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Gwarbley Barbleing
So, I lied.
I said that I would have the Barble out by Wednesday 24th March and here we are on Wednesday 31st March and the Barble is, hopefully, out on the Streets. If I don't make the intended publication, I'm going to leave this in so we can laugh at how much I missed it by.
Anyway, as a result of this, the articles that my faithful team reported to me are now woefully outdated, as are many of the other things that have been written before today. My solution to this is to just put it out there and for you guys to bask in its genius all the same. Most of it is timeless gold.
So, as I was saying;
UncleNicky.
Oberon.
Ganelon.
Anita.
Marietta.
That's right, you've worked out where I'm going with this. Anyone who is anyone has noticed the big change that has occurred since Issue VIII and Issue IX Don't be shy, we will all just have to accept it. There is no point in fighting it. Let's embrace it, shall we? So, where was I? Oh yes...
UncleNicky.
Oberon.
Ganelon.
Anita.
Marietta.
ANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD...
Taking his rightful place at the top of the mountain........
Possibly the greatest of the greats.....
Probably the greatest of the greats.....
Hell, definitely the greatest of the greats.....
Even though he's low ranked.....
The one....
The only....
Newest Crewleader....
Future Don....
Future Godfather....
Matt. Gondano.
Well, not exactly. The hopes and dreams of the Barble remain unrealised and MattGondano is unfortunately not being placed on a pedestal for us all to bask in his total awesomeness, because he's gone and snuffed it. Usually the Barble would be the first to rejoice at this news but losing a champion like MattGondano is just about the bitterest pill we've ever had to swallow. Like a lemon flavoured DirtyLittleSekrit. Soak up that image.
The nearly-auth/death of MattGondano left the Barble musing over what makes leaders. -Lana- believed, 'leaders are different in ma(n)y ways but we lead just the same" and the Barble couldn't agree more; leaders are different in many ways some are good and some aren't. We'll leave you to draw your own inference there. Not Tyrion though. He completely misses the points of things when he's trying to be nice and justify a lack of street presence with a hearty chuckle and a watch glance so we've banned him from making his own inference. Here's a freebie tip to all potential leaders, when Tyrion does that - shoot that motherfucker right down. Support? Pah! You're some sort of warrior or crusader. What does the endorsement of an important connected member of Cosa Nostra matter to you? Not a jot I say, to arms men!
Speaking of arms, the Barble was a warrior in its day crushing rivals left and right with a swing of our mighty metaphorical broadsword. So when we found out that we were going to be discussing Knights again this week, we sent out part-time mob boss, full-time moron Achilles out in a bid to find out what makes the perfect knight. Apparently our guesses of a gentleman soldier, member of the warrior class or a piece in chess fell well short of the truth. Eileithyia was apparently the perfect knight and Achilles is the perfect idiot. Still, we've used our investigative skills to deduce that Las Vegas was certainly a real hive of mob activity until yesterday, with its knights, crusaders, fortune tellers, windkeepers, strongmen and bearded women. Did I say hive of mob activity? I meant amateur circus. Silly me.
As you may have guessed, whilst the Barble tried to slowly recover from the loss of modern day hero MattGondano by drinking alone in a dark room, clutching a transcript of the v-day conversations, staring longingly at the picture taken that fateful February evening, gently rocking backwards and forwards hoping the tears would wash away the pain, life in MafiaReturns ticked slowly on by. Not as slow as Colin you understand, but still pretty slow. This left the Barble with much to report, but luckily, the Barble had a team of writers that were dedicated and committed. Oh.
Hoopi had been doing push-ups (plural for effect, it was only one) and was in the best condition of his life (which could be likened to the condition of a premature child) rolling up to our offices in his too-tight white shorts and polo shirt, wearing a bright orange sweat band around his greasy head, before punching out a solid, outdated, story and claiming it was 'no sweat dudes'. Whilst his contract at the Barble is up in the summer and I doubt it'll be getting renewed, with this looming over him he did manage to provide a disappointing summary of Los Angeles following his vacation there to get a new summer wardrobe.
shelly had gone on compassionate leave and the back room, executive suite at Cap'n Bob's Pirate Fun House and Male Go Go Bar had been reserved all week in the name of Mr B. Liar. Jim-Levenstein hadn't been on the Streets either. We would say that is a coincidence and they were probably tanking away on each other, but in fairness, he hadn't been seen since long before shelly went off. Of course, we wish shelly the best. By the best I obviously mean all the aids in the world.
Colin was still fat and useless, so definitely didn't produce anything. I'd dress this up in some way, but there is only so many times you can tolerate someone being fat and useless before you just decide they need to be told they are fat and useless and hopefully they'll kill themselves as a result of being fat and useless. That's a hint, fatty.
This left Barble superstar and housewives pin-up Gwarble to step forward and produce the rest of the issue alone.
Oh.
Joy.
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Leader's Hands - Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes
by Gwarble
As a recently appointed Captain in the fine old city of New York, I feel qualified to offer my learned opinion on the matter at hand. My hands actually. DirtyLittleSekrit was out on the streets, asking if a leader's hands should be respected, demanding to know why "Left and Right Hands of a leader, of a family, of a city, treated with little to no respect by some? When did their roles in our world become so diminished that they are treated like just another guy?"
An intriguing question. Are my majestic hands worthy of respect? They do produce many wonderful things - the Barble being one such example. I'm also something of a craftsman, Barble Towers is adorned in many fine figurines as a result of my magnificent whittling and I suppose they've given the old one-two to a variety of impudent journalist upstarts.
However, whether or not my hands are the finest utensils ever made wasn't actually the issue that really caught the Barble's eye. Nor was it the apparent disrespect to FlyingPig, but instead it was the fact that DirtyLittleSekrit is some sort of horrible mutant. We aren't ones to judge anyone on their appearance (we've had our fair share of DRs from Colin after all) but the alarming news out of Los Angeles this week is that the dirty little secret that DirtyLittleSekrit has been keeping is usually tied around her waist. That's right, she has three hands.
Her loving Right Hand, FlyingPig, handing out balloons to the kiddies while her Left Hands, Pepe and Fatman, hand out free popcorn to the adults.
Nobody can doubt her ability to multi-task managing to dish out balloons to children and popcorn to the adults, but we've decided that naming your hands is creepy and having two left hands is downright weird. No wonder she has difficulty drawing in a crowd, she'd have been better off in the Las Vegas circus with the knights, fortune tellers and windkeepers. We also don't want to speculate what she gets up to with her 'loving' right hand. Shudder.
(The full story about disrespect to the advisors of a crewleader can be found here.)
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Crazy Fortune Teller - Cryptic Backing
by Hoopi
An old man yells out from the crowd, "Huh?! What the heck is an I-Pod?". Barble puppeteer, much-loved, highly respected and good-looking mobster, Hoopi, grabs the man by the scruff of the neck, slapping him in the face from side to side, forehand to backhand. It's almost comedic in style actually. "Pull yourself together you moron, she's eloquent and well turned out, but she's lying or demented!". Hoopi wanders off, a smug grin working its way over his face. He knew these iPod things would never come to fruition on these shores. He also knew how to pronounce iPod properly*, unlike their foreseer, Twi...Tritium.
The scene was Tritium's crystal ball outing. Now might be a good time to mention the fact the St Louis Made Man was drinking Gin throughout the speech. Suddenly it all makes sense. Alchy.
Tritium's (fore)sight-seeing was met with general disdain by those first on the scene including LA city head, IsThereEvenASekrit, and Chicago's camp right-hand, Mercury. I say right-hand, sometimes it's left hand, sometimes it's mouth....just depends what mood Iota's in. Admittedly, DefinitelyNoSekrit was slightly more constructive in her appraisal than Mercury, who was happy to deliver an all out attack calling Tritium an "absolute fucking cretin". The crowd gasped in absolute amazement as the line was delivered. Not because of the content, but the very fact that Mercury had stepped away from the fence. You didn't see that one coming did you Tritium!?! Charlatan. New York Captain, Achilles, was also lurking at the scene, with his balls hanging out and muttering something unintelligible. Most likely something to do with what he was going to do to Shelly that night. Those two are pure filth, Evangeline tells me**.
Anyway, just as numbers started to dwindle, people started to retreat to their HQs, and kids went robbing old grannies, Las Vegas leader Cryptic rode in to sweep the helpless dame off her feet. I use the term 'feet' loosely. In actual fact she was on her face out of her face by this time. Alchy. Cryptic said a quick something about originality and hypocrites, but I'm not sure what, the irony was overwhelming and I'd heard it all before. He jumped back on his horse, Tritium in tow, and departed to ponder his next move.
As it happens, his next move was to reassess the streets through the medium of speech. I won't go into detail; it was a wordy reiteration of his want for originality. Suffice to say; Your Nan. Game, set, match, and championship.
* Not really, they don't exist.
** She'd know.
(You can find Tritium's speech here and Cryptic's here.)
Author's Note: Obviously this was written at a time before Cryptic, Tritium and Achilles bit the bullet. Wait...what? Achilles alive? No way! Anyway, for those of you that hadn't heard the news, sadly, Tritium was killed when she walked in front of a bus that wasn't meant to be there on time. Cryptic, meanwhile, finally fulfilled his own quest for originality when he was shot in the face by New York leader Dinoemne. Hang on, that's not original you scoundrel! Almost had us there. LV fail. We'll chalk this one up as another Barble victory.
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The life and times of Carlo_Tiscalli
by Gwarble
In our business, sometimes relationships breakdown. The specifics of the breakdown between Philly and Las Vegas are going to be discussed in hilarious detail shortly, but this war caused many casualties. Many high ranking and powerful individuals got gunned down in the turf war that ensued and there was nobody more important lost than Carlo_Tiscalli.
As a tribute to the great Wise Guy, we've decided to honour the life and times of Carlo_Tiscalli. This comprehensive record of his achievements, contributions, business transactions and dealings (big or small) is likely to live on long after his death - it is that formidable.
The Legacy of Carlo_Tiscalli
Turned to a life of crime: March 17th.
Died: March 26th.
As you can see, with everything he ever achieved in life documented above, it is clear why he has fully earned the title of "No Name C".
Congratulations.
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The War of March 25th/26th
by Gwarble
War, war, war. That is the Barble war siren that usually goes off right before publication, requiring a hasty reprint. As usual it was wailing louder than TheDean does. I'm sure you have no idea how loud TheDean does because he hasn't left his HQ since the early 1920s, but we have it on good authority from Evangeline that he's a screamer.
This war, whilst referred to as "The War of March 25th/26th" by Cryptic, should probably have earned a more insulting, demeaning title like "The War of Unrequited Love", "The War of American Love Dependence" or "The Franco-Prussian War". Maybe not the last one, but certainly something highlighting just how embarrassing the motivation was for this was, would certainly be right on the money in our eyes.
Like most love stories, this one was about a girl. The girl in question, Hickory-dickory-dock-the-mouse-ran-up-the-clock-the-clock-struck-one-the-mouse-ran-down-hickory-dickory-dock Jones, was the daughter of the former RHM to the Godfather of Las Vegas Ellies, who both Lucretia Borgia and Cryptic had something of an attachment to. Cryptic viewed her as a surrogate daughter following the death of her mother who was rubbed out by PH/LA/NO and fully expected to induct her into a life of crime to replace his loss. Unfortunately for him, Lucretia Borgia snaffled up Hickory and appointed her to Left Hand of Philadelphia instead.
This led to some tears pooling around Cryptic's feet and what he describes as a 'case of wires getting crossed and emotions becoming extremely involved' we describe as 'a right old hissy fit'. Lucretia felt that Cryptic had pulled on his fur lined boots, felt gloves and coonskin hat, picked up his rifle and was going poaching for some Hickory when he mentioned to his Right Hand that Hickory would be an excellent RH for her should she ever be given a shot at the big job. Cryptic refuted the charge claiming that he was actually just out hunting for a set of balls. Judging from what followed we assume he was unsuccessful.
Lucretia spat the dummy worse than Deimne does when he speaks without his false teeth in. Old Gummy would have been disappointed with the 'if I can't have her nobody can' suckfest that followed:
Cryptic to Hickory: I can't talk to you because it'll upset Lucretia, wa, wa, wa.
Lucretia to Cryptic: That's right you can't talk to her wa, wa, wa.
Lucretia to Cryptic: Don't tell her I've banned you from speaking to her wa, wa, wa.
Hickory to Lucretia: How dare you ban my BFF from talking to me! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Yada, yada, so on and so fucking forth.
The two supposed Godfathers of the city bickered like small love struck children over whose trouser leg Hickory would have the opportunity to climb up that evening and they continued to butt heads with each other, until finally Lucretia decided enough was enough and took a shot at Cryptic. In hilariously amateurish fashion (rather befitting of the whole period drama this turned out to be really) Lucretia missed Cryptic, then nothing happened for a few minutes. This has been commonly referred to as the "CrazyNine effect" where after only a few seconds of activity, everything fizzles out again.
Eventually things did stir into life (something Mrs Nine is very unaccustomed to) and many, many people bit the bullet. It was something of a travesty in our opinion that so many people snuffed it over these ridiculous circumstances. Emotion and business are even less suitable bedfellows than it would seem Lucretia, Cryptic and Hickory are, sharing the duvet in a nice four poster with a river view.
A disappointing end to two cities.
(You can find the real reasons for the war here.)
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The Sekrit's Out - Latest Sexually Ambiguous 'Godperson'
by Hoopi
Just when you'd thought it was all clear. Just when you'd thought that Lucretia's shooting had sounded the death knell for sexual confusion and cross dressing. Just when you'd got used to the fact that DLS had boobs. What happens? She declares herself a Godfather, that's what! Under the likes of Kates, Lucretia and Tallien* we'd grown so used to this 'skewed reality' that this reversion to a more respectable norm seems, well, quite fitting frankly.
Donning her full denim suit, cowboy boots and socks down her jeans**, DLS announced her arrival to the Godfather table by sending out a massive "Fuck You All" to the streets. Surrounded by Fuck Yous to various nobodies that we don't care about, like Sherrif_Fatman, Madejski and FlyingPig, she saved her biggest Fuck You for the Godfathers of New York and St Louis, Deimne and CrazyNine, respectively. Will these MEN of honour stand there and take a bitch-slapping like good little boys, or will they respond? I think you know the answer. The silence is deafening. Cluck. Cluck. Now, come on DLS, put the boys' balls back in your purse and let's move on, shall we.
This wasn't the main news that weekend though, no. In the midst of a furious authing period by the LA leader, where she setup a staggering 17 auths*** in two days, the main news was that Lana had left New York. The size of the celebrations in New York that day bore out this fact. What's that I hear you say? "Who is Lana and why the celebrations?" well, let me put it another way. No-one knew who Lana was so we weren't celebrating her departure. Sneakyrat's her left hand man though... 'nuff said? Yes, in a masterstroke that represents the high-water mark in his tenure, Deimne managed to offload the Consigliere mouthpiece that literally ones of people like to listen to (yes, the one is himself). A tip of the cap to you Deimne, we here at the Barble are very, VERY proud of you.
Buried in amongst the other sheets of paper that landed on my desk, I see that Misery and Madejski were also set-up in Los Angeles that day. Before you ask, I don't know either. The most notable story there is the completely conspicuous timing of Madejski's auth, as LA looked to pick up some of fallout from the Hickory love triangle. No you filthy pricks, not that love triangle, the other one....involving Philly and Las Vegas. Fair play to LA there.
(You can find DLS' GF speech here. Whilst the other LA auth speeches are here, and here.)
* Fuck off, he was no man. Did you see the way he/she/it buckled in power? Only Gaius has a shorter run as GF under him, surely.
** Read: Genes.
*** Roughly.
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The War of March 28th/29th
also by Gwarble
War, war, war. For. Fuck. Sake.
With the siren blazing, shelly Dutch Ruddering his way back to happyville and Hoopi more exhausted than -TonySperio- is with sneakyrat's 'accidental' nightly examination of the inside of his and -Lana-'s bedroom through his telescope, it was on Gwarble to get down to the Las Vegas wasteland and get the scoop.
The Barble has no time to get bogged down in things like 'investigation' and 'confirming the facts', which we've firmly decided are for sissies. Instead, we've decided to plough on with the reasons as we see them, rather than the poxy things that Deimne used to provide us with his 'reasoning'.
Deimne:
The reason for the war is very simple. When a city is planning to attack you, you don't let them. I'll happily put my life on the line to protect a New Yorker, so you can be sure as hell I'll put other lives to the sword in order to protect them.
Truth:
The reason for the war is very simple. I'm a big fat old meanie and I like to smash things like an angry infant.
Deimne:
Following the recent war, the Godfather of Las Vegas hit the streets. He demanded that nobody touched the unsponsored Las Vegas residents, a very fair demand given his role as Godfather of the city, that nobody touch the Philly unsponsored members and that all unsponsords were not to be invited.
Truth:
After the lovefest of 25th/26th Cryptic told everyone that he was the Daddy and this was how things would be. I was all 'lol whatever mate'.
Deimne:
I took into account his lack of sleep and the exertions of war and didn't take my issues public. We all make mistakes due to fatigue, so I was willing to let this one slide with nothing more than some friendly advice.
Truth:
I'm a moody bastard, I fuck up a lot, so I though ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, chance time.
Deimne:
Next, following the war, a young mafiosi was cut down on the streets...I personally insisted that the loss suffered by this young man would be returned to his next of kin. This discussion got heated, with the Godfather admitting that balian, not only a leader but a former hand to the Godfather, had made a mistake... but then demanding that proof be provided for anything more than the bare minimum of compensation to be paid.
Truth:
One of my 'boys' wink wink nudge nudge was killed. I was sad. I had a cry and I wanted his foxy son to receive some compensation (bribe) so that he wasn't cheated. Cryptic wanted proof he was over 18. I was furious.
Deimne:
Following all this, one of my leaders was approached by Godfather Cryptic. He suggested that one of the members of that family had been a part of the war and should be taken care of. Within 30 seconds of this 'suggestion', it was easily confirmed by myself and my leader beyond question that this was nothing more than a case of mistaken identity by the Godfather of Las Vegas. This young member has never been part of another family or ever called anywhere home but New York. So, again, I had some choice words with the Godfather pointing out his mistake and emphasising the issues associated with accusing someone in this nature, 100% in the wrong.
Truth:
Cryptic rocked up to one of my guys and was all 'eh one of Deimne's guys, one of your boys there was trying to blast me out. Want him iced - pronto.' I was all 'na man, naaaaaaaa'.
Deimne:
Now, after all that, do you see grounds for a war? No? Well, me neither.
Truth:
That's right. I am a time wasting bastard.
Deimne:
In a conversation directly passed to me from a Las Vegas hitroom...
««balian»» Soon, I wanna take down NY
...
««balian»» Soon, not anytime now
Really?
Emmmm, ok. So, when your city have just suffered terrible losses, you've gone out of your way to butt heads with me and New York a number of times and I've gone out of my way to simply warn or forgive you... it's time to plan attacking me? Nice move.
Truth:
You just got yourselves a tasty little serving, now you want to butt heads with me - and not even the heads I like butting - stupido warning.
There you have it, what he said and what he actually meant. You're right, he is an idiot.
(You can find Deimne's actual reasons for the War of 28th/29th March here.)
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Obituaries:
I've decided that no publication of any sufficient calibre is complete without an obituaries section. In our walk of life people die and they will be honoured in this section. Unfortunately in our walk of life some people don't die and we wish they would have. They will also be honoured in this section.
People who have died
...can be found here.
Lazy bastards.
People we wish had died who actually died:
Well, well, well. Sometimes our death wish list is good, but this week (lolz) it is stunning. Six of our wish list have only gone and snuffed it and we think one of them has been lulled into a coma. It isn't looking good for him.
Jewish_Vidi - He put up a very brave fight, but he was always going to lose the battle. Way back in Issue II we pointed the finger at Jewish_Vidi and demanded his death. He turned, he ducked, he dodged but after running with death at his heels for over 2 months, his heart gave out and he was consumed.
Erratic - "Issue's Survived: VI, VII, VIII" and then what happened? Yeah, you went and died. They talk a good game, they act like they are 'above' the curse, but lo and behold it claims another victim. Being relentlessly pursued by your own mortality is too much for some people and Erratic chose to pop himself rather than fall into our clutches. I don't blame him. You don't want to imagine what goes on in the morgue at Barble Towers. Shudder.
David_Webb - Whilst David_Webb is technically still above ground, the grave has already been dug, the tombstone ordered and the epitaph written: Never fuck with the Barble. Missing presumed dead.
Puppet_King - Never praise the rivals of the Barble. We dislike it and so does Jesus.
Leper - This is what you get for toasting people in the streets. Do you see the Barble out here toasting to you? Nooooooooo. Do you know why? It is a death wish. Lesson. Learned.
Joel - You steal my tildes, I steal your life. Don't play the game if you can't handle the stakes. Let this be a lesson to all the other potential ~G~warble stealers out there, we mean business. No balls, no tildes, no life.
Cryptic - There is nothing less original than a corpse. You gave us a retraction but there is no retracting 'the curse'. Once you've been selected the only way to get out of it is to fulfil it. Not even Godfathers are immune to the sultry charm of the curse. Death wish list wins again.
People we wish had died:
The_Heb - Rourke this, Rourke that - Rourke you. We had enough of this collective gang of chumps when they were alive, we certainly don't want to have to hear you talk about them now. Death wish list.
Mystery - I can only assume your relentlessly annoying hounding for this issue stemmed from 90% lust for the Barble and 10% longing for a mention. Here is your mention. Congratulations, you're now dying.
Felicity - Seeing you reminds us too much of the loss of MattGondano. It is too painful.
OneShot - Revan wasn't even important enough to make it onto the Death Wish List. Why oh why did he deserve a street honouring? Did you learn the Leper Lesson? Did you!?
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Acknowledgments
Wow. I've never found one of these as tough to produce as this one. We've had all sort of issues that have hurt our production, from laziness (Colin), personal issues, faulty machinery (managed to pull out my laptop power cable and lose the majority of an issue) and a whole lot of shit happening that pushed publication back and back again. I also took on the additional responsibilities as a Captain which probably didn't make things any easier. Gave me a joke for the opening though; swings and roundabouts.
Still, the important thing is that we got there. It was a struggle and a genuine thank you to Hoopi, who's last piece gave me the inspiration to write all the rest. Massive anger to shelly for being a horny little bastard and wasting all his time in Cap'n Bob's instead of writing things. Well in "mate".
I fully expect those people who pestered me about this issue (and you know who you are) to respond to this with how much you love it. If we don't get an acceptable level of responses I'm going to stop doing it. So there.
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Something like a disclaimer:
If I've taken a pot shot at you in this, it is because I think you're big enough to handle a joke and may find it funny yourself. If I've thought wrongly and you aren't big enough to handle that, I'm a Boss (again) usually found in Philly. RIP Gwarble.
You put up a brave fight Issue IX, but you have been beaten.
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