While we wait for the rebirth of European nobility and whatnot, we should stop, reflect and cheer for on this day, in 753 B.C., Rome was founded by Romulus and Remus. Great guys, great town - and even greater Empire.
How do we celebrate such an august occasion? Apart from slaughtering barbarians, and cursing recalcitrant Gauls?
Well, when you're done with that, you can always check out some music. Like the latest album from Rome, Masse Mensch Material. It really sets the mood for those late night bacchanalias.
So three Cheers to the Roman Republic, three cheers for Romulus and Remus and three cheers for the Circus Maximus.
A couple of years back I was introduced to the wonderful world of hufu, a wonderful soybased tofu product design to resemble, and taste like, human flesh. And recently I got to revisit this topic while writing an article on the subject.
I am, for those who don't know it already, a fervent believer in cannibalism as a rational use of available natural resources. Humans are meat, and once expired (the human part, not the meat part of course), we should be returned to the cycle of life. I don't care how, as long as we are used for something and aren't just a waste of space. Unfortunately, a waste of space is exactly what most of us are while we're alive, apart from occasional fertilization of woodlands when out camping, we don't give a lot back. In death, we finally have a chance to do something about it. Either as a decomposing (and fertilizing) body or as food for animals and other humans. Like I said, we're just meat.
However, that doesn't mean I'm not aware of the problem this presents to the vegan and vegetarian communities out there. Even though it doesn't harm any animals, most of them are against cannibalism. This is where hufu comes in. Through human-tasting tofu products these people can at least feel like they're taking part in the cycle of life, even if they have willfully distanced themselves from it. Isn't that great?
And for those cannibals out there who wish to change their way, or cut back on salty europeans, hufu is an excellent way to start out a diet. I heartily condone it.
I was first made aware of hufu through this wonderful segment on the Daily Show in 2005;
Great, eh? The sad part is that the company and eathufu.com proved to be a bit of a financial disappointment. In mid 2006 it disappeared of the web, and a whole lot of people never did receive their t-shirts or hufu, or a refund.
So I guess we should just wish Mark Nuckols the best of luck in the arms business.
Some anniversaries are a bit more awkward than others, but there are certain milestones in western civilization that just cannot be ignored. Back in the 90s, researchers were testing out Sildenafil for possible effects on chest pains and assorted other problems. It turned out, that it didn't help. What it did however, was give the user an amazing erection for several hours straight.
This was the birth of Viagra. And on march 27th, 1998, ten years ago today, the FDA approved the pills for commercial sale.
Western Civilization may not be able to cure cancer or solve environmental problems, but we can give stiffies to near-dead 90 year olds. Now if that isn't an accomplishment, I don't know what is.
Games are often judged on how immersive they are, and how well they draw you in and make you believe you are a part of its worlds. This goes especially for roleplaying games and computer games. However, sometimes you might feel you've immersed yourself in a game world too much, such as when you consider whether an action is worth risking a life point or not, or you expect to gain a decent amount of experience points for a night out on the town...
... and of course, sometimes you go too far... seriously...
but then again, I never did get into the Myst series
Beware the Ides of March, proclaimed to soothsayer in warning to the original man of the people Gaius Julius Caesar. I can speak for hours on the greatness of the original Caesar, on his skills as a warrior, his political acumen and his love for the people of Rome. And the Romans love for him, as well. He's a role model for future political actions, and the one man to compare all other leaders with. And on this day, the Ides of March... he was murdered. All good things come to an end, and the great democratic leader was felled by 23 individual knife wounds given to him by friends and allies. His blood would flood the Senate floor where he had served the Roman Republic and it's people in so many different capacities. And while one can argue that he should have seen such an act coming, given all the colourful omens that preceded it and the fact that he was a renowned military leader and political tactictian, the assassins were able to catch him off guard while he was receiving their petitions.
The Roman Senate was corrupted by their own petty jealousy and feared that Caesar, whom they had themselves given the title of Dictator-for-Life, was becoming to powerful and popular among the Roman people. The fact that he treated his enemies with the same decency and friendliness as his allies also shook them up a bit. The Senate organized themselves into an execution party, that included long-time friend and adopted son of Caesar, Brutus. Most folks believe that Caesars final words were directed to him - in English it is quoted as "And you, my son Brutus" and in latin "Et Tu Brute", which just means "You too, Brutus?" A better lating would be "Tu Quoque, Brute, Fili Mi?" However sources on this are flimsy at best, and there is only one source as far as I can tell, and it tells that he actually spoke in Greek, and cried out: "Kai Su, Teknon?". No matter which version prefered, I would think he was to busy getting stabbed to point out each and every participant, and even if he did... he wouldn't be so polite about it.
So what were his last words? There's no way to be sure, but history agrees that as the military genius he was, he was able to see what was going on pretty quickly. He analyzed it. And came to a conclusion. And soon after the first few knives struck him, he yelled out - "But this is violence!" And he should know, he had lead many a battle, and successfully so. To the end, he was a General, and an observer. He knew violence when he saw it.
And thus he died, bleeding at the Senate floor. Surrounded by his friends and allies, the people whom he had given power, and had rewarded him for his great work.
On this day, we honour the greatest statesman of all. In memoria, Caesar-baby. Rome will be reborn.
Last summer I had the pleasure of spending a weekend with a lot of friends and great artists, among them were one of my favourite musicians, Tony Wakeford along with his lovely wife Renee Rosen. Tony is behind the alternative folk (read neofolk, dark folk or whatever you prefer) project Sol Invictus, and is involved with several other similar projects.
Both Tony and Renee are lovely people, and it was great fun meeting them, and we still keep in touch from time to time. They are wonderful musicians, and songs by Sol Invictus are played at least once, every day, at my place. But the music often becomes overshadowed by the past, which some people seem unable to let go off. And no matter how many times Tony distances himself from past affiliations, meaning the British National Front and that sort of rather tasteless thugs, people still keep trying to use this against him.
It's sad really. It just proves how certain elements of the so-called "left", has actually just left their senses and abilities to reason far behind in their hunt for ideological purity. It's what happens when your ironclad dogmas get the best of you. You become easily confused by facts and blind to the truth. Okay, I'll admit it, it's more annoying than it's sad - though I still feel for the parents who brought these sort of lunatics in to the world and probably tried to raise them as best they could.
Well, to the point... I actually have one this time. Tony Wakeford recently gave an interview to Peter Webb along with his collaborator and producer, Reeve Malka from Israel. In this interview he clears up his past once more. The interview deals with past, present and future projects, and how he now feels about his association with the NF. At one point he states, regarding right wing politics;
"I don’t have any interest in it whatsoever. I find it quite alien. For me the past really is another country."
You don't have to be any clearer than that in my eyes. The interview is pretty long, but also very enlightening and interesting, and I heartily recommend reading it. It's been published on the web by the good folks at Evening of Light, which I'm told is a spiffy webzine, but so far I haven't had the time to look around much.
I also recommend checking out Tony's music, which you can buy through his own label, Tursa, or even as digital downloads through Woven Wheat Whispers and eMusic. His label also has some decent music of him and his associates on its myspace page. I also advice you to check out Sol Invictus on Myspace. There's also a few clips out there on youtube and elsewhere, like this rather shoddy video of a performance of one of my favourite Sol Invictus songs, Media;
I hope the recent interview quiets some of the ungrounded allegations and suspicions against Tony Wakeford and his collaborators... if not, we'll keep ignoring them. Drown them out with great music.
I admit it, my relationship to the wonderful muscial The Sound of Music, might be a bit... strange. It dominated large parts of my childhood and formed my identity. My interest in young nuns and young men in tight german uniforms most likely comes from an overexposure to this movie during formative years. Blame my parents for not letting me watch Rambo-movies.
On the other hand, no one can deny that it is a timeless masterpiece, even if they do reject me invites to Sound of Music Sing-a-long-events at my gloomy bachelor pad. The music is wonderful, the story is magical and the lyrics are witty... you would think that you couldn't go wrong with it.
Then again, you probably haven't seen this version of "Sixteen, going on seventeen"
I'll have to admit it, the death of Gary Gygax kept me from writing here... either that, or I had plenty of stuff to do elsewhere. Anyways, I was thinking about another side of myself, that I probably should bring forth.
People say I have a disturbed sense of humour. Among my collection of books you'll find collections of ethnic jokes, entire books on Jewjokes, Gayjokes and assorted other lowbrow topics. Humour that entertain and offends. This is where the intelligent and the ludicrously stupid meets. This is where the small minded bigot expresses his doubts, his fears, his entire weltanschauung, and where the over-ironic intellectual finds his risky amusement.
As a folklorist I have an excuse to indulge in those most tasteless of comedic genres, it allows me to sit here and drink some fine single malt whiskey and laugh heartily at lovely little bits like this:
And if anyone can tell me where it's from, I'll be very happy. I need the rest!
I've written this a couple of times already today, and there are plenty of people who have done the same, so I'm keeping this short.
Gary Gygax, the father of roleplaying games, died today (March 4th, but I guess its past midnight now). And we're all grieving in our own special way - looking through old gaming books and throwing around D&D jokes.
The co-creator of Dungeons & Dragons was one of the seminal people in the hobby, more than anyone else he was loved and hated by the gaming community. He was especially loved for starting it all, and giving us the framework and rules that we could distance ourselves from or break. A lot of us has criticized Gygax and D&D, and rightly so, we've even cursed him and the game from time to time, because it wasn't what we wanted from a roleplaying game. On the other hand, we could never forget that without Gygax we would have nothing to compare our expectations to. Nowhere to start from. He gave us that start. He was the giant whose shoulders we perched ourselves on, and he was every gamer's uncle.
And therefore, he was loved and respected.
Personally, I will be forever grateful for the gift of roleplaying games. It game the tools and settings to learn the craft of storytelling, something that has become a part of my life. Both my writing and my academic work always return to one thing - the stories we tell. And not to forget the stories I want to tell myself, as a writer of fiction and of roleplaying game supplements.
Thank you Gary, for all that. And so sorry you didn't make your saving throw, and even more sorry the cleric didn't have a resurrection spell handy.
Of course, I haven't forgotten this blog. I've just been busy, that's all. Other than writing, I've gotten around to seeing a couple of movies, one of them was the very anticipated Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Based on the Stephen Sondheim musical. You gotta love that, right? Because everybody loves Tim Burton, it's mandatory actually. Everybody loves Johnny Depp, that's mandatory too. Actually I think it's mandatory to want to have sex with him. And everybody loves Alan Rickman, though I don't believe that's mandatory yet. We're getting there though.
These people aren't allowed to make mistakes, and we apparently easily forget the ones they have (Planet of the Apes, anyone? Shame on you Tim!). Now, I have to admit, Sweeney Tood was a good movie. Not their greatest work, by far, it was a pretty standard deald. Everything looked like what you would expect it would look like when Tim Burton is comfortable with what he's doing. Which also means, no crazy, or great ideas, like in Beetlejuice or Batman. The thing is, and now I'm getting closer to a point I promise, is that its a musical about a brutal murderer and his manipulative accomplice. How can you go wrong? I love musicals, and I really don't mind that the actors arent "great singers" as some have complained. I mind though, that it's a poor musical. Not because of Burton or the others, but because the original Sondheim-musical is extraordinarly tame for the topic. And while Burton saves it with evoking images, and a bloodfest that pust Dario Argento to shame, the music simply doesn't really match it.
But hey, I'm still willing to forget. I'm still not disappointed. It's still a good movie.
But then... the travesty, the disappointment. Seriously folks. You have Anthony Stewart Head on set, you've announced he's going to be in the movie - and then you leave him with one single shot and a simple line? Where's the singing? Now, I may be overreacting a bit here, but I'm a huge Anthony Stewart Head fan, and not because of his role in that Buffy-thingy, but because he's a lovelt british actor with style and a great singing voice. An entertainer. And one of my favourite recordings is of this man singing Sweet Transvestite on Dark Refrains - Rocky Horror Disco Show.
And when I see him in Sweeney Todd, if only for just a second, I expect to hear him singing. Not just fade away into the overall scenery.
I've been known to be a bit critical when it comes to authors such as the much lover Robert A. Heinlein. He was actually the first science fiction author my mother read, apparently, and she loved him, but I've learned that you can't always depend on your parents. I don't know if it's his libertarian politics or the fact that the man invented the waterbed, but I just get an iffy feeling from him.
Anyways, I kinda like Starship Troopers. Both the book, and the movie. Actually I prefer the movie, simply because it's such a damn good parody of the book. Everything that Heinlein believed and poured into the novel, is turned on its head and used against him. The only thing left standing is the axiom that "military intelligence, isnt". His warmongering policy of might makes right is blasted to pieces by Verhoeven's WWII traumas. And I'm loving every moment of it. Heinlein's ideas are turned into satirical propaganda, that had me rolling on the floor laught. How can I not like this?
I have to admit... I lost my heart to a Starship Trooper.
I'm an afficionado of all things Victoriana and Steampunk, but I'm not just practical enough to build anything myself. So the best way to become my best friend (for life, warranty included) is probably to build me one of these. It's simply a beautiful and imaginative piece of work, that is a must have for any gentleman of good taste. An I am nothing if not a gentleman... though some have claimed that my taste is somewhat lacking, but nevertheless. This lovely little Victorian / Steampunk CD-player would be perfect for playing those cello-concertos I love to listen to, while reading a book of 19th century poetry. And you wouldn't want to deprive me of that pleasure, would you?
Build this for me. Give it to me. And I will grant you whatever that's in my power to give in return. Like a burned CD of Ben Houge's Arcanum soundtrack? Or a bit of a tickling? (I'm not a wealthy man...)
While I'm waiting for my wish to materialize, I just have to settle to looking at the pictures, and watching this little video demonstration of the player;
Kudos to Prof. Emilio Zuntaras for his Bi-Orbital Spectral Audiometer. Truly excellent work, and I'm not ashamed to admit that it kind of turns me on.
I'm a lover of religious text, and not just those that praise me and work - and I'm sure there are a lot of them out there. Religious texts, myths and great litterature are archetypal in nature, and we can always some element, whether an emotion, situation or personality that we recognize as our own.
And this way, one drunken night, I found myself in the Bible, while watching the original Jesus Christ Superstar adaptation. He didn't look much like me (well, you could always shave his head and add a beard, and perhaps a couple of pounds), and well, I don't much agree with his opinions. But his lifestyle? His whole attitude? And his moves? Baby, those moves are mine.
So here I was, newly arrived, but not new to the world. Welcome to what will be an expanding collection of my musings, old and new. I've been writing here and there in my native language for several years, and I've even managed to blog almost daily for several years. But it's been bothering me that some of my international friends and contacts couldn't understand and read my ramblings, and I've been toying with an English version of some of my writings for a couple of years. It only makes sense, since my original blog was in part intended as a place to practice writing in my native language, as I had been focusing all too much on my writings in English.
So here we go, I am the King in Yellow, Hastur. Let's leave it at that. I choose not to advertise my mortal identity, even though most of my readers will already be aware of it. This blog will be a reflection of my life in Lost Carcosa, by the lake of Hali, where everything seems clearer through a kaleidoscope.
I will help all you paranoid and deluded souls out there. And give you the guidance that you need, the aid so much needed, but never offered by the mainstream health authorities:
Hark; I am the King in Yellow. Some dare speak my name. They call me Hastur, the shepherd. Some dare follow my teachings. They call me their mullah. Some dare follow no further. They are mad.
I can be found here. In Lost Carcosa, where I rule. By the lake of Hali, under the star of Aldebaran. And here, I wear no mask at all.
While we wait for the rebirth of European nobility and whatnot, we should stop, reflect and cheer for on this day, in 753 B.C., Rome was founded by Romulus and Remus. Great guys, great town - and even greater Empire.
