Central Park New York, an unusually mild December afternoon. All is seemingly quiet…

You are standing there admiring the tranquillity, that is until you hear a 'Phut, Phut, Phut' of a misfiring 2-cylinder engine. Cursing the break in your impromptu meditation you flick the remains of your cigar toward a nearby strutting pigeon causing it to hop out of the way and give you the look.

“Fuck me…” you mutter to yourself, “even the pigeons have balls in this city.”

The engine noise has become much louder, accompanied now with a thick purple tinged smog, the smog clears slightly and from the murk you see a bedraggled looking clown standing atop a decrepit soap box.  The clown has a fistful of papers in his hand, more surprisingly you catch the remnants of what seems, at first count, at least a dozen midgets folding themselves out of the cobbled together miniature Cadillac.  You wonder where the fuck this clown has appeared from, surely to fuck he can’t also have been in that car.

The midgets gather round in a half circle, their attention rapt. You think you recognise one of them, a Wise Guy from this very city kes you think he goes by. Feeling both intrigued and amused you pull out another cigar sit down on a nearby bench and wait to see exactly what the fuck is going on here.

“Today’s philosophical spiel, my height afflicted brethren, is all around the subject of Success and Falure” There is a snigger in the flock of midgets…

“You said that wrong Boss, its Failure” A high pitched squeal emits from the rook.

Faster than your eye can transmit an electric signal to your brain a single midget lies dead in the middle of the group, a 45mm hole bored dead centre of their (It’s not possible at this distance to determine its sex) forehead, a puddle of gore spreads onto the gravel at the same lazy speed the smoke whisps from the muzzle of the biggest fucking Magnum you have ever seen in your life.

“I’ll continue…” The clown lisps, having now again gained the attention of both the midgets and yourself “Falure.”

“Recently my family line has been beget by…. How would you say… a serious of unfortun… nah fuck it… Falures.  Falures they could well have seen, some honourable some dishonourable. But Falures non the less.  I am here today to speak to you all to understand how you little pip squeaks will measure Success! This world of ours revolves around Success! and Falure, there is little in between. Ultimately, we will all swim with the fish”

The clown coughs up a large ball of phlegm and spits it into the Hudson. The clown continues...

“Our Falure will be marked by another’s Success! Yes, we could win at the dicing halls, we could gather enough bobby pins to make a model Statue but I’m interested what marks Success! other than surviving for months on end grinding out a living.”

At this point the clowns gaze slowly locks onto yours, sitting there smoking your cigar.

“You over there… how do you measure Success! in this life of ours? How would you measure Falure?”

You take a deep drag on your cigar, allow the smoke to roll around your palate before forming a considered response…

Foamy stumbles across the Clown (with quite serious bronchial issues), spit a brown, tar induced loogy.  The loogy arcing almost balletically before finding it's way to the dirty brine of the Hudson

Fighting his way to past the midgets, almost tripping over Kes, the housewives favourite squirrel raises his arm.

Before I get involved in this, what i'm sure will be dynamic discourse, may I ask if gimps are allowed?

With an over theatrical sweep of his massive garishly colored clown sleeve the clown intones:

"Do you see any gimps here? Maybe you will find gimps further up river talking to themselves about adventures that never occurred. This my furry friend is real. It is now. Please, do feel free to engage in some discussion.  That, after all, is what these fine streets are all about, is it not?"

Foamy does that thing where he scratches his ear with his hind leg

This is exceptional news my Jolly Jongleur

Now to answer your question, or to be more precise, to respond as I'm not sure a single answer would do the question justice, I would say this.

Success is your own life experience in this world, taking on the role you wish and seeing them true.

Falure is, without a doubt, talking nonsense to yourself on street corners, then replying and on and on it goes.

that shit is a total falure in my opinion

¹And lo after luncheon he happened upon two men talking in the street, or rather a clown and a squirrel. In the days of yore they would have stopped and stared, and given people pause for thought, but given the days since he had risen again were numerous and the time had passed, this was seen as the norm. ²The men talked of success and failure, and of strange people afflicted with a desire to be clothed in latex, and those smitten with the curse of vertical challengement. 

³After a time he decided to take the opportunity to teach, as he had once taught by the lake. The crowd that had gathered was so large that he climbed upon the hood of a car and put out into the road, while all the people were along the sidewalk at the road's edge. He taught them many things by parables, and in his teaching said: ^4"Listen! Two men left Italy and sailed upon a steam ship to the new world. When they arrived they both struck out on their own to find families to join. ⁵The first man he was a hard worker, and he quickly found employment with a local family. ⁶He worked hard on the streets and earned much money. He was outspoken in the coffee shops and was friendly to the members of his family. ⁷He tithed frequently to his boss, and lavished upon him a multitude of gifts of fine oils and fragrances, of riches and gold and of spices of the world. For many years the man did toil until one day there was a war, and the man was killed. ⁸Many people attended his funeral, and there was much gnashing of teeth and rending of cloth, but the world turned and life went on. a month later, no one remembered the mans name.

⁹The Second man likewise set forth and travelled to the west coast. He too soon found a family. He worked hard on the streets and he too earned much money. However he was quiet and did not engage in the coffee shops. ¹⁰He spoke with a sharp tongue and mugged those who picked his pocket. He killed his brothers and his sisters, and swept through out the land like a plague of locusts, bring death and sorrow where ever he went. For many months there was much lamenting and gnashing of teeth. ¹¹The people of the land cried out to their gods, asking, 'Why have you forsaken us?' but the gods were quiet. After a long time, people rose up and smote the man, returning him to the dust from whence the Father had created him. ¹²Many also attended his funeral, some with words of remorse and respect, others with tongues like a viper. 

¹³A year later a man came to the new world to seek his fortune, and he came upon a group of men talking on a street corner. ¹⁴He approached the men and asked, 'Pray tell me of what you speak?' and the men told him of a time long ago when a man had come and ruled the world with an iron fist, rewarding those who were friend, and punishing those who were not."

¹⁵Then GeeZeus said, “Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.”

¹⁶When he was alone, the Two and the others around him asked him about the parables. He told them, ¹⁷“The secret of the immortality has been given to you. But to those on the outside everything is said in parables ¹⁸so that, they may be ever seeing but never perceiving, and ever hearing but never understanding; otherwise they might turn and see the light!"

Foamy listens in awe at the hippy like ragamuffin with his clothes in tatters.

The squirrel interpreted the parables and began to consider being a disciple of the bearded hipster whose words moved him

so, what you're saying is basically 'shoot them in the gace'?

¹⁸Then GeeZeus said to them, “Don’t you understand this parable? How then will you understand any parable? 

¹⁹The First man comes to this land. He has much success. He is rich and he has friends. But on his death he is forgotten. Life is busy, and the time to mourn the passing of friends is short. ²⁰The second man is also rich, but he seeks to make his mark. He stamps his authority on the world and makes it his. How he does this is unimportant, simply that he succeeds. True success in this life is not judged by how much you are liked, how much money you have, or much you donate to your crewleader. No, success is measured by how long people remember you once you are gone. 

²¹He said to the Squirrelly one, “Do you switch on a lamp only to put it under a bucket or in a cupboard? Instead, don’t you put it where its light may shine for all to see and to light the way? ²²For that which is hidden is meant to be disclosed, and whatever is concealed is meant to be brought out into the open. ²³If you have ears to listen, then hear.”

²⁴“Consider carefully what you hear,” he continued. “With the measure you use, it will be measured to you—and even more. ²⁵Whomever has, will be given more; whomever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them.”

Foamy listens in wonder as the bohemian hipster (but with an epic beard) speaks truth via scripture.

Soooooooo basically, we all die in the end so we may as well shoot people in the gace?

also, point 25 is harsh man, a real downer.

²⁶"This is the way."

Foamy sways too and fro

you had me at latex, consider me a disciple!

A few hours had passed. The clown remained motionless a 1000-yard stare fixed on his face, drool slowly dribbling onto his chin, the red makeup on his lips marking rivulets not too much similar to blood down his long-pointed chin.

From deep within his pocket he draws out a live goose…

You double take, yes that’s definitely a full grown live fucking goose.

The clown throws the goose upwards, obviously sensing freedom, the goose flaps ungainly into the air letting out a series of very distressful sounding honks.  It circles the gathered crowd a couple of times emptying it bowels in a seeming sign of defiance, the majority of which falls just short of a man stood upon the hood of a car splattering his leather strapped sandals.

“Fuck me…” You think to yourself “I’m going to have to get out more often, it’s all happening here today”

The clown coughs gaining the attention of the gathering crowd, midgets included whose attention is now solely fixed on the man covered in goose shite.

Circling round the area the goose looks really pleased with itself letting out the occasional triumphant honk!

“HONK!”

“Success! The Goose is free!” The Clown speaks, now obviously fully woken up from its stasis.

“Look at the majestic beast fly, celebrating its fortune by doing what is does best, flying and covering things in shit.  All can see it.”

The Clown pulls out his oversized magnum and raises it to the sky, eyes still fixed on the crowd he squeezes the trigger – The goose explodes into a ball of red gore and feathers

“Falure! The goose is dead!”

Looking directly at the man wearing sandals the clown continues...

“These are simple folk my friend. There is a parable all can understand and a very extreme example of the fine line between Success! and Falure”

Looking out over the gathering once more the clown sighs.

“A squirrel, a prophet and a gang of midgets. A real shame that someone with authority has not yet come to join this abject lesson.”

Still sitting quietly on your bench your muse to yourself and have to agree with the Clown, it does indeed seem a little disappointing that people holding the current badge of Success! in these cities have not yet come to join in this amazing debacle.  Maybe they are all busy listening to someone read from Mills and Boon further down the river bank.

Vim Fuego walks out into the street he had heard FailClown asking what is success and what is falure? The answer to this question was simple when you was a successful rock star like Vim you had it all groupies adulation from his many fans scorn from failures like NathanExplosion who will never be as metal as Vim nor will his band ever reach the dizzying heights as Bad News has.

Success is being the lead singer lead guiterist lead everything of the greatest Jazz metal band in all of the mafia world Bad News Falure is being just the lead singer of the lamest jazz metal band Dethklok Nathan was suck a falure even Dawn_ could not wait to get rid of him from Chicago, I found out that Magnolia wanted to keep me and Bad News in New York thats why i wasnt given the nod to tour Detroit Rock City. As sad as that is its my success that has me still touring the many clubs here in New York along with my maneger Lubu Bad News will continue to rock all mafia land.

Pressing a button on a tape player music can be heard playing its Bad News latest single Bohemian Rhapsody