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quote:Ganesh and ZoCher- one of you is fairly big, bear like and hairy. The other one is slightly smaller, big, bear like and hairy. You're both good looking in an ugly kind of way, and are both very very very much in love with life and each other. And lots of leather.
Well, Sauron, we're both mentally ursine and I have the grrrrrowllll to match. And we're phenomenally good looking (particularly Big G). I think Sax got me bang to rights with the Nick Fury comparison tho!
I used to have a lot of mental images of you guys but some of those have been superseded by the second hand images my spy has described to me after barbemeets he has enjoyed irl.
For instance, my mental Mordant Carnival was a tall, gorgeous, honey-bronzed (and orthodontically challenged) drag queen samba-ing down the streets of Rio de Janheiro, snorting coke thro Princess Margaret's cigarette holder, and dispensing pearls of wisdom from a sequined handbag...
My private Haus was a dapper, be-sworded Reepicheep figure from The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, wearing a Lecter-like mask to protect lesser intellects from his rapier-like wit and classically trained tongue... A giant among lesser mice.
I saw Flyboy drinking lots of Jack Daniels and running round and round his living room holding his arms out in aeroplane mode, going phut phut phut and crashing on the carpet when his propeller fouled. I thought Bono singing the Fly, sort of punchy and barrel-chested.
Captain Zoom I saw bursting through walls and calling out ZOOM! a lot, as he stroked his granite chin, to announce that he had come to save us from peril. Then shouting ZOOM! again as he flung his big red cape back and shot off into the air through the hole in the wall, to return to the gentle, unassuming alter ego where he pretends to run a comic book store.
Potus / Wisdom of Idiots I saw sitting in a big but threadbare armchair, smoking a pipe, gazing into the blazing fire, woolgathering and pretending he was a Hemingway character, as the wolves howled in the great snowy forest outside his log cabin. Every ten years or so he gets a visitor and hears news of the outside world. The visitor is then cooked en croute with manly potatoes and no veg.
Sax dances on the tables and plays his big, well polished instrument in a former Working Men's Club in the North of England, which has been converted into a bingo hall by day cum avant-garde cinema at night. At night he sells ice creams, punches tickets and interviews visiting cinema celebs on stage, in the glare of the footlights.
Secretly, I think he looks like the fleshly incarnation of Ganesh (bespectacled love god, receding but fashionably tonsured hair, Michael Stipe look-a-like), particularly in leather breeks and from the back... On your knees, Boy...
I could go on at length but am in an internet cafe and credit's nearly gone. No time to describe w1rebaby the Pumpkin King from Nightmare Before Christmas or Sauron the Komodo Dragon, and what he did to that goat...
[edited to remove utterly fascistic and slanderous description of The Knowledge + 1 as Bernard Manning's skid-marked jockstrap]
[ 16-02-2002: Message edited by: ZoCher ] |
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