Defies gravity
Can spit really far
Almost touch my toes
Can cut a fly's legs off with a beer cap from 20 paces
Know how to say useless stuff and prattle on in a dozen languages
Don't know when to shut up
Favorite Quotes
To be for or against the Plague, it's much the same thing.
Fiddledee, how a body shure do get around - just 2 weeks ago I was in Mississippi and now I'm all the way to Tennessee...
Eat or Be Eaten
Better to be pissed off than pissed on.
Biography
Born in swaddling clothes (designer, of course) at the confluence of big waters, my first recorded words were "Dad, can I have the keys to the car?" Raised a Southern Pedestrian, my musical talents were recognized at an early age, leading to my being exiled to the shed out back with a stack of books that became my eddykayshun - advanced readin', writin' & ritmytick, creating a major quandary of "what will I do, oh what will I do?" (Gunslinger)
As an old black man advised in song, "You Gotta Move", so move I did, traveling the byways sideways even a lot of driveways, picking up sticks and psychological tics, even movin' to Beverlee through a quaint misunderstanding of the seriousness of TV series, until finally I blew up so big the carry nation incarnation tarnation couldn't hold me no more, so I fixed my sights on yonder sitar, and like Queequeg and Paul Bowles and one of those abducted kids by the Pied Piper of Hamelin, I ventured forth to the larger world, pickin' and grinnin', doin' me some reckonin' and naughts from naughts, occasionally rightin', building me some buildings and wiring and just trying to understand the babble comin' out of people's mouths and heads, I finally ended up in what Rummy quaintly calls "New Europe", which ain't so new from what I sees, but that pit in my stomach from lack-of-moving-sickness finally disappeared, and instead I sit behind a whopping big desk stacked with missives from all the chiefs with big whampum around the world telling me "what's going on". Which seems like a load of boolshit to me, but I guess that's what keeps me busy and entertained now, separatin' the weeds from the chapstick.
So my name is Perry Keys, or Peracles to you, and since my mammy always said, "say please and thank you", I added the please, but I'm holdin' back on that thankee until I feel you've earned it. But do welcome, and I hope we's a gonna have a real good time. It all starts with, "I wuz born a poor young white chile livin' in the South..." and we cycle through again, like Nietzsche and his infernal regurgence. So enjoy, and let's spin a spell...
Nice elegy by Dennis Hartley for Yaphet Kotto - one of those faces you knew only too well even if you didn't know his name, along with this gem on how not to catch a cab in New York, courtesy Michael Moore.
The story of a mass murderer with a huge amount of magnetism and extreme ability to make things go his way - whether a Jeffrey Epstein, a Donald Trump, or a more obscure minor tyrant, it's a disturbing reminder of how easy it is for some to turn on the charm and extortion, contrary to our lawful rational universe expectations.
Facebook gave $250,000 in 2018 to help fund Weave, Brooks' project at the Institute. A few months later Brooks began promoting Weave in the Times. He never disclosed the FB money, his salary, or other funders. Weave received just over 1.5 million in 2018, the latest $$ available.
Increased levels of lockdown resentment and paranoia could drive a whole new industry and genre.
Maybe the Joker was right - that which does not kill us makes us stranger.
seems like this guy’s marriage has some issues beyond his wife being able to go do things. https://t.co/Cg86WVyfxJ