Monday, August 11, 2014


Thursday, June 30, 2011

I would love to relay a spell-binding shot by shot description of our Black Rebel  Rifter Club’s most recent space battle , however, a pressing personal issue has cropped up which requires my immediate attention. Sometimes the human story takes precedence over the war stories. Please read on.
Recently, I was contacted by a dastardly individual named  Bhane Celesto (I hesitate to utter his name in public for fear of providing him any credibility whatsoever), who demanded that I immediately transfer to his numbered  Caldari account the sum of 5 Billion Isk (or in the alternative contract to him 1 pair of monocles) or he would make public a “correspondence” which he insisted would lay waste my career and life as I know it in New Eden. 
During our tense conversation, this Celesto brute stated he had in his possession a private correspondence which he asserts was sent by me to a person of high profile and impeccable reputation in our Universe.
 His absurd allegation was that the note was of a particularly tawdry nature and of such content that it would surely and irreversibly sully not only my own standing but that of the well-known recipient of my alleged letter. This Celesto character also inferred that my new life in the Black Rebel Rifter Club would come to an abrupt end once word of this letter leaked out (I had to smile inwardly at this since I know the nature of my new mates. Their sensibilities are not easily offended).  Mean pirate fucker types.  But who knows a “sensitive” one might have slipped through in the screening process.
Still, I had reason to pause and listen.
Naturally, I was curious and asked him to show me the letter to which he was referring.  I had some suspicions as to what it may be as unfortunately, and it pains me to admit this, I have been known to send  lengthy notes and letters or transcribe personal  journal entries that later come back to haunt me. I tend to shoot from the hip as they say and many times react to things emotionally and impulsively without adequately reflecting on possible consequences.    
Soy MUY HABLADOR as they used to say in that now dead ancient Earth language known as Spanish! I got a big mouth! And sometimes it is a big fucking potty mouth.  It is what it is.
Anyway I digress. At my insistence on seeing the paper, the shabbily dressed Celesto reached into his cheap, badly worn artificial Amarrian leather case and produced a crisp paper with my old corps letterhead on it.  Drat, it was obviously not the original.
 Instantly, I recognized the document.  I had forgotten it or had conveniently blotted it out of my memory.
A wave of apprehension washed over me for the letter as I remembered it could indeed be taken the wrong way if read without some background to add perspective on my state of mind when drafting it.
 My next course of action came to me in a second.  There was not a moment to lose.
 I had to make full disclosure regarding the paper and acknowledge the fact that I had indeed penned the letter, but first I had to dispose of the humanoid standing before me. I pulled my sidearm and quickly put the barrel to the temple of the now shaken Celesto.  Coward!!
 It did not take long to convince the despicable punk to leave.  “You’re lucky Zodiac or Drago aren’t  here or they would never find your body”,  I remember yelling as he exited my quarters.  I actually gave some thought to  letting Drago or Zodiac make the fool disappear (Z would love to add another corpse to his collection even if it wasn’t frozen) but the odds were Celesto had already made arrangements to have the letter published in the event he vanished.
 No. Clearly, I had to defuse the situation and do it quickly. 
I had to CUT HIM OFF AT THE PASS as they used to say on old Earth.
 The only way to do that was to publicly reveal for all to see the letter that Mr. Celesto was so certain would be his vehicle for enrichment.  The ANAL ORIFICE!! May his progeny be eaten alive from the inside by three headed gallente  fireworms!
Below you will find the letter.  It is with mixed feelings that I disseminate it.  It speaks for itself. Immediately following the letter will be a short explanation as to my possible motivations for sending it:

Dear Lady S,
I noted in a blog that you penned a while back (you were in a Cane) that you mentioned the need to fly carefully because your ISk totals were low. Being the big softy that I am, your comments touched my heart strings and set me to thinking.
How can Lady S fly  with reckless abandon,” brawl them down”, and then regale us with heroic tales of her exploits if she has to worry about the size of her wallet? She has to be able to fly loose, free, and unfettered without concern as to where her next ISK is coming from!   Flying with those kinds of concerns and distractions detracts from the ability to act spontaneously. Her fabulous blog will only suffer. It might handcuff her battle to bring justice to the Eve Universe. We cannot have that I told myself.
Now, I could just make a reasonable donation to you and leave it at that, but why not work another plan that would benefit us both?
 I have a proposal that I hope you will find palatable. Please do not take this the wrong way or take any offense. There was a movie made many years ago on ancient earth titled "Can't buy me love". In that movie, the main character was a nerdy, intelligent, but socially challenged kid who longed to run with the "cool kids".
I very much identify with that kid.
To make a long story short, he took the thousand dollars he had saved for a state of the art home telescope and paid the most popular girl in school the money to pretend to be his girlfriend (she also just happened to be the daughter of a woman who was on his lawn cutting route).
He reasoned this would give him instant "street cred" and enhance his popularity. They made a contract where she had to have so many lunches with him during the week and also spend time at the “pep rally” sitting next to him and selling the illusion that she was his girlfriend.
The plan worked initially but soured and then ultimately exploded in his face.  I propose that we implement a similiar plan, albeit without the exploding in the face part. I will fund your pirate lifestyle for an agreed upon period of time if you will pretend to be my Eve Online cupcake, my squeeze,  my proverbial cup of “brown sugar”. Ay que chula estas senorita!!!
How many men could tame the fabled tigress Lady S?
 Only a man among men would be able to pull that off. I would be granted instant legend status. I would pretend to be your “sugar daddy” and be the envy of all real men in EVE!  Many beautiful women have gentlemen “sponsors”. This is strictly on the up and up as I am not a “flesh peddler”.
 Of course we would work the plan for some agreed length of time and then put on some kind of lovers spat performance where we would break up in a manner in which we both save face.
 Please take the above offer under consideration. I am assuming of course that your finances are still tight and admittedly it has been some time since you wrote that blog article. Your circumstances may have changed. Give it some thought and then let me know your thoughts. It is the classic Win-Win situation. It may appear I am attempting to “take advantage” of a lady in distress. Nothing could be further from the truth. This is Lady S we are talking about!
 I would also like you to give some consideration to the amount of ISK it might take for you to agree to this mutually beneficial plan. I await anxiously your response.
Your long time secret admirer,
p.s. – If  you are unable to enter into this agreement, might you be able to convince Sassy B or the beautiful Literia to do it?
p.p.s. – I have BILLIONS and BILLIONS and BILLIONS in my account. Of course, I would have to check the laws of Eve to make sure no claim on my full assets could be claimed by you if we do this deal but I am sure we should not have legal problems in that area since we will not be co-habitating to the point where Eve palimony laws might apply.

Well, there it is. That is a full and accurate copy of what I sent. Let me say right up front that Lady Shaniqua did NOT dignify this letter with a response. Why would she. No doubt she has suitors galore in every corner of this universe.
Yes I am talking about the famed Lady Shaniqua, the wondrous waif of womanhood who specializes in extreme boat violence against sordid Kriminal types in our Universe.
I cannot say what it was that possessed me to write the above letter. Other documents that I have penned will be released in the near future and the hope is that they may help explain some of my more puzzling actions. Sadly there are other episodes of aberrant behavior besides this one that may someday come to light. Some call me eccentric.
  I have had a troubled past and admittedly have undergone multi-modal “therapy”.  
No excuses. Just fact.
Some readers, friends, and corpmates may find it odd that I sent the above “note” and may choose to curtail any further contact with me. So be it. My CEO may find me an embarrassment and choose to purge me. Time will tell.
There is no pat answer as to why I sent the letter. Perhaps I was desperate and craved attention and acceptance by those who I thought were ignoring me and assumed an affiliation with Lady S would bring to me some legitimacy. Or maybe it was pure animal lust. Who knows? The letter is out there now and will spark speculation.
 Let me make it perfectly clear that I have never met the object of my adoration face to face. There must be no confusion on that point. That is not to say that I have not managed to find myself in close proximity to her. I am nothing if not resourceful in some matters.
I have not technically stalked her though my actions might be deemed stalking depending on the legal definition of that crime in some of the more civilized venues in our sector. I have been close enough to smell her and yes even “touch” her. Sadly, I was not able to gaze into her eyes as she has usually been asleep the last few times I found myself in her quarters uninvited.  Admittedly, and much to my shame I may have slipped a “pill” into her drink at one time or another but my plans to get to “know” her were interrupted for whatever reasons. Also, the peep hole I paid an unemployed derelict Minnie construction dude to install in the bathroom of her last known address was discovered and sealed.
But I am off on a tangent yet again.
 Truth be told, I have pined after her for years. I find Shanny absolutely irresistible. She is the straw that stirs my drink as the saying goes. She will complete me when I finally meet her.
 The scent of her exotic perfumes and the musky odor of her sweet spot intermingled with the smell of spent autocannon rounds makes for a delectable olfactory aphrodisiac. And what a vision of feminine perfection! Did I mention the sultry sensuous symmetry she projects and the way she fills out her flight suit?  Be still my heart!
 She is my ebony edible. Like the now extinct black widow spider of old Earth, she will copulate with you and then kill you without hesitation. So I have been told.
Am I falling under her spell again?
 The ardor and obsession has cooled a bit recently due to her inferred rejection of me based on her silence upon receiving my proposal, but at one time I was living my own version of what has come to be known in psychiatry as the  “Basic Instinct” syndrome!
I found the vision of my Lady S plunging an ice pick into my ear after a night of passion strangely erotic. She is both dangerous and delicious. Heaven help me. Great blue balls of fire!  Where is my authentic Laedy in Red inflateable doll? (It will have to suffice as I cannot currently afford the fully functioning anatomically correct reciprocating Mynxee clone)
Ok. I am back after a cold cold shower. (There is no hot water in this Minmitar shithole anyway)  
To close, I am both sorry and relieved that Mr. Celesto came forward at this time. The possibility that this quirky contact I initiated in a moment of weakness might come to light had been weighing heavily on my mind for some time and I am glad it has ended. I now have to live with the consequences.
It is what it is.
Lady S. the offer still stands. I don’t have to be your number one viejo. Might there be a spot for me further down the trough?

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