A game with only one rule...

No Murder.

This is no joke. The small town of Ashbourn in England plays a game called Shrovetide Football. It is not like any game you have ever seen before.

In the small English town of Ashbourne during 2 days a year the people divide to play a sport with the purpose of scoring the “toughest goal”. Sure kicking a ball into the net takes some skill, but even these people would say scoring in a sport such as rugby is only for the weak. Imagine thousands of people, divided by a river, with 2 days to get a ball across town with one simple rule: no murder. That is only the beginning in Royal Shrovetide Football.

Go and check out the details here. There are two videos but they don't seem to work on the site, but you can fine one here and a longer one here.

Yes!

I just found out that "The Fall" will be showing in Cleveland for about a week starting this Friday. I REALLY want to see this film. It not only looks stunning it seems genuinely original. The only place I can find playing it is the Cedar-Lee theater on the East side. Anyone up for it?

Death and Funk

The phone rang too early.

"Hello?" I asked blearily.

"You're working Maron this weekend, right? In Columbus?" a voice asked.

"Yeah."

"I thought you should know that your Guest of Honor, Robert Asprin just died."

"Swell."

It never bodes well when a conventions guest of honor passes away expectantly. I wasn't a rabid far but I did enjoy his written work and always planned on reading more some time. And now? Well, the show goes on...

Lindsey and I went to load the car and the moment we opened the door to the van I knew something was wrong. The van reeked of death.

Something much have carwled up into so inaccessable hole and died. Fabreeze did almost nothing. Death weas everywhere. Not a good sign.

There was no time to investigate, we loaded up and drove down to Columbus with the windows open.

Marcon is one of the VERY few shows that is run by pretty damn competent trained monkeys. This is in stark contrast to the majority of shows, conventions and even Ren Faires we do over the course of the year. They do not loose paperwork. They send you a map of where the loading dock is. They help you unload!!!! And when you're set up? They offer free soda and cookies. Really. For this I and the rest of my fellow godless capitallists are eternally grateful.

The crowd was looking a bit thin at the start of things. I mean almost scarce. There are always theories for this. The economy, gas prices, competing events. We merchants are great at determining reasons why the hall isn't packed like it used to be. But that didn't mattter. Once the doors opened we started moving corsets. And with the influx of people comes the usual cast of 'colorful' characters.

Charly is what many long time con-goers would call a 'creepy camera guy'. Short, heavy-set, thick glasses and thin mustach. He is constantly taking pictures, usually of women. I used to avoid him if at all possible. He didn't seem to hang with any of the social groups that I did. But Rossana is a kinder soul than I and a better judge of character. She talked with him and then I got to talking with him a few years back. Now he shows up with stacks of prints which he gives away for free to people he photographed the previous year. He's no Ansel Adams, but he's actually a pretty nice guy. Last year the day after the con he was nearly killed when a kid with no license and no insurance crashed into him while he was riding his bike (he doesn't have a car). I was taken alittle aback. Marcon without Charley wouldn't feel right.

Not long after another friend I haven't seen in quite a while stopped by. His story was even wierder. It seems that he, after studying for and obtaining his conceal carry gun permit, had purchased a handgun several onths back. He bought the gun at about 11am. What happened next is a little unclear. But he somehow managed to take the loaded weapon and for reasons known only to him, went to tuck it between his legs. In doing this he somehow cocked the gun, and then discharged it. He shot himself in the leg at about 4pm, five hours after getting the gun. Luckily he missed his ding-ding and the femoral artery. It was a clean through and through. He drove himself to the hospital. He's had some legal troubles as a result, which strangely enough would have been far worse if he hadn't gotten his conceal carry permit. This was why I hadn;t heard from him in a while.

By the end of the day I was feeling dizzy from the wierdness that pervaded the air. Rossana turned in but Lindsey and I were restless. We hit a room party on the fifth floor of the Hyatt Regency. This is the floor specifically set aside for parties. This is where many of the legendary U.B.S. Casual Star Trek themed parties took place. Parties that would generate so much body hear and funk that the fire alarms often went off. The party we attended was thrown by a fellow merchant and wasn't too big. I helped serve drinks a while before I had to get out. Hotel room air conditioners simply cannot handle 20 people in them at the same time. I needed air.

I took up position in the celebrity autograph area which was empty at that late hour. I used a crayon to make two signs "Free Advice" and "Free Insults". This kept us busy for a while and even earned me a $5 tip.

We wrapped things up Sunday and drove home bone tired, the van still smelling of death, but it didn't matter. We were alive, our friends were still alive. That was the important thing.

Pretty Pictures

Safely back in the states. But there's lots to do. We're off to Marcon this weekend but I wanted to throw up a few of the more artsy pictures I took in Germany. have a look-see.

Germany - Artsy Pics

Misnomer...

I am not sure why they call it the 'Romantic Road'. Oh sure, it's scenic as hell. Rolling Green hills passing through quaint medieval towns. But this involves driving. In Germany. It takes three years and about 3000 euros to get a drivers license here. They know what the hell they are doing on the road.

I, by comparison, do not.

Our first day with the car was not so much Romantic Road as 'Mad Max'. With yelling. It is better today. We are in Dinklesbüle south of Rothenburg. Great little town. Winding streets with surprises around every corner. We may be trapped here a while. The town appeared abandoned most of the day. It was eerie. Like a zombie movie. The cause was a championship soccer match with the Beyer team won. TV's are showing the city of Munich in a state of ecstatic celebration. Wait till the beer kicks in and the rioting begins. We haven't reserved a room there yet, not sure if we can. Then there's the problem of not wanting to leave. We love this place. Really. I could learn to live in a medieval city, to recycle, to drink beer and have streets clean enough to eat off of. I could get used to trains that run on time, politeness and more kinds of sausage than you can shake a stick at.

And then there's the German addiction to Ice Cream and Baked goods. Don't get me started.

Gotta go now, the bells of the church are chiming the hour. Cake time.

I am a bad person...

I must be. When we rolled into the medieval walled city of Rothenberg we were just blown away. Sparred from bombing in WWII is is so well preserved. But the tour only allowed 2 hours or so to see it all. We might wave grudgingly accepted this fate except that THAT very day a medieval pageant was going on commemorating the town being saved from an invading Swiss army. Apparently the Swiss general bet the mayor that he couldn't drink 6 liters of his towns best wine. The Mayor stepped up and delivered. And now the streets were filled with musketeers, artists, pikemen, musicians, a period market.

This was torture.

And what were we supposed to see after a mere two hours in this paradise?

Dachau concentration camp.

And so, we quickly found a local tourism office, tracked town a schedule for the trains, found the tour director and told him outright that we were staying and that we would make our way to Munich on our own. He let us go and we spent the day in the town. Amazing.

Does this make me a bad person? I don't know. At the end of the day as we saw next to a drunken squad of German soldiers I had to admit that my soda tasted no less delicious.

And if I wanted to be technical, we did visit Dachau. Our train passed through the station on our way to the city. So..... Yeah.

Now we're in the Black Forrest region, eating torte and drinking schnapps. Tomorrow he head to Heidelberg and then back to Frankfurt.

Sausages!

Nuremberg

Yesterday we abandoned the tour group and made our way to Leipzig for the Wave Gothic Treffin event. Think Pennsic for goths. What an event. What a day. I will have to wait until I get home to tell the tales of that day. I think it unwise to discuss details while I am still in the country and could face prosecution. Needless to say we made it back to Dresden just in time to head out to the lovely city of Nuremberg.

I am enjoying the tour more and more. Yes, it has drawbacks but we are covering a lot of ground. The one dark cloud so far is and whacking big pain in the ass...Rita.

Rossana pegged her as trouble the moment she opened her mouth. Loud, constantly interrupting, butting into conversations. She rambles endlessly. And it's not just us, she annoys everyone in the group. After a few days of observation we pegged her as suffering some form of metal illness. This doesn't make her any less annoying. People are actively trying to avoid her, but that's not easy.

I have come to really appreciate Germany. It is clean in every sense and they are really going green. There are wind turbines everywhere. Urinals that don't use water. Recycling. The air, the sky, they are somehow brighter.

Today our guide talked about the process of reunification or what happened after the wall came down. It was quite a struggle. West Germany basically inherited an entire country that was broken and broken badly. It took years and Billions of Euros on top of the already high taxes Germans pay. But they did it. So why can't the US rebuild the Gulf Coast?

There is more, much more. I've taken lots of pics, some of which I really hope come out like the armory in the Zwinger Palace or the Altes Museum in Berlin.

Tomorrow we visit Dachau. I would prefer to skip it. My interest in Germany is based in its more distant past. We've already seen several examples of the brutality and waste that was communism in the DDR. This morning we visited a tiny town of only 60 people that was cut in half by the East/West border. For forty years the townspeople couldn't talk or see each other, separated by barbed wire and guard towers. Insanity. Dachau will be far worse.

After that its on to Munich for two days. And after that, we are on our own. So far nothing at home seems to have broken down or caught fire. (knock on wood).

No time! Must keep moving!

We are in lovely Hamburg. This is one clean country. Efficient and well maintained. Took a short Rhein cruise which convinced me that should we ever return we will take a longer one. Because we have a lot of ground to cover we cannot visit some small towns. Todaz, Berlin and some of their wonderful museums.

The group is mixed, I am, alas the youngest person on it. We have stayed at only modern hotels so far, a concession to American demands no doubt. Too bad, I would have like to try some grottty little local Gasthaus.

Limited web access. Most hotels try to rape you for it. Everything is pretty damn expensive. A coke, is 4 to 5 bucks. I need to get back to Turkey where the dollar has some punch. Gotta go, the bus is loading. The weather here is great. Spring is in full bloom and the rolling countyside is great.

More when I get a free moment. Onward, ever onward...

Customer Service = Boot to the goin...

Whenever we leave for a trip abroad my wife dutifully calls her credit card companies to to let them know where we're going to avoid the cards being flagged for foreign purchases.

I usually think about doing this and then just go on the trip without any incident.

But this time I actually wrote a note and called Capital One. After identifying myself I told the nice lady that I was heading off on a German adventure. She made a note and then for some reason transferred me to another department. This lady told me that the card 'needed to be re-activated' and that I had to answer several questions.

???

Re-activated? I checked the expiration date. No that's fine. And I used the card last week for a business purchase. Ooooooookaaaaay. I'll go along because I'm a sheep.

'First question: How much is the amount of your mortgage payment each month?'
I am given 4 possible answers.

Me: "Um, I'm not sure I can answer the question"

That was obviously the wrong thing to say.

"These questions are generated by the credit agencies. To verify who you are we need you to correctly answer these questions"

Me:"Well, there are two issues here. First, my mortgage is paid automatically each month by my bank. Second, it recently changed slightly and the amount might be answer B or C. I don't know. We set it up this way so that we wouldn't have to worry about writing checks every month. You know, to lover our stress level." I give a chuckle, there is no reciprocating chuckle.

Second question:"Your mortgage is held by which company?" Several choices are offered.

At this point it feels like this is some kind of fishing expedition. Why the hell do you need this information? I ask why I am being grilled about my Mortgage and she say only that I have to answer these questions. I ask for a supervisor.

10 minutes later I get an American voice. She starts explaining that the questions are needed to verify I am who I say I am because only I would know the answers to these questions.

I inform the woman that I was told I had to 're-authorize' my already active card and that I didn't think that my mortgage was any of their damn business thank you very much. She explains that the questions are random and might be as simple as "what color is your car?". Why the hell would my credit card company know what color car I drive???? By this time I am wrapping my head in an intricate tin foil hat/brainwave shield.

She tries to explain that they are simply trying to prevent fraud. That calling the credit card company and letting them know you are heading abroad is JUST the kind of thing that filthy criminals would do. Great. If I simply take off on a trip and buy a sausage alarm bells go off at Capital One, if I TELL them I am going to Germany as a courtesy I am obviously a criminal looking to game the system.

She then goes on to tell me that I am obviously not paying close enough attention to my credit cards and that my wife could go off and open an account and leave me with massive debt.

I am not kidding.

I put a halt to the conversation. "Ask me your questions. If possible I'd rather they don't involve inquiries about my mortgage."

"Why not?"

"Because there are three institutions people don't trust any more. The Government, the banks and the credit card companies. The order these institutions are mistrusted by me is quickly being rewritten based on this call".

"How do you pay the balance on this card?"

Wow. How do I explain the convoluted process by which we pay for stock? I try to explain that charge the card but then pay off the balance every month with a home equity line of credit that doesn't (as I delicately put it) 'Rape us so badly'. That payment is made, I think, by check.

"I need specifics sir. Who's name is on the checks?"

"Jesu Christu I just don't know, my WIFE writes them. I suspect both our names are on the checks."

"And what bank is this through?"

At this point I honestly don't know. My blood pressure is dangerously high and I am under my desk with the lights off because I think someone is outside my window peaking in. Is it the mortgage company? The bank? If I get this wrong will they nuke my account? Will the credit card company call homeland security to warn them that Al Qaida is attempting to import weaponized chocolate? I take a wild guess which must have been right. She gives me a number to call if I loose my card and thanks me for choosing Capital One. I hang up the phone and then beat it against my desk several times for good measure.

Customer service.

Wow.

In the workshop...

I bought a cheapo video camera for the Germany trip. I am not very impressed with it other than its size. But while I am testing it I thought I would record a brief update on a few projects I am working on in the shop. Enjoy!

The letter...

Three days ago I printed off a nine page letter and mailed it to an Army APO address. It was addressed to the son of a good friend. He is currently in Kuwait I believe, his final destination may be Iraq or Afghanistan.

It took me three months to write it, and despite endless revisions and re-writes it still didn't come out very well. Why did I write it? There are several reasons. I know that soldiers don't ever get enough mail. I know that email is available, but emails are rarely written with the same care of real letters and they have none of the permanency. A real letter means you took a little more time and effort to put down your thoughts.

Where many have no doubt sent him well-wishes and hope for a safe deployment I took a more practical approach. I outlined to him exactly why I felt we were in a wrongful conflict, why our presence in Iraq is not helping the cause of peace and what might happen when we remove ourselves from that area. It is, aside from a few bits of practical advice, a lengthy screed on why I feel his is in for a rough time and why he should not be there at all.

I am sure his parents spoke with him about this. I am sure they pointed out the risks and dangers of entering the service at this time. They are no Bush lovers. And yet he joined anyway. I truly wish I had been given the opportunity to speak with him while he was deciding whether to join or not. I don;t know if I could have changed his mind. I don't know his motivations. All I know if that this is a kid I used to see running around camp at Pennsic. We'd send him off on ice runs. He has always been, in my mind, a kid. And now he is an adult. He is in the Army, and he is now a small cog in the machine of war. The reality of that struck me so hard that I tried to blurt out all the things that I would have if I had been given the chance, even though its too late now.

While I respect the profession of citizen-soldier and know that it is a necessity, I can't just shut up and throw a yellow ribbon magnet on the back of my car. While the security of this country often depends on young Americans answering the call to arms THIS call was a wrong fucking number.

Why did I write this letter? Even after agonizing over it and finally sending it, I still cannot say. What am I hoping he will do with the ideas, opinions and flat out rants contained within its pages? I don't know. Part of me hopes that he will undergo some kind of epiphany, that he will find some way to get out without dishonor.

Why did I write this letter? I guess it was for the most selfish of reasons. Because I just do not know what I would do if I had to go to a funeral and see him in a casket. How could I possibly handle seeing his parents weaping over his grave? The simple answer is that I couldn't. When the concept rears it ugly head rational thought seems to evaporate. There is an anger, a rage. Who is to blame? Who is responsible? Why did this kid die when those who never served, and who's kids will never serve get to live out their comfy lives? I find myself with a headache, clenching my jaw. I have to take deep breath and go for a short walk to put such thought out of my mind.

I don't know how he'll take this letter. It might annoy or piss him off. It wasn't my intent to offend or insult him, only to make him think. Benjamin Frankin said that "Thinking is one of the most difficult things a man can do, which is why so few engage in it". Will I get a reply? I doubt it. He is from an age of emails, instant and text messages. But one can hope.

I told you...we're an anarcho-syndicalist commune...

In case you missed it, the Island of Sark has just joined the 17th century and given up feudalism.

Horaaaay! Welcome to to...wait, what?

According to the Times UK the small island, which was settled in order to keep it free of Pirates in the 16th century never quite got rid of the landowners-get-a-say-and-you-piddly-lot-don't phase. But fear not. Universal suffrage has been agreed upon at last. Europe's last fiefdom is no more.

These guys had a real freakin' Seneschal for god's sake.

Hack wheeeze cough

Back from Biloxi but sick as a dog. CoastCon was a bit of a letdown. The convention center isn't done with renovations, attendance was a bit light and no one had any damn money.

But I'm still glad I went.

I wanted to see Biloxi again. See how it was faring. I got a chance to drive around a bit and I must say that things are looking pretty good on the surface. The mountains of debris are gone. The uprooted trees, boats and smashed houses. There are empty concrete slabs along the coast, but there is also a flurry of building. Oddly, the coast looks better without the squat barge/casinos.

I drove by the stadium where I worked witht he Salvation Army. They are still there. Dedicated folks those guys. When I went by the church where we had stayed with Hands On USA there was no sign of them. Packed up and helping out elsewhere I guess.

There was no time to get to New Orleans. And If there had been I might have been depressed by the lack of progress.

While in Biloxi I stayed with Vlad and his lovely wife, which is always a hoot. We ate well and told stories of Pennsics past. I would like to have stayed another day down there but Lindsey had school projects and I had to start work on the new booth at the Great Lakes Faire. Rossana and I made a good start. Raking up and clearing out the last remnants of the old RenBoots stuff. Technically this booth has the largest sales area of all out shops! There is painting and carpentry and decorating to do but we have time for that. I can't tell you how nice it is not to have to tent a show. It's a pant to set up, keep dry, take down and store a tent.

With the better weather the house can be tended to. Rossana had trimmed back the grape vines and I have started to gather up lawn debris. Lots of house projects to do. And never enough time.

Vlad land

Vlad land
Originally uploaded by stevepack

Lindsey and I are in Biloxi for Coastcon and are staying with our
friend Vlad who sells WWII collectables and happens to have a great
and twisted sense of humor. This was what greeted us when we brought
our bags in.

I'm hoping to get the chance to take a look around the city to see how
things are developing. Rossana is in NC to finish the last weekend of
the fair. Maybe she'll get lucky and get at least one sunny day.

Dangerocity + Tools

I think that it is necessary to come up with a new scale for measuring projects. I humbly suggest this new scale be called something like "TheTool/Dangerocity Scale" or simply the TDS

You see, it doesn't matter how complex a project is. It's how many tools you use to complete it, how much danger was involved and how badly you hurt yourself doing it. Changing your oil is fairly simple. You only need a new tools and the risks aren't that high. And yet many people still manage to injure themselves or break parts of the car. But you still did it yourself and you deserve credit for it. It was far harder and more dangerous than you had guessed and there should be some way to quantify that.

Yesterdays project seemed simple. In preparation for Spring I wanted to sharpen the blades on my lawn mover. Of course I called up Grimm, because he's done this before.

Or not.

After staring at the mower for a bit and poking it with a stick we decided to jack up the front end rather than figure out how to disconnect the deck.

Tools used: Jack, board, bricks

Once the front of the mower was precariously balanced atop some bricks we crawled under the deck with a grinder to get at the blades.

Tools used: Body grinder, carpet, scraper, extension cord, safety glasses.

We set to work but after the first blade we could see that one of the blades was pretty chewed up from being used as an impromptu mulcher during regular mowing operations. After some more grunting we thought we'd try to take the blades off the deck so we could work on them without constantly being remonded that we were old and fat.

Tools used: Compressor, air wrench, socket.

Indeed one of the blades was gouged pretty bad. One might consider simply getting a new blade but Grimm is well known for his 'frugalocity'.

"Why drive into town and spend money. You've got a welder! Weld a new bead along the edge and then grind it down." This seemed like an almost sane idea at first. We pulled off the blades and set up the welding rig.

Tools used: Stick welder (gloves, mask, hammer, rods), 2 saw horses, slab of marble to weld on

With new material added to the edge of the blade we then ground it to shape and generally cleaned up our previous work. We reinstalled the blades and I decided to grease the fittings.

Tools used: Grease gun, needle nosed pliers to remove old grease tube, paper towels and gunk remover to clean up the grease which went everywhere.

In the end I used a crapload of tools to achieve a pretty simple task. I would give this job a 7 out of 10. It would have been a 8 but neither of us injured ourselves during the proceedings.

Next week I may dig a hole. It will take some work but I'm sure I can jack that TDS up to 9 somehow.