Tag Archives: Charles Anson^*++

March 3, 2026 · 7:25 am

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Gorillaz, working as a team, a true 4n1 or TILE, are able to defeat the giant malignant worm thingies and move on to the next phase of their musical career, 8 I believe. Or is it 5?

Anyhow, the Spirit House here cannot stand up to their combined red yellow green blue powers and breaks apart and sinks into the earth where it came from; Hell, I suppose.

So what does this have to do with *Chet’s* band Scissorrun©, back in Rodentia on the continent of Jeogeot in the metaverse of Our Second Lyfe, or at least My Second Lyfe? Let’s move barside again at Walk By Night, focus in on the faces of the people sitting there this time listening to the band: manager Biff Carter and — let’s go with Jennifer Lane, all grown up from Jenny Lane like a forgotten, weedy road off the main beat. Like I said before, at this stage there’s only Chet on lead guitar and vocals and Karl on drums and backing vocals. No bass, which Karl will fill in later. Biff has made a decision about hiring another band member, the 3rd. New lead vocals allowing Chet to focus on his guitar. Or at least that’s how they broke it to Chet. In truth — as I also reviewed a bit before — his screechy voice leaves something to be desired for commercially minded Biff (raven-like he put it before). And he convinced Karl that they couldn’t scale to the top of the rock heap as they desired unless some changes occurred in that area.

“Let’s list out the Scissorrun©-Gorillaz comparisons as they stand now,” he says to Jennifer, trying to put everything in 1-2-3-4 order while checking his notes in the red book he always carries around these days. “Chet equals Murdoc, but lead guitar instead of bass. Karl equals Russel, but eventually moves to bass instead of drums. You are 2-D, a new sweet lead vocalist but with a change of sex — and also you have to age to where you are, ahem, *now*. And then, um, Noodle.” Biff is suddenly stymied. Noodle maybe should be the new drummer to replace Karl? But what about little Sherwood who, like Shelley, also has some serious growing up to do before assuming that role?? Things still need to be worked out before moving into *their* next phase, 1 I believe. Only the beginning.

“Look over here,” Shelley says to Biff to end. “Look into my eyes.” Library in there, he sees. All the news of the world. TBC

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February 23, 2026 · 6:34 pm

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It was now time to see the band in action. In this early stage, Karl was on drums, not younger brother Sherwood who was still quite too little to play, although his talented hands could already snatch flies out of mid-air circling around his crib without fail (but, bigger question perhaps, *why* were they circling there, ho?). No bass guitarist in the band, then; Karl would serve that function in the future. Only him and then Chet on lead guitar and vocals, with Karl supplying backing vocals when needed. I’m debating whether to say that Chet, like his pretty much double Murdoc from Gorillaz — unplanned most of these parallels between the two fake bands are once more — gave up his role as lead singer to another, for Murdoc’s case this being the also red masked crooner known as 2-D seen in that last post of this here current photo-novel. Hmm. He doesn’t sound *bad* as I sit there at the bar, listening with restaurant manager turned band manager Biff Carter, last seen in Tonsiltown I believe. Or thereabouts. But he also certainly doesn’t sound “good” as in a traditional way of singing, even for rock stars. More commercially minded Biff was thinking along the same lines because he said over to me about a minute into “Paper” (their original single and perhaps their best still), “kind of sounds like a raven in heat, doesn’t he?” and then he laughed but also he was kind of crying a bit too. Because he knew he would have to go back to the dirty 1 dining room/10 x 10 foot cooking area/small shared sex bathroom with no sink restaurant on the edge of town if this whole band thing didn’t pan out. Yeah, he was mulling it over I could tell. No harm done in *auditioning* singers, he may have been thinking here. As long as Chet doesn’t know. Karl? Maybe he should let him in on it too? Karl surely doesn’t thinking Chet is the best of the best in terms of vocals, knows they can’t scale to the top like they desire with him as frontman.

Meanwhile, Jenny Lane sings solo down at the Mago docks as Charles Anson looks on. He’s cooking up a plan, evil of course as is his base nature. Is this the girl? he asked himself after the singing came within earshot as he kept wandering around town, looking for… something. Had he found the one in his dreams at last, a siren’s call across a chasm separating good and bad like Tennessee from Kentucky? He had to find out.

Anson, he thinks while the high pitched, golden throated warbling continues. The child’s name will be Anson too. Now to get to work on that time machine. (TBC)

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February 23, 2026 · 3:37 pm

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Attracted by the smell of gunpowder and old rifle grease, Charles Anson pulls up to Rodentia’s Communal Amory and Workshop on his motorcycle, intent on going inside and buying a couple more weapons if he finds them adequate for his needs. But his attention then shifts next door to the BUFC sign. He remembers seeing that logo on a bucket of chicken his assistant Tony was eating on the set of one of his Gorillaz produced videos back in the days; thought it strange at the time that he’d not heard of the brand. BFC: close enough.

And a red motorcycle again ta boot, he also recalls about the involved “Aries” shoot. He works with synchronicities and resonances in a malignant way this time (like a worm) to adjust his stream of thoughts toward this town fer sure. Noodle must be close.

Gorillaz singer 2-D wearing a red handkerchief mask at the end of “Aries”, warning everyone to be safe during the COVID pandemic. This is obviously suppose to represent Chet, or at least his idealized golden throated singing side. The lead guitar side remains with Noodle. (TBC)

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February 7, 2024 · 6:41 am

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“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 6, 2024 · 6:02 pm

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He gives her time to look around the office, check out the maps, the painting, the works on the bookshelf, even the files in the filing cabinets if she wishes. What does he care? Sleep deprivation again we’ll assume; might as well burn the place down, he thinks while yawning for the 1000th time tonight. He finally gathers the energy to enlarge himself again — *just* enough to do the job (no overshot or undershot this time!). He waits for her to walk out, snooping apparently done.

“Find what you need, my fine lady?” he calls over, shocking her of course. It’s here he notices the face scars as she stares over with wide eyes. Too bad: otherwise quite pretty.

“Are you him?” she decided to stand her ground, defend her actions. “Are you Petty?”

“Some call me that. Some only know me as Chef. Or Inspector, depending on the time of day. Or depending on whether it is day or night I should say. You’re here at night. I assume you’re looking for Petty the Inspector, then.”

She approached him, scars looming larger. What *happened* to her?

“I also go by different names,” she said in turn. “Some call me Beautiful, some Plain. Some call me June, some Jane. Right now I’m June — night-time for me as well, I suppose. But the scars are there to remind me of Jane.”

“Yess,” he said. “Wondering about that. How did–”

“I just told you,” she cut him short. “I’m a 2n1, just like you. We have that in common but we have so much more. St. Lemon of Troy — the painting within. Do you know about Dennis?”

“Dennis,” he said thoughtfully. “Let me think…” Let me think of a *lie*, he says to himself. He *knew* he shouldn’t have hung that painting on top of everything else. His brain’s starting to operate better, perhaps because of its change back the correct size.

“St. Dennis, yes. The one that lost his head in the transition. The next time, the next go, he wore a helmet, golden in color. But it still didn’t protect him from the eventual consequence. So he had to be *deflected*.”

She know about that as well, he thinks. “Well,” he says to this. “Saints Hotel is a pretty nice place to stay, nice compensation. And anyway, I’ve heard that he and his *gang* have finally made their way down to the big city, the 8th wonder of the world some call it.”

“Where’s the auto in all this?”

“Auto?” He still couldn’t help play dumb within the flow of truthful revelations. Force of habit.

“You know which auto. You have pins of Yvonne, Dorenna and, yes, Anton inside on the Nautilus City map. Anton from Anson. I understand you were there when it first appeared, or when — I suppose — it first decided to reveal itself.”

“The Bug, yes.” Enough talk for now, he decided. He remembers that he’d locked the filing cabinets before enlarging himself tonight. At least he had the sense to do that. But perhaps it was time to look inside.

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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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