Attend the tale of Rafe Major . . .
likewhoaaa:
and who's this rs/rm s&m person anyhow?
Funny you should ask, Likewhoaaa. The great minds of our generation (otherwise known as the reckless feckless young journal surfers out there in cyberspace) have been trying to puzzle out the answer to that very question for quite some time now.
RS/RM, it would seem, is a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, liquored up and left for dead in a dumpster behind your local Craker Barrel.
But on with our story . . .
RM, known to an elite few as Rafe Major, began life as the sardonically irreverent alter-ego of a certain sexually predatory Kenyon professor. Professor X,* it would seem, grew bored of the solitary monotony of his old whips and chains routine and decided that it was time to share his life with someone. However, as previously established, Prof X is an incurable sociopath and incredibly creepy, so the chances of him meeting a hot, rakish, sardonically irreverent piece of ass like Rafe Major in the real world were slim to none. Therefore, Prof X did what any right-thinking middle-aged sex offender would do - he concocted a fictional life partner.
Rafe Major soon became an indispensable part of Prof X's life. His faculties were infinite, his skills boundless. He could cook up a mean fondue, post massively flattering (and equally improbable) reviews of X's book on amazon.com, grade papers, curse in five languages, sing the entirety of 'Modern Major General,' play a deadly game of Snood (indeed, he was oft heard remark, 'I like my snoods like I like my women: stacked), and he looked good in leather. However, the bliss of this utopian partnership was to be short-lived.
Prof X ran afoul of a certain young Kenyon student, a monster whose intense self-loathing manifested itself in countless acts of vegan terrorism and petty crime. The student was a menace - a time-bomb ready to explode. I've even heard it rumored that he smoked The Mara-ja-wana. Prof X made a fatal mistake when he called the student's (let's call him Billy) magnum opus on Greek Music "gassy." From that day forth, Prof X's life would become a world of pain.
In early 2003, Billy's cohorts, an enterprising group of then-freshmen at Kenyon College, stumbled upon the existence of Rafe Major while attempting to buy a 1992 "Crazy Kitties" calendar at the Amazon Z-Shops. Within days, the disaffected youths had formed a gang, a terrorist cell operating out of the seemy corridors of McBride Wellness. Within weeks, a plan had been formulated for the abduction and subsequent torture of Rafe Major.
The kidnapping proceeded as arranged, and Rafe Major soon entered into the custody of Billy and his posse. Yet, RM still had one card left to be played. Billy and his demonic crew had prepared for everything. They had predicted Prof X and Rafe Major's every move. Everything, that is, except the inexplicable, unpredictable forces of attraction.
Among the abductors was one RAS. Leave it to be said that she was a diamond in the rough, an unparalleled beauty of uncomprising virtue and unmatched intellect. She was a damn fine chick. But I digress. In RAS, Rafe Major found his soulmate, his better half. She matched him as Prof X never could. Before long, it became clear that they were smitten with each other. Call it Stockholm Syndrome or True Love, the fact of the matter was that these two kooky kids had found each other in the middle of this crazy mixed-up world, and they were not going to let go. And so it was that RAS helped RM escape from the clutches of Billy the Kid and his bloodthirsty gang of killer freshmen.
Today, RAS and RM enjoy a more sedate existence. The days of intrigue and espionage behind them, they're more likely to curl up in front of a 'Golden Girls' rerun with their faithful African Pygmy Hedgehog, Padma, than stir up an international incident. In fact, they are mostly content to stay up late into the night nuzzling and writing LJ entries over a plate of Osso Buco (or fresh grilled Haggis, weather permitting).
Alas, every so often, RM's heartstrings give a little twang and he picks up his crop and studded dog collar and wanders over to Horwitz House, to peer in the windows at his former Master and reminisce about the torrid days and nights spent in Prof X's lair. Some say that if you wander down South, you can still hear the crack of a phantom whip during Quest for Justice.
Hope that clears everything up. Please note that most entries are marked RM/RS and are a collaboration between these two great minds. Entries that are solely marked RAS or RM are the work of one or the other.
Signing off,
RM/RS
* Professor X bears no relation to the bare-pated X-Men dude, and is actually quite pissed with Patrick Stewart for stealing his act. Names have merely been omitted to protect the guilty.
and who's this rs/rm s&m person anyhow?
Funny you should ask, Likewhoaaa. The great minds of our generation (otherwise known as the reckless feckless young journal surfers out there in cyberspace) have been trying to puzzle out the answer to that very question for quite some time now.
RS/RM, it would seem, is a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, liquored up and left for dead in a dumpster behind your local Craker Barrel.
But on with our story . . .
RM, known to an elite few as Rafe Major, began life as the sardonically irreverent alter-ego of a certain sexually predatory Kenyon professor. Professor X,* it would seem, grew bored of the solitary monotony of his old whips and chains routine and decided that it was time to share his life with someone. However, as previously established, Prof X is an incurable sociopath and incredibly creepy, so the chances of him meeting a hot, rakish, sardonically irreverent piece of ass like Rafe Major in the real world were slim to none. Therefore, Prof X did what any right-thinking middle-aged sex offender would do - he concocted a fictional life partner.
Rafe Major soon became an indispensable part of Prof X's life. His faculties were infinite, his skills boundless. He could cook up a mean fondue, post massively flattering (and equally improbable) reviews of X's book on amazon.com, grade papers, curse in five languages, sing the entirety of 'Modern Major General,' play a deadly game of Snood (indeed, he was oft heard remark, 'I like my snoods like I like my women: stacked), and he looked good in leather. However, the bliss of this utopian partnership was to be short-lived.
Prof X ran afoul of a certain young Kenyon student, a monster whose intense self-loathing manifested itself in countless acts of vegan terrorism and petty crime. The student was a menace - a time-bomb ready to explode. I've even heard it rumored that he smoked The Mara-ja-wana. Prof X made a fatal mistake when he called the student's (let's call him Billy) magnum opus on Greek Music "gassy." From that day forth, Prof X's life would become a world of pain.
In early 2003, Billy's cohorts, an enterprising group of then-freshmen at Kenyon College, stumbled upon the existence of Rafe Major while attempting to buy a 1992 "Crazy Kitties" calendar at the Amazon Z-Shops. Within days, the disaffected youths had formed a gang, a terrorist cell operating out of the seemy corridors of McBride Wellness. Within weeks, a plan had been formulated for the abduction and subsequent torture of Rafe Major.
The kidnapping proceeded as arranged, and Rafe Major soon entered into the custody of Billy and his posse. Yet, RM still had one card left to be played. Billy and his demonic crew had prepared for everything. They had predicted Prof X and Rafe Major's every move. Everything, that is, except the inexplicable, unpredictable forces of attraction.
Among the abductors was one RAS. Leave it to be said that she was a diamond in the rough, an unparalleled beauty of uncomprising virtue and unmatched intellect. She was a damn fine chick. But I digress. In RAS, Rafe Major found his soulmate, his better half. She matched him as Prof X never could. Before long, it became clear that they were smitten with each other. Call it Stockholm Syndrome or True Love, the fact of the matter was that these two kooky kids had found each other in the middle of this crazy mixed-up world, and they were not going to let go. And so it was that RAS helped RM escape from the clutches of Billy the Kid and his bloodthirsty gang of killer freshmen.
Today, RAS and RM enjoy a more sedate existence. The days of intrigue and espionage behind them, they're more likely to curl up in front of a 'Golden Girls' rerun with their faithful African Pygmy Hedgehog, Padma, than stir up an international incident. In fact, they are mostly content to stay up late into the night nuzzling and writing LJ entries over a plate of Osso Buco (or fresh grilled Haggis, weather permitting).
Alas, every so often, RM's heartstrings give a little twang and he picks up his crop and studded dog collar and wanders over to Horwitz House, to peer in the windows at his former Master and reminisce about the torrid days and nights spent in Prof X's lair. Some say that if you wander down South, you can still hear the crack of a phantom whip during Quest for Justice.
Hope that clears everything up. Please note that most entries are marked RM/RS and are a collaboration between these two great minds. Entries that are solely marked RAS or RM are the work of one or the other.
Signing off,
RM/RS
* Professor X bears no relation to the bare-pated X-Men dude, and is actually quite pissed with Patrick Stewart for stealing his act. Names have merely been omitted to protect the guilty.