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Thank you for sharing Cusper Lynn’s “Memeing of Life.”
Image By quinet.
The Lesser Vessel; or To Urn Trust
“You know me! You know my character!” Matt Tomlinson pleaded.
“Yes, I do. I assume you have a check for me,” I said, as I continued to tidy up what remained of my office.
“Cusper, I want you to look at me and tell me you aren’t thinking something crazy,” Matt demanded.
I looked over at him and said, “I’m not thinking of something crazy.” Read more »
Checking into the Local B&E; or Malthus & Marx at Play
Violated, outraged, vulnerable, angry, betrayed, anxious, apprehensive, and even vengeful are normal emotional reactions to being robbed. Given who I’ve been working for over the last few years, I have most of those feelings before I get dressed to go to the office. Read more »
Image by johnxfire
Leopold, the Unfriendly Ghost; or Abby Dearest
“I know you. I know who you are and I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking it can’t be done. You’re thinking it won’t work. I can’t do it. Or, worse yet, you’re thinking it worked once, but not anymore. You’re sitting there thinking tomorrow is not going to be any better than today and you’re thinking it’s only going to get worse.”
“The reason I know you is because I’ve BEEN you. I’ve thought ‘This won’t work’ and ‘I can’t do it’ and ‘This isn’t working anymore.’ I’ve had weeks when I knew it wouldn’t get any better. Jesus, Cusper! Is this really a long form sales pitch?!? It reads like a damn antidepressant advertisement!” Abby Norman, the formerly wealthy Mormon, complained. Read more »
Part of The Problem, or, Love In The Time of Lawyers
Standing in the parking lot of the big box store off of Route 41, I realized that it was official. I was now part of the problem. Commando in grey gym shorts, wearing sandals and an ill-fitting, nearly thread-bare 20-year-old souvenir T-shirt, I was about to join the denizens of the night. Read more »
Image by Genista
(Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage. Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)
Chapter 17: Evolution Revisited – Mrs. Audrey Towbridge
This morning a rabid possum was standing at my front door, circling listlessly and seemed to be breathing its last. Given my experience with Mr. Bunns, the Ubber rabbits and the death of Frank Towbridge, it might seem to you that I would on this occasion, let nature run its course. Under most circumstances that would be true. But you have not read my most recent mail. Mrs. Audrey Towbridge, unrestrained by a small dog to watch crap or a husband to kill, has given full vent to her spleen in a series of letters, memorandums and notices that have covered the entirety of our neighborhood. Read more »
It’s Valentine’s Day!
What is the four letter word that everyone wants to hear today?
Image by Cusper Lynn composed from photo element by
JAM Project of Will Coles’ piece “Guns R Us mk II” Sydney, Australia
Two Chimps & A Gun (or, Mad Abby’s Video Fun Time)
“You promised him WHAT!?!” Matt Tomlinson bellowed.
“You heard me,” I said calmly. “Fifty-fifty on all initial sales, and sixty-forty on secondary product sales on all conversions.”
“Jesus, Cusper! For half of his primary list!” Matt barked.
“No, all of his primary list and half of his second list,” I said.
There was a silence. “He let you into his second list?” Matt asked, clearly shocked by this information.
“Yes, he’s giving us all of his primary and half of the second client list,” I stated.
“Those people all have spent over 3k with him, minimum,” Matt said, awe coloring his voice.
“Yes,” I agreed.
In the motivational and personality marketing industry, there are always lists to be found, pools of customers who, through previous purchases, have shown themselves to be a receptive audience—not to say suckers—for new ideas. Read more »
A Very Cusper Christmas!
My friends have been concerned about me. The holiday season is upon us and I have expressed none of the joy that they expect. My usual exuberance and anticipation has been replaced by a resignation and a nearly mechanical plodding through the hours and days that measure the remaining distance in time to the holiday that falls upon December the 25th.
Historically speaking I am normally enthusiastic about this holiday. It’s when people of good will gather together and express their faith in an irrational optimism. There can be no greater good then the idea of a vague and unspecified beneficence to raise up one’s hope for humanity. For years and long after the holiday’s more clearly identifiable fictions were exposed to me by the well-meaning and the vindictive – I sought to be the good I would find in this holiday. I could spend months planning and preparing. In the weeks leading up it I would sing, skip and generally annoy the hell out of those who were unable to find the joy of existence contagious. But not this year.
Many explanations have been offered. Read more »
Image by: Cusper Lynn and original picture by chelzerman.
In The Gallery of The Screaming Man
Flush with cash, I had allowed myself an evening of debauchery that involved a visit to a junk yard for new hubcaps, an oil change, and the purchase of a beaded seat cover for my badly deteriorating driver’s seat.
Despite these heady and extravagant expenditures and the ensuing sense of elation and stupor that follows such outrageous activities, I found I could not sleep. The dawn’s first rays found me sitting in my dining room reviewing my night’s work.
My mission of transforming a drug and alcohol addled, washed up, broke, multiply sued and potentially criminal defendant motivational speaker was not going well. Read more »