So, were there any strippers? Uh, in your dream, I mean.
I am beginning to view this game in the light of Freudian psychology's psychic apparatus: the living are the ego, the dead are the id, and the anonymous conscience of the username is the super-ego, or in this rare instance, the supper-ego. This structure of interpretation is highly useful in the case of jingofever and peguin, but somewhat puzzling in your case, compare2what?
Anyway, care for a canape? Or is this a chart of the seating arrangements?
You make the call.
Ok, now I'm assigning RI username personas to all the character introductions in that clip you supplied, and they are meshing quite nicely with remarkable results. But I've had difficulty with the self-placement. First, I was the erudite gentleman sounding the gong, and, as you might imagine, I became quickly and happily attached to that part. It so seemed to have been written as if for me alone. At the moment, though, I am the virtuoso bongo player behind the title card, faceless, but adding - in my own special hep manner - certain integral percussive punctuations to the proceedings. I'm very fond of the name of the presenting organization. I feel I may have used to be a founding member, until I was branded and disbarred. Slow Sunday night, yes.
Uuups, now I'm the chauffer again, giving that perfunctory nod and smile;
sotto voce, "just gettina fucking car."
The most dangerous traps are the ones you set for yourself. - Phillip Marlowe
