Tag Archives: No Lag^^+++

May 9, 2026 · 2:17 pm

00500210

Turns out there was already a band called The Mosquitoes that appeared on “Gilligan’s Island” during the 60’s so Shelley decided to return the name Silver to her own band, reverting them to the Silver Mosquitoes. “Never mind the ‘Gilligan’s Island’ band was mythical and not real,” she said to anyone who cared at the time. “It’s still something that people might remember and then get confused about. We’re *not* mythical, he he he.” They were primarily a Beatles cover band here so Shelley thought the addition back of Silver was appropriate in that way too, further tribute to what she and all other members of her present band, save one, thought of as the greatest rock group of all time and who were, yes, once known as the Silver Beetles before they gained fame and notoriety. They weren’t on that level, she knew. They may never grow out of their Silver phase, cover band forever. But she still had plans. Was the lone non-Beatles fan No Lag still a part of that? We’ll perhaps see in parts 03-06 or 07 if not the present one. Back to the action… TBC


passing back of the “silver band”

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April 27, 2026 · 8:45 pm

00500204

Daisy spotted the problem right off. No Lag simply didn’t show up well against bar owner Bull’s chosen backdrop. And she knew he wouldn’t change it. Stubborn as a… well, you know. Daisy dared to voice the issue to No Lag; after all, who else was there to run the place. Bull was always “away”. Wheeler was she and she was Wheeler. So she felt she had no choice but to act.

“No Lag,” she said to her, approaching the stage from her usual behind-the-bar position. No customers right now. Rehearsals for No Lag’s band still. “You’ve got classical nailed, I admit.”

“‘Classical Gas!'” issued No Lag to Daisy about the last tune she played, which even contained the word in its name. Her hearing was worn out because of all the gigs down through the years; she can’t tell what level she speaks to people any more. So she usually just defaults to shouting.

“Good, nice.” Great, actually, thought Daisy. But she had to bring things down, *act* like she was kind of pleased but not super pleased about the music, the strumming. “You… the backdrop,” she got to the core of the situation.

And with this, No Lag just faded into it, her story no longer vital for the present photo-novel. Or at least the present section 02 of 06 or possibly even 07 (although a 7th hasn’t happened in a while, perhaps 3 or 4 back by now). Spotlight on lead singer Shelley instead. She simply took over… everything.

And new mesh feet ta boot! She decided to kick classically constrained No Lag to the side and take the band in a solid rock direction, changing the name from Silver Mosquitoes to just Mosquitoes. They became a steady buzz after that in the music industry. Not sure if keyboardist/DJ Okama Majo was kept but it’s a good possibility since he’s only partially obscured in the above photo. *Photo*-novel we’re in after all. 1/2 the story in theory, with one feeding off the other to make, hopefully, a new whole. It seems to be working (!). Getting back into it…

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April 10, 2026 · 12:30 pm

00500114

“Okay, Father Fecked. Wake up. Time to go home.”

Father Fecked stirs from his slumber. “Hrmmmph,” he says, bottle still in hand. Always. Along with the cane in the other one.

“You’ve got to go, Fecked,” reiterates Daisy Flathead, running her bar again but underwater this time. Bull’s Bar. She’s just a manager this go around, with Bull aka “Yellow Jack” being the owner. But she’s okay with it. For now.

Father Fecked stretches, yawns. “Hrrrrrrrrrummmph.” Smacking of lips. He looks around, just realizing where he is. Oh yeah, had to crash here, he understands through the brain fog. Nowhere to stay. “I– have—”

“You haven’t got a place to go, yeah I know,” says Daisy. “Frank and I have solved that for you. You can return to the castle. You can have your old bedroom. Just—” Daisy stops here, decides not to mention the drinking, the night wandering around the castle. *Their* room that one time; Fecked and Philip *both*.  And they can’t lock the door; have to keep it phantom so *they* can enter. Stupid, primitive castle, she sometimes laments. But it’s such a nifty vintage build. There are advantages to old too.

More smacking of lips. Finally he makes eye contact with her. “My… *bedroom*?”

“Yes, Fecked. You can go back. You can return… home.” Hard to say that word for her. *Their* home, ugh.

Smacking of lips, looking around, then eye contact again. “Home?”

“Yeah. I just need to clear you out of the bar tonight. No Lag’s playing in a couple of hours and the place should get pretty packed. *Hopefully*. Because, you know, I need the money. Sea Monster set me back you see.” She starts cleaning the beer glasses “Go on, now. Shooo.”

“No… Lag,” he manages in his gruff way, turning toward the stage.

“Yeah, the local genius guitarist. Haven’t heard her yet. But she’s popular. Drew in over 35 at The Burg last weekend, almost broke the sim. She’s a known commodity, as they say.”

Meanwhile…

“We’ve thrown in this bed — just like ours, guys. I think you’ll like some of the new moves, he he.”

Philip looks around. “But where will I take my wees?” Now that the castle’s big tongue is gone, is the unspoken part of his question. Philip loves to dangle his willy off its tip and pee into the landscape below.

“Grass,” Frank instructs while waving. “All around.”

Philip decided that would have to do, or Nada did for him, eagerly eyeing the bed. TBC

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December 27, 2024 · 4:19 pm

00450402 (eclipsed)

Looking across the ruins of the Candy Shoppe — destroyed by Jack the Dogg back in section 02 — toward the Big Victorian House with the LSD Dream Emulator mini-museum we just saw his cohort Fink the Humann sitting in. To its left in the picture we have the Wheeler managed Bull’s Bar, still dutifully guarded by a version of Grant Price also reseen in the current photo-novel. He’s now working as a janitor in a Liberty City Burger Shot after a 10 year stint in prison, his days as head of SecuroServe long behind him. But some old colleagues are about to refind him and lure him back into a life of crime which ended his security agency career. We’ll see how that develops soon.

Let’s move inside now…

Further…

Alright that’s close enough.

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May 6, 2024 · 2:05 am

00420612

It took a supreme effort for him to break away from the Big E or, alternately Big Schwa always sitting in the middle of his Aisle of Palms’ Kidd Tower dining table, ready for further examination and scrutiny. But he did it; returned to his hometown and his Bach/Reger/Kajiura played on a silver cello purchased in the Isle of Love. He played to his loving doll Mob (pronounced: Mobe), who listened with rapt attention as usual.

Good ol’ Mob. He misses her when he’s away… plus the cats big and small of course. And he just f-ing needed to get away from the band for a while. No Lag was pushing them in a classical direction, Shelley was pushing them in a rock direction, Don just wanted everyone to call hogs like him, like the kid he is. Be like me! he indicated all the time with his actions and speech. But bar manager Martha Lamb wanted him there as a kind of front man and bar owner Bull Dragon (or Dragon Bull; *not* Ball Dragon or Dragon Ball, though) went along with it, seeing the appreciative crowds. Maybe they’re getting *too* big, too popular, thought Okama not once but a considerable number of times in the last week as they did nightly gigs to growing audiences. Poor opening act Marsha “Pink” Krakow who wanted to be a Ball herself wasn’t hacking it, though. He felt sorry for her, was *envious* of her even. Furniture comedy, he speculated at the time, watching her perform only for the ogling Thompson Twins if anyone at all. Like Satie had his furniture music. “Pay no attention to us musicians,” the eclectic Frenchman spoke to audiences of his day, over 100 years ago, so far ahead of his time. He said to just enjoy the pieces of the art gallery they were playing at, and so on. And so it is with Marsha but in a kind of reverse way. “Just enjoy the musicians on the stage over there; pay no attention to me,” she seems to broadcast lately. A conceptual art comedy piece in the style of Kaufman or maybe Hicks. But certainly not like iconic 50s star Lucille Ball as she originally desired, one of the greatest of all female performers period. This was undesired art but maybe she’s seeing the irony of it. He’ll have another word with her about the whole, er, *concept* when he gets back. But he needs to stay here for at least a week to calm his nerves. He needs to stay away from the Kidd (Tower) and he needs to stay away from the kid (Don).

Knocks downstairs. Wendy has arrived at her destination. Confrontation time; brace yourself Okama!

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May 2, 2024 · 11:50 am

00420608 (kenbaiki (ticket to ride))

She’d seen enough of Castle Town for now. She was buying a sky ferry ticket back to Kangerootown from whence she came. She’d heard through the grapevine that keyboardist/DJ Okama Majo had returned to his cat house there, taking his own break from Aisle of Palms and the Dream Emulator band he’s part of with classically trained guitarist No Lag V, hog calling kid Don without a last name, and animated singer Shelley Johnston Struthers who has 3 to make up for it and who specializes in Lennon songs like “Strawberry Fields” and “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” and the like. But despite that, Okama named the band, not her. All because of his artistic hero Osamu Sato, so close to his own. Too close. Shelley’s found that out too. “You’re *him*,” she said recently during an acid drop sponsored by LSD, tripping the light fantastic and drawing truth from every corner of the universe, only to forget the vast vast majority of it later, of course. Gray Man works in all dimensions when you’re on that stuff; perpetual darkness. Must – stay – away, she thought to herself afterwards. No more sheets.


on her way!

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April 23, 2024 · 2:30 pm

00420513

She didn’t understand. These kind of jokes killed it in good ol’ St. Dennis. The beheading was a shocker and a stunner there but here, just groans of, what was it, disgust? Even, what-*ever*? So when the main act started warming up on the stage to her right everyone who was anyone flocked over there, leaving her with, who was it? The ogling Thompson Twins? Obviously here for more than comedy or an attempt at such.

“Stand back, she’s mine.”

“Oh no you don’t,” said the brother, trying to regain the advantage.

Then when lead singer Shelley hit the stage and started dancing and singing to Linen to appease the band’s God, things changed once more. She became who she really was back on the Red Dead planet. Atlantis High Priestess aka Libra Neptune, inextricably linked with the other 2 girls in a symbiotic triangle.

How to get out of this?

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April 3, 2024 · 4:54 am

00420408

“Oh no! Look out Linen!”

“Behind you!”

They gave Okama Majo a cheap high-rise apartment in town so that he could rehearsed with his new band easier. Name still pending. Don wants to call it “Sueeey!” — totally predictable, still being a kid at heart and mind and all and not thinking of others that much while living in his own self-centric universe. Classically trained guitarist No Lag V is leaning toward “Gas Solid Liquid Plasma,”, with her as Gas and, as she said, the others will figure out their own state of matter over time. And then Shelly inserted her own name into the discussion: “The Dream Emulators”. Okama? Let’s actually give Okama “The Dream Emulators” suggestion and leave Shelley’s for later. Currently she’s off in her own dream world over on the western part of the Jeogeot continent, spending time with imaginary boyfriend Eddy D’Aigle instead of hubby Arthur, who may be out of town himself acting again. Shakespeare never sleeps.

He knew he shouldn’t do it but Okama is searching old tenant Mr. Babyface’s Internet history for clues about his nature. What led him to take that small boat so close to that Korean Channel funnel, obviously marked on the map, and get sucked in, never, it seems, to return to the land of the living? Soon — too soon probably — he comes across Babyface’s theories about an alphabet hidden in a column of sims on the eastern side of the continent, the opposite part from where Shelley currently is; she’s just that off-base. Okama is the one we should stay with…

—–

“Orgamast?!” he shouted, spotting the name of the “O” sim in the Korean Channel and realizing it was so close to Orgasm (‘nother one!). Let’s back up…

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March 31, 2024 · 8:30 am

00420406 (LSD (strutt’n Struthers))

“Sato is from the North.”

“From the North.”

—–

“She’s pretty good — ‘Classical Gas’ I believe. But her yellow-ish skin doesn’t show up well against the yellow background. NEXT!”

“What’s this electro-crap?” spoke Martha Lamb/Wheeler to Baker Bloch, who was helping out again. Wonder what happened to former helper Newt? Anyway, he answered: “It’s Osamu Sato, a very important figure now in the blog, or at least the current photo-novel. 42. Remember? We were suppose to answer everything in this one?”

“How’s that going?” said Wheeler to this. Very predictable. And right on the mark.

“And it’s played by Kangarootown’s very own Okama Majo. Very close. Maybe the same.”

“Alright,” Martha Lamb/Wheeler relented. “If you insist.”

“Arkansaw hog calling by a Fayetteville boy named Don — insisted on standing in front of the stage to what he called, ‘have more impact on the audience'”

“Absolutely,” judged Martha Lamb/Wheeler, not needing to hear more than a couple of ‘SUUUUUUEEEEEY!’s.

And then, ahem, Shelley Johnston Struthers to end. Had to be.”

“Always wanting the spotlight,” Martha Lamb/Wheeler started the complaints. “‘Strawberry Fields’ again from the sound of it.”

“Actually it’s ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’… to go along with the Osamu Sato stuff.” The chorus started.

“Ah yes, I see. Comes with Osamu? I mean, Okama? From Kangarootown? Golden Jim?”

“Yes,” answered Baker Bloch plainly.

“Okay, let’s see them all together now. Even the one I rejected. I’ve changed my mind.”

“There’s one more figure we need to fit in make it all work,” said Baker, who didn’t elaborate but perhaps didn’t need to. Linen. So close to Lennon as Okama is to Osamu. Shelley wasn’t actually singing anymore. Just channeling.

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