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

[Tombstone Mountain]

More like a nightmare if you ask me.

Why do you say that? It's been a long, sweet, psych, sludgy dream... The kind Goobs has when he listens to the entire Popol Vuh discography...

 

PS: about Varanasi: no, actually I'm staying in a 5 star hotel far from the smelling city centre... but I needed integrity to write that piece...

A fever dream on steroids, with more legs than a bucket of chicken

[Tombstone Mountain]

Has Goober ever gone this long without posting? I'm really beginning to wonder what's happened to him.

Perhaps Goobs has never left. Perhaps he is the Billy Milligan type. Or perhaps he is the stealthy dreadlock-stylin' crabfaced alien hunting macho men in South America type. But instead of that continent he is using TRF. "Over here". "Turn around." Perhaps.

This is my theory...perhaps he's a Yukon Blade Grinder contributor.

Mine as well, although I hesitated to even venture the thought in public!

 

When this is over, I want to know who knew what, and when.

There is no 'over'. There is only the appearance of 'over'. There is no rushgoober. There is only the appearance of rushgoober. There is no no appearance of rushgoober. There is only the appearance of no no appearance of rushgoober

Actually, there's only me and you are all illusions.

 

No wait, there's not even me. There's a god child dreaming all of this while waiting to be born.

 

This entire thread has been a dream. . .

 

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/9/93/Newhartfinale.jpg/220px-Newhartfinale.jpg

A good dream. Not one negative post about vapor trails in a month and a half. No chode like behavior. Kinda nice. I do miss his little smurf on the sig

Edited December 19, 2013 by Tombstone Mountain

[Tombstone Mountain]

Has Goober ever gone this long without posting? I'm really beginning to wonder what's happened to him.

Perhaps Goobs has never left. Perhaps he is the Billy Milligan type. Or perhaps he is the stealthy dreadlock-stylin' crabfaced alien hunting macho men in South America type. But instead of that continent he is using TRF. "Over here". "Turn around." Perhaps.

This is my theory...perhaps he's a Yukon Blade Grinder contributor.

Mine as well, although I hesitated to even venture the thought in public!

 

When this is over, I want to know who knew what, and when.

There is no 'over'. There is only the appearance of 'over'. There is no rushgoober. There is only the appearance of rushgoober. There is no no appearance of rushgoober. There is only the appearance of no no appearance of rushgoober

 

:smoke:

 

After a month and a half in this thread, that should have made sense to me. :P

"Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense" - Buddha

 

Amazing that we have integrated Pope Francis and Buddha. This is a spiritual thread guys and gals

[H. P. L.]

More like a nightmare if you ask me.

Why do you say that? It's been a long, sweet, psych, sludgy dream... The kind Goobs has when he listens to the entire Popol Vuh discography...

 

PS: about Varanasi: no, actually I'm staying in a 5 star hotel far from the smelling city centre... but I needed integrity to write that piece...

 

It was a joke, HPL.

Do tell?

[Tombstone Mountain]

More like a nightmare if you ask me.

Why do you say that? It's been a long, sweet, psych, sludgy dream... The kind Goobs has when he listens to the entire Popol Vuh discography...

 

PS: about Varanasi: no, actually I'm staying in a 5 star hotel far from the smelling city centre... but I needed integrity to write that piece...

 

It was a joke, HPL.

Do tell?

She was being ironical

[H. P. L.]

More like a nightmare if you ask me.

Why do you say that? It's been a long, sweet, psych, sludgy dream... The kind Goobs has when he listens to the entire Popol Vuh discography...

 

PS: about Varanasi: no, actually I'm staying in a 5 star hotel far from the smelling city centre... but I needed integrity to write that piece...

 

It was a joke, HPL.

Do tell?

She was being ironical

Do tell? :P

[Tombstone Mountain]

More like a nightmare if you ask me.

Why do you say that? It's been a long, sweet, psych, sludgy dream... The kind Goobs has when he listens to the entire Popol Vuh discography

Popol Vuh...does anyone know what it is? It's the ancient Mayan apocalyptic book...it's all tying together now. The pope should be told...forces of Megadon are now brought into play. Goobs, as reported by the Yukon Blade Grinder, gave Megadon the middle finger at Neverland. Uh oh! He knows something.

Edited December 20, 2013 by Tombstone Mountain

[H. P. L.]

More like a nightmare if you ask me.

Why do you say that? It's been a long, sweet, psych, sludgy dream... The kind Goobs has when he listens to the entire Popol Vuh discography

Popol Vuh...does anyone know what it is? It's the ancient Mayan apocalyptic book...it's all tying together now. The pope should be told...forces of Megadon are now brought into play. Goobs, as reported by the Yukon Blade Grinder, gave Megadon the middle finger at Neverland. Uh oh! He knows something.

 

The Pope already knows, believe me... Remember his last words (and use google translate if you don't know greek).

 

[HomesickAlien]

I have nothing to add to the conversation today. I'm only posting in this thread to prevent it from slipping too far into oblivion. :(

 

Weren't we supposed to hear from Rob Ford a fortnight ago? Maybe he's too busy celebrating; the Canadian supreme court did strike down all of the anti-prostitution laws today.

[HomesickAlien]

More like a nightmare if you ask me.

Why do you say that? It's been a long, sweet, psych, sludgy dream... The kind Goobs has when he listens to the entire Popol Vuh discography...

 

PS: about Varanasi: no, actually I'm staying in a 5 star hotel far from the smelling city centre... but I needed integrity to write that piece...

 

5-star hotel? I hope you don't expect Tombstone to reimburse you for your stay there; he only pays for fleabag motels and hostels. I understand he has to cut costs because he's having the runway at Goatnut Municipal extended to accommodate the Grinder's GV.

[HomesickAlien]

TEASER FROM THE HUGUENOT FOR TOMORROW*

 

The hour is late, so this will be brief. I had an interesting conversation with Terry Brown today, and also received news about the pontiff's renegade dwarf, Holierthanthouy. Details to follow tomorrow night.

 

 

 

* It's a teaser because the next update from the Huguenot is still in an embryonic stage, and I have no intention of staying up until the wee hours writing it.

[Lorraine]

I have nothing to add to the conversation today. I'm only posting in this thread to prevent it from slipping too far into oblivion. :(

 

Weren't we supposed to hear from Rob Ford a fortnight ago? Maybe he's too busy celebrating; the Canadian supreme court did strike down all of the anti-prostitution laws today.

I'll help you out.

 

This is my contribution to keep the thread alive and it is something I have been pondering for some time now.

 

Does Tombstone know that the town he lives in in Tennessee doesn't exist?

 

Ponder this deeply. The ramifications of this are beyond eerie.

[HomesickAlien]

I have nothing to add to the conversation today. I'm only posting in this thread to prevent it from slipping too far into oblivion. :(

 

Weren't we supposed to hear from Rob Ford a fortnight ago? Maybe he's too busy celebrating; the Canadian supreme court did strike down all of the anti-prostitution laws today.

I'll help you out.

 

This is my contribution to keep the thread alive and it is something I have been pondering for some time now.

 

Does Tombstone know that the town he lives in in Tennessee doesn't exist?

 

Ponder this deeply. The ramifications of this are beyond eerie.

 

Shhh. . .

 

Don't tell him that. His psychiatrist said that it's best if we humor him at this stage of his treatment.

[Lorraine]

I have nothing to add to the conversation today. I'm only posting in this thread to prevent it from slipping too far into oblivion. :(

 

Weren't we supposed to hear from Rob Ford a fortnight ago? Maybe he's too busy celebrating; the Canadian supreme court did strike down all of the anti-prostitution laws today.

I'll help you out.

 

This is my contribution to keep the thread alive and it is something I have been pondering for some time now.

 

Does Tombstone know that the town he lives in in Tennessee doesn't exist?

 

Ponder this deeply. The ramifications of this are beyond eerie.

 

Shhh. . .

 

Don't tell him that. His psychiatrist said that it's best if we humor him at this stage of his treatment.

But does he exist???

[Tombstone Mountain]

The Yukon Blade Grinder

 

Rushgoober:

Canada’s Public Enemy #1

 

 

Gone are the days of lazing in the California sun, reporting on nose nibbling tarts and cults at Neverland Ranch. After witnessing the killing spree unleashed on escaped emus and countless press conferences with Sheriff Ron Howard, we make our way to the mother city of Canada—Toronto. The Yukon Blade Grinder has been on the scene since day one. The legendary story continues to bloat like a corpse floating in Lake Ontario, with sturgeons feeding on the body.

 

Today we land in God’s country.

 

Flying into this modern metropolis the sight is indeed magnificent. It’s North America’s fourth largest city. The buildings stand like giant Royal Mounties guarding Toronto. However, dominating the skyline—Anthem Entertainment International. The Yukon Blade Grinder is astonished, as the sight is beyond belief. In our world there are monuments that take our breath away: The Pyramids of Giza. Stonehenge. Giant’s Causeway of Northern Ireland. The hulking breasts of Dollywood in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. In this saga we are introduced to the newest wonder of the world.

 

Approaching by helicopter it can be seen from miles away—La Chouette du Canada, or “The Great Owl”.

 

It’s a 300ft statue of Canada’s national bird, perched atop of what is now known as Ray’s Place. With outstretched wings and fierce omniscient glare, the owl is Canada’s version of “Jesus over Rio”. As we get closer to A.E.I., we notice the owl has what appears to be a mouse hanging by its tail from the prodigious beak. This Yukon Blade Grinder reporter would be wrong. Turns out it’s actually a cage hanging by a chain. Residing inside is a dwarf, swaying in the wind.

 

“I think people who speak in metaphors oughta shampoo my crotch”

--Jack Nicholson

 

How the man arrived at this point is now a matter of public record: Award winning actor for his role as Gimli in The Lord of the Rings trilogy. A jilted former collaborator of Michael Jackson, whose malice toward Emmanuel Lewis rivals that of the ancient god’s anger toward Vesuvius. He was the cream of the crop of Piccadilly’s vaunted street performers. Goober was also an esteemed member of the British Repertoires Acclaimed Wee Legion, hired by A.E.I. to perform in the much-anticipated Clockwork Angels extravaganza. Everything seemed to be going well before the tour kicked off.

 

He had it all.

 

Fame.

Fortune.

The company of hot, adoring women.

 

And peas aplenty.

 

From being shot out of a cannon during “Headlong Flight”, to portraying the obedient and eager Cabin Boy for the “The Wreckers”, his talent what a commodity few possess.

 

Goober not only had access to the stars—he was a star.

 

Things turned for the worse one night at the Orbit Room, at the ill fated “Battle of the Bands.” This catastrophic incident led to a Jerry Springer like moment involving medications, strippers, pissed off dwarfs, and members of Rush. After the tumultuous, and untimely dismissal of the entire performing cast, all parties were understandably disappointed.

 

Disillusioned and angry (never a good combination for a dwarf) Rushgoober led the talented Seven Cities of Gold dancers on a spirit quest to his former residence—Neverland Ranch. His mission? Placing a curse on Canada’s most famous export via the occult consisting of naked women and exotic animals. The scene at Neverland was so odd, if Anton Lavey was alive, he’d be green with envy. All too happy to wash their hands of this depravity, the Santa Barbara Sheriff’s office dismissed all charges to deport said villain to Canada, where he faces perhaps the worst of circumstances—trial for “Impersonating a Rush Fan”.

 

“All roads lead to Rome. When traveling, have two swords with you at all times!”

--Marcus Arelius

On Philospy and all things Roman

 

However, the wrath of Canada isn’t the only issue on Rushgoober’s plate—he’s got the wrath of God to account for as well. Because of the cult’s actions, the spiritual world has a hand in stirring this bubbling cauldron of trouble. Time to call in the big guns. The “Peppy” pontiff, Pope Francis, came forward to show his allegiance to Vapor Trail fans across the globe with his epic Sermon on Mt. Nerd, while rocking his Neil Peart prayer cap. Indeed, a liturgical seismic shift with huge implications from a church that moves at glacial speed. To top that change of worship protocol, another sin was added to the list of “deadly sins”. Now there are eight. With that action taken, the Vatican declared that Goobs must repent of his vapor trolling ways, or face the burning flames of hell.

 

That’s all minor compared to what he now faces. Today, the rotund mayor of Toronto, Rob Ford, is at the center Rushgoober’s universe. Pass the crack pipe, call your favorite hooker, and chill with some Poutine, for today we gain clarity.

 

“How’s it going eh? I’m Bob McKenzie, this is my brother Doug”

--Bob McKenzie

 

What a curious monstrosity! Circling La Chouette du Canada, this Yukon Blade Grinder reporter is in awe.

 

“Biiiiiig f***ing bird eh? Welcome to the new Canada!” quipped our chopper pilot. The YBG got a chance to look into the owl’s huge eyes, as he paused to hover a moment. Clear windows allow a good view inside, but we couldn’t resist looking down to the swaying cage below where Goober flashes the middle digit, whilst showing us his hairy dwarfen arse. However, such behavior cannot detract from the magnitude and importance of the band’s new state of the art recording studio, now declared a national treasure, located in the head of the owl.

 

Pointing to the enormous left eye our pilot brings the YBG up to speed on the status of their latest recording. “That’s his new drum instructor rubbing his shoulders like he’s some sort of boxer. Neil’s been in there all week working on the new William Shatner album. We’ve never seen him throw so many sticks. He downs a shot of the Macallan when he screws up a take. The papers say he’s got drummer’s block. Kinda like writer’s block. It’s a growing concern in the city. Must be a tough assignment, but when it’s finished it’ll be bigger than anything Bryan Adams ever recorded.”

 

While flying into the Toronto it was hard not to notice the multiple Jumbotrons throughout the city, giving a voyeuristic peek into the world of Rush at work. On screen is the man possessing the “Hands of God”—Neil Peart, banging away on his kit and staring into the distance as if meditating on the fracas below—or not. Obviously he’s rehearsing to rehearse. Our friendly pilot was more than happy to give a complete update. Apparently Ged and Alex play paper football out of sheer boredom as Neil stumbles through take after take. “The Toronto Gambling Commission has established odds for their epic games. Geddy always wins. Man we got it made!”

 

Through the eyes of the owl we see genius at work.

 

“Out on the streets,

that’s where we meet”

--Ratt Round and Round

 

Down on the streets of Toronto is another story. Canucks dance around giant trash fires and torched cars as emotions rise with burning passion. Effigies of Rushgoober hang and cast grim shadows as Poutine vendors make a buck off of the hungry crowds. Apparently you can get it with or without bits of Michael Jackson’s nose (relax—they’re just cheese curds). This national dish is served in a collectable Vapor Trails bowl as mandated by the government’s Department of Arts & Musical Niceties. Sweet thought. Mementos mean something to every Canadian.

 

We land atop Anthem Entertainment International between the legs of this Colossus of Canada.

 

As we step out of the chopper, we’re greeted and ushered to the rooftop elevator by a panting William “the Shat” Shatner. We miss Bill, he’s a laugh. “Good to see you guys. Man it’s a zoo down there,” he said between gasps for breath. “I got…I got your emails...sorry I missed my deadline…I’ll have my article completed for the Blade Grinder soon…real busy getting Neil’s parts right now…he’s suddenly confused by 7/8. His drum teacher is doing everything he can to help (95 year old Leophus “Hambone” Jones). He can’t play in time. This is almost a national emergency.” We know Bill, we know!

 

After catching his breath The “Shat” holds up his hands to warn us of possible danger, while giving scatterbrained details of the digs of Canada’s golden boys. “Be careful on the streets. Not for the recovering alcoholic. Mayor Ford’s been giving away free Moosehead all week. Lots of drunken fans. Did you see their studio? They’ve even got pinball machines up there! Oh, uh, our transportation is waiting for us.” He then points to the edge of the rooftop. “You can take the vacuum chute down—it’s fastest. Or you can take the elevator. You’re choice.” Canadian hospitality at its finest. Without a moment’s hesitation, the YBG crew steps onto the elevator as doors open to that familiar Star Trek Enterprise “whoosh”.

 

The walls are lined with Gold and Platinum records. We noticed something strange. The music. The YBG had no idea a Muzak version of “Headlong Flight” existed. A bodiless voice greets us with a warm welcome to Anthem Tower. Making our way down to ground level, The Shat gives us a look and says, “You’re not gonna believe this!” We’re holding on with all our lives!

 

To Stand within the pleasure dome,

decreed by Kubla Khan

--Neil Peart 1977 (probably extremely high at the time)

 

Stepping off into the great lobby immediately captivates the Yukon Blade Grinder’s attention and stops us in our tracks. How could it not?

 

It’s a vaulted cathedral like ceiling containing a kaleidoscope of images capturing key moments in the band’s history. It’s also a library. People are reading books under beautiful, silken banners of each album cover. Moving Pictures is a like an AARP meeting and it also has the biggest gathering. Presto is vacant. Clockwork Angels is crowded with skate rats.

 

What also jumps out is an eerie replica of Michelangelo’s “Creation of Adam” themed fresco from the Sistine Chapel directly above, except it’s Neil, reaching for the hand of mere mortal Taylor Hawkins. Commemorating their appearance on The Muppet Show there’s a giant mural of Geddy, Alex, and Neil arm in arm with Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem from their stirring rendition of Xanadu. Fountains of honeydew flow from the cods of 12 statues, each one the renowned philosopher of their day. The honeydew spews on a replica of the RollingStone offices. This is no run of the mill building, this place is a place of history.

 

“C’mon or your going to miss his entrance. The Hobbit caller, that’s what Mayor Ford calls him, is ready to announce his arrival. Those announcements are always entertaining.” whispers Shatner, urging the YBG crew outside the main doors. As we step outside it’s pure chaos. The people of Toronto are obviously under a spell, and it’s not a good one. Bacchus Plateau must’ve looked like this as throngs of milling people are eating and drinking waiting for the event of the day—the grand appearance of Mayor Rob Ford. Loudspeakers crackle with sounds of a clearing throat throughout the streets. Citizens turn their attention to the Jumbotrons as the cage lowers from La Chouette du Canada’s beak.

 

Enter the People’s Champion:

Mayor Ford

 

A voice echoes through the canyons of concrete and steel, and it is that of the leader of the British Repertoires Acclaimed Wee Legion—Tony, the Pirate Captain:

 

“Ahem. Is this thing on…thump thump? Oh, right then. Hear Ye! Hear Ye! People of the Great White North. Please turn your attention to the Jumbotrons. Our great Caesar, ummm errrr, Mayor descends!”

 

Rushgoober’s cage gets lower and lower. Mayor Rob Ford, laughing like a madman, is standing on top wearing a Toronto Argonauts jersey and laurel around his head.

 

Tony continues his oratory.

 

“All hail our leader:

Leader of low taxes,

Benevolent giver of free booze,

Prime mover of prostitution,

Centurion of crack cocaine,

Prince of Poutine,

and advocate of the working man—Maaaaaayoooooor FOOOOOOORRRRDDDD. C’mon down!!!!”

 

The deafening roar of the crowd sends shockwaves through the air. Mayor Ford is clearly at home in front of the public. As the cage comes closer to his constituents they worship the rotund mound of ground round. The Mayor does a back flip off the cage landing next to Tony, who hands him the microphone.

 

“Thank you Toronto. Thank you. Thank you. No please, stop,” he repeated holding up his hands with malignant narcissism. “Today, we start another chapter in the history of our great city. In our midst we have a fallen man. Once a great man. Now fallen to the lowest depths of humanity with his Vapor Trolling. As member number 1 of the Toronto Backstage Club it is my duty to preside over any trial for impersonating a Rush fan.”

 

Mayor Ford silences the crowd and continues, “I’m the only man alive to endure the gauntlet of proving my love for Rush…need I remind you?” The crowd responds with an overwhelming YES! “Let’s see it again guys!” The Jumbotrons fill with footage from the Toronto show from last year. Mayor Ford humping Neil’s bass drum during the entirety of YYZ, once considered an impossible feat to accomplish by anyone with testicles, and there is only one who’s done it.

 

“How this trial will be conducted is not by judge and jury, but by raw athleticism, guts and courage. People all over the world have weighed in on this people, no pun intended. The Pope did his part, now we must do ours as faithful fans. Since this fiasco started the band hasn’t been right. Look, Pratt can’t even play in 7/8 time. Something must be done. By the power of Megadon, I establish this day as the beginning of the Inner-City Olympics: The British Repertoires Acclaimed Wee Legion vs. The Toronto Urban Resource Development League. Britain versus Canada. The winner determines the fate of this troll. You can give him his laptop so he can post at his leisure—time is ticking buddy! Better make it good.”

 

Loyal Yukon Blade Grinder readers here we are staring at the Full Monty. The world seems to have changed overnight. Megadon. Why the power of Megadon? Perhaps the press conference this week will help us understand the nature of these games and origin of this proclamation…no doubt it will shed light where darkness dwells.

 

Until next time, the Yukon Blade Grinder bids you adieu and farewell from the mother city of Canada!

Edited December 22, 2013 by Tombstone Mountain

[Babycat]

Oh my goodness! That's an incredible post! :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap:

[Tombstone Mountain]

Oh my goodness! That's an incredible post! :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap:

Of course it's all about the Babycat! Thx chick!

[HomesickAlien]

The Yukon Blade Grinder

 

Rushgoober:

Canada’s Public Enemy #1

 

 

Gone are the days of lazing in the California sun, reporting on nose nibbling tarts and cults at Neverland Ranch. After witnessing the killing spree unleashed on escaped emus and countless press conferences with Sheriff Ron Howard, we make our way to the mother city of Canada—Toronto. The Yukon Blade Grinder has been on the scene since day one. The legendary story continues to bloat like a corpse floating in Lake Ontario, with sturgeons feeding on the body.

 

Today we land in God’s country.

 

Flying into this modern metropolis the sight is indeed magnificent. It’s North America’s fourth largest city. The buildings stand like giant Royal Mounties guarding Toronto. However, dominating the skyline—Anthem Entertainment International. The Yukon Blade Grinder is astonished, as the sight is beyond belief. In our world there are monuments that take our breath away: The Pyramids of Giza. Stonehenge. Giant’s Causeway of Northern Ireland. The hulking breasts of Dollywood in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. In this saga we are introduced to the newest wonder of the world.

 

Approaching by helicopter it can be seen from miles away—La Chouette du Canada, or “The Great Owl”.

 

It’s a 300ft statue of Canada’s national bird, perched atop of what is now known as Ray’s Place. With outstretched wings and fierce omniscient glare, the owl is Canada’s version of “Jesus over Rio”. As we get closer to A.E.I., we notice the owl has what appears to be a mouse hanging by its tail from the prodigious beak. This Yukon Blade Grinder reporter would be wrong. Turns out it’s actually a cage hanging by a chain. Residing inside is a dwarf, swaying in the wind.

 

 

 

 

“I think people who speak in metaphors oughta shampoo my crotch”

--Jack Nicholson

 

How the man arrived at this point is now a matter of public record: Award winning actor for his role as Gimli in The Lord of the Rings trilogy. A jilted former collaborator of Michael Jackson, whose malice toward Emmanuel Lewis rivals that of the ancient god’s anger toward Vesuvius. He was the cream of the crop of Piccadilly’s vaunted street performers. Goober was also an esteemed member of the British Repertoires Acclaimed Wee Legion, hired by A.E.I. to perform in the much-anticipated Clockwork Angels extravaganza. Everything seemed to be going well before the tour kicked off.

 

He had it all.

 

Fame.

Fortune.

The company of hot, adoring women.

 

And peas aplenty.

 

From being shot out of a cannon during “Headlong Flight”, to portraying the obedient and eager Cabin Boy for the “The Wreckers”, his talent what a commodity few possess.

 

Goober not only had access to the stars—he was a star.

 

Things turned for the worse one night at the Orbit Room, at the ill fated “Battle of the Bands.” This catastrophic incident led to a Jerry Springer like moment involving medications, strippers, pissed off dwarfs, and members of Rush. After the tumultuous, and untimely dismissal of the entire performing cast, all parties were understandably disappointed.

 

Disillusioned and angry (never a good combination for a dwarf) Rushgoober led the talented Seven Cities of Gold dancers on a spirit quest to his former residence—Neverland Ranch. His mission? Placing a curse on Canada’s most famous export via the occult consisting of naked women and exotic animals. The scene at Neverland was so odd, if Anton Lavey was alive, he’d be green with envy. All too happy to wash their hands of this depravity, the Santa Barbara Sheriff’s office dismissed all charges to deport said villain to Canada, where he faces perhaps the worst of circumstances—trial for “Impersonating a Rush Fan”.

 

 

 

 

“All roads lead to Rome. When traveling, have two swords with you at all times!”

--Marcus Arelius

On Philospy and all things Roman

 

However, the wrath of Canada isn’t the only issue on Rushgoober’s plate—he’s got the wrath of God to account for as well. Because of the cult’s actions, the spiritual world has a hand in stirring this bubbling cauldron of trouble. Time to call in the big guns. The “Peppy” pontiff, Pope Francis, came forward to show his allegiance to Vapor Trail fans across the globe with his epic Sermon on Mt. Nerd, while rocking his Neil Peart prayer cap. Indeed, a liturgical seismic shift with huge implications from a church that moves at glacial speed. To top that change of worship protocol, another sin was added to the list of “deadly sins”. Now there are eight. With that action taken, the Vatican declared that Goobs must repent of his vapor trolling ways, or face the burning flames of hell.

 

That’s all minor compared to what he now faces. Today, the rotund mayor of Toronto, Rob Ford, is at the center Rushgoober’s universe. Pass the crack pipe, call your favorite hooker, and chill with some Poutine, for today we gain clarity.

 

 

 

 

“How’s it going eh? I’m Bob McKenzie, this is my brother Doug”

--Bob McKenzie

 

What a curious monstrosity! Circling La Chouette du Canada, this Yukon Blade Grinder reporter is in awe.

 

“Biiiiiig f***ing bird eh? Welcome to the new Canada!” quipped our chopper pilot. The YBG got a chance to look into the owl’s huge eyes, as he paused to hover a moment. Clear windows allow a good view inside, but we couldn’t resist looking down to the swaying cage below where Goober flashes the middle digit, whilst showing us his hairy dwarfen arse. However, such behavior cannot detract from the magnitude and importance of the band’s new state of the art recording studio, now declared a national treasure, located in the head of the owl.

 

Pointing to the enormous left eye our pilot brings the YBG up to speed on the status of their latest recording. “That’s his new drum instructor rubbing his shoulders like he’s some sort of boxer. Neil’s been in there all week working on the new William Shatner album. We’ve never seen him throw so many sticks. He downs a shot of the Macallan when he screws up a take. The papers say he’s got drummer’s block. Kinda like writer’s block. It’s a growing concern in the city. Must be a tough assignment, but when it’s finished it’ll be bigger than anything Bryan Adams ever recorded.”

 

While flying into the Toronto it was hard not to notice the multiple Jumbotrons throughout the city, giving a voyeuristic peek into the world of Rush at work. On screen is the man possessing the “Hands of God”—Neil Peart, banging away on his kit and staring into the distance as if meditating on the fracas below—or not. Obviously he’s rehearsing to rehearse. Our friendly pilot was more than happy to give a complete update. Apparently Ged and Alex play paper football out of sheer boredom as Neil stumbles through take after take. “The Toronto Gambling Commission has established odds for their epic games. Geddy always wins. Man we got it made!”

 

Through the eyes of the owl we see genius at work.

 

 

 

 

“Out on the streets,

that’s where we meet”

--Ratt Round and Round

 

Down on the streets of Toronto is another story. Canucks dance around giant trash fires and torched cars as emotions rise with burning passion. Effigies of Rushgoober hang and cast grim shadows as Poutine vendors make a buck off of the hungry crowds. Apparently you can get it with or without bits of Michael Jackson’s nose (relax—they’re just cheese curds). This national dish is served in a collectable Vapor Trails bowl as mandated by the government’s Department of Arts & Musical Niceties. Sweet thought. Mementos mean something to every Canadian.

 

We land atop Anthem Entertainment International between the legs of this Colossus of Canada.

 

As we step out of the chopper, we’re greeted and ushered to the rooftop elevator by a panting William “the Shat” Shatner. We miss Bill, he’s a laugh. “Good to see you guys. Man it’s a zoo down there,” he said between gasps for breath. “I got…I got your emails...sorry I missed my deadline…I’ll have my article completed for the Blade Grinder soon…real busy getting Neil’s parts right now…he’s suddenly confused by 7/8. His drum teacher is doing everything he can to help (95 year old Leophus “Hambone” Jones). He can’t play in time. This is almost a national emergency.” We know Bill, we know!

 

After catching his breath The “Shat” holds up his hands to warn us of possible danger, while giving scatterbrained details of the digs of Canada’s golden boys. “Be careful on the streets. Not for the recovering alcoholic. Mayor Ford’s been giving away free Moosehead all week. Lots of drunken fans. Did you see their studio? They’ve even got pinball machines up there! Oh, uh, our transportation is waiting for us.” He then points to the edge of the rooftop. “You can take the vacuum chute down—it’s fastest. Or you can take the elevator. You’re choice.” Canadian hospitality at its finest. Without a moment’s hesitation, the YBG crew steps onto the elevator as doors open to that familiar Star Trek Enterprise “whoosh”.

 

The walls are lined with Gold and Platinum records. We noticed something strange. The music. The YBG had no idea a Muzak version of “Headlong Flight” existed. A bodiless voice greets us with a warm welcome to Anthem Tower. Making our way down to ground level, The Shat gives us a look and says, “You’re not gonna believe this!” We’re holding on with all our lives!

 

 

 

 

To Stand within the pleasure dome,

decreed by Kubla Khan

--Neil Peart 1977 (probably extremely high at the time)

 

Stepping off into the great lobby immediately captivates the Yukon Blade Grinder’s attention and stops us in our tracks. How could it not?

 

It’s a vaulted cathedral like ceiling containing a kaleidoscope of images capturing key moments in the band’s history. It’s also a library. People are reading books under beautiful, silken banners of each album cover. Moving Pictures is a like an AARP meeting and it also has the biggest gathering. Presto is vacant. Clockwork Angels is crowded with skate rats.

 

What also jumps out is an eerie replica of Michelangelo’s “Creation of Adam” themed fresco from the Sistine Chapel directly above, except it’s Neil, reaching for the hand of mere mortal Taylor Hawkins. Commemorating their appearance on The Muppet Show there’s a giant mural of Geddy, Alex, and Neil arm in arm with Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem from their stirring rendition of Xanadu. Fountains of honeydew flow from the cods of 12 statues, each one the renowned philosopher of their day. The honeydew spews on a replica of the RollingStone offices. This is no run of the mill building, this place is a place of history.

 

“C’mon or your going to miss his entrance. The Hobbit caller, that’s what Mayor Ford calls him, is ready to announce his arrival. Those announcements are always entertaining.” whispers Shatner, urging the YBG crew outside the main doors. As we step outside it’s pure chaos. The people of Toronto are obviously under a spell, and it’s not a good one. Bacchus Plateau must’ve looked like this as throngs of milling people are eating and drinking waiting for the event of the day—the grand appearance of Mayor Rob Ford. Loudspeakers crackle with sounds of a clearing throat throughout the streets. Citizens turn their attention to the Jumbotrons as the cage lowers from La Chouette du Canada’s beak.

 

 

 

 

Enter the People’s Champion:

Mayor Ford

 

A voice echoes through the canyons of concrete and steel, and it is that of the leader of the British Repertoires Acclaimed Wee Legion—Tony, the Pirate Captain:

 

“Ahem. Is this thing on…thump thump? Oh, right then. Hear Ye! Hear Ye! People of the Great White North. Please turn your attention to the Jumbotrons. Our great Caesar, ummm errrr, Mayor descends!”

 

Rushgoober’s cage gets lower and lower. Mayor Rob Ford, laughing like a madman, is standing on top wearing a Toronto Argonauts jersey and laurel around his head.

 

Tony continues his oratory.

 

“All hail our leader:

Leader of low taxes,

Benevolent giver of free booze,

Prime mover of prostitution,

Centurion of crack cocaine,

Prince of Poutine,

and advocate of the working man—Maaaaaayoooooor FOOOOOOORRRRDDDD. C’mon down!!!!”

 

The deafening roar of the crowd sends shockwaves through the air. Mayor Ford is clearly at home in front of the public. As the cage comes closer to his constituents they worship the rotund mound of ground round. The Mayor does a back flip off the cage landing next to Tony, who hands him the microphone.

 

“Thank you Toronto. Thank you. Thank you. No please, stop,” he repeated holding up his hands with malignant narcissism. “Today, we start another chapter in the history of our great city. In our midst we have a fallen man. Once a great man. Now fallen to the lowest depths of humanity with his Vapor Trolling. As member number 1 of the Toronto Backstage Club it is my duty to preside over any trial for impersonating a Rush fan.”

 

Mayor Ford silences the crowd and continues, “I’m the only man alive to endure the gauntlet of proving my love for Rush…need I remind you?” The crowd responds with an overwhelming YES! “Let’s see it again guys!” The Jumbotrons fill with footage from the Toronto show from last year. Mayor Ford humping Neil’s bass drum during the entirety of YYZ, once considered an impossible feat to accomplish by anyone with testicles, and there is only one who’s done it.

 

“How this trial will be conducted is not by judge and jury, but by raw athleticism, guts and courage. People all over the world have weighed in on this people, no pun intended. The Pope did his part, now we must do ours as faithful fans. Since this fiasco started the band hasn’t been right. Look, Pratt can’t even play in 7/8 time. Something must be done. By the power of Megadon, I establish this day as the beginning of the Inner-City Olympics: The British Repertoires Acclaimed Wee Legion vs. The Toronto Urban Resource Development League. Britain versus Canada. The winner determines the fate of this troll. You can give him his laptop so he can post at his leisure—time is ticking buddy! Better make it good.”

 

Loyal Yukon Blade Grinder readers here we are staring at the Full Monty. The world seems to have changed overnight. Megadon. Why the power of Megadon? Perhaps the press conference this week will help us understand the nature of these games and origin of this proclamation…no doubt it will shed light where darkness dwells.

 

Until next time, the Yukon Blade Grinder bids you adieu and farewell from the mother city of Canada!

 

 

I think that was the funniest one yet. :ebert:

[Tombstone Mountain]

The Yukon Blade Grinder

 

Rushgoober:

Canada’s Public Enemy #1

 

 

Gone are the days of lazing in the California sun, reporting on nose nibbling tarts and cults at Neverland Ranch. After witnessing the killing spree unleashed on escaped emus and countless press conferences with Sheriff Ron Howard, we make our way to the mother city of Canada—Toronto. The Yukon Blade Grinder has been on the scene since day one. The legendary story continues to bloat like a corpse floating in Lake Ontario, with sturgeons feeding on the body.

 

Today we land in God’s country.

 

Flying into this modern metropolis the sight is indeed magnificent. It’s North America’s fourth largest city. The buildings stand like giant Royal Mounties guarding Toronto. However, dominating the skyline—Anthem Entertainment International. The Yukon Blade Grinder is astonished, as the sight is beyond belief. In our world there are monuments that take our breath away: The Pyramids of Giza. Stonehenge. Giant’s Causeway of Northern Ireland. The hulking breasts of Dollywood in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. In this saga we are introduced to the newest wonder of the world.

 

Approaching by helicopter it can be seen from miles away—La Chouette du Canada, or “The Great Owl”.

 

It’s a 300ft statue of Canada’s national bird, perched atop of what is now known as Ray’s Place. With outstretched wings and fierce omniscient glare, the owl is Canada’s version of “Jesus over Rio”. As we get closer to A.E.I., we notice the owl has what appears to be a mouse hanging by its tail from the prodigious beak. This Yukon Blade Grinder reporter would be wrong. Turns out it’s actually a cage hanging by a chain. Residing inside is a dwarf, swaying in the wind.

 

 

 

 

“I think people who speak in metaphors oughta shampoo my crotch”

--Jack Nicholson

 

How the man arrived at this point is now a matter of public record: Award winning actor for his role as Gimli in The Lord of the Rings trilogy. A jilted former collaborator of Michael Jackson, whose malice toward Emmanuel Lewis rivals that of the ancient god’s anger toward Vesuvius. He was the cream of the crop of Piccadilly’s vaunted street performers. Goober was also an esteemed member of the British Repertoires Acclaimed Wee Legion, hired by A.E.I. to perform in the much-anticipated Clockwork Angels extravaganza. Everything seemed to be going well before the tour kicked off.

 

He had it all.

 

Fame.

Fortune.

The company of hot, adoring women.

 

And peas aplenty.

 

From being shot out of a cannon during “Headlong Flight”, to portraying the obedient and eager Cabin Boy for the “The Wreckers”, his talent what a commodity few possess.

 

Goober not only had access to the stars—he was a star.

 

Things turned for the worse one night at the Orbit Room, at the ill fated “Battle of the Bands.” This catastrophic incident led to a Jerry Springer like moment involving medications, strippers, pissed off dwarfs, and members of Rush. After the tumultuous, and untimely dismissal of the entire performing cast, all parties were understandably disappointed.

 

Disillusioned and angry (never a good combination for a dwarf) Rushgoober led the talented Seven Cities of Gold dancers on a spirit quest to his former residence—Neverland Ranch. His mission? Placing a curse on Canada’s most famous export via the occult consisting of naked women and exotic animals. The scene at Neverland was so odd, if Anton Lavey was alive, he’d be green with envy. All too happy to wash their hands of this depravity, the Santa Barbara Sheriff’s office dismissed all charges to deport said villain to Canada, where he faces perhaps the worst of circumstances—trial for “Impersonating a Rush Fan”.

 

 

 

 

“All roads lead to Rome. When traveling, have two swords with you at all times!”

--Marcus Arelius

On Philospy and all things Roman

 

However, the wrath of Canada isn’t the only issue on Rushgoober’s plate—he’s got the wrath of God to account for as well. Because of the cult’s actions, the spiritual world has a hand in stirring this bubbling cauldron of trouble. Time to call in the big guns. The “Peppy” pontiff, Pope Francis, came forward to show his allegiance to Vapor Trail fans across the globe with his epic Sermon on Mt. Nerd, while rocking his Neil Peart prayer cap. Indeed, a liturgical seismic shift with huge implications from a church that moves at glacial speed. To top that change of worship protocol, another sin was added to the list of “deadly sins”. Now there are eight. With that action taken, the Vatican declared that Goobs must repent of his vapor trolling ways, or face the burning flames of hell.

 

That’s all minor compared to what he now faces. Today, the rotund mayor of Toronto, Rob Ford, is at the center Rushgoober’s universe. Pass the crack pipe, call your favorite hooker, and chill with some Poutine, for today we gain clarity.

 

 

 

 

“How’s it going eh? I’m Bob McKenzie, this is my brother Doug”

--Bob McKenzie

 

What a curious monstrosity! Circling La Chouette du Canada, this Yukon Blade Grinder reporter is in awe.

 

“Biiiiiig f***ing bird eh? Welcome to the new Canada!” quipped our chopper pilot. The YBG got a chance to look into the owl’s huge eyes, as he paused to hover a moment. Clear windows allow a good view inside, but we couldn’t resist looking down to the swaying cage below where Goober flashes the middle digit, whilst showing us his hairy dwarfen arse. However, such behavior cannot detract from the magnitude and importance of the band’s new state of the art recording studio, now declared a national treasure, located in the head of the owl.

 

Pointing to the enormous left eye our pilot brings the YBG up to speed on the status of their latest recording. “That’s his new drum instructor rubbing his shoulders like he’s some sort of boxer. Neil’s been in there all week working on the new William Shatner album. We’ve never seen him throw so many sticks. He downs a shot of the Macallan when he screws up a take. The papers say he’s got drummer’s block. Kinda like writer’s block. It’s a growing concern in the city. Must be a tough assignment, but when it’s finished it’ll be bigger than anything Bryan Adams ever recorded.”

 

While flying into the Toronto it was hard not to notice the multiple Jumbotrons throughout the city, giving a voyeuristic peek into the world of Rush at work. On screen is the man possessing the “Hands of God”—Neil Peart, banging away on his kit and staring into the distance as if meditating on the fracas below—or not. Obviously he’s rehearsing to rehearse. Our friendly pilot was more than happy to give a complete update. Apparently Ged and Alex play paper football out of sheer boredom as Neil stumbles through take after take. “The Toronto Gambling Commission has established odds for their epic games. Geddy always wins. Man we got it made!”

 

Through the eyes of the owl we see genius at work.

 

 

 

 

“Out on the streets,

that’s where we meet”

--Ratt Round and Round

 

Down on the streets of Toronto is another story. Canucks dance around giant trash fires and torched cars as emotions rise with burning passion. Effigies of Rushgoober hang and cast grim shadows as Poutine vendors make a buck off of the hungry crowds. Apparently you can get it with or without bits of Michael Jackson’s nose (relax—they’re just cheese curds). This national dish is served in a collectable Vapor Trails bowl as mandated by the government’s Department of Arts & Musical Niceties. Sweet thought. Mementos mean something to every Canadian.

 

We land atop Anthem Entertainment International between the legs of this Colossus of Canada.

 

As we step out of the chopper, we’re greeted and ushered to the rooftop elevator by a panting William “the Shat” Shatner. We miss Bill, he’s a laugh. “Good to see you guys. Man it’s a zoo down there,” he said between gasps for breath. “I got…I got your emails...sorry I missed my deadline…I’ll have my article completed for the Blade Grinder soon…real busy getting Neil’s parts right now…he’s suddenly confused by 7/8. His drum teacher is doing everything he can to help (95 year old Leophus “Hambone” Jones). He can’t play in time. This is almost a national emergency.” We know Bill, we know!

 

After catching his breath The “Shat” holds up his hands to warn us of possible danger, while giving scatterbrained details of the digs of Canada’s golden boys. “Be careful on the streets. Not for the recovering alcoholic. Mayor Ford’s been giving away free Moosehead all week. Lots of drunken fans. Did you see their studio? They’ve even got pinball machines up there! Oh, uh, our transportation is waiting for us.” He then points to the edge of the rooftop. “You can take the vacuum chute down—it’s fastest. Or you can take the elevator. You’re choice.” Canadian hospitality at its finest. Without a moment’s hesitation, the YBG crew steps onto the elevator as doors open to that familiar Star Trek Enterprise “whoosh”.

 

The walls are lined with Gold and Platinum records. We noticed something strange. The music. The YBG had no idea a Muzak version of “Headlong Flight” existed. A bodiless voice greets us with a warm welcome to Anthem Tower. Making our way down to ground level, The Shat gives us a look and says, “You’re not gonna believe this!” We’re holding on with all our lives!

 

 

 

 

To Stand within the pleasure dome,

decreed by Kubla Khan

--Neil Peart 1977 (probably extremely high at the time)

 

Stepping off into the great lobby immediately captivates the Yukon Blade Grinder’s attention and stops us in our tracks. How could it not?

 

It’s a vaulted cathedral like ceiling containing a kaleidoscope of images capturing key moments in the band’s history. It’s also a library. People are reading books under beautiful, silken banners of each album cover. Moving Pictures is a like an AARP meeting and it also has the biggest gathering. Presto is vacant. Clockwork Angels is crowded with skate rats.

 

What also jumps out is an eerie replica of Michelangelo’s “Creation of Adam” themed fresco from the Sistine Chapel directly above, except it’s Neil, reaching for the hand of mere mortal Taylor Hawkins. Commemorating their appearance on The Muppet Show there’s a giant mural of Geddy, Alex, and Neil arm in arm with Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem from their stirring rendition of Xanadu. Fountains of honeydew flow from the cods of 12 statues, each one the renowned philosopher of their day. The honeydew spews on a replica of the RollingStone offices. This is no run of the mill building, this place is a place of history.

 

“C’mon or your going to miss his entrance. The Hobbit caller, that’s what Mayor Ford calls him, is ready to announce his arrival. Those announcements are always entertaining.” whispers Shatner, urging the YBG crew outside the main doors. As we step outside it’s pure chaos. The people of Toronto are obviously under a spell, and it’s not a good one. Bacchus Plateau must’ve looked like this as throngs of milling people are eating and drinking waiting for the event of the day—the grand appearance of Mayor Rob Ford. Loudspeakers crackle with sounds of a clearing throat throughout the streets. Citizens turn their attention to the Jumbotrons as the cage lowers from La Chouette du Canada’s beak.

 

 

 

 

Enter the People’s Champion:

Mayor Ford

 

A voice echoes through the canyons of concrete and steel, and it is that of the leader of the British Repertoires Acclaimed Wee Legion—Tony, the Pirate Captain:

 

“Ahem. Is this thing on…thump thump? Oh, right then. Hear Ye! Hear Ye! People of the Great White North. Please turn your attention to the Jumbotrons. Our great Caesar, ummm errrr, Mayor descends!”

 

Rushgoober’s cage gets lower and lower. Mayor Rob Ford, laughing like a madman, is standing on top wearing a Toronto Argonauts jersey and laurel around his head.

 

Tony continues his oratory.

 

“All hail our leader:

Leader of low taxes,

Benevolent giver of free booze,

Prime mover of prostitution,

Centurion of crack cocaine,

Prince of Poutine,

and advocate of the working man—Maaaaaayoooooor FOOOOOOORRRRDDDD. C’mon down!!!!”

 

The deafening roar of the crowd sends shockwaves through the air. Mayor Ford is clearly at home in front of the public. As the cage comes closer to his constituents they worship the rotund mound of ground round. The Mayor does a back flip off the cage landing next to Tony, who hands him the microphone.

 

“Thank you Toronto. Thank you. Thank you. No please, stop,” he repeated holding up his hands with malignant narcissism. “Today, we start another chapter in the history of our great city. In our midst we have a fallen man. Once a great man. Now fallen to the lowest depths of humanity with his Vapor Trolling. As member number 1 of the Toronto Backstage Club it is my duty to preside over any trial for impersonating a Rush fan.”

 

Mayor Ford silences the crowd and continues, “I’m the only man alive to endure the gauntlet of proving my love for Rush…need I remind you?” The crowd responds with an overwhelming YES! “Let’s see it again guys!” The Jumbotrons fill with footage from the Toronto show from last year. Mayor Ford humping Neil’s bass drum during the entirety of YYZ, once considered an impossible feat to accomplish by anyone with testicles, and there is only one who’s done it.

 

“How this trial will be conducted is not by judge and jury, but by raw athleticism, guts and courage. People all over the world have weighed in on this people, no pun intended. The Pope did his part, now we must do ours as faithful fans. Since this fiasco started the band hasn’t been right. Look, Pratt can’t even play in 7/8 time. Something must be done. By the power of Megadon, I establish this day as the beginning of the Inner-City Olympics: The British Repertoires Acclaimed Wee Legion vs. The Toronto Urban Resource Development League. Britain versus Canada. The winner determines the fate of this troll. You can give him his laptop so he can post at his leisure—time is ticking buddy! Better make it good.”

 

Loyal Yukon Blade Grinder readers here we are staring at the Full Monty. The world seems to have changed overnight. Megadon. Why the power of Megadon? Perhaps the press conference this week will help us understand the nature of these games and origin of this proclamation…no doubt it will shed light where darkness dwells.

 

Until next time, the Yukon Blade Grinder bids you adieu and farewell from the mother city of Canada!

 

 

I think that was the funniest one yet. :ebert:

What can I say? Your pasta work inspired me. Sorry it took so long. We're coasting to 10,000 hits

[H. P. L.]

This one raised the odds once again. Next one I'll have to write it in 7/11.

 

Francis is busy with Christmas preparations, I'll have this sent to him.

 

In the meantime, everyone, watch out for Holierthanthouy, wherever he might turn out. he's a tricky one.

[Tombstone Mountain]

This one raised the odds once again. Next one I'll have to write it in 7/11.

 

Francis is busy with Christmas preparations, I'll have this sent to him.

 

In the meantime, everyone, watch out for Holierthanthouy, wherever he might turn out. he's a tricky one.

 

Yes it has. Megadon—what to make of it? What does Goobs know?

 

Canada seems to be under the spell of a madman. Who's gonna step away from finger cymbals and pasta art to enter into the world of the Inner-city olympics?

 

The end is near, yet seems so far away

[HomesickAlien]

This one raised the odds once again. Next one I'll have to write it in 7/11.

 

Francis is busy with Christmas preparations, I'll have this sent to him.

 

In the meantime, everyone, watch out for Holierthanthouy, wherever he might turn out. he's a tricky one.

 

Holierthanthouy (for some reason I always feel compelled to type hobbledehoy :laughing yellow guy: ) is closer to Varanasi than you might think.

[H. P. L.]

Meanwhile, yesterday, in Parma...

 

http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3815/11500524355_655ec75371_z.jpg

[Tombstone Mountain]

Meanwhile, yesterday, in Parma...

 

http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3815/11500524355_655ec75371_z.jpg

 

Is this the secret alarm for the YBG Men? What are the YBG Men doing? Silence is not golden.

[Tombstone Mountain]

This one raised the odds once again. Next one I'll have to write it in 7/11.

 

Francis is busy with Christmas preparations, I'll have this sent to him.

 

In the meantime, everyone, watch out for Holierthanthouy, wherever he might turn out. he's a tricky one.

 

Holierthanthouy (for some reason I always feel compelled to type hobbledehoy :laughing yellow guy: ) is closer to Varanasi than you might think.

Hey that's what my dad used to call me!