Now, at least, the numbers are back where they’re supposed to be, and should remain that way provided The Manatee doesn’t show up again. This week we get to meet Boaz, which is a feat in itself since Boaz is goddamn sick and tired of fame already; he’s actually a peacock, but this is the disguise he dons to try and avoid the papparazzi, which obviously didn’t work and simply started lots of distasteful rumors concerning his sex life and skin care. He came to fame in a very roundabout way, which means through England, and really only wanted to reach his fans through his music, requiring him to put little notes in his record jackets and drop them in various locations around town; the switch to MP3s really put a crimp in this. Boaz’s talent is unparalleled, or at least it might be if we could figure out what exactly this is supposed to mean; it doesn’t intersect with anything? Is that good in some way? We’re lost on this. It’s like saying something is unprecedented: it was previously unprecedented perhaps, but now that it’s occurred it’s a precedent itself, right? Anyway, Boaz just wants the media to leave him alone, but now that he’s admitted this publicly, everyone wants to know how it’s coming along. Plus his rants are really damn funny. He has a gambling addiction, and has bet very large sums of money on the claim that he’s immortal, having failed to think that one through but, if you’re gonna do it, at least this way involves the lowest losses and the greatest ire among his heirs, so win-win. His gym equipment is unparalleled. Boaz admits that is favorite air molecule is that one there. No, not that one; there. Look where I’m pointing, you moron…
Does the calendar still show a week next week? Then we will return.