Gonzo Marketing:Winning Through Worst Practices The Bombast Transcripts: Rants and Screeds of RageBoy
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Saturday, July 27, 2002
Lip Sinking

LIPS! It starts off sounding like a day in the life of your typical suburban soccer mom, but then: the horror, the horror! Halley's latest post is worthy of the New Yorker. No, I take that back. It's worthy of Boy's Life, a much more professionally edited publication. Never mind all that. Just trust me. Don't be drinking anything when you get to the final graf.

1:48 AM | link |

Tuesday, July 23, 2002
Shame About It

recent RageBoy photo - unretouched Bad news. RageBoy has been diagnosed as having a rare combination of facial disintegration and dementia praecox. The prognosis is not good. You can send your condolences here.

7:06 PM | link |

so if you meet me
have some courtesy
have some sympathy and some taste
use all your well-learned politesse
or I'll lay your soul to waste

pleased to meet you
hope you guess my name
but what's puzzling you
is the nature of my game

3:08 PM | link |

Know Your World! The Secret Diagrams 1 + 2

One of my Valued Spies sent me this link tonight. As the author says he must pay when people download these fucking fantastically excellent diagrams, I've hosted them on rageboy.com to defray his costs. Or some such shit. You figure it out. The little pictures link to bigger pictures. Perhaps you have seen this keen technique used elsewhere on the web.

Click on Secret Diagram 1

Secret Diagram 1

Click on Secret Diagram 2

Secret Diagram 2

Copyright f�r alle auf dieser Website gezeigten Bilder und Texte
by: Gerhard Seyfried, Berlin.

"What you should know about me:
Since 1968 my name stands for excellent comics and
cartoons. Seat of my enterprise is Berlin.
Administration is seated in London while my study is
at a secret location somewhere in the south pacific.
I myself am on vacation most of the time."
Gerhard Seyfried

1:31 AM | link |

Monday, July 22, 2002
Turner Twigs to Sub Rosa Cabal

Suitt is big cheese, she calls all the shots

special message to AKMA:

I said, Hey! You! Get off of my cloud
Hey! You! Get off of my cloud
Hey! You! Get off of my cloud
Don't hang around 'cause two's a crowd...
...else I'm a do a Borgesian hermeneutics number on  yo ass!

6:57 PM | link |

How Many of Us Are There?

You are a Christopher Locke.
You enjoy writing while stoned to get across your psychedelic dreams
which hopefully insult as many people as possible.
You probably have "fuzknozzle" shaved into the back of your scalp.

Take the What Blogging Archetype Are You test at GAZM.org

12:06 PM | link |

Oh, that magic feeling
One sweet dream
Pick up the bags and get in the limousine
Soon we'll be away from here
Step on the gas and wipe that tear away...
I haven't written anything for a while. I know. People keep reminding me. It's cooling off tonight. Coming up on the full moon. Raining a little. I have a cold. Hit me real bad today, so I'm taking drugs for it. Tylenol, Alka Seltzer Plus, Oxycodone (in analgesic potency, oxycodone is comparable to morphine), Atavan, Trazadone, Ambien, Paxil, along with massive amounts of potent multivitamins, anti-oxidants, espresso and cigarettes. I have found this an effective combination in that I no longer care that I have a cold. I did fall asleep for a while trying to read P.T. Deuterman's Zero Option . Book slid right out of my hand and bonked onto the floor. It's pretty good. Army guys, DOD, FBI, nerve gas, lotsa running around with guns and shit. I read Hunting Season last week and it was just the right thing for a convalescing mental case such as myself. I've been lying on my couch with the air conditioner running for about five weeks now. I stop reading to get food occasionally, make more coffee, take more drugs, and call Halley. Yesterday we talked for six hours. She is not available in the night, so I send these increasingly weird v-mails. Tonight I described my early youth on a planet orbiting Alpha Centauri, and sang an improvisational song about the moon. The lyrics went: "the moon" (repeat till tape ends). They're just little five-minute stories. She calls them romans telephoniques . It's definitely a new form. Lots of freedom and no typing. However, you need a special kind of person to play this game with. Halley is definitely a special kind of person. She is much more far out than she sometimes seems on her blog, where she often appears as a church-going Connecticut soccer mom. It's taken me quite a few conversations to discover that she is really an exotic dancer from Tangier. Also, she just got full cable access and has become an instant broadcast junkie. She now gives me full bios of Herman Hesse, Grigori Effimovich Rasputin, Zubin Mehta and Johnny Stampinato. In short, Halley is a trip. And my best friend.

My other best friend is Jeneane, who gets me laughing so hard I think I'll puke -- with stories about Uncle Daddy and Aunt Grandma, for instance, which I keep telling her she has to blog. And Queenie. Oh my god! We talked on the phone for hours almost every night while George was away in Hong Kong and Don was off tripping around China for three weeks. We also make up cool book titles. These meds are kicking in bigtime, so I'll just end this by listing last night's catch:

  • The One Minute Relationship
  • The Four Disagreements
    by Don Minga Spumoni, a Sicilian shaman
  • RageBoy's Big Book of Affirmations
We laugh a lot and also talk about really scary psychological shit. Jeneane is more than meets the eye on at least a dozen fronts.
Any time at all
All you gotta do is call
And I'll be there...

1:31 AM | link |

"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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