Saturday, June 12, 2004
"Emeal Jacobson invents e-mail, returns home to check it" - Canora Gazette
There once was a man.
A man who not only proudly served his country, but also served with a vengeance. This man not only chose to risk his life, but also chose to risk his manhood, when, prior to the end of the Korean War, he returned home to his loving wife, where he undertook the grandiose task of fathering 15 children.
In fact, that man still lives today.
And the name he goes by has been written in stone. Over the ages the tides have ran many a time over the stone, but his name still glistens as brightly as the day it was enscribed. The name this man goes by is Emeal.
Emeal Jacobson.
Firstly, I am here to pen his succeses... Although the few (all social elites) who know Emeal "Email" Jacobson on a first name basis would most likely describe him as undescribable, the physical features may be the appropriate place to start. Emeal has often been referred to as an adonis. Not only because women around the world have fallen under his spell, but also because it is not uncommon for a man to express his love. In fact, to this day, Mr. Jacobson has been made the object of affection of 36 women, 16 men, and 2 plantains. Also to date, he has left 0 woman at the alter, with the exception of two men, whom he met in Las Vegas, and could easily be mistaken as ladies. All of which can be expected after serving a tour-of-duty overseas.
Speaking of his tour-of-duty, it was in the Korean War, while proudly serving for his majesty the Queen of Ourland where the man himself was enraged by a terrible struggle between Commis and forces of gravity. Sheer willpower came into play as a large cement building cracked apart his right femur.
It began as a normal war-time day. The allied nations had intercepted and decoded Communist orders, all of which involved wearing lubed red thongs to battle today. Emeal had woken up in a bunk surrounded by other naked men, and callously removed a dildo from his anal passage. Grumbling about the lack of latrine, he threw on his boots, strapped on his helmet, and a strung a picture of Nei' Borly around his neck. He was once again prepared to subject Commis to Capitalist lead.
Later that day, while laying on the ground firing his m16 at the advancing Commis, a fighter bomber overhead screamed by, dropping an air to ground missile on the factory he was up against. The walls crumbled under the force of the blow and one just happened to topple onto our hero. His right leg was split apart by a shard of cement, and his body nearly covered in the thick of it all. The scene was grotesque, and amidst the blood, sweat, and tears (or lack, thereof), Emeal somehow managed to suppress the bleeding with the butt of his rifle while using his bayonet to pivot the fallen cement off of his wound. Upon releasing the pressure, the shattered wound blew open and instead of meerly passing out then and there at the sight of more than 5 litres of blood, Emeal managed to remain in control of his mind, his body, and his soul. He spat onto his hands, reached deep into his open leg, right below the knee, and shifted his broken femur back into place. With this extra force on his leg, even more blood shot up around him. He was now, literally, laying in a pool of the warm, steaming, red liquid. Now somewhat exhausted due to extreme blood loss and the physical might needed to shift the largest bone in his body, Emeal revived himself by taking a hit of scotch from his breast-pocket flask. Needless to say, it took little strength for our hero to move away the 500 pounds of cement laying on top of him, and despite having broken a leg, all his ribs, seven fingers and a shoulder, he was jitter-bugging in the mess hall that night.
Equally daunting is the story of Emeal's creation of what today is known simply as "E-mail". Emeal returned from Korea to find much of his life gone. Old dreams had been shattered with the creation of the computer, as it was of course his idea to attach a microprocessor to a central circuit board to create a machine smarter than himself. Unfortunately for Emeal, he called in to patent the idea way back in '68, and was told the papers would be shipped to his door. Next month, the same company who had offered the patent began selling the idea of a "computer" to major multi-million dollar technology research companies. In order to spite the patenters that has rudely ripped him off, Emeal went to work on a Mac Classic creating lines of code that would eventually lead to the creation of a small account from which the very first prank over the internet was sent. Upon the creation of plain text Email, Emeal wrote this clever joke to Bill Gates, owner of his idea. I believe it went something like this, "Dear Sir, you have stolen my idea, but soon 'email' will provide everyone with as much porn, stock quotes, and ridiculously low insurance rates as they could ever handle. You could never incite such a diverse audience to your porn-affair".
All in all, Emeal "Email" Jacobson can still be found today. If you look long and hard, you may just notice him walking by Mama's and the flower shop oh Stony Plain. I have no doubt that you'll recognize him instantly, for his limp is gracious, and his cane-sword on hand make him an eyesor for the eyes. Be sure to tip your hat, as Emeal's eyesight and hearing have gone far from decent over the years, but he is known to enjoy the customary greeting offered by the hat of a passerby.
A man who not only proudly served his country, but also served with a vengeance. This man not only chose to risk his life, but also chose to risk his manhood, when, prior to the end of the Korean War, he returned home to his loving wife, where he undertook the grandiose task of fathering 15 children.
In fact, that man still lives today.
And the name he goes by has been written in stone. Over the ages the tides have ran many a time over the stone, but his name still glistens as brightly as the day it was enscribed. The name this man goes by is Emeal.
Emeal Jacobson.
Firstly, I am here to pen his succeses... Although the few (all social elites) who know Emeal "Email" Jacobson on a first name basis would most likely describe him as undescribable, the physical features may be the appropriate place to start. Emeal has often been referred to as an adonis. Not only because women around the world have fallen under his spell, but also because it is not uncommon for a man to express his love. In fact, to this day, Mr. Jacobson has been made the object of affection of 36 women, 16 men, and 2 plantains. Also to date, he has left 0 woman at the alter, with the exception of two men, whom he met in Las Vegas, and could easily be mistaken as ladies. All of which can be expected after serving a tour-of-duty overseas.
Speaking of his tour-of-duty, it was in the Korean War, while proudly serving for his majesty the Queen of Ourland where the man himself was enraged by a terrible struggle between Commis and forces of gravity. Sheer willpower came into play as a large cement building cracked apart his right femur.
It began as a normal war-time day. The allied nations had intercepted and decoded Communist orders, all of which involved wearing lubed red thongs to battle today. Emeal had woken up in a bunk surrounded by other naked men, and callously removed a dildo from his anal passage. Grumbling about the lack of latrine, he threw on his boots, strapped on his helmet, and a strung a picture of Nei' Borly around his neck. He was once again prepared to subject Commis to Capitalist lead.
Later that day, while laying on the ground firing his m16 at the advancing Commis, a fighter bomber overhead screamed by, dropping an air to ground missile on the factory he was up against. The walls crumbled under the force of the blow and one just happened to topple onto our hero. His right leg was split apart by a shard of cement, and his body nearly covered in the thick of it all. The scene was grotesque, and amidst the blood, sweat, and tears (or lack, thereof), Emeal somehow managed to suppress the bleeding with the butt of his rifle while using his bayonet to pivot the fallen cement off of his wound. Upon releasing the pressure, the shattered wound blew open and instead of meerly passing out then and there at the sight of more than 5 litres of blood, Emeal managed to remain in control of his mind, his body, and his soul. He spat onto his hands, reached deep into his open leg, right below the knee, and shifted his broken femur back into place. With this extra force on his leg, even more blood shot up around him. He was now, literally, laying in a pool of the warm, steaming, red liquid. Now somewhat exhausted due to extreme blood loss and the physical might needed to shift the largest bone in his body, Emeal revived himself by taking a hit of scotch from his breast-pocket flask. Needless to say, it took little strength for our hero to move away the 500 pounds of cement laying on top of him, and despite having broken a leg, all his ribs, seven fingers and a shoulder, he was jitter-bugging in the mess hall that night.
Equally daunting is the story of Emeal's creation of what today is known simply as "E-mail". Emeal returned from Korea to find much of his life gone. Old dreams had been shattered with the creation of the computer, as it was of course his idea to attach a microprocessor to a central circuit board to create a machine smarter than himself. Unfortunately for Emeal, he called in to patent the idea way back in '68, and was told the papers would be shipped to his door. Next month, the same company who had offered the patent began selling the idea of a "computer" to major multi-million dollar technology research companies. In order to spite the patenters that has rudely ripped him off, Emeal went to work on a Mac Classic creating lines of code that would eventually lead to the creation of a small account from which the very first prank over the internet was sent. Upon the creation of plain text Email, Emeal wrote this clever joke to Bill Gates, owner of his idea. I believe it went something like this, "Dear Sir, you have stolen my idea, but soon 'email' will provide everyone with as much porn, stock quotes, and ridiculously low insurance rates as they could ever handle. You could never incite such a diverse audience to your porn-affair".
All in all, Emeal "Email" Jacobson can still be found today. If you look long and hard, you may just notice him walking by Mama's and the flower shop oh Stony Plain. I have no doubt that you'll recognize him instantly, for his limp is gracious, and his cane-sword on hand make him an eyesor for the eyes. Be sure to tip your hat, as Emeal's eyesight and hearing have gone far from decent over the years, but he is known to enjoy the customary greeting offered by the hat of a passerby.
Thursday, June 10, 2004
Genius Unparraled
This is a News Blog, which really means I just add things that may amuse some people, but hopefully just offend everyone.
(Oh for those of you who are new here, the * means random change of topic. Bear with me).
Thanks for stopping by!
*Some garbage that happens online during the course of my day. And by garbage I mean once in a LIFETIME event!
INSTANT REPLAY says:
be that way Matthew ___ CARTER
INSTANT REPLAY says:
whats your middle name?
it's the true enliven with a youthful vengeance says:
christopher david
INSTANT REPLAY says:
no way.
INSTANT REPLAY says:
thats MY middle name
INSTANT REPLAY says:
lol
On the same subject,
it's the true enliven with a youthful vengeance says:
lol quite the debate
INSTANT REPLAY says:
?
INSTANT REPLAY says:
quite*?
INSTANT REPLAY says:
who cant spell now!?!?!?
INSTANT REPLAY says:
ooo DISS.
it's the true enliven with a youthful vengeance says:
uhh wat?
it's the true enliven with a youthful vengeance says:
it's the true enliven with a youthful vengeance says:
lol quite the debate
INSTANT REPLAY says:
OOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo
INSTANT REPLAY says:
hahahahahahahhahahahaha
INSTANT REPLAY says:
im sooo dumb matthew
*Overwhelming support just keeps pouring in for Dog on Mars.
The tabloids are ecstatic! Just look at these headlines!
"Dog reaches lonely planet; Japanese web developers jovial"
"'The earth must!' - Teens celebrate 2 months of DOM"
Support also finds it's way through a chat.
Sammy.....stupid can, why do u have to be so sharp? says:
shit this game sux soooo bad u have to like jump over these holes, u guys get amused soooo easily
(Sam, in response to the recent overwhelming support for DOM).
Sammy.....stupid can, why do u have to be so sharp? says:
lol im not actually going to bed, it was just a thought
j'emmènes la caisse de bière, emmener la mescaline says:
hahahah thot so!
j'emmènes la caisse de bière, emmener la mescaline says:
DOM is too good for ya huh
j'emmènes la caisse de bière, emmener la mescaline says:
going back for more?
j'emmènes la caisse de bière, emmener la mescaline says:
that poor dog just wants to return to his spatial ship
j'emmènes la caisse de bière, emmener la mescaline says:
he must!
Sammy.....stupid can, why do u have to be so sharp? says:
never will i ever go back for more, i think i had a seizure just playing it that first time
And the hits just keep rolling in. By the way, the Dog on Mars unofficial theme is now available, kudos to Jesse "Christ Punchin'" Hicks for supplying us with the video. Interested? Give me/him/the CPs a holler online.
*Here's where I thought I'd let you lucky readers in on a little glimpse of the future of rap. Aidan "pissed-in-paint-jar-at-school" J.-H. who, for some reason decided to pee in a paint jar at school is hoping to land a major label record contract with this beat-ya-down-ha'd linear lina' : "We be in tha' hood, listenin' to that woord, holla, holla... good". ('Word' is pronounced 'Wood' in order to accomodate the rhyme scheme). What can I say? It's gold my friend, gold.
*it's the true enliven with a youthful vengeance says:
dyou know wat i was thinking about?
-Everytime I try to fly-I fall without my wings- says:
what?
it's the true enliven with a youthful vengeance says:
when i was younger, ppl were always like "a dog's mouth is clearner than a human's
-Everytime I try to fly-I fall without my wings-says:
dogs eat shit though
-Everytime I try to fly-I fall without my wings- :
humans usually dont
OooooOH. Well. No Comment. (Jeff, I'm looking in you're direction).
*Finally, the politics quote of the day comes straight off the verbatim, from around 60 (give or take) years ago.
(Not quite sure who Ebenezer Elliott is, but he seems to be quite the neutral Brit).
-What is a Communist? One who hath yearnings for equal division of unequal earnings. Idler or bungler, or both, he is willing To fork out his copper and pocket a shilling.
Ebenezer Elliott
And to all a Goodnight.
(Oh for those of you who are new here, the * means random change of topic. Bear with me).
Thanks for stopping by!
*Some garbage that happens online during the course of my day. And by garbage I mean once in a LIFETIME event!
INSTANT REPLAY says:
be that way Matthew ___ CARTER
INSTANT REPLAY says:
whats your middle name?
it's the true enliven with a youthful vengeance says:
christopher david
INSTANT REPLAY says:
no way.
INSTANT REPLAY says:
thats MY middle name
INSTANT REPLAY says:
lol
On the same subject,
it's the true enliven with a youthful vengeance says:
lol quite the debate
INSTANT REPLAY says:
?
INSTANT REPLAY says:
quite*?
INSTANT REPLAY says:
who cant spell now!?!?!?
INSTANT REPLAY says:
ooo DISS.
it's the true enliven with a youthful vengeance says:
uhh wat?
it's the true enliven with a youthful vengeance says:
it's the true enliven with a youthful vengeance says:
lol quite the debate
INSTANT REPLAY says:
OOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo
INSTANT REPLAY says:
hahahahahahahhahahahaha
INSTANT REPLAY says:
im sooo dumb matthew
*Overwhelming support just keeps pouring in for Dog on Mars.
The tabloids are ecstatic! Just look at these headlines!
"Dog reaches lonely planet; Japanese web developers jovial"
"'The earth must!' - Teens celebrate 2 months of DOM"
Support also finds it's way through a chat.
Sammy.....stupid can, why do u have to be so sharp? says:
shit this game sux soooo bad u have to like jump over these holes, u guys get amused soooo easily
(Sam, in response to the recent overwhelming support for DOM).
Sammy.....stupid can, why do u have to be so sharp? says:
lol im not actually going to bed, it was just a thought
j'emmènes la caisse de bière, emmener la mescaline says:
hahahah thot so!
j'emmènes la caisse de bière, emmener la mescaline says:
DOM is too good for ya huh
j'emmènes la caisse de bière, emmener la mescaline says:
going back for more?
j'emmènes la caisse de bière, emmener la mescaline says:
that poor dog just wants to return to his spatial ship
j'emmènes la caisse de bière, emmener la mescaline says:
he must!
Sammy.....stupid can, why do u have to be so sharp? says:
never will i ever go back for more, i think i had a seizure just playing it that first time
And the hits just keep rolling in. By the way, the Dog on Mars unofficial theme is now available, kudos to Jesse "Christ Punchin'" Hicks for supplying us with the video. Interested? Give me/him/the CPs a holler online.
*Here's where I thought I'd let you lucky readers in on a little glimpse of the future of rap. Aidan "pissed-in-paint-jar-at-school" J.-H. who, for some reason decided to pee in a paint jar at school is hoping to land a major label record contract with this beat-ya-down-ha'd linear lina' : "We be in tha' hood, listenin' to that woord, holla, holla... good". ('Word' is pronounced 'Wood' in order to accomodate the rhyme scheme). What can I say? It's gold my friend, gold.
*it's the true enliven with a youthful vengeance says:
dyou know wat i was thinking about?
-Everytime I try to fly-I fall without my wings- says:
what?
it's the true enliven with a youthful vengeance says:
when i was younger, ppl were always like "a dog's mouth is clearner than a human's
-Everytime I try to fly-I fall without my wings-says:
dogs eat shit though
-Everytime I try to fly-I fall without my wings- :
humans usually dont
OooooOH. Well. No Comment. (Jeff, I'm looking in you're direction).
*Finally, the politics quote of the day comes straight off the verbatim, from around 60 (give or take) years ago.
(Not quite sure who Ebenezer Elliott is, but he seems to be quite the neutral Brit).
-What is a Communist? One who hath yearnings for equal division of unequal earnings. Idler or bungler, or both, he is willing To fork out his copper and pocket a shilling.
Ebenezer Elliott
And to all a Goodnight.
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
Did I hear Dymaxion?
This is a new feature that will soon be appearing regularly and by regularly I really mean whenever I happen to note the absurb and bizzare that is Van De Vyvere.
As it is clearly stated in the "matt-hatter quota" of politics of the business, I am required to take at least one unbiased, unopinionated, unprejudiced, completely netural look at an everyday happening once every few days. Exactly. (Other sections of the contract state that for every hundred posts I write, o'carreigh's quota is equal to one).
The reason behind the sudden surge of piesexual comments on our usually clean comments board is due to one man, one spirit... one essence... one hero who can only be defined as a blundering oaf, often identified by his voice: one riddled with sarcasm, recognized through humor, and accentuated by the curses that fill the voids of the nouns. Alas, this man is no Emeal "E-mail" Jacobson or Nei' "Absolutely Uncompromisable" Borly, but yet he does have, at his disposal, ready for immediate use, a number of handy gadgets any 6th grade nerd could ask for.
If I'm not mistaken, (which clearly I'm not, because believe me, Emeal wouldn't knight me if I were), this one magician of the ages owns a certain small box (possibly not a box - the complete secrecy of his life shrouds our answers) which, when activated will deafen his assailant for six seconds. And I quote, "(...) deafen 'em for six seconds, non-lethal". A rash decision? Certainly not, the man himself felt threatened by his surroundings, and as a soldier of fortune must remain private and protected in all ways of lie. Oops, I mean "life". (see: Soldier of Fortune contract, season 2004-2005. Available wherever firearms are sold. And manufactured. And distributed illegaly. And sold to kids).
Let's not forget that this modern day Clouseau also keeps pocketed away his very own set of rear view mirrors. Just the tool for when sticky situations consume him in a pulpy orange mess of skin and the likes. What I'm talking about is, of course, none other than his sunglasses, useful for all covert operations, fully equipped with turn signals and rear view mirrors. One who doubts the need for a set of blinkers and a pair of small mirrors fixed on the cornea of your eye clearly misunderstands just what sort of trouble this agent encounters. Who knows when a tiger is ready in waiting to pounce on our man when he least expects it. Furthermore, bear in mind that what creeps out of the average school locker before beheading or castrating the victim is most certainly something worth fending off. With the blink of an eye (literally), a lesser person would not even know what hit them, but our man Van De Vyvere is equipped for all situations, regardless of time, space, or space and time, or continuums.
Another interesting, if I may, 'necessity' to our man's character is his model rocket. Often referred to as his pock-rocket, due to the fact that it relies mainly on the need of a pocket to successfully lift-off, this handy portable deployment unit has more than one use. Sure, you could say that every young astronaut (or cosmonaut as long as we're respecting the town charter) loves to watch the small chemical reaction light up the sky, yet our man Van De Vyvere has once again outsmarted the competition. Basing my findings on a scientific level, it is now obvious that yet again, our top-notch spy has risen above his peers and has been using the pock-rocket, (with "mods" of course) to relay messages between his self and a younger, less civilized, less devoted, (yet amazingly adept at picking up on all the right tactics) version of himself. (Someone I like to refer to as Jason version 2.0).
Finally, every modern day detective must own the wheels to get the job done and still make it to Esso in time to run her through the wash. Unfortunately for our man Van De Vyvere, the very "set of wheels" he owns would never be able to sustain the damage of the rough brissels used in an everyday American car-wash. What I'm saying, of course, is that this genius has spent years developing a car that needs no washing, because the self-cleaning mechanism is beyond well-tuned. What car, you ask, could accomplish so much and ask for so little in return? Why, The Dymaxion 3000 has the answer. This handcrafted oeuvre d'art has been assembled with the greatest of precision by the finest hands in the business. The business of handcrafting hydrogen propulsed cars. Since there is simply no way of reproducing all the information concerning this road-king on paper, ours truly has been kind enough to provide us with the link to some further information on his ride. Found here is the very basic outline of what she looks like and of what specifications went into her. Let's accredit R. Buckminster Fuller with having developed the idea of the dymaxion house. A word which he formed by combining dy-maxun - the element he invented - and ion - greek for house - . Alas, let us, as civilized human beings, not forget that our man Van De Vyvere himself has the rights to the dymaxion (three-wheeled!) car stashed in his underwear drawer. Yes, although never before released on the Internet, his site was made public today at this address. Unfortunately for most of you, by the time you have clicked the link, ours truly will have already taken the site down, with the hopes of preserving the uniqueness of his car. Any normal man would fear the average citizen would print off the plans and build one of his own, only to parade it around the neighborhood, while catwalking on the two rear wheels, impressing every last one of us, and finalising the deal by passing it off as his own.
Fear not good sir, for we at politics of the business salute you!
As it is clearly stated in the "matt-hatter quota" of politics of the business, I am required to take at least one unbiased, unopinionated, unprejudiced, completely netural look at an everyday happening once every few days. Exactly. (Other sections of the contract state that for every hundred posts I write, o'carreigh's quota is equal to one).
The reason behind the sudden surge of piesexual comments on our usually clean comments board is due to one man, one spirit... one essence... one hero who can only be defined as a blundering oaf, often identified by his voice: one riddled with sarcasm, recognized through humor, and accentuated by the curses that fill the voids of the nouns. Alas, this man is no Emeal "E-mail" Jacobson or Nei' "Absolutely Uncompromisable" Borly, but yet he does have, at his disposal, ready for immediate use, a number of handy gadgets any 6th grade nerd could ask for.
If I'm not mistaken, (which clearly I'm not, because believe me, Emeal wouldn't knight me if I were), this one magician of the ages owns a certain small box (possibly not a box - the complete secrecy of his life shrouds our answers) which, when activated will deafen his assailant for six seconds. And I quote, "(...) deafen 'em for six seconds, non-lethal". A rash decision? Certainly not, the man himself felt threatened by his surroundings, and as a soldier of fortune must remain private and protected in all ways of lie. Oops, I mean "life". (see: Soldier of Fortune contract, season 2004-2005. Available wherever firearms are sold. And manufactured. And distributed illegaly. And sold to kids).
Let's not forget that this modern day Clouseau also keeps pocketed away his very own set of rear view mirrors. Just the tool for when sticky situations consume him in a pulpy orange mess of skin and the likes. What I'm talking about is, of course, none other than his sunglasses, useful for all covert operations, fully equipped with turn signals and rear view mirrors. One who doubts the need for a set of blinkers and a pair of small mirrors fixed on the cornea of your eye clearly misunderstands just what sort of trouble this agent encounters. Who knows when a tiger is ready in waiting to pounce on our man when he least expects it. Furthermore, bear in mind that what creeps out of the average school locker before beheading or castrating the victim is most certainly something worth fending off. With the blink of an eye (literally), a lesser person would not even know what hit them, but our man Van De Vyvere is equipped for all situations, regardless of time, space, or space and time, or continuums.
Another interesting, if I may, 'necessity' to our man's character is his model rocket. Often referred to as his pock-rocket, due to the fact that it relies mainly on the need of a pocket to successfully lift-off, this handy portable deployment unit has more than one use. Sure, you could say that every young astronaut (or cosmonaut as long as we're respecting the town charter) loves to watch the small chemical reaction light up the sky, yet our man Van De Vyvere has once again outsmarted the competition. Basing my findings on a scientific level, it is now obvious that yet again, our top-notch spy has risen above his peers and has been using the pock-rocket, (with "mods" of course) to relay messages between his self and a younger, less civilized, less devoted, (yet amazingly adept at picking up on all the right tactics) version of himself. (Someone I like to refer to as Jason version 2.0).
Finally, every modern day detective must own the wheels to get the job done and still make it to Esso in time to run her through the wash. Unfortunately for our man Van De Vyvere, the very "set of wheels" he owns would never be able to sustain the damage of the rough brissels used in an everyday American car-wash. What I'm saying, of course, is that this genius has spent years developing a car that needs no washing, because the self-cleaning mechanism is beyond well-tuned. What car, you ask, could accomplish so much and ask for so little in return? Why, The Dymaxion 3000 has the answer. This handcrafted oeuvre d'art has been assembled with the greatest of precision by the finest hands in the business. The business of handcrafting hydrogen propulsed cars. Since there is simply no way of reproducing all the information concerning this road-king on paper, ours truly has been kind enough to provide us with the link to some further information on his ride. Found here is the very basic outline of what she looks like and of what specifications went into her. Let's accredit R. Buckminster Fuller with having developed the idea of the dymaxion house. A word which he formed by combining dy-maxun - the element he invented - and ion - greek for house - . Alas, let us, as civilized human beings, not forget that our man Van De Vyvere himself has the rights to the dymaxion (three-wheeled!) car stashed in his underwear drawer. Yes, although never before released on the Internet, his site was made public today at this address. Unfortunately for most of you, by the time you have clicked the link, ours truly will have already taken the site down, with the hopes of preserving the uniqueness of his car. Any normal man would fear the average citizen would print off the plans and build one of his own, only to parade it around the neighborhood, while catwalking on the two rear wheels, impressing every last one of us, and finalising the deal by passing it off as his own.
Fear not good sir, for we at politics of the business salute you!
