talk with the man.

 

Larry very graciously greeted me and promised to be on his best behavior. We all have different definitions of "best" apparently, as mine does not line up with Larry's. Be that as it may, we spent an enjoyable evening watching old Pola Negri silent films and snacking on granola and carrot sticks. Wretched combination. Don't try it. Then Larry further entertained us by reading random chapters from his very much read and dog-eared copy of Hollywood Babylon.

 

My experiences in Southern Cal have given a new meaning to the word "bizarre" to me.

 

 

You have a habit of finding trouble when you leave the Thistle Dew unescorted.

 

I apologize if all the racket is preventing you from getting some much needed rest after your night with Larry and the girls (Oh, and Tombstone) , but I've been up on the roof all day replacing tiles.

 

Norman was in an unusually foul mood this morning. He had a big night on the town planned yesterday, his first in years, but his date cancelled at the last minute. To make matters worse, Tombstone's latest rent check bounced, and he said we'll have to earn our keep around here. He asked me to take a look at a stubborn stain in one of the showers after I finish with the roof.

 

Tombstone graced us with a brief visit. He dropped of that VHS copy of Forbidden Paradise that you won in the poker game with Flynt last night.

 

I hope Tombstone seeks counseling for that chimp fetish. I spied that poor creature in the passenger seat, wearing a Bubba's Bar & Grill t-shirt and a kufi. Very troubling, indeed.

 

Is Bubbles still alive?

Yes, I know. From now on we have to have some type of buddy system in place. I seem to find trouble even when I'm not looking for it. And staying (more like living at the rate this crisis is taking to resolve itself) at the Thistle Dew is trouble enough. Now with Normie in a bad mood - ditched by his chick and taken by a bounced check - I do believe it is time to relocate. I wouldn't advise the Flynt Estate. Of course, Substance, you are free to choose to stay there, but count me out. I'd rather go back to living in a pitched tent and waking up with sleeping bad hair and puffy eyelids at Wonderland (or is it Neverland? Hard to keep everything straight anymore - pretty soon I'll need an I.D. bracelet just to remember my own name!).

 

As for your friend Bubbles, I have no news. Might try calling the investigative reporter at the Grinder. They know everything.

 

Has anyone heard from Goober?

 

Lorraine, don't go wobbly now. There's not a vacant room left in town because of all the media gathered for the trial, and you can forget about returning to that tent. Someone must have stolen it after we abandoned the jailhouse grounds. I'm pretty sure I saw it pitched by the gates of Neverland yesterday afternoon. When I walked over to check it out, a curious figure emerged. He had a great mane of hair and spoke with a Manc accent, called himself "treeduck", I think. He was the only one who refused to sign my petition. You should have seen the look on his face when I offered him a stick of incense.

 

It looks like we'll have to make the best of the Thistle Dew.

I knew Treeduck would show up. He's a member of the BRAWL'rs...sumthin' is going on under the radar. He wouldn't hang at neverland..It's beneath his technical death metal sensibilities. Just wait Tony will show up just to curse at the dumbasses in front of Neverland with those sequined gloves.

 

He didn't look too happy in that tent, but all the rooms in town are spoken for. I'm sure Norman can make room for him at the Thistle Dew; maybe he can bunk with Kato.

[Tombstone Mountain]

Undoubtedly, one and all (what does the "all" add up to now? three?) are wondering where I've been.

 

All I can say is I was saved by Lakeisha and two of her dancing and ukulele playing Sisters.

 

On my way up to tea with Norman's mother, I became aware of a car horn beeping furiously. Lo and behold, there was Lakeisha and two of her cronies. She asked me where I was going. When I told her, she said that I shouldn't do that unless I wanted to wind up in a taxidermist office. I've learned not to ask any questions (for fear of hearing the answers), so I obediently hopped into the back seat and off we went.

 

Really, I should have at least asked where we were going because the next thing I knew we were driving up the endless driveway to Larry Flynt's estate. The first thing I saw was Tombstone chasing that chimpanzee in a negligee around the grounds. Very troublesome sight. We must have a talk with the man.

 

Larry very graciously greeted me and promised to be on his best behavior. We all have different definitions of "best" apparently, as mine does not line up with Larry's. Be that as it may, we spent an enjoyable evening watching old Pola Negri silent films and snacking on granola and carrot sticks. Wretched combination. Don't try it. Then Larry further entertained us by reading random chapters from his very much read and dog-eared copy of Hollywood Babylon.

 

My experiences in Southern Cal have given a new meaning to the word "bizarre" to me.

 

 

You have a habit of finding trouble when you leave the Thistle Dew unescorted.

 

I apologize if all the racket is preventing you from getting some much needed rest after your night with Larry and the girls (Oh, and Tombstone) , but I've been up on the roof all day replacing tiles.

 

Norman was in an unusually foul mood this morning. He had a big night on the town planned yesterday, his first in years, but his date cancelled at the last minute. To make matters worse, Tombstone's latest rent check bounced, and he said we'll have to earn our keep around here. He asked me to take a look at a stubborn stain in one of the showers after I finish with the roof.

 

Tombstone graced us with a brief visit. He dropped of that VHS copy of Forbidden Paradise that you won in the poker game with Flynt last night.

 

I hope Tombstone seeks counseling for that chimp fetish. I spied that poor creature in the passenger seat, wearing a Bubba's Bar &amp; Grill t-shirt and a kufi. Very troubling, indeed.

 

Is Bubbles still alive?

Yes, I know. From now on we have to have some type of buddy system in place. I seem to find trouble even when I'm not looking for it. And staying (more like living at the rate this crisis is taking to resolve itself) at the Thistle Dew is trouble enough. Now with Normie in a bad mood - ditched by his chick and taken by a bounced check - I do believe it is time to relocate. I wouldn't advise the Flynt Estate. Of course, Substance, you are free to choose to stay there, but count me out. I'd rather go back to living in a pitched tent and waking up with sleeping bad hair and puffy eyelids at Wonderland (or is it Neverland? Hard to keep everything straight anymore - pretty soon I'll need an I.D. bracelet just to remember my own name!).

 

As for your friend Bubbles, I have no news. Might try calling the investigative reporter at the Grinder. They know everything.

 

Has anyone heard from Goober?

 

Lorraine, don't go wobbly now. There's not a vacant room left in town because of all the media gathered for the trial, and you can forget about returning to that tent. Someone must have stolen it after we abandoned the jailhouse grounds. I'm pretty sure I saw it pitched by the gates of Neverland yesterday afternoon. When I walked over to check it out, a curious figure emerged. He had a great mane of hair and spoke with a Manc accent, called himself "treeduck", I think. He was the only one who refused to sign my petition. You should have seen the look on his face when I offered him a stick of incense.

 

It looks like we'll have to make the best of the Thistle Dew.

I knew Treeduck would show up. He's a member of the BRAWL'rs...sumthin' is going on under the radar. He wouldn't hang at neverland..It's beneath his technical death metal sensibilities. Just wait Tony will show up just to curse at the dumbasses in front of Neverland with those sequined gloves.

 

He didn't look too happy in that tent, but all the rooms in town are spoken for. I'm sure Norman can make room for him at the Thistle Dew; maybe he can bunk with Kato.

What's with Lorraine and Kato? Always showing up looking windswept. Oh, been meaning to ask, has Norman asked to suck your toes yet? Dude's a perv I think!

[HomesickAlien]

Undoubtedly, one and all (what does the "all" add up to now? three?) are wondering where I've been.

 

All I can say is I was saved by Lakeisha and two of her dancing and ukulele playing Sisters.

 

On my way up to tea with Norman's mother, I became aware of a car horn beeping furiously. Lo and behold, there was Lakeisha and two of her cronies. She asked me where I was going. When I told her, she said that I shouldn't do that unless I wanted to wind up in a taxidermist office. I've learned not to ask any questions (for fear of hearing the answers), so I obediently hopped into the back seat and off we went.

 

Really, I should have at least asked where we were going because the next thing I knew we were driving up the endless driveway to Larry Flynt's estate. The first thing I saw was Tombstone chasing that chimpanzee in a negligee around the grounds. Very troublesome sight. We must have a talk with the man.

 

Larry very graciously greeted me and promised to be on his best behavior. We all have different definitions of "best" apparently, as mine does not line up with Larry's. Be that as it may, we spent an enjoyable evening watching old Pola Negri silent films and snacking on granola and carrot sticks. Wretched combination. Don't try it. Then Larry further entertained us by reading random chapters from his very much read and dog-eared copy of Hollywood Babylon.

 

My experiences in Southern Cal have given a new meaning to the word "bizarre" to me.

 

 

You have a habit of finding trouble when you leave the Thistle Dew unescorted.

 

I apologize if all the racket is preventing you from getting some much needed rest after your night with Larry and the girls (Oh, and Tombstone) , but I've been up on the roof all day replacing tiles.

 

Norman was in an unusually foul mood this morning. He had a big night on the town planned yesterday, his first in years, but his date cancelled at the last minute. To make matters worse, Tombstone's latest rent check bounced, and he said we'll have to earn our keep around here. He asked me to take a look at a stubborn stain in one of the showers after I finish with the roof.

 

Tombstone graced us with a brief visit. He dropped of that VHS copy of Forbidden Paradise that you won in the poker game with Flynt last night.

 

I hope Tombstone seeks counseling for that chimp fetish. I spied that poor creature in the passenger seat, wearing a Bubba's Bar &amp; Grill t-shirt and a kufi. Very troubling, indeed.

 

Is Bubbles still alive?

Yes, I know. From now on we have to have some type of buddy system in place. I seem to find trouble even when I'm not looking for it. And staying (more like living at the rate this crisis is taking to resolve itself) at the Thistle Dew is trouble enough. Now with Normie in a bad mood - ditched by his chick and taken by a bounced check - I do believe it is time to relocate. I wouldn't advise the Flynt Estate. Of course, Substance, you are free to choose to stay there, but count me out. I'd rather go back to living in a pitched tent and waking up with sleeping bad hair and puffy eyelids at Wonderland (or is it Neverland? Hard to keep everything straight anymore - pretty soon I'll need an I.D. bracelet just to remember my own name!).

 

As for your friend Bubbles, I have no news. Might try calling the investigative reporter at the Grinder. They know everything.

 

Has anyone heard from Goober?

 

Lorraine, don't go wobbly now. There's not a vacant room left in town because of all the media gathered for the trial, and you can forget about returning to that tent. Someone must have stolen it after we abandoned the jailhouse grounds. I'm pretty sure I saw it pitched by the gates of Neverland yesterday afternoon. When I walked over to check it out, a curious figure emerged. He had a great mane of hair and spoke with a Manc accent, called himself "treeduck", I think. He was the only one who refused to sign my petition. You should have seen the look on his face when I offered him a stick of incense.

 

It looks like we'll have to make the best of the Thistle Dew.

I knew Treeduck would show up. He's a member of the BRAWL'rs...sumthin' is going on under the radar. He wouldn't hang at neverland..It's beneath his technical death metal sensibilities. Just wait Tony will show up just to curse at the dumbasses in front of Neverland with those sequined gloves.

 

He didn't look too happy in that tent, but all the rooms in town are spoken for. I'm sure Norman can make room for him at the Thistle Dew; maybe he can bunk with Kato.

What's with Lorraine and Kato? Always showing up looking windswept. Oh, been meaning to ask, has Norman asked to suck your toes yet? Dude's a perv I think!

 

I can't explain Lorraine's windblown look, but she does have a habit of disappearing just about every night. First the Hare Krishnas and Laurel Canyon, then she goes to meet Norman's mother for tea, but ends up at Flynt's place. Now she's dressing up like one of the 7COG dancers. She hasn't been out here a week and she's already running with the wrong crowd. I'll have to keep an eye on her.

 

I haven't seen Norman since he went to Home Depot to buy more roofing tiles this afternoon. I think I'll put a chain lock on our door before he returns.

 

BTW, you'll hear no more mention of treeduck out of me. It's up to you to incorporate him into the story. I don't feel like dealing with his wrath should he stumble upon this thread. I'll stick to the Thistle Dew.

[HomesickAlien]

The Yukon Blade Grinder: Scorned Woman Edition

 

 

11.20.13

 

As the stars look down on the Yukon Blade Grinder, they certainly do it with a smile. Fortune favors the bold, and the Grinder put up a small fortune for the opportunity to interview the victims of the deranged “Spirits of Neverland Ranch” cult leader—Rush Goober. Safely making it back to the real world, the victims are ready to speak and let their story be told. Wanting to deal with a “legitimate” media outlet, the Yukon Blade Grinder was the only choice for these ladies to share their tale of woe and frustration. $10,000 bucks seemed a like pittance to help heal the wounds of this talented group. Only to happy to accept the money, Hustler founder Larry Flynt opened the door of opportunity for our oft imitated, yet never duplicated news beacon.

 

Great Expectations

 

At one point they were destined to be the highlight of attending a Rush show during the gigantic Clockwork Angels tour. Never before had the band been accompanied onstage. Eager to stretch beyond the familiar, Rush has never lacked ambition. Within minutes of the albums release, the epic “Seven Cities of Gold” skyrocketed to the top of the Canadian Adult Music charts, and it seemed only logical to pursue a duel threat of talent—exotic dance and virtuoso musicianship. Could such a combination be found?

 

Painstakingly scouring the depths of gentlemen’s clubs throughout the Great White North, Anthem Entertainment auditioned hundreds of women who fit the bill. A mere handful received the lifelong credential of being called a “Seven Cities of Gold” dancer. To stand in front of a talent-judging panel consisting of band manager Ray Danniels with Geddy, Alex and Neil was no cakewalk, and those who persevered through the gauntlet were proud to live out every Canadian woman’s dream.

 

Ever proactive, the dancers decided to have a “get to know each other” group survival outing with Les Stroud before band rehearsals. Knowing the skills of a performing musician are much different than just taking your clothes off in front of random men, they dedicated two months to learning each other’s instruments, just in case an emergency popped up and someone needed to pick up the slack. For hours upon hours they practiced on the frozen tundra of the Yukon, eating only what they found foraging, or from what they killed with their lethal arrows. Elk, moose, and their favorite red meat—beaver—had no chance against this group’s tenacious survival instincts and keen eye for the hunted.

 

Such dedication would be rewarded in someway they thought. No one wanted to be responsible for ruining the show. Spending hours upon hours in the gym toning up bodies and learning to dance in 7/8 time, the dancers put in the sweat to make the dream a fulfilling one. It seemed the axiom “perspiration causes inspiration” became the defining slogan for these minx of the Great White North. However, as rehearsals commenced and additional bit players were added to the mix, issues arose like towering flames of a funeral pyre.

 

The Flawed Couple

 

It was no surprise the SCOG dancers would be colleagues of another highly regarded performing group, the British Repertoires Acclaimed Wee Legion. Those words alone have spelled trouble for every movie requiring elite performing dwarfs, and the Yukon Blade Grinder has some experience with this crew. Supplying the needs for films such as the timeless Harry Potter saga, Lord of the Rings, Willow, and Time Bandits, the acting troupe is the lone giant of this tiny acting niche. Known for mayhem and mischief, yet in the opinion of Anthem Entertainment, well worth the potential snares of the talent vs. aggravation trade-off. The BRAWL’rs filled the unique role of bringing the story of Clockwork Angels to life. At first the union was joyful and full of wonder, as all parties felt excited about becoming a part of the Rush family.

 

Always professional when on the clock, the team enjoyed the nightlife a little too much it seems. Hitting the town after hours and appearing in tabloids dancing on tables at local establishments, whispers of doubt began to creep into company official’s minds as more and more chicanery arose. It turns out that was only the start of an ill-fated relationship destined to end up in flames.

 

The Interview: Part One

 

The Yukon Blade Grinder, with this unprecedented access, now answers some of the lingering questions alive in the mind of its readers. Upon entering the safe house supplied by Mr. Flynt we got the exclusive story behind the “Spirits of Neverland Ranch” debacle. Guided into a conference room we see the ladies looking fresh and healthy, ready to clear the air regarding this saga. With placards marked only by stage names, the Grinder starts the questions rolling, however there is but one spokeswoman for the group, Robin Redbreasts. In her right hand she holds six leashes, each one attached to a SCOG dancer. It’s obvious she’s in charge. With this first installment, we probe into the minds of the Seven Cities of Gold dancers:

 

YBG: Thanks for the opportunity to meet you all today. Wow, you all look great. I love the tattoos. Turns out you all appear to be “granola girls”, not afraid of living in the elements I see. Fair to say the world is waiting for some insight into this mess. One thing people are dying to know, why? Why did you follow Rush Goober to Neverland and become a part of this cult

RR: Well, it was just a tough situation. The Orbit Room melee marked a defining moment for us. When we found out the band was giving the BRAWL’rs these stimulants called Todem, it explained away some of the mystery for their overly aggressive behavior. It made our workplace environment more stressful than it needed to be. Alex thought it was this big freaking joke when he mentioned it to us when the BRAWL’rs band was playing.

 

YBG: What was the name of the make shift band of midgets?

RR: Oedipus Complex 4. Pretty good I gotta admit! Slamming dwarf metal.

 

YBG: Ok, back to my question. You all should be use to being the objects of affection, I mean, you’re strippers. What was the straw that broke the camel’s back?

RR: Yeah, we’re used to not having eye contact when we speak to men, always checking out our racks, but the BRAWL’rs are dwarfs. They’re looking up our skirts. Bit annoying. However Goobs didn’t do any of that. He seemed to understand our situation. So we felt he was “different” than the rest of the trolls. After we got canned, he offered up this plan to help dilute the pain and disappointment of being let go. It worked for a little while, that was until he wanted us to pose naked on the animals at the Ranch—that’s where we drew the line. f**k his calendar idea!

 

YBG: You trained endlessly for the CA gig. What was it like to play with the icons of Canada?

RR: Awesome at first. Every time we played our instruments it was a blast. We loved rocking out to Manhattan Project and The Wreckers. And the dancing was even better. We were practically drooling over the chance to do our thing at a Rush concert. It’s all men and we knew the tips would flow endlessly. When the subject came up about collecting the money, which was a real fly in the ointment, the band said those funds were going to be used for their pet charity project, the Toronto Urban Resource Developmental League. It’s a reform program for incarcerated teen gangbangers from inner city Toronto. They made a big deal out of it. Even brought in Mayor Rob Ford during one of our rehearsals. It was fun watching him dry hump Neil’s bass drum during YYZ. I wonder how he’s doing now?

 

YBG: Not too well. Now, back to the story at hand. There are rumors that Rush tried to distribute a medication to the dance group to help with PMS symptoms…I believe it was called “Hand over Fist”, is that true?

RR: Yes. To their credit it got rid of the cramps, but just gave us splitting headaches instead. Overall, most women prefer cramps over a splitting migraine

 

YBG: Hmmm OK. Now you were documented chanting what appear to be lyrics from a Rush album called Vapor Trails while incarcerated…why?

RR: Honestly after eating Michael Jackson’s nose, we felt we were imbued with special powers. We kept repeating the lyrics to “Secret Touch” and “One Little Victory” with the hopes that Goobs would telepathically sense our group chants, thus experiencing endless torture …did it work?

YBG: I dunno…it sure puzzled the hell out of the investigators.

 

YBG: ok, Larry Flynt posted your bail. You all know of him, I see that a couple of you have made films for him. What’s he like to hang out with?

RR: Oh just like the BRAWL’rs, except he’s not getting out of that wheelchair to harass us.

 

 

 

--End of Part I--

 

This is getting juicy folks with the most interesting of questions to come. The Yukon Blade Grinder has been invited to spend the evening here at the safe house, free from the parameters of an interview. I do hope my cohorts at the Thistle Dew Motel understand when I don’t show up this evening with dinner. This is earth-shaking material I’m uncovering and someone needs to step in the breach to report the news…I hope I’m up for the task![/size]

 

Bump it and they will read it.

[HomesickAlien]

THE THISTLE DEW: DAY 5 (or is it 6? )

 

Due to the fact that the Grinder's accounts seem to be bereft of funds, I spent the day in the hot California sun replacing stucco tiles on the roof in exchange for accommodations at this fine establishment. Norman claimed he was acrophobic, and issued instructions from the lawn. Thankfully, we ran out of tiles by mid-afternoon, whereupon he departed for the local Home Depot to purchase more. He's yet to return.

 

Tombstone informs me that Norman may have a foot fetish, but I fear his interests may extend to other appendages. I'd no sooner gotten on the roof when he encouraged me to remove my shirt. He said that it would be a shame for my vintage Vapor Trails t-shirt to become sweat stained, adding that my pallid midwestern skin could use a California tan. I reluctantly complied, and as the sweat dripped from my brow as the day progressed, I noticed Norman leering at me from below. I have to get that chain lock installed on our door.

 

I'm beginning to think that Lorraine's commitment to Goober's cause may be wavering. She's young, easily distracted, and impressionable. She spent most of the day in bed recovering from what she claims was an innocent night at Flynt's infamous compound. As I write this, she's prancing about the room in a 7COG dancer outfit that she purchased at the prodding of Lakeisha and her cohorts. At least I know her whereabouts tonight. If she insists on exploring our surroundings tomorrow, she'll have to be chaperoned.

 

I'm also beginning to question the loyalty of our European comrades. Greyfriar was suspiciously silent today, and I fear he may have abandoned his petition drive. H.P.L. has shown a curious indifference to Goober's plight, despite the fact that Tombstone offered to bring him to Santa Barbara in the Grinder's own Gulfstream V (how do they afford it?) if he could only make his way to Vladivostok.

 

There'll be no smoked eel for dinner tonight, as Tombstone works feverishly to uncover the dark truth behind the Neverland cult at the "safe house", otherwise known as Larry Flynt's Whoratorium. I suppose I could send Kato to the Hungry Jack's drive-up window. He does appreciate those Canadian quarters.

 

We endure all this for poor little Goober, all alone in that dank cell, with nothing but his delusional thoughts to keep him company. His mental state must be deteriorating by the hour. So sad.

Edited November 21, 2013 by substancewithoutstyle

[H. P. L.]

I'm also beginning to question the loyalty of our European comrades. Greyfriar was suspiciously silent today, and I fear he may have abandoned his petition drive. H.P.L. has shown a curious indifference to Goober's plight, despite the fact that Tombstone offered to bring him to Santa Barbara in the Grinder's own Gulfstream V (how do they afford it?) if he could only make his way to Vladivostok.

 

I can understand the great amount of stress OrsonSubstanceWelles is going under at the sinister Thistle Dew hotel. Somehow I can imagine King Diamond making a concept album about that hotel, calling it Abigail II or something. That said, I think it's highly counterproductive for our cause to start questioning our own commitment. Divide et Impera, remember? That's an Italian who came up with it. So please let's not start losing faith in ourselves, it's what the enemy (or judge Hi) wants. Keep in mind also that we're talking MASSIVE time zones difference, here.

Anyway, I can't speak for my esteemed colleague greyfriar, but as far as I'm concerned, no way I can enter Vladivostok without risking my own life. It goes back a few years, when a japanise movie crew was in town shooting a flick called "The Venus Hotel". I was with them as a troubleshooter, but really all I wanted was to bang the lead actress. Anyway, trouble started with local gangs and we all had to flee at the first lights of dawn, without shoes, to a fisher boat who brought us back to Fukuoka for 50 grand.

No way I can enter that cursed city again. I even suspect they are monitoring this thread right now. You don't mess with Russian mob.

It's back to plan B for me: find a political figure to stand up for Goober. Considering the Italian political class, it's like finding an untouched copy of Detective Comics 27 in the magazine rack of the Thistle Dew.

But I'll try.

[Tombstone Mountain]

I'm also beginning to question the loyalty of our European comrades. Greyfriar was suspiciously silent today, and I fear he may have abandoned his petition drive. H.P.L. has shown a curious indifference to Goober's plight, despite the fact that Tombstone offered to bring him to Santa Barbara in the Grinder's own Gulfstream V (how do they afford it?) if he could only make his way to Vladivostok.

 

I can understand the great amount of stress OrsonSubstanceWelles is going under at the sinister Thistle Dew hotel. Somehow I can imagine King Diamond making a concept album about that hotel, calling it Abigail II or something. That said, I think it's highly counterproductive for our cause to start questioning our own commitment. Divide et Impera, remember? That's an Italian who came up with it. So please let's not start losing faith in ourselves, it's what the enemy (or judge Hi) wants. Keep in mind also that we're talking MASSIVE time zones difference, here.

Anyway, I can't speak for my esteemed colleague greyfriar, but as far as I'm concerned, no way I can enter Vladivostok without risking my own life. It goes back a few years, when a japanise movie crew was in town shooting a flick called "The Venus Hotel". I was with them as a troubleshooter, but really all I wanted was to bang the lead actress. Anyway, trouble started with local gangs and we all had to flee at the first lights of dawn, without shoes, to a fisher boat who brought us back to Fukuoka for 50 grand.

No way I can enter that cursed city again. I even suspect they are monitoring this thread right now. You don't mess with Russian mob.

It's back to plan B for me: find a political figure to stand up for Goober. Considering the Italian political class, it's like finding an untouched copy of Detective Comics 27 in the magazine rack of the Thistle Dew.

But I'll try.

Europe answers the bell. A political figure IS needed to step in for Goobs. Someone who can add clarity. It's gotta be Berlisconi, or Rob Ford.

[losingit2k]

Honestly after eating Michael Jackson’s nose, we felt we were imbued with special powers. We kept repeating the lyrics to “Secret Touch” and “One Little Victory” with the hopes that Goobs would telepathically sense our group chants, thus experiencing endless torture …did it work?

I don't know if it worked, but the prison had reported that Goober was constantly visiting the ivory throne during that time.

Edited November 21, 2013 by losingit2k

[Tombstone Mountain]

Honestly after eating Michael Jackson’s nose, we felt we were imbued with special powers. We kept repeating the lyrics to “Secret Touch” and “One Little Victory” with the hopes that Goobs would telepathically sense our group chants, thus experiencing endless torture …did it work?

I don't know if it worked, but the prison had reported that Goober was constantly visiting the ivory throne during that time.

If only we had video of this

[losingit2k]

Honestly after eating Michael Jackson’s nose, we felt we were imbued with special powers. We kept repeating the lyrics to “Secret Touch” and “One Little Victory” with the hopes that Goobs would telepathically sense our group chants, thus experiencing endless torture …did it work?

I don't know if it worked, but the prison had reported that Goober was constantly visiting the ivory throne during that time.

If only we had video of this

[Tombstone Mountain]

Mmmmmmmm....very very telling Edited November 21, 2013 by Tombstone Mountain

[Tombstone Mountain]

Honestly after eating Michael Jackson’s nose, we felt we were imbued with special powers. We kept repeating the lyrics to “Secret Touch” and “One Little Victory” with the hopes that Goobs would telepathically sense our group chants, thus experiencing endless torture …did it work?

I don't know if it worked, but the prison had reported that Goober was constantly visiting the ivory throne during that time.

If only we had video of this

Goobs musta been standing on phone books to puke from that high up....Bravo...Vapor Troll post of the millennium Edited November 21, 2013 by Tombstone Mountain

[Tombstone Mountain]

Honestly after eating Michael Jackson’s nose, we felt we were imbued with special powers. We kept repeating the lyrics to “Secret Touch” and “One Little Victory” with the hopes that Goobs would telepathically sense our group chants, thus experiencing endless torture …did it work?

I don't know if it worked, but the prison had reported that Goober was constantly visiting the ivory throne during that time.

If only we had video of this

I can't like this enough...it deserves millions

[Lorraine]

Does anyone know where I can buy little bells to wear on my fingers?

[Tombstone Mountain]

Does anyone know where I can buy little bells to wear on my fingers?

Intimate Treasures just outside Smith Ave. I have found a possible option regarding hotels. How does "the Soak and Poke" sound?