One for the records, even for my weird dreams. Zombies, Man eating Dolphins, I am both myself and a blonde girl. My dreams always have a certain level of "rules". For example, I might be on Earth in the Renaissance; in which case the basic laws of physics all apply, even if there is magic and we have dragons. Or I am in space on an FTL cruiser, so outside without a suit = dead, and a zero-G zone on the ship means we are in zero gravity, and things behave accordingly. I might be able to fly, but there are always limits of some sort. I can't fly supersonic, or out of the atmosphere, or I can only fly if one or more conditions apply, like I have to jump hard; and it might also have to be dark. Or I can only fly for short distances, like 100 yards at time.
Or else I am in "wherever", a place that may or may not be earth-like, and anything goes. Even there the "rules" remain constant. If I can fly, I can always fly. If ghosts can walk through walls but I can't, I can't ever walk through a wall. Other things can be wildly variable. I am not always me; I'm not always in First Person mode. I'm not always male. I can be female, a film or TV character, and watching from a spectator POV. Or once in a while, I body hop; I am always "me" then, but my persona can hop from person to person within the dream, changing POV each time.
This dream falls into the "wherever" category. The place is earthlike, has gravity and air, and transportation and tech are all modern day. We also have zombies, man eating land based dolphins who can swim through the ground and through floors, but rather like they are swimming through molasses; and a few women have "abilities" that both attract the dolphins as well as slowing and to a degree controlling them. We have to travel from place to place in cars, trucks etc, but we cannot stay outside for long periods, especially at night, because something will happen to us; and inside buildings is where the zombies and dolphins can hunt us. We seem to have no weapons such as guns or flamethrowers, though we can use bats and edged weapons. I am part of a group of three people; a woman I don't actually know who is brunette, me as myself, and also me as a blonde woman, also not a person I actually know.
It's after dark, and we are racing to find shelter for the night. I (from now on "I" is always me ion the woman's body, and "Scott" is me in my own body... make sense? Good. Explain it to me later) am not just looking for any old place; I know that a friend, Heidi Levin, is in a local hotel taking shelter, and that she is in trouble there. Heidi and I both have an ability to slow and control the man-eating dolphins, an essentially psychic power that lets us impose our will for short periods, but requires touch to initiate. Heidi is with another woman like me, and possibly one or two men.
Our van, which Scott is driving, swings around a corner and we have to swerve wildly, because there is a wreck directly in our path. Whatever danger haunts the night has upended a motor home, and is wreaking havoc inside it. We veer over the edge of an embankment and find ourselves careening down a hill ( went lucid here. the van doesn't crash, though it takes damage and can't move any further). Surprise, there is a Mustang Blackjack conveniently close by with a full tank and keys in the ignition. time to go! We race off from the now alerted dangerous thing, leaving it far behind. The powerful Pony, which Scott is driving, easily climbing back up to the street and tearing off.
Scott suddenly hits the brakes again and makes a hard right turn, tires screeching but holding on to the road. He has seen or sensed where Heidi and her friends are, the multi story apartment complex just a few blocks ahead. We roar in to the parking lot and stop underneath a balcony. Without touching the ground we jump atop the Mustang. Scott leaps up and grabs the balcony railing and pulls himself up, then grabs me and helps me up and over, then the other girl. Inside the apartment we can see Heidi and her group. At least a dozen zombies are in there, and half a dozen or more dolphins are circling around on the floor, diving and then trying to thrust up far enough to get one of the people, who have taken refuge atop a pile of sofas and chairs and tables. Heidi is reaching out and touching each dolphin any time one comes close, keeping them controlled and at bay, but she is clearly exhausted. There are two men and one other woman, who are using tables legs and one two-by-four to fend off and bludgeon the zombies.
We yank open the door and race across the room, knocking over several zombies as we go (they are the nice "slow" kind) and even stepping on and pressing under the floor briefly a pair of dolphins. Just as we reach the safe zone of piled furniture, a zombie gets a grip on the hand of the guy with the lumber, and pulls him off balance. He hits the floor and is taken immediately by a pair of dolphins and several zombies. Heidi is too weak to keep going, and sags into the brunette woman's arms, and it's up to me to take her place for a while. Scott take over where the one man went down, and lays into the zombies with a vengeance; he hasn't been fighting them off for an hour already, and has an aluminum bat. I turn and touch three dolphins in rapid order, sending them flopping back under the surface of the floor, and then smacking two other zombies with my own aluminum bat, hard enough to take the head off one (yay, threat ended!) and knock the other completely off its feet.
For a while, we just fight off everything that comes at us. Through the walls we can hear other people fighting and dying, and a few more zombies and dolphins now head our way. While this is going on the brunette manages to get some food and liquids into Heidi and the woman with her, and the remaining guy as well. We need Heidi to help control the added dolphins though, so her rest is short. Scott has a plan, and after getting us in specific positions Heidi and I bring six dolphins up at once, touch them rapidly and send them thrashing a path through the zombies. Scott jumps to the floor and I follow him, touching more dolphins, while Scott presses four zombie backwards, out the balcony doorway, and over the edge. They hit the ground, and that ends them as threats. We spin around and race back inside and now we are grabbing the zombies by clothing or arms and tossing them over the edge as fast as we can. We only have about 90 seconds before the dolphins shake off the effects of my touch and come after us. Heidi shouts at us, and we realize that we need to stop tossing out zombies. There is a threshold level of zombies to dolphins, and if we go below that more dolphins will join in.
Back inside, and I come up with a plan; if take the arms, legs and lower jaws off the zombies they stop being any kind of real threat; then we only need to deal with the dolphins, and they have limits on how high they can reach (they can't leap out of the thicker floor medium, it seems). "We can also cover more of the floor space with a double layer of tables!" Heidi shouts, and we have a measure of safety. Racing from room to room in little parties, we manage to drag back a motley collection of tables, a couple mattresses, and some dressers and another pair of sofa's and armchairs. We flip table upside down, then place tables atop them right-side up; this prevents the dolphins somehow from getting through underneath. We form a ring of sofas and armchairs with the backs facing outwards, and lay the mattresses in a double thick stack in the middle of the circle. One woman can now sleep or at least rest while the other patrols the perimeter, and one guy can stay with her to fend off zombies. Scott takes calculated risk and races out to the hallway to find a fire ax; and when he gets back has an extinguisher as well, so we can now blind the dolphins with CO2; we can't safely kill the dolphins, as doing so sends them into a frenzy, and the psychic charm doesn't work until the frenzy passes. But we now have a way to make a place safe overnight, and even create larger havens.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Never make a Gypsy girl mad.....
Like many of my more epic dreams, this one began in fairly mundane fashion. I was back at my old San Jose office, and was looking out my window and having coffee, watching it rain. Our QA manager came in and was talking to me about an upcoming ISO audit, and was followed by our HR guy talking about a celebrity he had driven around in a limo (his weekend/evening gig), and then our AP clerk Gabby, who was trying to voucher stuff and having problems. Ho hum.
I noticed that in a rather large departure from my normal attire, I had on my black boots, and one of my black silk "poets" shirts, usually worn only at RenFaire or clubs. Hmm. Obviously, it was time for some mischief. I puttered about the office for a while, then made some absurd excuse and left. It had stopped raining but was very overcast outside.
From here on I began a series of small adventures and encounters. The first involved tracking someone who had done something reprehensible (and who I had actually worked with, a real sleaze named Bruce Bartley). My task was to verify he was the culprit, and inflict a suitable punishment. This began the weird; because what I did was use a bit of ritual magic, and make his "three times three" both literal and immediate. He had been treating a subordinate badly. On his drive to Los Angeles, he got stopped three times by police who treated him the same way. He rolled through a red light, and then narrowly missed getting hit three times. Each crappy little thing he did came back on him within minutes. I really liked that one.
A few similar types of events then, with total strangers. Then it was time to do some of my own karmic cleansing, and make a full-on effort to find a former girlfriend, Marge Balla. My little Romany lover had dropped out of touch almost twenty years ago; it was time to find her again and see if she was OK. To my great surprise, it turned out to be almost absurdly simple; some internet searching, contacting some people she had gone to high school with, and paying a PI to get her social security number from a former employer. Plus a bit more magic.
Step two didn't go quite as smoothly; actually talking to her was frustrating, to say the least. She was willing enough to talk briefly on the phone. A face to face didn't go as well; she was polite for about three minutes. Then the facade fell away. She blamed me for never staying in touch (not completely invalid) and for crushing her self-esteem by not keeping in touch with her, not being around when she needed me, which then escalated to never really loving her in the first place. "uhh wait, what? I ...." Hell hath no fury like a woman. She stormed off , and subsequent attempts to reach her were ignored. Fine then.
Not being one to give up easily, and hating to admit defeat.... I cheated. Off to see her mom, who had always liked me more than any of Marge's boyfriends. Easy enough to find mom; she was still living in the former home. This was now a three story San Francisco Victorian, rather than the actual Palo Alto Eikler. Crowded in amongst many similar, the "new" home had a gorgeous stained wood panel exterior rather than paint. The inside was like a cross between "Antiques Roadshow" and movie set for a Gypsie camp. Her mom was in full blown Romany clothing, something she never wore. Marge's room was draped and had an altar at one end (very Wiccan) and the rest of the house had fetishes and lace and candles galore. As I was exploring, listening to her mom lecture me about how I never should have let Marge get away, the atmosphere changed.
One minute it was dimly lit and atmospheric; the next it was dark and ominous. Something was approaching, and not from the Northwest. This was descending like a shroud over the whole block. Her mom instantly began a chant and warned me to take cover or run. As I moved quickly down the stairs, a spirit began to form almost directly ahead. A quick ward deflected it away from me, leaving it lost and confused; but I wasn't going to be able to that again and again. As I reached the room where her mom was sitting, telling a rosary and muttering a spell at the same time, I saw one quick option that might work. Some shawls and lace work that belonged to a grandmother were draped over a sofa. Like a kid hiding under the blankets, I wrapped the shawl around my head and shoulders and then literally dove under the lace work, pulling in even my feet. I could feel the heavy presence of something searching, and it so intense as to be nearly visible, like a purple searchlight sweeping the room.
After an interminable ten or twenty seconds it just vanished, like a circuit had been cut. The spells from Marge's mom perhaps, or whatever had sent it ending the summoning, or else it had simply given up, for now. Her mom insisted it wasn't the type of working Marge would ever do, or even could do; it was time for me to go talk to her again however, no matter how angry or unwilling she was. Her mother had me take one of the small lace objects, a black doylie, as a bit of deflection magic. Summoning both my rather frayed courage and a handy ward, I slipped off again into the night.
I noticed that in a rather large departure from my normal attire, I had on my black boots, and one of my black silk "poets" shirts, usually worn only at RenFaire or clubs. Hmm. Obviously, it was time for some mischief. I puttered about the office for a while, then made some absurd excuse and left. It had stopped raining but was very overcast outside.
From here on I began a series of small adventures and encounters. The first involved tracking someone who had done something reprehensible (and who I had actually worked with, a real sleaze named Bruce Bartley). My task was to verify he was the culprit, and inflict a suitable punishment. This began the weird; because what I did was use a bit of ritual magic, and make his "three times three" both literal and immediate. He had been treating a subordinate badly. On his drive to Los Angeles, he got stopped three times by police who treated him the same way. He rolled through a red light, and then narrowly missed getting hit three times. Each crappy little thing he did came back on him within minutes. I really liked that one.
A few similar types of events then, with total strangers. Then it was time to do some of my own karmic cleansing, and make a full-on effort to find a former girlfriend, Marge Balla. My little Romany lover had dropped out of touch almost twenty years ago; it was time to find her again and see if she was OK. To my great surprise, it turned out to be almost absurdly simple; some internet searching, contacting some people she had gone to high school with, and paying a PI to get her social security number from a former employer. Plus a bit more magic.
Step two didn't go quite as smoothly; actually talking to her was frustrating, to say the least. She was willing enough to talk briefly on the phone. A face to face didn't go as well; she was polite for about three minutes. Then the facade fell away. She blamed me for never staying in touch (not completely invalid) and for crushing her self-esteem by not keeping in touch with her, not being around when she needed me, which then escalated to never really loving her in the first place. "uhh wait, what? I ...." Hell hath no fury like a woman. She stormed off , and subsequent attempts to reach her were ignored. Fine then.
Not being one to give up easily, and hating to admit defeat.... I cheated. Off to see her mom, who had always liked me more than any of Marge's boyfriends. Easy enough to find mom; she was still living in the former home. This was now a three story San Francisco Victorian, rather than the actual Palo Alto Eikler. Crowded in amongst many similar, the "new" home had a gorgeous stained wood panel exterior rather than paint. The inside was like a cross between "Antiques Roadshow" and movie set for a Gypsie camp. Her mom was in full blown Romany clothing, something she never wore. Marge's room was draped and had an altar at one end (very Wiccan) and the rest of the house had fetishes and lace and candles galore. As I was exploring, listening to her mom lecture me about how I never should have let Marge get away, the atmosphere changed.
One minute it was dimly lit and atmospheric; the next it was dark and ominous. Something was approaching, and not from the Northwest. This was descending like a shroud over the whole block. Her mom instantly began a chant and warned me to take cover or run. As I moved quickly down the stairs, a spirit began to form almost directly ahead. A quick ward deflected it away from me, leaving it lost and confused; but I wasn't going to be able to that again and again. As I reached the room where her mom was sitting, telling a rosary and muttering a spell at the same time, I saw one quick option that might work. Some shawls and lace work that belonged to a grandmother were draped over a sofa. Like a kid hiding under the blankets, I wrapped the shawl around my head and shoulders and then literally dove under the lace work, pulling in even my feet. I could feel the heavy presence of something searching, and it so intense as to be nearly visible, like a purple searchlight sweeping the room.
After an interminable ten or twenty seconds it just vanished, like a circuit had been cut. The spells from Marge's mom perhaps, or whatever had sent it ending the summoning, or else it had simply given up, for now. Her mom insisted it wasn't the type of working Marge would ever do, or even could do; it was time for me to go talk to her again however, no matter how angry or unwilling she was. Her mother had me take one of the small lace objects, a black doylie, as a bit of deflection magic. Summoning both my rather frayed courage and a handy ward, I slipped off again into the night.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
The commercials and halftime show for Super Bowl XLVII certainly were not good enough to take the stench of defeat away; nevertheless they were pretty good.
Car commercials were all good for a change, rather than the frequently bland ones, or those relying on special effects. The Dodge Ram commercial was a nice look at dedication to hard work, back by a Paul Harvey commentary on farmers. I think the winner for cars was the Audi commercial, with the kid going solo to the prom. Toyota was a near tie, with Kaley Cuoco on the roof as a Genie( I also liked the promo for BBT, with Leonard dressed wrong. Kaley looks good even in football gear ). Mercedes was my third place pick. Any company using "Sympathy for the Devil" as a score and Willem DaFoe as the devil, in a Bourbon Street diner setting ala "Angel Heart" is a winner. Dodge at fourth place, only because it was so serious. KIA came in last, because I think KIA's suck after my two experiences driving them, but mostly because Space Babies was not as funny as Audi, they didn't have Kaley in it, and it wasn't as creative as Mercedes.
The top place for food commercials goes to Nabisco. An Oreos battle in the library was just genius, and completely unexpected. The Rock's Milk commercial is a very close second place; way to go Dwayne! Dorito's goat commercial was third. After that would be the two Bud Light Voodoo commercials, then the (tired of it now...) "Crackin' Gungam Style".
The odds and ends had some great stuff; the commercial for Axe having an astronaut beat out the shark-punching lifeguard was great, as was the Speed Stick "I'd fold your panties any day" and the Gildan T-shirt as well. I didn't like the Sketchers ad at all; never deprive a Cheetah of food, you jerks. Also was not awed by the GoDaddy bit; the premise was funny, but it played like a bad SNL sketch. Seth Rogan I rarely find funny at all, so his bit falls off the bottom of my list.
My overall winner was the "Two Broke Girls" pole dance number, with the Budweiser Clydesdale a bare point behind. Teary eyed on both, for totally different reasons of course. I have yet to see anything as good as the FedEx commercial from Super Bowl XL; the cave man with the jerk boss was not only funny, but described my former Materials Manager, Dave Pyne to "T". They folowed that one up with the giant pigeon commercial, equally genius. Top slot ever still belongs to EDS for the cowboys herding cats.
Regarding the halftime show, as usual the speed and efficiency of the stage hands was epic. I loved the use of a video floor, and the synch of video to dancers when the short wall came up was perfect. Pyro was understated for a Super Bowl show, making it that much more effective, as you could see the precision of the opening squib/torch progression forming the outlines, without losing the lighting in the resulting haze. I especially like the wedge lead guitar with showers; gotta love a guitar player holding something shooting a jet of burning potassium chlorate, charcoal and aluminum powder out of both ends.
The elevator lifts for the dancers near the end executed perfectly! And while I am not a huge Beyonce fan musically, she has a lovely voice, a great figure, and she totally owned that crowd. Unlike many performers she also is not afraid of them, performing within easy reach. I only saw one person actually touch her, very gently. I would love to see how those sets are constructed, to roll without damaging the turf; presumably there is ply under them.
Car commercials were all good for a change, rather than the frequently bland ones, or those relying on special effects. The Dodge Ram commercial was a nice look at dedication to hard work, back by a Paul Harvey commentary on farmers. I think the winner for cars was the Audi commercial, with the kid going solo to the prom. Toyota was a near tie, with Kaley Cuoco on the roof as a Genie( I also liked the promo for BBT, with Leonard dressed wrong. Kaley looks good even in football gear ). Mercedes was my third place pick. Any company using "Sympathy for the Devil" as a score and Willem DaFoe as the devil, in a Bourbon Street diner setting ala "Angel Heart" is a winner. Dodge at fourth place, only because it was so serious. KIA came in last, because I think KIA's suck after my two experiences driving them, but mostly because Space Babies was not as funny as Audi, they didn't have Kaley in it, and it wasn't as creative as Mercedes.
The top place for food commercials goes to Nabisco. An Oreos battle in the library was just genius, and completely unexpected. The Rock's Milk commercial is a very close second place; way to go Dwayne! Dorito's goat commercial was third. After that would be the two Bud Light Voodoo commercials, then the (tired of it now...) "Crackin' Gungam Style".
The odds and ends had some great stuff; the commercial for Axe having an astronaut beat out the shark-punching lifeguard was great, as was the Speed Stick "I'd fold your panties any day" and the Gildan T-shirt as well. I didn't like the Sketchers ad at all; never deprive a Cheetah of food, you jerks. Also was not awed by the GoDaddy bit; the premise was funny, but it played like a bad SNL sketch. Seth Rogan I rarely find funny at all, so his bit falls off the bottom of my list.
My overall winner was the "Two Broke Girls" pole dance number, with the Budweiser Clydesdale a bare point behind. Teary eyed on both, for totally different reasons of course. I have yet to see anything as good as the FedEx commercial from Super Bowl XL; the cave man with the jerk boss was not only funny, but described my former Materials Manager, Dave Pyne to "T". They folowed that one up with the giant pigeon commercial, equally genius. Top slot ever still belongs to EDS for the cowboys herding cats.
Regarding the halftime show, as usual the speed and efficiency of the stage hands was epic. I loved the use of a video floor, and the synch of video to dancers when the short wall came up was perfect. Pyro was understated for a Super Bowl show, making it that much more effective, as you could see the precision of the opening squib/torch progression forming the outlines, without losing the lighting in the resulting haze. I especially like the wedge lead guitar with showers; gotta love a guitar player holding something shooting a jet of burning potassium chlorate, charcoal and aluminum powder out of both ends.
The elevator lifts for the dancers near the end executed perfectly! And while I am not a huge Beyonce fan musically, she has a lovely voice, a great figure, and she totally owned that crowd. Unlike many performers she also is not afraid of them, performing within easy reach. I only saw one person actually touch her, very gently. I would love to see how those sets are constructed, to roll without damaging the turf; presumably there is ply under them.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
The Wind and the Lion... my version.
Much better waking up after this one than the last .... ^..^
I am struggling through a series of narrow passages inside an Egyptian temple of massive proportions. Luxor and Karnak combined at the height of Egypt's empire, and connected to tombs and chambers like those of the Valley of the Kings. I am following my friend, guide and mentor; the Great Raisuli (yeah, it's Sean Connery).....
We have been on a raid into this temple, trying to capture or kill an evil magus who has usurped the crown of Egypt. He is a cross between Ernst Stavro Blofeld from the Bond films, Fu Manchu, and the magus from the John Fowles novel. If he doesn't actually have magical powers, he is a superb manipulator and illusionist.
Unfortunately the hunters have become the hunted; our small group of followers have been killed or cut off from us, and the pursuit is not only hot on our trail, but are obviously trying to drive us in a particular direction. In a sudden ambush Sean and I are able to break out of the closing net, and after narrowly avoiding several traps, we race towards a possible escape. By now we are down to practically nothing in terms of weapons. I am carrying a long knife, and Sean has the short remainder of his broken sword, now barely more than a dagger itself. Our guns have long since run out of ammo, used as clubs and hammers for a while, then finally discarded.
The escape route is an illusion however; a final trap, if not the one intended. Our foe appears just moments after we have dodged into a small chamber with a narrow window to the outer world, and bars have dropped behind us. He comes up with a small guard force, and takes some time to gloat over our impending death. While he can't easily get to us through the bars, and admits he may not even know how to reset them, he laughs because we have left ourselves only two exits; through a huge labyrinth that he has never explored fully, and that none of his teams have ever come out of, or out a small doorway further along, with a drop down a sheer wall of some 60 or 70 feet, to a vast section of desert patrolled by lions and other things. He gleefully says goodbye, and closes the outer doors.
With no other choice we enter the even narrower passage into the labyrinth. As we pass one huge block of stone it slides from the side wall, closing off the route back except for a small slot 3 or 4 inches wide at the top. The channel shows both the wear and tear of water or some other liquid rushing down it at great force, as well as char marks; I don't really like to think about the options that represents. Quickly we move down the corridor, and perhaps 50 feet along we can see a pair of small doors that open outwards.
With a lot of effort we force them open. Sure enough, the drop to the ground is a long one, and we can see numerous lionesses lounging in the shade of the tall facade. Rolling desert and light veldt stretch off for miles in around, and leaning out we can see that the building is met by a wall of equal height running off as far as we can see in either direction. Perhaps 8 to 10 miles off we can see what might be a low line of bushes and scattered trees. Well away from the wall in a weirdly ordered pile what appears to be clothing of various styles is lying. As we look out we can also see that piled up against the wall between the lions and the area directly below us, another mound has grown. This looks like a heap of torn and shredded cloth, rotting corpses, and animal dung. From the direction of the possible tree line, we can now hear an elephant's call.
There is another sound, something moving about behind us. Sean declares that one of us must try to escape outside, while the other braves the labyrinth alone. He grabs my arms, lowering me as far as he can out the doorway. I begin swinging and running along the wall, trying to throw myself towards the hopefully softer pile of refuse, even though that will put me close to the now watchful lionesses. Even hanging as low as I am, a straight drop would break if not shatter both legs. With one final swing I let go of Sean's wrists and sail out towards the pile. To my surprise, I land perfectly near the top, blasting it away from me into the face of a lioness charging towards me, and rolling back down the side I come up on my feet, knife out in front of me, just in time to catch a second lion leaping at me. She dies on the blade and knocks me into the wall as her corpse butts into me. There at my feet I can see a gold and black .45 automatic; without pause I grab the gun in my left hand, jack the slide and see at least one round, and fire into the other lionesses who are now racing along the ground. Two of them drop, and the rest run away from the gunfire, stopping well out of easy range. There they sit and watch me.
Looking about I can now see other weapons scattered about, and belts still holding clips and ammo pouches, even a few packs. Shouting back at Sean I tell him to wait, and I quickly gather up two more automatics, and nearly a dozen full clips. I run back and begin throwing them up to him, with rather remarkable success. Just in time also it seems, as no sooner has he loaded the first weapon than he spins and fires three times back into the corridor somewhere. I'm yelling at him to hold on, while I try to drag over as much of the pile as I can so he can try jumping as well. He yells back that there's no time, and fires again back into the labyrinth.
All the shooting has roused something else as well; from behind what must be some obscuring low dunes a dozen or more ragged men and women are approaching, armed with a collection of broken spears, makeshift clubs, and one or two knives. I'm about to fire on them when I realize that they aren't going to attack, but are coming forward to help me, and to drive the lions off or at least keep them at bay. I shout instructions to them to carry everything they can over to a spot below the wall as fast as they can run, set up three men who show that they know how to use the guns and rifles we are starting to find to hold off any attack, and then I dive in and start lugging clothes. Within what seems like less than two minutes I have a pile almost 20 feet around and 10 high, and I yell at Sean to jump. He spins about and empties both guns as he throws himself backwards out the window. Whatever the hell is in there, he wants to make sure it can't come out after him, and breaking his neck or his back is apparently better than the alternative. As he falls towards the pile of clothes something huge and dark fills the small doorway and blocks it. It is covered in what might be a mix of feathers and fur, with scales underneath; it is also so large that all I am seeing is part of a limb and it's side, shoulder, or hip. Sean crashes into the pile and rebounds off the side much as I did; but other than "a bruised dignity perhaps" he says he is unhurt.
Now we have a bit of peace and relative safety. Sean and I quickly discover that the rag-tag band of 16 men and women are mostly survivors of our enemy's "exploration teams". Victims he has had driven into the labyrinth to either kill them or see if they make it out. A few are from expeditions led to assault the temple, as far back as 30 years ago. As we begin to search the huge pile of clothes we had used to build the mound, I see that what we have looks like the costume trailers for a dozen Hollywood costume dramas have been looted and dumped here. There are dozens of cavalry officers uniforms, including hats, boots, and even sabers; Roman Legion tunics of wool or coarse linen, along with full sets of what turn out to be very ornate gold plated Lorica; Civil War uniforms, and even French Foreign Legion gear. Scattered about underneath is an assortment of rifles, swords, handguns, and best of all crates of ammunition. Quick examination shows that none of the ammo are blanks, and all of the clothing etc. appears to be nearly new. No one can explain how it got there or why; the only possible clue comes when a pair of good horse drawn wagons are found amidst the wreckage of several others, behind another set of dunes. Any horses that might have been used have long since been taken away, or perhaps eaten by the lions. None of the survivors had ever realized there might be usable weapons there; since most of them arrived alone, they had fled the lions, often losing several others in the process. Even with 16 of them together none had felt safe trying to come back and look, until they heard our gunshots.
We rapidly get our tiny army re-clothed and armed, and barring some language barriers establish at least the start of a plan. There is no way to get back up to the still open but now blocked doorway Sean and I had leapt from; there is also no obvious gap or opening in the wall in either direction, and none of our little band know if there is water or shelter beyond what is indeed a narrow belt of light forest. No one there has ever gone beyond the forest, as the other side reveals only more hot and arid veldt. We load up the carts with the remaining weapons and ammo, including a half dozen really fancy but very functional recurve bows, with nearly 1000 aluminum shafted hunting arrows at a rough count. The mix of modern and ancient has me truly baffled; but I'm not going to look too closely at the largesse. On a whim I load up as much of the (Clothing? Costumes?) as we can haul with ease as well. I figure we can try selling the stuff or trading it if we ever reach anything besides more wall.... finally, we skin and dress the dead lions, and fill every container we have with water from a clear but tiny stream that runs nearby. With no really good choices, we agree to head north along the path of the huge wall, well away from it while still keeping it visible to scouts on our flank. It seems the best choice, as in theory going north should eventually run us into the Mediterranean. Hopefully the damn wall ends long before that, and we can find a village, or nomads, anything and anyone that are not in league with our overly cunning enemy. I look at our tiny troop; some have dressed in the gear most like what they wore originally; some have dressed for comfort, some for style, some for safety. I have one guy wearing a pair of Foreign Legion white pants, tall Confederate cavalry boots, a loose white lined tunic with a Roman Lorica breastplate over it, a pair of bracers, and a cocky cavalry hat with a feather in it. He has a sword on one hip, a long rifle like a Martini-Henry or Enfield slung over his shoulder, and a .45 Colt revolver on his other hip. He might well drop from exhaustion, but at least he feels safe.... and actually looks sort of stylish. Sean has somehow found what looks like Bedouin dress, with a robe, tunic and baggy pants of linen, and a keffiya and headband. I am wearing a rather eclectic mix myself; the white Foreign Legion pants with a pair of black boots, a white loose cavalry shirt with an open black officers coat, and a black cavalry hat with a feather as well. Like my oddly clothed comrade I have a sword on my left hip, the gold and black .45 on the other, and a very nice rifle stuck into the side of a cart for ready access. Time to go; we all grab a cart handle, our two scouts fan out to the sides, and we head north. The lionesses are trotting cautiously off to the other side, back towards the carcasses of their former pride mates; possibly to see what we did to them, but more likely to take advantage of the free meal. Waste not, want not.......
I am struggling through a series of narrow passages inside an Egyptian temple of massive proportions. Luxor and Karnak combined at the height of Egypt's empire, and connected to tombs and chambers like those of the Valley of the Kings. I am following my friend, guide and mentor; the Great Raisuli (yeah, it's Sean Connery).....
We have been on a raid into this temple, trying to capture or kill an evil magus who has usurped the crown of Egypt. He is a cross between Ernst Stavro Blofeld from the Bond films, Fu Manchu, and the magus from the John Fowles novel. If he doesn't actually have magical powers, he is a superb manipulator and illusionist.
Unfortunately the hunters have become the hunted; our small group of followers have been killed or cut off from us, and the pursuit is not only hot on our trail, but are obviously trying to drive us in a particular direction. In a sudden ambush Sean and I are able to break out of the closing net, and after narrowly avoiding several traps, we race towards a possible escape. By now we are down to practically nothing in terms of weapons. I am carrying a long knife, and Sean has the short remainder of his broken sword, now barely more than a dagger itself. Our guns have long since run out of ammo, used as clubs and hammers for a while, then finally discarded.
The escape route is an illusion however; a final trap, if not the one intended. Our foe appears just moments after we have dodged into a small chamber with a narrow window to the outer world, and bars have dropped behind us. He comes up with a small guard force, and takes some time to gloat over our impending death. While he can't easily get to us through the bars, and admits he may not even know how to reset them, he laughs because we have left ourselves only two exits; through a huge labyrinth that he has never explored fully, and that none of his teams have ever come out of, or out a small doorway further along, with a drop down a sheer wall of some 60 or 70 feet, to a vast section of desert patrolled by lions and other things. He gleefully says goodbye, and closes the outer doors.
With no other choice we enter the even narrower passage into the labyrinth. As we pass one huge block of stone it slides from the side wall, closing off the route back except for a small slot 3 or 4 inches wide at the top. The channel shows both the wear and tear of water or some other liquid rushing down it at great force, as well as char marks; I don't really like to think about the options that represents. Quickly we move down the corridor, and perhaps 50 feet along we can see a pair of small doors that open outwards.
With a lot of effort we force them open. Sure enough, the drop to the ground is a long one, and we can see numerous lionesses lounging in the shade of the tall facade. Rolling desert and light veldt stretch off for miles in around, and leaning out we can see that the building is met by a wall of equal height running off as far as we can see in either direction. Perhaps 8 to 10 miles off we can see what might be a low line of bushes and scattered trees. Well away from the wall in a weirdly ordered pile what appears to be clothing of various styles is lying. As we look out we can also see that piled up against the wall between the lions and the area directly below us, another mound has grown. This looks like a heap of torn and shredded cloth, rotting corpses, and animal dung. From the direction of the possible tree line, we can now hear an elephant's call.
There is another sound, something moving about behind us. Sean declares that one of us must try to escape outside, while the other braves the labyrinth alone. He grabs my arms, lowering me as far as he can out the doorway. I begin swinging and running along the wall, trying to throw myself towards the hopefully softer pile of refuse, even though that will put me close to the now watchful lionesses. Even hanging as low as I am, a straight drop would break if not shatter both legs. With one final swing I let go of Sean's wrists and sail out towards the pile. To my surprise, I land perfectly near the top, blasting it away from me into the face of a lioness charging towards me, and rolling back down the side I come up on my feet, knife out in front of me, just in time to catch a second lion leaping at me. She dies on the blade and knocks me into the wall as her corpse butts into me. There at my feet I can see a gold and black .45 automatic; without pause I grab the gun in my left hand, jack the slide and see at least one round, and fire into the other lionesses who are now racing along the ground. Two of them drop, and the rest run away from the gunfire, stopping well out of easy range. There they sit and watch me.
Looking about I can now see other weapons scattered about, and belts still holding clips and ammo pouches, even a few packs. Shouting back at Sean I tell him to wait, and I quickly gather up two more automatics, and nearly a dozen full clips. I run back and begin throwing them up to him, with rather remarkable success. Just in time also it seems, as no sooner has he loaded the first weapon than he spins and fires three times back into the corridor somewhere. I'm yelling at him to hold on, while I try to drag over as much of the pile as I can so he can try jumping as well. He yells back that there's no time, and fires again back into the labyrinth.
All the shooting has roused something else as well; from behind what must be some obscuring low dunes a dozen or more ragged men and women are approaching, armed with a collection of broken spears, makeshift clubs, and one or two knives. I'm about to fire on them when I realize that they aren't going to attack, but are coming forward to help me, and to drive the lions off or at least keep them at bay. I shout instructions to them to carry everything they can over to a spot below the wall as fast as they can run, set up three men who show that they know how to use the guns and rifles we are starting to find to hold off any attack, and then I dive in and start lugging clothes. Within what seems like less than two minutes I have a pile almost 20 feet around and 10 high, and I yell at Sean to jump. He spins about and empties both guns as he throws himself backwards out the window. Whatever the hell is in there, he wants to make sure it can't come out after him, and breaking his neck or his back is apparently better than the alternative. As he falls towards the pile of clothes something huge and dark fills the small doorway and blocks it. It is covered in what might be a mix of feathers and fur, with scales underneath; it is also so large that all I am seeing is part of a limb and it's side, shoulder, or hip. Sean crashes into the pile and rebounds off the side much as I did; but other than "a bruised dignity perhaps" he says he is unhurt.
Now we have a bit of peace and relative safety. Sean and I quickly discover that the rag-tag band of 16 men and women are mostly survivors of our enemy's "exploration teams". Victims he has had driven into the labyrinth to either kill them or see if they make it out. A few are from expeditions led to assault the temple, as far back as 30 years ago. As we begin to search the huge pile of clothes we had used to build the mound, I see that what we have looks like the costume trailers for a dozen Hollywood costume dramas have been looted and dumped here. There are dozens of cavalry officers uniforms, including hats, boots, and even sabers; Roman Legion tunics of wool or coarse linen, along with full sets of what turn out to be very ornate gold plated Lorica; Civil War uniforms, and even French Foreign Legion gear. Scattered about underneath is an assortment of rifles, swords, handguns, and best of all crates of ammunition. Quick examination shows that none of the ammo are blanks, and all of the clothing etc. appears to be nearly new. No one can explain how it got there or why; the only possible clue comes when a pair of good horse drawn wagons are found amidst the wreckage of several others, behind another set of dunes. Any horses that might have been used have long since been taken away, or perhaps eaten by the lions. None of the survivors had ever realized there might be usable weapons there; since most of them arrived alone, they had fled the lions, often losing several others in the process. Even with 16 of them together none had felt safe trying to come back and look, until they heard our gunshots.
We rapidly get our tiny army re-clothed and armed, and barring some language barriers establish at least the start of a plan. There is no way to get back up to the still open but now blocked doorway Sean and I had leapt from; there is also no obvious gap or opening in the wall in either direction, and none of our little band know if there is water or shelter beyond what is indeed a narrow belt of light forest. No one there has ever gone beyond the forest, as the other side reveals only more hot and arid veldt. We load up the carts with the remaining weapons and ammo, including a half dozen really fancy but very functional recurve bows, with nearly 1000 aluminum shafted hunting arrows at a rough count. The mix of modern and ancient has me truly baffled; but I'm not going to look too closely at the largesse. On a whim I load up as much of the (Clothing? Costumes?) as we can haul with ease as well. I figure we can try selling the stuff or trading it if we ever reach anything besides more wall.... finally, we skin and dress the dead lions, and fill every container we have with water from a clear but tiny stream that runs nearby. With no really good choices, we agree to head north along the path of the huge wall, well away from it while still keeping it visible to scouts on our flank. It seems the best choice, as in theory going north should eventually run us into the Mediterranean. Hopefully the damn wall ends long before that, and we can find a village, or nomads, anything and anyone that are not in league with our overly cunning enemy. I look at our tiny troop; some have dressed in the gear most like what they wore originally; some have dressed for comfort, some for style, some for safety. I have one guy wearing a pair of Foreign Legion white pants, tall Confederate cavalry boots, a loose white lined tunic with a Roman Lorica breastplate over it, a pair of bracers, and a cocky cavalry hat with a feather in it. He has a sword on one hip, a long rifle like a Martini-Henry or Enfield slung over his shoulder, and a .45 Colt revolver on his other hip. He might well drop from exhaustion, but at least he feels safe.... and actually looks sort of stylish. Sean has somehow found what looks like Bedouin dress, with a robe, tunic and baggy pants of linen, and a keffiya and headband. I am wearing a rather eclectic mix myself; the white Foreign Legion pants with a pair of black boots, a white loose cavalry shirt with an open black officers coat, and a black cavalry hat with a feather as well. Like my oddly clothed comrade I have a sword on my left hip, the gold and black .45 on the other, and a very nice rifle stuck into the side of a cart for ready access. Time to go; we all grab a cart handle, our two scouts fan out to the sides, and we head north. The lionesses are trotting cautiously off to the other side, back towards the carcasses of their former pride mates; possibly to see what we did to them, but more likely to take advantage of the free meal. Waste not, want not.......
Sunday, September 9, 2012
To the manners born
I never know where my mind gets the raw materials for these dreams... maybe that's a good thing.
I had just purchased tickets to see a show at a remote concert venue. Much like the Mountain Winery, this site was located in the hills, and surrounded by trees and mostly open countryside. Unlike the Winery, the hill it was located on was low enough that you could easily walk up to it from the nearby roadway in less than 20 minutes.
Rather than driving I had chosen to ride my horse; a dapple grey gelding named Bulldozer. Perhaps my favorite of all time, he was a warmblood mix, and stood almost 17 hands high. Also one of the smartest I have ever encountered, with a tiger-like love of splashing about in ponds and shallow lakes.... regardless of whether you were still in the saddle or not. Rather than ride him down the hill I chose to walk alongside him, giving him a chance to nibble at interesting flora along the way.
We reached the bottom of the road that wound up to the concert site, and turned out on to the main two lane road that ran back towards the city, perhaps eight miles away through the lightly forested low hills and shallow dells. A few other people were also walking in the area, most just getting back to cars parked along the side of the road.
I watched as one man, for whatever reason, decided to cross the road and cut across-country, down a mild slope into an area of open field surrounded by scattered trees and clumps of bushes. The field must have been close to thirty acres over all, and incredibly uneven. He was followed by another man who was planning to drive his car along a rutted path that might have been good for horses or hay wagons; I expected to see him stuck within less than 200 feet.
Turning to the left and my way back home, I was just about to remount Bulldozer when I realized that the random stands of trees and ragged patches of bushes and plants had met up with heavily trimmed and sculpted greenery. Low hedges and tall arched rows of pruned trees led off towards a huge home. We could see that the surrounding land had been leveled and sculpted, to make a slowly rising terrace effect, leaving the house standing on a plateau perhaps ten feet above the outer grounds.
The house itself covered an area at least a full square acre in size. Coming closer I saw that the entire home and a low surrounding wall had been carved in intricate detail, like a Terracotta vase. An amazing pattern of leaves, flowers, and bundles of berries had been carved into the surface, covering almost ten feet before the pattern repeated. The stone had to have been machine cut, so precise was the detail and the pattern. On closer inspection of the wall I saw that additional hand carving had been done, adding small but important variance to the overall visual effect. I could also see now that at random intervals, a small concave leaf-shaped area had been carved into the stone, with a minimum of four or five feet separating each indentation. The concave curves had then been painted or plated with a metallic coating, in various tones from silver, to bronze, to gold. Each little hollow had a small amount of water cupped within. The sky was slightly overcast, so it took a moment before realization struck; under full sunlight or moonlight, these little areas would act like tiny mirrors, producing glimmers of colored light amongst the carvings.
I was so enthralled by the grandeur of the home and the landscaping, it was at several minutes before I noticed an object lying in the grass that surrounded the outer wall. I stepped forward, and realized that I was looking at a gold, or gold plated, device of some sort. An outer shell of metal in delicate filigree, like fine Spanish lace, covered a faceted inner sleeve of clear glass. Inside the glass was an intricate clockwork type mechanism. I had no idea what the thing was, but I could tell that it had fallen and broken. It appeared to have been hanging from the branch of a nearby tree, when the chain supporting it snapped. I was just about to pick it up for closer inspection when another man walking on the road caught up to me.
"You should leave that alone" he told me. "The people in that home are strange, and not very friendly. We don't even know what the family's name is." He went on to tell me that they wouldn't appreciate anyone taking the object, even though it had been lying there broken for months.
"I'm not going to steal it" I told him. "I was thinking I might be able to repair it, and it's too lovely to be left just lying here. I was going to go up and ask them if they would mind."
"Don't do that!" he said. "They hate anyone coming on the property, or bothering them, or....."
That decided me. I picked up the odd device and after leading Bulldozer to a small tree where I could loop his reins, allowing him to graze the neatly trimmed lawn, I approached the house from side. I was immediately struck by the immensity of the home. It reminded me of Chambord Castle in France, though that did not have all the carving. The stone also had a ruddy tone to it, again much like Terracotta, though not so dark.
As I got closer I could see through a ground floor window into a study. The room was filled with either ornate antique furniture (or modern and very expensive replicas of antique furniture). Seated at a low study table was a woman in her early thirties, working on a laptop. Several files were open on the table top, and she was looking through a small stack of papers. She might have been pretty; but there was an air of severity to her that ruined any charms she might have. Although she was alone, she was sitting rigidly upright at the table, as though at any minute she might be graded on her posture.
I could see now that there was a side door, opening onto an inner courtyard. What I had initially taken for the front door was merely the main doorway to the courtyard. As I stepped through the door into the courtyard itself, two young women were just stepping out of the house itself. Both were dressed for riding, and they appeared to be about thirteen or fourteen years old. They spotted me instantly and before I could say a word, they both began ordering me to stay away, to keep my distance, to "vacate our home immediately".... When I spoke, they shut up instantly, as if in shock that a commoner should reply... or as if a cow had spoken Shakespeare. It did occur to me that I was wearing faded blue jeans and a simple black T-shirt, but I had gone out riding an to pick up show tickets after all , not have dinner with the President.
"I would like to speak to your mother or your father, if either is home" I said. At that point the woman I had seen in the study came out through the same door the girls had, trailed by a boy who perhaps was as old as sixteen. He stepped forward and puffed himself up, clearly planning to defend the women from the barbarian at the gates. I was certain the woman was the mother of all three; the resemblance was quite apparent.
She began ordering me off the estate, with exactly the hauteur and arrogance I had expected. I stood there silently, letting her rant and not showing any expression at all, until she began to sputter and run out of steam. When she finally said "Well?" I responded.
"I did not mean to intrude or startle you; nor was I planning on stealing this, as you implied. It would be rather foolish to come up to the front door if I was planning to steal it, would it not? I found this lying by the road, where it appears to have fallen, and I thought I would offer to repair it for you. I believe I can do so, though it is not what I do for a living. " At that point she started up again, telling me they wouldn't pay for unwanted services, and how dare I presume to... at which point I cut her off. Something she was obviously not used to. Her children's eyes nearly popped out in shock.
"I said nothing about payment, nor would I expect any. Had you paid attention you would have noticed that. Rather than listen to you rave any more, I will assume you don't care what I do with this. If I can fix it, I will send it back to you. If I can't I will return it also. Good day."
I then turned and walked out the way I had come. I could hear them talking softly behind me, and when they saw me loose and mount Bulldozer I could clearly hear both girls saying "He rides! Oh my, look at that horse! He's lovely!" The mother must have shushed them and stormed back inside; I could hear the door shut "firmly" (slamming obviously being beneath her). Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of all three children opening the door again to watch me ride off.
After I got home I discovered that I was, in fact, able to repair what turned out to be some odd mix of wind chime and clock; the intricate works inside would stir at the slightest breeze, and a small gearing device wound a spring. A metronome like arm would then begin ticking, and every two hours another bar would begin tapping the hanging chimes in sequence. I was utterly enchanted by the thing. Making sure it was carefully wrapped, I placed it in a box and then decided to add a note, written on the nicest paper I had, and in my best hand. Once again riding Bulldozer I cantered along the road and up to the false front door; I knocked loudly three times, set the box with its note down and swung back into the saddle. I was quite pleased to hear the door open, and a gasp as the woman read the note.
"I am returning your marvelous clockwork chimes, as promised. I was in fact able to repair it, though I am not a craftsman by trade. While nearly thirty hours was spent working upon it, and a small amount of materials, I do not expect payment. Should you choose to do, the cost is a note saying "Thank You". Unlike you in this glittering midden heap, I value manners far more than money."
As I rode slowly off I waved without looking back, knowing they were watching me. They could not see the nearly ear-splitting grin I would not have been able to hide.
I had just purchased tickets to see a show at a remote concert venue. Much like the Mountain Winery, this site was located in the hills, and surrounded by trees and mostly open countryside. Unlike the Winery, the hill it was located on was low enough that you could easily walk up to it from the nearby roadway in less than 20 minutes.
Rather than driving I had chosen to ride my horse; a dapple grey gelding named Bulldozer. Perhaps my favorite of all time, he was a warmblood mix, and stood almost 17 hands high. Also one of the smartest I have ever encountered, with a tiger-like love of splashing about in ponds and shallow lakes.... regardless of whether you were still in the saddle or not. Rather than ride him down the hill I chose to walk alongside him, giving him a chance to nibble at interesting flora along the way.
We reached the bottom of the road that wound up to the concert site, and turned out on to the main two lane road that ran back towards the city, perhaps eight miles away through the lightly forested low hills and shallow dells. A few other people were also walking in the area, most just getting back to cars parked along the side of the road.
I watched as one man, for whatever reason, decided to cross the road and cut across-country, down a mild slope into an area of open field surrounded by scattered trees and clumps of bushes. The field must have been close to thirty acres over all, and incredibly uneven. He was followed by another man who was planning to drive his car along a rutted path that might have been good for horses or hay wagons; I expected to see him stuck within less than 200 feet.
Turning to the left and my way back home, I was just about to remount Bulldozer when I realized that the random stands of trees and ragged patches of bushes and plants had met up with heavily trimmed and sculpted greenery. Low hedges and tall arched rows of pruned trees led off towards a huge home. We could see that the surrounding land had been leveled and sculpted, to make a slowly rising terrace effect, leaving the house standing on a plateau perhaps ten feet above the outer grounds.
The house itself covered an area at least a full square acre in size. Coming closer I saw that the entire home and a low surrounding wall had been carved in intricate detail, like a Terracotta vase. An amazing pattern of leaves, flowers, and bundles of berries had been carved into the surface, covering almost ten feet before the pattern repeated. The stone had to have been machine cut, so precise was the detail and the pattern. On closer inspection of the wall I saw that additional hand carving had been done, adding small but important variance to the overall visual effect. I could also see now that at random intervals, a small concave leaf-shaped area had been carved into the stone, with a minimum of four or five feet separating each indentation. The concave curves had then been painted or plated with a metallic coating, in various tones from silver, to bronze, to gold. Each little hollow had a small amount of water cupped within. The sky was slightly overcast, so it took a moment before realization struck; under full sunlight or moonlight, these little areas would act like tiny mirrors, producing glimmers of colored light amongst the carvings.
I was so enthralled by the grandeur of the home and the landscaping, it was at several minutes before I noticed an object lying in the grass that surrounded the outer wall. I stepped forward, and realized that I was looking at a gold, or gold plated, device of some sort. An outer shell of metal in delicate filigree, like fine Spanish lace, covered a faceted inner sleeve of clear glass. Inside the glass was an intricate clockwork type mechanism. I had no idea what the thing was, but I could tell that it had fallen and broken. It appeared to have been hanging from the branch of a nearby tree, when the chain supporting it snapped. I was just about to pick it up for closer inspection when another man walking on the road caught up to me.
"You should leave that alone" he told me. "The people in that home are strange, and not very friendly. We don't even know what the family's name is." He went on to tell me that they wouldn't appreciate anyone taking the object, even though it had been lying there broken for months.
"I'm not going to steal it" I told him. "I was thinking I might be able to repair it, and it's too lovely to be left just lying here. I was going to go up and ask them if they would mind."
"Don't do that!" he said. "They hate anyone coming on the property, or bothering them, or....."
That decided me. I picked up the odd device and after leading Bulldozer to a small tree where I could loop his reins, allowing him to graze the neatly trimmed lawn, I approached the house from side. I was immediately struck by the immensity of the home. It reminded me of Chambord Castle in France, though that did not have all the carving. The stone also had a ruddy tone to it, again much like Terracotta, though not so dark.
As I got closer I could see through a ground floor window into a study. The room was filled with either ornate antique furniture (or modern and very expensive replicas of antique furniture). Seated at a low study table was a woman in her early thirties, working on a laptop. Several files were open on the table top, and she was looking through a small stack of papers. She might have been pretty; but there was an air of severity to her that ruined any charms she might have. Although she was alone, she was sitting rigidly upright at the table, as though at any minute she might be graded on her posture.
I could see now that there was a side door, opening onto an inner courtyard. What I had initially taken for the front door was merely the main doorway to the courtyard. As I stepped through the door into the courtyard itself, two young women were just stepping out of the house itself. Both were dressed for riding, and they appeared to be about thirteen or fourteen years old. They spotted me instantly and before I could say a word, they both began ordering me to stay away, to keep my distance, to "vacate our home immediately".... When I spoke, they shut up instantly, as if in shock that a commoner should reply... or as if a cow had spoken Shakespeare. It did occur to me that I was wearing faded blue jeans and a simple black T-shirt, but I had gone out riding an to pick up show tickets after all , not have dinner with the President.
"I would like to speak to your mother or your father, if either is home" I said. At that point the woman I had seen in the study came out through the same door the girls had, trailed by a boy who perhaps was as old as sixteen. He stepped forward and puffed himself up, clearly planning to defend the women from the barbarian at the gates. I was certain the woman was the mother of all three; the resemblance was quite apparent.
She began ordering me off the estate, with exactly the hauteur and arrogance I had expected. I stood there silently, letting her rant and not showing any expression at all, until she began to sputter and run out of steam. When she finally said "Well?" I responded.
"I did not mean to intrude or startle you; nor was I planning on stealing this, as you implied. It would be rather foolish to come up to the front door if I was planning to steal it, would it not? I found this lying by the road, where it appears to have fallen, and I thought I would offer to repair it for you. I believe I can do so, though it is not what I do for a living. " At that point she started up again, telling me they wouldn't pay for unwanted services, and how dare I presume to... at which point I cut her off. Something she was obviously not used to. Her children's eyes nearly popped out in shock.
"I said nothing about payment, nor would I expect any. Had you paid attention you would have noticed that. Rather than listen to you rave any more, I will assume you don't care what I do with this. If I can fix it, I will send it back to you. If I can't I will return it also. Good day."
I then turned and walked out the way I had come. I could hear them talking softly behind me, and when they saw me loose and mount Bulldozer I could clearly hear both girls saying "He rides! Oh my, look at that horse! He's lovely!" The mother must have shushed them and stormed back inside; I could hear the door shut "firmly" (slamming obviously being beneath her). Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of all three children opening the door again to watch me ride off.
After I got home I discovered that I was, in fact, able to repair what turned out to be some odd mix of wind chime and clock; the intricate works inside would stir at the slightest breeze, and a small gearing device wound a spring. A metronome like arm would then begin ticking, and every two hours another bar would begin tapping the hanging chimes in sequence. I was utterly enchanted by the thing. Making sure it was carefully wrapped, I placed it in a box and then decided to add a note, written on the nicest paper I had, and in my best hand. Once again riding Bulldozer I cantered along the road and up to the false front door; I knocked loudly three times, set the box with its note down and swung back into the saddle. I was quite pleased to hear the door open, and a gasp as the woman read the note.
"I am returning your marvelous clockwork chimes, as promised. I was in fact able to repair it, though I am not a craftsman by trade. While nearly thirty hours was spent working upon it, and a small amount of materials, I do not expect payment. Should you choose to do, the cost is a note saying "Thank You". Unlike you in this glittering midden heap, I value manners far more than money."
As I rode slowly off I waved without looking back, knowing they were watching me. They could not see the nearly ear-splitting grin I would not have been able to hide.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
2012 Olympic Ceremony; Genius Spotting
I was utterly spellbound watching the spectacular 2012 Olympics opening ceremony, created by Danny Boyle. I was going to watch it again before writing my impressions, and take some specific notes so I didn't get out of sequence or forget things. Pfffft. Within 10 minutes of the second playing, I realized I had forgotten to take a single note. So with apologies in advance for any errors or oversights, here I go.
The ceremony began with a video segment titled "Isles of Wonder", and began by tracing the Thames from its origin point through to the heart of London. Along the way, various classic pastoral images from the countryside began to mix with images of the high-speed rail, the subway (tubes or Underground if you prefer) and the more industrial areas along the banks. This was deftly underscored by music as varied as were the images; I heard one section that sounded like a baroque song written for Henry VIII, as well as assorted choral and pastoral music and I think some Andrew Lloyd Webber (not Cats...). As the camera got closer to London, I heard Pink Floyd (they also had a giant pig flying from a building... YAY Danny!) as well as "London Calling" by The Clash, "God Save the Queen" (in the London Underground stations) by The Sex Pistols (bold!) and some Eric Clapton, Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones, David Bowie.... and Meredith Veira couldn't help singing along a bit. Oh, some band called "The Beatles" got time as well... I loved the use of a whole gamut of music here, and the very British sly poke at its own stodgy image, using music by the Sex Pistols.
All of this ended with the lights in the stadium revealing the first part of over 10,000 volunteers from all across the United Kingdom, who played key roles in the ceremony from start to fin¬ish. This first group was 10 clusters of children holding huge balloon batches numbered 10 to 1, which burst as a group as the entire stadium counted down. This was cute but not very inspiring. I was underwhelmed, after the superb video start. Little did I know.
The British cyclist (Brad Wiggins; had to look it up) who won the Tour de France days earlier came out and rang the world's largest tuned bell, cast for the show at Whitechapel Foundry. The bell was inscribed with part of a line from Shakespeare's "The Tempest": "Be not afraid, the isle is full of noises". This was part of the underlying and unifying theme of Boyles ceremony, bringing in diverse elements of historic UK culture that influenced the whole world. After the bell was wrung, the ceremony itself began inside the stadium. The entire floor of the stadium was covered in real sod, with a small replica English village, and a towering replica of Gastonbury Tor. A 9 year old boy began singing "Jerusalem" A Capella; and American Idol/The Voice hopefuls be warned; this kid can take all of you. Hands down. From there three other choral groups each took turns, singing similarly informal anthems for Ireland, "Danny Boy", and for Scotland and Wales in turn. I don't know what those were; they were still wonderful to hear.
The pace accelerated here, and Kenneth Brannagh came out as part of a group of Victorian businessmen, ushering in the Industrial Revolution. Brannagh delivered more of the "be not afraid" speech, and as he did so the hundreds of people who were portraying villagers were joined by men and women in Victorian workers clothing. The sections of sod were rolled up and carried out, and smokestacks began to rise from the now cobblestoned and "industrial" looking flooring that had been under the sod. Workers began to forge a huge ring in the center of the stadium, and as four other rings flew in from the rim of the stadium the center ring was raised to join them, forming the linked Olympic logo. Lighting and then some excellent pyro finished that segment. If you ever want to know what a Union Stagehand Rigger does, all the flying/lifting/suspended stuff was their work. Way to go rigging crews! Amazing! I might have used Derek Jacoby instead of Kenneth Brannagh, but that's just me.
There was a silent moment to honor the men and women lost in the two World Wars, then 1000 percussionists began to play syncopated cadence led by a woman who had been deaf since the age of 11... and yeah, I had to look her name up again. Dame Evelyn Glennie. She was awesome. Drummers and aspiring drummers, watch this show. These people basically kept playing from this point in the show until the end of the Procession of Countries...... about 2 hours.
More nods, and a few winks, to elements of British society here. A parade of people dressed ala "Sgt. Pepper", some mods, a group of Daleks (I think so anyway) and the Chelsea Pensioners, an organized group of retired British military. I think they did a "set change here; hard to tell, the way NBC kept cutting away for commercials. Take a page from the BBC for these things American Television; put your advertisers in a small clump just before the event starts. If there is a planned intermission or break, stick more in there, and leave the rest for after the finale. Better still..... use sponsors, run NO ads, and let us watch the event. It's not like you would go bankrupt if you did that, what, once every two years?
So, off the soapbox. Another short video clip, which took a minute for me to catch on to. Daniel Craig as James Bond, escorting HRH to a waiting helicopter in the Buckingham Palace courtyard. Great little bit as Daniel stood in the Queens small chamber.. where she sat writing a note, her back to him.... until he very politely "coughed". She turned around to look at him a moment later, and yes, I am certain that was in fact herself, Queen Elizabeth II. The helicopter took off, becoming a CGI for a bit, until appearing above the stadium. After looking down at the crowd, surveying the sky and the stadium as well... Bond jumped out of the helicopter, followed by the Queen, and they parasailed down to an area just outside the stadium. Yes, real parasailing people... dressed as Bond and Liz2. Really, folks, she's like 85 years old... again, a note of humor injected into what could easily be as sonorous as a Catholic wedding with full mass.
The queen herself then made her more stately entrance, along with Phillip, and of course William and Kate. The Queen was announced to the crowd, and the second part of the ceremony began. The lead in was a horde of doctors and nurses pushing beds with "patients" into the center area, representing the Greater Ormond Street Hospital, which is funded in major part by the estate of J.M. Barrie. These were in fact actual nurses and doctors from the hospital, who also volunteered their time and efforts. They pushed the self-illuminating beds in to form the smiling face and "GOSH", the hospital logo (probably visible from space) I think this also sent an unintended message to anyone who thinks "Socialized" medicine is evil... i.e. Tea Party and Republican half wits. It has worked just fine for 200 years in the UK folks. Doctors and nurses don't live in poverty, chained together like slaves, and the country is not overrun with communists and hippies.... sigh, OK, moving on...
They did a great little performance bit, with a short narrative from "Peter Pan" read by a (terrified) J.K. Rowling, then a group of baddies form English children's literature appeared; Captain Hook, the Red Queen, Voldemort.. and yay! Cruella DeVille! The children panicked until a horde of Mary Poppinseses.... Poppins's, Poppin Fresh... crap, a bunch of flying Nannies arrived on umbrellas. Nice work again rigging and flying crews! I mean, what else would you use to chase off evil? Mike Oldfield led a band performing a variant of his "Tubular Bells" under this whole segment.
That was followed by the London Symphony Orchestra, with Rowan Atkinson featured both as a pianist playing one note under the score... and getting bored so he dreams he's running in a modded clip from "Chariots of Fire".. cute, but not one of my favorite bits. Rowan can be screamingly funny, or hopelessly tedious. He was brilliant in "Black Adder". That segued into a pop culture segment with a boy and girl meeting through the medium of her lost cell phone, and featuring a medley of pop tunes from the last 40 years or so, ending with them meeting in person and kissing. Sigh. Cell phones... again. This also featured one of the best effects used in the presentation. Each seat in the stadium was equipped with an LED panel, and this allowed the entire stadium to used like a giant video wall. Remarkable effect. This was used just often enough to be compelling, not so often as to be predictable.
The torch was shown being carried on a speedboat along the Thames, driven by David Beckham. The parade of nations began, and all 204 nations had a flag bearer, who planted the flag on arrival at a designated point on the Glastonbury Tor, as well as a girl for each carrying a "copper petal", a sort of curled leaf or flower of smooth copper, about the size you would use to scoop watermelons up... I had no clue what these were for until later. The parade went by at nearly a trot; even the coverage people kept saying they had to skip notes and stuff to keep up. I think that, without the damn commercial breaks, all 204 countries entered and took their positions in under an hour. With the NBC breaks every eight minutes, it took almost half the total broadcast time.
Finally, time for the torch. Sir Steve Redgrave carried it from the Thames into the stadium where he lit a torch carried in turn by seven young athletes, all nominated by Olympians (that sounds weird), and they proceeded up to where all the copper "petals" had been laid in the center of the stadium. Each one of the seven lit their own torch from the original, then lit a spot on the outer ring of petals. Now I got to see the purpose; each petal formed a part of a ring of gas nozzles, fed through tubes they were now mounted on the ends of. Petals ignited until the entire 204 formed a gorgeous blazing ring, and then the tubes lifted up en masse to form a single unified "bowl" of flames, standing perhaps thirty feet high. Once again the theme of diversity and unification. Sir Paul McCartney was the final bit, playing "Hey Jude" and getting the stadium to sing along, and then the final, awesome, but never long enough, pyrotechnics show. Rings of fire racing about the stadium edge, firing off the Tower Bridge and seemingly all of the East End, and much of London.
I have seen a lot of posts about how this wasn't as good as Beijing, and how it was confusing, or weird, and of course how London wasn't as well organized as some guys 2002 effort. I disagree; casually with the Beijing fans. That was a spectacular show, and certainly a light year beyond Atlanta... but it had the virtue of being very ambitious, and a first. It was certainly extravagant, very carefully planned, and meticulously executed... but that was also part of its failing from my perspective. Certainly this show was just as carefully planned, and everything appeared to happen precisely when and as it was supposed to, yet the whole montage felt much looser and more playful. Certainly it embraced the rather unpredictable nature (to us barbarians) of British society. As for the other, well, I can't imagine why Romney showed up. I think the usher should have looked at the passes for Mitt and Anne and said:
"Sorry sir, These don't seem to be any good. Bit disorganized if you ask me, but what's a chap to do? Security, see these good people the exit if you please..."
The ceremony began with a video segment titled "Isles of Wonder", and began by tracing the Thames from its origin point through to the heart of London. Along the way, various classic pastoral images from the countryside began to mix with images of the high-speed rail, the subway (tubes or Underground if you prefer) and the more industrial areas along the banks. This was deftly underscored by music as varied as were the images; I heard one section that sounded like a baroque song written for Henry VIII, as well as assorted choral and pastoral music and I think some Andrew Lloyd Webber (not Cats...). As the camera got closer to London, I heard Pink Floyd (they also had a giant pig flying from a building... YAY Danny!) as well as "London Calling" by The Clash, "God Save the Queen" (in the London Underground stations) by The Sex Pistols (bold!) and some Eric Clapton, Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones, David Bowie.... and Meredith Veira couldn't help singing along a bit. Oh, some band called "The Beatles" got time as well... I loved the use of a whole gamut of music here, and the very British sly poke at its own stodgy image, using music by the Sex Pistols.
All of this ended with the lights in the stadium revealing the first part of over 10,000 volunteers from all across the United Kingdom, who played key roles in the ceremony from start to fin¬ish. This first group was 10 clusters of children holding huge balloon batches numbered 10 to 1, which burst as a group as the entire stadium counted down. This was cute but not very inspiring. I was underwhelmed, after the superb video start. Little did I know.
The British cyclist (Brad Wiggins; had to look it up) who won the Tour de France days earlier came out and rang the world's largest tuned bell, cast for the show at Whitechapel Foundry. The bell was inscribed with part of a line from Shakespeare's "The Tempest": "Be not afraid, the isle is full of noises". This was part of the underlying and unifying theme of Boyles ceremony, bringing in diverse elements of historic UK culture that influenced the whole world. After the bell was wrung, the ceremony itself began inside the stadium. The entire floor of the stadium was covered in real sod, with a small replica English village, and a towering replica of Gastonbury Tor. A 9 year old boy began singing "Jerusalem" A Capella; and American Idol/The Voice hopefuls be warned; this kid can take all of you. Hands down. From there three other choral groups each took turns, singing similarly informal anthems for Ireland, "Danny Boy", and for Scotland and Wales in turn. I don't know what those were; they were still wonderful to hear.
The pace accelerated here, and Kenneth Brannagh came out as part of a group of Victorian businessmen, ushering in the Industrial Revolution. Brannagh delivered more of the "be not afraid" speech, and as he did so the hundreds of people who were portraying villagers were joined by men and women in Victorian workers clothing. The sections of sod were rolled up and carried out, and smokestacks began to rise from the now cobblestoned and "industrial" looking flooring that had been under the sod. Workers began to forge a huge ring in the center of the stadium, and as four other rings flew in from the rim of the stadium the center ring was raised to join them, forming the linked Olympic logo. Lighting and then some excellent pyro finished that segment. If you ever want to know what a Union Stagehand Rigger does, all the flying/lifting/suspended stuff was their work. Way to go rigging crews! Amazing! I might have used Derek Jacoby instead of Kenneth Brannagh, but that's just me.
There was a silent moment to honor the men and women lost in the two World Wars, then 1000 percussionists began to play syncopated cadence led by a woman who had been deaf since the age of 11... and yeah, I had to look her name up again. Dame Evelyn Glennie. She was awesome. Drummers and aspiring drummers, watch this show. These people basically kept playing from this point in the show until the end of the Procession of Countries...... about 2 hours.
More nods, and a few winks, to elements of British society here. A parade of people dressed ala "Sgt. Pepper", some mods, a group of Daleks (I think so anyway) and the Chelsea Pensioners, an organized group of retired British military. I think they did a "set change here; hard to tell, the way NBC kept cutting away for commercials. Take a page from the BBC for these things American Television; put your advertisers in a small clump just before the event starts. If there is a planned intermission or break, stick more in there, and leave the rest for after the finale. Better still..... use sponsors, run NO ads, and let us watch the event. It's not like you would go bankrupt if you did that, what, once every two years?
So, off the soapbox. Another short video clip, which took a minute for me to catch on to. Daniel Craig as James Bond, escorting HRH to a waiting helicopter in the Buckingham Palace courtyard. Great little bit as Daniel stood in the Queens small chamber.. where she sat writing a note, her back to him.... until he very politely "coughed". She turned around to look at him a moment later, and yes, I am certain that was in fact herself, Queen Elizabeth II. The helicopter took off, becoming a CGI for a bit, until appearing above the stadium. After looking down at the crowd, surveying the sky and the stadium as well... Bond jumped out of the helicopter, followed by the Queen, and they parasailed down to an area just outside the stadium. Yes, real parasailing people... dressed as Bond and Liz2. Really, folks, she's like 85 years old... again, a note of humor injected into what could easily be as sonorous as a Catholic wedding with full mass.
The queen herself then made her more stately entrance, along with Phillip, and of course William and Kate. The Queen was announced to the crowd, and the second part of the ceremony began. The lead in was a horde of doctors and nurses pushing beds with "patients" into the center area, representing the Greater Ormond Street Hospital, which is funded in major part by the estate of J.M. Barrie. These were in fact actual nurses and doctors from the hospital, who also volunteered their time and efforts. They pushed the self-illuminating beds in to form the smiling face and "GOSH", the hospital logo (probably visible from space) I think this also sent an unintended message to anyone who thinks "Socialized" medicine is evil... i.e. Tea Party and Republican half wits. It has worked just fine for 200 years in the UK folks. Doctors and nurses don't live in poverty, chained together like slaves, and the country is not overrun with communists and hippies.... sigh, OK, moving on...
They did a great little performance bit, with a short narrative from "Peter Pan" read by a (terrified) J.K. Rowling, then a group of baddies form English children's literature appeared; Captain Hook, the Red Queen, Voldemort.. and yay! Cruella DeVille! The children panicked until a horde of Mary Poppinseses.... Poppins's, Poppin Fresh... crap, a bunch of flying Nannies arrived on umbrellas. Nice work again rigging and flying crews! I mean, what else would you use to chase off evil? Mike Oldfield led a band performing a variant of his "Tubular Bells" under this whole segment.
That was followed by the London Symphony Orchestra, with Rowan Atkinson featured both as a pianist playing one note under the score... and getting bored so he dreams he's running in a modded clip from "Chariots of Fire".. cute, but not one of my favorite bits. Rowan can be screamingly funny, or hopelessly tedious. He was brilliant in "Black Adder". That segued into a pop culture segment with a boy and girl meeting through the medium of her lost cell phone, and featuring a medley of pop tunes from the last 40 years or so, ending with them meeting in person and kissing. Sigh. Cell phones... again. This also featured one of the best effects used in the presentation. Each seat in the stadium was equipped with an LED panel, and this allowed the entire stadium to used like a giant video wall. Remarkable effect. This was used just often enough to be compelling, not so often as to be predictable.
The torch was shown being carried on a speedboat along the Thames, driven by David Beckham. The parade of nations began, and all 204 nations had a flag bearer, who planted the flag on arrival at a designated point on the Glastonbury Tor, as well as a girl for each carrying a "copper petal", a sort of curled leaf or flower of smooth copper, about the size you would use to scoop watermelons up... I had no clue what these were for until later. The parade went by at nearly a trot; even the coverage people kept saying they had to skip notes and stuff to keep up. I think that, without the damn commercial breaks, all 204 countries entered and took their positions in under an hour. With the NBC breaks every eight minutes, it took almost half the total broadcast time.
Finally, time for the torch. Sir Steve Redgrave carried it from the Thames into the stadium where he lit a torch carried in turn by seven young athletes, all nominated by Olympians (that sounds weird), and they proceeded up to where all the copper "petals" had been laid in the center of the stadium. Each one of the seven lit their own torch from the original, then lit a spot on the outer ring of petals. Now I got to see the purpose; each petal formed a part of a ring of gas nozzles, fed through tubes they were now mounted on the ends of. Petals ignited until the entire 204 formed a gorgeous blazing ring, and then the tubes lifted up en masse to form a single unified "bowl" of flames, standing perhaps thirty feet high. Once again the theme of diversity and unification. Sir Paul McCartney was the final bit, playing "Hey Jude" and getting the stadium to sing along, and then the final, awesome, but never long enough, pyrotechnics show. Rings of fire racing about the stadium edge, firing off the Tower Bridge and seemingly all of the East End, and much of London.
I have seen a lot of posts about how this wasn't as good as Beijing, and how it was confusing, or weird, and of course how London wasn't as well organized as some guys 2002 effort. I disagree; casually with the Beijing fans. That was a spectacular show, and certainly a light year beyond Atlanta... but it had the virtue of being very ambitious, and a first. It was certainly extravagant, very carefully planned, and meticulously executed... but that was also part of its failing from my perspective. Certainly this show was just as carefully planned, and everything appeared to happen precisely when and as it was supposed to, yet the whole montage felt much looser and more playful. Certainly it embraced the rather unpredictable nature (to us barbarians) of British society. As for the other, well, I can't imagine why Romney showed up. I think the usher should have looked at the passes for Mitt and Anne and said:
"Sorry sir, These don't seem to be any good. Bit disorganized if you ask me, but what's a chap to do? Security, see these good people the exit if you please..."
Friday, July 27, 2012
What's on my mind? Way too much....
OK Facebook, you put this empty box on my page that says "What's on your mind?" So here it is 2AM, and I'm wide awake, and since you asked....
1) Mitt Romney. How can anyone want him as president? He supported sending jobs overseas, at the expense of US workers.... who are now out of work. He took credit for "saving" the US Olympics in 2002... using 100 BILLION in federal funding. Foreign policy credentials? I think they are stuck on the bottom of his shoe. If you can get it out of his mouth you might be able to read them. It's a short list. If you don't like Obama, fine. If you think that the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the bank collapse and Unemployment are his fault, well, you are entitled to your opinion. I just widh you would base it on facts, not lies you get told.
2) The Tea Party. I simply fail to understand them at all. They all need to abandon the birth certificate/Muslim/Socialist talk about Obama, and admit to owning one or more of those special sets of white sheets. That is the only explanation for them I can find.
3) Anti-gun AND gun nuts. Meet in the middle you morons. It's 250 years too late to disarm the citizens; and we hae gun control laws. Put the same registration/delay/background checks on ALL guns. Police departments, stop making excuses about manpower shortages to do the background checks. There are these things called "computers", and the internet... for what you pay in overtime in one month, you could hire 12 people to do the work, and buy them new laptops. In case you hadn't noticed, there are lot of skilled workers who need jobs. Speaking of which... stop paying overtime. Hire more officers.
4) Anti-abortionist/Abortionists. Same problem, though much simpler. If you don't think abortion is right, don't get one. How dare you tell other people what they can and cannot do, when it has no effect on you or your life. I support your right to voice your opinion about it being wrong, for whatever reason. And (surprise) I support your stand that abortion is not a method of birth control. It is a medical, and a PERSONAL decision, and only the mothers final say matters. It is a hard choice for almost any woman to make; stop making it worse, and stop lying and showing false imagery. If you wave "Right to Life" signs about, then bomb a clinic or attack people, you are a hypocrite and a criminal. Period. I also want you to ask yourself this; how would you feel if you were told you could no longer go to church, or have any medical care at all? Abortion supporters; stop stirring the pot. Show the world how things really work... and stick to that process. Don't lie. Above all, if you see a girl five times in 8 months, she needs help and counseling and maybe brains... not her fifth abortion at the age of 16. (Yes. I saw TWO of these).
5) Anti gay/anti gay marriage. Again, how dare you. Do I come in to your house and tell you what to do, and what not to? Do I declare your actions immoral, and cite a "higher power" and a collection of stories, parables and dogma as my justification? I don't like basketball. I think it's boring and silly. Therefore, all basketball games are ended forever, especially since only mutants play it. If you have a hoop stuck on your roof, I will arrest you after I beat you up. If you are OK with that, go ahead and protest gay marriage and beat up gay people. I'll be over shortly.
6) American industry. Why are we so stressed all the time? Simple. Some idiot threw away everything we learned about business in the 50's and 60's, everything we learned about freedom and people since 1776, and told HR heads that profit sharing was bad, and merit increases, and Cost of Living... then they got bean counters to go along, and present numbers showing how much more profit could be made if workers were expected to be there 50 to 60 hours a week, and get paid for only 40. Workers should also take time off from work if they are sick... but if you are sick too often, because you are over-stressed, you get a black mark. If our business model is so much better, why aren't all the other countries bankrupt, and buying American products because it's the only stuff that works?
7) Health care. It's not "Obamacare". Knock that off. It's also not "socialist medicine". Unless Hawaii is a socialist country hiding as a US state... same for Canada, and Japan, and.... here is the problem. Doctors work too many hours a week, and surgeons even more. So they get paid absurd salaries. Over $450,000.00 a year for a proctologist in California. Really? OK, I would have to paid a lot to look at thousands of them a year... wait, I watch TV, and Congress is on TV along with Michelle Bachmann, Sarah Palin, Rush Limbaugh, Dr. Phil.... time to send the networks a bill. Oh. Anyway... so doctors are overpaid and overworked. So are nurses; overworked, that is. Hospitals charge outrageous amounts above cost for everything. Example: I was charged $30.00 for surgical tape. They used about three feet. A roll is 50 yards, and costs $7.00 at Walgreens. Other charges are also inflated. The biggest cost to hospitals, doctors, nurses? Insurance. The insurance agencies are double dipping, and we keep allowing it. We get our costs raised "because of rising health care costs" which are in turn increased by the same insurers raising rates to medical professionals. I for one would cheer wildly for a complete socialist takeover of health care at this point.
Put me in charge for a year. All insurance rates would be cut by 50%, no doctor or nurse would work over 40 hours in one week or 8 hours in one day, fewer mistakes would be made in treatment and surgery, and medical care would be based on you and your doctors choices, not an actuary's tables. Police would have sufficient numbers to do their jobs without overtime and huge pensions; same for firefighters. Politicians would be given a mandatory 10% pay cut for each year they failed to balance the budget in a timely manner, and allowed unchecked greed and corruption to ruin our economy and our way of life. And no one, NO ONE, would be expected to sacrifice their time and their personal pleasures to earn a living. 40 hours work, 40 hours pay. Vacations. Raises. Health care.
The unemployment ranks would dwindle, as many would find themselves with new jobs and careers, and the only people out of work would be the parasitic, grasping, self-involved so called leaders and "captains of industry" and career politicians who represent not the people, but the lobbyists and financial backers.
There, maybe now I can sleep. Write me in when you vote in November... wouldn't THAT be a wakeup call to Washington. "Who? The president is who? Where the hell did HE come from????"
1) Mitt Romney. How can anyone want him as president? He supported sending jobs overseas, at the expense of US workers.... who are now out of work. He took credit for "saving" the US Olympics in 2002... using 100 BILLION in federal funding. Foreign policy credentials? I think they are stuck on the bottom of his shoe. If you can get it out of his mouth you might be able to read them. It's a short list. If you don't like Obama, fine. If you think that the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the bank collapse and Unemployment are his fault, well, you are entitled to your opinion. I just widh you would base it on facts, not lies you get told.
2) The Tea Party. I simply fail to understand them at all. They all need to abandon the birth certificate/Muslim/Socialist talk about Obama, and admit to owning one or more of those special sets of white sheets. That is the only explanation for them I can find.
3) Anti-gun AND gun nuts. Meet in the middle you morons. It's 250 years too late to disarm the citizens; and we hae gun control laws. Put the same registration/delay/background checks on ALL guns. Police departments, stop making excuses about manpower shortages to do the background checks. There are these things called "computers", and the internet... for what you pay in overtime in one month, you could hire 12 people to do the work, and buy them new laptops. In case you hadn't noticed, there are lot of skilled workers who need jobs. Speaking of which... stop paying overtime. Hire more officers.
4) Anti-abortionist/Abortionists. Same problem, though much simpler. If you don't think abortion is right, don't get one. How dare you tell other people what they can and cannot do, when it has no effect on you or your life. I support your right to voice your opinion about it being wrong, for whatever reason. And (surprise) I support your stand that abortion is not a method of birth control. It is a medical, and a PERSONAL decision, and only the mothers final say matters. It is a hard choice for almost any woman to make; stop making it worse, and stop lying and showing false imagery. If you wave "Right to Life" signs about, then bomb a clinic or attack people, you are a hypocrite and a criminal. Period. I also want you to ask yourself this; how would you feel if you were told you could no longer go to church, or have any medical care at all? Abortion supporters; stop stirring the pot. Show the world how things really work... and stick to that process. Don't lie. Above all, if you see a girl five times in 8 months, she needs help and counseling and maybe brains... not her fifth abortion at the age of 16. (Yes. I saw TWO of these).
5) Anti gay/anti gay marriage. Again, how dare you. Do I come in to your house and tell you what to do, and what not to? Do I declare your actions immoral, and cite a "higher power" and a collection of stories, parables and dogma as my justification? I don't like basketball. I think it's boring and silly. Therefore, all basketball games are ended forever, especially since only mutants play it. If you have a hoop stuck on your roof, I will arrest you after I beat you up. If you are OK with that, go ahead and protest gay marriage and beat up gay people. I'll be over shortly.
6) American industry. Why are we so stressed all the time? Simple. Some idiot threw away everything we learned about business in the 50's and 60's, everything we learned about freedom and people since 1776, and told HR heads that profit sharing was bad, and merit increases, and Cost of Living... then they got bean counters to go along, and present numbers showing how much more profit could be made if workers were expected to be there 50 to 60 hours a week, and get paid for only 40. Workers should also take time off from work if they are sick... but if you are sick too often, because you are over-stressed, you get a black mark. If our business model is so much better, why aren't all the other countries bankrupt, and buying American products because it's the only stuff that works?
7) Health care. It's not "Obamacare". Knock that off. It's also not "socialist medicine". Unless Hawaii is a socialist country hiding as a US state... same for Canada, and Japan, and.... here is the problem. Doctors work too many hours a week, and surgeons even more. So they get paid absurd salaries. Over $450,000.00 a year for a proctologist in California. Really? OK, I would have to paid a lot to look at thousands of them a year... wait, I watch TV, and Congress is on TV along with Michelle Bachmann, Sarah Palin, Rush Limbaugh, Dr. Phil.... time to send the networks a bill. Oh. Anyway... so doctors are overpaid and overworked. So are nurses; overworked, that is. Hospitals charge outrageous amounts above cost for everything. Example: I was charged $30.00 for surgical tape. They used about three feet. A roll is 50 yards, and costs $7.00 at Walgreens. Other charges are also inflated. The biggest cost to hospitals, doctors, nurses? Insurance. The insurance agencies are double dipping, and we keep allowing it. We get our costs raised "because of rising health care costs" which are in turn increased by the same insurers raising rates to medical professionals. I for one would cheer wildly for a complete socialist takeover of health care at this point.
Put me in charge for a year. All insurance rates would be cut by 50%, no doctor or nurse would work over 40 hours in one week or 8 hours in one day, fewer mistakes would be made in treatment and surgery, and medical care would be based on you and your doctors choices, not an actuary's tables. Police would have sufficient numbers to do their jobs without overtime and huge pensions; same for firefighters. Politicians would be given a mandatory 10% pay cut for each year they failed to balance the budget in a timely manner, and allowed unchecked greed and corruption to ruin our economy and our way of life. And no one, NO ONE, would be expected to sacrifice their time and their personal pleasures to earn a living. 40 hours work, 40 hours pay. Vacations. Raises. Health care.
The unemployment ranks would dwindle, as many would find themselves with new jobs and careers, and the only people out of work would be the parasitic, grasping, self-involved so called leaders and "captains of industry" and career politicians who represent not the people, but the lobbyists and financial backers.
There, maybe now I can sleep. Write me in when you vote in November... wouldn't THAT be a wakeup call to Washington. "Who? The president is who? Where the hell did HE come from????"
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