dear PD

[deadfong]

I don't actually have anything to contribute re: rong, since I didn't see what he did, although he does come off as kinda douchey in this thread, but I was moved by this:

Actually, I was thinking Raoul.  The guy with the weird flesh disorder thingie?

That really struck me.  I mean, you could have been specific, like he has rosacea or leprosy, but no, he has a flesh disorder, a phrase laden with menace and possibility.  Is it a physical disorder, a loss of control over his own substance a la Tetsuo at the end of Akira?  Or is it a mental condition, a dangerous obsession with the flesh of others which he collects and keeps in a vat for his own unsavory and blasphemous purposes?  I've never been to Tucson, but given what you've written about the place, I suspect the truth is far worse.

Flesh disorder.  That simple combination of those two words is horrible and fascinating.  I'm going to be thinking about it all day.

[rong]

speaking of flesh disorders:

back in 1999, my truck broke down on I-75 just south of Indian River, MI.

I only had to walk about 300 yards before I was picked up by an old man in a non-remarkable sedan.

what was remarkable was that he had no nose or right ear.  just holes in his head where they used to be. 

i thanked him for picking me up but was pretty relieved that we arrived at a gas station within a few miles.

turns out my transmission lost most of its fluid and actually welded itself together from the heat.

the tow truck driver was very chatty and had a lazy eye.  she was also a she - not that there's anything wrong with that - just something that struck me as noteworthy.

the waitress at the restaurant near the motel i would spend the next 3 days drinking black label beer also had a lazy eye.  she asked me if i was the guy with the broke down truck.

i still tense up whenever i drive past indian river.  fuck that place.

i still have most of that truck.  it's hard to believe ministry's "land of rape and honey" came out the year that truck was made.

can't say i care much for black label beer, though.  i drank it one other time in detroit, but that's another story.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

You're also ignoring the fact that you specifically singled him out in the second post of this thread before anyone else had the chance to respond.

This.

And this.  I know this is thissing my own post by proxy, but the point needs to be hammered home.

If you think Roger's after you, chances are, you're after him.

Every time.

My favorite is when people get confused and think that Roger's attacking them, when he hasn't even noticed them. Like when Eartha thought ECH's post was from Roger, and then complained to ECH that Roger was being mean to her. 

Like I attract needy hippies, Roger attracts stalkers with Daddy issues.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

RONG RONG
RONG RONG
RONG RONG RONG

BONOBO PHONE

This made me totally 

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Thanks for the input everybody.

This has been a real eye opener.

I'm looking forward to making positive contributions with positive results.

See also:

Lesson learned.

We'll see.

If he starts contributing meaningfully, and doesn't have any paranoid/stalkery meltdowns about people singling him out and being mean to him, then I'm totally willing to give him a fair shake.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

An ancient code in the monuments of Tucson.
A ruthless cult determined to protect it.
A desperate race to uncover The Good Reverend Roger's darkest secret.

When world-famous Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon is summoned to 4th Avenue to analyze a mysterious ancient script—drawn on a calling card next to the disemboweled corpse of the head docent—he discovers evidence of the unthinkable: the resurgence of the ancient cult of the Black Madonna, a secret society that has surfaced from the shadows to carry out its legendary vendetta against its mortal enemy, rong.

Langdon's worst fears are confirmed when a messenger from the Quintinistas appears at The MeetRack to deliver a fateful ultimatum: Turn over the archbishop, or one cherub will disappear from the Sistine Chapel every day. Racing against the clock, Langdon joins forces with the dexterous and brilliant daughter of the murdered docent in a desperate bid to crack the code that will reveal the cult's secret Mind Lazors.

Embarking on a frantic hunt, Langdon and his companion follow a 400-year-old trail through Tuscon's most exalted dive bars and coyote poop, pursued by a hypoglycemic assassin the cult has sent to thwart them. What they discover threatens to expose a conspiracy that goes all the way back to PD.com and the posts of Dok Howl.

LMNO, someone drew some kind of strange sigil on my studio door and I thought of you! It is an M above an upward-pointing arrow, like so:

M
^
|
|

I assume it has something to do with my Santa Muerte shrine.

[ñͤͣ̄ͦ̌̑͗͊͛͂͗ ̸̨̨̣̺̼̣̜͙͈͕̮̊̈́̈͂͛̽͊ͭ̓͆ͅé ̰̓̓́ͯ́́͞]

An ancient code in the monuments of Tucson.
A ruthless cult determined to protect it.
A desperate race to uncover The Good Reverend Roger's darkest secret.

When world-famous Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon is summoned to 4th Avenue to analyze a mysterious ancient script—drawn on a calling card next to the disemboweled corpse of the head docent—he discovers evidence of the unthinkable: the resurgence of the ancient cult of the Black Madonna, a secret society that has surfaced from the shadows to carry out its legendary vendetta against its mortal enemy, rong.

Langdon's worst fears are confirmed when a messenger from the Quintinistas appears at The MeetRack to deliver a fateful ultimatum: Turn over the archbishop, or one cherub will disappear from the Sistine Chapel every day. Racing against the clock, Langdon joins forces with the dexterous and brilliant daughter of the murdered docent in a desperate bid to crack the code that will reveal the cult's secret Mind Lazors.

Embarking on a frantic hunt, Langdon and his companion follow a 400-year-old trail through Tuscon's most exalted dive bars and coyote poop, pursued by a hypoglycemic assassin the cult has sent to thwart them. What they discover threatens to expose a conspiracy that goes all the way back to PD.com and the posts of Dok Howl.

I'm still chuckling.

[deadfong]

speaking of flesh disorders:

Flesh disorders are serious business.  Your tale of old men with missing face parts and women with lazy eyes is weak sauce.

[rong]

Weak sauce is weak sauce

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Weak sauce is weak sauce

Yes, yes, every one knows that 1+x=x+1

[Doktor Howl]

Before bed, I did a little self justifying analysis and noted the following:

I have 15 posts in this thread
Twid has 7
Nigel has 7
Roger has 27
Babby has 8
Everyone else posted once.
Am I paranoid to think roger has special interest in me?

Wow.  You counted?   

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I don't actually have anything to contribute re: rong, since I didn't see what he did, although he does come off as kinda douchey in this thread, but I was moved by this:

Actually, I was thinking Raoul.  The guy with the weird flesh disorder thingie?

That really struck me.  I mean, you could have been specific, like he has rosacea or leprosy, but no, he has a flesh disorder, a phrase laden with menace and possibility.  Is it a physical disorder, a loss of control over his own substance a la Tetsuo at the end of Akira?  Or is it a mental condition, a dangerous obsession with the flesh of others which he collects and keeps in a vat for his own unsavory and blasphemous purposes?  I've never been to Tucson, but given what you've written about the place, I suspect the truth is far worse.

Flesh disorder.  That simple combination of those two words is horrible and fascinating.  I'm going to be thinking about it all day.

He has a flesh disorder.  Don't be fucking ghoulish about it.  HE'S the victim here.

[Epimetheus]

Am I the only one completely lost as to how the post counts have anything to do with your interest in him?

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Am I the only one completely lost as to how the post counts have anything to do with your interest in him?

He was tirelessly poring over the details of my posts, and noticed something that made him feel like he was being stalked.

[Epimetheus]

Am I the only one completely lost as to how the post counts have anything to do with your interest in him?

He was tirelessly poring over the details of my posts, and noticed something that made him feel like he was being stalked.

Typical of your...er...fans.

Y'know, it's funny. The people who accuse you of having an obsessive following here are always the only people actually obsessively following you.