The Czar has had quite a bit of mail to get through lately; fortunately, most of it is total trash: Eh, yer so funny! Hey, you’re not quite right on a historical bit of trivia! Eh, yer so overdue on a credit card bill. It all goes into the dump.
Not all of it. A couple of messages have coughed themselves up, particularly in regard to ScottO’s recent visit to Chicago.
In that piece, you were supposed to guess where the Czar started to get a little goofy with the story. Probably, you all guessed correctly which means the borzois have to dine on serfs in the yard (serfs on turf, we calls it), rather than on your fattened hides. Fair’s fair.
First, though, is a question from Operative SMR.
|Dear Your Aged Angriness,
Have you been reading Patrick O’Brian?
Your faithful and quaking,
P.S. If I’m ever in Chicago, I’m definitely calling you for lunch. If you don’t kill me for my gall, I anticipate invigorating sportiness.
No idea who that is; the Czar asked Mandarin, and he didn’t know, either. So while you’re welcome to join us for lunch, probably a good subject for table chat wouldn’t be your reading choices. What does he write, erotica?
|Wow… I mean, I don’t know what some restaurants serve in Ye Olde Wind-Filled City, but the effects of one establishment’s drinks really seems to spur the imagination (or enhance the current view of reality with chemicals…. or something…).
My guess is that either they – the ordinary pharmacists at the restaurant – copied some of the drink recipes from the Leaping Peacock (without permission, I would imagine). Would I be correct in assuming that the Castle’s alchemists work directly with the Peacock to ensure the potency of the potables? If so, I would imagine they all are due for a severe “talking-to” with a bit of scourging tossed in for good measure. Perhaps, just for good measure, someone needs to talk to the Mandarin to make sure that his mind control over the Castle’s slaves is still complete and impenetrable.
By the way, were those monetary “credits” that “rolled”? And did they roll across the table from you and your guests to the now-frighted-out-of-her-wits server, or did you have to roll them across the floor? As Paul’s Law says (he’s yet another one of Murphy’s acolytes and the discoverer, if not inventor, of several additional laws of applied behavioral science): “You can’t fall off the floor.”
(Reaching for some Jack. Neat, please. The way Lem Motlow made it.)
Also, forwarded a pointer to your page to a few parents who have kids in HS – and one who is graduating this year.
Good advice, whether you’re graduating from hs, college, graduate school…
Thanks, BJ! No, no alcohol was involved in our lunch, and ScottO will back up the Czar’s claim, there.
The Czar thinks all of his readers are beautiful.
Internally, of course. Most of your physically are quite horrifying. Not Marie, though. She’s just all class.
Божію Поспѣшествующею Милостію Мы, Дима Грозный Императоръ и Самодержецъ Всероссiйскiй, цѣсарь Московскiй. The Czar was born in the steppes of Russia in 1267, and was cheated out of total control of all Russia upon the death of Boris Mikhailovich, who replaced Alexander Yaroslav Nevsky in 1263. However, in 1283, our Czar was passed over due to a clerical error and the rule of all Russia went to his second cousin Daniil (Даниил Александрович), whom Czar still resents. As a half-hearted apology, the Czar was awarded control over Muscovy, inconveniently located 5,000 miles away just outside Chicago. He now spends his time seething about this and writing about other stuff that bothers him.