I haven't actually read the article yet but if the answer isn't "The partially dismembered body of the world's first richest man" my disappointment will echo through this hotel like the howling of a lonesome train wolf.
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It's Pinkie-Zu, the only surviving Beanie Baby from ancient Mesopotamia. It just sits there, staring, in the musky pit of loneliness he thought he could fill with wine.
One of the great things about replies to Neil Gaiman is seeing how patient he is with the people that feel the need to be loudly angry at him about things he has nothing to do with, has not mentioned, and did not allude to.
It's Wine Spectator, so odds are it will be something along the lines of the world's rarest Amontillado racked against a suspiciously new looking wall.
I just reread Keepsakes and Treasures from a copy of 999 I grabbed for fall reading and the first thing that occurred to me is how there's no way the world's second richest man would allow himself to be pictured, much less his cellar's contents.
Whatever it is, based on that one documentary I watched, there's a good chance at least some of its counterfeit and what isn't is extremely overvalued. So, that's fun.
Is that the one where a person swapped the label of a cheap wine with a label from a vineyard of high repute, and the highfalutin wine connoisseurs thought the cheap wine was great?
My favourite bit was when they brought this supposedly excellent wine to another wine guy and after a single sip his first question was "how long has this been open...?" with a look of mild disgust on his face.
Or when another wine guy was REALLY adamant about defending the wine. His cellar was full of a lot of the con man's bottles so of course he was invested. Pun intended.
Sometimes new labels, sometimes they do wine mixing to supposedly fake the way a thing should taste. They get WILD. But yes, they all pretend it's perfect because if they didn't it would crash the collectors market.
Fingers crossed it isn't a very very pale, very very thin and extreme cross anthropomorphic personification because I vaguely recall reading a comic book where that ended badly for the home owner.
Given he largely owns LVMH, one imagines it’s whatever he wants to drink. But I hope that he also has an old, plastic Christmas tree, perhaps some unopened wedding gifts, his first Atari, and other memories. That is, of course, assuming that he remains, even remotely, human.
The "Other Change of Hobbit" bookstore in Berkeley in the late 70s was in a retail/parking building, with a bricked-up elevator shaft across the hall.
Somebody had of course graffiti'd
"For the love of G-d, Montresor!" on it.
You have two wolves inside of y-- ... I'm sorry, that's wrong. You have ONE wolf inside of you. The other is leaving on that midnight train to Georgia. Arrrooooo!
Are train wolves wolves that howl at trains (for that haunting echo), wolves that ride trains, or a subspecies of the dreaded Commuter Wolf, that chases down caribou across the frozen tundra by buying a season ticket?
In the Bahamas it's just like with Santa Claus. They come by train because there's not enough snow for sleighs to have been part of the culture that every child understands.
Notably, there aren't trains in the Bahamas either, but it provides the magical touch of a flying sleigh.
Oh great I was happy with the idea of a wolf associated with a long distance train through remote snowy American woods, but now you've put it on my commuting timeline... What is hiding in the brambles beside the track? 😆
I do hope that Steven Crowder's ex-wife considers this humane alternative to divorce. Seeing as he didn't think she should be "permitted" to divorce him.
'...the cellar holds many casks of fine wine...'
You look up from the page. Was the hotel room lighting always so dark? You struggle to read on by it.
'...the prize of the collection is Amontillado...'
A noise, like trowel on brick. Strange—you can no longer make out the door in the room's shadows.
Can a body be partially dismembered? Seems like it's one of those things where it's either together or it's not.
Kind of like assless chaps. All chaps are assless because if they had asses, they'd be trousers.
Maybe I need coffee.
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Coke, booze, women...maybe also young girls.
That's probably what every rich asshole has once they get multiple billions to their name.
and lots fucking good wine, he's French 😃
Oh, and have a lovely Birthday, Neil.
...include the train wolf, please.
That is all
The former world's fourth-richest man is number two with a bullet. An actual bullet, not a little rising-chart-thingy, though he's got that, too.
No.
Well then this will all be new to you.
Millions of them
Somebody had of course graffiti'd
"For the love of G-d, Montresor!" on it.
The answer is One Piece.
Probably fewer 80s-action-movie sex scenes, though.
https://youtu.be/x1SvF53yVUU?si=ouFaG1wqyfrmMLM3
Notably, there aren't trains in the Bahamas either, but it provides the magical touch of a flying sleigh.
werewolf
therewolf
Everywherewolf
when divorce didn’t exist.
Oh bugger… *goes to find masonry drill*
Either that or she needs to find a nice brick wall where he can spend eternity🫥
Unfortunately, these people are usually extremely disappointing.
- the world's second richest man's gardener.
cellars all the way down.
You look up from the page. Was the hotel room lighting always so dark? You struggle to read on by it.
'...the prize of the collection is Amontillado...'
A noise, like trowel on brick. Strange—you can no longer make out the door in the room's shadows.
Kind of like assless chaps. All chaps are assless because if they had asses, they'd be trousers.
Maybe I need coffee.