This is both a fantasy and a plan. Mr. Big lays out some tactics for getting rich, like working 16 hours a day, 7 days a week and, when able, taking money and keeping money. He's got a location picked out for the palace, imagined some famous neighbors, considered a harem with belly-dancers for dinnertime, and noted the expected thickness of the the walls and doors. Smoking joints will be allowed in Mr. Big's $40,000,000.00 Palace 1, but no inhaling!
Mr. Big ran in some ritzy neighborhoods, and I'd like to believe whenever he was camped out on some corner, flanked by luscious lawns and gorgeous palms, brushed up against the haute and heavy hitters, pissing on a mailbox... I believe he had these signs draped over the side of that blue box.
BS HUSBAND WANTED
BS WIFE WANTED
(Dumb or smart does not matter either.)
My previous position at the lib had me sitting behind a counter inside a small room nestled in the very heart of the building. This room also housed the printing and copying system for the public computers (located just outside the room), and if I was ever busy it was helping people get their documents in hard copy. But most of the time I waited, ready. Bored.
This situation, being rather secluded but also open to The Public, was apparently very attractive to a particular sort of social animal and so there were several colorful characters who reported to my counter on a regular basis and proceeded to regale me with their brand of crazy. Ronald 'Captain Pooty' Vaughn will always be my favorite. Lior is very sweet, and the one-time visit from The Suicide Poet will haunt me forever. There's stuff to share from some of these folks, but they're for another time.
It's imperative I begin with Mr. Big. He's not a regular per se—more like an occasional. I think he travels between several cities over the western half of the US, or at least the greater metropolitan area around here. But when he's around he stops in to compose and print out the latest version of whatever document he's selected from a truly enormous library of crazy. He's always very eager to hand out copies of his documents, and keeps a file-folder stocked with several different screeds. But the entire ala he keeps on a little precious flash drive hung around his neck.
I figured since he's so interested in getting the word out, he might let me copy the files to my own drive. So the last time he was in I asked to have a bit of a look at all he had, and he let me flash everything over to my own little clip drive. Took it home, sanitized the whole thing (digitally, that is, there's been no change to the writing and as little change as possible to the format) and now I'm finally getting around to doing my part to help Mr. Big get the word (files) out.
So, okay! Hello Mr. Big!
Here is SUB WORLD FAMOUS NUMBERS (good).doc. (Make sure to hit the [+] button a couple times to zoom in so it's legible.)
Mr. Big is obsessed with the significance of numbers (though when pressed to explain the significances he can get agitated and incoherent). Whenever he notices a numeric significance relating to celebrities, news items, politics, or anything really, he notes it down in the appropriate document within the NUMBERS folder. This particular document, however, is located in the top level of the Mr. Big home folder. I believe it serves either as a handy staging area for items yet to be filed appropriately within NUMBERS or as a 'greatest hits' condensation of the whole NUMBERS folder system, or both.
This document is a fine example of the complex shorthand of oblique references Mr. Big maintains to help organize his documents. Though you'll quickly recognize many of them, we may not ever understand what exactly they mean. I've spent some time reading this one-sheet, and still can't even comprehend what most of the parenthetical or aside references mean. He did explain the Judge Judy (or just Judy) reference once, brokenly and in staccato, as denoting encounters with people who would likely be on the receiving end of a scathing rant from The Honorable, and then are also sometimes followed by what Mr. Big imagines she'd say.
It's easy to be discouraged by the compacted illegibility of a wall of random-seeming text like this, but I believe there's a coherent (if mis-guided and not altogether sane) message to it. Interpretations are welcome.
There's a lot more where this came from, and plenty of gems to share in the future. Keep an eye out.
The October 2004 issue of Gourmet featured a selection of letters from the 'record-breaking' response to David Foster Wallace's essay (published Aug. 2004) on the Maine Lobster Festival, Consider the Lobster. In an attempt to aid in the education of MeFite apricot's frosh comp class, I scanned in the two pages of letters at a nice, big resolution. They're a pretty fun read, as is the essay of course.
[click for larger]
