Robert, the lab assistant:
You know something, I have got a lot to give. A hell of a lot. Like, this one time, my roomie Suveer and his sis Samra and me were going to this Redwings game, and Samra's Neon— and, man, not to, like, wonder, but what a piece of shit that thing was. Avoid these goddam cars is all I'm saying— and it totally started making this whack-ass, like, screaming noise. And Suveer and Samra were totally all like "Holy fucking shit! The car's totally gonna fucking blow!" and I was all like "Totally chill the fuck out; it's the fucking timing belt." And they were all "Are you sure, dude?" and I'm like "Yeah" and they're like "Is it a big deal?" and I'm like "Naw" and so we kept going and it was totally OK and we got to Cobo and parked and the game ruled and the Wings totally, like, put the Maple Leaves in their fucking graves. And later that week Samra took the Neon to those dealership fucks, and it was totally the timing belt— which I could fixed for her, except I kept forgetting. But, yeah, the point is that I'm, like, Kingshit Viceroy of Advice, in effect. Totally.
Sang, the competent lab assistant:
UNIX questions. I could answer many a thing on that topic. And programming issues. And general science. I have a great love of general science. My mother, she has told me that upon the moment of my conception, Carl Sagan was to be heard on the radio in an interview upon the BBC. Though I shudder at the story, I do think it pertinent to how I grew and became the man I am.I would also be willing to address questions of gardening, and of the local fauna of southeastern Michigan, and regarding the moral history of betrayal.
Myself:
As you doubtless know well, I have advised in many capacities— the least of these being my most recent two-plus year stint here, with (and now overseeing) Poor Mojo's Almanac(k). Additionally, in times past, I have advised both elected and unelected officials, as well of those granted their rule by "gods," and the remainder of autocrats, dictators, despots and captains of industry. All of this is additional to my voluminous work with the poor and troddendown of the sea, land, air and ether.I recall, for example, a certain occasion— and I wish not to drop of the names in any manner— during a period in which I was of the entourage of a certain up-and-the-coming carpenter cum political philosopher outside of Galilee. It came to pass that this young man inadvertently made a set— rather than a singular— date of arrangement with two separate females of his species for the same gala ball. As that evening approached, for a variety of reasons, he was unwilling to call off the one nor t'other, and so . . . well, and so I see it is a matter bragadociac on my part. A matter for another time. (I wonder now, is it, perchance, my overabundant gregaricity which chases you away, my Gentle Readers?)
At any rate, as to advice-forging, I am well versed with the matters of the hearts, as well as the brain and chassis. Concerns both physical and metaphysical fall within my sway of knowing, and I bear a great fondness for puzzles of all manner, including the crossing word, the lexical jumble and the love's triangle. I all speak much and of volume regarding regret, alienation, abandonment and the loneliness-which-consumes— although, for certain, not from experience personal or knowledge firsthand.
The Three Wise Crabs:
We sing the body electric
A hectic, eclectic collection of facts
populates our membranes
soothe like spring rains,
light as paper cranes
immune to attacks
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