1430: Mack Bisclaveret

Some of the Funniest People I've Ever Known:

1. A former employer of a family member. He was like the king in some anachronistic medieval comedy (so determined to secure his Control and power, that he filled his castle with a comedy of errors). 2. An estranged family member, who is a sociopath and a convicted felon. Recently he has claimed that he is an undercover CIA agent, when (likely) he is little more than an obese couch-potato. 3. Dr. Oz, the metaphorical street-side magician with a magic wand and a greatcoat. His snake-oil is too comical even to be distrusted. Those are only three examples, only there are a lot of funny individuals in existence.

The brain is a weird machine. Have you ever needed to collect something specific? 'I am collecting soda-tabs for my school project. Give me all your soda-tabs.' - 'I am collecting Krystal boxes so I can make a pyramid. Give me your boxes.' - 'I am collecting pennies for charity. Have any pennies sitting around?' The brain does a similar strange thing, I have learned, where it tries to collect things that fit its project. Do you think there is a theme to your experience? Not so fast. There may have been many things which were contrary to the 'theme.' Only you didn't pick them up, because you weren't interested in that project. I guess the thing is, life was always full of things that weren't soda-tabs. Weren't Krystal boxes, weren't pennies. And I couldn't see them. I had one story that was so deep inside of me.

I've written many blog entries in the last few years. And generally, they all gravitated around a central story. In February of 2014, I summarized the story; these were the words I wrote: 'You want to know something . . . ? I'm not Real. All those songs and movies (in the world)? None of them were talking about me. The paintings and the games and the parties and all those things? none of them were talking about Bill Hill. were they talking about you? Yes, probably yes. Only they don't waste time on people who aren't Real.' Maybe my blog entries seemed more diverse than that. They talked about a lot of weird items and people; but really, they were all structured around that story. They all hinged on a project to collect Krystal boxes, this theory and this treatise on the Real and non-Real.

1. I miss you so much. You were so gentle, and so nice. But know that when you died, that's when my mind started to become truly renewed. And I can't help but feeling that, somehow, my battle against these monsters is partly fought in remembrance of you.
2. I miss you too, I guess. But I don't miss the mud that was our relationship. It's so sad how I was frightened when I felt that you were more powerful than me. Don't you realise how funny it was? You were just like that power-driven former employer. Power is a commodity in this world, but how silly it really is. How hilarious that I was crying over, essentially, one of the funniest people I have ever known.
3. I might say it's embarrassing the way that I worshiped you. Only I don't mean that it's embarrassing for me; more like, it's embarrassing thinking about how flawed you actually were. Dr. Oz got the best of me, that time. I believed that this snake-oil was the answer to all my problems. It may be a little sad, but really it's hilarious. And yet I'm not afraid to say, I miss you too.

I am so Real. I can't believe how much trash I used to buy, how I actually fell for the story about the undercover CIA agent. It's a little sad to remember, but again, it's hilarious. I am Realer than I ever knew, or Romans puts it this way: 'Be transformed by the renewing of your mind.' Yes, do that.

'Now go get me that (freaking) hospital check.' - Richard Gere.