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My brother and sister skeptics,
Greetings! I apologize for the unavoidably long delay in updating you on the travails and tribulations besetting your humble skeptic, but with the millennial realignments of the Earth's chakras, I've been as busy as the arms of a Hindu god keeping the Earth balanced through mindful magneto-resonance. The responsibilities of an immortal avatar are legion, and I hope that you will pardon my absence.
So I was enjoying a refreshing snack of light-energy and juniper smoke while moshing to some Josh Groban, when I began to think about the hysteria regarding the approaching epoch of the Mayan calendar, to wit, 23DEC2012. So much has been attributed to associate my dear friend and colleague, Nostradamus, to this event, that I felt I should clear up some facts about my brother in spirit. Nostradamus and I met during the plague years in Paris, not long after I had discovered the calculus (though I decided the world wasn't ready), and invented the riding crop. I was traveling as an itinerant physician, keeping the company of like-minded souls. Contrary to popular belief, the plague was NOT caused by flea bites (imagine!) but by an overabundance of gold, which saps the soul of its positive karmic functions and releases toxic frequencies. The only cure is to sequester the metal, and, as a trained heirophant, I was in a unique position to aid in this sequestering. If you have doubts (as I'm sure you do, you skulking skeptics!), remember that the plague ended when people ran off to the countryside with nothing but their clothes.
Paris at this time was a rather dull and somber affair, what with the plague and all, so we physicians often had to make do with whatever entertainment we had. After losing interest in life-sized marionettes, Nostrdamus and I often had many nights sitting in our chambers filled with the poison of gold. Boredom!
That is, until I invented gangsta rap.
You see, those century books people are always trying decipher are in actuality freestyle battles of the emcees, which Nostri had written (without my knowledge) as a way to study and cheat. In them, he chronic-led the freewheeling ways of Pimpiliscious feat. Koza-No$tra, our nom-de-guerres. Drawing on my knowledge gained in the 36 chambers of the woo, we freestyled our way through all of Europe, slaying MC after MC, dispatching them with off the hook lyrics, sharp styling, and a touch of Black Death. In accordance to the Papal Pimp Proclamations of 1356, we accumulated the aggregate bling of our departed rivals. Often preceded by our reputations, we rolled through Your-ope like a dropped down Impala crunkin it to 11, often encountering entire villages petrified by our prepresence. Kickin out rhymes like a kung-fu sage, we were unstoppable.
Until we stopped, and I can never speak of that chapter of my life. Tonight, I pour one out for my homie, my brotha, my enemy. Mourn ya' til i join ya!!
Peace, love, and waffles!
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