U R not e, New York --- and here's why!
First of all, before we go any further, a decent bit of big hugs to dearest ol' Naked Cowboy who, upon learning that your humble Dragonmaster would soon invade the Twitterverse, if thou wouldst, insisted on having his photo taken with me. As ever, I know not how ye manage it, Robert John Burck, but once more you have convinced me that, as one of my Champions of the Imagination, there is still hope for you yet! Would that I could say the same, alas, for mine adopted metropolis.
The past 24 hours have seen your Dragonmaster on the receiving end of several not-nice events. I've had my intelligence insulted, my talent doubted, my methodologies questioned, and my ability to do me job my way compromised. That oh so annoying saxophonist who frequents Bethesda Fountain, playing the same damn songs over and over and over, got on me nerves one time too many yesterday, and I had to of course grumble about it. The idiot did not take kindly to that, I fear; indeed, he threatened to assault me, stating I had no talent under me Wizardly hat! Really! (I should have been onto something when that unseen pigeon let his excrement loose upon one sleeve of my robes [had that gotten onto my hand itself, I would have screamed bloody murder right there!]!)
As the afternoon wore on, and despite the fact that I managed to get a few big-number'd d'bloons out of everything, I nonetheless realized, after the usual careful consideration, that ever since Master Thoth and Lila' Angelique left the Angel Tunnel, I have somehow found myself having to challenge fellow street performers for their attention at the ol' Fountain; put simply, that is a challenge I neither wanted nor needed. Come to that, it's a challenge I'm not emotionally prepared to take on. (At least, guitar-strummin' ol' Dominick agreed with me about the sax fiend.)
And after I'd left the Naked Cowboy, and was preparing to officially call it a day, I was unexpectedly accosted by a cop, who told me that I couldn't, in his words, "wear a mask" in the subway. My familiar wig and beard, a mask? What made that guy think you were masked, Master Blackwolf? I hear you asking. The imbecile explained that it was all in light of all the recent terrorist news and whatnot. I had to literally risk losing my stuff and carrying the lot down onto the platform, but not before warning the cop, "I trust you're aware that if I lose any of this stuff, it's your fault." The cop brushed me off and walked away. Fortunately, the minute I boarded the train, I wasted no time getting me wig and beard back onto me face where they belonged; and returned home without further incident.
Kids, there are a few things I must grumble about here, if I expect to live with myself for the rest of the month:
I am sick and tired of defending my motives, explaining my reasons for the things I do, and describing my methods in detail to those who, as ever, refuse to get it about me! It's gotten to a point where I can't even go home in peace without some twit cop assuming I'm some sort of liability or some such! More and more, my friends, it dawns on me that New York is no longer the proper place for an intelligent, sensitive Wizard such as myself! I don't have to justify my methods to anyone, by Merlin's beard! The problem is, quite simply, that there are just too damn many people who are just too damn stupid to figure things out! This is why, in Weird Al Yankovic's classic film UHF, Kevin McCarthy, star of the original Invasion of the Body Snatchers, rants thusly:
"Do you honestly think I give a bleep about the low-life yokels of this town? If ya took their combined IQ and multiplied it by a hundred, you might have enough intelligence to tie your shoe --- if ya didn't drool all over yourself first!"
As for me, methinks it be best that I quote the tagline from one of the original Sony PlayStation commercials: U R not e. To elaborate, New York City is not yet fully prepared to re-embrace its vast populace of eccentrics, of whom your Dragonmaster just happens to be a charter member. Why, in all honesty, methinks ol' Moondog would have laughed at the lot of us were he alive to see what has become of us --- we who have sworn to uphold his traditions by any means necessary!
The point, kids, is simply this: I refuse to stand about trying to justify the reasons for doing what I do! But clearly, it is never enough for you, is it, that I'm constantly having to explain myself to those who are too damn stupid to figure it out for themselves!
I'm Blackwolf the Dragonmaster, dammit! And if you feel that that's not good enough a reason, I can say little else save fuck you, because there's not enough people around here to defend Imagination against the Forces of Nastiness; and I'm practically the only one capable of fulfilling that duty! So, to say it again, so that it properly sinks in: U R not e. And until you are ready, New York, consider this my resignation from my Bethesda Fountain duties until such time as you desire the return of Imagination back in your world.
See you folks in Washington Square Park!
Master Blackwolf
The past 24 hours have seen your Dragonmaster on the receiving end of several not-nice events. I've had my intelligence insulted, my talent doubted, my methodologies questioned, and my ability to do me job my way compromised. That oh so annoying saxophonist who frequents Bethesda Fountain, playing the same damn songs over and over and over, got on me nerves one time too many yesterday, and I had to of course grumble about it. The idiot did not take kindly to that, I fear; indeed, he threatened to assault me, stating I had no talent under me Wizardly hat! Really! (I should have been onto something when that unseen pigeon let his excrement loose upon one sleeve of my robes [had that gotten onto my hand itself, I would have screamed bloody murder right there!]!)
As the afternoon wore on, and despite the fact that I managed to get a few big-number'd d'bloons out of everything, I nonetheless realized, after the usual careful consideration, that ever since Master Thoth and Lila' Angelique left the Angel Tunnel, I have somehow found myself having to challenge fellow street performers for their attention at the ol' Fountain; put simply, that is a challenge I neither wanted nor needed. Come to that, it's a challenge I'm not emotionally prepared to take on. (At least, guitar-strummin' ol' Dominick agreed with me about the sax fiend.)
And after I'd left the Naked Cowboy, and was preparing to officially call it a day, I was unexpectedly accosted by a cop, who told me that I couldn't, in his words, "wear a mask" in the subway. My familiar wig and beard, a mask? What made that guy think you were masked, Master Blackwolf? I hear you asking. The imbecile explained that it was all in light of all the recent terrorist news and whatnot. I had to literally risk losing my stuff and carrying the lot down onto the platform, but not before warning the cop, "I trust you're aware that if I lose any of this stuff, it's your fault." The cop brushed me off and walked away. Fortunately, the minute I boarded the train, I wasted no time getting me wig and beard back onto me face where they belonged; and returned home without further incident.
Kids, there are a few things I must grumble about here, if I expect to live with myself for the rest of the month:
I am sick and tired of defending my motives, explaining my reasons for the things I do, and describing my methods in detail to those who, as ever, refuse to get it about me! It's gotten to a point where I can't even go home in peace without some twit cop assuming I'm some sort of liability or some such! More and more, my friends, it dawns on me that New York is no longer the proper place for an intelligent, sensitive Wizard such as myself! I don't have to justify my methods to anyone, by Merlin's beard! The problem is, quite simply, that there are just too damn many people who are just too damn stupid to figure things out! This is why, in Weird Al Yankovic's classic film UHF, Kevin McCarthy, star of the original Invasion of the Body Snatchers, rants thusly:
"Do you honestly think I give a bleep about the low-life yokels of this town? If ya took their combined IQ and multiplied it by a hundred, you might have enough intelligence to tie your shoe --- if ya didn't drool all over yourself first!"
As for me, methinks it be best that I quote the tagline from one of the original Sony PlayStation commercials: U R not e. To elaborate, New York City is not yet fully prepared to re-embrace its vast populace of eccentrics, of whom your Dragonmaster just happens to be a charter member. Why, in all honesty, methinks ol' Moondog would have laughed at the lot of us were he alive to see what has become of us --- we who have sworn to uphold his traditions by any means necessary!
The point, kids, is simply this: I refuse to stand about trying to justify the reasons for doing what I do! But clearly, it is never enough for you, is it, that I'm constantly having to explain myself to those who are too damn stupid to figure it out for themselves!
I'm Blackwolf the Dragonmaster, dammit! And if you feel that that's not good enough a reason, I can say little else save fuck you, because there's not enough people around here to defend Imagination against the Forces of Nastiness; and I'm practically the only one capable of fulfilling that duty! So, to say it again, so that it properly sinks in: U R not e. And until you are ready, New York, consider this my resignation from my Bethesda Fountain duties until such time as you desire the return of Imagination back in your world.
See you folks in Washington Square Park!
Master Blackwolf
posted by Master Blackwolf | 6:30 AM
1 Comments:
How dare they accost the Unofficial Wizard of NYC? I doubt if terrorists walk around wearing a big fake beard and wizard robes. That officer was just being a fascist.
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