Funny

So, who's killed more people, God or Satan? You might be suprised.

Having...Trouble...Breathing

I think you will agree that the above product, which can be purchased from CostCo of all places for a mere $18,500 is an object so cool, that it may well be worth selling off a kidney for. That's the only way I could afford such a mind-numbingly cool thing such as this.

I spoke with my wife about this but the conversation didn't go well.

"I need $20,000"

She closed her eyes slightly as if she had experienced a small brain aneurysm.

"I'll bite, what for?"

"A pirate ship."

"Didn't we agree that putting 'Pirate ships for sale' into google was a bad idea?"

"This is a Pirate ship...in a tree!! Can there be ANYTHING COOLER??? I ask you, can there??"

"We need to replace the fridge."

I was taken suddenly aback. "The fridge? What's wrong with the fridge?"

"The milk is now a solid block of ice and the ice cream is now a chunky soup."

"Can't we just put the ice cream in the fridge and the milk in the freezer?"

"The door doesn't close right anymore. It makes a horrible rattling noise, it may be possessed"

I eyed the icebox suspiciously.

"Where's our Bible?" I asked.

"We don't have one."

"I could have sworn the Mormons dropped one when they ran screaming from the house a few weeks back."

"That was the UPS man with a package"

"Whatever. This demonic Frigidaire has me concerned."

I went to the bookshelf. What did we have that might dispell evil? I pulled out a book and waved it in front of the fridge.

"What's that?"

"Al Frankens 'Lies and the lying Liars that tell them.' it's all I could find."

"What about those ancient tomes in your study?"

"Good heavens woman, I want to dispell an appliance gremlin, not open a portal to an alternate dimension of evil. " I waved the book a few more times and felt satisfied.

"What was I asking about again dear?" I asked.

"Something about taking me to a movie."

"Movie? Why, yes! Something with Pirates....that's the ticket."

War, but not the bad kind

I just got back from the Pennsic War. This is an annual trip I have made for the past 20 years or so. It's the largest SCA event in the world (at about 12,000 people) and you have to attend it to fully understand it.

This year we were blessed with great weather (a rarity) and a general lack of drama in our camp (a very good thing). The biggest event for me was the resurection of the Hell Party. We ran this party for 6 years before discontinuing it about 4 years ago. But last year's parties were so dismal, so completely devoid of energy or fun that with the help of my campmates we resurected the party with pretty good results.

The party has a slight historical petigree. It was roughly based on church or 'Mystery' plays in the middle ages where the institutions of the church were mocked with slapstick comedy and bawdy humor. Our party featured several carnival style games; Bobbing for Bourbon and the cock-ring toss. We also had a whip-chick area with a stocks and St. Andrews cross. We served great beer and a concoction called Swamp Gas (composed of Mountain Dew and Everclear). We also set up a stage and brought in entertainers.

The one day of bad weather was of course, the night of the party. The grey skies turned black and the rain came just after the first act on our stage. In the rain it was almost impossible to arrange my entrance with the stage manager. In the end I just game in hoping the crowd would notice a 6'2 guy painted red with horns and a pitchfork. They did. I ascended the stage and my makeup began to run into my eyes, blinding me. And then, the three propane torches giving light to the camp, blew out leaving everything in darkness.

This was one suck-ass opening.

I got off stage and did a quick intro by the fire, stumbled 'back stage' and got the worst of the makup out of my eyes. When the rain let up I used some scrap paper on the end of my pitchfork to re-light the torches. The party began to pick up steam. We brought out a fire eater. After that, it was time for our secret weapon. We snuck a generator into our camp (not permitted by campground rules) and used it to power a snow machine that blew fluffy soap-based flakes over the crowd. It was amazing and the crowd loved it. More people crowded in. We sold t-shirts, cigars and indulgences for donations to help defray the cost of the party. This was my biggest worry. Running an event of this size takes a lot of cash. My friend Ed personally fronted about $1200 bucks to make this happen. If the weather had been just a little bit worse, the party would have failed, and more importantly, we would have been left with huge expences. In the end, the donations covered the cost of the party and allowed us to make a donation to the Tuchux Breast-Cancer charity (The Tuchux are a loose affiliation of barbarian types who have gotten a bit of a bad rap over the years).

It was an enormous undertaking. And none of it could have happened without the hard work of everyone in my camp. From locating and picking up long-disused props to setting up the games, the stage and the whipping area to selling tshirts, setting up and running the bar.

I think we reclaimed the 'coolest party' award in the eyes of the attendees. As usuall, I ended up taking a shower at 4am to try and get the red paint off. And the next day my back informed me that lugging 150lb kegs can be hazardous to your health. I spent much of the next 2 days in a bit of a haze. Doing the party just burned up a massive amount of my personal energy reserves. It wasn't just the physical part of helping run the party, but all the stressing out I did in the days before it. Now that its over I am more relaxed. People are already asking me about "Next Years big party". Sorry, I am giving absolutely NO thought to this right now. The Michigan Ren Fair is open and the Ohio Ren starts soon. My garage and shop are disaster areas. It's back to work.

But it was one Hell of a party.

Beer

Beer
Originally uploaded by stevepack.

This is a small beer trailer we liberated for the upcoming 'Hell Nite' party. Our plan is to tow it around Pennsic while playing ice cream truck music at full volume.



This weekends sales have been slow. This bums me out. The weather has been great and a decent crowd today. Bah! Sacrifice more kittens!



I am eager to get back to Pennsic. Lots to see and do.

3.2 MILLION firecrackers

I am unworthy.....

A quick bit of fun

Go ahead, push the button.

The Impossibility of Unknowing

I did not write this, but I believe it states in the clearest way, my feelings about the times we live in. It comes via DailyKos.com:

Fallujah. Signing statements. Abu Ghraib.

Waterboarding. Stress positions. Free speech zones.

The theological and historical differences between Sunni and Shi'ite. How levees are constructed. Why levees fail.

These are things I knew nothing about until George W. Bush.

I've always considered gaining knowledge an indisputable good, but these pieces of the world I've come to know in the past six years have the feel of being forced into me under threat. They now carry with them a weight and a darkness.

The Ninth Ward. Haditha. Guantanamo Bay.

How much sweeter to have picked up these nuggets of geography and history as I always have, serendipitously led through a leisurely stepping stone process of one book or conversation suggesting another, and yet another, and now a couple of twists and turns ... you start out here, reading Faulkner and next you're drawn to learning about cotton production and before you know it, you're at civil rights.

Instead, in all cases above, I'd begun my acquaintance because of headlines and horrors and a screaming, driving voice in my head: There's something wrong! There's something very, very wrong! Learn about it! Fast!

The jumble of panicked facts I feel I've had to jam into my brain to qualify as a reasonably informed citizen makes my skull feel swollen, as though I've had to take a crash correspondence course - sometimes several at once - at the same time I'm in a sprint for my mental life.

There's a loss in that, a taint on the previously enjoyable process of innocent inquiry. I've found fascinating, for instance, the original historical split between the Sunni and Shi'ite sects of Islam. Yet if subjects are filed in the brain under a color-coded system, this tale is filed under black and blue (and red for blood). The accompanying score is Adagio for Strings.

The tone is completely different for, say, my recent thirst for jazz, which arose through my son's budding interest and the two of us watching Ken Burns' marvelous series over a course of several days, eating life-threatening amounts of junk food while sprawled on couches in the living room.

Some nights I go to sleep under this administration and wonder: What new horror am I going to have cram into my head tomorrow morning? What new form of torture? What unfamiliar town or province?

My brain's been hijacked and my eagerness to read news killed. I know too much now compared with how much I knew in the innocent 1990's. And there seems no way to un-know it or bleach it clean of the flavor of its original acquisition. (I still see the infamous picture of the hooded prisoner standing on the box, arms outspread at Abu Ghraib, on a background of baby blue because I first encountered the photo and the terse, stunned narrative of horror over at Billmon's Whiskey Bar.)

Certainly of all the atrocities and diminishments since Bush took office, having personal fact-flavor problems seems unworthy of even a footnote. Arguably, I should have removed my head from my sorry American provincial ass a long time ago to learn more about Islam or the precise wording of the Geneva Conventions. Still, the knowledge of foreign cities, dodges of the law, how Abramoff's money came to be laundered ... all of these facts feel IV'ed into me on a timetable set by an administration I despise. That seems a final, intrusive indignity, small as it is.

When I was 20, I was in a serious car accident. I fractured my back, collar bones, four ribs. I'd ruptured my kidney, I'd had a chunk of flesh the size of a Girl Scout cookie ripped out of my knee. I was hospitalized more than a month, and I'd been proud of being reasonably stoic and properly grateful to have survived.

The day I was released from the hospital, I went home and took a shower, the first in nearly six weeks. As I lathered up - a luxury I can still savor in memory after weeks and weeks of bed-bound sponge baths - my fingers found, underneath my arm and along my shoulder blade, embedded pieces of gravel and glass that had not been properly debrided. I realized they were going to be a part of me forever because my flesh had already healed over them. And finally, I lost it, completely. I stood in the shower and wept for twenty minutes; it was some sort of symbolic final straw for me, this discovery of physical objects in me from the accident, minor though they were in the overall injury scheme. I think what grieved me the most was that they were on the hidden underside, the most tender part of my underarm and back, and that although they were harmless, I'd spend a lifetime remembering, every time I bathed, the precise stretch of road they came from and how they got there.

I feel like George W. Bush and his policies are gravel and glass in my brain. Forever.

There's no debridement of the image of the little girl in a dress, crying in horror and crouching over a pool of her parents' blood after they were killed at a checkpoint. There's no erasure of Gonzales' calling the Geneva Conventions "quaint." There's no rewinding of the tape in my head that juxtaposes the president playing guitar at a birthday party while people floated face down in the streets of New Orleans.

I find myself longing for ignorance, and that's a weakness and betrayal of everything I'd believed until George W. Bush came onto the scene. Again, this is a minor personal complaint and I'm sure I'll recover, eventually. My real concern is that this is less than you can say with certainty about the effects of this administration on this country and the rest of the world.

Keeping ones head above water...

This weekend wasn't gangbusters so far as sales were concerned. Both shows were mercilessly hot. It rained during the week flooding parts of Northeastern Ohio. It rained during the show in Michigan.

These are the days that take everything out of you. You're trying to enjoy yourself. There are friends at the show, you get to talk and laugh. But the constant and oppressive heat grind away at your energy. You brain literally begins to cook. We ran through gallons of water, and remember, my sales people are wearing bloody corsets all day. The crowds are good, so why aren't we doing better sales? My sales minions are unhappy because they know we sell a great product. They "sell" this product with skill and zeal. They do a great job. But the final hurdle of price keeps getting in the way.

I start to blame myself. Stock levels are low. Lower that usual because we're running two shows at once. I had planned to steal some stock from Great Lakes and take it up to Silver Leaf in Michigan. But it can't be done. The stock just isn't there. I ordered a whacking amount of stock way back in May, but we had two big shows and several smaller shows before the official season opened. I should have reordered sooner. Now is the absolute worst time to ask for more corsets. Pennsic is coming up and Thomas needs stock too. But I need to replentish my stock or I'll loose sales because we're out of some sizes and styles.

These are the parts of my job that one can file under "Not Fun". Suffering through bad weather and supply chain issues. Once I'm in some air conditioning I can begin to think clearly again. I'm not sure how I'm going to solve my supply issues.

Super cool...

Anyone speak Russian? Here are some AWESOME pics from a former Soviet Sub base.

When I am God-Emperror of this miserable little mudball of a planet, I shall have a slew of such bases hidden across the globe. Just in case any of my subjects get uppity.

I know I feel safer...

I have a million things on my plate right now. 2 Ren Fairs in progress, 2 more coming up, Pennsic, book keeping, the Hell Nite party etc etc.

But I just had to stop for a second and read the following article that states that Air Marshals are basically under a quota system. This means that they HAVE to report at least one citizen a month as a person who performed a suspicious activity. Failure to find potential terrorists means no promotions, no raises, no career advancement.

So basically, completely innocent people are being reported to the TSA as having performed possible Terrorist surveillance. These names will likely end up in a database (the gubment loves their databases, they also like misplacing them). I wonder how long it will be before yours truly is simply refused entry on a plane?

Here's the Democratic slogan for all future elections;

"Had enough?"

Pictures!

At long last here are pictures from the Bag End Bash 2006. If you have picture or video, please burn them to CD and mail them to me (Or just email the best ones) As usual I was just too damn busy running around to take many pics. I want to thank Don Nottage for some amazing pics this year. Enjoy.

Just another Salem

I urge you to go and read this important (if lengthy) testamony of an athiest and his struggles against the 'decent' god-fearing folk of a small Oklahoma town. It literally makes me feel ill.

I remember working the Oklahoma Ren fair 2 years ago. To kill time during the weeks and to make some extra money I contacted sign shops to see if they had any work. I made signs for 5 years and I figured its like riding a bike. It comes back to you. When I showed up to the sign shop I noticed the large collection of religious tracts on the front counter. They weren't the worst I had seen, but there were a lot of them. And here I was, driving my wifes car with the pentagram in the front window and some pagan stickers on the back along with the Scottish flag.

The man was polite, but I could tell he wanted to do his 'duty' and start the Jesus speech. The great thing was that I didn't NEED this job. So I didn't need to keep my opinions to myself for the sake of the job. The boss could only hold out about 3 days. Then he asked about me and my beliefs. I was honest and said that I was at best, a Diest. He asked what that meant and I explained that like Thomas Jefferson and many of our founding fathers, I believed that the universe may have been created by some supernatural force, but that his position is more of the master clockmaker than some big white-guy daddy-substitute. I told him that diests believe that reason and logic are more important than revelation or dogma. And I told him that my wife was wiccan and what that meant.

I don't think he was quite prepared for what I was saying (I was my usual long-winded self but I didn't want there to be any room for misunderstanding or confusion on his part) When he was done he tried to get back on script. I told him that I had no problems with the ideas of peace and love in Jesus' teaching, it was all the threats, the killing and violence that I couldn't get behind. He was kind enough (or confused enough) to leave it at that. When I left the shop my final day he shook my hand and said "Remember, Jesus loves you" and I gave him a "Blessed Be".

LOL - Rennie Personal Ads

Rennies are their own unique sub-culture and as such, have their own unique sense of humor. This is for any of my "homies" of there doing the circuit and to those who work so hard to make peoples weekend visits a magical experience:


Circuit Rennie into tattoos, piercing and drumming seeks same. Wolf
breeds a bonus! Hygiene negotiable.
No Jousters.

Campground Rennie looking for laundry partner, vehicle required. Will
not share white load until
second or third trip. No, I am not happy to see you, I DO have a roll of
quarters in my pocket!

Road Rennie seeks local w/plumbing for friendship and much more! No
costumes outside of faire please.

Fortune teller seeking someone who will surprise me! Tell me something I
DON'T know! Tall, Dark and Strange a plus!
No jousters.

Weekend entertainer seeking forbidden campground love. I have plumbing,
you must leave before my mom gets up.

Rennie bum looking for hard working RenGirl. Must have
home/vehicle/beer. Enable me. You: cook/clean
Me: not a jouster!

Morris dancer seeks partners for heathen fertility rite. Bell lovers a
plus, BYOB.

Townie party girl seeks place to shack up, travels light (just costume!)
Will be 18 soon.
Jousters a plus!

Local boy seeks fantasy dream circuit job, only willing to manage. Must
provide benefits, lodging
etc.

Local boy looking to get on circuit, looking for work. I am willing to
help you take all of the
buildings apart when the show is done.

Veggie Justice boy seeks saucy wench for sticky times. I will love you
Picante style! Kiss the
tomato! We will make beautiful catsup together!

Ditzy chick looking for established father figure with trailer. "Almost
21!"
Musicians a plus.

Neo-pagan, new age, golden dawn, sub-genius, left handed black dye job
boy (8 piercings-connect the
dots!) seeks neo-cabalist Gemini with Virgo rising, Goth, ambidextrous,
anti-pokemon (except for
butterfree) red head Grrl for tantric research. Satanist, Black Hats
need not apply.

Jouster with Big Lance seeks Philly to favor. I have a metal codpiece!
Wanna ride my pony? Included: Beer
and trailer! Not Included: breakfast.

Bored, overworked RenGirl seeks Local entertainer to spice up life.
Alcoholic ok, local connections
required.

Worried Mom seeks kid stolen by circuit. Jesus can forgive you so I will
at least try. You can still be
dull!

RenBoy with hard house and power seeks female with electric blanket.
Send picture of blanket.
Weekenders welcome: blanket stays.


Rennie with bus seeks Rennie with gas money. Dogs, wolves, mastiffs,
cats, ferrets, tarantula, hedgehogs,
snakes, rabbits, cooties and rats ok. No jousters.


Bodacious thespian seeks fodder for Wenching. Tights a plus, dance belts
a minus! Kilts bump you to the
top of the list. Tortugas welcome.


Verily and well met, good gentles. A lord of the SCA be I, in sooth, and
a kin to Elves on thine mothers
side, anon. Hear ye, unto the Fare do I Goeth, seeking mine Lady Fair,
be she thee? Huzzah! Unto
the house of Denny's go we in all our Garb, to sup as Lady and Lord!!

Pirates Peanut! Pirates!

Went to POTC: Dead Mans Chest last night. I enjoyed it tremendously and if there is any joy in your soul, so should you. There were a few small pacing and dialogue issues, but nothing that was a deal killer. Davey Jones now surpasses Gollum as King Shit of the digital characters. I mean absolutely amazing.

The showing of this movie was marred only slightly by the close proximity of my minion Lindsey, who was literelly vibrating in anticipation of the film. And when I say vibrating I mean it in the most literal sense of the word. She was, in fact, a blur, barely perceivable in the visible spectrum. Her excitement caused my fillings to loosen.

She was outright dismissive of the trailers, and while they were not amazing there is one golden rule of movie watching, you can talk, giggle, kvetch whatever...until the trailers start. That's it. When trailers are go, pie hole remains in shut mode. I will forgive her this transgression. She is young and excitable, and it was a pretty freaking cool movie.

Pirate are in again for another year! Horay!

Suck with a side order of suck

I had arrived at the Silver Leaf Ren Fair thoroughly prepared. You dont do the circuit for 15 years without perfecting the art of prep and packing. I came to SELL. I brought my A game.

What I did not bring were the corner pieces for my sales tent. I realized this the second I finished the 3 and 1/2 hour drive from Ohio. I had stock, mannequins, racks,tables,camping gear,mirrors, stools, cooler and snacks. But I had no way to put up my tent.

Luckily this isn't the first time I've been smited by the gods. The back up plan swings into effect. Its off to WalMart where I bought the last $100 sunshade they had. Once it was up things went pretty smooth until I turned in for bed and realized I had forgotten a blanket.

The decent crowds made up for these small setbacks. Several friends came by and helped me out which put me in much better spirits all around. The show has potential and they have a very enthusiastic staff. If you live in Michigan or Ohio you might consider coming for a visit.