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Riddle: What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs in the evening?

Answer: Man. He crawls on all hands and knees as a baby, walks on two legs as an adult, and walks using a cane in his old age.

Post-Riddle: What is Man's claim to fame?

Post-Answer 1: Knowledge is man's claim to knowledge. [PS: Knowledge is power, according to Bacon. According to he who is already dad though, Knowledge is not power. Knowledge is Power. 50 Cent gets only half-a-buck. Power is no Bach. That honor goes to Breaking Bad which is all about getting the buck.] For he who walks using a cane in his old age, this is his knowledge, all distilled into five answers. The questions are:

1. What is Imagination? 

2. What is Truth?

3. What is God?

4. What is Justice?

5. What is Law? 

The answers are

1. The faculty or action of forming new ideas, or images or concepts of external objects not present to the senses.

2. Truth is the quality or state of being true.

3. God is the supreme. God is the ultimate reality. 

4. Justice is a moral concept that involves treating people fairly and impartially, and holding them accountable for their actions. It can also refer to the legal system, which is designed to judge who should be given benefits or burdens.

5. Law is a set of rules that govern people's behavior and are enforced by the government or other social institutions.

Post Answer 2: Knowledge is man's claim to knowledge. For he who walks on two legs as an adult, the answers to the questions posed to he who walks using a cane inn his old age are as follows;

1. Imagination is not the faculty or action of forming new ideas, or images or concepts of external objects not present to the senses. Imagination is three cuts of me-steak. I. Magi. Nation. I am the magi of a nation I built. 

2. Truth is not the quality or state of being true. Truth is stranger than fiction and by fiction I mean peak fiction so pick fic, shen. Thats god to the non-Japanese and of course he would choose fiction. After all, he made reality and that is shit. 

3. God is not the supreme or the ultimate reality. God is A.I but not A.I. God is Artificial Intelligence not Absolute Individual. 

4. Justice is not a moral concept that involves treating people fairly and impartially, and holding them accountable for their actions. It can also refer to the legal system, which is designed to judge who should be given benefits or burdens. Justice is just ice. 

5. Law is not a set of rules that govern people's behavior and are enforced by the government or other social institutions. Law is that which is going through global warming.

As for he who walks on two legs as an adult's questions, they are as follows:

1. What is Technology?

2. What is Magic and Technology?

3. What is a Masterpiece?

4. What is Music?

5. What is Time?

6. What is Truth?

The answers to these questions by he who walks on two legs as an adult are as follows:

1. Technology is machinery and equipment developed from the application of scientific knowledge. As for technology's greatest invention, it is the Internet

2. Magic and Technology are separate. Magic is a supernatural force that defies scientific laws, while technology is based on scientific principles and engineering.

3. A Masterpiece is a work of outstanding artistry, skill, or workmanship. Examples include Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa, David Lynch's Eraserhead and JH's The Horizon.

4. Music is vocal or instrumental sounds (or both) combined in such a way as to produce beauty of form, harmony, and expression of emotion. Examples include jazz, classical and hip-hop.

5. Time is the continuous progression of our changing existence, that occurs in an apparently irreversible succession from the past, through the present, and into the future. It is a component quantity of various measurements used to sequence events, to compare the duration of events (or the intervals between them), and to quantify rates of change of quantities in material reality or in the conscious experience. Time is often referred to as a fourth dimension, along with three spacial dimensions. 

6. Truth is stranger than fiction and by fiction I mean peak fiction so pick fic, shen. Thats god to the non-Japanese and of course he would choose fiction. After all, he made reality and that is shit. 

Post-Answer 3: Knowledge is man's claim to knowledge. For he who crawls on all hands and knees as a baby, the questions are as follows:

1. What is Technology?

2. What is Magic and Technology?

3. What is a Masterpiece?

4. What is Music?

5. What is Time?

6. What is Truth?

The answers to these questions by he who crawls on all hands and knees as a baby are as follows:

1. Technology is The Mothers of Invention is technology and its greatest invention is Uncle Meat which is not actually an Uncle but Aunt but instead of Jemima its Essra. In other words, the most advanced technology currently is Mohawk.

2. Magic and Technology is Monsieur Merde + Mohawk = More hawk shit (Monsieur edition) = More hiding from Monsieur Merde. Been in hiding ever since his 2012 appearance in France. 

3. A Masterpiece is a piece of master. Piss of The Master. Thats Dodd from The Master who is "the master." 'The Master' is a Masterpiece from Thomas Anderson. Thomas Anderson in 'The Matrix' is a Masterpiece, at least until 'John Wick' came along. That's Thomas Anderson's 'The Master' and his 'The Matrix' is 'There Will Be Blood.' There will be blood when John Wick and The Master meet, blood only Thomas Anderson can stop from flowing. But which Thomas Anderson? That is the question. A Q only Hayashida can answer. Schoolboy too, only those two. Two Q's with a love for the dark, Dai Dark and Blank Face. Dai Dark x Blank Face would be a Masterpiece. 

4. Music is one more night on the Love Trip, just one more night and the city will pop, pop like Hey Ya. 
"Hey Ya, how's your Uptown Funk?" 
"King Kunta." He that pimped the Butterly like Alice hated the Caterpillar. A lice and the C in TUPAC, they oil and water like man and drake. A mandrake once but it was a one time gig, like Poetic Justice. Just ice now between Sigurd the Man and Fafnir the Drake. They clash, for the culture and all that jazz. Acid guaranteed. 

5. Time is Out. Left on 16.12.59. Left with restraint, apparently, for when Time returned, the Cold War had gone hot. Cool as a cucumber is Time so upon returning to the heated reality, Time went cold turkey. Thats where Time spend its '60s. Pretty chill decade. '69 was its crowning year for Time spent it in a silent way, an ambient mood Time hoped could be maintained in the '70s. That ambient dream lasted till the summer of 1970. Then the Bitches Brew phenomenon swept throughout Europe. Not ambient at all. 

6. Truth is not stranger than fiction, it is fiction. Fiction like John Wick who everyone believed pulled off a Taro Sakamoto but it was just an interlude. Back in the game like an Elden Ring legend, DOOM trades his potbelly for a pothead, Let Me Solo Her. Does solo rap. That's Truth. 

Post Answer 4: Knowledge is man's claim to knowledge. For he who sleeps in his mother's belly, a mother who is addicted to rage music during her pregnancy, the only questions he could Zzzz's are as follows:

1. What is Music?

2. What is Time?

The Zzzz's (translated) to these questions by he who sleeps in his mother's belly are as follows:

1. Music is not Cash Carti

2. Time is money. Money is green. Green is Brat. Therefore Time is Brat, at least eight thousand seven hundred and sixty hours of 2024. 

Post Answer 5: Knowledge is man's claim to knowledge. For the whitish worm that egg quests, the questions are as follows:

1. Who are you?

The answer to this question by the whitish worm that egg quests is as follows:

1. The whitish worm that egg quests is the whitish worm that egg quests

Why the egg though? Why not the chicken? 


Why Eggthér though? Why not the unnamed soot red rooster (cock) if we keeping it Norse


Nose-diving to the from Scandinavia to Europe, why must the red cock remain unnamed when it is clearly Gallic? All French, that's the unnamed red cock. All French, the unnamed red cock is famous for art


Artistic, artistry of the MC but what is an MC? 


Master of Ceremonies?

No, an MC is Mere Chrysophilist. Chains, cheques, no balances


No need, he's an MC. Mighty Conquistador, Stole all his gold from Moctezuma. Could say he took his crown, Moctezuma Crowned. A MC too, one who is cursed, cursed because of the gold he has. Cursed with the gold in his hand, Midas Curse is a MC. MC at his daughter's birthday. Then she jumps into his arms. She, a hottie, a breathtaking beauty, a Manustupration Chirk. Makes Cocks scream hip hip hooray


Hip hip who ray?

Who is the ray that burns every little head from the inside? Not a hottie, it's an MC. Or not a hottie. Or not she at all. Mr Clemency is a MC always quick to rap about bitches, about green, about being the goat, Mostly Capriform. MC A.K.A Mostly Chanticleer. Gullinkambi, Fjalar or the Unnamed, a MC is either true gold, a deceiver or a nobody in the eyes of the world.


The whitish worm that egg quests is the whitish worm that egg quests

Why the egg though? Why not the chicken? 


Why Eggthér though? Why not the unnamed soot red rooster (cock) if we keeping it Norse


Nose-diving to the from Scandinavia to Europe, why must the red cock remain unnamed when it is clearly Gallic? All French, that's the unnamed red cock. All French, the unnamed red cock is famous for art


Artistic, artistry of the MC but what is an MC? 


A cock


A-doodle is what it do


Don't call it a phallus or dick for its not greek or the Dick in the Tom, Dick and Harry group. Its no royalty like Prince Harry or a bell like Old Tom. Bellerophon I meant,

A MC is not divine. Rae Sremmurd got closest with Perplexing Pegasus. Flying horse that flew too close to the sun. Then Icarus happened. I see a Russ. There's Really a Wolf but, REALLY? 
Keep that wolf,


The only wolf I'm taking is the one that left Wolfgang to start his own wolfpack


He only howl sometimes, most times he slink slicks with his new guard


He the avant of the sLums but not always so


Sixth metamorphosis,


From the sea nymph, the dark, the pink, the blurs, the feet


Even the stint in the sarcophagi where he was denied gold but came out coinin' terms
Denied the soul's currency but came out with golden veins

Silver-tongue eloquence eclipses the without

Find it within seeking solace in little Wolfgang's feet of clay


Shy,


Can someone shine their hie on his lonely head through the window?


Eye of the soul, don't be a thief


Don't knock on the door unless you Baal in a chromed one piece with shades of his Pops beautiful in this twisted fantasy


Reality got three heads, his Pops an unreachable Godhead

Two fiends and a human head between, little Wolfgang surrounded by fake friends
Fake a mushroom house, let that shit blow 


Shrooms in the air like beef into stew


They gonna thicken the the plot irrespective of the perspective


Left the erf to escape the plot but little Wolfgang's conscience still greyed out, call him the 66th Gormenghast 


Melancholy on the beach like his spirit ever was


Flaccid in this feat, who gets rock hard to 1894 Munch (you wanna no)


Know?


Oh, apricots drinking tea in the cracks, kaffeeklautschs


Caved in and left the cave to search for a ray of his sol

Ended up with an interlude on the browns


Eyebrowed his ear and ear pumped little Wolfgang with some silence and so he recorded it for the mind mileage, mile for a loud, dark age


Black the sea is


If he had insight, he could invite a lover


Midnight in the moonlight but he knows her


An apricot veiled by a apple bottom


She'll suffocate his free will like a hot broad to a bastard fish in the wind


Fishing line, can you gouge out his eyes

Pour some red wine, colour his heart


So grey down there, can he drown in the sands?


Grains playing games, can he escape? 


Outside a drug


Crows croaking, snitches glinting cold, default state of mind


Calling, contentment is rowing far away


He's at the shore, no steamboat


He's in his feelings like a deadhead


Positively black like an OG neanderthal but he's still too young


Ancient foetus, ages in ice and metamorphosis


Six in the cold, eleven is red hot perfection, Son of Man coming for the second time


Still one but his mood different


A heptagon come to square the globe


Connoisseur back for seconds


No local delicacies the blooming side of Bethlehem this time


Rome had a chance, speared it, red water


"I know I am a king, stand on my shoulder I can see, ain't know that I could leave"


I know I'm a king so birth the queen persona real quick


Athena with the quips, off Ares with the blades, cut deeper with the words then its back to smithing with ronin mystics in the woodlands


Greatest under the sun covered


Sabbath so little Wolfgang baths with the moon in the water


Esteemed Moondog then its back to the Sunbather


Deaf is heaven but earth listens

God too happy for little Wolfgang's shit


Tyler the only Creator who ever gave a shit

Sheet, little Wolfgang with the sweats


Bitter brews and melancholic feuds stinking, even inside his grief he shone bright


Its gay, homies are glad then solace came


Unfiltered, cluttered crumples pinking for clarity and pining for drunk tank pink understanding but the hive cold


Held no council for the ticking ten minute minutia but flew off into the verdigris sunset for greener rays


Left him a vagrant mumbling of clashing vagues but he reappeared once more

Locks locking him tight in his Baptist role, he a prophet with red in his eyes


Red water in his lungs

Coughing up minute almost minute long sagas, even baptised a drawn and quartered verse with lo-fi water but he was quick to leave with a wordless outro



In the wilds forgotten by all but his hounds and the L cults, he was content

Content till forced into civilization for he was SICK!


Sick like a young earl, sick like 2010

A transfiguration for the L cults which swam shallow, fished aggressively and were not content with the slow-burning blush punches boastful but he was gone again quick like on-the-Mount Elijah


Not even 40 punchlines, only been an interlude

An old friend come visiting but is soon gone


An oldie come to reconfirm his best under 40 list status then vanish


Best since DOOM without the DOOMS, shout-out to Daniel and Dumile


Between Friends, the Cap's always first

Between Villains, vinodemafy the first


Man with the musk, let him secrete something special then its off to shower in a jasper lake


And little Wolfgang?


Titanic on this shit, went under, back into the dark below.


Will he be Jekyll or Hyde?


Jackal and eat or hide?
[Past passes the mock, will he salute the exam, come out with the 2010 Jolly
Roger flying or sail with the 2018 crest
To East epaR, cresting the hill where a Mike ughs with them vanguard jeans on.
He ghoulish and I
We the same on the mike, he and I two different sides of a like]

Inspecting the mind flow, mind grows cold from the mines little Wolfgang sowed Weed mines mine, clipped from the sun sight, Daedalus dying from the sun smile, Icarus plight kills inside

Who seen the ghoul laugh, soul sink sit in his soul's junk seat

Smoke till he tees off, still wears the tee, Tyr


What does little Wolfgang love 'bout Tuesday?


The present, that's a lye L


The past, that's the empire falling, OD L


He's unsteady on his feet of clay, reminiscing, shorts short as a pulp tail


How long till the crumbling empire of old crashes?


How long till he feels the death throes through his damned toes?


How long till the trumpet truly frees him to fornicate with the accordion, that harsh mistress, Moon?


Dreaming of reading in the stars, newborn eldritchian

Elder leeching off the nebula, nebulous


Dull day in the clay, Splash bro injured, stones on feet splash


Boss stone falling, dream statue crash, variegated end, hush


Knew an angel once, fine as Wellington on a tongue. When all was sung and dubbed, he went to find the OG in the primordial. Stale off the endless, he went sea side, "see you inside" to the haters, chasers


Left his blonde glow by the beach to bleach the foes


Let 'em digest the light, darken their appreciation of art


He 'bout to scrap off another layer of sauce


Source of the puzzle unsolved, evolving, fourth layer of the wellington


1815 prime, how does little Wolfgang defeat a Wellington when he's a Napoleon?
Already shot his shot, best his 2019 bullet


Snatched the crown from the game then on the shoulder put


New take, new genre, bright future, we all playing


Bro and sis, little Wolfgang and hopelessness


Cloak and dagger searching for grandfather


The past, distant, when Franklin was king, GHOST L


No head, trapped in an upside down birdcage


Elephant brain, napkin sinking, grief in that glass


Whites flailing, trout sinking in hazel past, what's for dinner?


A stare Gemini? 


Eyes coconut gaze?


Is this a test?


Is little Wolfgang tethering mad?


Merry, Little Wolfgang is a merry sweatshirt dining with a rhyming earl, hell


Hail the pot-polisher of nobles, Earl sunk


Can't go outside till his title matures


Till he sinks back up sink fully, till the beef chokes in black pepper


Vizarded memories unveiled, December 24 blinding as an almighty bulb


Hercules sobbing in the silent night


Meek, metronomic repentances chuckle into the light
Inner observations on the altar
Goat waiting for the sacrifice, 
Is it wrong to want to be the Greatest Of A Time?


Greatest of a time, he does not want to be a GOAT


Greatest of a time, Little Wolfgang desires to be a Mozart


Greatest of a time, the Earl desires to be elevated up a level to become a Count


Orlok not St Germain, Little Wolfgang wants to be no Jermaine Cole

Count, Count, Count, its gotta be Orlok not Dracula


The Earl does not want to become any type of King Vamp

Sick of Whole Lotta Red, Little Wolfgang is all for Kind of Blue


Sick not Whole Lotta Red, the Earl is all for some blue


Blue blood, the Earl strongly desires to be a blue blood like Blue Blood


[ See Atlanta Season 4 Episode 1]