“Karl”
“Karl!”
“KARL!!!”
He finally turns away from the corn. “Yess?”
“Time to go home.”
Tag Archives: Karl^*+++$
00500309
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jacob_D._Robida
In the afternoon of February 4, 2006, Robida’s vehicle was seen about 1,500 miles (2,400 km) away in Arkansas, where Jim Sell, a Gassville police officer, initiated a traffic stop at the Brass Door Restaurant parking lot. After talking with Sell for about half a minute, Robida opened fire with a 9mm handgun, killing the officer. He turned onto Arkansas Highway 201 headed south and continued to Arkana, Arkansas, where he fired at Arkansas State Police Sgt. Van Nowlin. Police pursued him and laid spike strips; although these flattened his front tires, they failed to stop the car. Robida fled for about 18 miles down Arkansas Highway 5, where he turned south and drove into the small town of Norfork. In the middle of town he lost control of the car due to the front tires, spun out, and hit two parked vehicles.
“See, this is the problem, Daniel. As I’ve shown, Arkana is only 3 miles west of Norfolk. So how could this Robida creep flee *down* Highway 5 for 18 miles, then turn *south* — not north even — and drive into Norfolk. Something is off in this description. And I think I know what. The (Arkana-Arkawana) circle. Arkawana is 18 miles from that turn off, not Arkana. I checked.
“The circle… is… warps?” Could be, Daniel realizes, given all the other weirdness in this small area of the great state of Arkansas. Truth.
“We need to go in that oh so central library, see what they got. I know it’s *our* library in a way, more mine than yours in the end but you get where I’m coming from.”
“I do,” admitted Daniel. He’s all on board with this. Art only goes so far without writing never mind music. Art and words together, like in a photo-novel, yes. He’s getting the hand of this.
“And just from this wikipedia page, there’s more…”
On February 7, 2006, Jack Thompson, a disbarred attorney, commented on the incident, describing… the killing of Sell as a “suicide by cop homicide” inspired by Grand Theft Auto.[11] Police later dismissed the “suicide by cop” theory when it was discovered that Robida had fatally shot himself.[12]
Thompson claimed to have spoken to a New Bedford detective,[13] who “repeatedly” said Robida’s friends had said “he played the Grand Theft Auto games”. No further details have emerged, but the following day the Bristol County District Attorney rejected the video game link after examining all the evidence collected from Robida’s apartment and car.
“Who just showed up in Iowa in this here current photo-novel? (K)arl from Grand Theft Auto, and the main version that would have been current at the time (GTA:San Andreas). We need to get back to him, see how he’s doing. We got sidetracked in Beaconsfield. Now that you’re okay and back on the correct timeline, we have to follow more his story.” TBC
00500302 (The Heartland)
Soon he’d forgotten he had weapons and armor in the first place and was instead doing a bit of light grocery shopping for the Kennedys down in the hollow who were both sick on Pill (highly contagious!). Backwards Iowa just did that to people, brought them back to Earth where they came from, made them care about people again because there wasn’t a lot else to care about in this corn invested place of a state. Jack the husband said he wanted Kaboom cereal which he was trying to find. Fellow sugar addict and loving wife of 57 years Marge said that she preferred Lucky Charms so when he located the aisle with the cereal he’ll pick up a box of that too. Both were blind to the fact that this high sugar intake left them vulnerable to diseases like The Pill, lowered their natural immune defenses. “5 dollars should cover it all,” Jack said while handing him the bill before he climbed back up the hill into town again but he was living in the 20th Century still so Karl knew it would take quite a bit more than that to buy the stuff they requested. Luckily more in-tune-with-the-times Marge slipped him another 5 as he was going out the door — still not quite cutting it but maybe getting close enough where he could cover the rest with the two dollars a boy gave him earlier in the day for fixing a flat tire on his bicycle. That’s when he discovered he could be kind as well as mean, a kind of first in his weighed down, ghetto constricted life.
As he was checking out, he overhead bits of a conversation from the couple behind him, something about Hy-Vee here not being the grocery store it started out as, and in turning into a large chain it had lost that small village feel which made it so special in the first place. “Not like Beaconsfield, no,” said the husband of the two, obviously having a memory of this place in his head. Beaconsfield, huh, Karl thought. He’d register the name in his brain as Carla the Clerk’s register ran up $11.92 in total for the cereal. Phew! Just made it. TBC?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0302, Iowa
00500301 (When in Rome)
—–
Might as well give this so-called Abyss a try since I’ve managed to come across a key, lucky me. Not expecting much honestly, given what the game has had to offer so far. Entering…
Hypercube, huh. *Kind of* interesting. Resonant with some of my own stuff anyway. Desert of a story no more as promised by The Others? We’ll see. Passing through…
Iowa, *dangit*! Should’ve guessed. Different type of sand. One made of corn. Aw shucks, I suppose. And I lost my armor and weapons in the transition *sigh*. Must be a security thing. Have to fight off the locals by hand. Maybe procure some more weapons in a pillaged house or something. Here we go!… TBC?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0301, Crimson Desert, GTA, GTA old, Iowa
00500203 (seven = silver)
“I think it’s painfully obvious that I’m Noodle in this scenario,” lead singer Shelley Johnston Struthers spoke over to band manager Wendell Biff Carter, out on a break from rehearsing, their third of the night. Lots of STOPS and GOS for this one, like in a heated game of Mille Bornes. Trouble. Friction. Inertia. No one could even decide which band members were present or not. Sometimes Sherwood was a kid and other times a fully functional adult, albeit a brilliant drummer at whatever age he appeared. Things were in FLUX.
“Okay, I agree,” said Biff, thinking of all the changes and shifts and sputterings too. “We’ll make that another concrete truth of the blog and attached photo-novel,” he said, but, again, that’s probably me talking through him. So let’s leave out that sentence and say Biff merely agrees with Shelley on her statement. She is Noodle. She’s also Pink tonight. He approves of both. Then he brings up a subject he knew he shouldn’t broach.
“Listen, Shelley. I’ve been doing some research. Staying a classical, so-called non-mesh avatar is fine. But it seems people who choose to follow that path with their outward appearance at least get new and improved mesh hands and feet. I wouldn’t touch the head, though.” He looks over at her head, thinks of the smile (not currently present upon it, though), that beautiful innocence. No, leave the head for sure.
Shelley looks down at her extremities. “I’m not changing *anything*.” She was stubborn about remaining classical. She also likes classical vegetation, builds. Helps reduce lag. What’s not to like? She’s been around long enough to remember the good old days and the excitement of Our Second Lyfe when it was relatively fresh and new… and *non-mesh*. That excitement is still there but in pockets instead of an overall vibe. You have to dig a bit more these days.
“I *do* like the pink,” says Biff, trying to smooth over his mistake. We can build up from that, he thinks. Whatever happens, I’m *not* going back to the restaurant business. TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0203, Jeogeot, Rodentia 02
00500115 (dark and light)
I keep pushing and pushing, outward and outward, but I may have reached a limit. The Abyss.
I’m seeing things in the wrong places. JAX again.
On the other hand, there’s the magnificent Barkley’s Barnyard Critters videos. Rudy!
I pick back up the cane and run with it.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0115, ADC, Critterville
00490606
He broke away from her all knowing all seeing eyes, understanding more. Something was wrong, something was off. Sherwood *can’t* be first, since he is the youngest and hadn’t grown up enough yet to play the drums properly in the band. “Paper” *can’t* be second because Sherwood is too young to begin, and so on. Then it hit him. Things were playing out *backwards* from the red book he holds in his hands. Biff Carter — himself — came first. The manager to begin; he started everything. Then Scissorrun© — the band had several names before that, even. Yes, he’s remembering them now. And then “Paper,” their signature tune and their only “hit” to date, was 3rd. Then and only then came Sherwood, who had finally aged enough to join the group. 4-3-2-1 from the book instead of 1-2-3-4. Reading it that way everything fell into place. “Sherwood the rock solid drummer is last,” he began to reveal these thoughts back to Jennifer.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0606, Jeogeot, Pennsylvania, Rodentia 02
00490507
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
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0507, Jeogeot, Michigan, Rodentia 02
00490413
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)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0413, Jeogeot, Kentucky, Rodentia 02, Tennessee
00420307 (failed (no dance))
“I’m going to give you something at the end of your trial run that will seal the deal,” spoke Pot-D Sub Vice Regional Deputy of Internal External Affairs Buster Damm sometime during their meeting in the southern part of VHC City, probably more towards its end rather than the beginning. “It’s a skele-heart pendant. You wear it around your neck and we can monitor you at all times, know your whereabouts, what you’ve been eating, how your bowel movements are going, so on. Not creepy at all, right?” he tried to lighten the mood on the very serious situation. Crack Pot-D agent Duncan had been gone for weeks, maybe years. Buster had finally caved in to getting a replacement. But not without some serious study. His plan is that there will be *2* agents this time backing up each other, one black, as it were (like Duncan), and one white. Damm had strong suspicions that Duncan had disappeared because of the color of his skin. The southern part of the Omega continent where he was last seen — the so-called Dixie of Our Second Lyfe — remains in a quite primitive state in terms of racial justice. People like that could vanish into the night and not be heard of again. Buster said a lot of these same things to Karl, who graduated top of his class at Marydel State University of Connecticut’s Massachusetts. Nick, his potential new partner, did the same at another prestigious if traditionally rival college. Buster arranged a meeting between the two that morning. He had to split, he said, anxiously eyeing the light continuing to wash across the table they sat at as the sun rose on another hateful day. But not before saying, “take away the skin color and you guys have a lot in common. I think you’ll get along swell.” If you don’t try to kill each other, Buster also thought while he walked away but kept to himself. Worth a try. Results could swing wildly either way.
10:15:
“Hi, I’m Nick. You must be Karl. Putter there partner, he he.”
He couldn’t shake back because the matching animation in his inventory didn’t work for some reason. Nick was insulted that the shaking gesture wasn’t reciprocated. Karl was offended by Nick grazing his uneaten croissant with his extended hand — rude, he thought. The awkwardness continued when Nick said, “Hey if you’re not going to eat that croissant mind if I do? I’m starving.” He ended up eating his soup as well since his rather dirty looking shirtsleeve grazed the top of that in reaching to grab the croissant. Things had gotten off to a rocky start, Buster’s fears instead of hopes beginning to be realized. Maybe, he considered later, he should have just tried harder to find Duncan, find out what the real story is behind his disappearance. Maybe Dixie is not as bad as it use to be, hmm. One way to find out.
He left them trading punches behind the SoSo Bakery after yet another argument over a meal and went on his way.
“Get that nasty ass hand outta here you cretin!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0307, Heterocera, VHC City
Sunklands 