10^43 of them are Chinese ping-pong balls, and the rest are stars and planets and such.

But there's no mistaking a gunboat for Jupiter.

On a rare frivolous note, there's "non-sequential" and "non-sequential."

We should distinguish the conscious misordering of episodes with the purely random misordering of episodes.

He also had some obscenity cases pending, so it was in his interest to say that 'porno writing' was extinct.

Apparently sailors used to buy 'dirty books' and *read* them on long voyages. To New Zealand, I imagine.

Pynchon just calls it 'Paranoia' -- the need to see a controlling intelligence behind whatever happens.

I'm not sure how many of your video docos have been linked to the relevant bios. Could you drop the play lists for the bios that lack them into my place ? I'm not sure how to access the full play lists, only the individual episodes.

yrs

I don't remember now whether I had provided this link for You already. In case I didn't here it is again:

http://www.chessintranslation.com/2...

You're Canadian aren't you? Canadians are driving around in the day with their lights on tummy typing kinda people.

<Wayne> great story on that Indie> <Canadian chess film. Available on> <pre-order for only 15 bucks- I don't> <like to pre-order, but as soon as > <it's in stock I'm certainly snapping> <that up.>

Jeez ! lol

Just play thru the moves on a board in front of you..

The book is detective mystery called "The Freak Show Case" and is available on Amazon. Anyone interested can just search the authors names, Lezlie K. King or Brian D. Eyre. Or simply click here:

http://www.amazon.com/Freak-Show-Ca...

<And a Hard Rain Fell> Episode 5

It's lucky for me that I'm not a betting man. You see, I would have bet that a bottle of Canada Dry would have lasted longer than a pint of whiskey, even when used as a chaser.

There was another bottle of ginger ale in the refrigerator but that was about ten feet away and I don't know if I would have made it.

The dawn had awakened the city about two hours ago. I had spent the night in my office (again), thinking a little and drinking a lot. I do that. It's one of my hangups.

My cell phone began ringing. Her. I answered after the fourth ring.

"Hello."

"You left early."

"I did."

"You didn't wake me for a bye kiss."

"I didn't."

"Sometimes you don't talk much."

"I don't."

She waited silently for a few long seconds. "You haven't called."

"I've been meaning to." (No, I hadn't.)

"A gentleman would have called."

"You are right. I should have called. I should have called to say I had a nice evening."

She grew silent again. "I left the egg rolls." (How lame.)

"They were yummy."

Now I grew silent.

"Are you coming over again?"

"Do you want me to?"

"I do."

"Chinese again?"

"How about Greek? Or Italian?"

"Any particular place?"

She paused. "You decide."

Nice way to score some points, lady. "No, really. If you have a favorite...?"

"How about the Pleasant Greek?"

There were better Greek restaurants, but the Pleasant Greek would have to do. This time. My mother once said, "Unless you are dancing or going into danger, sometimes you have to let the woman lead." Or, as Bobby Fischer once said, "To get squares, you gotta give squares."

"I hope you like baklava. Tonight?"

She waited a long time before answering. I probably deserved that. "I'll be home by midnight." She hung up.

I stood up. A little light-headed, I stepped over to the fridge. Drank ginger ale straight from the bottle.

"Did you ever think maybe you would have won the Oscar if you hadn't been such a partier?"

This was directed at my client. You would know him. He almost won an Oscar. 'Best actor of his generation,' they said. But, he had a drug and drinking problem. Insurance costs had lost him some roles. A little jail time. And then some more. Rehab. Then some more. Too bad. Sober, he was a great guy. And, yeah, he was a great actor. Think Brando, Cooper, Bogart, Olivier. Thank God, he later straightened up. But that was after I left.

And, right now, he was puking his guts out in a Las Vegas gutter.

"I mean, really? Is this how it's supposed to go down for you? Is this what your image and career are all about?"

I don't know what he had been drinking, but his vomit was multi-colored, like a rainbow.

"This is great," he said before he retched again. "Advice from a frigging bodyguard of all people."

Although I later turned to private investigation, I always kept my hand in bodyguard work. It was easy money, if you don't mind the occasional cutting, or shooting, or having to bash someone's head in. It's easy work if you are good at it. And I am. Nowadays, I usually guard some Jewish diamond dealers. I frequently fly to New York to escort them, holding their hands, as it were, while they transfer diamonds and other valuables. I have a good team. A Korean named Ronnie Park and a black guy named Abraham Brooks. Usually a team of three is needed. Ronnie is usually a few yards up front, me behind the client, and Abraham bringing up the rear, about five yards behind. Why am I behind the client? Well, if they get by Ronnie, I will use the client as a shield while I shoot the attackers. If that sounds cold-hearted to you, then so be it. The three of us don't worry about it, or lose any sleep over it. And we have never lost a client.

"Yeah. Just a bodyguard. Low-life and all that, hmmm. But, at this time, in this little corner of the world, I gotta say, I would rather be a bodyguard than you."

He looked at me. His eyes could be cold as ice when he is like this. It's like staring into the eyes of a cobra.

I will say this in admiration. The client had nads the size of bowling balls. He climbed up onto the sidewalk and then he looked at me and smiled. Then he hurled all over my shoes. Hand-made. $500 a pair. He started to giggle. Then he began laughing. When he finally looked up at me, I was smiling. It was funny. I gotta give that to him. Then I kicked him in the ribs. Right onto his back in the gutter. His suit was ruined for sure as he landed in his own vomit.

I saw a half-empty bottle of water in the wastebasket beside the bench on the sidewalk. I used it and my silk handkerchief to rid my shoes and pants cuffs of his vomit, then tossed the empty and the silk into the rubbish can.

I sat down to wait until he awoke. I had knocked the breath out of him so he would not be up anytime soon. I smoked for a while, thinking about that farm I hoped to retire to one day.

I was brought out of my revelry when a Las Vegas cop car pulled up to the curb and stopped. I stood up, dropped the cigar and put it out with my shoe. Vegas cops are friendly, but they do want their respect. But I did regret losing the finish of that Monte Cristo.

He stepped out of his car and over to me. "What is this?" he said with a slight nod toward my client.

"This, sir, is my client. I am his bodyguard. He has decided to get drunk today. That is his car over there in the parking lot," I said as I pointed out his limo. "He has a charity event tonight, and I am about to take him back to the hotel, where I will sober him up so that he is presentable."

He looked at my client. "Is that..."

"He is." I took some tickets from my pocket, and added a couple of hundred dollar bills. "Perhaps you and some friends, or your wife, if you are married, would like to attend tonight?"

He pocketed the tickets and dropped the money on the ground. "Does he get like this often?" he asked.

"Lately, he does."

"My wife likes his movies. And what is your name?"

I showed him my card.

"I believe you know my brother Benjamin?"

I looked at his nameplate. "I do. He is a fine man."

"Don't be here when I drive through again. About twenty minutes." I like professional courtesy.

My client would never realize that he had been inches away from an arrest. Probably an ass-kicking too. Vegas cops don't play around.

He walked away and got back in his car and drove away.

About this time, my client began to awaken. "You're fired," he said.

"Again?"

He stood up. Looked like he wanted to swing at me, but decided against it. "How long before tonight's event?"

"We got plenty of time," I said, signaling the car to come over. "I hear that blond actress is your date tonight? What's her name? Tina Bopsalot?"

"Think I may get lucky?"

<jessicafisherqueen> Was surprise to learn this her autobiographical story/song ~

<hms123> Has kindly intervened and posted the game in question on your forum in PGN so it's easily playthruable. I've already thanked him for this on his own forum.