Gonzo Marketing:Winning Through Worst Practices The Bombast Transcripts: Rants and Screeds of RageBoy
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Sunday, June 20, 2004
the devil you say!
(his due)
guess who just got back today
them wild-eyed boys that had been away
haven't changed that much to say
but man, I still think those cats are crazy

they were askin' if you were around
how you was, where you could be found
told 'em you were livin' downtown
drivin' all the old men crazy...

the boys are back in town...
(the boys are back in town...)

the boys are back in town...

Thanks to Thin Lizzy (with apologies for the text-rendered lead line; best I could do, dudez; though I never followed you when you were "happening"; but I get all crazy amped these days when I hear that thing on my radio tuned to [what else?] the Classic Rock station cranked full out, driving around Boulder and wondering what the fuck happened).

And with fond memories of the cherry blossom festival in the park near Ueno Zoo, circa Spring 1984. The linked photo really does give a taste of the feeling of that, which was incredible. About a million people, all loaded on sake, sakura and a subtle sense of shibui, which doesn't translate so good. The buzz that sustains the empire of signs.

Speaking of which literary illusions, I would like to thank Tom Matrullo for his generous moral and financial support in this year of loving dangerously. He has clicked through on this lately ubiquitous gizmo more than once, and sent bucks beyond the means (one would imagine) of any normal expat hiding out in Mexico.

Others have been more than generous as well, but either have explicitly asked not to be outed here, or are folks I don't know very well, or at all, or all too well, and in none of these cases do I want to get anyone in trouble by publicizing their names in this seditious publication at a time of such terrible oppression and endemic stupidity. But you know who you are, and I thank you sincerely. The Iranian caviar was divine! And the Bombadier Learjet 45XR will sure come in handy for those impromptu trips to the Yucatan.

But listen, really: a buck for gas, a fiver for smokes and a coffee, small unmarked bills, anything you can spare is really helping me get my, uh... shit together. Though I swore I would never write anything that fucking dumb here. But sure, that's it! I'm getting my shit together, yeah. Realigning the brain cells so I can channel Jesus from His home base on Alpha Scorpii. Evolving my latent psi powers so I can scry into the future, make a killing by arbitraging bat guano futures on the Hang Seng Exchange, then disappear into the jungle without a trace. "Who was that masked man?" they'll say. I hope they'll say that after I'm gone. Maybe I'll sneak back and eavesdrop in various World Power Centers. See if they're missing me or dissing me. Or still pissing me off! Whatever it is, you will have played a pivotal role in history at a crucial juncture. What it all means? Who knows. But it's something really fucking important, I can feel it. A kind of harmonic detergence. A cleansing nuclear wind from the Future that will only eradicate the Bad People. We know who they are. Don't we? That's right, they're your fuck-knuckle neighbors and those plastic droids in the supermarket checkout lines. They're all these tinyminded arachnids in the News. I keep hearing Voices, and they say things like "This is CNN." Some guy sounds like Darth Vader. These aren't really people, you have to understand this. I had to work very hard to get over the notion that I was killing actual humans. But now I know, because when I cut them open, they're all full of wires and shit. If I hadn't discovered this, I'd feel awful about my decision to become, that's right: a terrorist! But I feel great about it! And with your help -- a buck or two at a time -- I'm confident we can recapture the planet from these fucking insectoid invaders.

Jesus, how did this ever happen?

Wait... wait! I think I'm channeling Jesus now... It's usually sort of fuzzy because of the goddam sunspots, but yes... I can hear Him clearly now...

"RageBoy! You must ready yourself for the Rapture, dude. Prepare for my return. And believe me, I'm gonna do ALL that shit it says in Revelation. All the really weird shit, yeah! And you will sit at my right hand in a tank made of adamantine bling-bling and at your command will be huge poison basilisks and medusoid babes with Big Hair made of pit vipers -- like hundreds of Dolly Fucking Partons with spooky rattles in their asses. That'll freak em out! RageBoy, we gotta get rid of these motherfucking hosers once and for all, so have no mercy, take no prisoners. Yeah, I know what I said before about heaven and hell and redemption and all that spiritual blatherskite. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but now... shit, these people have just pissed me off once too often, so we're gonna wipe the slate this time. No doves coming back from the Flood. No second chances. They're all fucked. They just don't know it yet. Tell you what, though. These people you got? Ones that put a dollar in your PayPal thing? We let them live. Whaddya think?"

"Jesus Christ! I think that'd be a great idea! And such a bargain. But the others we get to exterminate, right? You're not gonna fuck with that part of the plan, I hope."

"Have no fear, My Son, it will be as you say... kasdkadlkj kasdkjk dk jkladklj madlh *@&@&^!%%%%!..."

Ooop, sounds like I'm loosing him. These worthless fucking cell-brain implants. Sprint still can't get anything right. I think I might cleanse them first. Give me a box cutter and a couple hits of good acid and I will change history!

Actually, well... the truth is, I have a cold.

And a little bit of a fever, I think. I'm taking Advil for it, and lots of coffee and cigarettes of course. But I think it may be affecting my thinking. I keep getting this lost-time thing. The last ten minutes, for instance, are a complete blank. I think something is taking over my mind. And I know what it is.

Look, I said this a long time ago, and I'll say it again...

People of Earth...

The sky is open to the stars. Clouds roll over us night and day. Oceans rise and fall. Whatever you may have heard, this is our world, our place to be. Whatever you've been told, our flags fly free. Our heart goes on forever.

People of Earth, remember.

And that had nothing to do with Business®. I spit on Business. Ptui! I spit on Science® and Religion® and Politics®. Ptui! Ptui! Ptui! They are abominations, abhorrent to The Holder of the MasterRemote®, The All Merciful MindBreaker®. Defile not thyselves with these loathsome heresies. Ptui! But rather goest thou and kill the Infidel deader than A Fucking Doornail®. Then bloggest thou in Peace® and let not the vile lying vermin cosksuckers disturbest thy rapt contemplation of My Works®...

fallacies of the consequent, fallacies of irrelevant conclusion, reductios ad absurdum, vicious circles, arguments ad hominem, ad baculum, ad captandum vulgus, bombastic rants & grandiloquent screeds ad libitum, ad nauseam, ad infinitum and so much more!

Can I get an Amen?

Hmmm... I wonder if this Advil® is really doing anything?

5:32 AM | link |

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"RageBoy: Giving being fucking nuts a good name since 1985."
~D. Weinberger
28 October 2004

Chris Locke's photos More of Chris Locke's photos

Until a minute ago, I had no photos. I still have no photos to speak of. I don't even have a camera. But all these people were linking to "my photos." It was embarassing. It's still embarassing. But I'm used to that.

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