2003-10-19 - 11:19 p.m.
The Adversary and I were... yes, of course, say it with me now, Out For Beer... and I was reminded of a conversation I had with another mate recently that had me thinking -- what would you do if by some strange circumstance you were sent a letter from the government indicating that for a period of one month you were above the law in every regard, and that no deed you performed during that month would ever be punished? We decided to steal and steal and steal, to amass a vast fortune by stalking from bank to bank, from place of business to place of business, grabbing that cash with both hands and making a stash, so to speak, and showing our letter from the government whenever we were asked what we were up to, or accosted by the police, or what have you. It was a while before any other illegal acts were even considered, and while wrathful vengeance on wrongdoers we have known was momentarily intriguing, we were still pretty firmly fixed on the idea of accumulating staggering Federal Reserve Bank sort of wealth.We asked the nearby Smurfette what she would do with her deck of get-out-of-jail-free cards, and without missing a beat she said she'd collect a vast sum of money as well. I suppose we are a mild-mannered sort without any sort of lust for cruelty and wrath -- we, like the early, cheerful, not-yet-Maharishi'ed Beatles*, just want money. That's what we want.
Mirabile Visu News: I have recently acquired a digital camera. I would post all kinds of interesting images for you to view, but sadly Diaryland wants money for that sort of thing, and I haven't become a super-ultra-golden member here because all my coin of the realm is sadly tied up in an ill-considered investment I made some years ago in the work of a snappy young businessman who promoted himself as a "combination karate-teacher / piano-tuner" and who I later learned to my chagrin was nothing more than a projection of my fragmented subconscious that only emerged after I briefly dated Helena Bonham Carter. This is why I'm broke, and why I've eaten only wheat germ three meals a day since I was nineteen. Many of you have seen me on the street, stopped to compliment me on how trim and smart I look in my belted potato sack, and then asked hesitantly why this is, and now you know.
So um, anyway, now I have a digital camera, and at some point when I get around to upgrading my membership to Super Fancy, images will be the satisfying a la mode for your daily slice of MV. Lucky buggers, all.
* Apologies for the obscure references. The Beatles were a pop group in the late sixties with shaggy hair that sang about girls, later morphing into a pop group in the later sixties with shaggier hair that sang about trippy things, later morphing into a pop group in the latest sixties with shaggiest hair that sang about nothing much of anything. They spent the seventies and eighties morphing some more: into a goofy British pop star, a self-absorbed pseudo-philosopher with a shrill Japanese wife, an Indian guru, and a pint-sized television train conductor. Guess which one they knighted, and you win a prize!
