I like to pretend that neverstop has never stopped being the ugly massive face you all tricked me into believing was actually him, lol you got me I admit me. Of course looking back it seems implausible that I would actually accept such a predictably ugly gaffer was actually the ugly personality of neverstop in the flesh. I remember when I saw it for the first time.
My stomach turned.
Then I bought your trick hook line and sinker. Golly gosh I'm such a guppie some times.
Great pic though, with that ridiculous beard, macking away on a retiree or senior citizen which is amusing but then you think about the old lady, and the smile seems to just go away somehow.
I know the Chin is almost half-respectable, but it's still fun to pretend he's this heinous animal, that would scare dogs and run children to their mothers skirts, and their mothers knees wobbling in terrors. clacking against each other, in harmony with the clacks emanating from the tongued fork, which resides (if our models are even accurate), somewhere below or perched at the rear of the chin, all the room in the world to hide anything up there, has to be where the fork goes, or perhaps serves as a blow-horn, a natural echo horn used by kings in ceremonial cloth, for days of unknown importance, where one must dress up but do so in defensible church-going clothing.
To quickly hush any suspicion that the chin will return to active session, chin-sash or emblemed traditional skirt, with trademark horror grin, to stand out..for my brother's wedding, recently announced. Thank you. We were surprised, well it may turn out to be all one of my brothers unfunny jokes, probably call the punch-line just when I've finally breathed out and shed a tear at losing my baby boy - a 3rd generation drill-bit. They met at work, distance made hearts fonder, fell in love married, yes that's our concern,. I would like to know more about their family and from which region are we talking. And has anyone confirmed he's not being held to ordered actions by those who realise they are dealing with idiots, who present opportunity.
And if the socket and my brother have feelings that are real, well I want to support them and why wouldn't I. But if he's levelling all of us, I want to be able to show I expected as much, and not be left there like a booby, in formal attire.
I'll do my best to camouflage the chin best I can within the workings of my ceremonial suit, if my brother is serious I will be looking smart and won't hurt his feelings, as no harm done, just so long as no ladies see it and faint or the offence causes sword or blood play, or indigestion.
The latter is my most grave fear. And the likeliest of the windmills I must conquer, alone, chin in crooked hand, as I surveyed the killing-fields of the plateau, regretting the decision, made drunk with dreams of the first prize, which I now held in my hand. The $ value for which, was droppping like a stone. WHilst I stood, awkwardly holding high fashion's latest accessory, in my hand where it would not likely impress the naked savages, but may inspire some fireplay, if I chose to sleep, and chose poorly.
Chin fashion. But I guess, if it wasn't so stupid, so ugly, so adored, wasn't dangerous, it wouldn't be the same. I mentally note that all the same, I belonged with my books, leaving the world of chins and what's hot (the chin is not, holding at 1 in Not for 3 weeks, - at this rate, it may have a second run, nothing can be this unpopular for this long, without inspiring an adoring fan base, of irony lovers. Who knows where the irony starts and ends, I wonder aloud. Talking about fashion ostensibly, but, after a moment, realising I was speaking for it all. For me. For the future, for what was important (note, do not kill anyone over fashion accessories ever again), learning what was not, the hard way.
Was it worth it, I ask the chin, half expecting a reply. Silence, thankfully. You don't fucking know, I said, kicking away my saddle-pouch virgin fir chin strap with unique function gold boot click strap, watching it spin off in disgust. You don't fucking know either, I whispered, more softly. and noted a pang of terror, in my own voice as I repeated the realisation, alone in the Sanhedriin desert.
I was alone. You may admire my courage. But I had to free myself of the distractions of the surreal, all this finding beauty in the ugly, and ugly in the beauty and confusions that are truths, and truths that are contradictions. And a sick and twisted world where, if not quite desired, for the first time in history the chin has women wanting him, albeit comparability with the layering on the purse buckles, but I think I speak for him when we say we'll take what we can get and we ain't no snitches and and we ain't no hunting for charity neither. You hear me Joe. Round of loud denials from those swearing they couldn't wear it in public not even in jest. There are some things simply too hi in the hi-end.
The shame...some didn't find the idea one worth joking about. And made their feelings known with a hiss, and a hex, cursed eerily as they fled it's presence.
What have you done, old boy. I asked the chin, who's leaning into the mud jauntily, like a beach spade. Why do they hate you so. You had to have been more than merely fearsome. Some dark acts long since hidden away, in a secret history? The silence seemed to scream an admission of guilt. (unable to independently verify, pending 3rd review High Court).
*I feel an academic responsibility to note the unsubstantiated link between the occult movement and the chin may well have developed from this lazy request, perhaps by a child or immature witness, unable to understand the communication between my eyes and those of the chin, did not - as alleged - burn bright with fire. Perhaps it was a glare, or the child is defending someone, I would think her parents, by fibbing even though I have pointed out on my word that no such demon connection has been made.
One connection has been, however, the official warnings, linking the clear pattern of miscommunication, finding a root cause in fear and confusion and incompetence, the 3 hallmarks which seem to follow, the path of the chin in active movement.
Whether contrived or not, history will show the Chin became the talisman for the larger occult cells and sects, even being used by high priests in burnings, and sacrifices made in penance or made to please the dark powers.
And protocol says we must save the old lady. Give him one, boss? suggested my 2IC. Mostly wishing to appear capable of pity, rather than actually caring, I made as if to consider the proposition before rejecting it out of hand. Monster physiological studies are still in their infancy. There is much we have to learn, before we can safely exterminate it and move on. My foolhardy attempts to skip ahead in the workbook were not overseen by faculty and are unrecognised and unsupported in this version or discussion.
Many have already ensured their own replicate chin will remain, as ornamental coffee table bookstop, or gaudy cigar stand, a chin-themed intentionally tacky knick nack or bric a brac .
I settled for a cheap clay ripoff which broke within moments of inspection, and my attempt at anger at having been ripped off (for it is more embarrassing to have not spent the money, than to have spent it and been scammed) receive poor reviews. There are Facebook pages, vilifying those who suffer multiple scams, others exalting them. It's all very compelling. If a bit tasteless but I admit I bow to the experts on hi-end fashion, apparently slim ties are in, out, then in again, a third cycle would be news to me.
Still I do envy the proud gleams of those who can afford a passable unauthorised replica. Every one of the 400 or so high quality fakes asserting that they have the missing 1, which scientists say is either fleeing, in terror...or has been snared by hunters who seek the ivory glass, of the square bucket of that trademark shape which has caused so much needless suffering. And so many confused half questions, from vashonistas unsure whether we were wearing the horror ironically or whether we were unfashionable. I would never say, just look up with a vacant stare past their cheekbone, look confused then return to my task without pause or indulgence. Some girls would be moved to groping. I was widely considered very hi, too hi to estimate for merely general (hi-so) ranked professional estimators of hi.
That week I was forced to swoon in ecstasy as the chin mooned it's suffered cry across the galaxy, to all sufferers of the night, and beyond.
The chin would alternate between ironically beautiful and haunting, melodic and representative of the suffering a race of dispossessed peoples, fleeing horrors surely like those preceding the chin.
Horrors we all surely knew, or feared. Unmentionable horrors. The sort one can fight with courage, because fear has been processed long since all cupboards bare, death assured, heroes all. hurrah.
But always refer only in the abstract, or with codename like Jbbmanix
hof
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