The Adventures of E.R. Dietz
March 21st, 2021 at 5:39:19 PM
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My cousin, E.R. Dietz, back from hiatus on the astral plane, demonstrated his March Madness methodology 20 days ago. I had just seen Syracuse at 360-1 to win the title. I didn't have the courage of my convictions, but E.R. decided he would meditate and cogitate on it. He retreated to his room, a la Sherlock Holmes with his violin and pipe, except E.R. uses new high strength weed and wall posters of Nastassja and the Snake to focus his chi. I heard him "Om'ing" for hours on end, and I became a bit concerned when smoke started pouring out from under the door of his room, but when I knocked, his voice assured me it was a smoke test by the local utility company, forcing smoke though various pipe systems in our neighborhood. The marijuana smell was strong, but as with most things, I assumed E.R. knew whereof he spoke, so I didn't panic.
Eventually, around midnight, E.R. opened the door, and great billows of heaver-than-air clouds cascaded out of his room. The intense weed smell was sickly sweet, and I did notice that E.R.'s left eye was rolling back in his head whenever he said "bet," but he said he didn't need an ambulance, so I brought him some water and Wild Turkey on the rocks, and he proceeded to tell me that he had just sold half of his bitcoin for Syracuse at 360-1 and some magic beans. The beans were kidney beans, so he could grow a new kidney and sell it in case Syracuse lost their first round game. E.R. said he never hedges until after two games are played, and he had two kidneys, so he was good to go.
He carried one of his Nastassja posters rolled up in one hand, and he said he needed to commune with spirits once he had recovered from his latest cogitating. I suggested he relax by playing in some online poker tournaments. He agreed, and I finally mentioned the thing with his left eye rolling backwards into his head whenever he said "bet." I told him that it was freaking me out. He agreed to use the word "wager" instead of "bet," then he settled into a desk chair to play some poker and recover from his cogitating ordeal.
He had the worst luck at poker -- he cashed nine consecutive tournaments, but didn't win any. His best finish was a second. After about eight hours, he was ready for sleep, and returned to his room. It was 8 AM.
He promised he'd reconvene with the spirit world in the afternoon, after he'd given Natassja her required morning loving and gotten some decent sleep. He put IN-A-Gadda-Da-Vida on a loop and turned his stereo volume to 11. I finally fell asleep myself after about two hours. Tough to sleep with that song echoing through the house, but Wild Turkey helped.
I needed the rest. Keeping watch on E.R. during his spirit world handicapping ventures would be no easy task, and the afternoon promised to be daunting.
Eventually, around midnight, E.R. opened the door, and great billows of heaver-than-air clouds cascaded out of his room. The intense weed smell was sickly sweet, and I did notice that E.R.'s left eye was rolling back in his head whenever he said "bet," but he said he didn't need an ambulance, so I brought him some water and Wild Turkey on the rocks, and he proceeded to tell me that he had just sold half of his bitcoin for Syracuse at 360-1 and some magic beans. The beans were kidney beans, so he could grow a new kidney and sell it in case Syracuse lost their first round game. E.R. said he never hedges until after two games are played, and he had two kidneys, so he was good to go.
He carried one of his Nastassja posters rolled up in one hand, and he said he needed to commune with spirits once he had recovered from his latest cogitating. I suggested he relax by playing in some online poker tournaments. He agreed, and I finally mentioned the thing with his left eye rolling backwards into his head whenever he said "bet." I told him that it was freaking me out. He agreed to use the word "wager" instead of "bet," then he settled into a desk chair to play some poker and recover from his cogitating ordeal.
He had the worst luck at poker -- he cashed nine consecutive tournaments, but didn't win any. His best finish was a second. After about eight hours, he was ready for sleep, and returned to his room. It was 8 AM.
He promised he'd reconvene with the spirit world in the afternoon, after he'd given Natassja her required morning loving and gotten some decent sleep. He put IN-A-Gadda-Da-Vida on a loop and turned his stereo volume to 11. I finally fell asleep myself after about two hours. Tough to sleep with that song echoing through the house, but Wild Turkey helped.
I needed the rest. Keeping watch on E.R. during his spirit world handicapping ventures would be no easy task, and the afternoon promised to be daunting.
"You can't breathe dead hippo waking, sleeping, and eating, and at the same time keep your precarious grip on existence."
March 21st, 2021 at 5:52:46 PM
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Great story redietz! I hope that it goes 350 pages. Just how much bitcoin does ER possess?
March 21st, 2021 at 6:00:04 PM
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Quote: BoSoxGreat story redietz! I hope that it goes 350 pages. Just how much bitcoin does ER possess?
Three things I never ask E.R.:
1) How much money he has.
2) Regarding evidence for Nastassja.
3) About his access to various pharmaceuticals.
I refrain from asking simply because I adhere to that Sgt. Schultz maxim, "I know nothing. Noth----ing!" I have made it this far in life with zero convictions on 17 felony charges, and I intend to keep my reputation spotless.
"You can't breathe dead hippo waking, sleeping, and eating, and at the same time keep your precarious grip on existence."
March 22nd, 2021 at 3:42:36 AM
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The initial post is an obvious trolling parody of MDawg. He has done it before so seven days this time.
Thread closed.
Thread closed.
"For with much wisdom comes much sorrow." -- Ecclesiastes 1:18 (NIV)
