Tag Archives: Blue Moon KentuckyC2077^^++$

00490615 (from the South)

Turns out Frank’s visit to Rodentia was a red herring with Blue Moon and him arriving at an empty parcel after walking from the King’s Head instead of the expected, run down house with a death bed and observing chairs. So that the *actual* Mouse, reduced to a cane, could make his point. Frank missed him coming around the corner toward Petty’s detective agency by about 30 seconds (let’s set it) while standing outside Daisy’s Hole in the Wall bar. Close, The Powers that Be think. A little too close.

“Here!” he says gruffly, as is his style, cane indicating the final destination with the right hand while perpetually refreshed Jim Beamed bottle still firmly grasped by the left.

“You sure?” said traveling companion Plastiman behind him outside the queer, small building that seems so out of place in the otherwise concrete environment. They didn’t grasp that it was a developing mini-mall with several other businesses besides this one. They hadn’t rounded the corner yet, come across Frank’s phone spot and then Daisy’s bar just beyond. Nor Ray’s Pizza across from the bar. And I should mention, they lost Pigg and Bully somewhere on their journey across several Bellisaria continents/sub-continents and down the spine of Jeogeot to here. But I don’t believe they’ve even noticed, the two were so irrelevant to our overall story in this here photo-novel 49. Swiftly coming to an end (!). So let’s get to it…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0615, Bellisaria, Cement Village, Dokken Hollow+, Jeogeot, Nautilus, Nautilus City, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS

00490614

The layout of my Nawt Vaya Free State land on the continent of Jeogeot in the virtual world of Our Second Lyfe has changed. Frank’s Giant Castle in the Skies has now been moved down and grounded (in reality?). Cement Village, last seen in Aisle of Palms over a year back, has become the new business center, housing Daisy Flathead’s Hole in the Wall and more. Let’s go inside and see how she feels about it.

“How do you feel about the move to the old Aisle of Palms’ Cement Village?” I ask through Biker Frank.

“I don’t know,” she might answer. “How do *you* feel about the move of your Giant Castle in the Skies down to the ground. Reality?”

“Maybe,” he admits. “But, bigger picture, welll…”

“I’m not with Biker if that’s what you’re asking. Me and you: we’re still a team. Moving forward.”

Frank is overjoyed, overlapping his hand with hers on the counter just like in the beginning. *Now* the movement of the castle is a success.

“I feel safe here… safer,” she exposes her emotions on the new location. “Since I’m not right on the Nawt Vaya shoreline and (so) further away from the alcoholic sea monster. *Non*-alcoholic sea monster I guess I have to add now, since he gobbled up my first successful batch of personal (non-)brew along with the old bar!”

Both laugh. Frank had to ask this next: “Where *is* Biker, then?”

“Where was he ever? All I know is that he came from the south.”

“South, right.”

“Somewhere near the southern end of Nawt Vaya but not right on it. I went to his house, er, *once*?”

As if prompted, Frank takes another swig of the house beer while simultaneously withdrawing his hand from hers. Michelob Zero still, but not for long. New batch of personal brew in the works! He’s readying himself for another question, a one worder this time. Daisy knew she kind of screwed up with that revelation. “House?” he clips out. Swig again, hands further apart.

A call just then coming in on Frank’s phone. Ring tone: “Blue Moon of Kentucky”. “I have to take this,” he says, and goes outside for privacy. Mouse returned? he psychically senses. No, that can’t be it, he rejects the actually correct insight. He’s died twice already. Two’s the limit, right? Surely it is. Can’t be…

But that’s exactly what *she* told him that day in April’s May coming up behind him swiftly like a lion from March. Mouse has come back, kind of once more. And already on his last leg and death bed in one.

“W-where?” Another one word question, a one word answer back.

“Meet me there,” she said after giving the location. “By the big head in the middle. I’ll take you to him.”

Daisy wanted so badly to ask who he was on the phone with when he returned to his seat at the bar but dare not because of the look on his face. Sour! Tension in their relationship hasn’t quite been resolved yet. Doubts on both sides still. Let’s deflect the blame to AI again. Just to be safe, or safer.

“I have to go,” he said, laying one of Philip’s remnant teners won at cards on the counter as a tip. TBC

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0614, Cement Village, collages 2d, Dokken Hollow+, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS, Silverton, South Lake

00490607

Heavily pink clad Murdoc bursts into the emergency room, revealing himself as the savior. It took a while for the other band members to catch on but eventually they fell in line 1-2-3-4, as he knew they would. The Last Cult took form from that moment on, 4 down to 1 actually, backwards from what would be assumed. Murdoc was the Omega who had become the Alpha as end meets up with beginning again, bad tendencies transformed. Or so they thought.

But soon he was back to his old ways, spying on scantily blue clad neighbor Moon Flower through binoculars at their new, suspiciously cheap Silver Lake digs. He had to have her. This was his *dream* girl.

Ultimately — laying down all the cards — she passed him the choker “Under the Silver Lake”. TBC

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0607, California

00490604

Oh Jesus, he thinks, checking through the 2-way mirror on who opened the creaking door this time. Someone on the list for a change (!). And John on the john, unable to help me right now. Don’t dare yell over at him to hurry things up, he thinks; people next door might hear. Peter Oesso runs up to camera 03, quickly turns it around. BMK wants all angles so she can transform the video from 2-D to 3-D! Can’t screw this up. On cue, important person #5 on the list, back to the mirror, roughly pushes important person #4 onto the bed in front of him. Peter’s already noted she wears a green turtleneck sweater to go along with grey dress pants, indicating who she is. The man in contrast wears a grimy white tank top and faded holey jeans — working man, he’s guessing, perhaps on a break from the nearby factory given the time (noon-1 PM). Poor and rich, he’s determined; contrast of class. But also on the list. Blue Moon called them the turtle and the hare and said that he’d know them by her neck. The man starts berating her about coming too soon the last time and then climbs on the bed on top of her and proceeds to CHOKE her by that very neck. Should Peter intervene? Is this just part of the sex? Choke choke choke… oh god. Dead on the bed. DEAD… ON THE BED. #5 leaves the room, as if his job is done. Doesn’t try to dispose of the body or anything. Just: gone. Creaky door opens then shuts. Oh my gods, thinks Peter. Now *we’ll* have to dispose of the body? Is that… really why we’re here??? He understandably is terrorized, but just then, stirs from the bed. #4 is alive! he thinks. This must have all been part of the act, PHEW. After a minute to recover it seems, she gets up off the bed and approaches the window just as Blue Moon did before. She folds down the green sweater from her neck after removing some kind of pin, and unclasps a silver band from it, a silver choker if you will. Protection from the choking! Peter thinks. Ahh, this *is* an act. She proceeds to pass it to Peter THROUGH THE MIRROR.

At this moment, John finally exits the bathroom but Peter quickly hides the choker just given to him behind his back. Person #4: gone as well now from room #5, as if by magic, no creaky door noises indicating opening and closing. “What was all that commotion out here?” he questioned.

“Oh nothing, just tipped over in my chair.” It was the best Peter could think of. Would it work?

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00490513 (Blue Moon Kentucky)

Martin Allen? Where had I heard that name before? Ahh: *here*.

The front door creakily opens in the next room, as they’d set it up to do. “Your turn to film,” he said to likewise au naturale John in the chair next to  him.

“Um, no. Think it’s your turn, Peter.”

“Would you like to see the film?” It was here John realized Peter had turned the nearest recording camera around for better use that it was intended: porn shoots. Selective of course. Because this tended to be an old folks stop along Highway 66, perhaps revisiting a past trip from the 50s, 60s or 70s when the interstate didn’t exist or else wasn’t as overwhelmingly used as it is now. “Geezer sex doesn’t sell,” the boss told them emphatically. “Not really, not that matters for us. We’re in it for the big bucks. Don’t bother wasting film with those. Waste it on the important ones I listed out before.” But none of those had shown up. At least not yet (see section 06).

“Hey!” Raps at the two way mirror. “In there! Turn camera three around! I can *see* in there!” The Big Boss. Not a geezer, not atall. Young and full of passionate energy, probably too much so. But she’d given up on the bare bones of the business to follow a career in music. And what a career she’s having! No one knows she’s here, doing this stuff still. Peter Oesso and John Lockfry the 1st are paid well to hide that fact. Plus she said: “Blabber to the press — *anyone* — and you’re dead.” They knew she meant it. They’d seen the snuff films, one or perhaps several of which involved former employees with loose running mouths. Cheechee and then death. Not a combo you want to be facing.

She stepped all over Benjamin Franklin’s green toned face in leaving the room too. Gig over at the stadium tonight; she had to get prepared. Just reminding the boys here that she could stop by at any time. Anny-time. They had to remain without clothes. They couldn’t take any chances. TBC

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0513, Heartsdale+, Kentucky, Missouri, Pennsylvania

00490512

“She called me Martin. Not Murdoc. It quite irritated me, and I think I figured out why. Murdoc Alphonse Niccals I was born, you see, but later changed Alphonse to Faust when I sold my soul to the Devil for rock ‘n roll fame, as any red blooded, white nosed lad of his time would have, he he — just kidding about the white part, mind you (sniff). So to name me something else would maybe break the spell, the, er, *blessing* that the Dark Underlord had bestowed upon me. But — ahh — maybe that’s what she was actually trying to do, see,” he realized while talking it all out. “Martin, eh?” He turned the word around in his mind, examining different angles, different facets.

“And this was Blue Moon doing the, um, renaming?”

“Did I say that?” he responded, eyebrows raised. “I meant Blue Flower… eh hehehehe, *Moon* Flower. Yes, that was her name. Not the other ones. Although 2-D was certainly *her* blue flower. Sacrifice you see. Lamb. Just like…” He petered out here. He couldn’t remember anything else for a while. I put him back in his orgone chamber for recharging. I knew the upside down cross on the front would keep him there. The Fallen One.

—-

“Peter, yeah,” he starts when returning and after a sniff. “Sorry I…” He trails off again. Back to the chamber.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, Kentucky, California, 0512, 0049

00490102 (simultaneity)

Tree tattoo, front and back — no crack.

Which leads us to… these side-by-side pictures of the 2 very different appearing and acting Dennis the Menaces both emerging in our world on the same date of March 12, 1951, US and UK style…

https://www.plagiarismtoday.com/2010/10/18/the-odd-case-of-dennis-the-menace/

1951 must have been a very bad year to be named Dennis.

The reason is because on March 12 of that year two separate comics entitled Dennis the Menace went on sale, one in the UK, one in the U.S (Note: The UK version is dated March 15 but actually went on sale on March 12).

The UK comic Dennis, which first appeared in Beano #452, was created by David Law and published by D.C. Thomson as a comic strip inside a popular comedy comic book. It’s U.S. counterpart was created by Hank Ketcham and initially distributed by Post-Hall Syndicate as a syndicated comic strip for newspapers.

Though, based on this simple fact, many draw the conclusion that one of the two creators had to have plagiarized the other, it’s become clear that simply wasn’t the case. Not only did the two creators have no way of knowing what the other was working on, but the two characters are actually extremely different. The UK version is a true menace, a mean-spirited boy who likes to cause trouble, and the U.S. version is happy-go-lucky child that causes trouble without intending to.

US and UK happen to be the prefixes of two separate but directly related Cracks in this here blog and attached photo-novels, the first, US Cracks, a “real” band from the Cyberpunk 2077 game with a name derived from the expression “ass cracks”, and the second, UK Cracks, my reimaged and repurposed US Cracks headlined by a Blue Moon Kentucky instead of a Blue Moon period

Red anyone?


Blue Moon and Red Menace (and “divide the difference” Purple Force) of US Cracks

Simultaneously appearing US and UK versions of Dennis the Menace discussed in a 2010 *”Cracked”* article:

https://www.cracked.com/article_18788_the-5-most-mind-blowing-coincidences-all-time.html

Let’s switch back to Frank Lynn’s giant, mobile or wannbe-mobile castle home in the sky over in Jeogeot’s Nawt Vaya (Free State) for the next one, specifically its only bathroom, pre-Daisy Flathead 2nd date condition, he he.

Here he’s ogling “Xxxmas Belles” magazine’s 2025 centerfold beside an attempted 666 coverup of 3 more cracks — didn’t quite work this time unlike for the first picture of this blog post. “Damn, Miss Mistletoe you demon,” he says to the spread out centerfold before him. “I’m truly gonna miss you. But I have new lips to smooch. Better pull out my phone and call Daisy.”

Which returns us to Kentucky… TBC

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0102, C2077, Jeogeot, Kentucky, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS, RDR2

00460602

She was already on her 3rd coffee and 4th Blue Moon single of the day. From her solo period of course. She doesn’t like the Cracks, her old group, nearly as much, prefix them with US, UK or any other country — doesn’t matter. But her solo period, especially after the suicide/murder attempt (another reader’s choice): primo. Pure punk while also somehow remaining pure pop, unholy yet uncannily successful marriage of the two. She takes another sip while she listens to another tasty lick from the guitar of none other than Cary E., soon to be known as Car E. and then just CARE w/ all caps, logical terminus reached on the name transmutation process. Formerly of Sunamai of course, helping out Blue Moon on this particular track called “No More Big Leagues,” a minor hit that kicks off her first solo album “Louisville Cardinals” — playing on the fact that the state of Kentucky contains no actual big league baseball team unlike neighboring Ohio with its Cincinnati Reds and Cleveland Indians and likewise neighbor Missouri with its own double team pairing of St. Louis Cardinals and Kansas City Royals. But believe me, don’t let the name fool you, she imagines saying to her brother Ted, more fond of the Cracks (a Crackhead of course): the album is definitely big leagues, and she then imagines herself laughing at his irritation to this statement of fact. “Johnny Rose Bench” is also a pretty well known love ballad from side two. And of course there’s “Elvis Esley.” Or Isley — no one really knows which except Blue Moon herself and she’s not saying.

The old timey dial telephone rings beside her. Probably station manager Marty, she reasons, calling to complain that I’m playing too much Kentucky and to cool it with the Blue Moon. She decides then and there to play the entirety of the the “Louisville Cardinals” album, just not lift the needle off the spinning vinyl record after the first track is done. And maybe play all the rest of her solo work — in order — after that. Take the phone off the hook and just *do* it. She calculates how quickly Marty could get here from Chilbo for the canning.

Can of Worms, yes, she thinks while track 1 ends and track 2 (“St. Louie Blues”) begins. Just like in New York.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0602, Chilbo, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, New York, SG Park

00460506

“Investigating a murder, ma’am. Blue Moon Kentucky. Know anything? A-bout it?”

“My Son!” she cried upon seeing him beam in on a ray of light. “Come back to me.”

“No ma’am. Not your Son. Or your Sun for that matter if that’s what you meant. Despite the beam and ray thing going on here beneath me.” But then he thought again. Clue!

Barry De Boy wakes up, immediately googles “Elvis Esley”. Or was it Isley?

(to be continued)

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00460404

She was already absorbed in preparing for another case with an appropriate upgrade of clothes for a richer client. “Goodbye Ms. Brown. Do you need Wanda to help you back to the teleporter?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks!”

—–

“And so that’s how the whole thing started, the whole investigation thing,” Charlene began wrapping up her story told at the Uptown Bakery after the town meeting, Downtown having no such establishment and thus no option for them to support fellow Downtown businesses in that way. But, then again, Uptown has nothing like Emily New Moon’s adult oriented video store or Charlene’s records store specializing in vintage vinyl. “Sending Wolvie potentially up the Big Creek,” she continued, “but, lucky for us, wink wink, only resulting in probationary work. With me, ha. Working on my film along with Roberts. With her encouragement, I’m upping the bigfoot debunking angle. She’s got some major players involved now, bringing in some big money. We could be looking at Hollywood box office hit, Emily. I’m talking major leagues, Cincinnati Reds stuff. No more Louisville Cardinals.”

“That’s sounds fabulous,” said Emily to her friend, her lover on odd nights of the calendar with Wolvie taken even and them taking turns with the first day of the month, those always being odd and so stacking the *odds* in Charlene’s favor. They worked it out in a way. And then there was the problem of the full moon for Wolvie. Speaking of which, there’s one tonight…

“You know Wolvie’s right,” Emily New Moon said to Charlene after a couple more bites of her donut, trying to frame the words correct in her head. “Bigfoot’s real. It’s (munch), common knowledge on the Makah Indian Reservation where I was raised. My Aunt Whistling Bark saw them, or at least heard them. She was just unloading her trash at the Sooes Creek Dump. Recorded the sounds on her phone even.” She pulls out her cell phone from a back pocket. “Here, I think I have them saved—”

“No need, Emily. I know they’re real.”

“You *do*? Then why act this way? Why accept, I mean, you’re being *persuaded* to debunk the… I mean, um.”

“I know what you mean. You just have to trust I have a plan. Like *you* have a plan for your Blue Moon Kentucky video tape. Paired pet projects we can call them. You have withheld secrets and so do I, wink wink.”

—–

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of town in its Park District, Wolvie locks himself in and prepares for the long night ahead.

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