This is not one post.
So, I hear Terri Shiavo is dead. I'm glad. That poor woman has been laying in that hospital bed for 15 years now, with her brian sloshing around inside her skull. That's no way to live, and her family was extremely selfish to want her kept alive in that state.
Yesterday at work, I had a conversation with a guy named Kim. To earn money on the side, he's a pornographer. (So when he says "shoot" he means, "photograph".) Here, paraphrased, is how the conversation went.
Kim: Hey, Tony, can I borrow your crescent wrench again?
Tony: Ah, you fucking Frenchmen.
Kim: Yeah, just like Daniel here. Danielle.
Daniel: I'm not French.
Kim: Oh, no, I guess not. Hebrew, I guess, right? Like in the Bible.
Daniel: Yup. Daniel in the lion's den.
Kim: Yeah, I read about that in the Bible.
Daniel: You read the Bible?
Kim: Oh yeah. I go to church, like, three or four times a week.
Daniel: Bullshit.
Kim: No, I'm serious.
Daniel: Whatever.
Kim: Hey, God doesn't say it's wrong to shoot naked girls.
Daniel: Yeah, I'm sure he'd approve. *Walks away, shaking head*
So yeah, he's a winner, alright.
It's sad when a new squeegee on my floor scrubbing machine is all it takes to make my day.
Queensugar, I really envy your up-and-coming career. When I grow up, I want to be an airplane. But after that, I want to do what you're doing. Except I'd do it with a penis, not breasts.
A new chapter has been added to my battle with Winnipeg Hydro. A quick recap: after recieving a regular bill of approximately $20 - $30, I was stunned to see my bill for one month suddenly top $84. About two weeks later, I recieved another bill, this one corrected to read $26. Next bill: $134. What the balls? So I went to Hydro, bitched at them, paid $40 for what I thought was the whole thing, and went home. Next bill: $134-$40=$94+overdue penalties+another month's Hydro=over $200 dollars for what should be almost ten times less. Well, I had already spoken with them, so I was prepared to wait until they shut off my power. Anywho, I got another bill in the mail yesterday, and it read: "Previous balance has been cancelled. GST adjusted. Current amount due for past three months: $44." Needless to say, I pumped my fist a lot, and entitled this new chapter in my battle with Winnipeg Hydro, 'I Win.'
Thomax sent me .
Gentlemen,
I have received a cry for help from the frozen lands to the north. Though stricken with duties elsewhere during our most recent sortie, the maverick forces to the north have called out to us.
Word has reached my ear that his need is great. It is apparent that "Ryan" does indeed have other allies; yet like his own their forces these are largely untrained in war craft, and the great generals among them are few.
I can only imagine the force which must be massing upon his doorstep for the north to reach out to such distant members of an untried alliance. The rumours in such cold lands tell of great bears without colour in their hide; if he faces such challenges every day then his true enemies can only be
the most ferocious, their lords the most fearsome we have seen. It has been said that they leave no trace, that they fade into the snowcovered fields as a shadow into night. Their strike could come at any location his force is centred: with this in mind I have offered the shelter of the Cobourg in High Kildonan. However to date I have received no reply.
Details at this juncture are scarce, to say the least one may. However, I feel that I can offer hope of victory with this knowledge: the wise scholars in the Hand of Writ have discerned from precedent that the movements of the enemy are married to those of the stars. It is now evident that the next and greatest assault will be made not on this good Friday, but upon the Friday to come.
My Lords, I feel that I must be clear regarding the nature of my intent. I have indeed pledged the Fell Hand to fight for the northerlings' cause. It is strong in my heart that new allies must be sought, and trained to war craft. In these days of question few things are certain. For a time the far-riding scouts of the Reaching Hand would report that the appearance of the grass and flowers would signal a time of peace; that the roving barbarians we have faced this winter would subside. However the most recent words to return to High Kildonan are of grave warning, and indeed the number of reports has fallen swiftly. One riderless horse was found running wild and could not be reclaimed. However an unsealed report bearing our mark - and bearing also the author's blood - was found which read thus: "The breaking of summer brings only the eye of the storm! The enemy has massed unheard-of, unthought-of numbers for his return! I saw th-"
Fear grips my soul as the evidence increases. Come the summer, when once I hoped our burden would lighten, it may instead proliferate beyond our worst nightmares. It seems to my eye that we must do all that we can to indebt our far neighbours. Even if they are willing, without our help they may be too weakened to assist us, and without our training they might prove more liability than asset.
Therefore I urge your swift response to battle's clarion call. Graemalgon, Reubium, I am aware that the machines of your war craft are not presently prepared for the harsh climates to the north. Unless by some miracle unlooked-for they are repaired, they cannot possibly enter into this fight.
Yet, like the mysterious "Daniel" I know that your knowledge and leadership will be invaluable to us, and if one of us should fall astride the charge you would be ready to take up that one's flag.
If the hammerstroke falls on the Cobourg, or perhaps even if it is fought first elsewhere, the Pool of Turbulence and Warmth may be of use to those with the proper attire. Packed potato rations and bevies of drink as always are welcome, though the bulk of our victuals Kildonan will likely provide.
Boxes of X will almost certainly be present as well, for those with the inclination to use such tools in war.
I will make known the lay of the land as soon as may be; I felt strongly that the lords of the south would prefer to hear the call earlier rather than later. Should any questions arise of relevance to the coming day, all wisdom and knowledge I shall bequeath to those who seek it.
Go in peace, brothers in war.
~ Thoragulus of the Fell Hand
.
Greetings, Thoragulus of the Fell Hand.
I bear tidings from Fròr Spadewright.
His lordship has harkened unto thine call. Three days nigh thine clarion beseechment reached my lord's reveared ears. Three days has it taken his humble servant to traverse these cold plains to bring you this message: Fròr shall fight by your side!
Though our forces be frought with injuries (ranging from the most grevious bodily trauma to the deepest, darkest warping of the mind; both afflictions no less grave than the other) his lordship shall send all available forces to you in due haste.
Fortune smiles upon you, Thoragulus. Had your entreaty reached our camp but one day later, naught could be sent save our deepest regrets. The stars may marry the march of the horde to the escape of the cry of battle from their throats, but also do they align themselves to the Cause. Whatever demon-infested hell-spawn of which these creatures of filth and disease have been wraught shall be stomped into the ground and squashed like insurgents!!
His lordship understands that numbers will not be a factor upon which we have the luxury to rely in the forthcoming battle. Word has reached me that Matthaeus BronzeMane, Commander of the Phoenix Legions is being held captive. T'was indeed the cavernous halls of the Castle of Murk and Umbrage, and their twisted keeper, malignant and nefarious!, that has ensnared (and, loath as I am to utter it, enslaved) that warrior, whose armour shone brightest, whose war cry rang loudest, whose steel cut deepest. (The lone shaman in our camp has been incurring the spirits of all who may be able to lend assistance in his recovery; we are reassured that his freedom shall be bought, but mayhap not in time for this battle. Never fear, Thoragulus; he shall again ride into battle!) It was also a wound cutting right to the quick to hear of the fate of Graemalagon the Naturalist-Alchemist. Similar destinies to that of Matthaeus have taken Graemalagon from us. However, as word reached this camp of his position, and its unfortunate turn of fortune for us, lo! along with that message came a ray of hope. Nay, the brave and true Graemalagon will not be able to join our foray into the gaping maw of evil; he will instead be ensnared, though under his own power and will, in the Central Tower of Lore, poring over reams and reams, sheafs and sheafs of documents, spells, rites, incantations, curses, hexes, and enchantments, all in the name of the triumph of Good over Evil.
Though his lordship has oft searched the orb of foresight on the fortunes of Reubium, The Cutter, General of the Seventh Order of Holy Knights, as well as Dafit, Bone-Crusher of Ontar, their futures lay shrouded in mists and veils unnatural.
Indeed, his lordship had almost despaired in his search for Natianius SilverHammer when out of the unholy aperture shone the sun off his famed and feared sledge. In a vision, his lordship saw Natianius ride up to the very portcullis protecting the gate unto the northern realm of Cobourg, High Kildonan, and, raising that fabled Hammer, rending that barrier which allowed the evil in. In doing so, lord Natianius assisted in the banishment of evil from High Kildonan for ever, and was praised in the house of his ancestors for generations immemorial.
It has already been said, and so shall it be reiterated: you shall have the uncanny strangth, valour, and stamina in Fròr Spadewright as you ride into battle, nay, War! Look for his Standard to be unfurled as the sun decends into the plains. And be sure to have not soaked the fields with so much blood that there is none left for his lordship to spill.
I am but a humble servant, a messenger. I offer you what services I may in the days to follow, until the arrival of his lordship.
Yours in Peace
Yours in War
Fròr Spadewright.
We're fucking awesome.
Yesterday at work, I had a conversation with a guy named Kim. To earn money on the side, he's a pornographer. (So when he says "shoot" he means, "photograph".) Here, paraphrased, is how the conversation went.
Kim: Hey, Tony, can I borrow your crescent wrench again?
Tony: Ah, you fucking Frenchmen.
Kim: Yeah, just like Daniel here. Danielle.
Daniel: I'm not French.
Kim: Oh, no, I guess not. Hebrew, I guess, right? Like in the Bible.
Daniel: Yup. Daniel in the lion's den.
Kim: Yeah, I read about that in the Bible.
Daniel: You read the Bible?
Kim: Oh yeah. I go to church, like, three or four times a week.
Daniel: Bullshit.
Kim: No, I'm serious.
Daniel: Whatever.
Kim: Hey, God doesn't say it's wrong to shoot naked girls.
Daniel: Yeah, I'm sure he'd approve. *Walks away, shaking head*
So yeah, he's a winner, alright.
It's sad when a new squeegee on my floor scrubbing machine is all it takes to make my day.
Queensugar, I really envy your up-and-coming career. When I grow up, I want to be an airplane. But after that, I want to do what you're doing. Except I'd do it with a penis, not breasts.
A new chapter has been added to my battle with Winnipeg Hydro. A quick recap: after recieving a regular bill of approximately $20 - $30, I was stunned to see my bill for one month suddenly top $84. About two weeks later, I recieved another bill, this one corrected to read $26. Next bill: $134. What the balls? So I went to Hydro, bitched at them, paid $40 for what I thought was the whole thing, and went home. Next bill: $134-$40=$94+overdue penalties+another month's Hydro=over $200 dollars for what should be almost ten times less. Well, I had already spoken with them, so I was prepared to wait until they shut off my power. Anywho, I got another bill in the mail yesterday, and it read: "Previous balance has been cancelled. GST adjusted. Current amount due for past three months: $44." Needless to say, I pumped my fist a lot, and entitled this new chapter in my battle with Winnipeg Hydro, 'I Win.'
Thomax sent me .
Gentlemen,
I have received a cry for help from the frozen lands to the north. Though stricken with duties elsewhere during our most recent sortie, the maverick forces to the north have called out to us.
Word has reached my ear that his need is great. It is apparent that "Ryan" does indeed have other allies; yet like his own their forces these are largely untrained in war craft, and the great generals among them are few.
I can only imagine the force which must be massing upon his doorstep for the north to reach out to such distant members of an untried alliance. The rumours in such cold lands tell of great bears without colour in their hide; if he faces such challenges every day then his true enemies can only be
the most ferocious, their lords the most fearsome we have seen. It has been said that they leave no trace, that they fade into the snowcovered fields as a shadow into night. Their strike could come at any location his force is centred: with this in mind I have offered the shelter of the Cobourg in High Kildonan. However to date I have received no reply.
Details at this juncture are scarce, to say the least one may. However, I feel that I can offer hope of victory with this knowledge: the wise scholars in the Hand of Writ have discerned from precedent that the movements of the enemy are married to those of the stars. It is now evident that the next and greatest assault will be made not on this good Friday, but upon the Friday to come.
My Lords, I feel that I must be clear regarding the nature of my intent. I have indeed pledged the Fell Hand to fight for the northerlings' cause. It is strong in my heart that new allies must be sought, and trained to war craft. In these days of question few things are certain. For a time the far-riding scouts of the Reaching Hand would report that the appearance of the grass and flowers would signal a time of peace; that the roving barbarians we have faced this winter would subside. However the most recent words to return to High Kildonan are of grave warning, and indeed the number of reports has fallen swiftly. One riderless horse was found running wild and could not be reclaimed. However an unsealed report bearing our mark - and bearing also the author's blood - was found which read thus: "The breaking of summer brings only the eye of the storm! The enemy has massed unheard-of, unthought-of numbers for his return! I saw th-"
Fear grips my soul as the evidence increases. Come the summer, when once I hoped our burden would lighten, it may instead proliferate beyond our worst nightmares. It seems to my eye that we must do all that we can to indebt our far neighbours. Even if they are willing, without our help they may be too weakened to assist us, and without our training they might prove more liability than asset.
Therefore I urge your swift response to battle's clarion call. Graemalgon, Reubium, I am aware that the machines of your war craft are not presently prepared for the harsh climates to the north. Unless by some miracle unlooked-for they are repaired, they cannot possibly enter into this fight.
Yet, like the mysterious "Daniel" I know that your knowledge and leadership will be invaluable to us, and if one of us should fall astride the charge you would be ready to take up that one's flag.
If the hammerstroke falls on the Cobourg, or perhaps even if it is fought first elsewhere, the Pool of Turbulence and Warmth may be of use to those with the proper attire. Packed potato rations and bevies of drink as always are welcome, though the bulk of our victuals Kildonan will likely provide.
Boxes of X will almost certainly be present as well, for those with the inclination to use such tools in war.
I will make known the lay of the land as soon as may be; I felt strongly that the lords of the south would prefer to hear the call earlier rather than later. Should any questions arise of relevance to the coming day, all wisdom and knowledge I shall bequeath to those who seek it.
Go in peace, brothers in war.
~ Thoragulus of the Fell Hand
.
Greetings, Thoragulus of the Fell Hand.
I bear tidings from Fròr Spadewright.
His lordship has harkened unto thine call. Three days nigh thine clarion beseechment reached my lord's reveared ears. Three days has it taken his humble servant to traverse these cold plains to bring you this message: Fròr shall fight by your side!
Though our forces be frought with injuries (ranging from the most grevious bodily trauma to the deepest, darkest warping of the mind; both afflictions no less grave than the other) his lordship shall send all available forces to you in due haste.
Fortune smiles upon you, Thoragulus. Had your entreaty reached our camp but one day later, naught could be sent save our deepest regrets. The stars may marry the march of the horde to the escape of the cry of battle from their throats, but also do they align themselves to the Cause. Whatever demon-infested hell-spawn of which these creatures of filth and disease have been wraught shall be stomped into the ground and squashed like insurgents!!
His lordship understands that numbers will not be a factor upon which we have the luxury to rely in the forthcoming battle. Word has reached me that Matthaeus BronzeMane, Commander of the Phoenix Legions is being held captive. T'was indeed the cavernous halls of the Castle of Murk and Umbrage, and their twisted keeper, malignant and nefarious!, that has ensnared (and, loath as I am to utter it, enslaved) that warrior, whose armour shone brightest, whose war cry rang loudest, whose steel cut deepest. (The lone shaman in our camp has been incurring the spirits of all who may be able to lend assistance in his recovery; we are reassured that his freedom shall be bought, but mayhap not in time for this battle. Never fear, Thoragulus; he shall again ride into battle!) It was also a wound cutting right to the quick to hear of the fate of Graemalagon the Naturalist-Alchemist. Similar destinies to that of Matthaeus have taken Graemalagon from us. However, as word reached this camp of his position, and its unfortunate turn of fortune for us, lo! along with that message came a ray of hope. Nay, the brave and true Graemalagon will not be able to join our foray into the gaping maw of evil; he will instead be ensnared, though under his own power and will, in the Central Tower of Lore, poring over reams and reams, sheafs and sheafs of documents, spells, rites, incantations, curses, hexes, and enchantments, all in the name of the triumph of Good over Evil.
Though his lordship has oft searched the orb of foresight on the fortunes of Reubium, The Cutter, General of the Seventh Order of Holy Knights, as well as Dafit, Bone-Crusher of Ontar, their futures lay shrouded in mists and veils unnatural.
Indeed, his lordship had almost despaired in his search for Natianius SilverHammer when out of the unholy aperture shone the sun off his famed and feared sledge. In a vision, his lordship saw Natianius ride up to the very portcullis protecting the gate unto the northern realm of Cobourg, High Kildonan, and, raising that fabled Hammer, rending that barrier which allowed the evil in. In doing so, lord Natianius assisted in the banishment of evil from High Kildonan for ever, and was praised in the house of his ancestors for generations immemorial.
It has already been said, and so shall it be reiterated: you shall have the uncanny strangth, valour, and stamina in Fròr Spadewright as you ride into battle, nay, War! Look for his Standard to be unfurled as the sun decends into the plains. And be sure to have not soaked the fields with so much blood that there is none left for his lordship to spill.
I am but a humble servant, a messenger. I offer you what services I may in the days to follow, until the arrival of his lordship.
Yours in Peace
Yours in War
Fròr Spadewright.
We're fucking awesome.