I wonder how much you have to pay to hunt a supreme court judge.
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Maybe your father-in-law was as clueless as he claimed, or maybe he was feigning ignorance. But if he is high up in the Club he knows that Bob Weir and Steve Miller are only allegories—physical ciphers hinting at secrets allowing the Bohemians to harness a source of enormous power.
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When we send men over to see you, please understand it will be as painless as you allow it to be.
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He preferred to be called Count Sporkula, thankyouverymuch!
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“…of a secretive society…”
“according to the group’s website…”
Yep. OK. Sure, Boingboing.
Hold still - I want to ‘honor’ you.
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Pukerific
he introduced me to Bob Weir and Steve Miller once, in each case not being entirely sure who they were, only that he knew I was a fan.
Not Steve Gutenberg, though? You barely got through the front door, kid.
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Maybe he was being initiated, and the hazing went wrong. “Thank you sir, may I have >urk<.”
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Dees boys are not white!
I refuse to belong to any secret society whose security is so bad that I know about it.
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The conspiracy he’s involved with involves criminalizing public urination in all areas outside The Grove.
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Not an easy-to-read format, but it is a +1 rabbit hole.
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Aaaaaah, formatting nightmare, awesome thread.
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also dress like vampires, have silly names that also double as insults, and belong to secret societies evidently founded by Tom Sawyer.
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Are they worshipping Hubertus Bigend?
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I don’t know what other mysteries the club may hold, but I do know that they hold the secret to the perfect Manhattan.
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Don’t worry—I’ll be right here at home.
They’re here! shit shit shit… flamethrowers? Acchk, … I … I heat up! I can’t cool down!
