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Brinesanity – an abide jar, filled with all the fuqs given.

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Happy Birthday to…

What an incredible odyssey.

It has been a year since the site officially became mine.

I had waited over 8 years to be able to get past all of this, and before that – you have no fucking clue.
None.

You think I am not aware of what is “out there” – and what the “lines look like”…really?

Do you think a plan, that has been made for decades, even a lifetime if one considers it, is really just something that simply happens?

You have the sleuth ability to start to get hooked, and like the heroine town you may exist in, or the hero mind you do, you are addicted to taking it to the next level.

To finding out more, to getting past the reality of Survivor, and the fake fucking bandana’s and the bullshit positioning from Day 1 – “I am just here to make some friends, I am so naïve, I am so strong, I am so fucking smart, I am so fucking stupid…oh look, a tortoise with a hare on his back…do they even have hair…”

I know who the fuck fetaman is.

Pretty fucking proud of it as well, because I know it all – except for you.
You are the know it all I want to meet.
So does Gus.

He is interested in beginning to introduce himself over the next few weeks.
His biography is coming out.

Pretty fucking impressive, and having had the chance to not only interview him, but also having been given the chance to verify accounts, eyewitnesses and documented proof.

One of the strangest, oddest, brightest, most eccentric, gifted, smart, angry, loving, caring, compassionate, valiant abiders I have ever known.
If not the single greatest…

Gus runs on his own time.
So do I.

It is a birthday celebration and it is combined with a publishing. What more could anyone ask? I mean, seriously – what a long strange trip, and where are we still? Yes, just seeing some of the invisible brown acid come to life. A special K of sorts.

The biography, the story, of Gus…

Don’t expect synchronicity.

This is a delicate operation, and if you want to be part of it.

Welcome to it – you can either RT this link, direct with the question included, or you can #orangegrass it up, either is a chance to ask Gus, and I can assure you, he will answer.

Celebrate or don’t.
Trust me, this has nothing to do with hunching over anything – not a typewriter, not a water tray, not some village code, not a table of weed, not a set of bullets, not a conspiracy of shades that are something new…

I know.
Hard to believe.

Trust me.
I fucking know.

It doesn’t matter though.
Cause the clock, the watches – the story of Gus.

It becomes clearer with each passing day, and in the coming 30 days, how many and when are just beside the Fuqu Pyramid, just take a coat hanger and levitate near it.

There is a whole year to explore behind this, and there is much more for myself.

Being an interviewer, is one interesting experience.

Care to play?

fetaman/ _

*truly a wonderful, gracious humble bow today – humility asks for, and asks no excuses, for it too…*abides*

****this is where I insert my own happy birthday to fetaman.com – for the real fetaman, from the real fetaman, with a background heralded by associates. Go ahead, link from the site – fill in the question, I promise. I am pretty sure Gus would answer most honourable, logical and discretion sensitive inquiries. To the point of the dedicated box that is running the code – the rest, my…look…a shiny set of keys. Oh wait, it may be a text…did that arrive? No, must be a lonely time, grab the flash light…only 45 metres across the way…no, the...the way…

*************Yes, this is 13 of them, is that “code” also.

*******Gus thinks so.

*iAbide*

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Jesuit angry raccoon.

“If you’re going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you’re going to be locked up.”

Hunter S. Thompson

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Tuesday two steppin’

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I think this whole thing is a joke, and no one wants to speak out about it…why to avoid hurting poker? No the only way we are going to accept what the truth is with what has happened, is to be able to accept that what happened has happened, but do not try to fucking make me be an absolute asshole and believe that you did not know about separate accounts, or the need to keep your business, separate from the bitch you sleep beside? Really, so you are married – I was not speaking about your wife in the first place, so that folks do not think I was being cryptic, or evasive, really.

Fuck, and you sat on a board, that had all of this “common sense” – you are fucking poker player’s man, no one wants to compare you to a fucking CEO dude, you are a poker player, with some smart friends, that managed to make sure that the ultimate uber-level, this fantastic “usual suspects” (*does this strike a nerve, am I going to get some kind of ninja assassin to come back over to my place and just simply kill me?)

Holy shit, I can not believe I am watching this shit transpire, and I am at the 29:14 mark of the second video, and I had to do this, and then somehow tie it back to my site, the same kind of shit happened, with the wrong one’s getting the lime light, and somehow, the one’s that did all the work got fucked – sounds like some kind of bad WSOP tournament outcome…fucking jiving me?

Fucking joke, but then again, so is society, it is some bastard child that came out of the ass of Mary herself after she got pegged by Satan’s sister with a strap-on, a crucifix, a dead child hanging off her necklace, and laughing tax-man taking more than your soul to pay these bills.

Wow – this can be a real fucking gig, but there will be ZERO tolerance. The fucking liars, the cheats, the fucking pricks that do not simply stand there and say, yeah, it was a fucking gruesome bullshit taco – but someone needed to eat it, and I did not want to, nor do I – what do you want me to do? Wear a fucking carrot suit? I will, just make Annie the fucking broccoli.

I am guilty by association if I lay in a den of crack addicts, and this man can have stood at the alter of licking the cheat salt of the choda of Christ, well Jesus, and we now get to watch some half-assed attempt at a fucking Nixon tapes twat “asking the hard questions” – wow, I can’t believe I had to sign up here to do it, and I can assure you, TG the reason, not that fucking pussy licking the balls of the real dog now.

Say it like you mean it, and be true to it.

lmao  *e-thug sign inserted here*

fucking bullshit.

I really wonder if he will look that fucking good in prison – please, just stop this bullshit about giving folks the goods, when they provide some goods back to the right department – this is law? This is common sense? This is the reason that we get to advance a society and hope that we can make a real difference?

Yeah, funk and games.

What a fucking well orchestrated script eh? I mean, a genuine re-re-re-re-re-re-re – fuck, exponent, unreal dimension raise.

Who else could convince him to come back to actually do this sitting with the right ‘reporter’?

Really, you can not stand in front of a jury of respected peers, or minds and answer this question?

It will be too hard?

Like the nights you left the other’s sleepless wondering how the followed down this road of learned wisdom and followings from other’s only to come to the same realization that Locke did? I would think that is my Locke of the day right now in fact, thank you very much. As I sit here and listen to some of the shit that you are spewing, as the corner of the screen hinders my vision from your eye’s time to time, fret not, I will come back and watch this again, and again – how many times?

I am not sure, does it matter? You are going to always be the same, the words, are always going to mean what you want them to, and when you try to seek the mighty banhammer, the God’s will surely find a quick hand to lay down on your breath, and shush you back to sleep.

Fuck.

Making me puke, but then again, the idiot’s, the fool’s, the lemmings – they all grow, the move down the stream, do they remember the readings from mr. t. caum? Do they recall they scandals of the last spawn?

Do they remember the rubbing of sticks to create fire, as they heat the knife of Mac, who ran off with cheese to create a fortune, a fraction of a noodle and dehydrated curd at a time?

Woe is me fine sir, I have sat there, did not know that at 2:14 of the third episode, this douchebag could actually say, we “were never shown” that, or for that matter “no shareholder, was ever shown that…” – oh the mystery of the fine silk

So are you claiming here that you never saw “that particular” one, or something like it in fact? That you never even inquired about how that state of affairs might be – that as Rome was fucking burning, somehow, you sat there pretending your ass and thumb could create another great “iron-tard” competition to see how man tards would lift the weight of time, and health, and sleep, and effort, and study, and play – to become an IronTard © for FTP VPP’s…yes, you can become a Zeus Factor Player, simply keep passing us cash, and we will keep selling you gas, as we grope your wife’s ass, and then look around the life you lead for more sass…Jordan, one fine river, no?

Are you for fucking real Howard? I mean, please at least wear some kind of skull and crossbones fucking flag across your forehead to declare you are a dickhead, a major fucking mark of wtf on the IQ of the intelligent one’s, but don’t put me in that category…do you really think that somehow I would fall for it, and do something that may make me regret my last breath – like deposit on FTP after this?

I love the fucking game, it is fun, but it is not my life, and I will not let my life get taken by it – I will be entertained, I will win by luck or by crooked fate falling on the fucking cunts that try to bypass Abide Blvd.

The truth is, you can get to your Boulevard of Broken Dreams, with passing Abide.

You fight it, and it – well, it eats you only if you are lucky enough to have eaten the bar in the first place, sarsaparilla in hand or not…

I know this is jumping and I will go back and fill in some more of the review on the second go, but is he saying around 4:50 (3) that he is “offended” as a BOD, that he was “never made aware of this” – are you fucking kidding me – you KNOW it went into a 9-digit range, and then sit back and state, oh yeah, well, we should have seen some paper come across the desk, or at least the Bat signal go off…

You are a genuine con man dude. A fucking pos, that happened to hit some money with poker, and ran like a fucking con-man running well and now, I really do hope, not for the sake of poer, or letting many lemmings, as well as some real, innocent and genuine people – no I hope for the sake of humanity, pieces of shit like you are fed to wolves. For entertainment, the same way you can laugh with the champagne and the cars as you pass that poor bastard with the shopping cart heading into the caverns of the sewage you spew.

That way.
That same contempt, but mutated into my own malfeasance, covered with the icing of being able to know what a real fucking waste of space life has become.

Speaking of wasted space, I love the professional duckface leading up to 7:30 where he brushes off the “backlog” as well, would not have been an issue if we had money (insert slipper slope, or a slippery slope fallacy reference here for those that might appreciate the humor, and like a dog moving from side to side via it’s own tale) – yeah, we know we had small anecdotal stories about missing buy-ins, or couple days late with a syntax issue or digit issue from someone, no big woop – yes, that is a great place to draw a parallel – please, connect the 9 digits of backlog, with a “handful” of issues each day? Is that fair Howard?

Fuck you are good – did you do nothing but practice this off of the shit that Phil did post-UB? Look at him now, skating through it all, being so grand – is he not so pretty?

You can be too, just figure out what the old lady in the shoe was looking to do, and then move from there.

(*insert waterphone, or acid reference here, some kind of youtube video may be too long and ISP issue – go with quicker feta/fuck you asshole bullet…)

Oh yes, the 10th commandment was to use the world “clearly, they were hiding something in Dublin” – so let’s NOT go over there and ask questions, or fuck, based on the madness, even knock on the crack dealer’s door and inquire about any peculiar noises they may have heard – shit, you folks are crushing the DOJ, the State, the people – you can stare into those eyes, and repeat “well, what did YOU see?”

Say it enough times, and begins to sound like, well, what did you pee – no actually, it sounds like that almost right off the bat – I like turtles.

Same kind of logic, no?

We are far, there is an issue – bake cake, sing, dance – it is all good, see/hear/speak evil is so under-the-radar.

Pardon, how?

Easy, the amount of bullshit just piled so high, they had to move the radar higher, grown swell effect.

(*insert picture of ferris wheel, circus, some kind of funny show time/vaudeville bullshit – inject some laugh, this is getting pretty hardcore) – so onward, and I guess, supposed to be looking odd for using diff syntax, omg – like – totally…karma man – fucking chinks bombed us – sell them – steal fire – survive.

Where on the fucking scale are you, how do you think you are that much different than the rest of the world, and all it brought to this table.

Oh wait, yeah, you invented poker and how to scam.

Were you part of the original “star chamber”, or just the MLM off-shoot of it you got dragged into thanks to those negatives with you and Lee Jones, yeah a whole slew of pure pos-lemonade who know just how lovely, delightful, magnificent the blessing and parting are.

Salt atop a sardine, swim on top of swine. Toast with the most jam and the last butter on the block, and I do not mean the marlmelade or anything else like it.

Can you hear the words that are going to be coming fro your mouth, or have you closed you eyes and tried to at least type the last paragraph as yu prepare for you life in blindness.

Then they ask why so angry – because I am going blind, because I have the cancer, or the bad jeans, and somehow assholes like this fucking cunt, are allowed to walk.

LOL *head smack*

With a mess like this at 10:20, how was there still distributions? He is claiming innocence, post April 15 – “of course we need to find an investor, or fix this problem – if only we knew in Decemer or January…it was not us, it was HIM!”

Beware the drowing man selling you his shirt. He does not want to sell you the shirt.

I was never shown a balance sheet, or financial document that would have suggested we were in trouble, because if I had, my immediate finance senses, so keen and honed like the landing strips on our families genitalia, I would have been able to see that, to detect, like an investment banker the discrepancies…”

Um, you know how to catch bluff’s, if they are important, and you are in the game – how the fuck did you manage to not only miss the bluff, but the game in it’s entirety?

*shakes head*

SMACKS HEAD HARD – POV HST FUNERAL ROCKET

Brilliant – it was the game, a new game, more of a challenge, with 52 cards, played in sequence, in 13 separate universes…those will provide tangets we can cross over by blowing flour and honey dust over the beams…just don’t leave the memory stick behind…whatever you do.

*abide*

(fragment of the whole document…lol…message for complete version…maybe…)

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Gamble

“If a guy hasn’t got any gamble in him, he isn’t worth a crap.”

Evel Knievel

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Therapist Ingrid.

“The seeing of the therapist is an answer for some.”

The years that it took to get there, that is another thing – and the fucking chair, fuck.

The bullshit of having to hear her repeat, just one more time “but Ingrid says” – Ingrid has become a fucking bullshit voice that represents the ingrown toenails on your big toe, that you can never remove from the crown inside the meat of the toe, you know, where all it does is torment you, in any position. Fucking ingrown hair, right on the inside of the legs, in the special spot that all of the magic lessons are supposed to come from.

Ingrid believes…” sang the ball of confusion to my single daft hair. It was the left ear, and so it was kind of special, all the fuckers on the right got the front row seat, so with an equal opportunity for my disenfranchised friends on the does not feel like your own side of things, I kept my attention on the fish in the tank.

Wonder if fish would enjoy weed? Soggy munchies would suck tho.

This is how fucked society is, we are allowing others to tell us what to do, and how to run it.

“Listen closely, and do not think for yourself. There is a process to the paperwork.”

That would cause you be aloof, and obscure, you would be running amuck, and not in the right place according to the charts. These are the papers, that tell you that you shall be real, and well again. Do not worry about the other thoughts in your head, those are your own, and not for us to deal with now.

“We must take care of the social side of your performance,” she said with great curiosity.

Fuck, are my movements to apparent for this interview? Is she going to know that I did that, and where on the scale of the Klondike Bar would this fit? Is it ok to do that much, or should I have done less? What if it was a real hot day, and not only hungry, but thirsty?

Why in the name of all that is holy would anyone ever pick the vowel u? Who the fuck has to pick the vowel u, other than some – yeah, there is something hot about those legs, and with age it may come off as sounding sexist, but fuck. Wheel of Fortune has been on long enough, and we are in an open society. Physically attractive legs, are beautiful things, and we should be able to admire them. That is why they are groomed and made to look so delicious so we can enjoy them.

There – I thought it, that is a step.

Now telling Ingrid about what I imagine Pat’s legs to look like under those cuffed wool chaps he is wearing is going to be a bit of a challenge today, so maybe I can wait until after Maui Week.

“You must adhere to the rules, or you will not get any more assignments.”

Listening to the word is offensive, so don’t call them assignments anymore. Just hear objectives, sales objectives. The number had to be grabbed by one of the cogs. It was to be fed to another one, and into the machine went the dreams of the living, no regard for anything but keeping some kind of motion in tact for the performance reviews. They mattered, and not the lives of those vested in the funds.

The tulip farm was an ecological wonder, it was not without some pride the clogs just snapped into place. It was as if rhythm was a dancer, and he could feel it everywhere.

The sound of music the clogs made, three very distinct tones, Ingrid would never forget.

Wood across carpet, as it blended with the chords of metal along a zippered trail made for the Docker in you.

The small swift glance along the leather Herman Miller’s that were locked in place, long enough for three complete open and shut lids, in hindsight she wished she never allowed to get past the first blink.

The river dance of wood on wood was the golden pond of peace for him, for just that moment, for as the heels rocked him in his comfortable squat, he lay perfectly positioned over the papers on table and stared directly into her eyes, as he shit out dinner from Appleby’s the night before.

“Moon landing, shit cakes say what Ingrid?”

 *abide*

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Parking lot PhD’s

“A word to the wise is infuriating.”

Hunter S. Thompson

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Cheap food? No, the 50% principle

So I feel like sharing how cheap I am, and had to have a laugh, when I had a quick evening beverage with a colleague in life, and he said how…I said watch. I got a pair of meals, at half price by offering a simple solution.

The place we met was a discrete, franchise, where the pints are cold, good and about 20% cheaper. So we wanted some fries, I told him we would order one, with no gravy, and each have our own plates. So I offered the server a proposition, bring the gravy he serves for free. And then I will give him 50% of that sum (*with tax) as a tip. Not on the bill.

So he brings the fries, and the one is ‘cold’ so he leaves them, comes back with two fresh plates. And the free gravies. Original fries paid, balance at 50%, and here is the beauty…no tax on gratis.

You bring manager over, commend server for attentive service, thus earning two free pints at $0 cost. Total tab. 15 bucks. Tip makes $25. Total intake 4 pints, two fries, gravies, and cheese bread. Bill with tip if real?

$50+.

So def a win, and in fact, to the holier than though (*yes, in case too dense, I meant thou, with some sarcasm via text, but you are too busy smelling your finger) make sure you send the city a cheque for the parking time you got away with.

Survival of the fittest brothers and sisters, as long as the harm if anonymous…or is it?

Is this stealing? Doest thoughest casteth stoneth eh?
Then do so…afterall, this is thou Sparta.

*abide*

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Be, the ball

So you can see.

It is not about the wrath, it is not meant to be delivered to some kind of place that has to be, but it just is just like you are, I am always down with that madness, and you will see the odd look of the bartender when you say a double crown n coke, a tequila, and a stella…preferebly in nylons and stiletto’s…alas, not going to make a difference.

Momma are they going to drop the bomb, hush now baby don’t you cry…it will be good…so find the traels and walk. That ace was just meant to hit, you are a poker fool if you think variance will not hit you. Did I make the snap, did you. Well, not sure, I got to make the ride, and that was a good ride.

Courts and stripedardaments with nets and mesh.

Yeah, maybe I needed an al pacino slice, heated with the difference of bats and balls being discussed. Using one is an artform in many ways. Feel the burn.

I have a million things to say, I jump in you jump in the button clicks and…so what of it? When you move to the wild side, there is still greener grass.

Indigo skies man.
Orange clouds.
Mad wild times of this and that.
Is the bus passing, or can the mini van ride along side.
Daddy drives a Harley.
Heard it, then rise.
Flatline, cool, still a line and I abide.

So, here at the Zamboni pub your words move.

What you, determine is the most important part of the equation.

Be, the ball.

*abide*

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Not changed much, but we have still played.

9 years.

Wow.

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Fucking hell has poker ever changed…just not the same watching it on the screen.
The scams, the cheats, the bullshit AP/UB/FTP et al…just a cesspool.

Well fucking done, what a living…feed the sharks, and then cry about no limbs.

fuqtarded the whole lot of 'em, just can't beat the underground.

*abide fu*