tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61556382009-05-12T14:32:13.503-07:00Being the adventures of a hard-drinking, chain-smoking, dashing man about town, aspiring gonzo-journalist and mystery-man.The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comBlogger84125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1141082052717582572006-02-27T15:14:00.000-08:002006-02-27T15:21:25.466-08:00

Dime-store detectives,     Remember yesterday when I was all bummed out because of the loss of one of my favorite actors and heroes? Remember how I said that though I’d been expecting it, he was the one I least wanted to see go? Well there was someone else I forgot.     And today he’s dead.     Much to my dismay, and with a heavy air of sadness, I must report that Darren McGavin has died.

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1140948820748781462006-02-26T02:13:00.000-08:002006-02-26T02:17:22.546-08:00

Mediocre mush-heads of Mayberry,     I had intended on following up on the previous post with a continuation of sorts: something to further explain why I haven’t written at all within the past two months. A bit of catch-up; a retelling of the things I lived through, a listing of the highs and lows. But my discussion of the recent events in my life will have to wait. Something more important has

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1136428370353349742006-01-04T18:32:00.000-08:002006-02-25T19:54:11.860-08:00

To you, my new-years nogoodnicks,     This seems the title that feels most appropriate right about now. After my prolonged literary absence from your dull and dreary worlds, and two weeks of intensity and exhaustion, the title rolls off my lips like a gentle exhalation. Like a sigh of relaxation, really. There are a score of other titles I’d kicked around and thought of using, alongside

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1135158089145068722005-12-21T01:41:00.000-08:002005-12-23T00:38:03.453-08:00

To all ye of soft, smooth upper-class hands and ever dainty hooves,     You see this? My swollen, bloodied, and purple foot? The bruised appendage attached to my fractured ankle? That’s what crime-fighting does to you!     The life of a mystery-man is not necessarily an easy one, and certainly not at all devoid of personal injury. Oh, there are many things to be avoided when getting tossed

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1134815998853225882005-12-17T02:39:00.000-08:002005-12-18T10:15:21.953-08:00

To my old foe, my own personal Moriarty,     Since I wrote my last post relating to you, you’ve checked my page no less than five times, both from your work and your home. I’m going to forgo the obvious route of asking the question of who’s really obsessed, and simply assume that you’re not going to honor my request for some peace and privacy. No doubt you’ll be reading this again some time after

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1134722496225589562005-12-16T00:41:00.000-08:002005-12-16T00:51:38.876-08:00

Ye of Krypton, Mongo, Vulcan, and Earth,     Hmmm… now today was quite interesting.     After fitful dreams of Adam West, sweat-pants, the girls from the B52s, and transforming robots, I woke up, once more, to the sound of my electronic chicken screaming at me. It was hard lifting my head from the pillow, harder still uncovering myself from my blankets; the night had been a cold one and my body

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1134541536152316772005-12-13T19:25:00.000-08:002005-12-13T22:49:14.623-08:00

Vilest of villains,     Okay Nadya, this is what you want? A complete dismissal of all privacy? Fair enough, you were kicked out of the ranks of society’s most noble a long, long time ago, if, in fact, you ever made it in. I see you’re still the same rotten, mean-spirited person you’ve been for quite some time so let’s get some things straight.     First off, and for the record, I quit drinking

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1134519329705281162005-12-13T16:15:00.000-08:002005-12-13T16:28:34.080-08:00

Faithful fretters,     Wow, both these guys are dead.     I guess I wanted to write a little bit on the passing of Richard Pryor. As most of you know, he died recently from a heart attack. Now, Richard Prior meant a great amount of things to a great amount of people. The impact of his influence is still widely felt today. Much has been said about his impact on modern comedy. I’ll not delve

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1134118264783007382005-12-09T00:51:00.000-08:002005-12-09T20:45:18.193-08:00

Outed obsessors and deficient detractors ,     And I thought this had all been resolved…     I start with what should be a rhetorical question: if you were to attempt to ridicule me with a 100% accurate portrayal of yourself, would I feel insulted?     Not nearly as much as I would be amused.     Would you honestly believe that I could be bothered by a hypothetical statement of what I would

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1134029664045401632005-12-08T00:14:00.000-08:002005-12-12T14:19:33.640-08:00

My dear, dear devotees and special spuds,     Three weeks sober and looky-here! I’ve found my lost post from two months back…     Oh yes, I've gone and done it. We made it to see DEVO!     As of a few weeks ago I bought the tickets to the upcoming DEVO show in Oakland and to my very good fortune The Magnificent M came along with me! There we were, up in the front row, against the stage,

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1133926083065525082005-12-06T19:28:00.000-08:002005-12-07T02:26:26.576-08:00

Festive feckwads,     Well looky-here, there was a kid watching the whole time. That just means more fuel for topics of conversation during future therapy sessions. This poor lad will have many years ahead of him of trying to figure out and justify in his head what exactly Santa Claus was doing on this fateful night. Just something more to plague him when he’s awake in bed, alone at nights,

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1133680713609808402005-12-03T23:18:00.000-08:002005-12-07T02:27:03.400-08:00

Yuletide yokels,     I’ve been seeing this advent calendar around for the past month or two and the thing always brought me a chuckle, so I went out and bought the darn thing today before they were all sold out. I now own the only advent calendar I’ve ever had in my life. Why? The picture of course!     This was a particular favorite of mine while I was drinking, and now that I’m straight,

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1133424016494084442005-12-01T00:00:00.000-08:002005-12-08T20:32:22.896-08:00

Profusely perspiring porcupines, porpoises, platypuses, and pachyderms,     While thumbing through my hardcover copy of The Batman Archives the other day, I came upon this scene at the end of a tale in which Batman foils some would-be gold thieves. I immediately cracked an evil smile; THIS WAS BRILLIANT! I later showed it to my friend, The Red Rightwing, and he too broke out in laughter.     “

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1132831419728570132005-11-24T03:06:00.000-08:002005-12-08T20:31:07.070-08:00

No-name nihilists, I know what you’re all asking yourselves, “is that Gomez Addams? What’s he doing here?” Nope. It’s just me. I AM a master of disguise after all. Here’s a shot of me in my costume from Halloween, taken and saved here for posterity. It would seem all the pictures taken of me during All Hallow’s Eve have either gone missing, or been destroyed. Though this certainly wouldn’t be

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1132520461536722122005-11-20T04:01:00.000-08:002005-12-07T02:29:40.246-08:00

Chomping and chundering chums, I assure you, that’s a sarsaparilla in my hand. Well here we are, whiling away the last hours of day four of my newfound sobriety. I must say, this is going much easier than I thought it would. If there’s been at all any negative side-effects in this newfound path I’ve chosen, it seems so far that my only inconvenience is a persistent and demanding sweet-tooth

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1132230876944303022005-11-17T03:53:00.000-08:002005-12-07T02:22:43.486-08:00

Leering lechers, I woke up today sharp and fresh, full of energy and vigor, and without the faintest hint of weariness, as if my very nose-hairs had been plucked out by a goateed Mexican devil. Up I jumped from the couch, dressed in my Sunday best on no less than a Friday, with a grin on my face and ready to face the world. The nip of Irish whiskey I’d had the night before had left a

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1129757186919968542005-10-19T14:24:00.000-07:002005-12-07T02:24:29.096-08:00

My ravenous rubbish receptacles, Ah, never, it seems, do I have a chance to write anymore. Even when I'm not fiercely busy or over-exhausted from the constant hours spent at my job; even though I've curtailed the amount of time I spend carousing with the guys, I find that I'm instead finding all my free-time sucked up into romantic evenings or other such pursuits with my lady-love

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1124711033776103212005-08-22T02:00:00.000-07:002005-12-07T02:30:23.330-08:00

My anxious and anticipating automatons, Okay, well I’ve been away for much too long. The life of a justice-loving, crime-fighting mystery-man is a busy one. Even in the most mild-mannered moments of my time spent as my alter-ego I am kept quite engaged by a full work schedule and a rockin’ social life. Too many things have happened to me, and far too much have I experienced since the last time

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1120789298580797062005-07-07T19:17:00.000-07:002005-07-07T19:27:33.506-07:00

My fine-feathered finks, Oh, I’ve put this off for far too long. I come here not to bury Frank Gorshin, but to praise him. Being that I am a most beloved crime-fighter and mystery-man, it is clear to me as night and day that I would be absolutely remiss in my duty if I didn’t make some sort of mention of Frank Gorshin’s passing. Nay, I would be remiss in my duty if I didn’t indeed praise him. I

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1120648002328171272005-07-06T03:57:00.000-07:002005-07-06T04:06:42.340-07:00

My calculating carnivores, As I hopped up from my Batman and California Raisin-decorated bed this morning, I pulled on my robe and hobbled over to my crutches. Stumbling on my crutches down the hallway, out to the kitchen where I had pizza for breakfast, and then down the steps to my frigid Virginlair, I was surprised to find my loyal ape sidekick, Bobo the Virgin Chimp, tapping away at the

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1120307792578024972005-07-02T05:30:00.000-07:002005-12-07T02:31:08.783-08:00

O, how lowly and blessed the barf bag, this wondrous device that has protected many a carpeted aisle from the contents of our stomachs, saving both the passenger and the airline staff from inconvenience. Were Abraham Lincoln alive today, he might very well write a modern-day Gettysburg Address on the back of one of these waxed wonders. Perhaps George W. Bush has done just this very thing while

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1120305732040678252005-07-02T04:59:00.000-07:002005-07-02T05:02:12.046-07:00

Cackling Cacophonies, Oh, I’ve done you all a terrible disservice in the past month. I’ve not written a thing at all. Oh, I’ve written, but I’ve not posted a thing here; I haven’t had the time. But now is the time for you all to recover from this recent bout with literary sobriety. I’m back. Between my heavy-duty work-schedule, my numerous adventures with all my friends old and new, romantic

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1117106686705026122005-05-26T02:00:00.000-07:002005-12-07T03:17:03.500-08:00

Captains of Kashyyk, It was a fine few weeks. I’d been planning trips, dressing sharp, and kicking butt at job interviews. I woke up every morning at an early hour and done my daily runs faithfully, watching my collection of Devo videos when there was nothing of note to be found on television. I ran everyday but Friday, because I hadn’t slept well enough that night, and after five minutes of

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1116332793236890662005-05-17T02:00:00.000-07:002005-05-17T05:37:41.506-07:00

Please read the following: I have finally somewhat begrudgingly (and mostly enthusiastically) accepted that what all the others were telling me, despite my protests, was right. San Francisco is the single best town around. I denied my birthplace its praise, but now there’s simply no denying, the massive township which is my home kicks ass like none other, at least not of the rather sorry

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6155638.post-1115974691782904112005-05-13T01:46:00.000-07:002005-05-13T02:01:43.966-07:00

Wakey wakey! I was going to go to sleep, but suddenly I’m not tired. I suppose that means that I’ll write instead, though my thoughts are sparse and disjointed. I fell asleep to the sound of Tipsy and Queen last night, falling asleep much too late, then waking up much too early to the sound of Brian Dewan. Despite the master’s golden pipes, my eyes were heavy and I craved the warmth of my Batman

The Virgin Princehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03670412295065658445noreply@blogger.com