Step right up, Ladies and Gentlemen! For ONE DAY ONLY!!!
Bookstooge, that international man of mystery, that scallywag that made a fool of Poirot, that debonair playboy who taught Bruce Wayne everything he knows, that world travelling thrill junky, the artist who taught Moby the art of Music, the man who ACTUALLY painted the Mona Lisa, YES, THAT BOOKSTOOGE!!!! is here today.
No subject is OFF LIMITS. Bookstooge will reveal the secret that started him on his path of skullduggery, the whirlwhind romances he experienced, the near death experiences, the thrilling adventures, the moment when he saw the errors of his ways and became A FORCE FOR GOOD!
So step right up, gentle beings of the galaxy and for a pittance, a mere pittance, be entertained, be astounded, BE AMAZED at what you will see and hear.
It all started that fateful night. I was born! Much against my wishes I am told and as the years have rolled on, I concur. Oh, the pain within and without that could have been avoided if only my parents had died in that car accident. Christened Marstal Thrasble Youngylis the Fourth (and no, my father was Jedibiah Smahck, there were no previous Marstal Thrasble Youngylis’s), I came into this cruel hard world with a name to make grown men weep and beautiful women shudder in horror.
When my parents didn’t die (in car accidents or otherwise) and I realized I would never be adopted and thus have my name changed, something inside of me broke. The rage grew, the inner torment began manifesting as physical flames and I began to invest in DuPont’s Nomex fireproof line of gear. (By the way, that stuff REALLY works. I’ve made a bundle off of my investment. )
But whenever I would grow close to a beautiful woman, they were always driven away by the flames of my passion. I burned too hot, too bright, too fast for them. I was destined to be alone, forever. Until that fateful day that I met Miss Librarian Girl. She saw my flames and instead of running away screaming, in horror and despair like so many before, she just threw a bucket of water on me. Surprisingly, once I got over the shock of such an occurrence, I realized that I no longer burned uncontrollably. Thus was born, BOOKSTOOGE! Defender of himself, One Man Reviewing Machine, Spewer of Outlandish Tales and the kindly soul you all have come to love and adore.
Since I am in such a good mood today, I have decided to let you ask me questions. That I will answer (ha, I bet you thought I wasn’t going to include that part). So if you have ever wondered anything, or actually nothing but you want to make silly crap up, now is your time. I’ll put up your questions in a separate post next week and answer as best I can. Be warned though, I am Bookstooge, contrarian extraordinaire.
The only caveat is that I will answer NO questions, and I mean absolutely ZERO, on the subject of porkchops. I am simply not at a place in my life where I can deal with such questions. Thank you for understanding.