Cryptic Prophecies in a Fugitive's Red Pupils

I am not a snubnosed revolver. I am many things, but a wheelgun in .38 Special is not one of them. I've ridden in pockets and stung a few hands, though that doesn't make me a Smith nor a Wesson.

I am not Nick Adams, Jay Gatsby, John Galt. Gregory Peck smoked better than me and Humphrey Bogart's less typecast. The problem with some assumptions is that not all martyrs are saints.

I am not Sub Rosa. The Chatham House Rule does not apply herein. Occam's Razor is a joke of the most perverse sort and Murphy's like Gravity without any conscience.

"Anaphora"'s a word redundant as another."Eutony" sounds like "eulogy" and means about the same. Listen through the laughter if you care to know the man.

My work here is done. We should all be committed.

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