I love you. I'll be back soon. I promise.
Love,
Me.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
And many happy returns
O blog, I hath abandoned thee! Or so it would seem. College, summer...other things have taken sad priority. But I am back for the moment, and I shall post again, having broken that terrible bout of Writer's Block. One of my favorite parts of college is Writers Group, which meets once a week here, during which we write, critique and write some more. At last week's episode our prompt was "The Existential Crises of Kings and Queens" and so I drew up a list...because I am a nerd.
1. No matter what King Conute says, waves JUST KEEP COMING IN.
2. Royal Shiatzu does not seem to understand Divine Right of Kings.
3. George I gets so wrapped up in things that he all together forgets the reason for all those taxes.
4. Queen Elizabeth I's infamous "Why can't I find a man!?" tirade.
5. Mary, Queen of Scots feels like she's "losing her head."
6. Edward the I just doesn't understand that Scotland still isn't his.
7. Edward II realizes that Daddy never loved him.
8. Henry V forgets what he was saying about St. Crispin's somethin; curls up into fetal position and cries.
9. King Lear.
10. Robert the Bruce's next animal metaphor is eaten before his eyes.
11. Upon reading about himself in the tabloids, Charles Edward Stuart stomps his feet and yells "I'm not a pretender, I'm NOT!"
12. Henry VIII wonders if it is he, not his wives, who have son-production problems.
13. Elvis is replaced by the Beatles.
1. No matter what King Conute says, waves JUST KEEP COMING IN.
2. Royal Shiatzu does not seem to understand Divine Right of Kings.
3. George I gets so wrapped up in things that he all together forgets the reason for all those taxes.
4. Queen Elizabeth I's infamous "Why can't I find a man!?" tirade.
5. Mary, Queen of Scots feels like she's "losing her head."
6. Edward the I just doesn't understand that Scotland still isn't his.
7. Edward II realizes that Daddy never loved him.
8. Henry V forgets what he was saying about St. Crispin's somethin; curls up into fetal position and cries.
9. King Lear.
10. Robert the Bruce's next animal metaphor is eaten before his eyes.
11. Upon reading about himself in the tabloids, Charles Edward Stuart stomps his feet and yells "I'm not a pretender, I'm NOT!"
12. Henry VIII wonders if it is he, not his wives, who have son-production problems.
13. Elvis is replaced by the Beatles.
Thursday, July 01, 2010
Writer's Block.
Not just the regular kind of writer's block either, where I can't think up plot points or how to develop a fictional character. No, this is full-on, beat-your-head-against-the-wall complete and total ending of all creative circuts. This is bothersome. I can't even write a blog post satisfactorily. DAMN YOU, BRAIN!
Thursday, May 27, 2010
The Happy Place.
http://www.happyplacegarden.com
Seriously, people? You're building a garden in the shape of a heart with a smiley face, so that middleschoolers won't be sad anymore? Wonderful. How's about we erect a big soccer field to end war, or maybe a library to stop world hunger? That's going to solve everything. Because we couldn't put the several thousand dollars it is taking to build that thing toward something useful, like, say, Haiti, no, our sad little kids are a much bigger problem. The more we coddle them the stronger they will become, and if we designate a certain plot of land "happy" then, well, it just has to be happy all the time, right? Through the power of love and cheap heart-shaped symbols and handprints we cane make everything better. Good people, I have a choice finger for you. Guess which one it is.
Seriously, people? You're building a garden in the shape of a heart with a smiley face, so that middleschoolers won't be sad anymore? Wonderful. How's about we erect a big soccer field to end war, or maybe a library to stop world hunger? That's going to solve everything. Because we couldn't put the several thousand dollars it is taking to build that thing toward something useful, like, say, Haiti, no, our sad little kids are a much bigger problem. The more we coddle them the stronger they will become, and if we designate a certain plot of land "happy" then, well, it just has to be happy all the time, right? Through the power of love and cheap heart-shaped symbols and handprints we cane make everything better. Good people, I have a choice finger for you. Guess which one it is.
Monday, April 05, 2010
The Badass Chronicles, Addendum.
These were brought to my attention by Mr. Benjamin S. and I thank him heartily for them. The following article appeared in the latest addition of Mental Floss Magazine, and was written by Erik Sass (hats off to him) and since I'm too lazy to rewrite anything, I'm just going to cut and paste. Anyway, I figured these men deserve their mention in my little corner of the InterWebz, and since we all--well, most of us--know how much I enjoy a good con story or game of run-away-from-the-cops, I just couldn't help but post it.
1. How to Become the Subject of a Country Ballad
Christopher Daniel Gay is nicknamed Little Houdini for a reason: The 5’5” Tennessee native knows how to make 18-wheelers and construction equipment vanish into thin air. More impressively, he knows how to perform such disappearing acts in police custody. But Gay is more than just a master thief and escape artist; he’s also a loving son.
In 2005, Gay broke out of a Nashville jail to visit his ailing father. Two years later, he fled from the authorities to see his dying mother. This time, Gay was being transported to a jail in Alabama for stealing an RV. Somehow, he freed himself from a full set of shackles (on his hands, feet, and waist!) and gave two policemen the slip at a South Carolina rest stop. He then stole a pickup truck, drove 300 miles, hot-wired an 18-wheeler, and drove another 100 miles to a town just north of Nashville. The police were hot on his trail, but Gay refused to pull over until he reached his mother’s house, where he drove the big rig onto her front lawn and fled into the woods. But the story doesn’t end there. Gay then headed to Nashville and stole country singer Crystal Gayle’s tour bus. He drove the bus to a NASCAR race in Lakeland, Florida, where he told the track manager that he was there to pick up Tony Stewart, the legendary race car driver. When authorities became suspicious, Gay abandoned the tour bus and fled. The details of the escapade are immortalized in Tim O’Brien’s 2007 hit country song “The Ballad of Christopher Daniel Gay.” Last February, Gay was arrested once again in Florida. But he escaped as police were transporting him back to Tennessee. Despite locking down the surrounding area and searching for Gay with helicopters and bloodhounds, Little Houdini worked his magic on a big rig and took flight yet again.Gay and his 18-wheeler were finally apprehended on March 16, 2008, near a Wal-Mart in Lakeland, Florida. A spokeswoman for the Polk County sheriff’s department told journalists, “He is being treated as an escape risk.” You can say that again.
2. Skydiving for Cash
On November 24, 1971, a man calling himself Dan Cooper boarded Northwest Orient Flight 305 from Portland to Seattle, carrying only a briefcase. Once in the air, he handed the stewardess a note. When she ignored the gesture, Cooper politely redrew her attention to the message. This time, she realized how serious the situation was. The note said that Cooper had a bomb in his briefcase, and that he planned on setting it off unless he received $200,000 cash and some parachutes upon landing in Seattle. After having his demands met, Cooper redirected the plane to Mexico. He also gave the pilot instructions to maintain a speed of less than 150 knots and an altitude of less than 10,000 feet, and to keep the flaps set at 15 degrees. All of this kept the plane moving slowly enough for Cooper to make a dramatic exit. With cash in hand and a parachute on his back, Cooper jumped out of the plane somewhere over the Washington-Oregon border. To this day, Cooper’s whereabouts are unknown. Authorities maintain that he probably died while leaping from the plane, but there’s evidence to suggest otherwise. In 1978, hikers in Oregon (near the area where Cooper had jumped) found instructions for descending the rear stairwell of a Boeing 727. And in 1981, an 8-year-old boy discovered $5,880 that turned out to be part of Cooper’s ransom money. Neither discovery is conclusive proof, but there is one more piece of evidence: In 1997, the FBI opened a posthumous investigation into Duane Weber, an antiques dealer in Florida who made a deathbed admission that he was Dan Cooper. It turns out that Weber had a criminal record, serving six prison terms for burglary and forgery, and that he’d received military training during WWII, which included skydiving.
3. Thinking Inside the Box
On March 29, 1849, a 33-year-old Virginia slave known as Henry “Box” Brown earned his middle name by mailing himself to freedom. At the time, Brown was heartbroken. His wife of 18 years and their three children had been taken away from him and sold to a slave owner in North Carolina. With little to lose, Brown convinced a white shopkeeper to seal him in a box that measured roughly 3 ft. x 2 ft. x 2 ft. and mail the package to an abolitionist in Philadelphia. The journey lasted 27 hours, and although the container was marked “This side up with care,” handlers largely ignored the instructions. The box moved from wagon to railroad to steamboat to wagon to railroad to ferry to railroad and then to wagon again—all the way to Philadelphia. Incredibly, all that jostling had little effect on Brown’s manners. When abolitionists pried open the delivery and Brown emerged from the box, his first words were allegedly, “How do you do, gentlemen?”
4. Geronimo’s Magic
If Dan Cooper had yelled “Geronimo!” when he jumped from that plane in 1971, it would have been appropriate, as the Apache renegade was a great escape artist in his own right. In 1851, after Mexican soldiers killed his mother, one of his wives, and his three children, Geronimo went on a rampage. The 22-year-old Indian warrior quickly became legendary for his fearless method of attack. He would appear out of nowhere—wielding only a knife—and run head-first through gunfire to stab his enemies. Seemingly impervious to bullets, Geronimo killed hundreds of troops and settlers across northern Mexico and the American Southwest.
After five years of guerrilla warfare, some 10,000 U.S. and Mexican troops began pursuing Geronimo. And yet, he still managed to evade them with his near-supernatural ability to vanish into the terrain. Indeed, the Apache believed he had special powers—walking without leaving tracks, reading minds, and moving objects with his thoughts. In fact, legend has it that Geronimo once led his band of Apaches into a cave in the Robledo Mountains of New Mexico. The American army was at his heels, and as soon as Geronimo entered the cave, troops fanned out and blocked the only other exit. They thought they had him cornered. But a few days later, Geronimo and his followers appeared miles away from the cave. Hundreds of historians, geologists, and archaeologists have since combed the site to figure out how Geronimo made his incredible escape, but to this day, experts are baffled.
5. Winston Churchill’s Prison Break
In 1899, Great Britain found itself in South Africa warring with the Boers—South Africans of Dutch descent. One of the British journalists covering the war was an adventurous 24-year-old named Winston Churchill, who loved combat so much that he became a war correspondent after his discharge from the army. On November 15, the Boers captured Churchill and threw him into a POW camp in Pretoria. Immediately, he began closely monitoring the guards and realized that there was a gap in their routine when no one was watching the 10-ft. wall surrounding his building. So, Churchill decided to make a break for it. But first, he needed to settle some accounts. Being the gentleman that he was, he paid his bill with the Boer shopkeeper who’d sold him tobacco, and he wrote a note of thanks and apology to the Boer Minister of War, who’d also befriended him. Then he scaled the wall. Upon escaping, Churchill ran to a nearby villa, where he waited until he was able to hop on a passing train. For several more days, he followed the rail lines, sleeping in ditches, stealing food where he could, and fishing newspapers out of trash bins to read about the manhunt pursuing him. Six days later, Churchill made the last leg of his journey when he crept onto a train headed for the Portuguese colony at Delagoa Bay. The ride took him 250 miles east to the Mozambique coast, where he crossed the border into freedom. Churchill’s daring escape did wonders for his name. It made him a celebrity in England and helped launch his political career.
6. The Dalai Lama Makes a Break for It
In 1959, as the Chinese cracked down on Tibetan rebels, Mao Zedong set his sights on the Dalai Lama, and it became clear the young Buddhist leader was in danger. Not knowing the best time to flee, the Lama started consulting the Oracle—a fellow monk who reveals prophesies while in trance. For several days in a row, the Oracle told the Lama to stay put. But that changed on March 17. As riots busied the Chinese authorities, the Oracle suddenly insisted that the Lama get moving. Disguised as an ordinary Tibetan, the spiritual leader snuck out of the ancestral palace without alerting anyone. Once in the countryside, he met up with his family and top religious officials, and together, they headed to India through the Himalayas. It wasn’t until two days later that the Chinese government realized the Dalai Lama had flown the coop. When they figured out what had happened, they immediately closed the Tibetan border and dispatched 50,000 troops to stop the famous Buddhist. But it was no use. Many of the mountain passes were only known to Tibetan mountain guides who would rather have died than betray their spiritual leader. Meanwhile, heavy cloud cover prevented the Chinese air force from performing aerial reconnaissance. Two weeks later, after trekking through the rugged mountain range and negotiating the treacherous Brahmaputra River, the Dalai Lama surfaced at Tawang Monastery, 50 miles inside the Indian border.
7. The Cold War and the Hot Air Balloon
After watching a TV show about the history of hot air balloons, two friends living in East Germany, Hans Strelczyk and Gunter Wetzel, had a brilliant idea: What if they put their families in a hot air balloon and simply flew over the Berlin Wall? Capitalizing on Strelczyk’s skills as a mechanic and Wetzel’s as a mason, the pair built an engine out of propane gas cylinders and constructed a balloon out of taffeta. However, as the plans moved forward, Wetzel’s wife got cold feet, and the Strelczyks decided to go it alone. On July 4, 1979, the family launched the balloon from a meadow about 25 miles from Berlin. But damp conditions squelched the hot-air burner after only a few minutes. They made a hasty landing in East Germany, where the border guards spotted them. The Strelczyks managed to escape, but East Germany’s brutal secret police, the Stasi, was now wise to their plan. Terrified of being discovered, both families set to work again. The men built a bigger, sturdier burner, and the women stitched together 60 pieces of canvas and bedsheets to make the balloon. On the night of September 16, with Stasi detectives hot on their trail, the two families reached the launch site, inflated the balloon, and took to the air. Because the balloon had no basket, the two men, two women, and four children all clung to a small metal platform as the device climbed to 8,000 feet. After 30 minutes, they landed, unsure of which country they were in. They eventually spotted a police officer, who confirmed they were in West Germany. The two families became instant heroes around the world, and their balloon was seen as a symbol of freedom.
1. How to Become the Subject of a Country Ballad
Christopher Daniel Gay is nicknamed Little Houdini for a reason: The 5’5” Tennessee native knows how to make 18-wheelers and construction equipment vanish into thin air. More impressively, he knows how to perform such disappearing acts in police custody. But Gay is more than just a master thief and escape artist; he’s also a loving son.
In 2005, Gay broke out of a Nashville jail to visit his ailing father. Two years later, he fled from the authorities to see his dying mother. This time, Gay was being transported to a jail in Alabama for stealing an RV. Somehow, he freed himself from a full set of shackles (on his hands, feet, and waist!) and gave two policemen the slip at a South Carolina rest stop. He then stole a pickup truck, drove 300 miles, hot-wired an 18-wheeler, and drove another 100 miles to a town just north of Nashville. The police were hot on his trail, but Gay refused to pull over until he reached his mother’s house, where he drove the big rig onto her front lawn and fled into the woods. But the story doesn’t end there. Gay then headed to Nashville and stole country singer Crystal Gayle’s tour bus. He drove the bus to a NASCAR race in Lakeland, Florida, where he told the track manager that he was there to pick up Tony Stewart, the legendary race car driver. When authorities became suspicious, Gay abandoned the tour bus and fled. The details of the escapade are immortalized in Tim O’Brien’s 2007 hit country song “The Ballad of Christopher Daniel Gay.” Last February, Gay was arrested once again in Florida. But he escaped as police were transporting him back to Tennessee. Despite locking down the surrounding area and searching for Gay with helicopters and bloodhounds, Little Houdini worked his magic on a big rig and took flight yet again.Gay and his 18-wheeler were finally apprehended on March 16, 2008, near a Wal-Mart in Lakeland, Florida. A spokeswoman for the Polk County sheriff’s department told journalists, “He is being treated as an escape risk.” You can say that again.
2. Skydiving for Cash
On November 24, 1971, a man calling himself Dan Cooper boarded Northwest Orient Flight 305 from Portland to Seattle, carrying only a briefcase. Once in the air, he handed the stewardess a note. When she ignored the gesture, Cooper politely redrew her attention to the message. This time, she realized how serious the situation was. The note said that Cooper had a bomb in his briefcase, and that he planned on setting it off unless he received $200,000 cash and some parachutes upon landing in Seattle. After having his demands met, Cooper redirected the plane to Mexico. He also gave the pilot instructions to maintain a speed of less than 150 knots and an altitude of less than 10,000 feet, and to keep the flaps set at 15 degrees. All of this kept the plane moving slowly enough for Cooper to make a dramatic exit. With cash in hand and a parachute on his back, Cooper jumped out of the plane somewhere over the Washington-Oregon border. To this day, Cooper’s whereabouts are unknown. Authorities maintain that he probably died while leaping from the plane, but there’s evidence to suggest otherwise. In 1978, hikers in Oregon (near the area where Cooper had jumped) found instructions for descending the rear stairwell of a Boeing 727. And in 1981, an 8-year-old boy discovered $5,880 that turned out to be part of Cooper’s ransom money. Neither discovery is conclusive proof, but there is one more piece of evidence: In 1997, the FBI opened a posthumous investigation into Duane Weber, an antiques dealer in Florida who made a deathbed admission that he was Dan Cooper. It turns out that Weber had a criminal record, serving six prison terms for burglary and forgery, and that he’d received military training during WWII, which included skydiving.
3. Thinking Inside the Box
On March 29, 1849, a 33-year-old Virginia slave known as Henry “Box” Brown earned his middle name by mailing himself to freedom. At the time, Brown was heartbroken. His wife of 18 years and their three children had been taken away from him and sold to a slave owner in North Carolina. With little to lose, Brown convinced a white shopkeeper to seal him in a box that measured roughly 3 ft. x 2 ft. x 2 ft. and mail the package to an abolitionist in Philadelphia. The journey lasted 27 hours, and although the container was marked “This side up with care,” handlers largely ignored the instructions. The box moved from wagon to railroad to steamboat to wagon to railroad to ferry to railroad and then to wagon again—all the way to Philadelphia. Incredibly, all that jostling had little effect on Brown’s manners. When abolitionists pried open the delivery and Brown emerged from the box, his first words were allegedly, “How do you do, gentlemen?”
4. Geronimo’s Magic
If Dan Cooper had yelled “Geronimo!” when he jumped from that plane in 1971, it would have been appropriate, as the Apache renegade was a great escape artist in his own right. In 1851, after Mexican soldiers killed his mother, one of his wives, and his three children, Geronimo went on a rampage. The 22-year-old Indian warrior quickly became legendary for his fearless method of attack. He would appear out of nowhere—wielding only a knife—and run head-first through gunfire to stab his enemies. Seemingly impervious to bullets, Geronimo killed hundreds of troops and settlers across northern Mexico and the American Southwest.
After five years of guerrilla warfare, some 10,000 U.S. and Mexican troops began pursuing Geronimo. And yet, he still managed to evade them with his near-supernatural ability to vanish into the terrain. Indeed, the Apache believed he had special powers—walking without leaving tracks, reading minds, and moving objects with his thoughts. In fact, legend has it that Geronimo once led his band of Apaches into a cave in the Robledo Mountains of New Mexico. The American army was at his heels, and as soon as Geronimo entered the cave, troops fanned out and blocked the only other exit. They thought they had him cornered. But a few days later, Geronimo and his followers appeared miles away from the cave. Hundreds of historians, geologists, and archaeologists have since combed the site to figure out how Geronimo made his incredible escape, but to this day, experts are baffled.
5. Winston Churchill’s Prison Break
In 1899, Great Britain found itself in South Africa warring with the Boers—South Africans of Dutch descent. One of the British journalists covering the war was an adventurous 24-year-old named Winston Churchill, who loved combat so much that he became a war correspondent after his discharge from the army. On November 15, the Boers captured Churchill and threw him into a POW camp in Pretoria. Immediately, he began closely monitoring the guards and realized that there was a gap in their routine when no one was watching the 10-ft. wall surrounding his building. So, Churchill decided to make a break for it. But first, he needed to settle some accounts. Being the gentleman that he was, he paid his bill with the Boer shopkeeper who’d sold him tobacco, and he wrote a note of thanks and apology to the Boer Minister of War, who’d also befriended him. Then he scaled the wall. Upon escaping, Churchill ran to a nearby villa, where he waited until he was able to hop on a passing train. For several more days, he followed the rail lines, sleeping in ditches, stealing food where he could, and fishing newspapers out of trash bins to read about the manhunt pursuing him. Six days later, Churchill made the last leg of his journey when he crept onto a train headed for the Portuguese colony at Delagoa Bay. The ride took him 250 miles east to the Mozambique coast, where he crossed the border into freedom. Churchill’s daring escape did wonders for his name. It made him a celebrity in England and helped launch his political career.
6. The Dalai Lama Makes a Break for It
In 1959, as the Chinese cracked down on Tibetan rebels, Mao Zedong set his sights on the Dalai Lama, and it became clear the young Buddhist leader was in danger. Not knowing the best time to flee, the Lama started consulting the Oracle—a fellow monk who reveals prophesies while in trance. For several days in a row, the Oracle told the Lama to stay put. But that changed on March 17. As riots busied the Chinese authorities, the Oracle suddenly insisted that the Lama get moving. Disguised as an ordinary Tibetan, the spiritual leader snuck out of the ancestral palace without alerting anyone. Once in the countryside, he met up with his family and top religious officials, and together, they headed to India through the Himalayas. It wasn’t until two days later that the Chinese government realized the Dalai Lama had flown the coop. When they figured out what had happened, they immediately closed the Tibetan border and dispatched 50,000 troops to stop the famous Buddhist. But it was no use. Many of the mountain passes were only known to Tibetan mountain guides who would rather have died than betray their spiritual leader. Meanwhile, heavy cloud cover prevented the Chinese air force from performing aerial reconnaissance. Two weeks later, after trekking through the rugged mountain range and negotiating the treacherous Brahmaputra River, the Dalai Lama surfaced at Tawang Monastery, 50 miles inside the Indian border.
7. The Cold War and the Hot Air Balloon
After watching a TV show about the history of hot air balloons, two friends living in East Germany, Hans Strelczyk and Gunter Wetzel, had a brilliant idea: What if they put their families in a hot air balloon and simply flew over the Berlin Wall? Capitalizing on Strelczyk’s skills as a mechanic and Wetzel’s as a mason, the pair built an engine out of propane gas cylinders and constructed a balloon out of taffeta. However, as the plans moved forward, Wetzel’s wife got cold feet, and the Strelczyks decided to go it alone. On July 4, 1979, the family launched the balloon from a meadow about 25 miles from Berlin. But damp conditions squelched the hot-air burner after only a few minutes. They made a hasty landing in East Germany, where the border guards spotted them. The Strelczyks managed to escape, but East Germany’s brutal secret police, the Stasi, was now wise to their plan. Terrified of being discovered, both families set to work again. The men built a bigger, sturdier burner, and the women stitched together 60 pieces of canvas and bedsheets to make the balloon. On the night of September 16, with Stasi detectives hot on their trail, the two families reached the launch site, inflated the balloon, and took to the air. Because the balloon had no basket, the two men, two women, and four children all clung to a small metal platform as the device climbed to 8,000 feet. After 30 minutes, they landed, unsure of which country they were in. They eventually spotted a police officer, who confirmed they were in West Germany. The two families became instant heroes around the world, and their balloon was seen as a symbol of freedom.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Plastic Bags In Trees.
I hate plastic bags in trees. How the hell do they get up there anyway? If a bag is floating, it floats close to the ground, but no, when it sees a tree it just has to soar higher and higher until it can cling to the branches like a needy child. And it's never stuck on the outer branches either. No. It's always wrapped all around the trunk, which means that the stupid bag had to freaking jet-pilot itself, X-wing style, between the branches to get there.
Over the weekend I went to Minnesota (a 5 1/2 hour drive) and back, and I saw 8 of them. Last time I saw three. Do you know what that means? They're reproducing.
Don't even get me started on plastic bags on fences.
Anyway, I just thought I'd let you all know because, of course, you really need to be informed on such things. Don't even think of trying to get them down, too, because they're always way too high up, and they're probably wet and full of gunk, and will forcefully throw said gunk at you if you try to ascend. I hate those things so much.
Goddamn plastic bags in trees.
Over the weekend I went to Minnesota (a 5 1/2 hour drive) and back, and I saw 8 of them. Last time I saw three. Do you know what that means? They're reproducing.
Don't even get me started on plastic bags on fences.
Anyway, I just thought I'd let you all know because, of course, you really need to be informed on such things. Don't even think of trying to get them down, too, because they're always way too high up, and they're probably wet and full of gunk, and will forcefully throw said gunk at you if you try to ascend. I hate those things so much.
Goddamn plastic bags in trees.
Monday, March 15, 2010
It's the...
IDES OF MARCH AGAIN!
A brief history:
'The Ides of March' was made famous by Shakespeare's play, Julius Caesar. To quote Shakespeare exactly, the scene went:
SOOTHSAYER: "Caesar! Beware the ides of March!"
CAESAR: "What the hell are the ides of March?"
BRUTUS: "Well, that's the fifteenth of March."
CAESAR: "Why that's today..."
[Caesar is brutally stabbed to death in slow motion]
CAESAR: "Et tu, Brute?"
< /Caesar >
So have a nice day, and beware!
A brief history:
'The Ides of March' was made famous by Shakespeare's play, Julius Caesar. To quote Shakespeare exactly, the scene went:
SOOTHSAYER: "Caesar! Beware the ides of March!"
CAESAR: "What the hell are the ides of March?"
BRUTUS: "Well, that's the fifteenth of March."
CAESAR: "Why that's today..."
[Caesar is brutally stabbed to death in slow motion]
CAESAR: "Et tu, Brute?"
< /Caesar >
So have a nice day, and beware!
Monday, February 22, 2010
Script Frenzy 2010
I've decided to participate this year. Have I ever written a script (stage, screen, graphic, adaptation etc)? No, no I have not. I don't even know how to properly write a script, other than what I could pick up from Wikipedia. I shall, in all likelihood, fail miserably, but it's worth a shot.
I came up with the idea for the play months ago, and was really rather bothered that I couldn't abandon my NaNoWriMo project to work on it more fully; but alas, my characters would not allow it.
Now rock operas have been done and done and done to death, and they seldom get much better with each new "innovation." However I propose something entirely different, and yet very much the same: an acoustic punk musical. This is not some pansy-ass, Green Day/Blink-182 poser playboy punk kind of deal, no, this is real guts-and-glory, anarchist revolutionary, hardcore punk--using two acoustic guitars as the only instruments. I have not yet written the songs, and may use others in their place for the first draft. This will work just fine, since I know right where I will use something with the same themes of Rise Against's Drones or Thrice's Trust or Against Me's Baby I'm an Anarchist.
So. This should be interesting. We'll see how it plays out, or if, perhaps, I abandon midway through. In the meantime, I'm very excited.
I came up with the idea for the play months ago, and was really rather bothered that I couldn't abandon my NaNoWriMo project to work on it more fully; but alas, my characters would not allow it.
Now rock operas have been done and done and done to death, and they seldom get much better with each new "innovation." However I propose something entirely different, and yet very much the same: an acoustic punk musical. This is not some pansy-ass, Green Day/Blink-182 poser playboy punk kind of deal, no, this is real guts-and-glory, anarchist revolutionary, hardcore punk--using two acoustic guitars as the only instruments. I have not yet written the songs, and may use others in their place for the first draft. This will work just fine, since I know right where I will use something with the same themes of Rise Against's Drones or Thrice's Trust or Against Me's Baby I'm an Anarchist.
So. This should be interesting. We'll see how it plays out, or if, perhaps, I abandon midway through. In the meantime, I'm very excited.
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Gone but Not Forgotten
There is a reason that I have not yet posted again. Really. I have been meaning to summarize the Badass Chronicles, and could not do so until I found something, a recording. Rocco's speech from Boondock Saints II summarizes everything pretty well. (Edited for innocent-ish eyes...meaning I cut out all the unnecessary Fwords.) It is pretty much everything I wanted to say, something of a call to return to masculinity, and I think it's pretty damn badass:
Men build things, then we die. It's in our DNA! THAT'S WHAT WE DO!
And when it all falls down? we build it right back up again, but this time bigger, better. Look around you! Look what we can do. Look how beautiful we are. You think the men that built all this had it easy? They were hard men, doing hard stuff.
I am so sick of all of this self help, twelve step, leftover hippie generation bull.
Now they don't want you to do anything, right? Just sit there. Don't drink. Don't smoke. Don't drive fast.
Kiss my ass!
Screw it! Do it all I say! Do you think Duke Wayne spent all of his time talking about his feelings with a therapist? There's no way he did!
John Wayne died with five pounds of undigested red meat in his ass. Now that's a man! Real men hide their feelings. Why?
BECAUSE IT'S NONE OF YOUR F___IN' BUSINESS.
Men do not cry. Men do not pout. Men jack you in the jaw and say: "Thanks for comin' out."
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
The Badass Chronicles, Pt V (Speaking of Claymores...)
...Who else?
Braveheart, The Guardian of Scotland, The Highland Terror, the man who inspired a revolution and took back a nation, paving the way for a brief and glorious time when it was free and independent. Hollywood tried valiantly to portray him and did a decent job, mostly thanks to Mel Gibson who actually tried to understand his role. But still, Hollywood in all its special effectual glory could capture the true, sheer Chuck-Norris-like qualities of this hairy Highlander.
The story starts at William's birth in Elderslie, Scotland. His exact birth date is unknown. He was the son of Malcolm Wallace, a knight and landowner in Scotland. Malcolm had fought in many wars and taught young William about courage, respect, honesty and charity among other things. Malcolm had been a linebreaker in the Scottish army, meaning he would dress in heavy plate armor and run at sheer walls of enemy pikes, breaking the spears with a two-handed sword so that the rest of the infantry could charge without being gutted. The survival rate for linebreakers was under 10%, so Malcolm was quite a man himself. I suppose it takes someone like that to raise someone like THAT. William spent the first part of his life in relative quiet, working physical labor peacefully at his inherited farm near Elderslie.
Fairly recently Edward I had brutally overthrown Scotland's government through a combination of arms and political maneuvering (hooray for politicians), and forced every Scot to sign the 'Ragman's Roll,' a declaration of fealty to him and to the Government. Wallace refused to sign, a fact that should have come into play later.
The first account of Wallace metaphorically making large men cry took place 5 years before his open rebellion. According to Blind Harry, the first bard to put Wallace's actions into words, Wallace had been fishing along the River Irvine when a squad (six) English soldiers approached him and demanded the entire catch. Wallace offered them half. Their leader raised a steel gauntlet to strike the fisherman. Bad bloody idea. Wallace struck him with the fishingpole, then took his sword and killed the other five. When he was done, he sat back down and continued fishing. There is no record of any disciplinary actions toward Wallace, meaning he buried those bodies deep.
Something happened in May of 1297. Exactly what set Wallace off like a spark on gasoline is unclear. Most scholars think that it was either the execution of his wife, or the wife of a friend, under the orders of the local English Sheriff, a man named William Hesselrig. Every romanticist on earth loves to think that it was his wife, Marion Braidfute, and I have to say that is a lot more fun. Whatever caused it, it was bad. Very bad. After taking his father's old two-handed claymore from storage in a cottage thatch roof, he began by performing what was called 'Wallace's Larder,' in which he took the soldiers in the town of Elderslie, and, one at a time, Rambo-like, killed them silently. There were probably around a dozen of them.
Step two was simple. In the early hours of the morning Wallace scaled the walls of the English castle garrison with his bare hands and single-handedly killed every English soldier within the walls of Lanark Castle. There were probably somewhere from 20-30 armed men. He found the sheriff, the man supposed to have killed his wife/friend's wife, and put him at blade's edge. He is recorded to have said "I am Wallace, die, Hesselrig." before running him through and lobbing off his head. He then lit the castle on fire, and walked out the front gates, leaving a blood-soaked courtyard behind him.
After this came the real question: "Well, that was fun. What now?" So Wallace elected to take back his home country from the greedy imperialists' hands. Taking everyone he could to him, Wallace fled to the woods where he and his small band set up camp and began a guerrilla warfare campaign. The hit-and-run tactics of the Viet Kong, Mongols and early Picts before him served well. Wallace's band would cut a single squadron of English soldiers to pieces, disappearing into the thick Highland mist before reinforcements could arrive.
Recruits came in droves, hundreds flooding into the woods to join the man they percieved as their savior, and if ever there was a man to be idolized as a hero, it would be Wallace. Standing above 6'6" tall, broad as a barn and hairy as a goat, wielding a two-handed broadsword with one hand like a fencing foil, he was really quite imposing.
Their first real battle came at Stirling Bridge. Wallace advanced up from the south, where he met Andrew Murray, another Scottish freedom fighter, from the north. The two joined forces, creating a small but daunting army for the advancing English. Wallace was a smart man and, though not brilliant, a decent tactician. He ordered the cutting of thousands of simple pikes, long spears of twelve, fifteen feet and by destroying several bridges, forced the English to meet him on Sterling Bridge, a small but sturdy wooden bridge, wide enough for two horses to walk abreast, no more. This was a brilliant move as the English relied heavily on their cavalry, which could no longer charge.
When the two armies faced each other, however, that is exactly what Edward I tried to do. He ordered a charge of heavily armored horsemen, the backbone of the army, their tanks. Wallace's men stood several hundred feet from the bridge, their pikes on the ground.The chargers formed as best they could once across the bridge and charged the Highlanders. "Hold," Wallace yelled, keeping the men from snatching up their spears for the security of arms. The chargers grew closer, gathering more speed. "Hold!" he yelled a second time. "Hold!" he yelled once more, and when "He could see the fear in their eyes" he yelled the command to raise spears. All men reached down and held their pikes in front of them, digging in their heels and forming an impenetrable wall of steel and ashwood. The horses and men were impaled like kabobs, and the main force of the English army was desecrated. The Scottish pushed toward the bridge, cutting down what was left of the knights and riders and taking the main battle to the center of the bridge. There they were commanded to hold as the English forces charged them as best they could. The fighting was close and dirty. Pikes thrust at the English ranks from the Scottish side, and arrows whipped at the Scots from the other bank. Wallace fought in the thick of it, wielding "A sword that seemed fit for archangel, light in his terrible hand." Finally, as he had predicted, the bridge collapsed and the pikes were able to work more fully. By the end of the day the English had thoroughly sore rears.
The Scots took casualties as well, nearly a third of their forces were gone, and Andrew Murray had been killed in battle, but they had forced the English to retreat back to where they had come from, and now the job of securing borders, castles, docks, villages etc. fell to the rag-tag army.
And this is where the story turns from triumph to "tactically not-so-bright." Wallace, having reclaimed Scotland, pushed father south into England, far into England in fact, intent on besieging London, some say. The English pushed back until Wallace was backed deeper into his homeland. Wallace decided to meet them at Falkirk moor, where the English could more effectively use their heavy mounts. Two divisions of cavalry circled around the Scots, who were keeping their pikemen at the center of formation. The cavalry drove off the Scots' archers and what few horsemen they had, but could not break the spearmen. Finally the pikes were cut to ribbons by the English archers and the battle was lost.
Wallace himself retreated into the woods as he had done before, then went to France to rally support. He returned to Scotland and was betrayed by a member of his band and captured. He was transported to London, where one of the five greatest trials the world has ever seen, according to one author, was preformed. Wallace was charged with treason, along with a thousand and one other rediculous charges that only the English could trump up.
"...did burn old women inside of churches and eat children alive, did slay priests and murder infants... a runaway from righteousness, a robber, a committer of sacrilege, an arsonist and a murderer, more cruel than Herod and more debauched in his insanity than Nero".
But chief among his charges was that of treason. In reply, he said:
"I could not be a traitor to Edward, for I was never his subject." (He never signed the Ragman's Roll, and otherwise considered himself a free man) "Freedom is true, and we shall not live like slaves." And although not all of the speech survives, it is reported to have been a heartbreaking ode to freedom and the rights of men.
Freedom from the tyrannical government, the rights of men above the law...sounds almost, revolutionary, don't it?
He was executed painfully in a drawn out, public ceremony. I shall not go into detail for the sake of innocent eyes and squeamish stomachs.
And that was the end of William Wallace, and the Scottish Revolution. The end, that is, for a few years, until Robert the Bruce took up the fallen standard of Saint Andrew's Cross and freed Scotland more permanently. Scotland's fighting clans resurfaced like a swimmer emerging from suffocation water, the revolution was reborn more furious and determined than ever, pipes blaring, swords waving. Bruce drove a dying Edward I out of Scotland. Edward died gasping with his last breath that "Scotland was his" although it had just been proven that no, Scotland belonged to the Scots.
Before Bruce's greatest battle, Bannockburn, he gave no great speech, merely turned to his men and said "You bled with Wallace, now bleed with me."
Braveheart, The Guardian of Scotland, The Highland Terror, the man who inspired a revolution and took back a nation, paving the way for a brief and glorious time when it was free and independent. Hollywood tried valiantly to portray him and did a decent job, mostly thanks to Mel Gibson who actually tried to understand his role. But still, Hollywood in all its special effectual glory could capture the true, sheer Chuck-Norris-like qualities of this hairy Highlander.
The story starts at William's birth in Elderslie, Scotland. His exact birth date is unknown. He was the son of Malcolm Wallace, a knight and landowner in Scotland. Malcolm had fought in many wars and taught young William about courage, respect, honesty and charity among other things. Malcolm had been a linebreaker in the Scottish army, meaning he would dress in heavy plate armor and run at sheer walls of enemy pikes, breaking the spears with a two-handed sword so that the rest of the infantry could charge without being gutted. The survival rate for linebreakers was under 10%, so Malcolm was quite a man himself. I suppose it takes someone like that to raise someone like THAT. William spent the first part of his life in relative quiet, working physical labor peacefully at his inherited farm near Elderslie.
Fairly recently Edward I had brutally overthrown Scotland's government through a combination of arms and political maneuvering (hooray for politicians), and forced every Scot to sign the 'Ragman's Roll,' a declaration of fealty to him and to the Government. Wallace refused to sign, a fact that should have come into play later.
The first account of Wallace metaphorically making large men cry took place 5 years before his open rebellion. According to Blind Harry, the first bard to put Wallace's actions into words, Wallace had been fishing along the River Irvine when a squad (six) English soldiers approached him and demanded the entire catch. Wallace offered them half. Their leader raised a steel gauntlet to strike the fisherman. Bad bloody idea. Wallace struck him with the fishingpole, then took his sword and killed the other five. When he was done, he sat back down and continued fishing. There is no record of any disciplinary actions toward Wallace, meaning he buried those bodies deep.
Something happened in May of 1297. Exactly what set Wallace off like a spark on gasoline is unclear. Most scholars think that it was either the execution of his wife, or the wife of a friend, under the orders of the local English Sheriff, a man named William Hesselrig. Every romanticist on earth loves to think that it was his wife, Marion Braidfute, and I have to say that is a lot more fun. Whatever caused it, it was bad. Very bad. After taking his father's old two-handed claymore from storage in a cottage thatch roof, he began by performing what was called 'Wallace's Larder,' in which he took the soldiers in the town of Elderslie, and, one at a time, Rambo-like, killed them silently. There were probably around a dozen of them.
Step two was simple. In the early hours of the morning Wallace scaled the walls of the English castle garrison with his bare hands and single-handedly killed every English soldier within the walls of Lanark Castle. There were probably somewhere from 20-30 armed men. He found the sheriff, the man supposed to have killed his wife/friend's wife, and put him at blade's edge. He is recorded to have said "I am Wallace, die, Hesselrig." before running him through and lobbing off his head. He then lit the castle on fire, and walked out the front gates, leaving a blood-soaked courtyard behind him.
After this came the real question: "Well, that was fun. What now?" So Wallace elected to take back his home country from the greedy imperialists' hands. Taking everyone he could to him, Wallace fled to the woods where he and his small band set up camp and began a guerrilla warfare campaign. The hit-and-run tactics of the Viet Kong, Mongols and early Picts before him served well. Wallace's band would cut a single squadron of English soldiers to pieces, disappearing into the thick Highland mist before reinforcements could arrive.
Recruits came in droves, hundreds flooding into the woods to join the man they percieved as their savior, and if ever there was a man to be idolized as a hero, it would be Wallace. Standing above 6'6" tall, broad as a barn and hairy as a goat, wielding a two-handed broadsword with one hand like a fencing foil, he was really quite imposing.
Their first real battle came at Stirling Bridge. Wallace advanced up from the south, where he met Andrew Murray, another Scottish freedom fighter, from the north. The two joined forces, creating a small but daunting army for the advancing English. Wallace was a smart man and, though not brilliant, a decent tactician. He ordered the cutting of thousands of simple pikes, long spears of twelve, fifteen feet and by destroying several bridges, forced the English to meet him on Sterling Bridge, a small but sturdy wooden bridge, wide enough for two horses to walk abreast, no more. This was a brilliant move as the English relied heavily on their cavalry, which could no longer charge.
When the two armies faced each other, however, that is exactly what Edward I tried to do. He ordered a charge of heavily armored horsemen, the backbone of the army, their tanks. Wallace's men stood several hundred feet from the bridge, their pikes on the ground.The chargers formed as best they could once across the bridge and charged the Highlanders. "Hold," Wallace yelled, keeping the men from snatching up their spears for the security of arms. The chargers grew closer, gathering more speed. "Hold!" he yelled a second time. "Hold!" he yelled once more, and when "He could see the fear in their eyes" he yelled the command to raise spears. All men reached down and held their pikes in front of them, digging in their heels and forming an impenetrable wall of steel and ashwood. The horses and men were impaled like kabobs, and the main force of the English army was desecrated. The Scottish pushed toward the bridge, cutting down what was left of the knights and riders and taking the main battle to the center of the bridge. There they were commanded to hold as the English forces charged them as best they could. The fighting was close and dirty. Pikes thrust at the English ranks from the Scottish side, and arrows whipped at the Scots from the other bank. Wallace fought in the thick of it, wielding "A sword that seemed fit for archangel, light in his terrible hand." Finally, as he had predicted, the bridge collapsed and the pikes were able to work more fully. By the end of the day the English had thoroughly sore rears.
The Scots took casualties as well, nearly a third of their forces were gone, and Andrew Murray had been killed in battle, but they had forced the English to retreat back to where they had come from, and now the job of securing borders, castles, docks, villages etc. fell to the rag-tag army.
And this is where the story turns from triumph to "tactically not-so-bright." Wallace, having reclaimed Scotland, pushed father south into England, far into England in fact, intent on besieging London, some say. The English pushed back until Wallace was backed deeper into his homeland. Wallace decided to meet them at Falkirk moor, where the English could more effectively use their heavy mounts. Two divisions of cavalry circled around the Scots, who were keeping their pikemen at the center of formation. The cavalry drove off the Scots' archers and what few horsemen they had, but could not break the spearmen. Finally the pikes were cut to ribbons by the English archers and the battle was lost.
Wallace himself retreated into the woods as he had done before, then went to France to rally support. He returned to Scotland and was betrayed by a member of his band and captured. He was transported to London, where one of the five greatest trials the world has ever seen, according to one author, was preformed. Wallace was charged with treason, along with a thousand and one other rediculous charges that only the English could trump up.
"...did burn old women inside of churches and eat children alive, did slay priests and murder infants... a runaway from righteousness, a robber, a committer of sacrilege, an arsonist and a murderer, more cruel than Herod and more debauched in his insanity than Nero".
But chief among his charges was that of treason. In reply, he said:
"I could not be a traitor to Edward, for I was never his subject." (He never signed the Ragman's Roll, and otherwise considered himself a free man) "Freedom is true, and we shall not live like slaves." And although not all of the speech survives, it is reported to have been a heartbreaking ode to freedom and the rights of men.
Freedom from the tyrannical government, the rights of men above the law...sounds almost, revolutionary, don't it?
He was executed painfully in a drawn out, public ceremony. I shall not go into detail for the sake of innocent eyes and squeamish stomachs.
And that was the end of William Wallace, and the Scottish Revolution. The end, that is, for a few years, until Robert the Bruce took up the fallen standard of Saint Andrew's Cross and freed Scotland more permanently. Scotland's fighting clans resurfaced like a swimmer emerging from suffocation water, the revolution was reborn more furious and determined than ever, pipes blaring, swords waving. Bruce drove a dying Edward I out of Scotland. Edward died gasping with his last breath that "Scotland was his" although it had just been proven that no, Scotland belonged to the Scots.
Before Bruce's greatest battle, Bannockburn, he gave no great speech, merely turned to his men and said "You bled with Wallace, now bleed with me."
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
The Badass Chronicles, Pt. IV
Jack. Freaking. Churchill.
You know those men, too numerous to mention, who did things like take on an entire platoon of Germans in WWII and come out alive? All the Inglorious Basterds of the Second World War? There are so many, and all of them so heroic that I had a very hard time deciding which to mention and which to leave to their glory elsewhere...until I found this man.
This is Lieutenant Colonel John Malcolm Thorpe Fleming Churchill. He fought in World War II as an officer, but here's what sets him apart from the rest: he did it with a sword and bow and arrows. Not just any sword, not some pansy-ass rapier or a skinny little marine saber, no, a Scottish Claymore, a HUGE sword, capable of cleaving a man in half with ease. He once said "Any officer who goes into action without his sword is improperly dressed."
He joined the army as a young man, after which he resumed a civilian career. He took up bagpipes, and his skills with pipes and bow earned him a role in The Thief of Baghdad, an important and historical silent film. At the beginning of WWII Churchill joined the army again, signing up for a commando unit, not because he knew anything about it but because it "sounded dangerous." Score one for mindless ballishness. In May of 1940, Churchill and his regiment ambushed a German patrol at l'Epinette, France, where Churchill signaled the beginning of the attack by putting an arrow through the neck of the German officer.
In 1941 Churchill helped spearhead the Operation Archery (ironically named) raid, which began with a smaller-scale, D-Day-like landing. Churchill was the first out of his craft, playing "The March of the Cameron Men," a foot-stomping battle-tune, on bagpipes as he leaped from the boat. He then threw a grenade, drew his sword and charged the beach.
Soon after he went, claymore at his side, bagpipes under his arm and bow on his back, with two commando units to capture an enemy observation post/POW camp. He did this handily, infiltrating the town, cutting down resistance and returning with 42 prisoners, who were forced to carry the wounded back down the mountain. For that he received the Distinguished Service Order.
In '44 he led a party to support the resistance/partisan fighters in Yugoslavia, and after that he went to the German island of Brač, where he organized a motley army of partisans, commandos and resistance fighters into an attack on a German post. The landing went unopposed, but the partisans came under heavy fire soon inland and decided to deffer the attack to the next day. When the next day rolled around, Churchill led his squad of commandos into battle for a flanking maneuver, but the partisans never showed. Only Churchill and half a dozen others were left alive to reach the objective. Everyone in the squad that was not Jack Churchill was then killed by a mortar shell. He played "Will Ye Nay Come Back Again?" on pipes as the Germans advanced. He was knocked unconscious by grenades (Nobody wanted to get near him or that sword) and captured.
He was hauled to a concentration camp and interrogated, but would say nothing but name, rank, serial number. Churchill and an RAF officer crawled under the wire late one night and escaped. They were captured again near the coast and sent to another camp. Churchill didn't like that one either, so he left again. By the time he met up with an American regiment the war was over, which, it is reported, rather disappointed Churchill. He was the only recorded soldier in the war to have killed an enemy with a sword or bow.
He retired from the army in 1959, with the Military Cross and Bar and two awards of the Distinguished Service Order. He died in Surrey in 1996.
(Jack Churchill, far right, sword drawn, leads his men from the front)
You know those men, too numerous to mention, who did things like take on an entire platoon of Germans in WWII and come out alive? All the Inglorious Basterds of the Second World War? There are so many, and all of them so heroic that I had a very hard time deciding which to mention and which to leave to their glory elsewhere...until I found this man.
This is Lieutenant Colonel John Malcolm Thorpe Fleming Churchill. He fought in World War II as an officer, but here's what sets him apart from the rest: he did it with a sword and bow and arrows. Not just any sword, not some pansy-ass rapier or a skinny little marine saber, no, a Scottish Claymore, a HUGE sword, capable of cleaving a man in half with ease. He once said "Any officer who goes into action without his sword is improperly dressed."
He joined the army as a young man, after which he resumed a civilian career. He took up bagpipes, and his skills with pipes and bow earned him a role in The Thief of Baghdad, an important and historical silent film. At the beginning of WWII Churchill joined the army again, signing up for a commando unit, not because he knew anything about it but because it "sounded dangerous." Score one for mindless ballishness. In May of 1940, Churchill and his regiment ambushed a German patrol at l'Epinette, France, where Churchill signaled the beginning of the attack by putting an arrow through the neck of the German officer.
In 1941 Churchill helped spearhead the Operation Archery (ironically named) raid, which began with a smaller-scale, D-Day-like landing. Churchill was the first out of his craft, playing "The March of the Cameron Men," a foot-stomping battle-tune, on bagpipes as he leaped from the boat. He then threw a grenade, drew his sword and charged the beach.
Soon after he went, claymore at his side, bagpipes under his arm and bow on his back, with two commando units to capture an enemy observation post/POW camp. He did this handily, infiltrating the town, cutting down resistance and returning with 42 prisoners, who were forced to carry the wounded back down the mountain. For that he received the Distinguished Service Order.
In '44 he led a party to support the resistance/partisan fighters in Yugoslavia, and after that he went to the German island of Brač, where he organized a motley army of partisans, commandos and resistance fighters into an attack on a German post. The landing went unopposed, but the partisans came under heavy fire soon inland and decided to deffer the attack to the next day. When the next day rolled around, Churchill led his squad of commandos into battle for a flanking maneuver, but the partisans never showed. Only Churchill and half a dozen others were left alive to reach the objective. Everyone in the squad that was not Jack Churchill was then killed by a mortar shell. He played "Will Ye Nay Come Back Again?" on pipes as the Germans advanced. He was knocked unconscious by grenades (Nobody wanted to get near him or that sword) and captured.
He was hauled to a concentration camp and interrogated, but would say nothing but name, rank, serial number. Churchill and an RAF officer crawled under the wire late one night and escaped. They were captured again near the coast and sent to another camp. Churchill didn't like that one either, so he left again. By the time he met up with an American regiment the war was over, which, it is reported, rather disappointed Churchill. He was the only recorded soldier in the war to have killed an enemy with a sword or bow.
He retired from the army in 1959, with the Military Cross and Bar and two awards of the Distinguished Service Order. He died in Surrey in 1996.
(Jack Churchill, far right, sword drawn, leads his men from the front)
Friday, December 11, 2009
The Badass Chronicles Pt. III
Next is a man who is, strangely enough, still alive: Ben Malisow. Two years ago I was browsing through a bookstore, nothing uncommon, when I turned a corner and was stared in the face by a short, thick, yellow book, entitled "1001 Things to do if You Dare." I smiled and paged through it. It made my day, simply knowing that such a book existed, and so I bought it. I have since strived to complete ten things in the three to five (fairly dangerous to ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND dangerous) skull rating area (the dangerousness/stupidity of a certain act is rated from one to five skulls, one skull is something like playing hackey sack, five skulls is something like going into an African war zone. Or spending a winter in Wisconsin. Seriously).
After I had throughly read through the book I looked at the back for the "about the author" section, which I always like to read. Needless to say, I had already gained some idea of just what kind of a fellow would research and DO some of these things, but when I read the "about the author" I was blown away by sheer manly prowess.
It read thusly:
"On a $20 bet, the author jumped out a second-story high school window when he was seventeen. He tore some cartilage in his left knee. Unfortunately, he did not learn from the financial disparity of this experience and has since done a bunch of silly things. He's flown a glider and a Cessna; rappelled down a cliff face and out of a hovering helicopter; driven a race car; dumped a motorcycle; nearly drowned while trying to learn to surf (ditto water-skiing); went scuba-diving off the Great Barrier Reef; slalomed double black diamond runs in the Rocky Mountains; rafted class IV rapids and canoed class III; gone the distance in numerous boxing matches and other martial arts events (and lost just as many times); run with a herd of bulls at the request of his crazed editor; fired the small-arms inventory of the combined NATO and former Warsaw Pact; visited brothels on five continents; eaten a variety of bizarre things (including rattlesnake, horseflesh and something that was still moving); supplied security services to the FBI, Department of Defense, and Department of Homeland Security; worked as an undercover investigative journalist; served as a military officer on classified counter-drug operations; and maintained a long-term relationship with a redhead. He admits he might be stupid."
Now something I would like to point out here. Unlike everyone previously stated in this list, and unlike everyone to come, this man is not a hero. At least I'm not sure. From what I could find of him he served in the Air Force and as you saw ran some operations for the military, but since it is unclear what he did in those operations, I hesitate to put him, entirely, in the same class as the rest. But one thing the certainly can be said: he is fully, totally and completely a badass. I think, in fact, if you look up "The Man" in the dictionary, you may just find a picture of him.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
The Badass Chronicles, Pt. II
Next in the Ultimate Man Who Does Not Flinch When Someone Yells "Punchbuggy" Contest is Charles Lightoller. Not a toughguy like The White Death, or many of the others on this list, no, Lightoller was something entirely different. He was a quiet, reserved type, but he had something that many did not: simply chivalry and self-sacrifice.
An hour before the Titanic struck the iceberg, Lightoller had gone to bed and was lying in his cabin. When he felt the collision he ran to the deck dressed only in his pajamas. After being reassured that nothing was wrong, he went back downstairs to his cabin. When he was summoned back to the deck he pulled on trousers, a sweater and his officer's coat and hat. Once on deck he immediately began assisting with the lifeboats, strictly enforcing the "Women and children first" rule. At one point a group of men began muscling their way into a lifeboat, shoving women and children to the side as they attempted to save themselves. Infuriated, Lightoller drew his officer's pistol, which he had unloaded earlier, and roared "Get out you damned cowards, I'll see you all overboard!"
After the second lifeboat had been filled and deposited safely on the ocean, Lightoller ran to the officers' quarters to retrieve a collapsible lifeboat, but as he emerged a wave reared above the boat and he knew that he could do nothing more, so as his naval training demanded he dived overboard. When he resurfaced he saw the ship's crow's nest, but unlike others who swam toward it he swam away, knowing that it was best to get away from the sinking ship. He yelled to others but they could not or did not want to hear him. When the ship's forward ventilator collapsed Lightoller was sucked under again, this time resurfacing and, noticing a lifeboat, called out to it. The boat picked him up and he led it to safety, coaching the men through a deadly squall. Without him the first lifeboat would not have made it, and the second would be filled with cowards that the world never should have seen.
At the beginning of World War One, Lightoller reenlisted in the navy. There he fought many battles on the sea, including one against a freaking Zeppelin. For that he was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross. When he gained command of his own ship he proved himself further, fighting an out-gunned battle against a German boat, which he rammed and sunk. A bar was added to his medal, and he finished out the war as a Lieutenant-Commander in the Royal Navy. He worked unofficially in World War Two, running one of the "little ships" during the Dunkirk evacuation, an extremely risky mission. He died December 8th, 1952 at the age of 78. Having often said that he "Never should have lived so long."
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
The Badass Chronicles, Pt. I
So I've decided to throw out some real role models, the kind boys (and girls of a certain temperament) could stand to learn from and aspire to. These are real men. The kind that make Rambo, John Wayne and Jack Bauer look like crossdressing pansies. Because "Men do not cry, men do not pout, men do not whine. Men do not share their feelings. Why? because it's none of your ____ing business!" as Rocco has taught us.
Part I
The White Death.
Once upon a time in occupied Finland...kind of. November 1939 Soviet forces invaded Finland, meeting harsh resistance, because, as we all know, the Fins are tough old buggers who DO NOT LIKE THINGS TO CHANGE. One of these was named Simo Häyhä. Häyhä had served his mandatory year in the military long ago and was at the time working as a farmer, but the Russians kind of pissed him off, invading his country and all. So he took to the place he knew: the woods. Now these are not your standard American walk-in-the-park kind of woods, these are Finnish Death Trap woods. -20 to -40, on a decent day, treacherous, labyrinthlike. All in all a very fun place.
He began his work very simply. Using an ironsighted (no scope) rifle and an old light machinegun, Häyhä began picking off Russian troops one at a time, dressed all in white camouflage. His tactics were simple: sit in a tree, pick out a creep and shoot him from impossible distances. He made quick work of the Russian forces that were sent.
After a couple weeks of Häyhä killing everything in an enemy uniform The Russian army finally sent a special detachment to kill him specifically. Häyhä killed them all in one day. They sent countersnipers, equipped with better camouflage and zoom-scoped rifles, state of the art equipment. Häyhä killed them all as well. He soon earned the nickname "The White Death" among the Soviet forces.
It wasn't long before command started getting very frustrated with this freaking Fin that would not die, and soon they sent in planes to carpet bomb all the areas where Häyhä might be hiding. He sustained a cut to his jacket from this. In under a hundred days the White Death had killed 705 men, 542 with his rifle and 163 with a light machinegun. Some sources put the numbers higher, but those are the official stats recorded by the Reds.
Finally Häyhä was shot in the head with an FMJ, or Dum-dum, a bullet designed to explode heads. It did just that, blowing half of Häyhä's head off. The White Death had finally been stopped...for about two weeks, when he regained consciousness. Haha Reds, haha.
Part I
The White Death.
Once upon a time in occupied Finland...kind of. November 1939 Soviet forces invaded Finland, meeting harsh resistance, because, as we all know, the Fins are tough old buggers who DO NOT LIKE THINGS TO CHANGE. One of these was named Simo Häyhä. Häyhä had served his mandatory year in the military long ago and was at the time working as a farmer, but the Russians kind of pissed him off, invading his country and all. So he took to the place he knew: the woods. Now these are not your standard American walk-in-the-park kind of woods, these are Finnish Death Trap woods. -20 to -40, on a decent day, treacherous, labyrinthlike. All in all a very fun place.
He began his work very simply. Using an ironsighted (no scope) rifle and an old light machinegun, Häyhä began picking off Russian troops one at a time, dressed all in white camouflage. His tactics were simple: sit in a tree, pick out a creep and shoot him from impossible distances. He made quick work of the Russian forces that were sent.
After a couple weeks of Häyhä killing everything in an enemy uniform The Russian army finally sent a special detachment to kill him specifically. Häyhä killed them all in one day. They sent countersnipers, equipped with better camouflage and zoom-scoped rifles, state of the art equipment. Häyhä killed them all as well. He soon earned the nickname "The White Death" among the Soviet forces.
It wasn't long before command started getting very frustrated with this freaking Fin that would not die, and soon they sent in planes to carpet bomb all the areas where Häyhä might be hiding. He sustained a cut to his jacket from this. In under a hundred days the White Death had killed 705 men, 542 with his rifle and 163 with a light machinegun. Some sources put the numbers higher, but those are the official stats recorded by the Reds.
Finally Häyhä was shot in the head with an FMJ, or Dum-dum, a bullet designed to explode heads. It did just that, blowing half of Häyhä's head off. The White Death had finally been stopped...for about two weeks, when he regained consciousness. Haha Reds, haha.
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
The Saints Are Coming.
For those of you who do not know, I am entirely obsessed with the movie Boondock Saints, in all it's brilliant Irish kickassness. So when I heard that after ten years Troy Duffy was coming out with a sequel to the curse-filled, gratuitously violent '99 vigilante cult film I had two simultaneous reactions:
1. "Oh God, they'll kill it."
2. "YEAH!! THAT'S RIGHT! WOOOOO!!!!"
So I was pretty anxious to see what they did to it. On Sunday The Goatish Brother and I went to the 9:50 a.m. showing, because we're just that nerdy. I almost cried coming out. It was beautiful. A different movie to be sure, but not in a bad way. It was shot differently (except for some reference shots) the cursing was different, the gunfights were different. But the characters were the same, and that's the amazing, and brilliant part of the movies. Rocco was back (briefly in one of the GREATEST SCENES EVER FILMED BY MAN) being his none-too-bright self, the brothers were exactly the same, having aged slightly, Il Duce, D-D-D-D-Doc, Greenley, Duffy, all of them, along with some fresh faces. The humor was fantastic, the exact same style of the humor in the original, and I think this one may actually be funnier. That night I went to the 9:50 p.m. showing, and it was just as good. I plan on going this weekend as well.
So, in closing: SEE IT.
1. "Oh God, they'll kill it."
2. "YEAH!! THAT'S RIGHT! WOOOOO!!!!"
So I was pretty anxious to see what they did to it. On Sunday The Goatish Brother and I went to the 9:50 a.m. showing, because we're just that nerdy. I almost cried coming out. It was beautiful. A different movie to be sure, but not in a bad way. It was shot differently (except for some reference shots) the cursing was different, the gunfights were different. But the characters were the same, and that's the amazing, and brilliant part of the movies. Rocco was back (briefly in one of the GREATEST SCENES EVER FILMED BY MAN) being his none-too-bright self, the brothers were exactly the same, having aged slightly, Il Duce, D-D-D-D-Doc, Greenley, Duffy, all of them, along with some fresh faces. The humor was fantastic, the exact same style of the humor in the original, and I think this one may actually be funnier. That night I went to the 9:50 p.m. showing, and it was just as good. I plan on going this weekend as well.
So, in closing: SEE IT.
Monday, November 30, 2009
This is just to say
I have done
your mom
who was in
the bedroom
and which
you were probably
saving
for later
Forgive me
she was delicious
so sweet
and so cold
Because William Carlos Williams is an idiot, and my friend and I had way too much time on our hands.
your mom
who was in
the bedroom
and which
you were probably
saving
for later
Forgive me
she was delicious
so sweet
and so cold
Because William Carlos Williams is an idiot, and my friend and I had way too much time on our hands.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
R.I.P. First Amendment.
Personally my favorite part is where the cops gang beat the slight little manchild and the petite little girl.
This makes me sick. Were these people rioting? Were they causing panic? Inciting violence? Destroying property? No. They were assembling peaceably. They say that in Amerika we have freedom of opinion, freedom to express opinion, that we have the power to change our government, that the government is run for the people, not for profit. Lies.
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
So, in mockery of The Edward...
I decided to impersonate him. you can't see it here, but my arms sparkle, I had an apple and a Pea Jacket as well. I am told it was all too convincing.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Okay, Twilight fans.
Stop trying to justify yourselves.
I mean, with the first book, an argument could be made, maybe. If it weren't for the fact that she spends the first 400ish pages talking about NOTHING and the plot takes 7/8ths of the book to make an appearance it would be a decent book. If only...
My true complaint comes in another form, however.
Edward Cullen is stealing all our women.
This is bothersome, for, as Martin Luther said "Man cannot do without woman." And not just that, our women are letting him!
Try telling a Twilight fan that Edward sets an unreasonable standard. Just try it! They don't seem to believe it, no matter how long you waterboard them. In fact, they seem to think that it should be easy as pie (wait, maybe cake...) for any guy at all to be Edward Cullen and compete with his sparkling preppiness. I'll let you all in on a little secret *secretive whisper* we can't do that like Jayne said: "There ain't people like that. There's only people like me."*
There are a hundred and one other defenses I've heard too. "We don't like Edward, we like the image of Edward."
Wanna unpack that one for me honey?
"Every girl looks at Edward and sees the boy she likes, so really it ends up helping you guys..."
Okay, i call BS. They are not thinking of any mortal, human person. Mortal, human people don't sparkle. Also, most don't have crooked smiles, and when they do, they are fixed by braces. Very few of us are "Seraphim-like" either (that term was used three times through the first book. Yes. I counted.) We are, in fact, human. Sucks, don't it?
A friend of mine once threw glitter on himself as a joke to his girlfriend who had said something along the lines of "Why can't you be more like Edward?"
For the moment let us entirely ignore how asinine that statement is.
Well, she did not take this very well. He dared to mock The Edward. In fact, they broke up a couple months later. I laughed.**
So anyway, Twilight fans, can we keep the stupidity to a minimum? Yeah, that would be nice. Thanks. Not that you'll do it. God, I hate Edward Cullen.
Little sparkling asshole.
*point of fact, Jayne also said "I'll show you right well I got man parts." So perhaps he is not the best source to quote.
**One problem with his plan was that glitter does not come off easily. In fact, it takes a lot of scrubbing, and it still won't come off for a week. So he had to go to school sparkling.
I mean, with the first book, an argument could be made, maybe. If it weren't for the fact that she spends the first 400ish pages talking about NOTHING and the plot takes 7/8ths of the book to make an appearance it would be a decent book. If only...
My true complaint comes in another form, however.
Edward Cullen is stealing all our women.
This is bothersome, for, as Martin Luther said "Man cannot do without woman." And not just that, our women are letting him!
Try telling a Twilight fan that Edward sets an unreasonable standard. Just try it! They don't seem to believe it, no matter how long you waterboard them. In fact, they seem to think that it should be easy as pie (wait, maybe cake...) for any guy at all to be Edward Cullen and compete with his sparkling preppiness. I'll let you all in on a little secret *secretive whisper* we can't do that like Jayne said: "There ain't people like that. There's only people like me."*
There are a hundred and one other defenses I've heard too. "We don't like Edward, we like the image of Edward."
Wanna unpack that one for me honey?
"Every girl looks at Edward and sees the boy she likes, so really it ends up helping you guys..."
Okay, i call BS. They are not thinking of any mortal, human person. Mortal, human people don't sparkle. Also, most don't have crooked smiles, and when they do, they are fixed by braces. Very few of us are "Seraphim-like" either (that term was used three times through the first book. Yes. I counted.) We are, in fact, human. Sucks, don't it?
A friend of mine once threw glitter on himself as a joke to his girlfriend who had said something along the lines of "Why can't you be more like Edward?"
For the moment let us entirely ignore how asinine that statement is.
Well, she did not take this very well. He dared to mock The Edward. In fact, they broke up a couple months later. I laughed.**
So anyway, Twilight fans, can we keep the stupidity to a minimum? Yeah, that would be nice. Thanks. Not that you'll do it. God, I hate Edward Cullen.
Little sparkling asshole.
*point of fact, Jayne also said "I'll show you right well I got man parts." So perhaps he is not the best source to quote.
**One problem with his plan was that glitter does not come off easily. In fact, it takes a lot of scrubbing, and it still won't come off for a week. So he had to go to school sparkling.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
CSI: Sheboygan
A classy bunch.
my personal favorite quote of all time: "You can't arrest me as I am going to be naked now"
my personal favorite quote of all time: "You can't arrest me as I am going to be naked now"
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