[ten PM, and the low, deep sound of Leonard Cohen's voice comes drifting out of the radios and journals of Paradisa. life's back to normal, and even if he's a day late, your resident DJ is at it again.] Happy Tuesday, folks. This is Hard Harry coming at you, with a broadcast that's a little like puberty: better late than never.
Soooo, new kids.
Marika,
Erika,
London,
Daenerys,
Simca,
Clint,
Julie,
James and
Kenzi. Welcome to Wonderfuck. Looks like a couple of you were lucky enough to get a grade-A dose of crazy right off the bat, good for you. The rest of you? Hold on, you'll get your turn soon enough.
Normally I'd spend my night waxin' poetic about family and all that crap, but it looks like a bunch of you are already gettin' down to business about it. Good. You could all stand to use your heads once in a while and speak your minds. Some of you are not complete and total sheep, congratulations. Just send a self-addressed, stamped envelope via ghost, care of Hard Harry, and you'll get a great big sheet full of gold stars.
As for yours truly, I already count a pretty decent number of you as family, anyway, so there was no big revelation on my end, nothin' earth-shattering.
Except, maybe, y'know, the fact that the castle has a secret incest fetish. Just ... think about that one for a minute. A bunch of us were married, yeah? Well, we were also apparently all related. Hell, I was engaged to my second cousin if you connected the dots right.
Seriously. Give it a minute to sink in. And have fun with that.
[he'll leave you all with this little gem of a tune, and go back to chilling on the couch with Nora. sure, it's a bit of a wimpy broadcast, but his heart's not entirely in it after losing two close friends over the span of one weekend.]