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I think I would make an outstanding Oracle. Think about it. I could sit in my apartment, burn some incense (or something else) and disperse advice in a gradneouse, cryptic way. The money to be made in this market is astronomical.
Madonna. Because she'd enhance my both spirutally and physically. I'd also want to meet Napoleon Bonaparte and smack him for invading Russia in the Wintertime. Also, I would like to commend whoever invented Sam Adams Cherry Wheat Beer. Delicious. I should also take the time to mention that I love pickles, and despise ketchup in all forms.
Anything my brother produces
"Why shouldn't I work for the NSA? That's a tough one. But I'll take a shot. Say I'm working at the NSA, and somebody puts a code on my desk, something no one else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East and once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels are hiding... Fifteen hundred people that I never met, never had a problem with get killed. Now the politicians are saying, "Oh, Send in the Marines to secure the area," cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, getting shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number got called, cause they were pulling a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some kid from Southie over there taking shrapnel in the ass."He comes back to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so that we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the little skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. They're taking their sweet time bringing the oil back, of course, maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and fucking play slalom with the icebergs, it ain't too long till he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic."So now my buddy's out of work. He can't afford to drive, so he's walking to the fucking job interviews, which sucks, because the shrapnel in his ass is giving him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starving cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they're serving is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what did I think? I'm holding out for something better. I figure fuck it, while I'm at it, why not just shoot my buddy, take his job, give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected President.Cinderalla Man is my favorite movie. It's not how far you've come, it's how far you're willing to come back.
There's a passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you." I been sayin' that shit for years. And if you ever heard it, it meant your ass. I never really questioned what it meant. I thought it was just a cold-blooded thing to say to a motherfucker 'fore you popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this mornin' made me think twice. Now I'm thinkin', it could mean you're the evil man. And I'm the righteous man. And Mr. .45 here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could be you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is you're the weak. And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin'. I'm tryin' real hard to be a shepherd. -pulp fiction
My ultimate heroes include the East Side Riders, Team A, Stuey from the family guy, Socrates, Sosiginous, Ruben Sierra, David Cone and everyone involved with that fiasco in Rutgers involving the Isreali high school girl and Fred Sinister.