Category Archives: GTA

April 18, 2024 · 2:41 pm

actual museum this time

I wondered why these two little figures of the same person were running around a Kangerootown table under the watching eyes of two looming rabbit creatures.

Then when I found two normal sized figures of the same in a nearby fort, my interest was really piqued. The name of the object was Magnum, created by Magnum Yoshikawa, obviously a self image of sorts.

His profile picks quickly led me to this shop in Kowloon’s Gate City, one of the most notable locations in all of Our Second Lyfe. Places like this are a big reason I keep hanging around the game. 🙂

His created museum there was *big*. Then around the corner…

Ah hahaha. Mr. Price! Well, the same Real Life guy who *plays* my Grant Price who is actually called Freddy Price. You remember, the guy who guards Bull’s Bar and is now the same or has incorporated the figure of Gray Man from the LSD Dream Emulator game. I’d be insulted if you forgot *that*.

This find certainly acts as inspiration. I must locate this “Greg” avatar if possible and purchase!

Reference video here, perhaps the best one about Second Life® ever made and certainly the funniest I would imagine. And the best video by the prolific auteur Mr. Moon period as far as I’ve been able to check, the Freddy Price ones included (although they’re very very funny in stretches too).

Ticket to Hell

More on this soon (!).

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March 29, 2024 · 3:28 am

00420404 (Mr Price Too)

So to bring all this together:

“The two processes across the road from each other are one. It all broils down to a chicken situation. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? This represents the art on the two sides of Grant Price Hill Rd. in Bear Lake PA, human-made and who-knows. Why does the chicken cross the road? Because he’s already on the other side. Add in Happy Town and we have the full explanation. The blurred out figure beside the canoe is Gray Man. And… he’s probably Grant Price too.”

“Or Grant Hill,” Baker tries to quip.

“Has he shown up yet at the bar? Grant Price I mean?”

“No,” answers Baker to Hucka D. “But I believe he might be in the alleyway outside.”

“Guarding the place already?”

“Maybe (!).”

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March 28, 2024 · 10:01 am

00420401 (Mr. Price)

“I-I don’t need someone t-to… guard it with his life, j-just… be around.”

“We’ll be waiting in the shadows,” his new client assured the owner of the bar. “Ready to strike when they make the wrong move. We’ll keep it clean here.”

“I like that. And if they *don’t* — they gotta pay the price.”

“Now you got it Dragon.” Points at Dragon. “Now you got it.”

—–

“So what is this magazine you brought with you today, Baker Bloch? SecuroServ? Who’s that?”

“Let’s call it a… bleed-through from another reality. One important to know about, Wheeler.”

“He’ll probably be showing up soon,” he added. “To secure… and soive — just a warning.” He picks up the magazine from the counter and hands it directly to her. “Being the manager of this here bar, I’d recommend studying up.”

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March 28, 2024 · 3:54 am

And then…

… Colorado to end, an enlargement from the past. ‘Nother one.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0317, Bogota, collages 2d, Falmouth, GTA, Washington, Willow Hill

March 27, 2024 · 4:35 pm

00420316 (two straight shooters)

After he improbably made one himself (he didn’t have his glasses on for one thing) he went up to the board to take a closer look at the resulting hole. For a brief moment, he went “inside.”

“Ah, I think I see what you mean about the bullsear, Dragon. I think I see what you mean, heh.”

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March 26, 2024 · 7:18 pm

00420315

“Hucka D., there’s no doubt that this newer and truer Aisle of Palms in the same named town is connected to our Fal Mouth Moon animation. There’s even an equivalent of Steptoe Butte there in the background if we extend our draw distance to 512 and then shorten it back to 128 and take a photo before the landscape shortens again in turn. Mount Chinhae we can call it, after the sim it is situated on the lower end of. Sacred after this I would suppose.”

“Fascinating. Keep it up.”

“The bar with the red rooftop to the left, like the dart in the collage is red tipped. Tipping allowed after all in the bar.”

“Tone it down a bit,” Hucka D. requested to this. “Focus on the *obvious*. What are we looking at?”

“Jack’s bar, obviously. (Bull’s) Ear for a target (name), but we had to settle on Bar since we couldn’t get the needed lights in the ‘B’ to stop functioning and turn it into an ‘E’ — shame.”

“We’ll work on it,” said Hucka D.

“So instead the dart turns into a cigarette or cigar which may be the same as a joint. This indicates that Jack is smoking hot. Icily cold later on. After the process is finished. The ear is removed from the side of the mountain revealing Lloyd the bartender for who is really is. The fuse on the bomb is lit. The color inverted VW, yellow at the beginning, speeds on to its destined destination.”

“Boomb! Bullsear!”

“Should be,” agreed Hucka D., already hatching more plans to make it so.

“What did you just call what you did, Dragon? Bulls-*what*?”

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March 25, 2024 · 7:11 pm

00420314 (snow)

“Is that sup-pose to be… me? IS THAT… suppose… to be… MEEE? What’s going on here? Wh-wha–”

“Let me show you your future to explain,” I said back from beyond the 4th wall.

“Yeah okay yeah I guess I see your point I guess I see.” He shook his head. “Jack, eh?”

“Jack,” I said. And then I showed him where I took out (the) yellow.

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March 23, 2024 · 6:53 am

“Yellow Jack” shaping up (also: Conejo)

She was at the point of auditioning acts for the new bar. This one was a stand up comedian from Cork.

“What do you call a parade of rabbits hopping backwards?”

“Receding hare lines,” he answers himself after a beat. She finds that joke especially pertinent, since she copied a lot of this decor from a place named Rabbit Island.


Rabbit Island items: free to copy yourself!

“I don’t need to hear any more,” she spoke up. “You’re on the bill.”

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February 7, 2024 · 6:41 am

00410706

“The only Theft name of *any* kind in the US according to the old GNIS database was ‘West Central Texas Auto Theft Task Force’, a building in downtown Anson TX. The new database contains no listings with Theft. The old location, the whole *name*, was *stolen*, in effect: theft of Theft.  I actually visited the site and found no Auto Theft Task Force office, much less a whole building devoted to the matter. I looked all around the supposed address, with only a bricked up side door and an unmarked back door fitting the Google Map directions. My theory is that it only existed in the first place as an indicator.”

Petty was furiously taking notes opposite yammering June Bug Johnston at his small office in the so-called Cement Village, hidden itself from the surrounding town of Aisle of Palms. The discovery of the 2 matching Dennis’ issued forth a torrent of words. She was *so* close to the answer (The End). The sun having rising about a 1/2 hour back now, he was late for his other job at the Perch Restaurant. But Manager Percy would understand. Overlaps sometimes happen with such a busy soul. Many a night he postponed sleuthing activities when a late dinner party arrived, or a bus full of tourists pulled up 5 minutes before closing. Too bad Percy doesn’t believe in phones or he’d ring him up. Mother’s exploded after she left it ringing too long one day; killed her and mortally wounded Aunt Gertrude who was playing strip poker with her at the time. Blew off a valuable piece of her body but she survived. His mother Wanda Bertaaa Doris’s naked parts were scattered about like a broken Humpty Dumpty. Speaking of which…

“… Humpty Dumpty sea ship modified into a space ship,” June Bug continued in sync with my own internal dialog. “Jim the Bastard Pirate–”

“Wait. *The* Bastard Pirate? Jim Randolph?”

“The same. Anyway he was *suppose* to pilot the ship all the way to the Red Dead planet but he crashed in the sea. Thing couldn’t take the pressure of the strange atmosphere and anyway, he took the wrong ship indicated by his pirate pal Black Pearl, wise in such matters.”

Chef-Inspector Petty, still an inspector despite being on the clock as a chef (and a waiter), thought back to his giant self peering out over tops of internal Cement Village buildings to the new ship parked out back, ready for space exploration according to all the rumors and gossip about town. The *correct* ship according to Black Pearl. Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate had gotten the wrong vehicle from the right creator as we spoke about before.

Petty’s sharp ears then heard the ominous roar of a tour bus roll into town from the south. “*F -it,* June Bug,” he cussed, checking his nonexistent watch again. “We’ll have to resume all this in another post. Gotta get to the restaurant!”

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February 3, 2024 · 4:36 pm

straightening out the past

They’d found it at the bottom of the sea just north of the boat house where she was staying. An Anton avatar was there in the Anson sim — so close of a name it couldn’t be an accident. Spiderwebs covered this orange version of a VW Beetle but she knew it was the same. Had to be. Someone was playing Grand Theft Auto in Our Second Lyfe and it all led up to this place. Shoes inside, she recalled. Of a ruby variety. Stolen as well.

Roger Pine Ridge kept looking at the flickering white glow beneath the water that he knew was Anton. Shoes stolen; mission accomplished. Like finding the ruby slippers of Oz, he thought. Anorexia’s gonna be pissed off as hell.

He looked over at the green robed woman beside him, face harshly illuminated by the glare of the flashlight she held. Scars. “I’m just waiting for the significant other to finish up inside,” he explained from his *self named* chair.. “How about you?”

—–

Cyberpaperdoll walks out of Fae’s Boat House with 50,000 lindens in hand.

“Come on, Biker,” she said just above a whisper toward the closest Pine Ridge chair. “Time to go.”

“Don’t forgot to sign the guestbook out there!” Jim the Pirate Bartender called from within, a request they most definitely ignored while leaving.

I should have kept the name Kelp, she pondered while still staring at the pirate ship in the bay from the balcony of the big white empty house. The owner, Shippe, *must* be the same as Jim the Bastard Pirate from back in those days. Too coincidental (once more). And as Anton is likewise close to Anson, so her own chosen nickname at the time, Kelp, is to Kulp, as in Nancy Kulp as in plain Miss Jane from the “Beverly Hillbillies” TV series, replaced by similarly plain Miss Janet in Grand Theft Auto, Ski Inn bar parallel. The one who woke up Philip Strevor to who he really is.

Apparently the opposite happened to his partner-in-crime Marion Harding back in the past which may be the same as the present. From the same deck she sat on and read her book of spooky stories in the dark one year later, he dove into the sea that represents the unconscious, intent on finding the vanished auto that was his little Bug. Where did it go? Back to the beginning of this here photo-novel? Think, June Bug, think!

Then she realized: Chef-Inspector Petty would know about Anson. He was there with Baker Bloch when the original auto was found. He’d probably have records of it in his files.

Now to figure out where he ran his private dick nighttime business in Aisle of Palms. In Perch Restaurant as well? Another 2n1? So many questions, but we’re still indeed nearing the very end of the thing.

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