Gonzo Marketing:Winning Through Worst Practices The Bombast Transcripts: Rants and Screeds of RageBoy
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Monday, July 07, 2008
Chapter 2
"What time is it?" she asked when they arrived.

"Eight thousand years ago."

"From whose perspective?"

"Heh. Good question."

They were in a great desert. The sun was huge, just starting to sink below the far horizon. It was hot as hell.

"It's hot as hell here," she said. "Did you remember the Evian?"

He rustled around in the knapsack. "In here somewhere," he said. He was wearing designer sun glasses.

"You look hot," she said.

"I am."

"No modesty," she said. "That's what I like about you."

"The sun is going down," he said. "I bet it gets cold here at night. Deserts are like that. One extreme to another."

"You should know about that," she said. "But look, here's a bush."

"A bush? Why are you telling me 'here's a bush'?"

"Well, because you're right about it getting cold, and I like to plan ahead. When it gets to be night, we can set it on fire. You bring your lighter?"

"Right here."

"OK, then. We're all set."


The old man was driving sheep. They weren't moving fast. They were coming from the west, so the sun wouldn't blind them. In the mornings they would go the other way. The animals were chatting with each other, low-key. "That was some good grass back there." "Tell me about it, I'm still messed up."

The old man had fallen asleep under a tree. He'd had a dream. Now it was late. It was almost dark. I must hurry, he thought.

But suddenly, he stopped. In the distance, something flared up. He looked around. He looked back. It was larger now, and there was movement inside it. He pushed the flock onward, faster, toward whatever it was.


"Ha ha!" she said, clapping her hands. "It worked!"

"Of course it worked," he said. "What did you expect?"

It was a large bush, very dry. It being the desert. All it took was one tiny tongue of flame and they had a bonfire going.

"I wouldn't have pictured this when it was so hot a while ago," said the man, rising. "Good thinking."

"Thanks," she said. "It's pretty, too, isn't it?"

"Yeah, lovely."

Against the night, all you could see were his eyes. The orange flames danced in them, reflected. She spread her wings full.

Just then they looked up and saw the old shepherd. He was kneeling and the look on his face was of transport. He was awestruck, speechless. His eyes wide, his hands making disconnected gestures.

"What the devil," said the dark man. "Now what?"

"Might as well make the most of it," she said, pumping down on the air with her wings so that she was hovering just above the fire. "I got a feeling this story is gonna make the rounds."

12:16 PM | link |

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

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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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