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    The Black Rider

    authentic since 1981 'welcome to my bomboclot mind'

    Saturday, March 3, 2007


    A nondescript room somewhere in New York, a lone and dusty 60 watt light bulb shines. The Inquisitor walks around the room in a menacing pace perplexed and vexed at the insolence and bravado of his subject. The Black Rider.

    The Black Rider sits in a wood chair at a long steel desk looking up at the menacing man known only as The Inquisitor and wonders what question he will ask him. The Inquisitor is dapperly dressed in a white shirt, business tie and khaki pants with brown loafers and dress socks. The Black Rider wears his everyday costume, black pinstriped pants, black Italian cut blazer, white collared shirt, long black camel skin coat topped off with a black pin-striped hat, shiny black patent leather shoes and black silk socks. The Inquisitor walks around the room circling the light bulb looking at The Black Rider angrily staring, growling his mouth as he prepares his first question. The Black Rider sits at the long steel desk nonchalantly waiting for this all to be over.

    "Show me your books" The Inquisitor demands. "Show me them now".

    "What book?" replies The Black Rider. "You know what I'm talking about" replies The Inquisitor, "The letters you have the entire world going ga ga over. The condemned and illegal prose you have been dealing to the doe eyed masses."

    The Black Rider smiles to himself. "You presume too much."

    "For days" The Inquisitor goes on "You have had this entire city, the State of New York and people from all over the world reading this filth you call literature. I'm going to put a stop to it Mister Rider. I'm going to put a stop to all of this nonsense, and I'm going to put a stop to you. Until you give me some answers, I'm not letting you out of this room. You won't be able to spew your vile in here my friend. I'm going to find the author of these perverse quote on quote artworks, and if you are indeed the culprit, there will no publishing from these four walls."

    "On what charge am I imprisoned for?" The Black Rider asked, "You can't just lock me up for days on end with no charge. Is this the Patriot Act at work? Am I a terrorist or something, last time I checked, New York was still an American State. This Is America is it not?"

    "Oh no" replied The Inquisitor in a slow and taunting tone. "This is not America anymore. This is not the liberal filth land known as New York. BLOGVILLE!"

    About Me

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    If you know me then you know my name. I am The Black Rider and the world is my Flame. The rider writes, observes, creates, produces, and learns the world around him. Ride on. Ride on!

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