Wanderlust Kings

I have begun to feel that the adventurous mind is a diseased mind. The adventurer sacrifices safety and comfort for the perilous, often dangerous. They seek to pit themselves against odds stacked against them, they like to walk as close to death as possible and come back to share the story. How then can such people be thought of as reasonable, even cultured. Of course there are many types of adventurer, there are the mad, the vainglorious, the courageous, the list could go on and on. However it is the willingness in most to strive beyond normal goals that makes them so intriguing.

Of course fame and privilege is a powerful motivating factor in many such people, they will only leave their doorstep if it means they will come back with money in hand. I am more interested in the people who trek without expectation of reward or recognition, they plunge head first into the wild places to see them. Though now we live in a culture that thinks that adventuring is a cathartic process, meant to be an almost religious experience, a person communing with nature. I don't like that idea, when I explore a new place I look at it in wonderment, I marvel and consider who went before me. To hope for an afterlife for myself would be to surrender to the possibility that I can see all of this when I am dead, to put off what I should do in this life for another, to surrender to the fear of the unknown.

I am so badly inflicted with this disease, this need to explore I am certain it would be the death of me in any other time. If a person suggests that a passage is impossible I will be the first to volunteer to conquer it. Is it though, conquering, do I seek to subjugate, or control what is deemed beyond me? I think I want to show the limitless potential of humanity, a path deemed unworkable has its way, we need only apply ourselves to it. I burn with the desire to shuffle off the trappings of society, the pathetic joke that is 'modern life' for the places rarely seen, the mile just beyond the horizon.

Perhaps this isn't a disease, a corruption of thought. Perhaps the explorer isn't a vestigial part of society, in a world downloadable to a desk top. Perhaps we simply too keenly feel the need human urge to learn, to know. I want to see the world, but not as a tourist, I wish to see the peoples and culture, I wish to understand their society and their history, swim in their lives and envision their history. I am not the Victorian explorer, I can't judge the lives of those I meet by my own standards. We cannot discriminate against the cannibals and naked peoples of the Amazon or East Asia. We are only worthy of viewing it, containing our fear or misunderstanding and returning to the world and informing. I want to fill in the blank spaces on the map, though non are left, they are the holes in my map, my understanding of this world. I want to see the crown jewels of Europe, the seats of Empires long laid to waste by time and environment. I wish to pass through the deserts of Arabia, to feel the blistering heat of the Nefud, so I can understand what it meant to those who would dare to have done it. I wish to see the decadence of the oil barons, their poor hidden from the rich contractors, man made islands, like Ozymandias warning against the desire to be timeless. I want to see the spice markets of India, the open sewers, and the jungles in the north that hid the Thugee from British view. Nepal, Burma, Vietnam, Hong Kong and Ulanbatar. I want to ride a train into Siberia, and ponder on the Romanov's, visiting Moscow I would look for black cats and checkered suits. Africa, the jungles and gorillas, the booming diamond industry, the crushing debt and fear of witchcraft. Name the town and I wish to see it, no matter how small or far removed ask me to go there for a day and I will, so that I can tell the world what lies just outside their border.

The rainbow array of flags, tied to the mountains, when each one blows away a wish is granted. Gold hammered day and night into thin strips to be applied to statues of the Buddha. the bones of Saints and pieces of the 'true cross, in reliquaries, thousands passing by in reverence. Xingu tribesman, sitting in a canoe, fishing with a string and hook, a trick they learned from a dead Englishman eighty years ago, they store the catch in ceramic pots, identical to ones they made seven thousand years ago. I am desperate to not read these stories, you cannot hope to ever know it all, but knowing even a fraction of what it means to see the sun rising over Alexandria, Tokyo, Kinshasa or the Mato Grosso can sustain a soul their whole life. The search is endless, the empty space in a persons knowledge can never truly be filled, but it is the journey that makes it worthwhile.

I cannot be one of those who satisfies themselves with stories, with imagined empires, I cannot sustain my being with mere illusions as so many do, with games, movies, half hearted promises. I fear I will burst if contained too long without the road before me, locked in a job, locked in a life not even worth contemplating. I live only in fear that I will never leave these shores, or that if I do, I will never come back to tell my story to my close few friends who would care to hear it. i sit now, looking out the window at the trees, blowing in the wind. In my mind I am floating past them, over them, looking forward, traversing the miles in seconds. Rushing over everything, taking it in and I am seeing the world fly by, the people, the animals, the rugged mountains and soft green hills. Yet I am here, and must remain here, with this one tree. To me now, the rest of the world is as distant as the Moon, visible, but too far to touch, to see the powdery silt of its surface fall through my hand and fall like a microscopic snow. This is the anguish of an explorer, to know that there is a beyond, but to not have the means to attain it. It is what brought Walter Raleigh to the executioners block, it sent Magellan to his death at the hands of natives, it guided Percy Fawcett to his unmarked tomb in the Amazon. So it is for the explorer, let the mind perish with inactivity, or send the body to perish in pursuit of the next horizon.

I am not an ordinary man.

A Car/Fighter Plane Dilemma

So in the coming weeks I hope to be getting a motor car, with which I intend on motoring places. It occurred to me after a genial discussion of fixing HUD's to dashboards to reflect onto the drivers window that I may want to have a themed vehicle (though of a slightly more extravagant variety) So then I decided I wished to use the details of a fighter plane from the 'great' World War II, but the question arose of which one? So after much internal debate I will offer up to you, my three+ readers to decide. Naturally I will show you the details of both planes to assist in your decision.




First off we have the British made 'Supermarine Spitfire', my original choice to use for the car.

The color scheme would be maintained over the body of the car, including air group lettering behind the passenger and driver side doors. The hubcaps would also bear the concentric circles representing the Royal air Group as seen on the wing and fuselage.

However there would be an anachronistic element added to the car for effect. I would include the mouth displayed here on a P-40 Warhawk, over the wheel well.

Quiet stylish wouldn't you say?

Now then, that would be the sum total of the work done to the car if I decide to go with the Spitfire. We must now look at my other option, the Japanese A6M 'Zero' fighter plane.

This particular design is from mid war, land based Zero's, as opposed to the solid green or silver ones from carrier groups. So in this case the body of the car would have a similar pattern, with a grayish strip running along the bottom. The large Rising Sun would replace the concentric circles on the Spitfire car. Beyond the detailing for the design I would also go a step further and add a bit of detailing like this.

The whitish areas at the front of the craft, and leading wing edge are areas of wear and tear. On the car these would be created using a silver "undercoat" of paint that would be slowly covered by the actual aerial camouflage.

Now then, the biggest problem we face is not so much, which looks better, but what will people think under specific circumstances. With the British made Spitfire, there is really no considerations made as to what the car represents, but with the Zero we have war crimes and senseless brutality and aggression. The only reason the zero is a possibility is that we here in America have short memories when it comes to the Japanese War. We ignore the brutality in a way, but still cling to our loathing of Nazi's. Anyway, that's beside the point, the Mitsubishi A6M Reisen was a great plane, and had an interesting design element.

It is thus that i have placed a poll up on the right hand panel, it will close in a week, and the winning plane will be my eventual design scheme for the car. So please vote, if you have any other ideas list them, mind you I will ignore fighter jets, because I hate them.

God Damned Auto Safety Fuckers!

So I happened across a news article today, a little piece (of shit, if you looked at my title) of reporting about small cars and safety. Just reading the tag line lets you know what this article is all about. Basically it says that this not-for-profit Insurance Institute for Highway Safety has done a few tests on all the fuel efficient small cars on the road and has determined them to be death traps, designed to enclose the driver in a metal cage, then hurl them into razor sharp spikes. Those ballsy motherfuckers at Honda have been trying to kill us for years and now we have the proof. Oh wait, I sense something, perhaps there is an ulterior motive behind an independent study, done by a specialty group, against a class of vehicle with stunning findings.

At this point I am used to this, I haven't had the unwavering faith to trust any "independent investigation" that claims to have stunning evidence of such and such bullshit. You see in the past 8, hell 20 years it has become the norm to have these not-for-profit companies created, then funded privately by certain groups, with certain interests, and then the group creates a series of tests or an investigation and voila, you have tailor made numbers for whatever pet crusade you adhere to.

So too with this.

You see the report says that in testing car safety, automotive companies only apply industry standards, but do not test for certain outlying problems, which for them is what happens when you hurls a Dodge Ram at a smart car? Now mind you the smart car will usually get wrecked, but the driver generally will walk away. This is not the study that they are performing, they are hurling larger vehicles, head on at an already speeding smart car, at speeds that most accidents of the type they are depicting don't occur at. The result of the findings then are shocking because they reveal that everyone in the smart car is dead and the medium to large SUV's are coming out tip top. Never mind the fact that it is exceptionally rare to have two cars driving DIRECTLY AT EACH OTHER AT FORTY MILES AN HOUR, with both drivers avoiding stopping or turning. What we have is a company playing chicken. Now they say that because the smart car can't stand such force it is inherently much more dangerous than the SUV. They ask you to please ignore the fact that most of us don't play chicken while hopped up on 'ludes. Their recommendations for the problem are to beef up small cars, into more medium sized cars, and to not fall for all that bullshit about 'green' this and 'peak oil' that.

So basically this article is character assassination against all the small cars that are coming out, and which are being pushed for to change our shitty shitty environment for the better. Now when I read this I had to stop and consider who did it, a group of independent insurance companies, all trying to get the best results. Well, I decided to dig a bit deeper, because why would these particular insurance companies be actively throwing a wrench in the gears of vehicles that, if they become the norm, will probably be safer, and cost them less money to pay for if they explode, after a hummer rams them at 100 mph.

Well, a quick review determined that one of the board of directors, Mr. Gary Kusumi, works for GMAC insurance group, an insurance company whose purpose is to provide coverage to large SUV's, motor homes and high end off road vehicles, you know, the good guys from the articles. So in effect you have a slightly partisan fellow directing the company, and Christ knows where the funding for the study came from.

Naturally the IIHS sent out notices to all the companies that make the cars they tested, Toyota, and Honda (do I smell a GMC conspiracy?) to which the quality and safety communications manager for Honda sent a letter back to the press, "The IIHS test is equivalent to an 80-mph closing speed (with opposing vehicles traveling at 40 mph), a speed and energy higher than 99.1% of all real-world crashes," fun. Also Honda pointed out that the tests also depicted "unusual or extreme conditions", so yeah, seems kind of like this was just a series of tests to start turning public opinion against cheap smart cars, and more towards slightly more expensive American medium to large cars.

I mean seriously people, I hate shit like this, I should make a company that tests large cars for safety. I'll drop nuclear subs on them, then point out how they were unable to stand up to the force of impact against large objects. Or better yet, I'll take a SUV, and then launch baseballs at it, at 1,000 mph, then show unequivocally that small projectile, possibly kicked up from the road, will impale your car, and cut you in half. Fuck you independent studies, you can all eat a bag of dicks.




God damn you all to hell!

History! April 24th + Time and Space

Well at least one thing that happened in the past was interesting today. however here's something that has always intrigued me, time and space. You see I love history, and the thought that at a point in time in a certain place something happened where real living people, with lives and plans met and something happened. Naturally then I have an interest in the idea of traveling through time. Now then, that's slightly complicated when I think about it, and it's something I've never really noticed explained or considered in time travel fiction, that thing being your 'place' in time. You see the Earth isn't just spinning around the Sun in space, the whole solar system is also moving and spinning, so where we are now is not where we were a thousand years ago, dig? This creates for me a concern, if you drop me off at a vector in space, at a point in time, wont I be dropped off gasping in the void, even if the Earth is relatively close by even an error of a few miles or minutes could kill me in horrible ways. So then, if you have heard someone speak about this issue please raise your hand, I would love to know the solution.

So, lets get back to the point, History!

1184, the Greeks use the Trojan horse to enter the city of Troy, where they go batshit insane and kill everyone, 'cuz that's how the Greeks roll.

Go get 'em lads.

1558, Mary Queen of Scots marries the Dauphin of France at Notre Dame, afterwards she pleasantly remarks "Man, could life get any better? There is no way I'm getting decapitated the way things are going."

1800 the Library of Congress is founded, John Adams told congress he needed 5,000 dollars to buy all the books Congress could potentially need. After that initial investment was burned in the War of 1812 Thomas Jefferson supplied the replacements, because he pretty much owned every book in North America, not that he found time to read between writing pamphlets and being a dick to his slaves. Now the Library of Congress has millions of books, all at the disposal of our legislative body, in case they need them to understand government, for example I'm certain the epic political tome "Are You There God, It's Me Margaret" is a favorite amongst representatives.

Dashed bad luck that.

1898, Aww shit, President McKinley gets his wish and America declares war on Spain. So today marks the beginning of the Spanish American War, this being like the fourth completely unnecessary American war, right after the War of 1812, the Mexican/American War (However I do like living in California, thank you Polk), the Indian Wars, and of course now this shit. McKinley wanted an excuse to flex Americas muscles and show the world it was hot shit and that everyone needed to be nervous. At the same time Teddy Roosevelt (a rival and major nuisance to McKinley) was all hot and bothered by the prospect of a war that he could be in. So we marched off and beat the ever loving snot out of Spain, a country that hadn't had a good day since the Armada got blown of course in the 17th century. Roosevelt incidentally beat so much ass that America fell in love with him, and to keep him from getting his hands into government McKinley offered him the vice presidency when he ran for re-election. This was of course a brilliant stroke, because vice presidents can't do dick, and they usually fade from the spotlight as a result, that is until you get assassinated by Leon Czolgosz (pronounced Sholgosh).

Oh look at them laugh.

1915, we see the beginning of the Armenian Genocide, which according to earlier ads from Turkey on my home page, never happened. Yeah right Turkey, like I believe you at all.

1916, the Easter uprising begins, wherein Patrick Pearse, James Connolly, and Joseph Plunkett all start gettin' up in the faces of the hated British in Ireland. I recommend you all now go and listen to as many Irish nationalist tunes as you can find.

1918, in the now dwindling World War I we see the first tank to tank combat of the war, when three British Mark IV's ran into three German A7V's...the fight was probably really confusing and boring, here's the contestants...

That just screams Britain doesn't it, like a big 'ole pot of stew, in a pub with a bulldog squattin' in a corner licking his unmentionables.

Well, isn't that just so...efficient? No wonder you lost the war, you built toaster ovens instead of tanks.

1926, the Treaty of Berlin is signed, it says that Germany and Russia wont go to war for five years if a third party starts shit, you know, if the cause of World War I happens all over again, 'cuz everyone just stone jonesin' for a fight. Never mind that the thing you should be really worried about is the crippling economic conditions or the annoying guy shaking his fists and screaming about Jews.

1953, Winston Churchill is knighted by the Queen. Really, not you know, after the war, like the week it ended...'53? What was it even for the war, or did you just give him the knighthood because he gave you a really cool record player as a birthday present. I mean Christ, he's so fuckin' British he owns that pub with the bulldog licking itself. He calls it the Freckled Dick, the pub, not the dog.

1967, Cosmonaut Vladimir Komarov dies on the Soyuz 1 when his parachute doesn't open. This is the first human to die on a space mission. America, insulted that they lost this particular honor in the space race promptly kills all the astronauts in the Apollo 1, with fire, because that's more brutal than just falling to your death, when there's so much pure oxygen in your spaceship that a static shock will blow your ass to kingdom come. Way to go, America number 1.

2005, we got our new shitty Pope, you know the one who looks like Emperor Palpatine.

Feel the power of this fully armed and operational Vatican.

Random Article! 4/23/09

So history was slow today, unless you love Turkish succession issues or the minor battles in Spain (pre renaissance). Naturally with such a void I will have to create a new feature, with which to exercise my wit, or lack thereof. So now i am proud to introduce the "Random Article" feature, in which I hit the random article button on wikipedia and discuss the topic I get. Now this may get boring really fast, I once spent ten minutes hitting that button and got nothing but s steady stream of soccer teams and soccer competitions from around the world. I'm pretty sure wikipedia is 70% soccer related material.
So lets countdown to a new feature in...
5...
4...
3...
2...
1...
Liftoff (this is ground control to Major Tom)

HAHA FUCK!
(Today's article)Tiefland(elcitrtA syadoT)

So this article is about a movie directed, scripted, produced and starring Leni Riefenstahl. You probably don't know Leni, here's a picture, of her, next to another sporty chap who is not Charlie Chaplin. Alright, so Leni was a Nazi, and may have made a little movie called "Triumph of the Will" about how Nazi supermen are our superiors. Real classy lady.

The film is based on a play with the same name, Leni here decided to write a little script in '34, but didn't actually start production till '40, wrapping in '44. Even then it wasn't until 1954 that it was released. This was the last full length film she directed and starred in.

So lets break down the plot for all of you out there...

Wait, reviewing the plot now is confusing the hell out of me, lets try this anyway...

Pedro is a loser, who herds sheep in the Pyrenees (mountains between France and Spain) he awakes to find a Wolf just stone killin' his sheep, so he summons what energy he can to choke the bitch wolf out. Mind you I think that Pedro here represents the Monarchists, and the wolf Nazi airmen assisting the Fascists, but then again it doesn't because if that were the case Leni would have the wolf eat Pedro while efficiently doing gymnastics like a spaz. Anyway, in the lowlands a little community is getting its ass handed to it by a rich land owner named Don Sebastian. The Don, as his friends call him, has built a canal that is depriving his people of water for food, but is making his prized bulls very happy? Is that really a good reason to build a canal, do the bulls even notice? who will pay rent when everyone is dead from starvation? Anyway, the peasants are all like "Please don't starve us!" and Don replies with a chortle "No way, my bulls need to be all jazzed up, before I kill them with swords in a completely fair fight." However Don does have a serious problem, he is broke and owes some people money, apparently he's engaged to a woman named Amelia, who is wealthy and totally grossed out by his shit eating grin, so he does the smart thing and takes a local "beggar dancer" (a common job in Spain), Martha, and locks her in a golden cage at his 'pad'. She dances for his amusement, like people do, and begs him to stop killing his peasants. Naturally he says no, because seriously, why get out of debt by charging rent for the land you have all these peasants on, hell sell a bull you douche. So Martha runs away where she meets Pedro (Spains premier wolf throttler), but Don finds her and brings her back. Now deeply in trouble with his bookies he arranges to marry Amelia (because she changed her mind or some shit), but he also wants Martha, so he marries Martha off to Pedro, and gives Pedro a mill to live at, so he knows where to find his fuck buddy Martha. Well Martha fucking hates this plan and gets all up on Pedro's case for being a party to this ridiculous affair, to which Pedro responds "Uh, I love you, so that's kind of why i let him marry me off to you." Martha is all like "Bawwww", when suddenly Don walks in looking for something to fuck. Pedro uses his mad skills and chokes Don to death and then he and Martha go and live in the mountains, choking wolves by day and having dirty 'beggar dancer' sex at night.

Now the details of making this masterpiece, this triumph of the will, if you will. Leni wrote it in 1934, but she got involved in propaganda film making right about when the war started, so that really sidetracked her. Wikipedia says that she was disturbed by atrocities and didn't want to make any more propoganda films (I frankly have no clue, I prefer painting her a s a total Nazi). So she made her own film company, using her clout as 'Hitlers Favorite'. So she spent years making this film on location, facing numerous set backs, Goebbels was all like "WTF, why does Hitler dig on you so much?" For example Leni couldn't find an actress to play Martha, so she simply took the role. the major problem with that is the fact that she was 40 at the time and Pedro (as played by a guy named Franz) was 23, way to rob the cradle 'beggar dancer'.

Of course there's controversy too. Apparently the villagers used in background shots were Italian gypsies, selected from internment camps, hand chosen by Riefenstahl. Now this isn't the half of it, apparently once shooting wrapped for those scenes they were promptly deported to Auschwitz, there's a feel good hit if I ever heard of one, "Tiefland, 3 out of five cast members dead in the Holocaust". Also it says that James Cameron's shitberg Titanic echoes Tiefland in many ways, this makes James Cameron a Nazi in my book,so you better watch out Cameron, I'm on to you.

So I hope you enjoyed this first installment of "RANDOM ARTICLE", I'll see you the next time there's nothing good on this day in history.

Stuff I Find to Eat...II

So I suppose since I earlier suggested that whenever I find things to eat at work I should list it i guess I should explain what I found today.

Whilst cruising round the western tributaries of the office I happened upon an interesting collection of tin foil wrapped sundries. One appeared to be small cookies, roughly the diameter of a nickel, and writ above them an undecipherable foreign language. Deeming the writing to be Middle Eastern in origin I happily opened the lift to the tin foil container, reading the words in English further down the package "Rice Cookies". Plucking one from its nest I ate it whole, hoping to be surprised, but unfortunately the cookie was unsatisfactory. It exploded into dust in my mouth, and was sugary in a bad way. I set my eyes upon the next container, labeled in farmers English "Baklava", I was enthused as i had never had baklava before and it looked decidedly edible. Opening the lid I took the tiniest of pieces, not wanting to disturb the overall ambiance of the display, nor arose suspicion if the previous owner had measured the dimensions of their pastry. Placing the small bit in my mouth I discovered that it was quite delicious, but also that since its packaging suggested an Eastern European version of Sam's Club as its original home, then real fresh baklava must be even better.

Swinging back around to the East side of the office I happened across a half eaten chocolate cake, as well as an enormous bag of off-off brand tortilla chips. I decided to grab three chips and return later for cake. Leaving the area I happened across a bag of chocolate gold coins, taking one from the twenty or so in the bag I finished my patrol. With the main part of my evening complete I returned to the cake and took a small piece for myself. At my desk i sat to eat it, pleased that I hadn't had to rummage through garbage to get any food, but disappointed that everything was a 10 on the sweet scale. Unfortunately the cake was poorly made and used almond oil. This is the bane of my pastry world, it's often found in cheaply made cakes and buns at places like Albertson's and Safeway, the flavor created by almond oil, or almond extract as it is sometimes referred to on the labeling is one akin to 'artificial cherry'. Now if you have known me for upwards of ten minutes then you have probably heard me decry the evils of cherry. Cherries are the devil, when you put them in your mouth you are making a contract with Satan to buy a timeshare in Tobago. Don't fuckin' do it.

This meant that the cake was by and large rather disgusting, with its god damned artificial flavors, what happened America, is real chocolate in my cake to good for you. The cake is a lie.

History! April 16!

So today we have more history, and a guaranteed visit from a Kate Beaton strip. So if you don't like Kate Beaton, you'd better get the fuck outta the way.



73 AD, Masada falls to the Romans. You may know Masada, it was a Jewish stronghold during the Jewish Revolt in the Holy Land. The reason you may know Masada is that the history channel carts it's antiquated ass out all the time show the amazing skills the Romans had for sieges. Also, in case you were wondering, the Romans won.



1746, the battle of Culloden is fought between the Scottish Jacobite Rebels and the holier than though British. the Scots had been toiling under Hanoverian British rule for some time now and were rather hoping to restore one of their Stuart monarchs to the throne. So one of the rightful heirs to the Scottish/English throne was Charles Stuart, known to his friends as Bonnie Prince Charlie, or 'The Young Pretender', not to be confused with his father 'The Old Pretender', or the Freddy Mercury cover of 'The Great Pretender'.



Charlie raised an army of Scottish rebels (called Jacobites) and defeated the British Army in Scotland, failing however in the long run to defeat the garrison in Edinburgh. Mind you many Scottish people at the time weren't particularly enthused by the prospect of another rebellion, they had had quite a few and they usually ended with everyone dead. So to assuage the fears (most people steal Shakespeare quotes, I steal Lincoln) of the rebel army and the locals Charlie explains that "We are going to get help! Yes, tonnes of help from the British Jacobites, what you've never heard of them, well...they're a silent majority in England and with this excellent news that I won they will rise up! Oh, and also the French will invade! They have nothing better to do right?" So the army marches along happily waiting for a force of French troops to come briskly to England and start kicking ass, never mind the whole "ENGLAND RULES THE WAVES" thing. Well Charlie marched South and moved ever closer to London and King George II, but trouble was comin' for him. Charles was informed that the French invasion fleet was still being organized, that the garrison in London outnumbered him by 1,000, plus cavalry, and that there were two separate armies headed his way, one led by George's son, the Duke of Cumberland and another led by George Wade. There were also spurious rumours that another army was flanking them, but this was fiction. Oh yeah, and those awesome English Jacobites, they never came forward, but more highlanders were beginning to mass in Scotland to join up when he returned.



Charlie decided then (with deep resentment, because he's an idiot) to hand over command to Lord George Murray, who says "Let's go home and see if we can actually win this rebellion." Well the Army headed north and kept getting harassed by British troops, as well as lack of footwear (all that marching really wears holes in your shoes made of paper). Cumberland arrives in Edinburgh and tells everyone "Listen up, I'm in charge up here, so we're going to head to Aberdeen and train, then go and kill us some wild Scots." After the cheering died down they went and did this. Charlie, being the prick he is, demanded that the army be placed back under his control, he wanted to fight a defensive action against Cumberland.



So lets look at the two armies shall we? First off we have the Jacobites, an army comprised of Scottish clans. these clan based regiments bore the name of their originating family, and were led by officers from that clan, while the soldiers were all people who were tenants of the clans land. Generally to get the men to fight you had to be at the front of the ranks, which naturally meant an enormously high mortality rate for officers in the Jacobite army, so I suppose leadership was one of their biggest problems.



On the other side we have the British Army, a well trained constantly mobile, brutally efficient fighting force. I mean Christ, for most of the campaign the Scots had pitchforks and axes instead of guns.



Onto the battle! So Today in History Charles decides that it's best to organize his men in a flat marshy area near Culloden. The one tactic that made the Scots dangerous was their feared 'Highland Charge' which primarily involved enormous bearded men running at break neck speed down a hill with swords until either they were dead, or the other guy was. So fighting on pock marked flat terrain was the antithesis of what a person in charge of 7,000 Scots would want to do. The council of war asked Charles to 'please reconsider, we could fight a guerrilla campaign' to which Charles flatly refused 'No bitches, this Cumberland be all up in my shit!'



So how did the battle go? Well the British stood around with long range guns and picked off highlanders, until of course Charlie demanded a charge. So now the already beleaguered Scots moved towards the murderous fire, until finally bloody and beaten they retreated. So in total some 2,000 Scots were killed in the fighting and retreat, oh, and Charlie, he fled the battle quick as a bunny and made his way East towards Skye. The British lost 50 men, bummer for the Highlands.



Charles made good his escape from Scotland and returned to France deciding it was against his best interest to ever come back. Meanwhile the now totally pissed off British proceeded to put the screws to the Highlands, raiding family residences and searching for signs of rebels. it was straight up Star Wars in Scotland after that, except I guess Luke goes back to Tatooine in this one. Now here's your comic...


Alright lets carry on then, oh and visit harkavagrant.com




1917, Lenin rolls on into Petrograd after his exile in Switzerland, looks like shits about to hit the fan in Russia!




1943 Dr. Albert Hofmann discovers that LSD makes you turn into a Ralph Steadman painting.




1947, the term "Cold War" is coined, and thank heavens, the runner up was "A War Where Neither of Us Shoots Because We're Afraid of Causing An Apocalypse".




1990, Dr. Kevorkian does his first assisted suicide, fun times.

The Great Race!

What's that, you don't know this film? Well you should watch it! Because if you don't you probably won't understand what this is all about, but then again this isn't actually about the film "The Great Race" it's about another race.

Apparently for the last few years there has been a race going on, which I have not been made aware of, and which by my understanding would be precisely the kind of race that I would expect to be involved in. In essence this is an event or activity that is essentially me, an adventure so intriguing that I feel compelled to find a way to make it happen.

The race is called the Mongol Rally, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mongol_Rally, and it appears to be perfect in execution. You select what is described as a "crappy car" and arrive in Hyde Park in London. When the flag drops and the 200 contestants "go" as it were, you begin a trek to Ulan Bator in Mongolia. There is no route, no plans, just people all trying to make it there in one piece. Some take routes through Istanbul, others have gone to the top of the world to try and make it. Many racers are forced to quit, and once you've arrived your car is left and given to the government of Mongolia to use as it needs.

Imagine the adventures that await you, you begin huddled in your dilapidated hunk of junk, held together by duct tape and glue then speed off over uncertain roads and strange vistas. No guides, no plans, no rules except get there!

Apparently the whole thing is organized by this company, http://www.theadventurists.com/index.php

Who although being something akin to an "organization" have what sounds like my kind of philosophy. There isn't a competition on there I could think of that I wouldn't want to try. these are the things dreams are made of, harrowing pursuits for fortune and glory, dusty places better left untrod, unexpected events and unlikely scenes.

Standing astride the mountains of mundane thumb biting mollycoddles I would stretch my legs and take long bounding steps in fine pin striped slacks and immaculately polished boots. Brushing the heads of the common crowds, content to watch their prime time TV my black frock coat would catch the breeze and direct me like sail. Perched crookedly on my brow a top hat, to let everyone know that this was not a gentleman to be taken with a grain of salt, oh no! This was an extraordinary gentleman with extraordinary plans! People would look to me and swatting at malaria infected mosquitoes, their t-shirts clinging to their backs and say "What's this, the ghost of an adventurer! Isn't he hot under all that wool?!" and I would stoop to greet them, my filthy Fiat rumbling behind me and I would toff my hat to them and say "Never hot! To be hot is to be nervous, to be nervous is to have lost faith in the adventure! Here my good men, take a sup of water, my treat." and before they had time to eek out a 'thank you' I am gone in a cloud of dirt and the sound of distant brass bands.

Deaths...

Today in history, 1,500 people died on the Titanic including her Captain Edward Smith.
Abraham Lincoln died across the street from Ford's Theatre in a boarding house bed.
Gaston Leroux, author of the Phantom of the Opera died from a urinary tract infection.
Jean Paul Sartre, famed French philosopher died from an oedema of the lung.
Pol Pot, feared Cambodian dictator died under house arrest.
Joey Ramone passed away from lymphatic cancer, at the hospital he listened to "In A Little While" by U2 before leaving.

Why I Am Dumb

There are quite a few reasons I am dumb, my rudimentary math skills are certainly a strong sign. Then of course there's the unbelievable notion that more than four or five people come here in a given week, one of them is usually me might I add. However these reasons aren't completely satisfactory for my description of myself as being dumb.

I rarely visit ebay, usually I cross paths with it when I have a need unfulfillable by regular businesses. This equates to me walking away from the standard economy of big box stores, past the home town economy of Mom and Pop shops, and straight into the shadow economy of guys with neck beards and cheetoh stained fingers, living in lightless caverns selling rare trinkets. About 90% of the time things work out, I make a deal with the pasty Deep Ones and go about my business, but every once and again I make some foolish discovery and then through a series of idiotic decisions I end up in a world of hurt.

So, in the past few weeks I have been analyzing my need to adventure and cut a figure again. Which then leads me to wonder what I don't have, that I have wanted in the past, but previously been without the means to acquire. In this case, I have been reading The Lost City of Z, the story of intrepid explorer Percy Fawcett and his quest to find a lost city in the Amazon. Naturally he dies and no one sees him again, but the mystique and intrigue around him is tangible and potent on certain weak minds. In the book there are a handful of pictures of Fawcett, and although in my own anachronistic nature I have steadily come into the possession of plenty of interesting articles of clothing, one which has eluded me, Jodhpurs, otherwise known as riding breeches. You still probably have no clue what these are, so I'll further the description, they are those riding pants which flare at the thigh and tie at the knee, creating something of a puffy side.

I decided to head to ebay to look for some antique breeches, as modern riding breeches are merely tight white pants. Well, much to my surprise, and future chagrin, I found two pairs. The first pair is made entirely of wool, unlined, light green in color, it's from early 1918, and belonged to a poor enlisted American officer. The second pair, from the same dealer, are made of a more traditional and vastly less itchy material, and are from 1927, also U.S. Military in nature. Both in fine condition. The dealer also had a woolen sleeping bag from World War II, which I decided would do well in the back of any future automobile I had, because you never know where you may have to lay your head when adventure calls you.

So, based on previous experiences on ebay I assumed that all of these items would soon be on the block and skyrocketing in price. so i placed a single bet on each, with the intention of maybe only actively focusing on one, but leaving it open to snatch another should my main attention get to far ahead. Well damnation, no one has bid but me, or rather the one person who bid, bid a dollar more and gave up, not even making it close to my upper limit on the item. So now, with less than 23 hours to go i am winning all three items, when I really only intended on getting 1. Now I could simply buy the one I actually wanted and leave the rest unpaid for, but that's bad eggs isn't it? I don't want to get on Lady ebays bad side, she's probably where I will be getting my next car from.

Now I will also add a little addendum, riding breeches only come to the knees, and I have no knee boots (decidedly more expensive than breeches), so in the end to actually wear them I will have to find a low price pair of knee high boots, which will then open another line of reasoning...black boots or brown? If black won't i look quite a bit like a Nazi? But I would assume it would be easier to find black. Oh well, this is all in the future and who knows, maybe you've always wanted a pair of riding breeches and now I've informed you and you can save my bacon.

Extra History! 4/14/09

How much more horror can we pack into a day? I'll show you!

So, right now it's 6:10, and in an hour and 25 minutes it will be 11:35 in the north Atlantic and back in 1912 the RMS Titanic will strike an Iceberg. It will not sink until tomorrow morning taking over 1,500 passengers with it.

2000, Lars Ulrich, human shit receptacle, sues Napster.

History! 4/14/09

Could these get any more boring? So why do I continue? Because I will it.

1775 (starting off a bit late huh) the first abolitionist group is founded in America, Society for the Relief of Free Negroes Unlawfully Held in Bondage, otherwise known as SRFNUHB, or Surfin' A Bee (all lies). The founding members were Benjamin Rush, and Benjamin Franklin. Franklin did it to get laid, Rush did it hoping he'd get some of Franklin's left overs.

1846, the Donner party leaves Springfield, Illinois on their way to kick ass California. 150 years later elementary school children everywhere will recreate their journey with the only fun educational game in existence, Oregon Trail.

1865, an actual important event and I'm glad I brought it up. I should probably make an individual post about this as well. Our 16th President Abraham Lincoln is shot at Fords Theater by the assassin John Wilkes Booth. Right now it is about 9:35 back East, and at this moment Booth is waiting at the theater. He arrived 30 minutes earlier and, because he was once an actor he is waiting for the right moment to climb the stairs to the Presidents box. At 10:15 Mary Todd, Lincoln's wife, will note that he is holding her hand, and asks what Miss Harris (a guest of Lincoln's) will think, to which Lincoln will say "She won't think anything about it." Moments later, during an outbreak of laughter from the audience (timed out by booth) Booth will shoot the President at point blank range in the back of the head with a dillinger. Major Rathbone, soon to be husband of Miss Harris, tries to grab Booth, but is stabbed. Booth attempts to climb forward towards the railing, but Rathbone grabs him again, and is rebuffed by Booth's knife again. Booth attempts a graceful leap from the Presidents box to the stage, but his riding spur catches the American flag bunting on the box and he lands awkwardly, breaking his fibula. Limping forward he turns to the audience and shouts "Sic Semper Tyrannis!" Latin for "thus always to tyrants!", the state motto of Virgina. He then fled the stage and made good his escape. Lincoln, now is non responsive, but a group of three doctors are quickly on the scene and after removing a clot from the wound he is moved across the street to William Petersen's Boarding House. Lincoln is placed on a bed there at an angle because he is too tall to lay straight up and down. At 7:22 am, on April 15th (3:22 am our time) Abraham Lincoln passed away, United States Secretary of War, Edwin Stanton was there and commented "Now he belongs to the ages."

I'll throw this up now and follow up with more in a little bit.

The world must know!

Jones' Big Ass Truck Rental & Storage

History! Lite! 4/10/09

So today we're going to be looking at just a few dates from history, because a few important things happened and little else.

1865, Forgot to mention but yesterday Robert E. Lee surrendered his troops at Appomattox court house. Today however is the day he last addressed his soldiers. I picture the two events like this...






1912, OH SHIT! The Titanic leaves Southampton to go and see New York. I wonder what will be in store for them?

1919, Emiliano Zapata is shot dead by Government agents in Morelos. This marks the beginning of a trend in Mexican film making where the brave Robin hood type is gunned down battling the corrupt government.

1925, The Great Gatsby is published for the first time, in New York. Two weeks later it is required reading for all High School freshmen.

1970, Paul McCartney announces that the Beatles are splitting up, Death excitedly begins sharpening his scythe.

Also, in the holiday section of the post today is "Good Friday" the supposed day Jesus was crucified on Golgotha. What makes this a "Good" day I can hardly guess.



I had to do that! It was just sitting there on Wikipedia for gosh sakes. I'm not made of stone!

Ghost Story...

This is a true tale of spirits and unexplained events. I can guarantee its truth by the virtue that none other than myself was there to experience it. Of course if you don't know me that well then you can easily dismiss what I'm about to tell you, but if you know me you can vouch for the veracity of my claims, and my composure to recognize what could actually be "out there".





There was a time when I would go prowling around at night with a select handful of friends and seek the unexplained and paranormal. Generally speaking we returned empty handed, or when something did come up it was easily dismissed as something natural. However one night, apparently cursed, my fellows and I ventured into the ruins of an abandoned hospital and witnessed a singularly terrifying event.





The players in question were...













We were old hat at the business of ghost hunting, two of us had advanced degrees in Ghostbusters quoting in fact. Unfortunately this would not prepare us for what we found inside the old hospital that quiet spring night.

Funny thing is the place we went to, Old Saint John's Hospital in Oxnard, CA, we had been more than once, or rather Mike and I had been. I had taken photo's and explored the nooks and crannies of the place. I had a degree of familiarity with the site that kept me from feeling nervous about what I might find, in spite of the gruesome stories. Rumours abounded, told by former employees that the unnatural events plaguing the hospital was partly the reason they built a new site across town. In the microbiology labs faucets and decontamination showers would spring to life simultaneously, forcing the night crew to go through and turn off each handle. An old man would ride the elevator with you in silence, before disappearing as you were about to reach his floor. In pediatrics a little girl would sit with the sick children and talk about their days, confounding the nurses who had no recollection of such a girl being in the ward. In the basement, beside the morgue where the autopsies would take place tools would go missing, strange shuffling sounds could be heard all the way in cardiology down the hall. Shadows prowled the rooftops and hallways at night, and every so often, on the third floor in the maternity ward a pale and bloody woman would wander the halls with her stillborn baby. Suffice it to say it scared the hell out of the night shift nurses.

So in spite of such stories we had never experienced anything, well, nearly anything. We had heard doors, crashing open and hurried footsteps down hallways and stairwells. I attributed the sounds to a confused crack head, and found a route that kept us parallel and away from whatever was thundering down the corridors. On another occasion we followed an unusual patch of shadow through the building, it waiting in doorways and fleeing silently down ramps and stairwells. These were however minor things, unusual, but not terrifying.

So it was with an eagerness usually reserved for bad movie night we went back, with Brandon in tow. Brandon hadn't been on a hunt for ages and wanted to see what the fuss was about. We pulled open a hole in the fence and he wriggled through then we approached the south side of the building. The place was shaped like an 8bit letter A, a hollow courtyard, with four long corridors around it, two of which extended South , the direction we would enter from. This meant you approached the broken glass doors, their interior pitch black, flanked on either side by three story walls, with inky black windows staring out at you, hiding anyone or anything that may be watching.

As I said the air was completely still, not even a trace of breeze touched the trees, and as we crossed underneath a small arch in the parking lot, a cross perched atop it Mike and I froze. A icy shiver had gone up my spine and I was frozen in fear, an entirely new experience. Mike was equally motionless, staring ahead, mouth open.
"Hey Mike." I muttered.
"Yeah?" He mumbled.
"Did you just?"
"Yeah."
"Ever happen to you before?"
"Nope."
Regaining my composure I tapped Brandon on the shoulder, he had managed to move a bit further along while Mike and I were stuck in place.
"What?"
"Mike and I got a real bad feeling about this."
"So?"
"No, as in, I have never experienced such a case of complete dread at entering the building before."
"Well what are we supposed to do now?" Brandon shot a glance at the two of us.
"Well, we need to decide if we should head back or go on, because as it stands something bad might happen."
"Well, what do you want to do?" Brandon leaned against a short wall.
"I say we keep going." I replied, Mike approaching waving a hand in dismissal.
"Woh, lets think for a minute. We need to get some sort of guidance here." Mike explained crossing his arms.
"From who?"
"The big guy." Mike pointed up. Brandon began chuckling.
"Really? So you, a practicing Catholic, are going to ask God if we should enter the Hospital. you know according to your own religious tenets there are no ghosts." I laughed off the idea.
"Shut up, alright, you all keep quiet and I'll ask for guidance, then we'll wait here, for three minutes. If God doesn't want us in there, he'll give us a sign." Mike leaned against the wall and began praying, I nodded in silence and looked at Brandon. For three minutes we stood and waited, and just as my watch was about to run out of time for our request a single leaf scrapped across the ground towards us. Mike's eyes were wide, Brandon's equally so, I pursed my lips and shrugged. the leaf continued towards us, then abruptly turned 90 degrees and followed the path back to the parking lot. We were all still, then...
"Ready to go in?" Mike clapped his hands.
"Yeah, lets get in there and see what we can find." I pointed into the shadowy recesses of the hospital door.
"What about the fuckin' leaf?" Brandon looked to the parking lot.
"What leaf?" We said and made our way forward.

Once inside the door there is a long corridor dead ahead, that terminates at an elevator and a sharp left leading to the cafeteria. Along that same entrance corridor is a right turn that runs alongside what used to be a gift shop, empty, even its fixtures long gone. This little passage will then open up into a T intersection, to the right a few rooms, to the left a long black hallway, occasionally stained by light from the street lamps outside, shining through broken windows. At the end of this left most hallway is the haunted elevator, a stairwell leading to the upper floors, and microbiology wrapping around the Northern most expanses of the hospital. We followed this particular hallway, leading to the stairs, our destination either the basement or a more complete look at the other floors. As we moved stealthily along the hall the dread in us grew, Brandon's eyebrow cocked like the hammer on a pistol, his eye darting into and out of rooms on either side. It was important to, no matter what, not picture a pale face looking back from the other side of a empty room, slumped in a corner, hollow black eyes seeming to recognize something in you, more frightening that it simply saw you and knew you were there. As we made our way we heard something and stopped. Scratching, quiet at first, the with speed and vigor it sped towards us, along the roof, scratching and clawing sounds, circling over an empty hole above us.

"Pigeons." I said, there were pigeons in many of the rooms, and assuredly they probably got inside the panels as well.
"Yeah, pigeons." Mike said, looking back down the hallway. the sound stopped as suddenly as it started, and we moved forward a foot, when again, the scratching returned, this time from behind us, rushing towards us at an amazing speed, tumbling around over us then stopping.
"Alright, when I said pigeons I may have been optimistic."
"Well, which way do we go?" Mike looked up and down the corridors. Abruptly the entire hallways was filled with scratching and movement. I stood silently, eyes furtively looking around, the whole length of the corridor seemed alive with sound. Suddenly it stopped.
"We should head deeper in, take the stairs and check out the third floor, obviously we have a busy night." I said, looking down the hallway.

It should also be important to point out that we had no lights, or rather none to speak well of. Brandon had found a communion candle in his car, its light less powerful than a match's, and Mike and I had acquired a single lantern Unable to illuminate more than a few feet in any direction. We simply couldn't use these either as the light they cast made it difficult to see what lay ahead.

With only moonlight and our own ability to see in the dark we headed down the hallway, expecting more strange sights and sounds in no time. We reached the stairwell without incident, and carefully pulled the door open, the walls were cracked and decaying, leaves, papers and weird stains covered the floor. We bunched together and moved inside, taking the stairs a few steps at a time, eyeballing what lay above us. We slinked past the second floor and arrived at the third floor landing. I looked at the door knob, Mike looked at me, Brandon peeked back down the stairs.

"Well, open it." Mike pointed. the sense of doom had been slowly filling us since we had entered, and now all of our cups were running over with terror. We had never been so collectively immobilized before.
"No way, what if she's right fuckin' there." I stared at the door.
"I'm not opening it." Mike looked back to Brandon.
"Stop lookin' at me, I am not touchin' that door." Brandon never even looked at us, keeping his eyes steadily below us.
"Alright, we'll both open the door." Mike said flatly.
"Deal." We extended our hands and grabbed the doorknob, then pushed, Brandon turned his attention away from the stairs and gazed over the top of us. The door inched open as we pushed and then furtively we looked into the third floor. Directly in front of us was a nurses station and a very long hallway running to the opposite side of the hospital, the doors open, letting slivers of light through. To our right was another hallway running the width of the hospital, door also open. We cautiously placed our feet onto the rug and took our first step inside. At that moment we could hear it. A low far away sound, in the back of our ears, nothing close, but there none the less.
"You hear that?" Mike asked, raising his foot.
"Yeah." I lifted mine and we moved forward one pace, now the sound was clearer, and even more disturbing. It was mumbling, a long off unintelligible gibberish bubbling from the darkness. Our eyes bulged from our sockets and we took our third and final step into the third floor. now the sound was growing in intensity, new voices joining, male, female, inhuman mumbling, and at the end of the corridor directly in front of us a door slammed. The light cut off, then another to our right, with each door that closed the sound grew louder, and closer. It wasn't coming from the halls it sounded as though it was coming from our own ears, malevolent chanting inches form our heads. Doors slammed slowly at first moving closer. We were frozen in complete indescribable terror, no near death experience or other incident has ever pinned me so completely. Blanched white, we couldn't move, we simply trembled as the slamming doors sped up and got closer. Then footsteps, tumbling away down the stairs. Pulling my eyes from the shadows ahead I saw Brandon fleeing at breakneck speed down the stairs. The spell temporarily broken I leaped down three steps and hurtled at Brandon's back, Mike the last one looking into the abyss abruptly realized he was alone and charged after us. We could here the mumbling becoming more distant, the slam of the third floor door, then horrible shriek as it opened again, slamming harder this time. whatever it was was on the stairwell with us, in pursuit for who knew what reason.

"Don't exit here!" I yelled at Brandon as he reached for the first floor door. "Keep going down the bottom door leads outside!" We tumbled after him a river of limbs flinging ourselves down deeper into the shadows reaching the door and rushing outside. SAFE! We fled from the door and out into the still silent night. I shook uncontrollably, my hair on end, no one could say anything.

"What the fuck was that!" Brandon punched at the sky.
"I have no clue." I said still shaking. Brandon and Mike produced packets of cigarettes, lit up and started puffing furiously.
"Did you hear that shit, it was in our God damned ears!" Brandon looked up at the third floor, ominously blank windows looked back.
"It sounded like chanting." Mike looked out at the street.
"So what we're dealing with is either some seriously fucked up thing in there or, worse yet a cult who we caught off guard." I began looking around the planters and walkways.
"If so they're probably waiting for us in there." Mike motioned at the door.
"Then lets leave." Brandon threw down his first cigarette lighting another.
"Guys," I came from behind a planter, with an unfortunate discovery, "We have to go back inside."
"Fuck no!" Brandon said with a scowl.
" We don't have a choice, there's no exit here, the fence doesn't have a gate or an exit." I pointed, on all sides a thirteen foot high chain link fence encircled our position, topped with barbed wire it was all but impenetrable.
"Aww shit. Game over man, game over!" Mike looked back at the building.

We stood out there for thirty minutes, Brandon and Mike both smoking their whole pack. We had settled on a plan, scrounging around outside we discovered a long metal rod, it was extremely heavy. We then found a lead pipe, a quarter of the length of the rod, Brandon took the rod and Mike took the pipe. We then formed ourselves into a defensive ball, Brandon would lead us, whilst I watched the doorways to our left and right, pushed against Brandon's back, Mike would face the rear and keep his back to my shoulder. We would move slowly down the hallway, and should anything approach we would destroy it instantly.

Plan settled and weapons ready we approached the door back to the stairwell, and discovered an unusual surprise. Pinned to the door, keeping it shut was a long bench.

"You put that there?" I asked Brandon.
"Nope."
"You?" I turned to Mike.
"Nope."
"Fuck it!" Brandon grabbed the bench and tossed it away, the door creaked open.

We maneuvered inside and began the arduous trek back up the stairs and down the hallway. Brandon waved the bar, a wooshing sound penetrating the silence. I would turn left and right, fists up waiting for some lunatic wearing a goat skull mask to pop up. Mike cautiously followed facing down the receding hallway.

"Whatever happens, don't leave me behind." Mike asked.
"Sure." I said.
"Sure thing." Brandon inched along.
It took us around an hour to reach the split hallway leading to the cafeteria and the exit, a span that took us less than ten minutes to span only a short while before. Brandon and I could see the shattered glass and the moonlight, the portal outside was right there, we were fifty feet from freedom. Simultaneously Brandon and I had the same thought. 'What if something was waiting patiently at the blind turn next to the exit.' Brandon and I had the same thought and acted in the same second. He thundered forward at breakneck speed and I followed behind him, certain that if anything popped out he would knock it over and I would slip by right behind. We burst through the shadows and into the open air, just behind us we could hear Mike.

"Do you hear that guys? Guys?" He turned and saw we had left him, the sound he was so worried about was our retreat. "Fuck you!" He ran after us.

With that we left, Mike and I knowing that someday we would return to unravel more secrets about the place. Though for the time being we were just glad to be free. We hadn't paid attention to the time that we had entered, but now returning to the car we knew we had gone in shortly before midnight, and could be almost certain that at the stroke of twelve was when we had entered the third floor.

I've seen shit that would turn you white.

Death of Adventurism...

"Something hidden. Go and find it. Go and look

behind the ranges-"
Rudyard Kipling

Perhaps it's merely me, or my human brains own ability to create links between unrelated events, but I think part of the decline of society as of late stems from a few things. Of course the obvious one is that the economy is in the dumps, then there's Fox news asking that we plunge a stake into Obama's heart because he is a vampire coming to take our guns (no lie, their words, not mine). then there's the surveillance and internet censorship...I could go on for days about all the manifest ills that plague the West and modern society. But maybe, just maybe, this is all because we have colored in the map all the way.

Perhaps once satellites went circling and the last of the explorers returned home to their societies is when the nervous energy started building in us. There were no more monsters, or ruins to be found in lost places, untouched, unseen in jungles or deserts. We were asked to look skyward and in the deep oceans for uncharted expanses. The problem with space is that once you're in it there is really nothing there, no ruins, no animals, no sound. Every planet we reach is dead, and all the places we can see are beyond our grasp or intellectual facilities to fathom. Also, as with the deep, we cannot go there. Less than a handful, a fingernail sliver of society can go either to the stars, to sit idly looking back at the completed map, or into the deep (more satisfying I'd say). But the common cannot do this, we can't set our sights on a distant place spoke of in rumor and shrouded in a fog of mysterious talk, they no longer exist. Now when gripped by that need to venture far from home, or seek new shores we turn to media, or worse yet we bottle the need and redirect it towards our fellows unexpectedly.

That is to say that exploration, mapping, true Adventurism is dead. It was natural for people to want to learn more about their world, and the things within, but how sad it is to know that when the last photo was taken on a flyby that the world shrunk, and shrinks still.

How cloying it must be to all who want to read the exploits of an explorer, or if we have the resolve to, explore ourselves. I'm of course not implying that we look inward for vast unexplored areas, you can only explore those by interaction with your fellows. Nowadays when you think of nature or the wild it is painted as quest of man versus his own demons. Hiking, climbing, kayaking are all sold as therapy now, they are for us to look inward and connect with that part of us that wants to explore. What then arises is an industry and an ideology around it, with expensive gear, GPS navigation, pole-less tents and the like, sending businessmen off on weekends to exotic places so they can be back to the gold course on Monday and tell of their "adventure". Adventure isn't like that, it's going where you don't know what's behind the next turn, and bringing back the information for others to follow in your footsteps, it's the pursuit of illumination to lost secrets. Today we have tarted up adventure to sell pick up trucks or energy drinks.

Or I'm probably just rambling, but I know what I want. I want there to be sights unseen, I want there to still be blank spots on maps and ruins in the jungles. I want to explore, and show the world what was once missing is now found, but I can't, because mankind has moved on. We don't care for stories like that now, we have our internet and can connect with any place we want, sate our needs with photos or videos.

I want to go on an adventure again, to outfit myself with a means of transport and a loose idea of what lies on the other side of the mountains and go for a little while. To pick up ideas and memories, holding myself to no schedule but my own, and stopping at my whim to see what is out there. But can I is the question that is most troubling, for at some point a persons life is traded out and replaced with a new one whose sole responsibility is to be responsible. Everyday I hear about the accumulated wealth of my neighbors and fellows, I hear about their doctors appointments and concerns about whether they'll be back from lunch or dinner on time. They talk about short vacations and weekends as if those were the only thing to live for, two days here and there for however many years they have before them. How then does someone weigh their life against this, when afraid of such a life a person lashes out and pursues adventures and irresponsibility to escape or to retain their identity.

I however don't know, I am uncertain about all of it. Perhaps I would be dead in a jungle somewhere if born earlier, more than likely I would. That is part of the adventure, to move past fear and keep going, battling against a world set on killing you. Weekend adventurers never have to fear about going this far, neither do I, because there is no point and no place to push oneself that way, or at least if there are there's no actual purpose to do so.

So perhaps in no short time I will gather my resources and disappear for a week and explore the countryside on my own, perhaps then I won't feel as though I'm not putting my youth to good use. We only have a single life, and death waits around every turn, if you can't do what you want in life why are you doing what you're doing?

We're going back! To the past? History! 4/3/09?

That's right, because blogs are about demands, as has been explained to me by one of my readers I am now forcefully (lest a petition be created) required to give you "This Day In History!" for April 3rd (the cads birthday!). Naturally you may wonder why we are doing this on April 8th, and the answer is...I don't know, this is just dumb. So on to the incongruous past!

1043, APRIL 3RD! Edward the Confessor is crowned King of England, he is the next to last Saxon King of England. Amusingly he died in 1066, the same year the Normans invaded and conquered the country, but that failure was King Godwinson's fault.

1865, Jesus that's quite the jump, but it's still in the PAST BECAUSE IT DID NOT HAPPEN TODAY, IT HAPPENED ON THE THIRD! Anyway, Richmond is captured by the Union army. Yay!

1882, Jesse James is killed by the coward Robert Ford. Ford becomes famous by depicting his attack on the outlaw, until depressed and alone he is shot in the throat with a shotgun by a drunk. EVERYBODY WINS!

1917, NOT TODAY, A FEW DAYS AGO! Vladimir Lenin arrives in Russia after an extended exile. This marks the beginning of the Bolshevik control over the Russian Revolution. The rule of thumb is that if you have a local Lenin and he's not allowed into the country or town...DON'T LET HIM BACK IN! UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES!

1922, Fuck all, Stalin becomes the first General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. shortly after this Trotsky gets the fuck out of Dodge, you know, right after he sees that they've been editing him out of photos.

1968, Martin Luther King Jr. gives his "I've been to the mountaintop" speech, he is assassinated the next day. There is nothing funny about this.

1969, We pledge to begin "Vietnamizing" the conflict in Vietnam, namely putting the responsibility of fighting on the South Vietnamese themselves, giving them weapons and training for the task. Naturally this totally works and we win Vietnam.



1982, the United Kingdom sends a naval task force to get the Falkland Islands back. The British probably flipped a coin on whether they would send a bunch of wooden ships to handle the Argentinians or an actual fleet.

1996, Ted "Cool Professor From Berkeley" Kacynzki, Kazinski, Karamazov...whatever, is arrested in his little shack in Montana. This is what happens to people who teach at Berkeley, you've been warned America.

So that's that, this is all the remotely interesting crap that happened on April 3rd. I hope you jackals are happy. BECAUSE IT IS THE 8TH!!!

Stuff I Find to Eat...

So here's a new fold in my blog, I have decided to start writing about food I find and eat at my work. I am something of a symbiotic entity at my work, I provide day to day protection and security and the detritus ejected by the office provides me the energy to engage in this service. In essence to guard the site I need scraps to be left in common areas so that I don't pass out or worse yet, die from malnutrition. Now you would think it would be relatively easy to find food in an large office complex, but you would be extremely mistaken. Being that I am a external entity to the company (Security) I have to select my targets carefully.

Examples are as follows...
Birthday Cakes: Can't eat them, unless there is less than a tiny sliver left, or better yet it has been thrown in a trash can. Otherwise I am taking what amounts to a gift from someone I do not know.
Fridge Food: An assured no, I, unlike other office workers would never dream of taking food from the many fridges on site and eating that which does not belong to me. Also most of the fridges contain terrible odors, certain;y caused by their contents.
Food left in empty cubicles: these are items left in clearly unoccupied cubicles, no one works in that spot and thus the food is kind of a mystery. Usually foods left in these spots are cupcakes, bagels, cakes, and donuts. These under no circumstances should be taken, as their presence suggests that one or more of the employees in the immediate vicinity purchased them earlier in the day for everyone there, and thus they are private property.

What food can I openly consume then in my searches? Well after a certain number of cubicles there is a guaranteed "Break Area", where there is usually a coffee pot and odd food stuffs, this is a communal offering, thus any items left out in these areas are open for the taking, however in moderation. Exceptions to this rule are boxes of donuts on Friday night, or rather most food on Friday night. If the food is left uneaten after that point it will simply go stale and be thrown away, meaning I have an obligation to consume that which I find.

If such items are found at any other time during the week discretion is to be made in choosing what to eat. There are six donuts left, three are chocolate, one has some form of creme in it, and another has a piece missing and knife next to it, sometimes the piece that was cut out is also there, suggesting a bad donut. The rule of thumb is to take one from the plentiful group, and if particularly hungry take the least popular donut available. Thus in the morning if anyone still wants them they'll find the more popular donuts still available, and the shitty one no one like is now gone. Also this opens up another chance, if you come back the next day and the donuts are either in the trash, or still there it is open season as they will not be edible by day three.

A rare occurrence is leftovers from a pot luck, or pizzas left on these stations. One of the worst sights to behold in such an environment is the days when a pot luck occurs, or a number of employees purchase a dozen pizzas then walk out with everything, leaving not a crumb. Sometimes if luck is in the air then an employee or two will offer a single piece, at which point it is important to decline, but if persistent it can be acceptable to take the offering. Food from Human Resources is to always be accepted as well as terrible vegetarian sandwich party samplers brought into executive meetings. The bread may be soggy and they may taste like feet but they provide important calories needed to live!

Another common fear people must overcome is the notion that the handful of trash receptacles around the "Commons" areas are "HANDS OFF", in most offices the cans are cleaned every day and lined with plastic, meaning there is little in way of filth and moreover food is often thrown away en masse. There have been quite a few occasions in which pizza boxes and cinnamon roll containers are stuffed into a tiny can, uneaten and still fresh. these must be consumed before discovered by the janitorial staff, who will certainly throw them out as the original owners intended.

Unfortunately however food is scarce most days, and with economic conditions going haywire, many of the previous occurrences or largess by employees is disappearing. It is standard to find food in the building twice to three times a week, thus it will prove necessary to have enough food at home to survive for the days where nothing is available at work. One also must never break the rules about what you can eat on site when starving or desperate for nourishment, to break those rules is to invite unwanted dangers to ones job! Most of those situations that are regarded as no fly zones require that you potentially steal someone else's food, and that's not how etiquette works. So despite what delicious treasures you see in a fridge or empty cubicle, if it is not at a "Commons" area it should not be eaten!

This brings me to today's installment, now that all the description of life here is past. today I was offered, or rather left some form of energy bar made by noted "Crappy Organic" juice company Odwalla. The "Odwalla" bar as it was called, was of the "Choco-walla" persuasion. I am always suspicious of these types of bars, they are usually a puree of disparate items that are then covered in a thin powder of minerals and baked. They are abhorrent to the palate in most cases, and have consistencies akin to chalk mixed with old brownie. The choc-walla however was superior to the companies disgusting juice line, but just barely. It is "chocolaty", in a very conservative way, and has many bizarre after tastes. Reading the label I discover that it is 29% organic, which to me means precisely dick. To me a measurement of "organic" should be either zero or 100%, and I'm sure the people who care about "organic" products predominately feel the same way. To these people seeing that 29% tells them that the remaining 71% is unfit for human consumption, and was probably manufactured on a conveyor belt that it has to share with sides of shit covered beef. This is generally why I dislike people from the "organic" set, they go from zero to crazy in about three seconds when it comes to food manufacturers. So putting the percentage of hand grown wheat germ and stuff aside lets look at the ingredients...
Brown Rice Syrup (i have this to thank for the consistency), this is the largest ingredient in it, there is more syrup in it than oats.
Chocolate chips (made from evaporated this and congealed cane cut that)
Variations on the themes above. Oh yeah, and of course, pureed Dates, Plums and Raisins. those are my least favorite...whatever the fuck they are, berries? Yeah, you could kind of taste the plum behind everything, nasty.

Thankfully it was 240 calories, which should provide me just enough energy to make it home where food is waiting.

I will also point out that Odwalla Inc. is located in Half Moon Bay, California. I was unaware that Half Moon Bay produced the Odwalla line and am saddened by this, it's a really nice part of the state. Also if you happen to be in Half Moon Bay I recommend giving Odwalla a miss and going instead to this breakfast place on the side of the road. Its name escapes me, but it was quite large and the food was better than anything I've pulled out of a trash can here. Then again that makes the food sound sub-par, which is unintentional, the food at this particular restaurant was fabulous!

So in the end, the choco-walla is edible, but so are lots of other things.

I would be lying if I said this wasn't HISTORY! 4/6/09

Fuckin' hell, I got a new phone and now I feel compelled to review the times before the "phone" tax was in place. The "phone" tax being the ridiculous amount of money you need to spend to have a phone, but since it is necessary to function in modern society it is not much more than a tax on living. Also I had a cutie, they are either tangerines or some other bizarre genetic mutation of a once normal plant. I had two last week and they were like delicious little oranges, I found two in the office today and discovered that they were like monkey shit and artificial flavoring combined. Fuck you store bought cutie, I need to find the source of last weeks edible fruits.

46 BC, Caesar kicks Scipio and Cato in the face at the battle of Thespus, Scipio and Cato being rivals of Caesar, in the times when Caesar wasn't "lord of everything" and was just "Julius the Politician". there is a strong possibility handling political rivals in this manner is what led to the stabbing a little while later.


1199, Famed "Super Cunt" Richard the Lionheart, dies from an infected arrow wound. You may remember Richard from the third crusade, or that time he was kidnapped, or heck here's one, he was the "Good" King at the end of any story you've seen about Robin Hood. In reality he hated England, was terribly French and had a terrible attitude towards anyone on the wrong side of his sword, thus he was the perfect crusader.

1327, Petrarch sees Laura for the first time and falls in love. Laura is married to a count and so understandably says "No thanks" to Petrarch, who then spends a significant portion of his life writing poems about her, but rather than persuasive poems these are fancy poems that only seek to illuminate the reader to the beauty of Laura. Moral of the story: in the renaissance, when your famous, you may still never get the girl. I'm lookin' at you too Dante.
































What's that? You would like a Revolution? Alright, on this day in 1793 the Committee of Public Safety becomes the executive body of the Republic of France, which means today begins...THE TERROR!




You can find more at http://www.harkavagrant.com/index.php

Anyway, 1814, Napoleon abdicates and goes straight to Elba, where he dies from stomach problems. More than likely the stomach problems were the result of eating the shitty food available to him on campaign.

1862, The bloody battle of Shiloh begins between Confederate general Albert "Not Ulysses S. Grant" Johnston and Ulysses S."Don't Fuck With Me" Grant.




1895, Oscar Wilde (Noted Playwright and Man About Town) is arrested outside a hotel, he had just lost his libel case against the 9th Marquess of Queensberry. This is a sad turn of affairs for our first Alien playwright (see Velvet Goldmine).


1917, Woodrow "Ku Klux Klan" Wilson gets his wish and we enter into war with Imperial Germany. Wilson immediately begins setting aside his favorite suits for the eventual peace treaty conferences, he is quoted as saying "It will be great, I'll make sure everyone walks away happy and no one is saddled with all the war debts!"


1984, Cameroon's Republican Guard try to overthrow the government, it is widely suspected they stumbled upon a TV with the power to see the future and witnessed this!




Anything after that day is being saved for next year...oh yeah, and if you don't get the above joke might I recommend Rupaul's Drag Race.

History! 4/2/09

May God have mercy on my soul, why do I do this day after day, like Sisyphus pushing a boulder up a hill, only to have it roll back comically to the beginning. Dear phantom audience I know you are not out there, I know that of the millions of pages on the internet the probability of finding this one is slim to nil, so please if you receive this message in time know that I have no dignity, because I write History!

1513, Ponce de Leon, noted Spanish explorer douche about town steps foot on Florida, the first European to do so.



1804, The HMS Apollo runs afoul of rocks off the coast of Portugal. The Apollo was leading 60 other ships and a slow speed pileup ensued killing many and destroying forty ships altogether. the Cause of the accident was a large cask full of metal on the Apollo that interfered with its compass, as well as the captains terrible addiction of over the counter pain medication.

1863, Richmond erupts in riots as a bread shortage forces women to the streets demanding emergency supplies. Meanwhile their men folk are being shot in the face by Union soldiers. So Jeff Davis, are you happy now?

1865, Jeff and his cronies are forced to flee Virginia as the Union army closes in, a confederate soldier is heard to remark "AGHHH! MY FACE HAS BEEN SHOT!"

1917, Woodrow "Ku Klux Klan" Wilson asks Congress for a declaration of war against Germany, most likely because Teddy Roosevelt wouldn't stop calling demanding America "Get its War on!"

1930, Haile Selassie is crowned Emperor of Ethiopia! This results in the formation of the head shop industry. You have no clue what I'm talking about do you?

Everything after that is kind of meh, maybe I'll care next year. Probably not.