Hello, I am a wealthy business man whose interests include comics and high risk ventures with no possible lucrative outcome. Perhaps you and I can be friends!
With proper investment, we can spend millions of dollars on comic printed on gold film, and charge them at outrageously large sums so that the common proletariat cannot possibly purchase them.
And them we melt the comics that don't sell into a gold bar, then sell that gold bar, to get money to buy more gold to print the comics on.
No, no. It was much simpler than that! You see, my father was an esteemed francium miner in Kenema, Sierra Leone—bread-winner for a family of four and a half. Due to the harsh conditions of the job one day he suffered an internal imbalance of cobalt 3+, entered a high grade manic depressive rage, and butchered my siblings and mother with a Heath Ledger bobble-head he had received from a vacationing tourist. Luckily, I managed to escape! After hearing my mother screaming bloody murder I ran away as quickly as possible, climbed into a water-tight barrel, and jettisoned myself onto the Moa River. After five and a half days the current brought me to Monrovia, Liberia. Famished, I made my way into the city and lived off whatever scraps I could salvage from the garbage. Desperate for money, I ventured into the Wanegizi mountain range and captured a rare type of Britannia Petite. I returned to Monrovia and traded that Britannia Petite for four young Champagne D’Argents. Although one of them died, I traded the remaining three for six Crème D’Argents. I traded two of them for nine Dwarf Hotots and the remainder for twelve Flemish Giants. By the end of the month I had $435 worth of rabbits. Then I was robbed by fiendish infidels. Luckily, I managed to regain my fortune by diving for pennies American tourists threw into a nearby fountain in the city square. One day I even got a quarter! After three long weeks I had accumulated $14.59. I traded the money for a crate of pitayas, traded the crate for a bag of shoestrings, the shoestrings for their equivalent amount in door knobs, and by the end of another long week I had a whole team of slaves at my bidding. I killed them, let them sit in the sun, then lashed their bloated bodies together into a raft and rode the trade currents into Boston, Massachusetts. I stowed away on several cruise ships along the way, of course! Once I had wheedled my way into getting a green card I legally changed my name from Zubah Sesay to Jim Smith, married a busty blonde woman, and began a lucrative career in the country music industry. When I hit the peak of my success I sold out, bought a plumbing industry, swapped that for a new chain of aquarium strip clubs, and today I own the largest French fry company in all of the Eastern United States.
Well, it all started with the beginning of the internet. Did you know I was the first person to say LOL online? As one of the original frequenters of Cyberia, I was privileged enough to own one of the first blogs that ever existed! I used it to write pastiches in the down periods of my whimsical musings. For example:
…Fräulein von Kulp May turn, her hand upon the door; I will not follow her. Nor Fresca. Nor That Gull.
Such activities were exquisite for me, you see, because—as you may have noticed—I have a stellar command of the English language and a copious verbiage! But…eventually the originality of it began to wear off. Despite the fact that every night I would dine with men who wore top hats, monocles, drank tea with their pinky sticking off into the air, said “I say!” quite frequently, and spelled curb as K-E-R-B, I felt lost and disillusioned. I had to reinvent my passion. How, I did not know. Then it came to me: acronyms! And numbers! Data related jargon could replace everyday grammar and words! So, for example, the former poem became:
4räu131n v0n ku7p May turn, h3r hand up0n th3 d00r; 1 w177 n0t f0770w h3r. N0r Fr3sca. N0r That Gu77. XD!
When the high society witnessed what I had done, they were enraged! Several of them even hired assassins to do me in! But when the masses witnessed my creations, they were astoundingly moved. I received a Pulitzer Prize for my recreation of the English language and was hired by Oxford to accompany archeological scouting missions. It was on one of these expeditions that I first laid eyes on Trajan’s Column. Are you familiar with it? It is a hundred foot tall monument in Rome with a primitive form of today’s comics chiseled into its body. When I saw the comics of the ancient world, I realized how meaningful the modern ones are. It is a misunderstood but powerful art that must be cultivated into the finest poetry and images man has ever known. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Such infernal vernacular! How dare you speak to me in such a tongue! And, Belsito, how dare you associate yourself with such common miscreants! Our deal is off. I will not stand for your galivanting comrades. Good day.
I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, BUT I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT IF YOU ARE MAKING FUN OF ME YOU'VE EARNED YOUSELF A ONE WAY TICKET TO THE BOTTOMLESS PIT OF HELL!
Were the pit bottomless Or the bottomless a pit, Then there might yet be a sliver of wit: But an oxymoron holds no distress As a pit with no bottom cannot be a pit.
Hello, I am a wealthy business man whose interests include comics and high risk ventures with no possible lucrative outcome. Perhaps you and I can be friends!
ReplyDeleteWith proper investment, we can spend millions of dollars on comic printed on gold film, and charge them at outrageously large sums so that the common proletariat cannot possibly purchase them.
ReplyDeleteAnd them we melt the comics that don't sell into a gold bar, then sell that gold bar, to get money to buy more gold to print the comics on.
Capital Idea! You truly are the spinning archetype of a spendthrift miser!
ReplyDeleteAnd--say--since we're going to be partners, would you like to know how I accumulated my vast fortune?
Through hard labor, dedication, innovation, and employee theft?
ReplyDeleteNo, no. It was much simpler than that!
ReplyDeleteYou see, my father was an esteemed francium miner in Kenema, Sierra Leone—bread-winner for a family of four and a half. Due to the harsh conditions of the job one day he suffered an internal imbalance of cobalt 3+, entered a high grade manic depressive rage, and butchered my siblings and mother with a Heath Ledger bobble-head he had received from a vacationing tourist. Luckily, I managed to escape! After hearing my mother screaming bloody murder I ran away as quickly as possible, climbed into a water-tight barrel, and jettisoned myself onto the Moa River.
After five and a half days the current brought me to Monrovia, Liberia. Famished, I made my way into the city and lived off whatever scraps I could salvage from the garbage.
Desperate for money, I ventured into the Wanegizi mountain range and captured a rare type of Britannia Petite. I returned to Monrovia and traded that Britannia Petite for four young Champagne D’Argents. Although one of them died, I traded the remaining three for six Crème D’Argents. I traded two of them for nine Dwarf Hotots and the remainder for twelve Flemish Giants. By the end of the month I had $435 worth of rabbits.
Then I was robbed by fiendish infidels. Luckily, I managed to regain my fortune by diving for pennies American tourists threw into a nearby fountain in the city square. One day I even got a quarter! After three long weeks I had accumulated $14.59.
I traded the money for a crate of pitayas, traded the crate for a bag of shoestrings, the shoestrings for their equivalent amount in door knobs, and by the end of another long week I had a whole team of slaves at my bidding. I killed them, let them sit in the sun, then lashed their bloated bodies together into a raft and rode the trade currents into Boston, Massachusetts. I stowed away on several cruise ships along the way, of course!
Once I had wheedled my way into getting a green card I legally changed my name from Zubah Sesay to Jim Smith, married a busty blonde woman, and began a lucrative career in the country music industry. When I hit the peak of my success I sold out, bought a plumbing industry, swapped that for a new chain of aquarium strip clubs, and today I own the largest French fry company in all of the Eastern United States.
I'm going throw up all over my internet.
ReplyDeletei feel sick from that, thank you.
Being the tycoon you are, where did your interest in comics come about through your adventures?
Well, it all started with the beginning of the internet. Did you know I was the first person to say LOL online? As one of the original frequenters of Cyberia, I was privileged enough to own one of the first blogs that ever existed! I used it to write pastiches in the down periods of my whimsical musings. For example:
ReplyDelete…Fräulein von Kulp
May turn, her hand upon the door;
I will not follow her. Nor Fresca. Nor
That Gull.
Such activities were exquisite for me, you see, because—as you may have noticed—I have a stellar command of the English language and a copious verbiage! But…eventually the originality of it began to wear off. Despite the fact that every night I would dine with men who wore top hats, monocles, drank tea with their pinky sticking off into the air, said “I say!” quite frequently, and spelled curb as K-E-R-B, I felt lost and disillusioned. I had to reinvent my passion. How, I did not know.
Then it came to me: acronyms! And numbers! Data related jargon could replace everyday grammar and words! So, for example, the former poem became:
4räu131n v0n ku7p
May turn, h3r hand up0n th3 d00r;
1 w177 n0t f0770w h3r. N0r Fr3sca. N0r
That Gu77. XD!
When the high society witnessed what I had done, they were enraged! Several of them even hired assassins to do me in! But when the masses witnessed my creations, they were astoundingly moved. I received a Pulitzer Prize for my recreation of the English language and was hired by Oxford to accompany archeological scouting missions.
It was on one of these expeditions that I first laid eyes on Trajan’s Column. Are you familiar with it? It is a hundred foot tall monument in Rome with a primitive form of today’s comics chiseled into its body. When I saw the comics of the ancient world, I realized how meaningful the modern ones are. It is a misunderstood but powerful art that must be cultivated into the finest poetry and images man has ever known. Nothing more. Nothing less.
yo man i got the stuf
ReplyDeleteGood heavens! Who are you?
ReplyDeleteSuch infernal vernacular! How dare you speak to me in such a tongue!
ReplyDeleteAnd, Belsito, how dare you associate yourself with such common miscreants! Our deal is off. I will not stand for your galivanting comrades.
Good day.
Beans, Jacob! Beans!
ReplyDeletedear god what has my blog manifested
ReplyDeleteA love of things that spin and flow,
ReplyDeleteThe remnants to the victors go.
SWEET JESUS! WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE ARE YOU ASSOCIATING YOURSELF WITH? DRUG LORDS! MURDEROUS STRIP CLUB OWNING MISERS!...COUPLET WRITERS!
ReplyDeleteI HOPE YOU KNOW THAT YOU'RE ALL GOING STRAIGHT TO HELL FOR SUPPORTING AN UNGODLY MEDIUM!
The minister, in her sermons,
ReplyDeleteGrasps in quotes and quips
At slippery fish
Named redemption and damnation
Like a bear slaps at salmon.
I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, BUT I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT IF YOU ARE MAKING FUN OF ME YOU'VE EARNED YOUSELF A ONE WAY TICKET TO THE BOTTOMLESS PIT OF HELL!
ReplyDeleteWere the pit bottomless
ReplyDeleteOr the bottomless a pit,
Then there might yet be a sliver of wit:
But an oxymoron holds no distress
As a pit with no bottom cannot be a pit.