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Hey, it's emotedcreations, they won't let me have my old name back 'cause I can't remember my password and my old email has long since expired.  Hope you remember me!

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Chain is without a doubt one of my most favorite people on this site! He's truly my brother like no other... biggrin

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Chainlink is just a big hunk of wonderful. Oh, and have you seen him in a tie? He always has something interesting or insightful to share.

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If Chainlink is good enough, pardon me. . .GOOD enough. . . to go on a meth/Pez bender with Train, then he's just the guy I want making my drug runs too. I am no longer running out of Vientienne; its all about Syria these days (rumors of my dabbling in the dwarf-sex trade are fiercely over-exaggerated), and anyone who can knock off woodpecker from 50 feet away - with a bullet spit from his own mouth - well, that is just the cheeky sort of hominid I want watching my back!

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So there's good people, and then there's GOOD people, and Chainlink's in with the latter, you know? I'm saying... so there was that one time in Tirana, (Albania, for those of you shut-ins who never run guns or engage in sex toursim) and Chain and I had just about run out of gas on a 96 hour meth and pez bender. We're in a grimy speakeasy playing a sleepy game of Carpet Rummy when this Macedonian bloke we'd sold Stingers to back in '94 stumbles in, ambles up, and offers to buy us a round of plum brandy for old times. The barman's this goliath with a walrus mustache and an eyepatch, and he gets all puffed up and bald when I mention that, as far as I see it, the brutality the Ottoman State during its centuries long occupation of the Balkans should always be viewed in the context of a state that was genuinely inclusive when its perceived security concerns allowed it to be so. I mentioned certain famous Grand Viziers of Armenian decent, and next thing you know the cyclopic beer slinger's vaulted the bar and he's got both thumbs pressed uncomfortably against my eyeballs. Chainlink, no stranger to interrupted cardgames and sectarian violence, was ready with a blowgun, bolts tipped with that secret poison our favorite Brujo back in Guarani so favored, and summarily dispatched the giant. The Macedonian, Interpol hot on his case, was disinclined to hang about until the state security forces arrived. When he bolted, Chain and I, along with Polyphemus in the dirt, were alone in the joint. We robbed it. Found a priceless stash of Thracian artifacts and a few mid-70s Mayfair mags in the safe. On the boat back to Sicily he saved my life again. That's another story.