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March 28, 2006

Lunar Retribution Will Be Swift And Calamitous

I was all ready to do a victory dance, to smirk and to act smug. To point out the superiority of my navigational skills, to heap ridicule upon the practice of turning left on an unprotected traffic light. I could feel my impending win as I slipped the vandalized Cobra into 3rd and felt the tingly sensation as the engine did its gurgly growly testosterone thing. I felt manly, firmly gripping my stick shift whilst acceleration pushed me back into the seat, throwing the stick back into 2nd gear position and delighting in the comfortable pull back from speed. I could see it happening, slipping lithely behind the car in front of me, the light would turn green and then we would speed silkily towards the parking garage.

Ten minutes and two light cycles later I was questioning the validity of my faith and certain fundamental universal truths. I should have known better than to get all uppity like that, I know that the Powers That Be will jerk me down from the high horse every time I get so bold as to ascend to that mighty saddle. As I sat there behind that pretty silver car, a Malibu, I couldn’t help but notice that the person piloting the contraption wanted to make their faith very obvious to the outside world. It made me think that this was a person committed to compassionate driving, safety was paramount in their day-to-day operation and I wanted to respect that. I really did.

My self imposed competition, that of getting to my parking space first, ahead of my diminutive Mexican girlfriend made me ponder some impending realities. Especially since I was made astutely aware that I was being forced into humility by a very God fearing individual. Because here I was and there she was, defeating me handily and not even aware of her overwhelming victory. What could it mean? Here on my own turf, were my gods loosing their power to those of a foreign land? Or could it be that the Mexican gods hold far more sway from their mountain top in central Mexico? Perhaps they are gorged on the passion of their patrons as they unite to overturn the vile wickedness of the White man’s treacherous government?

This immediately brought up bigger issues. What was all this talk of gods and parking space races? I don’t know, but it seems like the immigration policies of our great nation are all of a sudden coming quickly to a head. And past time I think, there are a lot of very hard working individuals filling pivotal jobs that all of us depend on day in and day out. They deserve to be treated fairly and to not be treated like criminals. Sure you can ballyhoo and harrumph all you like, nitpick on technicalities, but you can’t dodge the issue that the situation is what it is and needs to be dealt with carefully and with an eye towards practical problem solving.

Title stolen from Scary Go Round...again.

March 23, 2006

The Old Days of Goodness

I found this while reading SEB, it's a few pictures comparing our classic video games that we grew up with in the 80's to today's modern graphic monsters.

It’s interesting, to me anyway, to think how I used to sit in front of my Commodore 64 and then my Tandy 1000/TL2 (can’t believe I still remember the model number) dreaming about what games would look like one day. While spending countless hours of my youth playing M1 Tank Platoon, F-19 Stealth Fighter and Apache AH-64 my imagination would churn out images of picture perfect landscapes and photo realistic details. I remember watching it as it happened, as games got more and more detailed, getting so excited as we looked at screen shots in the gaming magazines.

I played a lot of “adventure” games back in the day, predominantly produced by Sierra On-Line. Starting with Leisure Suite Larry and the Land of the Lounge Lizards, then Space Quest, Police Quest and Kings Quest, where the graphics were pretty much 8-bit magic and your character was, more or less, a block with wavy lines. It’s funny how most genre’s got better and better as graphics and hardware got better, but the adventure game genre kind of petered out. There were a few valiant attempts by LucasArts to keep it alive, but even those didn’t really hold a candle to the old classics where deciphering the syntax of commands to type into the action box was as much a part of the game as solving the puzzles.

This is what getting old does to you, it makes you think back to the crappy ass things you used to do, but you can only think about how great they were.

March 21, 2006

Posting

My hunger for WoW has come back, but it still manifests itself as altaholism. I create new toons, play them until level 15-20, and then start over. I’m still refusing to push my level 55 druid to 60, I’m sure this says something about me, but it's what makes the game fun for me, so I guess there's no harm in it. In somewhat related news, I know that I don't really want to play Dungeons & Dragons Online, but every time I see the TV commercial, or a banner ad, I admit there is a certain level of salivation.

Now that the great flood of '06 is over I find that I'm beginning to feel a little puny. The urge to get sick is building and I’ve upped my intake of vitamin C in an attempt to shore up the defenses. Looking back at the weekend, I spent not an insubstantial amount of time wet, damp or somewhat moist, so it’s not too surprising that I’m feeling a little woobly. It stands to sound logic that after 9” of rain things tend to get soggy, even places that never get soggy will get soggy when so much rain falls it begins to reshape the geography of your region. Now it’s getting cold. I don’t approve at all of this turn of events. I was ready for heat and for humidity.

March 17, 2006

Nonconsensual

The terrifying screams of pain and agony, the miserable wailing that was accompanied by muffled sounds of hitting and grappling last night was me, and X2. It was the soundtrack of us being uncomfortably penetrated in sensitive areas by the Internal Revenue Service and their gang bang buddies at H & R Block. The most disappointing aspect of this whole scenario is that H&R was expected to be the cowboy that would ride in on the white horse and be wearing the white hate of goodness. Instead he was the guy that just brought home the fact that no one brought any lube.

March 16, 2006

A Razor's Edge

It came to my attention this morning that Dungeons & Dragons Online has been released and has gone live. I couldn’t help myself, I clicked on the banner ad and was instantly whisked away to marvel at the beauty of its enticements, its baubles and gaudy makeup. I’m woefully tempted, the swell of desire has not been insubstantial and if I were the kind of person to act impulsively I would already be plotting a trip to my local software reseller.

Alas, I’m not a huge fan of D&D 3.5 and view it as a kind of lowest common denominator as far as role playing systems go. It will do in a pinch, but it is far from the preferred method. Not to say I haven’t had fun playing the D&D system, but that was under the context of the Eberron setting and to get Eberron one must settle for D&D. You could argue that one could do an adaptation to a more acceptable RPG system, but then I think you would need to be asking yourself some serious questions.

DDO is based on the Eberron campaign setting and that almost seals the deal for me, but as I peruse the website I see that for now the real draw of that setting isn’t included in this release. And upon noticing that one little hole in the dyke I suddenly become so aware of how flimsy the whole structure is. With that, my dissatisfaction with D&D as a gaming system comes into the light and I see that the game would have to be impossibly amazing to allow me to bypass all its perceived shortcomings.

So, for now I’m safe.

March 15, 2006

The Dark One Is A Constant Stalker, You Have To Be Ready To Take A Few Risks

...or, Try It One More Time

Life has been feeling a little stressful lately. Dealing with the insurance for the car, contemplating the impedning taxes, mulling over solutions to the debt problem and various other responsibilities taht life as an adult seems to have saddled me with have been starting to weigh me down. It was pretty bleak there for a little bit, but slowly, ponderously I am starting to move forward bit by bit and as long as nothing new sideswipes me this charted course should lead me to safe harbor. Ahoy!

It has been mentioned that that I may need to rebuild my connection to family and I think that's sound advice, something I had been thinking of for a bit as well. Of course, this means travelling to Waco more often, but from my current location the drive isn't near as bad as it once was. I can imagine that having a traveling partner would make it much more enjoyable as well. We'll see how that shakes out.

There's something that I have been enjoying lately, almost to an unholy level. Each morning I run in the office and fire up the eMac so I can check to see if the story has been updated and it is to the point where I get quite perturbed if the website does not display a new comic. This put me to speculating about why I seem to get addicted to things from time-to-time. For reasons I don't completely understand or comprehend I'll find myself ravenously caught up in some thing or another, and such has it been with this. I'm sure this isn't for everybody, but give it a taste and see how it settles on your filthy pallet.

Achewood: The Great Oudoor Fight (3 Days * 3 Acres * 3000 Men)

Internets, we have a problem

The bloggy thing is being persnikity and not letting me get my full post out...so...yeah.

So, CiCi turned me on to this BBC website that has nifty language lessons, and so far I'm pretty impressed with little lessons. I plan on incorporating this into my regimen of Spanish practice.

March 13, 2006

What Happens in Waco...

Exciting weekend. Can I keep saying that without the phrase loosing all meaning? It was though, and it felt like a long weekend, one that didn’t rush by too quickly. The weather was nice, in that it seemed to urge us to stretch the potential of the allotted time we had, before coming back to more mundane responsibilities. I think we made good play of it, a trip to Waco, time at the lake and with that I don’t think we cheated the gift of nature that was presented. Perhaps we forced the issue a little, determined as we were. We sat by the lake, letting the wind propel leaves like bullets past our heads while we read and pondered the mystery of how those birds can sit atop those poles without falling off. Sad to say that injuries and indignities were sustained, but when you have the chance to enjoy nature, by god you take it, and damn the consequences.

Cici took the plunge, trusting my gentle enticements, and allowed me to take her to visit the family near Waco. As I sat Sunday evening, at her brother’s house, I finally grasped the concept more clearly that my family is very small compared to hers. She met a total of three relatives in our travels, really the bulk of what I consider my immediate family, while I meet at least that many different relatives of hers every time we interact with them on any given day. I’m thinking of starting a wiki. Despite all of that I think things went well, she met my grandparents, she met the dogs, the parrot, the goats, a brand new kid (baby goat), and Miss. Kitty. She met Princess, the Great Pyrenees goat dog. We both got to meet my mom’s newest addition to her brood of creatures, a very tiny Chihuahua that has been named Barley. Barley wanderd up this last week and is in process of recuperating from whatever ordeal she went through. I’m sure mother will have her fat and happy in no time.

I got a bit of a kick introducing my grandfather to her. They talked about Mexico and places that I have no idea about. They spoke briefly in Spanish. My grandfather worked with and always had Mexicans around the place when I was a kid, he speaks fairly fluent (to my ears anyway) Mexican Spanish, so I had a feeling that they’d get along pretty well. Indeed he invited her to come back in a few weeks when the Goats start kidding so she can see the babies. I’m not entirely sure I was included in that invitation.

March 08, 2006

Unwanted Stories

This is a story I wrote about three years ago. It's taken from a roleplaying encounter and told from the perspective of my character, Celithed. So click read more if you like, it's presented unedited from the day I wrote it.

The Eager Beetle

“Pox Kor, not now”, the thought blared across Cel’s focused mind. The spell slipped slightly, the Flows shuddered and waivered around him! It was coming right for him! The large beetle was lumbering towards him, its dark emerald green shell glinting in the lantern light, Cel’s reflection shining back from the polished orbs that must have been its eyes.
“I’m not ready yet!”, bile was rising in his stomach and sweat was pouring from his pores like volcanoes erupting molten lava. “Focus Cel…focus!”, his mind screamed, he was losing the spell and that couldn’t happen, he’d be defenseless. Through clenched teeth he began the casting. He hadn’t prepared long enough, the Flows poured into him almost to his limits seemingly eager to overpower him and rend his mind or worse his body to pieces.
It was never easy; casting an ice bolt was a powerful spell for Celithid and an effect that he had only recently grown confident enough to attempt with any regularity. But he had always had time to prepare himself for controlling the power that it took to release the bolt and now he was watching the ponderous bug rushing towards him.
Only the briefest of moments had passed since he had begun preparing for the spell when the beetle had turned its attention on him. Left with little choice he had begun his casting that instant, changing the phase in his mind to harness the drawn power and release it in its purposeful form. The fluxuations in the Essence Flows were fearfully evident as the first few seconds passed and Cel forced back his anxious fear in order to focus on his task. If he failed he would be even more vulnerable. The energies coursed through his body in angry torrents, applying pressure to every joint, reverberating through his head.
Every detail of the creature was evident, the huge maw dripping an ominous fluid, the translucent black-green eyes shimmering in the dancing light of the lanterns. Cel’s world flashed white as he thrust his arm forward, fingers splayed outward, his palm mere feet away from its target. A deep cold arced through his arm, the Flows surging into his body as the icy bolt manifested from his palm and flew unwavering towards the beetle.
The dull sound that emanated from the impact into the large bug’s carapace was strangely audible to Cel. His teeth clinched and eyes flashing with the power flowing through him he fought in tense determination to keep the bolt aimed.
The huge body shuddered as the magic ice drove itself into the bug’s thorax. The mandible’s flittering wildly; small rivulets of sickening green ooze sloshing onto the cave floor in a maddening pattern. With a muffled crunch the legs folded underneath, the jade-green armored exoskeleton slid backwards, yielding to the unforgiving force of the blow.
Cel’s arm shot up, recoiling to his body, the strain no longer bearable, but he had done his task properly and the hit had been solid and well placed. There were flashes of movement passing through his vision that he didn’t take time to focus on, he was out of danger and preparing for his next spell. The strain was biting at his body and throbbing in his head, but the flood of euphoria at the successful casting was more than enough to balance his mind.
A triumphant shout and then another penetrated his mind and the shadowed images of his friends told him that the fight was over. As he let his mind relax, the Flows left him, his muscles and bones feeling as if a great ocean of weight had been pulled from them. Thoughts and odd paterns swirled in his head for the slightest of instants and then the world snapped back into place.
Everyone appeared okay, which meant that no one was lying prone on the ground, so Cel marked that as a good sign. It was not difficult to loose track of what was going on as he prepared and cast spell after spell and it was almost always somewhat of a surprise to see the results of their efforts. His eyes scanned for Nara, an automatic reflex, he wasn’t sure why he always worried about her, she seemed far more able to take care of herself than he did, and indeed better than most of them. He found her looking for him and a few quick signs told him that she was okay, allowing himself a sigh of relief he walked over to the others huddled around the carcasses.
They had appeared like big green rocks at first glance, but something about them didn’t seem right and if they had learned anything it was that if something didn’t look right it probably wasn’t. He had sent his elemental orb into the room to investigate and sure enough they started to move, unfolding themselves into very large beetles. Jaen’s voice had sounded behind him as he commanded the elemental and the words Jade-back beetle had drifted past him. The creatures had appeared to sniff at the air, perhaps looking around for what had disturbed them, and Cel was hoping they hadn’t spotted the group yet. But when the pair had turned their way and with one final sniff started shambling towards them that hoped drained away.
The drawing of weapons caught his ear in the eerie silence of the passage, the clinking of chainmail mingling with the tensed whispers of his friends. He could hear Dusk telling everyone to get ready and then “Cel, can that Elemental attack?”.
Cel nodded as Dusk’s attention snapped back to the beetles.
Focusing back on his Elemental, he ordered it to attack the beetles, which were steadily closing the distance between them. The muted white orb, which had been circling near the ceiling, spiraled downward towards the large shapes on the ground and exploded in a wave of cold and shards of ethereal ice. The beetles recoiled slightly, but with only a slight pause they continued towards the party. The orb had hit off center and the blast had only grazed them. Cel had grimaced in a bit of disappointment, but there had been no time to linger as the fight started and his friends engaged the beetles.
Fortunately everything had worked out, and Cel smiled as he thought about something Jaen had spurted out. Something about if you remove the shell then you can make armor out of it…hmmm…now that could be interesting. Cel’s eyes glinted with curiosity as he awkwardly gripped his large salvaged two-handed sword eagerly.



Assimilation

“Grand adventure” would, normally, seldom be held in the same context as “hair cut”, but only because the words “Mexican Hair Salon” were not apply incorporated. When Cici said she wanted to get her hair cut I promptly asked two questions. Now? And, Where? She seemed to indicate a location with words I didn’t completely digest and vague hand gestures that indicated the place wasn’t very far away. There was something about an alternate location and a sister, but as there was rice, beans, Mexican cheese and hot green salsa to consume I think you’ll understand that I was justifiably distracted. That and I trust her. I needed my hair cut as well, it’d been four or five years since my last, and I figured any place good enough to cut her beautiful, thick black hair would be good enough for my wispy, golden tresses. Can I use tresses in a manly way?

That’s how, after dinner, I found myself at Destello’s. This is the kind of establishment that no matter how hard you try to find suitably neutral, politically correct or racially sensitive words to describe it you will invariably find yourself forced to use the words: “holy shit” and “Mexican”. I would try to paint you a picture using words if only the vibrant color scheme of red, purple, yellow and orange hadn’t completely obliterated my ability to conceptualize art in any meaningful way. It is a party for the eyes, let me tell you, and I couldn’t help but feel a little festive. Especially with the, and I wouldn’t say blasting, but loud, Mexican music thumping with authority through every molecule of the salon’s atmosphere. Once you mix in the not overly concealed homosexual Mexican hair stylists I began to realize that this would be an experience long remembered.

The end summation of the experience was that I left only a little dizzy, and pleasantly surprised. I only needed to be trimmed up a few inches and I was relieved to see the level of attention and care they stylist took in making sure everything would be even. He was also very considerate as to the length being removed, snipping off a sample and showing it to me for approval before proceeding. I could tell when he reached a decision making point because he would turn to yell across the room to CiCi in Spanish, then I would have to strain my ear to here her translate the question. This added a little to the suspense. Being a cheap whore at heart I was thrilled by the price, only $10, but as an extra special bonus Cici treated. Grand adventure it was, there’s no denying it, and a completely enjoyable one at that. How often can you say that about going to get your hair cut?

March 06, 2006

Long Story Short

We went to the North Texas Irish Festival and it was greatness. After some initial worries about the event being a total bomb it picked up with gusto. Predominantly our early issues had to do with waiting in lines, long lines. Lines to get into Fair Park, lines to get the tickets to get into the Festival, standing in line to get to the ATM, standing in line to get frickin' coupons so as to buy sustinance...and beer. So early on we were not having a good time. Once we settled in with a plate of Haggis, a grilled chicken salad thing (read Taco Salad) and suitably armed with a plastic container of Guinness we got to actually listen to some music. Then we got into the groove of the event and ended up being completely entertained.

As is typical with these types of things we took it up the pooper as in paying mightily for the privelage of being there, and at risk of taking the metaphor to far we did walk back to the car that night hobbling a little. But it was a good hobble, the hobble of the strangely satisfied, that's how it happens sometimes. The whole thing seems a bit blurry now, but I know it involved me buying my Utilitkilt, the original in black, with the exciting addition of getting to drop my pants in the exhibition hall to get fitted. I should have charged admission, but few outside of my girlfriend seemed impressed. I did wear it the rest of the weekend. I would have worn it today at work had I thought I could get away with it. I heart it.

I know I've been accused of mentioning that I'm dating a Mexican a bit too often, but I have to point out that I found some level of amusement in exposing her to my, perhaps adopted, culture. She took it all in stride and I'm pretty sure she had a good time, and if she didn't she allowed me to enjoy myself and that's no small thing.

March 02, 2006

Happy Lament Texas Independence Day

On this date in 1836 the glorious despicable Republic of Texas declared its independence, unjustly, from the vile beautiful and peace loving Empire of Mexico. With wise treacherous and illustrious forked-tongue leaders, such as Sam Houston and Stephen F. Austin, the racially superior land grubbing Anglos fought back against the oppressive benevolent and tyrannical enlightened rule of Mexico. Four days later the megalomaniacal reluctant and repentant Santa Anna butchered was sadly forced to attack 183 defenders after they bravely failed to see reason and blocked the path of his invading liberating army at the Alamo. On April 21, 1836 the brilliant tactician drunken and strategist blundering General Sam Houston out witted stumbled upon the offensive overly trusting and well loved General Santa Anna at San Jacinto, capturing or killing his entire 1,600 man force, in a cowardly attack, while loosing only 9 stalwart unthankful and turncoat Texians. This victory would, falsely, seal independence for the glorious blasphemous Republic of Texas and later allow the fledgling illegally formed country to join with the great belligerent United States of America.

Truly this is a day to celebrate mourn and plot revenge!

Heh, almost forgot. I’m dating a Mexican.

March 01, 2006

Más o menos

As is so often the case, I find my own stupid answers to my own stupid questions. Though as I type that I can’t really say that my principle question has been answered, however this story may shed a little light, or something, on the situation.

¿De que color son tus calzones?

So what the fuck is up with this sudden infatuation with freakin’ Chuck Norris? I encountered it the other day whilst running around Azeroth (WoW). Another random player was making statements in general chat, or maybe jokes, that would be randomly sprinkled with “Chuck Norris”. And you could have put any phrase in this fellow’s comments, such as “Anal Penetration” or “Free Kittens”, and it would have made the same amount of nonsense. I would have thought nothing of this, just put the player’s name in the ignore list and go on with life, until I saw another player shout something to the effect of “Oh God, not another Chuck Norris freak!”

Now I was perplexed, nay intrigued, this would seem to indicate that this was not an isolated incident, but that it was either a budding or already established phenomenon. Now I’m no stranger to Internet fads, they seem to come and go about as quickly as something that comes and goes quickly a lot. But I usually feel like I can at least see where they came from or at least a hint, maybe I’m setting myself up here to look like an old, noob, chucklehead or something. Chuck Norris? I got nothing against him, but this really seems to come out of nowhere. I wasn’t that concerned about it until I ran across a t-shirt page that was selling ONLY Chuck Norris t-shirts, which fortunately I can’t find again.

So I don’t know. I don’t understand anymore, I wash my hands of the whole sordid affair.

Oh, I also learned that if you copy and paste something spanish into Word 2003 it auto switches the language.