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Showing posts with the label torture

True Story©… The M-O-Equalizer

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       I’ve been misusing  Moe Phillips . Not to say or try to suggest that Moe is a real person, but the time I have spent using that name to complete the Shenanigous missions that no sane person would dare to do with their own name appended may have gotten a bit out of hand.      Most Sunday evenings, I watch The Equalizer with Queen Latifah as she plays a street mercenary taking on jobs to help people in peril who come to her for help.  No, what she is doing is not legal as it is presented, but she is usually more adept and attentive in solving these people’s problems than are the local police. I had an idea… “Do you need assistance and can’t get help?  Contact Moe Phillips at 336-xxx-xxxx.  No job too big or too small.”      I posted that shit ALL OVER the place.  FaceBook, Craigslist, Angi, local bulletin boards, printed and put on the corkboard at grocery stores next to the ‘have you seen my fluffy’ pictures, on NextDoor – you name it!  I wanted as many eyes on this shit as abso

True Story©… I’ve Been Located!

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  Somehow I knew this day would come…      After years of supervillainous behavior, the tortures, the driving people literally insane, the competitions…   I fuckin’ KNEW this day was coming.      The picture you see above is from my front porch.   It was there when I got home from the gym yesterday morning.   For those who had been unaware of what one actually looks like, that is the shell of a cicada. For those of you have been paying attention through the last little while, you know I am a fan of using cicadas for my own personal gain. [ link ] [ link ] [ link ] Look, I have watched enough crime/espionage shows to spot a tail and make sure I am not being followed or tracked, but I am concerned right now that someone has smoked me out and learned my identity and used the cicada shell to indirectly let me know they’re onto me.      This really is my own fault.   I didn’t spend enough time sharpening my M.O. before employing the cicadas.   I am sure I have allowed myself to be

True Story©… Radio Violence

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       My brain is like a training exercise in just how much infinitely useless bullshit can fit into a tiny, tiny space.   I say that to say that I know a LOT about a LOT of things that do nothing in the interest in paying my bills. [ Phlip note : Speaking of bills…   Website renewal fees are next week Wednesday.   Anyone wanna pitch in?   The best nation is donation.   Please and thank you ! ]      Anyway…   I know a lot about a lot but one thing I cannot seem to avoid is unsolicited phone calls and, not those of the “extended car warranty” sort. As ever, this week’s tale begins with a phone call.   This time it was from an international number…   This should be fun. Me: “New phone, who dis?” Caller: “Good afternoon, sir.   Long time no hear from.” Me: “D-do I know you?” Caller: “You ask this every time you speak with one of us.” Me: “’one of us’ as in who the fuck?” Caller: “Well, sir…   I am the director of the International Supervillain’s Convention, and--…” Me