Me, in the Third Person, Talking About Kicking Existential Ass & sundry …
Okay … yes … HOLD ON!
Jonathan has every intention of continuing his comic panels, etc. but he has recently stumbled, like a particularly clumsy pachyderm, upon a book deal that demands all of his fabled and unwavering attention. This opportunity will brook no refusal and the finished product will, in fact, not only be a product, but will represent a synthesis of just about all the nonsense and absurdity he has been attempting to communicate for some time.
And you’ll like it. You’ll want to eat it up with a spoon.
Not that Jonathan hasn’t been working diligently — two rather huge and astounding novels have been completed in the last two years, and the man and his elves will be seeking homes for these literary extravaganzas. Even so, there will actually be a non-fiction book release this year, tied-in with some foolery on You Tube and perhaps a few other groundbreaking feats of derring do. Squirm hard on those pins and needles. Let them really dig into the flesh.
Bear with Jonathan. He is doing only what the Muses tell him to do, when they tell him to do it. He is fighting the battle. ‘Valiant’ and ‘astonishing’ and ‘impudent’ and ‘devious’ are watchwords you may wish to associate with Jonathan in order to get a head-start on those seething dilettantes who will surely employ those terms liberally in his regard later on. We extend to you the favor of this alert, as it were.
If you don’t already know who Jonathan is, you’ll probably know by the end of the year. Or perhaps midway into 2016, at the latest. He won’t likely become as “famous” as, say, a Kardashian, but he might just acquire enough notoriety and money to buy several “canisters of CN-20 and roll them in there and nerve-gas the whole nest.”
Wouldn’t that be wonderful?
Anyhow, come and visit Jonathan, if you can. Bring him some cookies. He is in the last room at the end of the hall. Just look for the hairy dude with the thorazine drip and a Lavender “Lemon Frisk” votive-candle burning in front of an icon of Camille Paglia.
Seriously, he’s in fine fettle and ready to kick some existential ass.