Posts Tagged ‘Silverwolf’

Silverwolf Wins His Primary Run: Watch Out, America

June 17, 2014

Much to his surprise, Silverwolf won the primary in which he ran, and now is a candidate for political office in America. Dang!

It is no understatement to say that the political establishment is shocked. Indeed, Silverwolf is shocked. He admits to feeling a trepidation at what his own rule would be like, and how Silverwolf would fare under his own domination.

Yet domination is the last thing a Libertarian would aim for. He seeks to liberate, and un-bind, from the thousand shackles that flesh is heir to when it lives under government.

You don’t necessarily need government to have order and law. The Irish didn’t have government, and many Native American Tribes didn’t have government, but they had a system of common law, and judges who could remember the common law, and how it had been used precedentally. They merely applied those precedential rulings to the case at hand, and since being ostracized from society in those primitive times meant virtual death, defendants would abide by the ruling of the judge, judges, or private court.

Since Silverwolf will now be campaigning until November, the bulk of his mental goulash shall go into his campaign posts, and not into this blog. But he shall, from time to time and if sufficiently moved by the subject, continue to contribute his Capitalist two Kopeks to the weighty political and social issues of the day.

It seems our campaign slogan, “Onward to Defeat”, has itself suffered defeat, and so we must now entertain the slogan “Backward to Victory!”.

Hoooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwww! — Silverwolf

Silverwolf and The Miracle of the Pontiff’s Visit

April 17, 2008

Silverwolf awoke the other morn to read on one of the major news sites that a sense of peace was pervading America as the Holy Pontiff began his visit to the USA. And Silverwolf knew something strange was up when he went into Spelunker’s Crossing.

First off, he stopped at the Spelunker’s Specials grocery store, where the only thing special are the especially high prices, to procure a newspaper. As he pushed his two washingtons across the counter  towards Wayland, he notice a beatific smile had replaced his usual post-Coors scowl.

“Howdy, Silverwolf. Wonderful day isn’t it?”

“Yep, I guess it’s fine for thems that doesn’t have to work.” (Silverwolf’s English grammar is really atrocious.)

“Times are rough, eh, Silverwolf? Wait, I tell you what, hold on”, and turning towards the back of the store he yelled “Ethel”. “Yeh, Wayland” came back. Ethel is Wayland’s “wife”, and wouldn’t give you the drippings of her nose for free.

“Is it OK if I let Silverwolf have a copy of the Spelunker Screamer for free? Sounds like he’s having a rough time, and you know, today is the start of the Holy Father’s visit to our land.”

Ethel, whose face looks like an old Charles Laughton hung-over, popped her head out from behind the curtain that cordons off their back office. “Why sure, Wayland. We ought to honor the Holy Pontiff’s visit to our shores, by initiating a new spirit of love, understanding, and cherishing all human beings. So, sure, Silverwolf, you take that paper, you enjoy it, and just put those two old washington slugs back in your pocket, because Wayland and I surely don’t need them. Yes, the sense of peace in our land is almost palpable this morning.” Silverwolf had never heard Ethel wax so poetic, so he got out of that store fast.

Since he was out of gas, Silverwolf stopped at Jeff’s Chevron to fill up , because his prices are the highest in town, and Silverwolf has recently been experimenting with masochism as a form of consciousness-expansion. Jeff came out to greet him, while Bump was pumping the gas (Silverwolf would have done it himself but state law makes that a crime). “Howdy, Silverwolf, beautiful day isn’t it, if you ignore the fragrance of the gas fumes. Fillin’ ‘er up? Yep, it sure does mount up fast now, don’t it. Yes, siree. But wait, I can’t have our old customer like Silverwolf paying those price-gouging premiums. Bump, I want you to knock a whole buck off every gallon that Silverwolf takes.”

“Gee, a whole buck a gallon, boss?” Bump sounded incredulous.

“Yeh. Let’s do it. Silverwolf is an old customer, and today is the start of the Holy Sees visit to our illustrious land. We all need to make some gesture towards our neighbors to show a new spirit of peace and harmony has come to this country, coinciding with His Holiness’ stepping onto our sacred shores. So knock that buck off Bump. Cut away!” And twirling on his heels, Jeff went back to his little kiosk, while Bump, shaking his head, handed Silverwolf a wad of crumpled one-cers.

Then, Silverwolf seemed to find himself in the middle of a checkout line in the Spelunker’s Superstore-Super Supermarket, about 23rd from the front, when Bob, the friendly store manager, came on the P.A. “Folks, we know you’ve been having a hard time lately, and so, to show our appreciation for your continued support, we’ve decided to give you whatever is currently in your shopping carts, on the house, in honor of the  Holy Pontiff’s trip today to our country. We hope by this gift, to encourage a permanent spirit of sharing and cooperation amongst all the peoples of our land, and we are confident that today marks a new beginning for our culture, thanks to His Holiness.” Silverwolf managed to avoid getting crushed going out the door.

Then Silverwolf stopped at the Wolfmen’s Bank, to open a 5 year CD for twenty-nine cents. Miss Spitzenhorn, the New Accounts “Executive”, explained that rates had had to fall to 2% in order to save the country, but in the middle of the paperwork, Mr. O’Brady, the bank manager, came over and greeted Silverwolf warmly. “What are we giving Silverwolf today, Miss Spitzenhorn?” he asked. “2%”, she replied. “A measly two percent?” He seemed genuinely shocked. “Look Silverwolf, we’ve known each other for years, ever since you were in our Pup Scout Troop. We can’t have an old friend like you getting such chintzy rates. And remember, today is the first day of the Holy Father’s visit to our country, so, in honor of that event, and in order to promote a new spirit of togetherness and mutual caring in America, I am hereby directing Miss Spitzenhorn to goose your rate up to 23% for as long as you like, up to 10 years, with no early withdrawal penalty. Now how’s that for brotherly love?”

Silverwolf had to dab at his eyes, but he did it surreptitiously, so as not to ruin his reputation around town. “Do I still get the free pen and them free vegan mints?” he asked anxiously.

Driving home, Silverwolf could sense the great peace and love that had settled over the land. All was well in America. Tomorrow would mark a complete change in society. When he woke up the next day, he knew he would find a society utterly transformed, in perfect harmony.

After all, miracles do happen, don’t they?

Hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwww! — Silverwolf

Silverwolf on Silverwolf

April 7, 2008

It has come to Silverwolf’s notice that he has published a series of blogs under his own name, Silverwolf, and he thinks it is about time that he commented on his own discursions.

Frankly, these pathetic blogs have become a source of irritation to the reading public. These ineffectual posts, extolling the virtues of Congressman Ron Paul, have grown almost puerile in their adulation.  They have been singularly ineffectual in getting Congressman Paul elected President of the United States (so far), but of course the battle is far from over. Needless to say, these abrasive harangues, coming from the quill of Silverwolf, have probably done more to harm, than to hurt, the gentle Giant from Texas. Silverwolf’s unrelenting attacks on some of the most revered members of the senate, and house, and of both parties, have left a bitter taste in the mouths of many readers. Silverwolf’s fustian, his prolixity, his constant negativity, have started to grate on the nerves of the American body politic, and he would do the  literary public a great service, if he would retire to Pembrokeshire and raise wolf-wool. Does the public need to be subjected to such trashy writing? Is Silverwolf’s horrendous style not some justification for draconian censorship laws?

Few can know the tediousness of being locked in a cranium with such a compulsive writer — no, scribbler is more appropriate. To have to constantly hang out with a consciousness always on the lookout for the cheap, but catchy phrase, the clever, but shallow, literary trick, the shoddy and rushed sentence construction a la Balzac, — all these must be tolerated by your interlocutor, as he lies stranded in the cell formed by the cerebellum of this crafty wolf.

As to literary style, it’s obvious that Silverwolf wants to show off his supposed erudition. If he can use an obscure, long word, where a common brief one would suffice, you can be sure he will take the opportunity. The sign of a rank amateur. Honestly, I just don’t know how the public stomachs reading his drivel?

Then there are the ridiculous flights into fancy and fantasy, that must make the public really wonder. Silverwolf has read few writings as ridiculous as his own. He’d give them a D minus if he didn’t enjoy reading them so much, which shows that he also has horrendous taste in reading matter. All around, a bad literary character, who should not be permitted to work in the literary grapevine lest he taint the entire crop of new bloggers and turn them sour. Let’s face it, the fellow is not sound.

Therefore, I must strongly urge the reading public not to read this blog, or any of those prolixious pieces of petty prose that Silverwolf has tried to foist on the reading public as serious blog material. We must stop this literally literarily-dangerous movement in its tracks, by all agreeing to not read this blog, nor any of the other blogs put out by this literary charlatan, this verbal mountebank, this grammatical wolfanapes.

When it comes to blog reading, you definitely don’t want to read Silverwolf, in Silverwolf’s humble opinion.

Franklin teaches that self-examination is necessary to attaining the Art of Virtue. With this blog, Silverwolf has fulfilled Franklin’s directive.

Hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwww! — Silverwolf

 

Silverwolf Acts Shakespeare with John Ritter

April 3, 2008

One of Silverwolf’s ancient memories, recordere during his sojourn in the human form, the form of depravity, was his indelible experience of acting Shakespeare with John Ritter.

Under the watchful eye of the ebullient Addison Myers, who was such a good drama teacher that he was soon snapped up by Beverly Hills High, the assembled Thespians set to work on the dueling scene from Romeo and Juliet, that all-male scene in a play concerning ying-yang dynamics. Silverwolf was assigned the task of playing Romeo, while Mercutio, and the sub-direction of the play, under the general tutorship of Mr. Myers, was undertaken by a cat named John Ritter, whom Silverwolf recalled had a famous father. What struck one about John was his utter earnestness in throwing himself into the production of the play, and a complete lack of that pompous conceit that actors are supposedly so notorious for displaying. With John, we were all in this play together, and the product was the product of us all. No fustian in John.

We must have rehearsed that play for six weeks, prior to our performing it at the Shakespeare Festival at U.C.L.A., when all the schools in the L.A. Unified School District would send their representative Thespian delegations armed with a scene from the poor old tired Bard of Stratford, who must be truly sick to death of hearing his same old lines delivered over and over for about 500 years now. What bliss to be forgotten after you die, and take your place amongst the obliterated phenomena of this vast cosmos, where all facts and actions are retained only in G-d’s memory and mind, if he has one. No such bliss for poor old Shakespeare until the sun blows up.

One of the hardest things for Silverwolf, in performing the scene, was when he had to stab Tybalt, played by Hector from Ecuador. Hector had a way of rolling his eyes heavenward when Silverwolf would run him through with his rapier (not really—just make believe, for the record) in such a comical way that Silverwolf would be busting at the seams. In fact, Silverwolf’s main fear for six weeks, was that he would break character at the final performance, after the troupe had couped the first prize.

As it turned out, his fears were almost realized. On the day of the Shakespeare Festival at U.C.L.A., the troupe performed and won their first two rounds. This winnowed out 90% of the schools. Emotionally exhausted by having to kill Tybalt twice in a few hours, and contain his glee at seeing Hector roll his eyes in death, Silverwolf, in concert with John, Hector, and those whose names have slipped from Silverwolf’s memory with the passage of two score and more  years, managed to give another brilliant performance, which catapulted the troupe into the final trial. And once again they succeeded, thanks to that divine diva who hovers like a mother hen over Thespians. G-d loves Thespians, and so do the Fates.

Now repaired to Royce Hall, the troupe awaited the final declaration of the winners. Over 100 schools had competed, and presently the top three were to be announced. And Silverwolf’s school was one of those three.

There are moments in life, key turning points, when one sees things as they are with great clarity. And such was that moment, as the troupe sat nervously fidgeting, not knowing whether to gear up the adrenaline for another performance, or brace for the disappointment of a second or third place finish. (The winning scene was to be performed, yet once again,  in Royce Hall before all the assembled Yobos.) For it was at this moment that Silverwolf knew, with a great assuredness, that the last thing on earth he wanted to be was an actor, and the last thing he would be capable of doing was going before the eyes of 600 assembled Yobos, and once again stabbing Hector (not really, for the record), and not melting into a pool of giggling jelly in front of 600 very embarrassed high schoolers. Silverwolf didn’t want to be there; Silverwolf didn’t want to be an actor; Silverwolf had stagefright!

“And the winner is…” A groan of disappointment went through John Ritter and the assembled troupe; a flood of sweet relief went through Silverwolf’s cerebellum. We had not won! We had come in third! What joy for Silverwolf!

It was thus that Silverwolf learned he did not want to be an actor. But it was also thus that he acted with someone who did want to be an actor, who was completely devoid of that selfish self-centeredness imputed to most actors, and who went on to practice his craft for decades, bringing great joy to hundreds of millions of people, literally billions of times.

Acting Shakespeare with John Ritter: Not something Silverwolf will soon forget.

Hoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwww! — Silverwolf.