I would like to visit his web site...anyone have a link?
I have to apologize for giving you such a short reply last night, but blame it on the Wisconsin-style temperatures we're having.
Pedro Picasso posted a link to his web-site, at that campfire on Skins's island.
When I copied-and-pasted it, the link didn't "take."
I thought about getting out the snowshoes, the dogsled, and harnessing up the cats to pull it, and slipping over to Skins's island to get it, but then thought, no. If someone wants to see his web-site, the link's available on Skins's island, but I myself am not interested.
The deal is, Pedro Picasso is ultra-paranoid, and I'm sure it's been an issue he's been given advice on during his most recent therapy and counseling, last December.
Pedro Picasso thinks the whole world is out to get him.
Pedro Picasso actually once alleged franksolich "stalks" him.
All franksolich has ever done is watch Pedro Picasso's campfires on Skins's island.
Nothing more than that.
Pedro Picasso thinks "other people," from George Bush down to General Electric down to franksolich, "know too much" about him, when in blunt fact, George Bush doesn't give any thought to Pedro Picasso even for half a second a month, General Electric doesn't even care he exists, and franksolich knows only what franksolich reads, written by Pedro Picasso.
franksolich knows less about Pedro Picasso than franksolich knows about the high school class of 1993 valedictorian in Wilmette, Oregon, or whoever happens to be standing on the brig of the Cunarder
R.M.S. Queen Mary II this morning, or with whom Vladimir Putin is having afternoon tea right now.
That however does not stop Pedro Picasso, in his extreme paranoia, from believing that "other people" "know too much" about him, spy on him, "stalk" him.
The guy is nuts, and any reading of Sigmund Freud would affirm that. Not nuts enough to have been institutionalized, like the phalloscraping primitive or the subway cat, not nuts enough to have gotten into trouble with law-enforcement, like the hot-tempered bird-smacking stoned red-faced primitive, or the malicious cartoon character primitive, but almost so.
You know, it was almost three years ago that Fat Che, the piano-playing sensitive lad, Little Rob from the Malloy board, the "investigator," and the Bostonian Drunkard threatened to come out to the Sandhills and wreak physical havoc upon the body of franksolich.
I didn't worry about that too much--although the neighbors surely did--because these guys wouldn't know the difference between the Sandhills of Nebraska and the jungles of former British East Africa anyway; they would've gotten lost a long long long time before they got here.
However, Pedro Picasso is of a higher intellectual level than these primitives; remember, Pedro Picasso isn't even a primitive himself, being more developed than the primitives. And so Pedro Picasso could track franksolich down, in his rabid paranoid hysteria thinking franksolich "stalks" him.
I fully expect sometime this coming summer, to be lazily looking out the large windows showing the river to the south of here, and seeing some tall blond-haired blue-eyed guy circa 50 years old, the cuticles of his fingernails a little oddly-curved, a prancing gait to his step, a "little brother" chip on his shoulder, and reeking of that body-odor peculiar to males of European derivation who eat overmuch Oriental food, emerging from the river and the trees, a long-handled axe in his hand, headed my direction.
Alas for Pedro Picasso, he would have to deal with the cats here first.
The guy is nuts.
