Puppy love?

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"

Have I offended anyone, yet?

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!

The death of the storyteller

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.

Next session, I promise.

I lost my heart...

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.

Who said I was a heartless fiend...?

I found myself in the Bible

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.

Who are you asking? Who am I in the Bible?

None other than King Herod, sweetie!



Now walk across my swimming pool

The arrival of a royal cleric

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:

In The Know: Is The Government Spying On Paranoid Schizophrenics Enough?

Prepare yourself. Your King is here.
My sign is yellow. And I wear no mask. Face me if you dear. Face the reflection.